I should put a white stripe down the middle of this black hood, Readers!
We had a run-in with a skunk this week.
I'd say "I was skunked," but given the vulgarity of the urban definitions,
let's be clear on exactly what I mean to say.
I am not referring to my husbands remark when he returns home fishless
with the boat in tow and the bait bucket empty.
Hubby is too busy riding his four wheeler (one with a photographer's seat for me!),
to care much about fishing right now.
I was not referring to my Rolling Rock after it sits in the sun too long.
I am not making reference to my beautiful feet,
who have betrayed me as of late.
A stress fracture has sidelined my favorite stress relief--jogging,
for at least six weeks.
(I know it's hard to tell, but it's the fat, third toe on my right foot that has the crack).
This next one is not exactly the definition I'm looking for--but we're gaining on it.
I have a lot of these inside the Lamp Post right now.
I have the spray kind that the definition was mentioning.
I also have candles,
scented sweeper bags,
and these little gel gems I found in a three pack at Wal-Mart.
They remind me of my Grandma. She always had them in her bathroom.
I told my sister Kenyan once that the gel part was blueberry flavored,
and she licked it.
There's a sucker born every minute.
Even as far back as 1973.
There was another sucker born in 2004,
this, of the canine kind.
This, My Readers, is the true definition of getting Skunked.
Especially after Josie got sprayed,
and then ran into the house and rolled on the carpeting.
Yes, dog shaming.
I stooped to a whole new level of low.
Josie deserves it for the 2:30 am escapade on Tuesday night.
Gosh they are cute when they are babies!
And in cartoons!
When they do this----
not so much.
What did people do before facebook and 24 hour Wal-Mart?
A google search.
A public plea for help.
$7.88 cents later,
Eloise had a concoction:
Dawn dish detergent,
5 baths later, Josie sprayed snout was tamed a bit.
She's back to her happy self,
but she won't go outside to pee at night alone.
Proof that even doggies experience Post Traumatic Stress.
Natalie isn't drawing skunks this week.
She's drawing these animals instead.
We received this drawing early this week with a note attached.
See the phone number at the bottom?
I thought it would be a nice day for Sam to have a friend over
to play in the leaves last Sunday.
Mother Eloise envisioned her son and school chum, playfully jumping in raked up piles,
and making memories like all kids should.
Sam's behavior last Sunday fell further than is usual Below Average.
After throwing a fit on the bowling lanes for a gutter ball,
the afternoon play date was cancelled.
Knowing that we had sealed our fate for a long afternoon,
Hubby and I put Sam in his room to think things over.
After he slammed the door, a muffled voice on the other side yelled,
"I'm calling a lawyer on Monday!!!"
Hubby and I flopped onto opposite ends of the couch,
tipped our heads back,
After a few minutes, this hit me.
After reprimanding Sam for playing while he was supposed to be mulling things over in his bed,
he said, "It's a message. I like to write out my feelings."
It started out like this,
misplaced apostrophe and all.
It ended like this.
All I could think of while reading it was
If my son starts a blog someday I am going to have a serious drinking problem.
But for now, the RIGHT NOW,
Life is Good.
My lower back has recovered from a long ride in a school bus.
My dog has been de-stunked from de skunk.
And it's Friday night!
Time to watch my new favorite Net Flix series,
Friday Night Lights.
Thank you, Michelle for telling me about it.
I'll let Natalie say good night to all of my Dear Readers.
Enjoy your weekend!