That’s Frank. He was supposed to be sitting and posing, but instead he backed his butt up against his owner and curled up on the floor for a belly rub.

Frank’s awesome.

He belongs to one of the clients of my food delivery job. And every time I climb her steps, I think “OMG-IGETTOSEEFRANK” and find his little black and white potato body waiting inside the glass of the front door.

He reminds me of Poquito – the Frenchie I used to own. And he eclipses some of the hum-drum-i-ness of the driving job, when I deliver to his house.

It’s easy to slip into a weird headspace when I’m driving in LA. Before I even realize it, I’m crying about not acting as much as I used to. Or I’m loudly “describing other drivers’ driving technique” (and trying to honk politely… I haven’t developed full-fledged LA Road Rage). Or I feel my ribs closing in when I imagine working “shitty jobs” for the rest of my life. Which feels like eternity until I think about how short life is. And how fast the days, weeks and years go by. How I should be appreciating it. OMG, I’m not appreciating it enough. My life is flashing before my eyes and I’m supposed to be enjoying the “ride” — which is this shitty driving around Los Angeles, at this moment, and I hate it!

GAH!

Then I see Frank. And he hi-fives my shins with his paws, and he licks my tights and I think “Hahahaha… aw, that guy.” And things feel better. Even though they’re the same.

But today, I’m on a shoot in San Diego! The second part of a Kroger commercial that will air on the east coast! (YAY! Family, if I can’t be there for Easter in person, I will be there on the television.) I’ll be posting about this, because for the first time in my life, I’m a HAND MODEL. A modern miracle. For those of you who are unfamiliar with my hands, please imagine this scene:

Oh and what, you thought I was only self conscious about my moles? HA. Los Angeles, thank you for encouraging me to face every last insecurity. On camera. (Wink!)

XX,

L