tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-354115992024-02-03T01:49:53.672-06:00STAY-AT-HOME-DOGBogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.comBlogger476125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-27802865972054515152011-05-21T13:30:00.001-05:002011-05-21T13:32:32.069-05:00The Queen on her court<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">Claire Stewart takes the in-bounds pass from Papa Stew.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">She drives to her left, throws in an amazing spin move and shakes her defender.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">She drives two steps to her right, stutter steps, then reverses direction toward the hoop.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">With only seconds left on the clock, she sets her feet and squares up to the basket.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">Making this shot means the state title. A miss means a long, agonizing bike ride home.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">She releases the ball as the buzzer sounds. It's up... it's GOOD!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">The crowd goes wild!!! Claire runs over to high five her Papa. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">After a short trip home, it's time to hit the bathtub then off to bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">It was a good night at the park...</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='454' height='400' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx0hxp6KxPAyLYuY8hpEMi6zMKX1F4UkKwcyfUTSJt2L5scNi0R0LMcNwrpk_o5DtwXV1q141Oecjo' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">“I have missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I have lost almost 300 games. On 26 occasions I have been entrusted to take the game winning shot...and missed. And I have failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why... I succeed.”</span></i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></i><span style="font-size: small;">- Michael Jordan</span><i><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></i></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-64643369866803027622011-03-17T13:24:00.000-05:002011-03-17T13:24:59.854-05:00Gone Mad!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAQRpwFMkZgWCM6Ntfu7zQjSnetximSFp6z2kf4tvfhIxAbjgjcIgQYDVDRDqkwPB3PiVwZtZ1nvGx6gufylFjcSLpU880EDTJLDFXqaNsVPM2Y09fwCzd3GHPHMyk-LMYM4WOTA/s1600/stpatricksday7.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAQRpwFMkZgWCM6Ntfu7zQjSnetximSFp6z2kf4tvfhIxAbjgjcIgQYDVDRDqkwPB3PiVwZtZ1nvGx6gufylFjcSLpU880EDTJLDFXqaNsVPM2Y09fwCzd3GHPHMyk-LMYM4WOTA/s200/stpatricksday7.gif" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Is there any better time of the year? Seriously. I don't want to get all religious, but <b style="color: red;">March Madness</b> gives meaning to my life. And here I bet you thought I was going to write about the virtues and reverence of <span style="color: lime;">green</span> beer. Well, while I do love drinking beer until I'm green in the face, I'll take March Madness over St. Patrick's Day or any other holiday for that matter. As usual, I'm parked on the couch in front of the TV. However, unlike my college days, I'm sipping on a Starbucks Venti Iced Mocha rather than a longneck bottle of Old Milwaukee Light. Of course, I've entered a few NCAA basketball pools, which really hasn't gone well for me since the 1990's (when I actually followed teams and watched college basketball most week nights and Saturday afternoons). But this year, I tried to get Claire involved so she could enter a pool for the chance of adding some cash to her piggy bank.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHwSvaQqKQ6Hrk6_xeOUbp9SlruIkUvLkbRZCT09W99PK3nSF7K0drQUAnmt8Ocnrq4vEvI_OWH7w7xhcTZ_bDd_w7nxi7V6suszJ_iOVZoxm3FgsLr6eipRKXeFsl5TPy5U3t5g/s1600/bearcat-logo.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHwSvaQqKQ6Hrk6_xeOUbp9SlruIkUvLkbRZCT09W99PK3nSF7K0drQUAnmt8Ocnrq4vEvI_OWH7w7xhcTZ_bDd_w7nxi7V6suszJ_iOVZoxm3FgsLr6eipRKXeFsl5TPy5U3t5g/s1600/bearcat-logo.png" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So last night, I sat her at the kitchen table with a bracket printed out. I started by asking her, <i>"Okay, Claire... who will win between Duke and Hampton?"</i> to which she replied, <i>"Hampton!"</i> Then I asked, <i>"Who will win between Michigan and Tennessee?"</i> She answered, <i>"Tennessee!"</i> I asked, <i>"What about Arizona and Memphis?"</i> And she'd say, <i>"Memphis!"</i> This continued for a short while before I realized she was only repeating the name of the second school in each match-up. So I decided on a different strategy and would let Claire choose between the mascot names. Well, since Claire is a big fan of animals (or as she likes to say, <i>"aminals"</i>), our little prognosticator has determined that any team with a bear, dog, cat or bird mascot is going to do quite well in the NCAA Tournament - and Claire REALLY likes the Cincinnati Bearcats... too bad there's no such thing as a Bearcat Birdhound mascot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But Claire's favorite team - and her pick to win The Big Dance - is the University of Richmond. And why? Well, according to Claire, the <i style="color: blue;"><b>Richmond Spiders</b></i> is by far the funniest team name (sorry University of Akron Zips). So if you don't have Richmond going far in your office pool, then you might as well throw away your brackets and look forward to next year's tournament.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbJgu2g_dnmhfYSLwv3wv30_LXW4tI_Qv2XqUUxIEwQkFaMDY8yT5iGBAE5jQjUv9f9mmipdyaZyo1V7H_NzKji6ziOKR6PtrA5cAKVfm-YOyyVdVgEOZgbLN3zhondW7u85enQ/s1600/Richmond_Spiders.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbJgu2g_dnmhfYSLwv3wv30_LXW4tI_Qv2XqUUxIEwQkFaMDY8yT5iGBAE5jQjUv9f9mmipdyaZyo1V7H_NzKji6ziOKR6PtrA5cAKVfm-YOyyVdVgEOZgbLN3zhondW7u85enQ/s640/Richmond_Spiders.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-66304306315419391452011-03-11T16:16:00.000-06:002011-03-11T16:16:38.392-06:00Future All-State Basketball Player<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Here's Claire at her basketball practice Wednesday evening... showing the crowd how old she is.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_RcnweiQVauLP6m2h1pCI9mlVhVmpkzLh-UKnZtN3cmvu9_NwzdUnKduSORyIBHP5onkZld9LI6_OUtWcoPy4RPTyEMwoFNwT7WSTKGrXxxP2zFJXVK6hLScSe-mjEPDY9uQJOg/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="481" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_RcnweiQVauLP6m2h1pCI9mlVhVmpkzLh-UKnZtN3cmvu9_NwzdUnKduSORyIBHP5onkZld9LI6_OUtWcoPy4RPTyEMwoFNwT7WSTKGrXxxP2zFJXVK6hLScSe-mjEPDY9uQJOg/s320/photo.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-49838511984371080402011-03-11T00:33:00.000-06:002011-03-11T00:33:23.089-06:00Bogey's first national TV commercial<iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/_bI1_-CPwQs?fs=1" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" width="425"></iframe><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-78872227768355513962011-02-27T15:23:00.000-06:002011-02-27T15:23:23.774-06:00Busey is back!<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This is either super cute or quite possibly the scariest thing I've ever seen...</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-4LnAuf9IjzYfdnFvKLU_Rc4Vc50BREltffgkCSqKvYXeAe8namkrxPOQldGMtCFDyf9KN4NvJ22aLB9Zb8J3P4T8pNdAHVvrpjHkATTVNS4XOkOEKJmLiGWWHDoGQbDQyAW-w/s1600/Busey+hostage.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="507" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-4LnAuf9IjzYfdnFvKLU_Rc4Vc50BREltffgkCSqKvYXeAe8namkrxPOQldGMtCFDyf9KN4NvJ22aLB9Zb8J3P4T8pNdAHVvrpjHkATTVNS4XOkOEKJmLiGWWHDoGQbDQyAW-w/s320/Busey+hostage.png" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Thank you (I think), Veronica, for sending me this photo.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-43364961478955810602011-01-21T09:33:00.000-06:002011-01-21T09:33:21.459-06:00Got worms?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhXfUn7CrgHlZKTWb8jnIVSxQZTxmYRC4yUOCTaY-aefDqmURbBOkcr1sID0JyBcN5xle3Yt57jaNA9LLANHlGuhzR_me-uU1ojXyWQQWqVAEFSwuSqLFogOCGrXBfP3vaRKUMw/s1600/dog+in+bed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhXfUn7CrgHlZKTWb8jnIVSxQZTxmYRC4yUOCTaY-aefDqmURbBOkcr1sID0JyBcN5xle3Yt57jaNA9LLANHlGuhzR_me-uU1ojXyWQQWqVAEFSwuSqLFogOCGrXBfP3vaRKUMw/s320/dog+in+bed.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">The story below is a bit alarming; however, it explains a lot... such as, why a friend of ours - who shall remain nameless (even though I'm pretty sure most people who know Kermit will know I'm talking about him) - can often be found at home, sitting pantsless on the floor while dragging himself across the carpeting</span>. <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> It's an interesting article... but be warned those of you who allow your pets to sleep in your bed!</span><br />
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<div style="color: red;"><a href="http://www.aolnews.com/2011/01/20/letting-sleeping-dogs-lie-in-your-bed-can-kill-you/"><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Letting Sleeping Dogs Lie in Your Bed Can Kill You</span></b></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-29901012741659574672010-09-30T14:08:00.000-05:002010-09-30T14:08:18.484-05:00Dog Days of... Autumn?<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">I'm just gonna put this here. From Bogey and Auntie Karen's friend, Touche`...</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRYxpkINEmVw0usy2T0WdSmDJJWLheSWOIbukcSrHhqE7SIi6sS7-O7vFhbAAAw7_KUy7kYphcyIrmdMfZc_oyxX4w2Z24kYhFH78BypIZE9H74H1kkB1ZzmSyMgwH57QO_fy4Gg/s1600/Touche'+is+so+sad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRYxpkINEmVw0usy2T0WdSmDJJWLheSWOIbukcSrHhqE7SIi6sS7-O7vFhbAAAw7_KUy7kYphcyIrmdMfZc_oyxX4w2Z24kYhFH78BypIZE9H74H1kkB1ZzmSyMgwH57QO_fy4Gg/s320/Touche'+is+so+sad.jpg" width="680" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-59676166648293519942010-08-19T15:21:00.013-05:002010-08-19T23:45:26.069-05:00In A Pickle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVX7BTpG9EsYpJkod72jgZYxbIsRudPFkLG_jrSv04NdbbM6wFZEOYy_BxlvcUklyhhtIIDH1BIia7QyaGVWz2tr1Sa9dDCydoKwvjO4eAY9zZMnYU2TztyBjhqZm6-_ps-pZrIA/s1600/in+a+pickle-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVX7BTpG9EsYpJkod72jgZYxbIsRudPFkLG_jrSv04NdbbM6wFZEOYy_BxlvcUklyhhtIIDH1BIia7QyaGVWz2tr1Sa9dDCydoKwvjO4eAY9zZMnYU2TztyBjhqZm6-_ps-pZrIA/s320/in+a+pickle-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It was harvest time for Claire and me in <i><b style="color: #38761d;">The Stewart Family Garden</b></i> today. Unlike last year, I didn't plant six rows of corn and a bunch of jalapeno peppers. I tend to eat the jalapenos as fast as they mature, so it's easier to buy them from the grocer or at the farmer's market. And last season I failed to ask Grandma or Grandpa Thullner - the real farmers in the family - for advice prior to planting the six rows of corn... which explains why we had ears of corn coming out of our ears last year. I also made the mistake of planting all the corn at the same time, as opposed to two weeks apart like Grandma T later suggested. Doing so would have produced two mini-harvests versus one ginormous one. Luckily, Grandma T was here for last year's harvest to help me blanch and freeze what seemed to be hundreds of ears of corn. Of course, by <i>"helping"</i> I mean <i>"doing everything while I sat by sipping on an ice cold beer and taking notes just in case I ever have to do this by myself"</i>. Well, we apparently didn't learn from our mistakes last season. Instead of rows of corn, Linda planted a bunch of lettuce... way more lettuce than a family of 2.5 people can possibly consume, especially when one of the 2.5 people rarely eats veggies unless they are capable of setting your mouth ablaze (ask Claire about her Papa's infamous Jalapeno Pizza). But having too much lettuce <strike>is</strike> was the least of our problems (we actually dug up all the lettuce and threw it away after it started tasting bitter, thereby pissing off every wascally wabbit in the weighborhood). Our current predicament has to do with a bumper crop of cucumbers. Like last year - when we realized we had WAY too many cucumbers - Linda planted EXACTLY the same number of cucumber plants. But unlike last year, Grandma T isn't here to "help" Linda make a pantry full of canned pickles. Gee, I wonder why Grandma isn't planning to visit until AFTER harvest this year? Anyway, we have cucumbers coming out of our ass... Whoa! Since this is sorta a family blog, I'll restate my comment in code: <i>we <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwV6PmUY5GV37Fuq2YOpjQ3CayI-1ls2FGCA_ijOFiKD-M2_CKiNmoWyfNjO7yl_YqkrerM6VAjPx7TU0T2lF19VIZxX-iRE5Y0Bfo9oFYL4GjTPP1XBEZqgtI0nhxNpx2JBszKw/s1600/in+a+pickle-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwV6PmUY5GV37Fuq2YOpjQ3CayI-1ls2FGCA_ijOFiKD-M2_CKiNmoWyfNjO7yl_YqkrerM6VAjPx7TU0T2lF19VIZxX-iRE5Y0Bfo9oFYL4GjTPP1XBEZqgtI0nhxNpx2JBszKw/s320/in+a+pickle-2.jpg" /></a>have an overabundance of Cucumis sativus protruding from our Glenn Becks!</i> Unfortunately, the only two things Linda knows how to make with a cucumber are: 1) cucumber salad and 2) a keep-Stew-in-line projectile. But 17 days in a row of eating cucumber salad (and three trips to the ER for severe concussions) can take its toll on a family, not to mention our health savings account. So if anyone has any G-rated ideas of what to do with these cucumbers, please let me know. I've already contacted a few friends, plus Claire's preschool, to see if anyone wants one, two or 22 cucumbers. This photo is just from today's harvest, and there are a lot more cucumbers on their way. In the meantime, Claire and I are going to see if anything good can happen when we take a food processor and fill it with our freshly picked tomatoes, some cilantro, a red onion and a bunch of funny looking hot peppers we bought at the farmer's market yesterday. The Hmong farmer who sold me the peppers just smiled and nodded when I asked, <i>"Are these peppers hot?"</i> When I asked him <i>"How hot"</i>, he just smiled and nodded again. I thought maybe he was playing some Jedi mind trick on me, so I tested him with one more question. I asked, <i>"Do you think my wife is a very lucky woman?"</i> Well he passed my test, but I'm not quite sure why Claire burst into laughter after I asked the last question. Oh well... </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In other Carver County news... as alluded to in yesterday's <strike>post</strike> rant, we recently attended the Carver County Fair in luxurious Downtown Waconia. The day we went was the first day the heat index wasn't 683 degrees (I think it was about an 85 degree day), plus the fairgrounds weren't overcrowded. As far as I know, I'm the only person alive who gets road rage in the middle of a large crowd. I can't even go to <b>Costco </b>without wanting to run down a half dozen different people for driving their cart too slowly... or stopping their cart in the middle of the aisle when grabbing a food sample from the little old sample lady. And don't even get me started on the lazy-asses who can't seem to grasp the concept of a cart bin. You know, it's the place where you push your empty cart after you've put all your groceries into your vehicle. Unless, of course, you choose to simply leave your cart sitting in the middle of an open parking space. Geezus, I'm getting Stewed just thinking about it, so I'd best move on. But where was I? Oh yea - the Carver County Fair.<br />
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So besides wanting to ride on the carousel and drive a car all by herself, Claire wanted to see <span style="font-size: large;"><i style="color: red;"><b>The Extreme Canine Stunt Dog Show</b></i></span>... which is essentially a bunch of frisbee dogs, a couple of which are also agility specialists (dogs that run through an obstacle course really, REALLY fast). When we took our seats in the bleachers, the lead dog trainer was selling dog ear visors to help raise money for local dog rescue agencies. Speaking of which - if you'll allow me to go a little off track (as if you have a choice) - I've come up with a brilliant idea for a dog rescue/adoption program. It's modeled after the guns-for-cash program used in many gang-infested neighborhoods around the country. But instead of giving up a gun in exchange for cash, my program involves people turning in a cat to get a dog. It's like killing two birds with one stone... or something like that. It's a win-win for everyone. We get a bunch of miserable cats off the street, plus a lot of cool dogs find happy homes. Our friend, Dee (aka Aunt Dee-Rosemount), has two cats, so I'm going to target her for my very first customer - even though she also already has one really awesome dog. But who knows? Maybe if she keeps collecting cats and exchanging them for dogs she'll have a pretty good dog sled team come wintertime. Anyway, getting back to the stunt dog show...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUI-b7FLFTnE1V8LLbAiXuJgP9RFTxpX1UezEwiZqgJcvI-yXkz8W-M61B_sr5SZjKz84c9K1nUkGgnWwYZ8EsF7i-wngUvnAeVjw92EUc_oj5OUy3iLW-BDqKk_MQhu6c9VySzQ/s1600/Extreme+Canine+Stunt+Dog+Visor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUI-b7FLFTnE1V8LLbAiXuJgP9RFTxpX1UezEwiZqgJcvI-yXkz8W-M61B_sr5SZjKz84c9K1nUkGgnWwYZ8EsF7i-wngUvnAeVjw92EUc_oj5OUy3iLW-BDqKk_MQhu6c9VySzQ/s400/Extreme+Canine+Stunt+Dog+Visor.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>After we bought Claire a dog ear visor, we learned that anyone who purchased the visor can volunteer to be part of the show. So as soon as the trainer asked for volunteers, Claire's hand popped up. Of course, being someone with low self-esteem and an intense fear of having people watch me, my natural instinct was to push Claire's hand down and say, <i>"Oh no, Claire... you don't want to do this... trust me."</i> But instead, I sat by quietly with my head down while I nervously bounced my knee up and down secretly hoping the trainer wouldn't see Claire's hand. Then I heard the trainer ask, <i>"How about you?"</i> I looked up, relieved to see the trainer pointing to some other little girl. There was some murmuring back and forth between the trainer and the girl's parents, and all I could make out was that the little girl wanted one of her parents to go out on the dog field with her. That's when the trainer said something to the effect that the kid has to be old enough to go alone. And there was my excuse. I could dissuade Claire from volunteering because there's no way she'd go out there all by herself. Not with more than 100 strangers staring at you, waiting for you to do something embarrassing - something to shame the family name! But before I could warn Claire, the dog trainer pointed at her and asked, <i>"Do you want to come out here and be a stunt dog?"</i> Claire didn't even give it a second thought. She hopped off the bleacher and headed for the gate leading to the field. She was later joined by two six year old kids or, rather, <i>stunt dogs</i>.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitoFyRfoI7XLuolYFJf6aZif9SVDnVWN-rHU2PCeDEB5Xkguq4JxRUSKzSnbIbYa1ivb0-PzwTFoCxVQziwpQB9_QNE9yQD_zauAs2svVdi_AWZh707OpVthH1v_o3ENCgDE9ZGw/s1600/speed+racer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitoFyRfoI7XLuolYFJf6aZif9SVDnVWN-rHU2PCeDEB5Xkguq4JxRUSKzSnbIbYa1ivb0-PzwTFoCxVQziwpQB9_QNE9yQD_zauAs2svVdi_AWZh707OpVthH1v_o3ENCgDE9ZGw/s200/speed+racer.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Besides having a wonderful time at the county fair - up until the point where Claire started whining incessantly about wanting to go on more rides - I learned a valuable lesson that day. I realized I haven't managed to screw up Claire too badly. Not yet anyway. Our biggest fear is Claire will grow up lacking confidence, something Linda and I both struggle with in our own ways. So we're always mindful to try to give Claire opportunities to make her own decisions and praise her for doing so. I'm not sure what stopped me from stopping Claire that day at the fair, but I'm so happy I didn't... or did? Whatever, you know what I mean.<br />
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Below is a video I shot of <i>Claire the Stunt Dog</i>. Unfortunately, both the sound and image quality are horrible, plus after uploading all my video footage I found out the part showing Claire walking out to greet the dog trainer and telling her her name was missing. So the video picks up with the trainer asking Claire how old she is. Enjoy...</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> <object height="525" width="660"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Mri8IH9D9eU?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Mri8IH9D9eU?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="660" height="525"></embed></object></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-73649999987168774312010-08-18T15:59:00.004-05:002010-08-19T00:22:14.333-05:00Fear and Loathing in Chaska<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Well, folks, the funk continues. I'm mildly depressed and don't have much to say these days. Plus I recently stumbled upon the comments section of the <i>OPINIONS </i>page of my hometown's online newspaper, so now I'm bordering on angry. It's apparent the <i>SoDak Public Broadcast System</i> isn't being very well utilized. Then again, who needs a liberal bastion of fact-based news when opinion delivered in a way that only resembles actual news is so readily accessible on <i><b>Fox News</b></i>? Anyway, to make things worse, I was at the Chaska Community Center this morning to workout. And by <i>"workout"</i> I mean <i>"half-assedly use the elliptical machine that faces the glass wall of the aerobics room so I can watch the Spandex-clad ladies in Step Class for 30 minutes before I head to Starbucks for a Venti Iced Mocha on my way back home to lie on the couch"</i>. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzUasf4oMB-qGU2G8TQ8GiENwiXlwkypGWQcbzdEkx50tW5KYiwcAaXlRnjsGbX_PhflJFeOUpw-B7nq_sdBOaoqQeQV_cYjI6tY2FThPqRdIhXALSm22d6VVNzpU68yQz-1fL1w/s1600/bible+study.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzUasf4oMB-qGU2G8TQ8GiENwiXlwkypGWQcbzdEkx50tW5KYiwcAaXlRnjsGbX_PhflJFeOUpw-B7nq_sdBOaoqQeQV_cYjI6tY2FThPqRdIhXALSm22d6VVNzpU68yQz-1fL1w/s320/bible+study.jpg" width="320" /></a>So I'm walking down the corridor of the so-called "community center", and I stumbled upon a Wednesday Bible study taking place in a room adjacent to <i>The Lodge</i> - the privately-owned portion of the community center reserved for <i>Active Older Adults</i> (also known as the over 55 crowd). I was shocked! So shocked I snapped a photo of the meeting with my camera phone. I mean, how can they put a Bible study room inside a community center? This is supposed to be a place where residents are able to enjoy a swimming pool, two gymnasiums, a fitness center, an ice-skating rink, an indoor soccer field, a theater, a soup/sandwich deli, and a cultural art center. Okay, so the cultural art center is actually the hallway outside the theater where you can sometimes find works of art from local artisans, but still. And to make matters worse, the community center is located in the hallowed grounds of Downtown Chaska! Well, pretty close to downtown. Actually it's about a mile north on Chestnut Drive then right on Engler Boulevard a couple blocks then left on Park Ridge Drive and - BOOM - you're right there! You can't actually see the community center from downtown, but it's still pretty damned close. Just where do these elderly people get off studying the Bible in MY community center? Yea, I know we have a Constitution that says some bullsh!t about freedom of religion, but I'm confused and scared so I just don't like it! Hell, they might as well call it the <i>"Downtown Chaska Church"</i>! In fact, I think that's what I'll start calling it even though it's not really near downtown and only about 1/10th of one percent of the space is being used for religious purposes. You know something else? I wonder what our three candidates for Minnesota Governor think about this issue! Who cares about the state's $6B budget deficit or the unemployment rate or lack of adequate funding for early childhood education when more than half of our state's kids are not prepared for kindergarten? All that stuff can wait - this <i>Downtown Chaska Church</i> issue is critical, and I need to know where each candidate stands! I wonder how it's going to affect the election? <a href="http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/mon-august-16-2010/mosque-erade">I can only hope the local media picks up on this and runs with it ad infinitum until November</a>. I want others to be as confused by - and afraid of - old people studying the Bible as I am. Sure, it starts with a Wednesday Bible study, but where does it end? Old people have been hell bent on destroying America for as long as I can remember. Don't believe that bullsh!t about the elderly being a kindly group. I've known more than a few cranky old people in my day, therefore I can only assume ALL OLD PEOPLE ARE MEAN! It's scary to think about where this could lead, and it's best we put an end to it now before it's too late.<br />
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In other horse sh!t news, here's a picture of a pissed-off Claire riding a sad pony at the happy Carver County Fair. This photo was taken just moments before Claire's pony dropped a load. Good times...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6UXY9vmmX0Q7wC1KeRcnrw8uG5IpeyFJtM5CflcnVAbHpYm7qcTIfPRlPO1LaMPFp7vbrvWgJpgrxrxFoCgi6-L2JYxqzPihiJQSmkJSerOJ0TBHlie8LN1mWz5GlCObG_hyphenhyphenjJg/s1600/pony+ride+from+Hell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6UXY9vmmX0Q7wC1KeRcnrw8uG5IpeyFJtM5CflcnVAbHpYm7qcTIfPRlPO1LaMPFp7vbrvWgJpgrxrxFoCgi6-L2JYxqzPihiJQSmkJSerOJ0TBHlie8LN1mWz5GlCObG_hyphenhyphenjJg/s640/pony+ride+from+Hell.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> <br />
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</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-85499053087765149672010-08-12T10:31:00.006-05:002010-08-12T23:56:09.364-05:00Oh, No... here we go again!<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8NNalDsYm-ARPDOmBYddpR7YtvUrWy4LiOX0A5Lu3_tbgb8dK3ebXiySYZhdfayIPEprKcghsDqT6unKcCnNZwqa98t8eOFwR5xk8F8GLryBgbwnTOtIOdEHjWY4SE8b64W1iA/s1600/teabaggers-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8NNalDsYm-ARPDOmBYddpR7YtvUrWy4LiOX0A5Lu3_tbgb8dK3ebXiySYZhdfayIPEprKcghsDqT6unKcCnNZwqa98t8eOFwR5xk8F8GLryBgbwnTOtIOdEHjWY4SE8b64W1iA/s320/teabaggers-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I made the mistake of watching Sunday morning talk shows last weekend, and I was reminded of many things I'm reading about in a Charlie Pierce book I recently purchased. Here's an excerpt from it that pretty much sums up my feelings about the TeaBagger crowd, Glenn Beck (and his disciples), and bat-sh!t crazy politicians like Minnesota's own Michelle Bachmann...<br />
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<i>This is still the best country ever devised in which to be completely out of your mind, and we are free to believe in nonsense. We are free to act on nonsense. We are free to stand aside and let our fellow citizens who believe in nonsense take up the task of self-government that we are too busy, or too lazy, or too distracted to take up ourselves. What we cannot do is walk away from the consequences of believing nonsense.</i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkD0a4qfXVeNCBMXqRjig9hF-9us-URnVDVhiFvPj6PaTSmKFOzXIIInqEx4FP2rhhtio4LDvr775Ry62KIlZ5zPp_MIyPrQTDtiJZ3mHcIlBdfnsZCVz6rjM5d4ZkC6whVcVyfg/s1600/teabagger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkD0a4qfXVeNCBMXqRjig9hF-9us-URnVDVhiFvPj6PaTSmKFOzXIIInqEx4FP2rhhtio4LDvr775Ry62KIlZ5zPp_MIyPrQTDtiJZ3mHcIlBdfnsZCVz6rjM5d4ZkC6whVcVyfg/s320/teabagger.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><i>Suddenly, we were hearing again about hidden hands controlling the economy and how the Nazis were really socialists because they were called the National Socialist Party. Hell, we were hearing about socialism itself... Now, it was being shouted at members of Congress by the angry elderly at summertime town hall meetings, and chanted by the more ambulatory among them at Tea Party marches. All of it aimed at an administration that was full to the gunwales with Wall Street drones, an irony the went so far over the heads of the rabidly anti-Obama crowd that it may well be orbiting Saturn by now.</i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b style="color: orange;">IDIOT AMERICA: How Stupidity Became a Virtue in the Land of the Free</b></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">By Charlie Pierce - Author, <i>Boston Globe</i> reporter, and national treasure<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Yea, I know this stuff belongs in the <b>PAW-LITICS </b>section of this blog, but I'm too busy, or too lazy, or too distracted to put it there. I'm just tired of hearing how everything is a secret liberal plot: from Medicare reimbursements for end-of-life planning with your doctor (also known as "Death Panels") to Photoshopped birth certificates to a White House full of [quote] "radicals". Well, I guess it's true if by <i>radical </i>you mean <i>Wall Street insider and holdover from the Clinton Administration</i>. And what's up with thrice-married, family values puking, Newt Gingrich? <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKoqL2C4P0kjjs9bRzkUP6-WAVvfaIx4Iwac32TYbNZrPUTFpA-akhyFLccqLQrB3Kfkw1nJA6cBpKhTQaIr22vQ9tn_DonmkxTeTTQyGu0iPRTcfaQ6wW11Ykt51bqIcy3kEzlw/s1600/gingrich_clown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKoqL2C4P0kjjs9bRzkUP6-WAVvfaIx4Iwac32TYbNZrPUTFpA-akhyFLccqLQrB3Kfkw1nJA6cBpKhTQaIr22vQ9tn_DonmkxTeTTQyGu0iPRTcfaQ6wW11Ykt51bqIcy3kEzlw/s200/gingrich_clown.jpg" width="138" /></a>I mean, I always thought Newt was a major league douchebag even back when I was a die-hard Republican brainwashed to believe Republican equates to lower deficits (despite the facts proving the contrary). The Newtster was kicked out of congress in disgrace more than a decade ago, yet now he's somehow relevant again. How does that happen? Then again, if a leaderless - and rudderless - party is going to put the likes of Sarah Palin, Rush Limbaugh, and Glenn Beck up on pedestals, I guess that sorta opens the door to everybody who is anybody with an agenda to <b>sell</b>. And I mean sell in the literal sense. There's loads of cash to be made as a sleazy politician, and <a href="http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0410/35989.html">here's the proof</a>. And there's even more money to be made off stupid people (<i>see the aforementioned multimillionaire Glenn Beck</i>). So now I get labeled a "liberal" because I like to share my disgust of the GOP, even though I hardly think Obama or the democrats have much courage to do much better since all politicians are puppets to the multinational corporations that pull the strings. Whatever. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kfeE35N1ggaDoJbDVpoSRzsQi2Xoye10IFuQD-BKVwaywVH12CmaVZFkABGhyphenhyphenY5rxoGDURwk0feQtuk7n6Dk63fmWlKfETU1Nk6B8w55AM_um8OSFb0g_dkRZo8V19DqiyJ41A/s1600/tax+rates+for+the+rich.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kfeE35N1ggaDoJbDVpoSRzsQi2Xoye10IFuQD-BKVwaywVH12CmaVZFkABGhyphenhyphenY5rxoGDURwk0feQtuk7n6Dk63fmWlKfETU1Nk6B8w55AM_um8OSFb0g_dkRZo8V19DqiyJ41A/s320/tax+rates+for+the+rich.jpg" /></a>But I admit it - I'm grateful for every day I wake up in a country where George Bush is no longer president. Plus - as any TeaBagger who stumbles upon this blog will tell you - I, too, enjoy labeling people... especially stupid people less interested in the real facts and more keen on being spoon-fed political talking points in the form of cherry-picked "news" nuggets matching a particular political ideology - facts be damned! As Pierce puts it, how has a country founded on intellectual curiosity deteriorated into a nation of simpletons more apt to vote for an <b><i>American Idol</i></b> contestant than a presidential candidate? But I'm assuming my four faithful readers can see through the current GOP smoke screen about calling the expiration of the Bush Tax Cuts a tax increase. Or how extending the tax cuts somehow doesn't affect the deficit. But if you're not paying attention, I know someone who is who can explain it better than any so-called "news" source.<br />
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</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" height="353" style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #333333; font-family: arial; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left; width: 360px;"><tbody>
<tr style="background-color: #e5e5e5;" valign="middle"><td style="padding: 2px 1px 0px 5px;"><a href="http://www.thedailyshow.com/" style="color: #333333; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">The Daily Show With Jon Stewart</a></td><td style="font-weight: bold; padding: 2px 5px 0px; text-align: right;">Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c</td></tr>
<tr style="height: 14px;" valign="middle"><td colspan="2" style="padding: 2px 1px 0px 5px;"><a href="http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/wed-august-11-2010/deductible-me" style="color: #333333; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Deductible Me</a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=35411599&postID=8549905308776514967"></a></td></tr>
<tr style="background-color: #353535; height: 14px;" valign="middle"><td colspan="2" style="overflow: hidden; padding: 2px 5px 0px; text-align: right; width: 360px;"><a href="http://www.thedailyshow.com/" style="color: #96deff; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">www.thedailyshow.com</a></td></tr>
<tr valign="middle"><td colspan="2" style="padding: 0px;"><embed allowfullscreen="true" allownetworking="all" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#000000" flashvars="autoPlay=false" height="301" src="http://media.mtvnservices.com/mgid:cms:item:comedycentral.com:343669" style="display: block;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="360" wmode="window"></embed></td></tr>
<tr style="height: 18px;" valign="middle"><td colspan="2" style="padding: 0px;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" height="100%" style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr valign="middle"><td style="padding: 3px; width: 33%;"><a href="http://www.thedailyshow.com/full-episodes/" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Daily Show Full Episodes</a></td><td style="padding: 3px; width: 33%;"><a href="http://www.indecisionforever.com/" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Political Humor</a></td><td style="padding: 3px; width: 33%;"><a href="http://www.thedailyshow.com/videos/tag/Tea+Party" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Tea Party</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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I'll leave you with <b style="color: red;">THE THREE GREAT PREMISES OF IDIOT AMERICA</b>:<br />
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1] Any theory is valid if it sells books, soaks up ratings, or otherwise moves units.<br />
2] Fact is that which enough people believe. Truth is determined by how fervently they believe it.<br />
3] Anything can be true if someone says it loudly enough.<br />
<br />
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-13733003714044286952010-08-10T17:38:00.000-05:002010-08-10T17:38:37.974-05:00A Tribute to Jet Blue<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">... or at least to the <a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/news/national/2010/08/09/2010-08-09_talk_about_turbulance_jetblue_flight_attendant_drops_intercom_fbomb_bolts_down_e.html">angry Jet Blue flight attendant</a> who recently told the passengers to <i>"F*#@ off!"</i> before grabbing a couple cold beers and jumping down the inflatable slide to freedom (in this case, freedom = the waiting arms of law enforcement and a felony charge). The relevant material starts at the 3:50 mark of the following video. Enjoy! <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="525" width="660"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/G9em-ZCddWk&hl=en_US&fs=1?color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/G9em-ZCddWk&hl=en_US&fs=1?color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="660" height="525"></embed></object></div></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-48225642453621802892010-08-04T14:41:00.001-05:002010-08-04T17:21:28.726-05:00Funkadelic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyh8IIqO1wdZUkqNmM_BdTqxXwK-KLijsZk0OMVNRmyLkalX6MbFRcdoOvOgw-UCHKRadsQ9EiukLw1OwqbwpZR8FOl7JUhzj6Bo80V2B0KGT0S06192WWgkFhQmm13PyNIWsHCA/s1600/motivation2jh1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyh8IIqO1wdZUkqNmM_BdTqxXwK-KLijsZk0OMVNRmyLkalX6MbFRcdoOvOgw-UCHKRadsQ9EiukLw1OwqbwpZR8FOl7JUhzj6Bo80V2B0KGT0S06192WWgkFhQmm13PyNIWsHCA/s320/motivation2jh1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My four faithful bloggees have likely noticed I haven't been blogging lately. Well, at least I hope they've noticed. You see, I've been in a bit of a funk and not really up to writing. Maybe it's due to too much <i><b>Fox <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">&</span> Friends</b></i> in the morning? I'm sure that has something to do with it. It certainly can't be helping matters since it only takes about 10 minutes of watching its panel of asshattery to ruin my entire day. Or maybe it was seeing the show's musical guest last week was none other than Uncle Kracker. I mean, my brain is still trying to reconcile hearing him introduced as <i>"multi-platinum recording artist, Uncle Kracker."</i> Seriously? When did this country stop valuing talent from our celebrities? If they're going to become gazillionaires, shouldn't we demand they at least be talented? And don't get me started on that punk Justin Bieber. He sings about as good as Britney Spears - which is awful at best. Then again, at least <i style="color: red;"><b>Bieber Fever</b></i> has spawned one of my favorite new websites, <a href="http://lesbianswholooklikejustinbieber.tumblr.com/">Lesbians Who Look Like Justin Bieber</a>. Speaking of spawn, I had the unfortunate experience of catching a glimpse of Sarah Palin on TV this weekend (I'm going to guess I was watching <i><b>Fox</b></i> again). I will never forgive John McCain for unleashing this shrill plague on the country. Way to put <i>Country First</i>, Grampy! By the way, for a guy I voted for to beat Bush back in the 2000 primary - back when "Maverick" sorta meant something - you've certainly become quite the embarrassment yourself. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZ0_2U1C95hgwuHiOoBtppW3UANHj7HF5gzhTgiJYBifRA_KGd86XaBHyznN0nOxRQqKrNRnz4FgBqulEAApCOvnkprP3OIbIE4MCKc9u5ueOrEjrLa98Re-SbP6HVomuodJeCw/s1600/david.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZ0_2U1C95hgwuHiOoBtppW3UANHj7HF5gzhTgiJYBifRA_KGd86XaBHyznN0nOxRQqKrNRnz4FgBqulEAApCOvnkprP3OIbIE4MCKc9u5ueOrEjrLa98Re-SbP6HVomuodJeCw/s320/david.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">One bright spot last week was when I went to pick up Claire from preschool. As previously reported, she was learning about <i style="color: orange;"><b>Food Fun</b></i> at school, so each day the students would "visit" a country to learn about the local cuisine. The last time I posted on this blog, I told you about the <a href="http://stay-at-home-dog.blogspot.com/2010/07/what-world-eats.html">French galette Claire brought home for lunch one day</a>. Luckily my fear of her bringing home lengua was all for naught. And last Thursday, Claire and her classmates learned about Italy and made some homemade pasta in their classroom kitchen. When I went to pick her up from her classroom, Claire was very excited to report that <i>"Jeffrey ate the noodle mix!"</i> I guess he thought it would taste like cookie batter. I've been there myself, Jeffrey. In fact, to this day I'm still fooled by delicious-looking pancake batter. Later on, as Claire was climbing into her car seat, she told me <i>"Papa, we saw a statue in class, and it had a penis."</i> I'm hoping she was referring to <i><b>David</b></i>, the statue by Michelangelo located in Florence, Italy. I inquired where she saw the statue and confirmed there was a picture of it inside a book about Italian art. Then she went on to say, <i>"I told the children it looks like my Papa."</i><i> </i>I can only imagine she was referring to David's rock hard abs, and this might explain why Claire's teacher was giving me the once over and acting so coy.<i> </i>Then again, I get that from most ladies wherever I go, so I'm used to it. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Anyway, I guess it must be true when they say your child sees a hero when they look at you. Unfortunately, I'm thinking it's more likely that when Claire saw the picture of the statue of David and thought of me what she actually saw in her mind is this: </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisYyXN8Sz-txf_0YsfUV2IvHssZ-eikkbfmMJqCe5U4s5-vCn0HFRuyQDlvBaiuc1SR3vxvYyNxn8g63lBJzsfD620jIUbflszSVhXoid1pLDRSkn5GuQu6EHzAvmjeZXfld5kKw/s1600/david1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisYyXN8Sz-txf_0YsfUV2IvHssZ-eikkbfmMJqCe5U4s5-vCn0HFRuyQDlvBaiuc1SR3vxvYyNxn8g63lBJzsfD620jIUbflszSVhXoid1pLDRSkn5GuQu6EHzAvmjeZXfld5kKw/s640/david1.jpg" width="608" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-78260082489569070652010-07-27T11:29:00.000-05:002010-07-27T11:29:40.615-05:00what the world eats<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhmt3PvlfOIbTIjn39WkbInzGF_fzq0myGJdztg7Yap5Ssz1-aPMzqyVlbtKBGvFeYBIA2xC8sWwYDlH0bCSIWG5KJpWLrI78ciijggeEZEu6MHr2rWAFkkWF_G6GGtvDOmssVtw/s1600/galette.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhmt3PvlfOIbTIjn39WkbInzGF_fzq0myGJdztg7Yap5Ssz1-aPMzqyVlbtKBGvFeYBIA2xC8sWwYDlH0bCSIWG5KJpWLrI78ciijggeEZEu6MHr2rWAFkkWF_G6GGtvDOmssVtw/s200/galette.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Claire's back in preschool this week for another week-long program: <i style="color: orange;"><b>Food Fun</b></i>. A few weeks ago she learned about <b style="color: red;"><i>Crafts From Around the World</i></b> and brought home lots of handmade crafts and musical instruments, including the infamous Aboriginal didgeridoo... which has mysteriously disappeared. Well, yesterday Claire and her classmates apparently visited France and learned how to prepare an open-face tart called a galette. I fancy myself as an aficionado of sorts on tarts having dated more than a few prior to meeting my lovely wife, yet I was unfamiliar with the galette until yesterday. Claire brought home a <a href="http://familyfun.go.com/recipes/cherry-cranberry-galette-685203/"><i>Cherry-Cranberry Galette</i></a>, which she insisted on eating for lunch. However, about two bites in she announced,<i> "I don't like cherry... I want a pancake!" </i>Claire also learned about breakfast croissants and hors d'oeuvres but was not taught about the traditional culture of wine consumption prevalent in France. Then again, Claire has her (honorary) Aunts Susan and Michelle to teach her about "extreme value" wine from <a href="http://www.traderjoes.com/">Trader Joe's</a> (aka <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Shaw_wine"><i>Three Buck Chuck</i></a>). But by the time Claire is of age to have a glass of wine with the ladies, I'm sure it will be called <i>"Twenty Ameros Carlos"</i> wine. You see, that's what's going to happen after Mexico takes over the United States and the U.S. dollar is replaced by the <i>Amero </i>(conspiracy theorists - and TeaBaggers - can go <a href="http://www.amerocurrency.com/amero.html">here</a> to learn more).</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBrlym9ex0Vz3xzF1bVm-ZaT09gtRfjhuigTruwxry1ha2aD46yzQc1lAiX_UYmgtLI7LRWf6Nchjwy29Mf7mpTVI41SdrK7yX5yanjMAbD08N5AxSRwx1D2JrXLhCVbwE5-VHUg/s1600/lengua.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBrlym9ex0Vz3xzF1bVm-ZaT09gtRfjhuigTruwxry1ha2aD46yzQc1lAiX_UYmgtLI7LRWf6Nchjwy29Mf7mpTVI41SdrK7yX5yanjMAbD08N5AxSRwx1D2JrXLhCVbwE5-VHUg/s200/lengua.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I'm not sure where Claire's food journey will take her this week, but I'm hoping she brings home some tacos, burritos or enchiladas! However, since Claire's preschool likes to focus on tradition when teaching about other countries or cultures, I'm concerned the school might send her home with lengua - beef tongue often found in tacos and burritos. We have a little Mexican deli near our home - inside the <b>Gas Depot</b> at the junction of Highway 41 and Pioneer Trail - that serves some pretty awesome burritos and other Mexican fare. And when Claire's (honorary) Uncle Matthew visits from Fargo, we have to go there so he can get his fill of lengua while I sit across the table from him trying to keep from throwing up on myself. I'll just leave you with that image and bid you a <i>Bonne journee</i>!</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN2LNn-VS-3COBOBsW5s41wWpNRCW2FPQBJoEk0rjfPrwpox1tNckS9tPl92ZOI3Rzvdk2j7zXOmKwT9LzWNzwEBegUlDih4OACOtlQTuLcAL0gHFz4mTWP6XLyXVMygj8JoHqag/s1600/45+months-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="714" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN2LNn-VS-3COBOBsW5s41wWpNRCW2FPQBJoEk0rjfPrwpox1tNckS9tPl92ZOI3Rzvdk2j7zXOmKwT9LzWNzwEBegUlDih4OACOtlQTuLcAL0gHFz4mTWP6XLyXVMygj8JoHqag/s640/45+months-1.jpg" width="500" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDLs8X_mPDU-2QPy1smjq2vKoTLJtDua6Gox5jIrb1zFBhYZ3_rseNulHT4DF6UL5rhzPFXPXpV7l37hqnUfWcGlgujKltnB0TMtZnoKob8X0HqNTqwpQ88ETmE629DHGYuVg7vw/s1600/45+months-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="714" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDLs8X_mPDU-2QPy1smjq2vKoTLJtDua6Gox5jIrb1zFBhYZ3_rseNulHT4DF6UL5rhzPFXPXpV7l37hqnUfWcGlgujKltnB0TMtZnoKob8X0HqNTqwpQ88ETmE629DHGYuVg7vw/s640/45+months-2.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjllf641_hK51zVp3oRqRlcuKFjcnH0f5TG9iE3-pa93UZorUAfXhtlBXGtT6ICbbLGWKJgjoz52nugnOk4op5pqUZCQrr83lUJ7RBEDWqYt2gWbAFPLISAIX5rXP7OJn-9Bscmjg/s1600/45+months-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="714" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjllf641_hK51zVp3oRqRlcuKFjcnH0f5TG9iE3-pa93UZorUAfXhtlBXGtT6ICbbLGWKJgjoz52nugnOk4op5pqUZCQrr83lUJ7RBEDWqYt2gWbAFPLISAIX5rXP7OJn-9Bscmjg/s640/45+months-3.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-43414805194995232282010-07-23T14:16:00.002-05:002010-07-23T14:25:27.615-05:00Animal House<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhznF24JamBQwSxh_03p48EIrbTrj6ejjGCKdtvf3iKA7ZakPMRGrZ9YWyYanw5f6pd9E8XIUiEhJYACqpFIvoi3qP0lU2GFJoRKu2V-ofgacaX3yHC4YDh6lF1VKDzBE1pHTMCQQ/s1600/Belushi_in_Animal_House.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhznF24JamBQwSxh_03p48EIrbTrj6ejjGCKdtvf3iKA7ZakPMRGrZ9YWyYanw5f6pd9E8XIUiEhJYACqpFIvoi3qP0lU2GFJoRKu2V-ofgacaX3yHC4YDh6lF1VKDzBE1pHTMCQQ/s320/Belushi_in_Animal_House.jpg" width="217" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">A great man once said, <i>"Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, son."</i> The man was Dean Vernon Wormer of Faber College, and the words are from the 1978 classic, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0077975/"><b>Animal House</b></a>. They're words to live by, and I try my best to follow his advice. I've got the drunk and stupid part down pat, but I've let my weight climb a bit in recent years. I joined Weight Watchers in January, but I eventually grew tired of going to bed starving every night, so I quit. And I try going to the community center gym, but all the 75+ yr old men insist on walking around the locker room naked with their towel slung over their shoulder instead of wrapped around their waste. It's gross! If I want to see hanging meat, I'll go to a butcher shop.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In other news, Claire's Auntie Karen sent me a funny email earlier this week. She was forwarding an email she got from Grandma Thullner's cousin Ed. The subject of the email is <i>Why having a toddler is like being at a frat party</i>. Not only is it funny, but it's eerily accurate. Of course, I had to add my own commentary, because that's how I roll. </span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="color: red; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">WHY HAVING A TODDLER IS LIKE BEING AT A FRAT PARTY</span></span></b></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: red;">10. There are half-full, brightly-colored plastic cups on the floor in every room. Three are in the bathtub </span>(along with my souvenir plastic beer cup from the <i style="color: #274e13;">2002 PGA Championship</i> held at Chaska's <i style="color: #274e13;">Hazeltine National Golf Club</i>).</span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: red;">9. There's always that one girl, bawling her eyes out in a corner.</span> And sometimes <i>that one girl</i> looks a lot like a 6'2" 200 pound 40+ yr old man with crooked teeth and blotchy skin. Seriously. I had a beer guzzling contest with <i>that girl</i> in college at a Lambda Chi Alpha frat party... and I lost. </span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: red;">8. It's best not to assume that the person closest to you has any control over their digestive function.</span> Farting at the dinner table is Claire's favorite past time.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: red;">7. You sneak off to the bathroom knowing that as soon as you sit down, someone's going to start banging on the door.</span> Or Claire will just walk right in while asking, <i>"Papa, what are you doing?"</i> I decided to stop locking the door in order to avoid the annoying banging. So the first time Claire walked in and saw me, she decided she wanted to learn how to pee standing up... which brings us to #6 below. </span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiINJuD2RiFZzB-yPW6koH6MEvlIYtpbHjLyk69Hwcs8jEuUYZnd10j24b5lbp1LQ0bK4Vcy_HNmrkYRNYLE-gqwt5jynYbSWILlP2k_KlSQ9wXN6epo_muVGdeGqM7-yw-bz6jig/s1600/long+day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiINJuD2RiFZzB-yPW6koH6MEvlIYtpbHjLyk69Hwcs8jEuUYZnd10j24b5lbp1LQ0bK4Vcy_HNmrkYRNYLE-gqwt5jynYbSWILlP2k_KlSQ9wXN6epo_muVGdeGqM7-yw-bz6jig/s320/long+day.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: red;">6. Probably 80 percent of the stains on the furniture contain DNA.</span> And when you add our carpeting into the mix, the percentage shoots up to 100 percent because of Bogey's doggie DNA. Although there is one spot near the sofa where it's all Claire after she decided to try peeing standing up.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: red;">5. You've got someone in your face at 3:00 AM looking for a drink...</span> or to warn you that you're about to make a BIG mistake. The latter was the case at our house late Monday night. Linda was to fly out of town Tuesday for a short business trip, so she and Claire retired upstairs early to pack an overnight bag. As is usually the case, the two fell asleep on the bed before doing any actual packing. Before I climbed into bed, I transported Claire to her own bedroom. Then, at precisely 3:14AM, I was awakened by the words, <i>"You forgot to pack your bag!"</i> I rolled over, and there was Claire on the other side of the bed - her face inches from Linda's face - whispering quite loudly, <i>"You forgot to pack your bag!"</i> I just grabbed Claire and brought her into bed while Linda continued to sleep. And like a good frat party-goer, Linda has no recollection of this event whatsoever.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: red;">4. There's definitely going to be a fight.</span> Fortunately, there's less fighting now that we've all agreed that Claire gets to be first... first up the stairs, first down the stairs, first out the door, etc. We just got tired of Claire kicking our asses, so she gets to win for a little while longer.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: red;">3. You're not sure whether anything you're doing is right, you just hope it won't get you arrested.</span> And having discussed the difficulties of raising a toddler with friends who have a toddler(s) of their own, we're comforted by the knowledge that if we get thrown into jail at least we'll know a few other parents with whom we can share a cell block.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: red;">2. There are crumpled-up underpants everywhere.</span> Literally... and not just mine.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: red;">1. You wake up wondering exactly how and when the person in bed with you got there. </span>And when you feel a couple toddler size 8's digging into your spine until pain eventually shoots down the back of your leg leaving your foot numb, you'll know it's Claire.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">So welcome to a glimpse inside our little Animal House. <i>Grab a brew. Don't cost nothin'.</i></span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-67907419994167974752010-07-21T16:19:00.002-05:002010-07-21T18:54:07.657-05:00The Day of Reckoning is Upon Us... well, upon me anyway<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB2eXlEpgLD92C-8m6ta8jak_3y9nrIRI5_hCw4VEpO5vgnoicnj6dSX17qmQeYscizjnztjB9_A6C1yysSiT4RM7mEMHsdMNrD6HXbjNWLLBtvZ-fr3nTjbFOuMcPOM_VzftYsw/s1600/Judgement-Day-4351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB2eXlEpgLD92C-8m6ta8jak_3y9nrIRI5_hCw4VEpO5vgnoicnj6dSX17qmQeYscizjnztjB9_A6C1yysSiT4RM7mEMHsdMNrD6HXbjNWLLBtvZ-fr3nTjbFOuMcPOM_VzftYsw/s200/Judgement-Day-4351.jpg" width="130" /></a></div>Don't worry... I don't plan to utilize the wealth of biblical knowledge I accumulated during my early years as a <i>back pew sliding</i> Southern Baptist and go all fire and brimstone on your asses (although I will if/when I feel you need a good scare). Fortunately for you, today is not the day I plan to freak you out with apocalyptic biblical tales of the final condemnation of the unrighteous dead at the end of all time. So despite the title of this post, it does not refer to the final and eternal judgment by God of all nations that will take place after the resurrection of the dead... thereby making them undead? Hell, if I knew there were zombies in the Bible, I would have paid closer attention during Sunday school classes and Vacation Bible School, but I digress. The title of this post, instead, refers to a <i>day of reckoning</i>: <i>a time when the effects of one's past mistakes or misdeeds catch up with one</i>. Lucky for me, I'm still outpacing most of my past misdeeds, and I don't foresee them catching up with me. Then again, I'm sure to catch hell from one or more family members for using the blasphemous photo above. But that's the least of my worries...</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksNO0vfDF-ebgI1CGVg9eNEb9-WuBYD5G99-Ub7Cr4plG5MyrPXuWXgEM_TvJd1Ba5o4nMVcT_uGwEiJbRuw-90d6dcDtBUaxuvTYhOiwWXnFncXCqjy9j3DivVnofptRt4IWHg/s1600/asshole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksNO0vfDF-ebgI1CGVg9eNEb9-WuBYD5G99-Ub7Cr4plG5MyrPXuWXgEM_TvJd1Ba5o4nMVcT_uGwEiJbRuw-90d6dcDtBUaxuvTYhOiwWXnFncXCqjy9j3DivVnofptRt4IWHg/s200/asshole.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I've been avoiding writing this post all week. As usual, my mouth overshot my lawn game abilities, and today is my day of atonement to all those whose ass I promised to kick on the Karl Family acreage. Allow me to explain... If you read my last blog entry, then you know we were in Northern Minnesota this past weekend for the annual </span><b style="color: orange; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Karl Invitational</b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">. It's a yearly (friendly?) competition amongst friends to see who the best ladder golf, croquet and badminton players are. And despite my liabilities - and those who know me best know there are many - I still have a high tendency to bloviate about my awesomeness at useless, trivial <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzXAdDRA7vRzZKoeBSlT3UqA3KUqAWGE4UbtmQhk8a2s0PE_PeQuptIdD3k024NpEuOLXdME2N937mlobRZb033-c-tlASFhFbHP-KbAdTTdMBiKhIsyClLZ0bARhg1Szt-2LHEQ/s1600/Lawn+Golf+-+Awards+Presentation%282%29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzXAdDRA7vRzZKoeBSlT3UqA3KUqAWGE4UbtmQhk8a2s0PE_PeQuptIdD3k024NpEuOLXdME2N937mlobRZb033-c-tlASFhFbHP-KbAdTTdMBiKhIsyClLZ0bARhg1Szt-2LHEQ/s200/Lawn+Golf+-+Awards+Presentation%282%29.jpg" width="143" /></a>things - such as the aforementioned lawn games. But that's just me. I can't change who I am. It's all part of my manly essence. My hubris for declaring my aptitude for such things as ladder golf, croquet, badminton, _________________ [insert the name of any backyard game that requires one to hold a beer in one's hand at all times] is legendary. For example, ever since I won the coveted set of </span><i style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Golden Balls </b></i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">(complete with faux leather nutsack)</span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> for winning the first ever ladder golf competition some five years ago, I've drowned on ad nauseam about my prowess on the ladder golf field of battle (aka John </span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">&</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Diana Karl's backyard). Yet I failed to defend my title the following year, plus every attempt to regain the championship has proven disastrous. I was defeated in the </span><i style="color: red; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>2009 Karl <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk3Ewl8D-domBwclE2NEILpc_BmEtasQ8vZc-gOfmncm8AcrrV1ynKzH_2lOisSyVNDmgJxQ3-KyHnNzT7xn57VgXDQRG52qE3xCK1J8pJ0LMQ1D19bUL7_Oz9MHdW_oOw9nUNiQ/s1600/stewie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk3Ewl8D-domBwclE2NEILpc_BmEtasQ8vZc-gOfmncm8AcrrV1ynKzH_2lOisSyVNDmgJxQ3-KyHnNzT7xn57VgXDQRG52qE3xCK1J8pJ0LMQ1D19bUL7_Oz9MHdW_oOw9nUNiQ/s200/stewie.jpg" width="200" /></a>Invitational Ladder Golf Finals</b></i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> by an eight year old girl - AN EIGHT YEAR OLD GIRL! </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And this year I went down in a blaze of whatever the opposite of "glory" is - shame, dishonor, ugliness - when I was knocked out of the tournament in the first round by a rookie player. At least she CLAIMS to have only played ladder golf one other time in her entire life, but I'm calling bullpucky after watching her handle those (ladder golf) balls with the precision and expertise of a professional. Anyway, so much for the trophy case I built in the garage last week... that is until 2011 when - to quote another famous Stewie - </span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">victory shall be mine!</i><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Anyway, I hope you'll forgive me if I leave out the gritty details of the croquet and badminton tournaments. You see, I'm trying to forget about them myself. I will just say this - just like last year, I once again had a fabulously talented badminton partner in Darcy Karl, yet still somehow managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. We placed second. But I was so certain my team would win the tournament this year that I brought flashy (see also <i>trashy</i>) team jerseys - Darcy even wore her jersey, thereby proving her own awesomeness for putting up with my weirdness.<br />
<br />
They say <i>a picture's worth a thousand words</i>, but I'm still gonna provide some captions for the following photos from the <b style="color: orange;">2010 Karl Invitational</b>... but feel free to fill in the blanks.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><b style="color: red;">Someone didn't want me to win since my mallet was obviously sabotaged. But how does that explain my double-chin?</b></i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiccb8KedKxRkVE-_Xzk8e6DoKS4sO5dvsdjDknU4i2O6zaN3Nr2ZarWsaj36Y_Wxg7fQlAZ_nl2HEphTRMrDci-Tyv70EvbsXJJI-Iw7oebn_wecmQbndE-51OaHAY7tNy9FdDcA/s1600/Stewie+croquet.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiccb8KedKxRkVE-_Xzk8e6DoKS4sO5dvsdjDknU4i2O6zaN3Nr2ZarWsaj36Y_Wxg7fQlAZ_nl2HEphTRMrDci-Tyv70EvbsXJJI-Iw7oebn_wecmQbndE-51OaHAY7tNy9FdDcA/s640/Stewie+croquet.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div style="color: red;"><i><b>Folding chair with armrest cupholders.... $15</b></i></div><div style="color: red;"><i><b>8ft Deluxe Adjustable Beach Umbrella.... $50</b></i></div><div style="color: red;"><i><b>Comfortable walking sandals............... $65</b></i></div><i><b style="color: red;">Still smiling despite not winning a single medal because you've just finished a full glass of tequila... PRICELESS!</b></i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcUigkMJSUhBgN9kbPOcRSjGuE6ed2Ksg7FB9P-4gZ90Svo81W7NQfk_iAzpl0k7KLHjHel1mhm7jRyktWZOAUlJusa8URiR5aPsRqib3TDteS-RiBikRrlKQW8b-QRRRDmwBkiw/s1600/Veronica+chillin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcUigkMJSUhBgN9kbPOcRSjGuE6ed2Ksg7FB9P-4gZ90Svo81W7NQfk_iAzpl0k7KLHjHel1mhm7jRyktWZOAUlJusa8URiR5aPsRqib3TDteS-RiBikRrlKQW8b-QRRRDmwBkiw/s640/Veronica+chillin.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
<i style="color: red;"><b>This photo speaks for itself...</b></i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibd0mqcmYYxUwCA9exzNHBf8lN36Yc-ZXJ8FgcucKcOHGRKF9NJLbCO1iwzSgwXyUR_X_W1NxLvJgTQ6Hma6NA5qKkVRzBQ9fMoqsB-mHThrNA0o2JmkY7aV7YIsbgHqH3eHhREQ/s1600/John+Karl+-+badminton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibd0mqcmYYxUwCA9exzNHBf8lN36Yc-ZXJ8FgcucKcOHGRKF9NJLbCO1iwzSgwXyUR_X_W1NxLvJgTQ6Hma6NA5qKkVRzBQ9fMoqsB-mHThrNA0o2JmkY7aV7YIsbgHqH3eHhREQ/s640/John+Karl+-+badminton.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<i style="color: red;"><b>Her great form helped make Susan the best server of the badminton tournament...</b></i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuKCKRoAIvLDMFv5CVXu2Bd0INEdhNm2KKCYhEED4EN6tdNsiNJ7gh07RcmqajL6guES0N77vs-dyQQ7wbnp8QAOttutaOHRj0krTkv7LVAGVBNMiMZGyUt8eIGwBTexMG-NTL3w/s1600/Susan+service+ace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuKCKRoAIvLDMFv5CVXu2Bd0INEdhNm2KKCYhEED4EN6tdNsiNJ7gh07RcmqajL6guES0N77vs-dyQQ7wbnp8QAOttutaOHRj0krTkv7LVAGVBNMiMZGyUt8eIGwBTexMG-NTL3w/s640/Susan+service+ace.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i style="color: red;"><b>As for Kermit, not so much... although he did win the Twinkle Toes Award!</b></i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-7cgYtvjEJ29mDHNxquC4G840xuHY4n77ZmWwkZNgu8AuN9-lOvwMIOyPLqnjETAyleaXXm79lC7Kh0gCeg9ELruhvh-AUhKxDi1znenM-P_Hu4e91ZXWBIZrztmN3EiF4msLzg/s1600/Kermit+badminton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-7cgYtvjEJ29mDHNxquC4G840xuHY4n77ZmWwkZNgu8AuN9-lOvwMIOyPLqnjETAyleaXXm79lC7Kh0gCeg9ELruhvh-AUhKxDi1znenM-P_Hu4e91ZXWBIZrztmN3EiF4msLzg/s640/Kermit+badminton.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<i style="color: red;"><b>How does this team NOT win the badminton tournament?</b></i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZCrDd-X-_2TKKgVcQbzYCsGV0bgFKSxzvnXVB00GFh1p5DnNY9Oxall7A0bcp6XZUPkljroFHDRb5_pyL_T2qzVt33m-cKfhgAyOZ1viAfUHHL0u3dohBNNZ-u0gg1sxG8Qy1OA/s1600/Bad-Ass+Badminton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZCrDd-X-_2TKKgVcQbzYCsGV0bgFKSxzvnXVB00GFh1p5DnNY9Oxall7A0bcp6XZUPkljroFHDRb5_pyL_T2qzVt33m-cKfhgAyOZ1viAfUHHL0u3dohBNNZ-u0gg1sxG8Qy1OA/s640/Bad-Ass+Badminton.jpg" width="576" /></a></div><div style="color: red;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><b><i><span style="color: red;">Maybe because this guy wouldn't stay on his side of the court and kept getting in the way of his partner!</span></i></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQ97WSe4ehEQXmYS4KcfiWswUEPqxC1dR1xh2LGuObGA6CyeiyIjQi-5GNhS11eoGPsr-RAo-ntn1F_ojVcFpPXZrmFuXmE1rqw8F2W0virWsXGWjxh5W2lI6I6jOx9pXVQc3PA/s1600/Bad-Ass+Badminton-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQ97WSe4ehEQXmYS4KcfiWswUEPqxC1dR1xh2LGuObGA6CyeiyIjQi-5GNhS11eoGPsr-RAo-ntn1F_ojVcFpPXZrmFuXmE1rqw8F2W0virWsXGWjxh5W2lI6I6jOx9pXVQc3PA/s640/Bad-Ass+Badminton-2.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><b><i><span style="color: red;"> </span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">MMMMMMMMM... smores!</span></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NYGhQHcsC6pdvN5cBfMTTvltmcwLNAwxTOPa6YNnRYQ_J76PDnIKz-96GqJhVXnCxUqwXcZqedfyjbsGSRuq9D6NYOm_A0JhgceNzLL8ripNlRTaTaJbFmhkbuLqyfaXxso1iw/s1600/smores-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NYGhQHcsC6pdvN5cBfMTTvltmcwLNAwxTOPa6YNnRYQ_J76PDnIKz-96GqJhVXnCxUqwXcZqedfyjbsGSRuq9D6NYOm_A0JhgceNzLL8ripNlRTaTaJbFmhkbuLqyfaXxso1iw/s640/smores-2.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Thank You to the entire Karl Family for yet another wonderous weekend in Waubun!</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-44044748029840270012010-07-16T00:42:00.000-05:002010-07-16T00:42:27.189-05:00The Greatest Show On Earth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-zCRqTTfi7q5acyPH-A7iY1lyXiLfh8z7PEBbV0V4-HwzwEcSsJw76rlv_BpkN0kp0VojzFJ3PbhAN0D2mE2LpxyMM0l8d_d-QTqbNyPdNlXEMUiSP4SFuCjtTQRxXeFFzvNjNw/s1600/4th+Annual+Croquet+Championship.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-zCRqTTfi7q5acyPH-A7iY1lyXiLfh8z7PEBbV0V4-HwzwEcSsJw76rlv_BpkN0kp0VojzFJ3PbhAN0D2mE2LpxyMM0l8d_d-QTqbNyPdNlXEMUiSP4SFuCjtTQRxXeFFzvNjNw/s640/4th+Annual+Croquet+Championship.jpg" width="419" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Well, it's that time of the year again. Time for the <i>greatest show on earth</i>, when we head out for the tiny Northern Minnesota town of Waubun, where the nation's premier backyard game competition is held each year. The circus-like event is known as <i style="color: orange;"><b>The Karl Invitational</b></i>, mainly because it's a gathering of a bunch of clowns held at the home of two of the nicest ringmasters you'll ever meet - John and Diana Karl. The event kicks off Friday evening with ladder golf (aka Polish golf). I won this event back in the mid-2000's, so I've experienced the sweet taste of victory. I can tell you victory tastes good, and I'm ready for a second helping this year. It's been too long. Saturday consists of mixed doubles badminton, which typically involves a lot of inappropriate remarks from the guys about <i>"launching my shuttlecock"</i> or something equally juvenile. Incidentally, in case you are unaware, a <i>shuttlecock </i>is the high-drag projectile used in the game of badminton, and it's sometimes called a <i>birdie</i>... except at <b style="color: orange;"><i>The Karl Invitational</i></b>, where it is ALWAYS called a <i>shuttlecock</i>. If time permits, there could be some sort of disc golf skills competition. But the event culminates Saturday evening on the croquet court, with the first croquet match starting about an hour or two AFTER Kermit has already started making his infamous margaritas. I've managed to make it to the final heat for as long as I can remember - which ain't long considering the amount of margaritas consumed - but I've never come close to winning this event. Either John Karl or Matthew Myrold is crowned <i>Croquet Grand Champion</i>. In fact, I think the two take turns winning back-to-back titles... which sorta takes all the fun out of it for the rest of us. In addition to a gold medallion, the Grand Champion gets his/her very own custom t-shirt designed by Peter Karl. The photo above shows John's <i>2007 Grand Champion</i> t-shirt. Diana is clutching his thigh while a dejected Matthew (wearing the Trojan helmet) looks up at a mighty John. Isn't this a sweet design? That's why I want my own t-shirt pretty bad.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH-oOtdcXvarIQh98WaShNRYI7VVQX5dL0LaZ_Y65060OeuhGz5sULqoaERkS4duoAzMgDlkPLUdBMzYONWccOj3GrHEVx8XOguzEw8zzuvTWJcGVEAE0vlUOXheZ5XZJ2h-8PIQ/s1600/2008+082.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH-oOtdcXvarIQh98WaShNRYI7VVQX5dL0LaZ_Y65060OeuhGz5sULqoaERkS4duoAzMgDlkPLUdBMzYONWccOj3GrHEVx8XOguzEw8zzuvTWJcGVEAE0vlUOXheZ5XZJ2h-8PIQ/s320/2008+082.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Last year I placed a respectable 2nd at ladder golf, and 3rd in badminton with my friend - and one of my four faithful blog readers - Susan. I can still see the fear in Susan's eyes as she watched me fly around the court swatting at any shuttlecock within reach. She just tried to stay out of my way, and I'm surprised I never knocked her over. Or did I? Anyway, it's been a while since I won an event, but that hasn't stopped me from talking trash year after year after year. Apparently, talking trash is the only thing I'm good at these days. Oh, and watching TV. I'm pretty good at watching TV, too.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We'll be leaving here in about 10 hours. I haven't been blogging the last couple days because I've been out in the garage building a brand new trophy case for all the awards I plan to bring home this year. Plus, I'm making sure to leave enough room for future awards since I know there will be plenty more to come once I get in my groove... or as soon as Peter Karl starts giving out awards for the whitest legs or best one-handed croquet shooter. If that ever happens, I like my chances.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-6988339253968405982010-07-14T18:32:00.000-05:002010-07-14T18:32:49.323-05:00Where the Wild Things Are Like Far Out, Dude<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Now that I've drank more than a liter of Coca-Cola, and the frozen pizza is in the oven, I'm a bit more calm... and finally able to post a photo of Claire wearing her new <i style="color: orange;"><b>Como Zoo</b></i> t-shirt. She picked it out - not me. I swear, Dudes...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvR_cAxgK6b49OArCfwOAwPhZMy1kw4x9N1HGjFzkAZItBN2sSsEednOqwh7ujF0mj_CDWCh3CK4v5hIOdQdTFXDaackYd7DCRgrRaWLYM0TBlCl-KJM4pGm_PtkwwtmZT9dVn6g/s1600/44+months-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="814" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvR_cAxgK6b49OArCfwOAwPhZMy1kw4x9N1HGjFzkAZItBN2sSsEednOqwh7ujF0mj_CDWCh3CK4v5hIOdQdTFXDaackYd7DCRgrRaWLYM0TBlCl-KJM4pGm_PtkwwtmZT9dVn6g/s640/44+months-12.jpg" width="600" /></a></div></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-54568054536079576912010-07-14T17:34:00.001-05:002010-07-14T17:39:13.411-05:00Life in the Fast Lane<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Claire and I visited the City of St. Paul's very own Como Zoo today. We were joined on our excursion by Claire's friend, Addison, and Addison's grandma. Aside from today being the hottest day I've ever experienced while on this planet, it was a good time. Luckily, it rained off and on... so not only was it scorching hot, but the humidity was incredible. You could have fried an egg on my butt. Unfortunately, zoo personnel wouldn't allow me to set up my own egg frying booth without a permit, but I'll come prepared next time. Note to self: Call St. Paul City Hall about a peddler's permit.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Then to top off a great day, Claire and I stopped by <i><b>Rainbow Foods</b></i> on the way home to pick up some frozen pizza and Coca-Cola (because, damnit, I deserve it). But Claire was so exhausted she nearly fell asleep in the grocery cart. Since we had so few items, and <b><i>Rainbow </i></b>recently installed four <i>Self Checkout</i> aisles, I figured I'd get out of there before Claire actually collapsed in the cart. I mean, aren't self-serve checkout lanes one of the greatest inventions of the last 10-15 years? Seriously. What a great way to expedite the shopping experience. I get to avoid the inevitable situation of a cashier asking Claire, <i>"Are you helping your daddy shop today?"</i> Or at our particular <i><b>Rainbow Foods</b></i>, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-H1enGzel9v9DimVJpnEi6jcWP_lAgbTf7Drz-B8zY5sjU8Du7DUkUn-BiFJiO-AUTxbl0XN2QtlEYlggO_FzmJtmwzF3Ori8zH_GQvGwFYyUmE9edyMciNUzeY1p3EOKk4aX0w/s1600/Life+is+Crap+Grocery+Store+2.jpg.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-H1enGzel9v9DimVJpnEi6jcWP_lAgbTf7Drz-B8zY5sjU8Du7DUkUn-BiFJiO-AUTxbl0XN2QtlEYlggO_FzmJtmwzF3Ori8zH_GQvGwFYyUmE9edyMciNUzeY1p3EOKk4aX0w/s320/Life+is+Crap+Grocery+Store+2.jpg.png" /></a>there's <b>ALWAYS</b> the same husky stock boy in my checkout aisle who thinks it's funny to act like he's placing one of my 2-liter bottles of Coke into his apron pocket while he bags my groceries. <i>"Yea that's hilarious, Lumpy. Just like it was the 24 other times you've done it before... now can you put the Coke in a bag so I can go home?"</i> And I've yet to go through a manned checkout aisle where the person in front of me didn't try to correct the cashier, such as <i>"Excuse me, but I think these cans of peas are on sale for 75 cents, and your machine charged me 79 cents each."</i> And don't even get me started on check writers. If you don't have blue hair, then why the hell are you writing a check? Seriously! Anyway, where was I? Oh, yea... the self checkout aisle.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>So we arrived at the self serve lanes, where I found three scanning stations occupied by "normal" people. I can't say with 100 percent certainty they were normal, but each person appeared to grasp the purpose behind the self check-out lane concept - to expedite the shopping experience <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkrEK3OEmwB5Q0kA4weA7_W7e-7mtjiji2o2CxaiPRH5eZnKrezhEyNCh4lBEfNgD6daLc0i9WUDja0qnu1G3pBsDsw-MsL0IghGnKqnAW45cG-RRk0Iw961Ml9z7Ii9Q5vDtaIQ/s1600/morans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkrEK3OEmwB5Q0kA4weA7_W7e-7mtjiji2o2CxaiPRH5eZnKrezhEyNCh4lBEfNgD6daLc0i9WUDja0qnu1G3pBsDsw-MsL0IghGnKqnAW45cG-RRk0Iw961Ml9z7Ii9Q5vDtaIQ/s320/morans.jpg" /></a>for people with just a few items who don't want to stand in line for 20 minutes, thereby freeing up the manned lanes for people with full carts, a fear of electronic commerce, or both. I was waiting patiently for about five seconds until I noticed the fourth self checkout lane was occupied by a couple of people who are apparently of subnormal intelligence because they had a cart FULL of groceries. Now to their defense, I'll say our <i><b>Rainbow Foods </b></i>self checkout lanes don't actually specify a maximum number of allowable items required to use the lanes; however, the self checkout lanes are directly adjacent to the <i>15 Items or Less</i> lane. Therefore, one of average intelligence would logically conclude that if having a cart overflowing with groceries negates your ability to utilize the <i>15 Items or Less</i> lane, then it's probably really frickin' stupid to use the self checkout lane. That's why I concluded the couple using the self checkout lane were likely of subnormal intelligence. I fully expected to see something like <i style="color: #274e13;">"Get a brain, morans!"</i> or <i style="color: blue;">"I want my country back</i><span style="color: blue;">"</span> or <i style="color: red;">"Palin 2012</i><span style="color: red;">"</span> written on the front of their t-shirts. Instead, each was wearing an <i style="color: #4c1130;">"I'm with stupid"</i> shirt. Of course... I should have guessed!</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Anyway, I was going to post a few pictures of Claire monkeying around at the zoo, but I'm too tired and pissed off to do so. Instead, I leave you with some Demetri Martin comedy that is definitely not for <i>morans</i>...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="525" width="873"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QoCRmfJP9kU&hl=en_US&fs=1?color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QoCRmfJP9kU&hl=en_US&fs=1?color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="873" height="525"></embed></object></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-65600629098723156862010-07-09T16:47:00.001-05:002010-07-09T16:49:58.887-05:00Last Stop: Asia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7h49RUhogwIfzkUBXOj0ACY16jIVjANg6EZ6R1ghhA8BjBA82vLPzQPEKJMeKQmM1Z45lUikcU_KU-ymVG3dl7XWT8rQulfF5wK2SPVw-2iEH0W4bUNxj_-Vp7yUqaONaKsobuA/s1600/Worry_dolls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7h49RUhogwIfzkUBXOj0ACY16jIVjANg6EZ6R1ghhA8BjBA82vLPzQPEKJMeKQmM1Z45lUikcU_KU-ymVG3dl7XWT8rQulfF5wK2SPVw-2iEH0W4bUNxj_-Vp7yUqaONaKsobuA/s320/Worry_dolls.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Before I tell you about Claire's visit to Asia today, I have a little update on yesterday's post. Specifically, I've been informed that I misinformed you about what I referred to as a "prayer doll". After several unsuccessful attempts to <i>Google </i>the real meaning of the prayer doll, I decided to ask Claire one more time, <i>"What do you call this thing?"</i> She replied either <i>"prayer doll"</i> or <i>"prairie doll"</i>. Regardless, I couldn't find anything on the interwebs to confirm what she was telling me. So, this morning, I asked her teacher the same question. That's when I learned the doll Claire made is actually a Guatemalan <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Worry_doll"><i>worry doll</i></a> (a handful of worry dolls is shown at right). Furthermore, the doll's purpose is not to ward off evil spirits - or bat-shit crazy half-governors of Alaska. Instead, the doll - when placed beneath one's pillow before bedtime - has the powers to take away all your worries of the day so you awake refreshed and ready to tackle whatever the next day brings. After learning this new information from the teacher, I spent my day creating my own army of worry dolls since it's in my DNA to spend 24 hours a day worrying about sh!t (usually about what other people think about me). Gosh, I hope I didn't offend anyone by saying that!</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4NcYTLPKjCq4qXWSoIjvpwvcqx2Q8J5PMIJh6FrEsTbljY2NVFtR6MtUo0QbUeKYlLV6KtqKJTHE93XqvnpiYnMkmSoLYXli5KyHLyw0CAdKMxO3jcrH0X39rPr3nyp7uUd9Paw/s1600/Asia1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4NcYTLPKjCq4qXWSoIjvpwvcqx2Q8J5PMIJh6FrEsTbljY2NVFtR6MtUo0QbUeKYlLV6KtqKJTHE93XqvnpiYnMkmSoLYXli5KyHLyw0CAdKMxO3jcrH0X39rPr3nyp7uUd9Paw/s200/Asia1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So today, Claire and her classmates were in Asia - South Asia and India to be precise - for the final stop on their <b style="color: orange;"><i>Crafts of the World Tour</i></b>. Fortunately (for me), the traditional musical instruments of South Asia are not craft worthy. Therefore, instead of an annoying instrument, Claire brought home an elephant head. But not a real one! No, it's just an elephant head she made out of a paper bag and construction paper. According to Claire, people keep elephants as pets in India, and their pooper-scoopers are really big. But the piece of art Claire's most proud of is the bejeweled clay bowl she made. Technically, it's not exactly bejeweled since Claire just placed the jewels in the bowl instead of embedding them in the clay. Regardless, she's very proud of it and is currently upset that it's sitting on the fireplace mantel until it's fully cured. I give her one day before she either loses or breaks the bowl. We'll see...</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Here's Claire with her passport and her crafts of India. Have a great weekend! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvAtZ_tKlKMg8QKaDcMGWzjHooIB_n-OBXxF7FFMPgqh9iQIrHC1jwMppbUzG4XTu2N4GDzt-JRzD8iInJk5huRhh2wX71yCv6ZLiQQnBQo4TtYq0NXohWLrnEMVwxYR9WH2lkzQ/s1600/44+months-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvAtZ_tKlKMg8QKaDcMGWzjHooIB_n-OBXxF7FFMPgqh9iQIrHC1jwMppbUzG4XTu2N4GDzt-JRzD8iInJk5huRhh2wX71yCv6ZLiQQnBQo4TtYq0NXohWLrnEMVwxYR9WH2lkzQ/s640/44+months-11.jpg" width="426" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImPnnSvpPGEd55ZrpWmMf9a4BLSOCybiP8fP3GgwXJVBgbUhQsQtPAaiq7hg7ky-m1dZBNIij0Cc2DSbiKVC3F6s5QA9bCeQM-KwEfvmOTAEwr_ZALVBFxUcIwaQkhXLS_uS24w/s1600/44+months-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImPnnSvpPGEd55ZrpWmMf9a4BLSOCybiP8fP3GgwXJVBgbUhQsQtPAaiq7hg7ky-m1dZBNIij0Cc2DSbiKVC3F6s5QA9bCeQM-KwEfvmOTAEwr_ZALVBFxUcIwaQkhXLS_uS24w/s640/44+months-9.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYhz7nzT3z41MGzZySXe-86J-sL2d18Ms6ofy85PD3WupaFgBtyZ-BARfO-b_vhDuVkMHy1J7q-qy9AyTzmyLs-YfQ4L5hqEZqpwLt1TbHy2-hx800hwAN4k-rei-TwELD_4Xvw/s1600/44+months-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYhz7nzT3z41MGzZySXe-86J-sL2d18Ms6ofy85PD3WupaFgBtyZ-BARfO-b_vhDuVkMHy1J7q-qy9AyTzmyLs-YfQ4L5hqEZqpwLt1TbHy2-hx800hwAN4k-rei-TwELD_4Xvw/s640/44+months-10.jpg" width="426" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYyWR2N-jSZZzhXM6qCiIwxakMro6e92Bu-sFJQMsGt2WI73E8m99VXPiKoou4xk-p3PkeJi6G1T9_18xtNzbj9ZxMv3UP-t6eNPEyZs7xZIEE1b-JgM4FVy-Rj93loCWESW98EA/s1600/44+months-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="628" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYyWR2N-jSZZzhXM6qCiIwxakMro6e92Bu-sFJQMsGt2WI73E8m99VXPiKoou4xk-p3PkeJi6G1T9_18xtNzbj9ZxMv3UP-t6eNPEyZs7xZIEE1b-JgM4FVy-Rj93loCWESW98EA/s640/44+months-8.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-84063965716759691042010-07-08T15:11:00.000-05:002010-07-08T15:11:29.518-05:00The Journey Continues...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyno218pWCghdDTUPmrb_3_TBqcL0AuUW4gv0MQ1rIhDQxzKo-EtyB0lOLBnaCkmttoz4ZNyNsu4hgwhzQ_f44v2XGCUzA_0T_ZEiUcov9k9xu1LH9rmhQu3iU-GgPx42BRSx3bA/s1600/palin+voodoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyno218pWCghdDTUPmrb_3_TBqcL0AuUW4gv0MQ1rIhDQxzKo-EtyB0lOLBnaCkmttoz4ZNyNsu4hgwhzQ_f44v2XGCUzA_0T_ZEiUcov9k9xu1LH9rmhQu3iU-GgPx42BRSx3bA/s320/palin+voodoo.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Claire and her merry band of classmates continued their <i><b>Crafts of the World Tour</b></i> today, stopping by Latin America and some other place where "prayer dolls" are made by children to keep them safe at night. Claire either doesn't remember or won't tell me the name of the particular country or region where prayer dolls are traditional, but I'm guessing it's a pretty scary place if they need to make a doll to keep them safe at night. I'm thinking Alaska... who knows? I'm just hoping it's not actually a Haitian voodoo doll constructed in my likeness. Claire's doll does have blond hair, is wearing a (man)dress, and has three eyes - I'm over 40 years old and still wake up some days with a zit square in the middle of my forehead. Anyway, I'll be extra nice to Claire for the next few days... until I can figure out a way to dispose of the doll permanently. Then again, maybe it's harmless? I mean, I've had my own Sarah Palin voodoo doll that I've been sticking pins into for the last year, but it hasn't done much to keep her from spewing - or tweeting - nonsensical ignorant statements (also apparently known as <i>common sense conservative values</i>).</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Claire also brought home a single maraca - also known as a <i>rumba shaker</i>. It's a native instrument of Puerto Rico, Cuba, Venezuela, Guatemala and several nations of the Caribbean and Latin America. I'm not sure which exact country Claire had in mind when she constructed her maraca. All I know is it's a much more pleasant sounding (see also: <i>quieter</i>) instrument than her Aboriginal didgeridoo (which I've come dangerously close to stepping on about a dozen times in the last 24 hours)!</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXHgUbOmm1hsMlmCgWZHUl1rQZTALzfLxTTXToOv3LPHHhquOyZKeK_zEooG1-Kk3fw7GIN9JeCrg8XSPUpCVkA3X_goMC2PMyl8NuuaZcQf5xkmYDb0rJmzfQGV70oWd8tlOFw/s1600/44+months-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXHgUbOmm1hsMlmCgWZHUl1rQZTALzfLxTTXToOv3LPHHhquOyZKeK_zEooG1-Kk3fw7GIN9JeCrg8XSPUpCVkA3X_goMC2PMyl8NuuaZcQf5xkmYDb0rJmzfQGV70oWd8tlOFw/s640/44+months-5.jpg" width="448" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIsmF1DuSphrVu7BsB3veNTCbFSYOnuEJ020Ltam_pw9fUdeVO3mTZUgtvVY59XjWRDIGh5nlK3Cm5UT7PJPcMwcDDlsHPA5vZhlIgk8dDlvD-ohLIydpv0z2f0rHaOAw3kzJNA/s1600/44+months-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIsmF1DuSphrVu7BsB3veNTCbFSYOnuEJ020Ltam_pw9fUdeVO3mTZUgtvVY59XjWRDIGh5nlK3Cm5UT7PJPcMwcDDlsHPA5vZhlIgk8dDlvD-ohLIydpv0z2f0rHaOAw3kzJNA/s640/44+months-7.jpg" width="456" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYoaLVNUK1sqQxNTJbGZ1GuRqDrTcufsrRbJ4eOMvyTNaLF9ShQXLlxaWsp6HXfhNFImxyjGJQ9T4PuWkOl57RLGRLFQlI09UT15dh3PVlpUTAoSTrYaW4R7hep_SY8QWZPxm56A/s1600/44+months-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYoaLVNUK1sqQxNTJbGZ1GuRqDrTcufsrRbJ4eOMvyTNaLF9ShQXLlxaWsp6HXfhNFImxyjGJQ9T4PuWkOl57RLGRLFQlI09UT15dh3PVlpUTAoSTrYaW4R7hep_SY8QWZPxm56A/s640/44+months-6.jpg" width="458" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-73172098877485756552010-07-07T14:58:00.001-05:002010-07-07T15:09:49.480-05:00Around the World... in Four Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRuAlUkADgyDQi7ytE4WelMMJ3Ji61hsLY9rSaXlzJr_FwQeS7W8SJISL9e-735fIkpJOAY_uNUuDqnm31ME8OGQPD_HITeG7LkxoEfI2ZTruLhIcSNE14PNE7X40rxj1uAL9Dag/s1600/jim's+tap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRuAlUkADgyDQi7ytE4WelMMJ3Ji61hsLY9rSaXlzJr_FwQeS7W8SJISL9e-735fIkpJOAY_uNUuDqnm31ME8OGQPD_HITeG7LkxoEfI2ZTruLhIcSNE14PNE7X40rxj1uAL9Dag/s320/jim's+tap.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Claire is back in preschool this week for a 4-day mini-camp: <b style="color: orange;"><i>Crafts of the World</i></b>. She had Monday off, but now she and her classmates are spending the remainder of the week going around the world learning about arts-n-crafts from other lands. I, too, once went around the world. I believe the year was 1995 when I set sail from <i><b>Jim's Tap</b></i> on Main Street in Brookings, SD. It was a fairly brief voyage, yet my shipmates and I managed to "visit" 10 countries in just a few short hours: Canada, Germany, Jamaica, Mexico, Ireland, Australia, Japan, England, Norway and Slovakia. But instead of studying local arts-n-craft traditions, we each consumed a select beer from each country. The voyage was part of my older brother's bachelor party. Incidentally, the fact my older bro is an official <i style="color: red;">Tour Guide</i> after having traveled <i>around the world</i> so many time's at <b><i>Jim's</i></b> during his college years in the 1980's - with an official <i style="color: red;">Tour Guide</i> jacket to prove it - might give you a good indication of where I get my proclivity for fermented beverages. Anyway...</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Today, Claire visited parts of Europe where she learned about kings and queens. Yesterday she visited Australia and whittled herself a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Didgeridoo">didgeridoo</a> - an Aboriginal wind instrument. But instead of whittling it out of wood, she used construction paper. And after spending just a couple hours at home with Claire and her didgeridoo, I phoned her teacher to announce, <i>"If your around the world adventure has any planned stops in South Africa, I'm pulling Claire out of class faster than you can say 'vuvuzela'!"</i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Here are some photos of Claire wearing her crown and showing off her didgeridoo!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4hvC6IDIhBi9FwXjx4xNL56vqTKkyvqP2gd5wxBfijZdP0RMD-MRyny3vyO5EeQPd14btjNBxoJyI1QsRwHjY2TDie1FfGlfLiCm4G3XVXxQqcn7t4f5VPCqvY4cJScCLKuvKBA/s1600/44+months-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="534" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4hvC6IDIhBi9FwXjx4xNL56vqTKkyvqP2gd5wxBfijZdP0RMD-MRyny3vyO5EeQPd14btjNBxoJyI1QsRwHjY2TDie1FfGlfLiCm4G3XVXxQqcn7t4f5VPCqvY4cJScCLKuvKBA/s640/44+months-3.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw1r9Z0VNKpCvNvIDtNIkc2S9Fq3aR7dm3pUm02vZpV81r_VM1f3JhQUItXJGg83UVL0jJH2wkmIteTh2G1-uvD_9bngqIWvesKf2fGERtWnbuBKGZxNI3il7HYxgyBW8ALhoj2Q/s1600/44+months-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw1r9Z0VNKpCvNvIDtNIkc2S9Fq3aR7dm3pUm02vZpV81r_VM1f3JhQUItXJGg83UVL0jJH2wkmIteTh2G1-uvD_9bngqIWvesKf2fGERtWnbuBKGZxNI3il7HYxgyBW8ALhoj2Q/s640/44+months-4.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSjP0QoboOrwonwoWHGujeUqHdv7DfsVNVQNgEz4AG32RbGD1fwKKw01Q0WMTC3hCV1KPZzTNBz9n4SGnGLi4HKXexWpdx2OhnwW5UrpiX7MznOxprypEPTaz2UUDLel7Im_XN7A/s1600/44+months-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSjP0QoboOrwonwoWHGujeUqHdv7DfsVNVQNgEz4AG32RbGD1fwKKw01Q0WMTC3hCV1KPZzTNBz9n4SGnGLi4HKXexWpdx2OhnwW5UrpiX7MznOxprypEPTaz2UUDLel7Im_XN7A/s640/44+months-2.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-33084482874036617292010-07-02T17:15:00.001-05:002010-07-02T17:17:07.515-05:00Kick-starting the economy - one beer at a time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWlROrGEc9To2SqzpBACoZpGWb7iDVvjFFtV2_XVdqEW69yTznGXaEA-pVZsViX6WOEWn1L87X_HhkebYWUCRMOc1KZV_b0fU95lEi-w4V70SjIx7CIZrJNM18xlU7Kf-3ghsaLQ/s1600/babe-ruth-photograph-c10052353.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWlROrGEc9To2SqzpBACoZpGWb7iDVvjFFtV2_XVdqEW69yTznGXaEA-pVZsViX6WOEWn1L87X_HhkebYWUCRMOc1KZV_b0fU95lEi-w4V70SjIx7CIZrJNM18xlU7Kf-3ghsaLQ/s320/babe-ruth-photograph-c10052353.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: orange; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span class="UIStory_Message">Sometimes when I reflect on all the beer I drink, I feel ashamed. Then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the brewery and all of their hopes and dreams. If I didn’t drink this beer, they might be out of work and their dreams would be shattered. I think, ‘It is better to drink this beer and let their <span class="text_exposed_show">dreams come true than be selfish and worry about my liver.’</span></span></i></b></span><br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Until I read these inspiring words spoken by Babe Ruth way back when, I was planning to take it easy this weekend and just sit on the patio while sipping one or two ice-cold Canadian Kokanee beers. But now I'm convinced the economy needs me, and 'tis the weekend to show your patriotism. I'm all for "Buy American" - not counting electronics, of course. So I plan to save a few <b><i><a href="http://www.schellsbrewery.com/">August Schell Brewing Company</a> </i></b>(Minnesota) jobs this weekend. In fact, I pledge to create or save at least one job in New Ulm, MN, over the course of this weekend. As near as I can tell, I don't really need to show you any proof that I've done so - I just need to keep saying I did it over and over and over again. So... <b style="color: red;">Gr<span style="color: #38761d;">ai</span>n <span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="color: red;">B</span>el<span style="color: red;">t</span> </span>P<span style="color: #38761d;">re</span>mi<span style="color: #38761d;">um</span></b> anyone?</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-1557793576233186752010-07-02T13:46:00.001-05:002010-07-02T13:47:23.151-05:00Happy Independence Day (weekend)<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: orange;">You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism.</b> </span> </i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>~ Erma Bombeck, Humorist</b></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">From our family to yours - have a fabulous Fourth of July weekend! To celebrate this year, I think I'm going to have a little chat with Linda about <i>"...what wives are for!"</i> I think it's finally time I declare my independence from being chained to the stove every night. Then again, I sure would hate to go without my Starbuck's venti iced mocha allowance. Thanks to my sis for sending this old advertisement and giving me the incentive I need to hang up my apron!</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzsuCqJakeZHzNkWSFjpHLncuVYWTVJGjTWTV9AxKfAMXdTwCaOqvNzkJNzSiCNd3bS5OYN9ueCrcESpW_fq4ru58nNXUVxx7_AzvGzi06LoDO4-_W87VTxx-OfB5cYmFzsLXMXw/s1600/chef.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="632" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzsuCqJakeZHzNkWSFjpHLncuVYWTVJGjTWTV9AxKfAMXdTwCaOqvNzkJNzSiCNd3bS5OYN9ueCrcESpW_fq4ru58nNXUVxx7_AzvGzi06LoDO4-_W87VTxx-OfB5cYmFzsLXMXw/s640/chef.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-81350602067306748942010-07-01T12:37:00.001-05:002010-07-01T16:45:54.144-05:00The Zen Master and her Green Dad<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i>This is a sponsored post written by me on behalf of <b style="color: #38761d;">ProFlowers</b>. I received a free bonsai tree in return for this post. All opinions are 100% mine.</i> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXPSfKP5WsZ_9Qs48Vt21yisVT4JInsn0LUQjQjjei-mS7LDESCdG8GOBJQ-_MiMAbhFisKMKKyGGDGqG5Pw2atID_WAxYEPokHdv2icLUjelOzUmpxd6OoSQIaNiSEsgQgZpWvQ/s1600/sprout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXPSfKP5WsZ_9Qs48Vt21yisVT4JInsn0LUQjQjjei-mS7LDESCdG8GOBJQ-_MiMAbhFisKMKKyGGDGqG5Pw2atID_WAxYEPokHdv2icLUjelOzUmpxd6OoSQIaNiSEsgQgZpWvQ/s200/sprout.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Now that Claire is 3-1/2 years old, she has no problem expressing her dissatisfaction whenever she feels we, as parents, are restricting her ability to grow as an individual. For example, if we make the mistake of actually entering or leaving the house without first giving Claire the opportunity to open the door, then we can expect to have a screaming toddler on our hands for at least the next 20 minutes. And the only way to calm her tantrum is to offer her a hug and an <i>"I'm sorry"</i> - but only after she's had a sufficient amount of time to loudly and repetitively tell you, <i>"I wanted to be first!"</i> So I'm constantly looking for ways to give Claire responsibility - or the power - for making her own decisions. As a parent, it's easy to forget Claire is a miniature person trying to grow in a big person's world. So while she's struggling to develop to her full potential, I'm often times restricting her ability by doing things for her or by being overprotective. But in my view, it's like keeping a little tomato plant in a small pot before transferring it to the garden. I want to nurture and care for my little sprout until she's ready to bloom. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So lately, I've been looking for ways to help Claire blossom within the imaginary protective container I've built around her. I want her to feel a sense of harmony, peace and balance with her surroundings so she can develop a Zen-like approach to pruning and shaping herself. And that's when it hit me - <i>Bonsai!</i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijL01nHPlixgPBfyRCifg-zZlXzwuAq-L0xLZkEDkWP6ktbv813eTcDrAolLi0o-FyMLbBKfnawZa5BMr-jSweiAzo82-2O18gAkBCEx0X1ZIUsa80IVjngV_PeoaPujE5ZMkffg/s1600/green+thumb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijL01nHPlixgPBfyRCifg-zZlXzwuAq-L0xLZkEDkWP6ktbv813eTcDrAolLi0o-FyMLbBKfnawZa5BMr-jSweiAzo82-2O18gAkBCEx0X1ZIUsa80IVjngV_PeoaPujE5ZMkffg/s400/green+thumb.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I was recently given the opportunity to obtain a <a href="http://www.proflowers.com/bonsaiandtropical-bnt">Bonsai tree</a> from <i style="color: #38761d;"><b>ProFlowers</b></i>. So I visited <i style="color: #38761d;"><b>ProFlowers.com</b></i> and selected a Hibiscus Bonsai as a surprise for Claire. Her tree arrived yesterday, and Claire could not be happier. In fact, she's ecstatic! This particular bonsai variety - known as <i>Lil' Kim</i> - blooms in summer so, as you can see, it arrived with little flowers on it. To Zen Buddhists, the bonsai is a symbol of honor and prestige. To Claire, it's just a REALLY cool tree in a ceramic pot that she can nurture and care for everyday. As a dad, I know how she feels. And over time, Claire will begin to realize her tree also represents peace, harmony, and all good things. And unlike her mother - who seems to kill any plant ever introduced into our home - Claire has already developed a green thumb.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Part of Claire's journey toward a better understanding of the world around her involves learning about her environment and how she can take care of it. At her Montessori preschool, she's been taught to respect the environment and all the creatures that live in it. So instead of squishing bugs we find indoors, we have to capture them and release them back into the wild - something I struggle with since I find most bugs just as objectionable as I do snakes. Therefore, Claire's momma is <i>Chief Bug Catcher</i> around our house. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3A4v8QgS_LMeBvPFHpf5lzgIJ1MxpAE51ExvaoUGExhOyVZObudNTPVAZSzV9OUVo0pPuVJy_xhfqiL-ZzeZVtXEQxdljLQJBFGZYEznulJ2hXvFKEjvYRGf2ego13RnfWwUBUA/s1600/green+thumb2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3A4v8QgS_LMeBvPFHpf5lzgIJ1MxpAE51ExvaoUGExhOyVZObudNTPVAZSzV9OUVo0pPuVJy_xhfqiL-ZzeZVtXEQxdljLQJBFGZYEznulJ2hXvFKEjvYRGf2ego13RnfWwUBUA/s320/green+thumb2.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But there are other things I can do as a dad to make the world a better place for Claire and future generations of Stewarts. For example, I teach Claire about water conservation by only showering and shaving once or twice a week - three times if I actually go to church on Sunday. Just this morning Claire scolded me, <i>"You're wasting water,"</i> after I left the water running too long while scrubbing a frying pan in the sink. We also have a very elaborate recycling center I designed within one of our kitchen cupboards that consists of our trash can for garbage and a paper grocery bag for recyclables. Claire wants me to draw a triangle on the paper bag because she learned at preschool that the triangle represents <i>recycling</i>. Also, my friends from college won't be surprised to learn I grow my own herbs - for cooking, that is. Mainly cilantro and basil. I even used to make Claire organic baby food in a blender when she was younger, but now we just buy organic food from the grocery store or make homemade smoothies from organic bananas. Additionally, we grow a lot of our own produce, and Claire likes to help water and weed the garden. Check that - she USED to like to water the garden until the day she dropped the water hose and drenched herself.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Anyway, I think Claire can grow into quite the little Zen Master by caring for her own bonsai tree. We also have a lot of hippy friends with solid environmental values who have a strong influence on Claire. Plus, Claire's grandpa and grandma own their own farm where they raise crops that they feed to their cows and pigs (no hormones on this farm!). AND, Claire's Auntie Karen is very much into sustainable design through her company, <a href="http://www.watersheddesigngroup.com/">Watershed Design Group</a>. So with any luck at all, Claire will not only blossom into the kind of person we all groom her to be, but - more importantly - into the person she wants to be.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35411599.post-40471408049815726222010-06-30T13:02:00.000-05:002010-06-30T13:02:30.521-05:00Get on your bad motor scooter and ride!<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Even though I'm not too impressed</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">with the picture quality of my new Blackberry, I thought I'd still shoot some video since the phone has the option to do so. Following is the end result - my very first Blackberry-generated video. I'm still not very impressed with the quality, but I sure love the main character of this short film!</span><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="525" width="660"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jTCcUE3ejug&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jTCcUE3ejug&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="660" height="525"></embed></object></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon32x32.png" alt="" style="border:0"/></a><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Stay-at-home-dog" title="Subscribe to my feed" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></div>Bogarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665050277295610685noreply@blogger.com2