Luminescing

spar-kle [spahr-kuhl]

–verb (used without object) to be brilliant, lively, or vivacious.
–noun (used without capitalization) my match.com screen moniker


I chose "sparkle" because "Bubbly" sounded like Barbie's sister, "Chipper" harkened to a inspired modus operandi for body disposal (a la "Fargo"), and the little munchkins in funny hats on my breakfast cereal snagged "Snap, Crackle and Pop" . Of course, I gave up the match account after meeting Saint Rob.

Saint Rob earned canonization this week with the acquisition of Tara. One of the reasons that Saint Rob responded to my match.com cyber-wink was his interpretation of my profile statement - "my dogs are allowed on the furniture". He took this to be a reflection of my laid-back personality. Remember when we met, Saint Rob wasn't fluent in whippet. He couldn't be expected to recognize the Nike Manifesto.

Nike supervised the navigationally-challenged trek around Little Mountain that highlighted our first date. Later, Saint Rob willingly sacrificed sole possession of his recliner to the Nike. They now fall asleep together in front of "Meerkat Manor" or "House", depending on who's controlling the remote. Saint Rob even forgave the unpardonable - a little "accident" involving the Saint's soccer bag. And now tonight, a "Fowl Foul". In Saint Rob's mind, the plate of seasoned chicken was destined for the BBQ. Nike thinks we over-rate cooking our food. Chicken breast tastes perfectly good "tartar". The Saint's only comment to the dog - "you didn't even share it with your sister, did you"? His only comment to me - "that's not going to make him sick, is it"? Pretty good for a guy whose dinner just became Alpo.

By any reckoning Tara is a sweetheart of a puppy, but she's still a baby whippet. In "The World According to Jennifer" any prospective dog owner should be required to spend a week with one of these six-month old tornadoes before being permitted to acquire a canine companion. So far Saint Rob hasn't batted his halo at any puppy pranks. The ragged new finish on the bill of his favorite ball cap didn't raise an eyebrow. The tornado touching down on, er, sensitive body parts while he's trying to sleep produced a lot of groaning, but the alpha dog remains gracious with the rest of the pack.

We're almost a year from that first date now. In a week or so, on the actual one-year anniversary, I'll be effervescing in Connecticut for a week on a work project. Saint Rob will be home watching Nike and Tara relax on his furniture.

The champagne will have to wait, but I am truly blessed.