Monday, May 15, 2006
Puppy poop. For the last month, its quanity, quality and over-all appearance has completely usurped our lives.
We discuss frequency. Consistency. We coax and encourage. Chastise and reward. I've even tried engaging the little guy in "strenuous" activity -- including chasing the rubber tire, running after the orange, fuzzy worm and doing laps around the back-yard quadrant -- to see if it would lead to ... something.
Sometimes we spot pieces of bathroom drywall. Mostly it's just salmon-and-rice flavored dry food -- but the other day I realized he's not that good at digesting sliced carrots. Or slippery mushrooms.
Stay tuned. Giraldo is next.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
He's politically incorrect, prefers tank-tops to collars and most likely would rank brewskies and smokes on his top-10-list of must-haves.
He's decidedly un-fit. Wouldn't dream of bending for a crunch, much less a squat, jump or stretch.
He's massively present. Speaks his mind. And is -- unarguably -- one of the PGA's most talented golfers. Unless he's tossing his 7-iron, bogey-ing the 18th or choking in a play-off.
John Daly is to golf what flip-flops are to me. Necessary. No-frills. Not always appropriate. And available no matter what the mood.
Sure. He's battled Jack Daniel's and our dear friend Nic O. Tine. But he lives, and plays, and laughs. And no matter what -- he'll give it his all. Flavored with a touch of sass, a shake of contempt and a healthy dose of "love me or leave me."
In a world of corporate same-ness, he's a breath of smoke-filled air.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
That was the initial list. Sixty-five minutes -- and many aisle perusals later -- we self-scanned our items. And realized. We lost the card. The no-interest-for-six-months Home Depot bit of orange-colored plastic.
Tiny in a rotund, spunky kind of way. Pleasantly chatty, with a glimmer of brilliance. "Credit Captain," her crayola-ified apron proclaimed. Little did we know that included magical powers and other-wordly customer service.
After mere moments of phone calls and smartly-punched keyboard shortcuts, we had a new card, a $25 discount and a shot at the freebie table. Really. Laden with goodies galore, Jackie insisted we choose something. Anything. A gift, if you will, for losing our card.
And voila: removing the backyard deck now sounds dreamsical.