Well, obviously I lived through the state park experience. You know why? BECAUSE WE NEVER FOUND THE STATE PARK. I do not know whether to blame Marvin's navigational skills or MapQuest.
We took our good pal Tallulah Blueberry Gardens along, and I was annoyed enough that she had to lean on the arm rest from the back seat. What's wrong with just BEING in the back seat? You're eight millimeters from us.
And yet, it didn't take long for her to worm her way onto my lap, where, unless you want to shift, be not hot, or be not covered in dog fur, is just fine. Do you enjoy my artful aerial shot?
Since we drove all over yonder, as they say here, we decided we could at least stop at a yard sale, where I bought a china shepherdess for a dollar, only because Laura Ingalls Wilder's mother had a china shepherdess. Which she similarly got at a yard sale for a dollar. They just parked the wagon and browsed.
Who loves himself long time for posing just like the shepherdess? Actually, why do I think she's a shepherdess? She looks kind of like a Southern belle, doesn't she? Do you see one of those hooky sheep-gathering things? I totally duped myself, didn't I?
Someone pulled the wool over my eyes. BAH!
We also too stopped to look at puppies!
PUPPIES! PUPPY SNICKERDOODLES! Hello, good puppies. Who loves you? Does June love you? Who will take you right home? Is it your Aunt June?
Who made me get in the car and leave because he has ice in his veins?
Finally, old arctic arteries stopped at some tiny place that at least had water, but it was NOT A STATE PARK.
Tallulah did not enjoy walking on a floaty dock. She got this low crab walk going, and she was looking sophisticated, is what she was looking.
After yesterday's nonevent, I had to get back in the car today. One of my oldest friends is moving to North Carolina and I did one of those things where like a year ago I said, "Well, when you're moving here, if you need any help, just let me know."
Don't you hate it when people take you seriously when you say stuff like that? Like, once my friend Renee was having a party, and I similarly gave the phony "If you need any help let me know" speech, and girl, I was hauling furniture and ice bags and schlepping to the flower mart and the grocery store. I mean, by "let me know if you need help" I mean, "I'm trying to sound like I'm a good person." I don't actually MEAN it.
Really, though, I jest. I got in the car with my Sirius radio and headed off to the country where my friend is moving. The house they are thinking of renting is cute cute cute, but I am loathe to show it here, seeing as many of you may be dying to stalk my friend, who I have never mentioned till today, and certainly if I show you his cute 1950s kitchen, you will be able to find him and slice him to bits with a rusty razor.
Because it'd be worse to get sliced to bits with a RUSTY razor. Not only would you be dead, you'd be infected and dead.
The POINT of my story is that the place my friend is moving is really close to the corner where I found Tallulah. In case you are just tuning in, a year and a half ago I was driving out of town to a job interview and I found a little yellow puppy on a busy two-lane road, so I snatched her up and missed the interview. And that is how I got Tallulah, of the Fearful of Fish Tallulahs.
So I drove around and I FOUND HER CORNER! It was so exciting. Here it is.
What if the people who live here stumble on this blog and know I stole their dog? I am so dusted off. FOR THE RECORD, I stole her because she was on the street, she was so skinny I could feel every bone, and she was covered in fleas. My first instinct was to knock on all these doors, but once I held her skinny self and felt her tail flap-flap-flapping on my business interview suit, I said, Oh hell no. This pup is coming with me.
Plus, I don't even know if she lived in any of these houses. She may have been dumped off.
Here's the road I sat on with her, holding her skinny self and trying to decide what to do. I know it looks quiet, but that is actually a two-lane highway up there, and people go 65 down it.
I like that one angry strand of hair escaping from my head in the rear view mirror, there. "You may have tamed that dog, but you can't tame me, bitch lips!" Yes, my hair does call me bitch lips. What about it?
Now it is evening and it's almost time to take Henry out for firefly watching. Because he deserves to be rewarded for his constantly charming behavior.
Poor Winston has never done anything wrong in his life. Why must he be tortured by children?
Speaking of torture, there are only eight days left in that ding and also dang funniest blogger contest. Since they eliminated the cheaty-pants votes, I am in second place, after Cake Wrecks, which I find very funny. I am two million votes behind Cake Wrecks. But keep in mind they pick from the top five, so I still have a shot at winning. And if I win, I promise I will help each and every one of you move or have a party. Just let me know if there's anything I can do to help!
P.S. Keee-RAP. Longest post ever. Special of the Week goes to Lety. Go click on it and see why.