Bent Gazebos, Bleeding Dingos and Napping Vaders
One week ends, another begins and time keeps on slipping into the future... There's a song in there somewhere.
Saturday was a memorable day, friends.
A member of our troupe was involved in a head-on collision Saturday morning. Luckily, he walked away with just a few scrapes.
You see, the dingo and the boxer were in the backyard playing some kind of doggy freeze-tag and the dingo zigged while the boxer zagged, and... well...
The boxer let out a loud "Yipe!" and the Wife was certain he broke something. Visions of an early morning emergency visit to the Lakeland Vet Hospital danced in her head. What a great way to start the weekend! However, after recovering from the initial shock of ruining my damn gazebo, the boxer appeared pretty much none the worse for wear.
Unfortunately, I can't say the same for the gazebo. It's finished. Ready for the scrap heap. Now we don't have anywhere to escape the mosquitos this summer. Back to the drawing board, I guess.
That seemed to be enough excitement for a Saturday morning. But soon after the boxer's mishap, we decided the dingo's nails needed to be cut. Ever hear the expression "cut to the quick"? Well, I did and the dingo bled like the Black Night in Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
I truly felt awful. Rest assured, she was fine and it was much worse than it looked, but next time I will let a professional take care of it.
Enough was enough. Or was it?
Still later in the day, I had to go into the Boy's bedroom to get something, but what I saw there gave me such a jolt that I forgot what I was looking for. Someone was laying in his bed. It appeared to be a small child...
The Boy decided that his friend from the Dark Side needed a nap. And yes, it scared the shit out of me got my attention. (The toy is about 2 1/2 feet tall. Totally uncool).
After a day like that, you might have guessed that Saturday night was spent with my good friends, John Jameson and Son. They always have a way of making me feel, shall we say, better.
Sunday was spent not hitting gazebos and not putting Lord Vader down for a nap and not making the dingo bleed. Actually, I spent much of the weekend a slave to the television. I am a football junkie. It is something the Wife accepts and I am grateful for her understanding.... not that she really has any choice in the matter.
But not to worry. It won't be long now and football will be gone from our lives for six months. During that time I hope to become a productive member of society, a caring husband and an active father in my children's lives, because once preseason starts in August -- I must follow the light. The light which flickers from the television.
And that is all. At least for now.
Saturday was a memorable day, friends.
A member of our troupe was involved in a head-on collision Saturday morning. Luckily, he walked away with just a few scrapes.
You see, the dingo and the boxer were in the backyard playing some kind of doggy freeze-tag and the dingo zigged while the boxer zagged, and... well...
 |
| This is what happens when a 70 pound boxer hits a metal gazebo frame while running full sprint. The gazebo lost. |
The boxer let out a loud "Yipe!" and the Wife was certain he broke something. Visions of an early morning emergency visit to the Lakeland Vet Hospital danced in her head. What a great way to start the weekend! However, after recovering from the initial shock of ruining my damn gazebo, the boxer appeared pretty much none the worse for wear.
Unfortunately, I can't say the same for the gazebo. It's finished. Ready for the scrap heap. Now we don't have anywhere to escape the mosquitos this summer. Back to the drawing board, I guess.
 |
| The dingo celebrated her victory by eating a baby. You can actually see her grinning in this shot. She's evil. |
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| Meanwhile, the boxer is still pouting after getting reprimanded for ruining the gazebo. He still won't look at us. Either that, or he's got his eye on my Jameson. That won't go over well either. |
That seemed to be enough excitement for a Saturday morning. But soon after the boxer's mishap, we decided the dingo's nails needed to be cut. Ever hear the expression "cut to the quick"? Well, I did and the dingo bled like the Black Night in Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
I truly felt awful. Rest assured, she was fine and it was much worse than it looked, but next time I will let a professional take care of it.
| "'Tis but a scratch..." |
Enough was enough. Or was it?
Still later in the day, I had to go into the Boy's bedroom to get something, but what I saw there gave me such a jolt that I forgot what I was looking for. Someone was laying in his bed. It appeared to be a small child...
 |
| Even Darth Vader has nap time. |
After a day like that, you might have guessed that Saturday night was spent with my good friends, John Jameson and Son. They always have a way of making me feel, shall we say, better.
Sunday was spent not hitting gazebos and not putting Lord Vader down for a nap and not making the dingo bleed. Actually, I spent much of the weekend a slave to the television. I am a football junkie. It is something the Wife accepts and I am grateful for her understanding.... not that she really has any choice in the matter.
But not to worry. It won't be long now and football will be gone from our lives for six months. During that time I hope to become a productive member of society, a caring husband and an active father in my children's lives, because once preseason starts in August -- I must follow the light. The light which flickers from the television.
And that is all. At least for now.
