My new secret shame is Glee, a TV show about a high school show choir and their journey from nothing to something. Most of the show feels like it is pulled straight out of a Sunday afternoon special, but the brilliant music and dance numbers more than make up for the cheesy dialogue.
Verdict? Skip the drama. Get to the music. That’s where the heart is.
Last week, I noticed that Leslie was breathing heavily, which was never a good sign for a small rodent. I quickly took her to see a doctor at Cambridge Veterinary Care, but he couldn’t confidently diagnose the problem. Leslie was already very upset by the car ride, and the strange new clinic had put her more on edge. Her heart rate was too high to count, and she was breathing too hard to hear anything in her lungs.
But the doctor suggested that Leslie may just have a common respiratory infection. So for the past week, Byrnes and I have been giving antibiotics to the sick rattie. She has not taken to them kindly, but she won’t have to suffer that much longer. Only two more weeks until she is back to the more tasty fruits and vegetables.
Byrnes and I were at The Pour House last Friday. I ordered The Rejuvenator—a mix of vodka, Gatorade, juice, and a flashing ice cube.
Young man asks attractive young woman about her ethnic makeup and gets schooled in race and gender. Learn more about the film at the Media That Matters Film Festival.
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