I Interrupt this broadcast
I just deleted a VERY LONG ENTRY. By accident. I don't want to talk about it.
Here is the short version of those many, many paragraphs:
It's my Daddy's birthday. As you can imagine, we are feeling especially lucky to have him this year. "Lucky" may have translated to cocktails. I will neither confirm nor deny, but I just ran full-speed into an end table, so you can draw your own conclusions there.
Anyway, I have a ton of pictures to post, and I am believing you pretty people who say that you, too, have pictures to share, and so I set up a Flickr group. But, I am not going to deal with any of that right now, because right now, I AM GOING TO BED. Sleepy in the head! And fall over. Ow to knee, the end. (But hi, new bruise! You look like France!)
I won't totally leave you hanging, though. Want some Bo? Want to see how he sleeps now, every night, like a little brown crazy person? Too bad if you said no!
YOU TELL BO STORY. ABOUT HOW BO KILL STUFF.
Honestly, I know it looks absurd, but I didn't put him like that. That's how Bo arranges himself, head on pillow, covers drawn. I don't know how he does it, because I never actually see it happening, but I am pretty sure he has evolved himself some opposable thumbs and is keeping it on the downlow. To which I say: well played, dachshund. You are a crafty, crafty mammal.
But, hello. Speaking of bed, I am about to fall asleep standing up (actually I am sitting, but details are boring), so I am going to go join him. I'll talk to y'all tomorrow, but for now, I just hope I can get my pillow back with a minimum of bloodshed.