Fall Begins…In July?

I know it’s early. Hey, I hear ya! It’s not even the 4th of July yet, man. No, that’s tomorrow. Typically I don’t get into a fall mood until after the 5th. But this year, the weather has been fall-like, so I’ve been like, screw it. If I want to be in a Halloween/fall mood in July, so be it. So I went to Hobby Lobby and this is what I found, and I could be more unashamedly happy…

 

Happy fall, ya’ll!

Look What’s Back At Michael’s!

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I know it’s darn early, but I can’t help it. There’s something wrong with me. Every year at this time I have to wander Hobby Lobby and Michael’s and Party City, looking for the Halloween stuff. It really is some kind of illness, one that manifests itself in pumpkins, skeletons, and stupid childlike grins. And here we are, again. The season on witches is upon us and the trappings of said season are slowly infiltrating…. and I can’t stop grinning…
I know, it’s sick….

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What The What?

So we made two stops this weekend.

Now remember, today is only the 8th of July, so we’re talking about the 5th and 6th.

The first stop was Wal-Mart, where we had to get my son’s glasses adjusted. If you didn’t know, glasses are a horrible invention for an 8 year old. Sure, they help with things like vision and headaches and concentration at school, but really, with all of our amazing technology and the most recent breakthroughs in alloys and engineering, can’t we come up with something a bit more durable?

An eight year old should never be trusted with something that costs upwards of $100 and goes on their face. Have you seen an eight year old? They are walking catastrophes. Mine in particular, thinks that using his head means banging the door open with his cranium. The boy is a walking tornado, and by the time he gets to be a teenager we will own our own wing at the local hospital.

Anyway, we walked into the eyeglass showroom. I turned around to glance back into the store and noticed this:

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Celebrating the 4th of July

So yesterday was the fourth.

I had meant to post this little ditty last night, but we didn’t get home until midnight and I had a really important meeting this morning, so I had to go straight to bed – after all, Deigh without his beauty sleep is an ugly sight to behold.

Unfortunately, my neighbors must not have realized that I wanted seven hours of good shuteye, because those jackwagons decided to shoot huge booming artillery shells off until about two in the morning. I tried putting a pillow over my head, sleeping in the closet, and finally shooting a warning shot out my back sliding door with my 12 gauge, but none of it worked. Finally, after I began pelting them with frozen balls of dog feces (don’t ask, don’t tell)  I fell into an irritated, restless sleep that led to dreams of Bea Arthur, some Nutella, and a collie named Beau.

But back to yesterday . . .

As per usual, the Misses and I hauled our little family over to my cousin’s house by the lake. There was boating, tubing, swimming, eating, drinking, and my cousin, Tommy. Let me tell you, after a few Midori melon bombs, that guy is really a hoot to be around, just keep him away from the sister-in-laws.

But the real attraction, and the reason we continue to go year after year is actually quite simple. You see, I like fireworks, but I hate spending $200 – $300 on something I am going to blow up. Luckily, my cousin is an attorney and most of his friends have money – money to burn – money to blow stuff up with. I swear these guys save up all year, and are literally dying to blow up $100 bills if given half the chance.

They come like pilgrims, bringing their offerings for the gods of BOOM!

Behold, the shrine of wonder.

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