The weekend draws to a close at the Last House and I couldn't rest easy tonight without saying something here. Do I have a syndrome? Probably. Am I making it worse by indulging a little hit of blogging? Probably, but there you have it.
Our friend Annmarie,an architectural historian from Quebec, came by with her daughter who is a little younger than the Understudy,and their new "Puggle", "Snoopy." Snoopy may be the cutest creature since the Pygmy Jerboa ( q.v.).
We had lunch outside. The girls choreographed a dance to a Jonas Brothers song and and danced it for us all. Annmarie and I sat outside on the breezeway drinking Diet Dr. Peppers and complaining about not having enough money while Whusband led the kids and two dogs to the river at the back of our property. As I write, Whusband is trying to watch Madama Butterfly on PBS and getting irritated at us all for making up our own arias and singing along, e.g., "Now my life is going badlyyyyyy". And, "O why is my son is a plaaaastic puuuuuppettt!" (Which is true in this production). The kids asked why Madama's child is a plastic puppet and I said it was because his father was plastic.
Whusband did not approve of the Jonas Bros. as the soundtrack for the lives of our children.
All in all, a fine sort of Sunday.
Puggle puppies are difficult to photograph, as evidenced by the little photo essay above.
Woolfoot Recommends....
David Sedaris hardly needs any publicity from the likes of me, but
On Friday evening I rode home listening to him read essays from his collection "Dress Your Family in Corduroy Denim." I laughed so hard at the first essay that I almost wet myself (sorry, but true). I checked the New Yorker website and that essay is available only in abstract unless you subscribe, but here's another Sedaris gem for your reading pleasure. I hope it may finish your weekend the way it started mine (the laughing, that is, not the near-peeing).
