We had a busy day with the annual Pioneer Day Parade around the city park across the street from our stake center and chapel, but we did manage to celebrate with Tank last night.
We all sang happy birthday to him (Dominic just kicked his feet and swirled his hands—that’s how he sings for now) then Ellie gave him a new peanut butter filled bone.
Tank gently took the bone from Eliana’s hand and ran outside to chow down in peace. He was very possessive of the bone all night and I had to trick him into giving it up after he repeatedly dropped it on the kitchen tile wanting to play fetch. And each time it fell fragments of bone went flying. So once the bone was put away for the night I took to vacuuming the downstairs (which is something I usually do on Saturday night anyway so at least the floors are clean for Sunday).
Ellie rode in the parade yesterday and participated in the candy throwing and water squirt gun activities. I was on traffic patrol so I saw her on the float at the beginning and end of the parade.
Right after the parade we went home—there’s only so much of 100 degree plus heat one person can stand—so Vickey could load up the truck and leave for her Pampered Chef show.
Last night we enjoyed a visit to Pier 49 Pizza and were thrilled (at least I was) to learn the joint has new owners (again) and the pizza seems to be back to its terrific state.
We made a few stops at stores looking for décor items for my office and school stuff for Eliana, then came home.
At work we’re getting the front reception area decorated. My office partner’s wife painted some very cool contemporary paintings that were hung Friday above the leather couch in the reception area. And now I’ve got a few more things from around our place and from what I picked up this weekend to finish up the room.
One of these days I’ll make it over there to paint the hallway. I figure if the office (all 1,100 square feet) is the way we want it by the time we’ve been there 12 months, we’ll be doing good. Our home still isn’t the way I’d like it after six years. Someday . . .
At any rate, happy birthday to Tank. He’s a pretty lucky dog. He’s lucky we feed him organic dog food from Wild Oats. He’s lucky he’s in a nice air conditioned home during these crazy Vegas summers. He’s lucky I haven’t beaten him to death for waking me up so many nights. He’s lucky to have his new Superman nametag with a special rubber ring around it (another birthday present) so it doesn’t clatter every time he shakes his floppy ears. And he’s lucky to still have his manhood intact (that’s going to change this summer though).
If bull’s testicles are called Rocky Mountain Oysters, what do you think a weimaraner’s testicles could be called? Anyone want to come over for a barbeque? We could save Tank’s testicles for you.
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