I Cannot Believe I Live Here

So, I made it over to Ashland City just in time for the McCain/Palin rally.  Unless I was late.  Either way, there were five old white people there.  So much for stirring excitement.

Then I came back, Frontline in hand, and washed the dog.  The tub is so nice for washing the dog because it has a nice wide lip for her to balance on as she gets in and out.

And then we went outside so she could dry and I enjoyed the hammock.  I can’t believe we have a hammock.  God, it’s so beautiful out there in the back yard, just swinging between the trees.

I wanted to try the hammock yesterday but the Butcher has this rule that you have to wear pants in the hammock.

Ha, you know, I laughed so hard because I was thinking of how Kathy and the Professor were convinced that he would never get laid with his room being the green it is and now he’s got this rule that you have to wear pants in the hammock.  I might have all the nephews I’m ever going to get.

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In Honor of the Ghost in Our Yard

I think we should tell spooky ghost stories.  Or maybe even some not so spooky ghost stories.  I’ll start with this: it appears we may have a ghost in our back yard.

I know, I know.  It’s not much of a spooky story, but it just started yesterday.

I do, however, have some stories from Octobers past to remind you of.

Here’s the spooky story of my trip to Rhode Island.

Here’s a spooky story about the Stones River Battlefield.

Here’s a spooky story about a house my parents lived in.  And part two.

Here’s a story about the ghosts of the Civil War.

Here’s a spooky story for my conservative fans.

So what I’m saying is that I’ve done my part, people of Earth.  Now it’s your turn.  Give me the willies.

Bonus points if you a.) know a story about Fisk or b.) know a story involving libertarians.