OldDogNewTits












Today has been deemed the first-ever “Romantic Monday” by a man named Edward Hotspur. The rules are simple so I thought I’d give it a try. Write a blog post that celebrates Romance. Well (ahem) okay. I’ll have a go at it.

* * * * * * * * * *

I’ve had a very exhausting weekend. A three-day fundraiser at my kids’ school to be exact. It’s always a lot of fun but it wears you out to your last thread. The kids are sorry to see it end. The parents are, too. Or at least we pretend to be as we secretly relish the idea of detoxing from all the fried food and washing the silly string and confetti out of our children’s knotted hair (as well as the rugs, carpets, sofas, floor mats, etc.). It was a great weekend for three of my four family members. Sadly, for the first time in seven years, Dave was able to attend none of it. And he was pretty broken up about it. I think even more so than he expected to be. So he asked for lots of pictures and updates throughout the weekend.

We missed you, Dave. Here’s a list of the times I wish you were there the most:

10. When Vivien sang dressed as an angel with the school choir in the auditorium.

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9. When I needed someone to share my fried pickles with so I wouldn’t eat the whole stupid basket.

8. When Dean took a turn in the dunking booth and plunged into the cholera-infested waters no less than 50 times.

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7. When I knocked him in on my SECOND try. (I’ve never thrown so well in my life.)

6. When I worked in the beer booth with a bunch of fellow crazy people.

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5. When our friends, The Rockenbraughs, sang one of your favorites, Cruel to be Kind.

4. When Viv kept winning oversized stuffed animals and I had to be the heavy to make her STOP!

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3. When I handed Dean $20 for his time spent in the dunk tank.

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2. When Ashley and I joked about hawking crab balls for two hours. (Yes, I said crab balls.)

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1. When our lovable neighbor sang Under Pressure dressed as Pee Wee Herman.

Okay, Dave. The dates are already set for 2013.

We really hope you can make it next time.

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