Back from the Northwoods
On our first day there, I thought I would take a quiet walk with the dogs. The boys and I headed up a dirt road that actually has a fair amount of grass poking through. The kid saw us leaving and insisted on coming along. Now, before she was born, I took a lot of quiet walks up there with my dogs each summer. We'd walk those peaceful, scarcely-used roads and check out the scenery. Now, with she-who-must-narrate-every-nuance-of-daily-life along . . . not so quiet.
My senior dog, Karl, was still wrung out from the long car ride, and started chewing grass to calm his old-man stomach.
"Hey, Karl is eating grass! Now he's puking! Why is he puking? I puked one time, but I puked in a bowl. I didn't puke outside. Why is there grass in the road? The grass tickles your tires when you drive on it. There are a lot of bugs here. Hey, Karlie is puking again! I puked last time, but I puked in a bowl."
It was nice to have days where my biggest concern was whether or not the hummingbird feeder was empty. But now, I must pay the piper and work . . . (well, technically, I am paid by a corporation and not a piper, but you know what I mean).
Karl on the boat - we couldn't tell if he liked it or not. Guessing not.
Gideon, checking out the lake.