Cathy in the Wright

Freshman Lit?

Headline from today's StarTribune web site:

Court calls Macalester student's porn sentence too long

Don't Forget To Click!

Day by Day Cartoon is slated to be back tomorrow!

Welcome home, Mr. Muir. It's been a long drought.

Another One From The "Where Did He Learn That?" File...

Today's diamond from the backseat was, "You can kiss my butt."

Okay, Governor, where did you hear that?

"It's what (insert cartoon character name I've never heard) says on the cartoon."

You're done watching that cartoon.

"Never again?"

Never.

On the bright side, I didn't have to listen to any bad Christmas music in the car today. The down side is that I had to listen to the same Raffi song over and over and over. Good thing it's a short trip to the nursing home.

And speaking of our nursing home visit...today I was kneeling on the floor next to Marianne's chair. I often sit or kneel next to the residents so I'm looking up rather than down at them. It's easier to get the dog closer to them in that position as well. So I'm next to Marianne, and I'm guessing the distance between my head and her bottom was roughly 24 inches. That was about eight feet too short. The poor woman gambled on a gas bubble...and lost. The initial sound was horrible. The following odor was beyond description.

That's the great thing about Alzheimer's patients, though. You can get up and run away, and next week they won't remember how rudely you bolted in the middle of a conversation.

From The "Where Did He Learn That?" File...

Last night the family drove up to St. Cloud to do a bit of shopping. On the way I hear The Governor in the back seat say, "Heroes kiss the girls on their earlobes."

As King would say...can I get a WTF here?!

I know he wasn't with me when he picked up that gem.

Scrooge Critiques Holiday Music

The worst Christmas song I've ever heard has to be Jewel singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

Or so I thought. Today on the car radio I heard Celine Dion singing Feliz Navidad. I nearly drove into a tree. On purpose.

Saturday

What a great Saturday. Did anyone else get breakfast served to them in bed? No? No cheese and sausage omlet? Ooh. Too bad. You'll just have to take my word for it that it was wonderful.

I'm getting a little spoiled today because I was at the hospital yesterday. I had a bit of outpatient surgery done. I'd go into detail, but it relates to female problems, and my brother-in-law would have an aneurysm. If I posted the color picture the doctor gave me of the inside of my uterus, I'm sure the b-i-l would get gray matter on his monitor.

The procedure went well, but by the time I got home, the pain had surpassed the Advil threshhold. I wasn't about to go back to the hospital, and having the doctor call in a prescription was wasting valuable time. I rummaged through the medicine cabinet. Hey! What's this? Vicodin from last year when I broke my wrist. I felt better already. I did call the doctor to see if it was okay to add this to my recovery plan. I had swallowed two pills before I hung up the phone. I've been feeling great ever since.

Note to Mom: I don't need an intervetion yet. This morning I'm back to a regular dose of Advil, and I feel fine. (My family is big on the "tough-it-out" theory of medicine. You weren't going to the doctor unless it was a compound fracture or lung tissue came out on the Kleenex.)

(Mmmm...another aside: The VP just handed me a piece of beef jerky that we got back from the butchers yesterday. Wow is that good. Beef jerky from our own cow. The VP himself is pretty happy. "30 freakin' pounds of it, Cathy!")

The rest of this wonderful day will consist of putting up and decorating the Christmas tree while we watch the snow falling outside. If I can tear the men in the family away from The Cartoon Network, that is.

I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving Day and none of you had to subject yourself to the shopping malls yesterday. Except for those of you, like my sister-in-law's family who willfully go in for that sort of masochistic sport. I would rather gone all day without my Vicodin.

Have a great weekend.

Down -- and Out!

It has been reported about the Governor, aka Damien, that he’s more difficult to handle than a barbed-wire suppository. This is contrary to my experience as the occasional baby-sitter.

For example, while the Chairman and Green Goddess were away Wednesday, I was in charge of the Governor and the Senator.

Piece of cake! You may take notes.

I began with a CD-ROM of Loony Tunes cartoons. Bugs, Daffy and Elmer Fudd kept the Governor occupied—we need not tell Mom for how long—but it was time enough for breakfast to wear off. Ritz crackers and a hot dog made a fine lunch for a growing boy.

An after-lunch Loony Tunes CD helped put the lad into a torpor which was part of the plan—the Governor turning himself into Mr. Slug-a-Bed. Without a whimper, he submitted to the rocking chair and crashed for nearly three hours.

With the Governor down, the Senator came upstairs after viewing Disney’s “Tarzan.” He had turned off the TV, because “Too much television will make mush out of your mind.” Ah, to lunch. Sensible foods were offered; Ritz crackers and chocolate, yogurt-covered raisins were accepted.

A highlight of the day was watching the Senator use lexical skills that portend a career at law. I told him to “get off” a precarious perch on the arm of the sofa. “But I LIKE to sit here,” he said, so I rephrased. “Do Mom and Dad LET you sit there?” “No,” he admitted. Good day with only one failure. The Governor asked me “What does exception mean?” when he heard the word on TV. I couldn’t tell him—at a loss to put the word into context for a 2-year-old.

Clicked Here Yet?

This guy doesn't get enough attention.

See If You Can Get A Round Going At The Old Water Cooler Today...

The Senator's cough has worsened. Not to be left out of the action, his nose has also joined the mele. We're in for one heck of a night. Right now he's laying on the couch watching old Underdog cartoons. And now that you've seen the word "Underdog," you'll be thinking of that show and just how did that theme song go...it'll bug you all day.

I'm here to help:

When criminals in this world appear
and break the laws that they should fear
and frighten all who see or hear
the cry goes up both far and near
for Underdog! Underdog! Underdog! Underdog!

Speed of lightning, roar of thunder
fighting all who rob or plunder
Underdog. Underdog!

When in this world the headlines read
of those whose hearts are filled with greed
who rob and steal from those who need
to right this wrong with blinding speed
goes Underdog! Underdog! Underdog! Underdog!

Speed of lightning, roar of thunder
fighting all who rob or plunder
Underdog. Underdog!

Nothing Here...Go Read Other Blogs

Our trip to the nursing home got cancelled this morning because The Senator woke up with a bad cough. Now the dog is looking at me reproachfully because he had to take a bath for naught. I think I'll just let him outside for a while and see if the 30 degree weather and wet fur don't improve his attitude a bit.

Had a fun soccer game last night, although someone needs to have a few words with Renaldo. I think that's his name. He's an excellent player, but tends to forget that we are signed up for a recreational league. He has an irritating habit of obstructing other players even when the ball is no where near him. If I have to play against him next week and he pulls this nonsense, I'm going to jump on his back. That'll teach him. He's already spooked a bit by the fact that there are women in this league. Jumping on his back will probably land him in therapy.

I don't have much else, so I'll leave you with something from the Fun folder:

Scrooge Shops

I spent today trying to trim down my Christmas shopping list. The effort felt much like having your toddler pee on a forest fire to extinguish the blaze. Well, perhaps not quite that futile. I was able to scratch off a few items.

I decided to hit the stores that I would least like to visit AFTER Thanksgiving. And topping that list was Toys ‘R’ Us. Actually, it was second on the list, right after Wal-Mart. But since I don't shop at Wal-Mart, I faced the toy behemoth.

As it turns out, Toys ‘R’ Us IS Wal-Mart… just without the deodorant aisle. Crowded, messy, and under-staffed. As I was perusing the toddler section, I came across someone having a worse time than I was, although not for the same reasons. Gazing at the "Little Tikes” toys was a tall, thin, white-haired woman with a pinched face and a long overcoat. With some black in her hair and a Dalmatian stuffed in her pocket, she could have passed for Cruella De Ville. She was waiving her claw at the toys and bleating, “I know there’s a toy store in St. Paul that’s supposed to be just fabulous! It doesn’t have all this plastic stuff.” She was talking to a man (her husband, I think…and I shudder on his behalf) who ignored her and looked at the hideous plastic wares for sale. “Well,” she continued, “I guess she’s going to want this. It’s what all the other kids will have, isn’t it?” At that point I backed up my cart and started to leave. Cruella turned to me and said, “Oh, I’m not frightening you away, am I?”

“No,” I said, “but it sounds like you might need a private moment when it really hits you that you’re going to buy a plastic table and chairs instead of the hand-carved tea table made from Brazilian Cherry wood with matching, upholstered seats.”

I didn’t think the skin on her face would have stretched that far, but she managed to drop her chin a few inches. I left.

I paid for my stuff, got in my car, and drove home.

I would only like to add a personal note to the two radio stations in town that are already running an “All Christmas Music” format: While I was troubled to hear holiday music before Thankgiving (think Kenny G. + flute and you’ll understand my pain), I am a forgiving sort of person. However, if I tune in and hear more than one Amy Grant song, I will take a claw hammer to my radio and send you the bill for the repair.

Happy Holidays.

My Suit Was At The Cleaners...

The VP and I went to the wedding of our former babysitter last night. (Which makes me officially OLD, by the way)

The bride was glowing, the groom was beaming, the priest was witty, and everyone sure seemed to be having a good time. The only damper on the evening was that I forgot my camera. Sure, I'll get to see wedding photos later, but I was unable to capture for posterity a particular guest who was sporting the ultimate wedding couture. I am truly disappointed I couldn't share the sight with you. A young man at a table near ours was wearing a baseball cap, a mullet, and a black t-shirt that read, "Feel the Wrath of My Nuts."

I'll bet he never, ever walks into a room and worries that someone else might have on the same outfit.

Good Jokes

Copied from Mary's site:

An old man lived alone in the country. He wanted to dig his potato garden but it was very hard work as the ground was hard. His only son Fred, who used to help him, was in prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament.

Dear Fred,

I am feeling pretty bad because it looks like I won't be able to plant my potato garden this year. I'm just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. If you were here, all my troubles would be over. I know you would dig the plot for me.

- Love Dad

A few days later he received a letter from his son.

Dear Dad,

For heaven's sake, don't dig up that garden! That's where I buried the BODIES.

- Love Fred

At 4 am the next morning, FBI agents and local police arrived and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They apologized to the old man and left. That same day the old man received another letter from his son.

Dear Dad,

Go ahead and plant the potatoes now. That's the best I could do under the circumstances.

- Love Fred

And from YaYa (who give credit to Glory Road):

Two little boys are sitting in the living room, watching TV with their parents. The mother looks over at the father with a wink and a nod toward the stairs to the bedroom. The father "gets" the message, and they both get up and head towards the stairs. The mother turns back to the 2 boys and says, "We're going upstairs for a minute. You two stay here and watch TV. We'll be right back, OK?"

The two boys nod OK, and the parents take off upstairs. The oldest of the 2 boys is old enough to know what's going on now, and he gets up and tiptoes upstairs. At the top of the stairs, he peeks into his mom and dad's room and shakes his head.

Back downstairs he goes, back to his little brother. "Come with me," he says, and the 2 little boys tiptoe up the stairs.

Halfway up, the older brother turns to the younger brother and says, "Now I want you to keep in mind, this is the same woman who used to bust your ass for sucking your thumb!!!!"

Misc. II - A Continuing Series

I looked at my Site Meter the other day, and I notice I'm getting a few hits from a site called Go Lake Ozarks. So I check it out, and under a bulletin board/forum section on fishing, someone asked a question about blogs. And someone writing as "Grizbaja" puts down the old Crazyweiler url as one of his (her?) favorite sites.

I'm not sure why someone started asking about blogs on a fishing bulletin board...but I always appreciate a good review. So just for you fishing fanatics who stumbled my way, my next picture of a soon-to-be-consumed dead animal will be a walleye.

Thanks, Grizbaja.

Misc.

I was in the kitchen just now trying to contain a hundred thousand packing peanuts that arrived in some boxes. They spilled all over the table, the floor, and peanut dust was sticking to everything else. I'm muttering and cursing under my breath. And then I knocked another box of peanuts on the floor.

There was a long, quiet pause and then The Senator, who was coloring at the kitchen counter, turns around in his chair and says, "Woah...glad it wasn't me."

Apparently, I have a reputation around here.

Have A Hart

Hunting season, or rather, slug-hunting season is wrapping up today in the regions surrounding The Outpost. Since my cow-butchering photos drew such a fine response, I thought you might like to see some additional dead animals destined for the freezer and then the dinner plate.

Here, my neighbors Todd and JJ show off some of the fine specimens that their hunting party bagged over the weekend:

A closer look:

Me? I was too busy trying to start my meth lab to go hunting. At least that's what the lawyers for Target Corporation must have assumed. On Sunday, we decided to take a family trip to Target. The VP and The Governor in one cart; The Senator and I man another. This way, when The Governor starts acting up, we can separate him from the rest of the crowd. I continue shopping, and we still get out of the store in under an hour.

So half-way through our trip, The VP and The Governor split off and I finish up with The Senator. We start checking out and the clerk's computer screen starts flashing messages at her and refuses to ring through my Triaminic Cold & Cough Softchews. Why? Because she has alredy scanned two other cold products containing Pseudoephedrine. Target (or at least Target stores in Wright County, meth capital of Minnesota) have a policy of not selling more than two products containing this much-desired ingredient.

Is there a chemist in the audience? I have no idea how much pseudoephedrine one needs to produce meth but apparently the .15mg per tablet (I was trying to buy 54; 3 boxes of 18) is enough to set off alarms.

The clerk was very apologetic. No problem, I said. Here, keep this box. Just then The VP and The Gov show up with a few items to purchase.

Hey, can you give him the box? Can he buy it? We're married, though. The drug will be going to the same household.

The clerk smiled and rung it through. "Different customer," she said.

That's it, girl! Stick it to the man. So with some inside help, I managed to foil Target and come home with my stash of cold meds.

I had more to post on the weekend, but I'm off to go look at the proofs of the family photos we took last week.

One last photo...just for my PETA friends.

The Person Who Has Everything

Do you have someone like that on your holiday shopping list? I have several. But my problems are solved. They are all getting one of these.

Seriously. I'm ordering an entire litter of them right now. Buppa - don't click unless you want to know what you're getting for Christmas.

It Worked!

Thanks to Steve's suggestion to use Head and Shoulders to eliminate the skunk smell, Hoocher had to undergo one final bath.

And thanks to Steve, Hoocher has had his kitchen privileges restored.

.

Here he is resting on his favorite rug - the rug from which he can see the stove, the refrigerator, and the dining counter. Life is good once more.

It Is Friday, Isn't It?

I was just about to start whining because I'm so tired, but I just read Steve B's comment, and now I'm wide awake. A new idea to wash away the skunk smell! Poor Hoocher is in for his fourth bath since the attack. Head and Shoulders. Hope The VP doesn't mind me raiding his shampoo.

Thanks, Steve!

Your regularly scheduled whining has been replaced by the following graphics:

Men's Life Before Marriage:

and

Men's Life After Marriage:

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! So very funny...and so true. Thanks to Gary for sending these pictures my way.

Everything's Coming Up Roses Around Here

Last night The VP and I took the boys to see The Incredibles. I thought I'd be bored. Instead, I was riveted. When The Governor decided half way through that he wanted to go home, I nearly cried. Good movie. Or at least the first half was.

The night did get better. At home, I got out of the car and was bowled over by the unmistakable smell of skunk. One of the foul rodents must have squeezed through the backyard fence and tangoed with the dog. The inside of the house smelled just as bad. Threw the dog in the tub and tried a de-skunking recipe I cut out of the paper. Allegedly, a mixture of baking soda, hydrogen peroxide, and dish soap is supposed to work miracles. God must have changed to a quota system because the dog still stinks.

This morning The Gov and I had our early childhood class together, so I threw all the windows open before we left hoping the house would air out a bit. Never considered the overcast skies. You guessed it. Rain.

Finally, I'm watching one of The Governor's little friends for the day. This kid, if you can believe it possible, makes The Governor look like Mother Teresa on Valium. So far, however, it's been fine. Nothing broken yet. Of course it's only noon. I'm not expecting the parents to reclaim him until dinner time. No problem, though. If it was the other way round, I wouldn't reclaim The Governor until Friday.

Yes I'm Back

Thanks, Professor, for posting a bit over the weekend. We had a good time, and a lot of that was because I don't have to worry about the boys having fun when they're with you and Mom.

Thanks, also, to my sister for helping out over the weekend. The Senator can't stop talking about "Far-a-way Island" (Safari Island Water Park).

Today was one of The Senator's full days at school, so The Governor and I made a list of things to accomplish. Our list had eight bullet points. We crossed off three. Went to the local government center and got the form and pictures to renew my passport. Went to lunch. After lunch we were headed to Target, but one of us had a tantrum and so we headed home and took naps. Naps were on the list, however, so we were able to draw a line through bullet point number six.

And boy am I glad I got the passport photos today. Tonight at soccer, I decided to block a hard shot with my face. That stung a bit. The guy who took the shot is one of my good friends, and he felt just awful about it. I just hope my face turns a nasty black and blue because then I will email him pictures on the hour over the next couple of days. The photos will halt when I get a new color TV. He works for Best Buy.

Passport photos? Yep. Heading to Englad and Scotland this summer. The Minnesota Masons are organizing a trip. They do this kind of thing when they're not too busy helping other Masons take over the world's monetary supply or rigging political elections. (You all knew W's daddy was a brother, right?) And you really thought your vote counted.

That's all for now. Tomorrow we're skipping the nursing home to get some family photos taken. Depending on what my face looks like, I may substitue Hoocher in my stead.

A major departure

Hoocher, the Senator and the Governor have departed the city to resume their bucolic life at the Outpost. In their wake, the Green Goddess and I have quiet, which is not all it’s cracked up to be. Those kids and dog were great to have around the house.

Auntie E had the boys from afternoon Saturday through most of our dinner party of five couples that evening. Good ‘ol auntie took them to a water park, playground and for four hours of playtime with cousins J and M. While the boys were away, Hoocher drew affection to himself from our dinner guests. Exile to a bedroom had been planned, but the pup’s aristocratic politeness earned him freedom of the house. His only problem was ordering the roster of guests in line to pet him.

While the Green Goddess was cooking up roulade of lamb, stuffed with herbs, Hoocher decided his role would be that of supervisory chef. He posted himself in front of the kitchen sink and next to the stove. He was in the way, and, like a 300-pound linebacker, could not be moved.

Auntie E brought the boys home about dessert time. The Governor was wiped out and living up to his reputation for grumpy. The Senator, old enough to have additional endurance, meanwhile, lived up to his nickname. He worked the crowd in a way that might have changed the election results, if Kerry could have done as well. The boys slept until 9:30 a.m. Sunday. Hey, mom, nothing to it—if you have the knack. (Discount it, if they tell you their grape juice treat at bedtime came out of a corked bottle.)

Sunday included a trip to Target for two action figures and, oh, why not, a pair of referee’s whistles. The boys enjoyed tooting a whistle at our house so much that we thought it only fair they have one each to take home and serenade the Chairman and VP. How thoughtful, we are. No?

The Senator also worked hard on his scooter skills and extended the frontier of his exploration from our house, traveling down the sidewalk across the street. He wouldn’t wear a jacket, because “I never get cold.” It was all we could do to get him to put on socks. It won’t be long that he’ll want to be going around the block by himself. Next thing you know, it’ll be away to graduate school instead of just around the corner.

While the Chairman's Away ...

Hoocher has adapted to city life, just fine, thank you. He’s selected two sofas and a chair as nice places to sleep, and he’s marked his way around the block. He’s guest of the Professor and Green Goddess—as are the Senator and Governor—while the Chairman and VP party it up with the Chairman’s soccer team.

Hoocher’s probably the easiest dog to live with temporarily who ever has mooched a treat in the house. He defines cool; Ms. Chairman, you ought to get him a pair of sunglasses. Nothing perturbs Hoocher. He had a how-do-you-do with a Visalia visiting across the street with the aplomb of a duke at high tea. Can’t wait to introduce him to the U.K. couple who live down the block. Instead of Hoocher, you should have called this dog James … James Bond.

Hoocher has the taste buds of a duke as well as royal manners. Milk bones are beneath him, literally; stick one in his mouth, and he’ll drop it on the floor, between his legs. Beef Jerky, well, that’s another story. He’ll inhale a beef strip, but without any noticeable slurp or gulp.

The Senator and Governor are behaving as well as the dog, which is routine when they’re at our house. In fact, the Senator even helped with housekeeping today. He took a broom to the kitchen floor. “I swept everything under the refrigerator,” he said proudly. As for the Governor, he became intellectually involved with an “Ed, Ed and Eddie” cartoon festival on TV. When the Governor burst out laughing once, he explained, “He said ‘applesauce.”

The four of us walked Hoocher around the block, 7/10th of a mile, tonight, which put the boys in a somnolent mood. The Governor was put to bed at 9 p.m. in a crib upstairs without a protest. We were going to let the Senator stay up a while longer, but he took himself to bed. Tears welled in his eyes, because, “I miss my mother.”

Saturday is going to be one of those days. With the two boys and a dog in residence, we’re also hosting a dinner party for ten people. It’s a cooperative event, with five couples each producing a dish, with the Green Goddess in charge of the main course—lamb. The house was in reasonable shape for this dinner, until the boys and dog arrived. Right now, the living room looks like the hand grenade range at Ft. Benning. The Chairman’s sister will be entertaining the boys from Saturday afternoon into the evening, so everything should go just fine.

Is It Safe To Gloat Yet?

Thanks to Gary for sending this one.

Not much time to post. We've been overrun today with munchkins of all ages arriving for playdates. And now I'm trying to pack for the weekend. Some of my teammates and I are heading up north. I'd like to say that we have a full schedule of hiking, fishing, and other outdoor activities, but the truth is we will be sitting in front of the television drinking beer until Twister looks like a fun game to play. And it will be. Note to self: bring camera.

Have a great weekend everyone!

A Little More Pumice Stone On The Heels, Please

Know what? If Bush wins tonight, I can't wait to read all the doom and gloom Letters to the Editor that will flood the Minneapolis StarTribune in the next couple of days.

Can't. Wait.

I may just have to break down and buy a newspaper so I can take it with me to the indoor pool where my cabana boys will apply moisturizers to my calloused soccer feet and feed me truffles. Godiva. Key Lime.

Of course if Kerry wins, my taxes will go up and I'll have to sack poor Marcos because who can afford to keep five illegal, undocumented, domestic staff members when, really, four would do.

Is It Over Yet?

The counting might not be, but at least the phone calls and literature bombing will cease. We got about 15 phone calls (recorded and live) from various members of the Republican party urging us to vote. And that was just yesterday.

Now that Laura Bush knows my home phone number, I think my chances of getting invited to the White House Easter Brunch have improved.

Kudos, Matthew!

I was going to avoid vote blogging because there are much better places to read about it. But I was heartened to read about Matthew going above and beyond the call to ensure non-partisan polling. Go read it here.

UPDATE: Fraters has info on MoveOn's shenanigans here in MN.

Since Friday

Quite a mixed review of the weekend.

Friday night I wrapped up my outdoor season with a victory. We took 3rd place in the league. There were only four teams in our division, but still...fourth would have been humiliating. We got a nifty plaque and as team organizer, I get to keep it. I will hang it up in the mudroom above the dog bed. Right next to last year's second place plaque.

After taking the victory lap around the field, I had to race up to another suburb to play in the first game of an indoor season. This game stunk. My team is comprised almost entirely of Russian immigrants who had no talent. Usually any team with some international flavor is bound to have a couple of stars who can dance circles around us upstart Americans. Apparently Communism has chosen to focus on baseball and female weight lifters. My God. They were awful. It's going to be a long season.

Saturday I went to a friend's house-warming party. If one can have a house-warming party four years after closing. It was a soccer crowd. We get hives and go through withdrawal when we're away from each other for too long.

Sunday. Halloween. I took The Senator Spiderman and The Governor to my folks house. My folks live in a very liberal neighborhood. You couldn't walk across a lawn without tripping over a "Say No To Bush" sign or a "Kerry/Edwards" placard. (None were vandalized.) I was a bit hesitant to take the boys here, because I didn't want anyone slipping campaign literature into the plastic pumpkin. On the other hand, liberals believe in hand-outs, so I knew I could count on a good haul. I was right.

The candy came in handy this morning. The Senator was having trouble getting up for school until I told him he could pick out a few pieces to put in his lunch box. Today was his first day of "all-day" school. September and October were traditional half-day classes. He will now go two full days and a half day for the rest of the year. He was pretty excited to eat lunch at school. He had hauled out his American flag lunchbox that his aunt and uncle gave him and had it packed on Saturday.

He came home from school tired and hungry. In spite of a snack, the couple of hours until dinner were a bit rocky. I couldn't help but think of how awful life is going to be when he's tired, hungry, and has an hour of homework to do. Yee-ha.

Too much posting. Time to get to bed. Gary - thanks for the videos! I loved them. Dave P. - thanks for the photos. I'll be putting a couple of those up this week.