Alex and I are having a lovely day. I’m feeling very accomplished, having marked off a great deal of my to-do list.
I took Alex to Wal-Mart to pick up prescriptions and dog food, then we went to Tontitown to have lunch with Dad. Guido’s shrimp salad… yum. I am very happy to report that I got at least part of my craziness from my Dad. Remember my confession about how I count weird things? Like steps to the mail box? Well, turns out my dad does similarly weird counting. I find a strange amount of joy in learning such things!
My dad also taught me to drive, so I would like to say that he’s to blame for my current driving skills. Sadly, I’m afraid I’m just a stereotypical woman driver. He can, however, take credit for my brilliant ability to communicate with other drivers on the road. That isn’t exactly G rated, though, so I better not explain the details here.
What else did I learn today? Apparently I can be bought with Girl Scout cookies. Need me to do you a favor? That’s my price. Girl Scout cookies. Really want to soften me up? Four boxes of Girl Scout cookies should get the job done.
This afternoon I’ve been cleaning house and making preparations for Alex’s medications while Drew & I are gone. It feels great to have that organized and (hopefully) as easy as possible for whoever is giving her feedings while we are away.
Hey, want to see something funny? Well, I think it’s funny. I told you that our dogs are less than thrilled to be living on the back porch like a bunch of, um, dogs. This is how they cope and comfort each other.
My poor puppies. All huddled on one chair cushion and looking pitiful. Drew and I are nerdy enough to think this next picture is hilarious.
perfect camera angle + weird night time lighting + cell phone camera = scary glowing eyes
This picture might be due to the fluke photography, but it might also be the dogs radiating their hatred for being treated like animals. I’m going with that one, it’s funnier.
Hey Drew, guess what’s for dinner? Girl Scout cookies! Three and a half boxes, to be exact. Don’t ask what happened to the other half… I plead the fifth.