Our red carpet is green

Ahhhhh, summer. Around here, it means staying up late, sleeping in late, visits to the Sno Shack (nothing but the best in parking lot cuisine for us) and gracing the park with our acute sniffing abilities. Oh, did I mention that we take the dog?

We have a GREAT park closeby. For Boozer, it's pretty much Nirvana. I'm thinking it's what he's dreaming about when he lies in the middle of our floor, snoozing, and his legs start running without him. (Not as good as the YouTube dog, but still entertaining.)

Partly because Boozer enjoys the park so much, we, his humans, think it's pretty great too. So here's a pictorial representation of a classic outing to the park:

We take turns walking the beast...


He does a little exploration...

And a little more...


And rinse and repeat until you're at the end of your rope...

Then there's this...


Oh, and A LOT of this...


We are basically a walking freak show, and it takes us FOREVER to get around the park, due to human curiosity. Every ten feet we're stopped by someone, and we take turns fielding the questions. I sound like I'm complaining (because, let's face it, that's pretty much my job), but we really enjoy it. And Boozer? He thinks he's Mick Jagger. He loves every second of the petting, the cooing, the 'can my child sit on his back?' (Well, not that so much, but he'll usually put up with it once or twice.)

And least you think it's all about the canine at the park, here's a great shot of one of our humans:

Yes, we love the park, and we're just egotistical enough to think that the park loves us. After all, would it shine like this for just anyone? I think not!

Time Warp

Ya know how time flies when you’re having fun? Let’s be honest, time just plain flies. You don’t have to be having fun, although that’s a more…well..fun…option. We have lived here in this house for twelve years. My brain knows that that is a long time. My brain tells me that that’s longer than I’ve ever lived anywhere. My brain likes to point out that two of our four children have never lived anywhere else; and they’re not little kids anymore. HOWEVah, some other vital organ—probably my heart—will say that our house is fairly new, that we had all the kids when we moved here, that we look FORWARD to living here a long time.

THEN I COME ACROSS A PHOTO LIKE THIS:



and all of my innards are forced to comply with reality. Because here’s the exact same shot now:


I can't even get all of that tree in the picture now! And getting those two to hug was a little more difficult this time. I'm sure there was some pinching going on somewhere in there. But they're still cute, aren't they?

Why texting is for youngsters

Several months ago, poor Shnookie4 went through a horrible week of consistent, severe headaches. Then they just disappeared. Until now. He's been in frequent pain for a couple of weeks now. On Sunday, I told him that if he wasn't better the next day, I'd call and make a doctor's appointment for him. I was at the fabric store the next day when I got a text from him saying he still felt rotten. I told him to tell Hubby and ask him to set an appointment.

I got home from the store, which is when Hubby told me about the appointment and all. Then he said, "Just so you know when you get there, I told them he needs his heart checked." Puzzled, I said, "Why in the world would you tell them that?" Well...evidently, Shnookie texted him the following message: "Dad, please call the doctor. I need him to look at my head." Hubby--not a huge texter and without glasses on--saw 'head' as 'heart.' And there you are. (However, when they asked what Shnookie's symptoms are, Hubby told them his head was really killing him.)

DUH-BULL-YOU DUH-BULL-YOU DUH-BULL-YOU

Today I am angry with the world wide web. You may notice the irony in me using the world wide web as a vehicle to vent about the world wide web, but here’s where I’ll get to go “HA!” followed by a long explanation concluding with “I rest my case.”

After a long convoluted thought process the other night (yup—lost the remote again), I realized that I have lost a precious and significant portion of my life to the dummies who decided to call it the world wide web.

Think about it. Sure, it’s only 3 little syllables to utter aloud. World Wide Web. HOWEVER, who ever calls it by its whole name? We are, afterall a shortcut society who will use an acronym even when it takes longer than just saying the actual phrase. THUS, we end up using the longest letter in the alphabet--DUH-BULL-YOU—not once, but 3 times, over and over everyday all over the world.

Based on the statistic that 82% of statistics are made up on the spot, I feel confident saying that this waste of breath has robbed the average person of .75% of his or her life. That may only equal a month (or not…I can’t be bothered with math), but that’s a whole month one could spend playing Farkle.

Let’s face it…there are so many other names these buffoons could have given the web, even if they wanted to stick with the catchy alliteration. Global Guidance Generator…Cosmic Connection Circulator… Intercontinental Information Infuser. And that’s just off the top of my thesaurus.

In conclusion, I rest my case.

Be sure and tune into my next rant at ggg.ablognamedBETTY. com.