Cathy in the Wright

Direct Kick

My outdoor season started yesterday. Aaahhh....

A Good Night

Since I know Gary has been silently suffering from my long, soccer-blogging hiatus...I have a post to hold him over for another few months.

Last night before my game, I was chatting with my teammate, Dave. Dave had been listening to talk radio on the way to the field, and he was disgusted with how biased the programs were.

There was no balance. No opposing viewpoints. Everything was straight, right-wing agenda.

When I told him there was no need for a left-wing voice on the radio show because he could tune into any of the major news networks or CNN or read the paper, he rolled his eyes. Then I told him that I have a signed picture of the particular right-wing radio host he had been complaining about. And when I told him I was good buddies with the president of the Taxpayers League of Minnesota, he groaned. (Well, okay, maybe not good buddies, but I have had a beer with him at Keegan's pub and I do have a picture of Strom kissing my husband on the cheek, so that should count for something.)

Dave shook his head, and we went out on the field. As luck would have it, the first game I got to play against Dave. He came down towards our net and as he got ready to shoot I yelled, "I voted for George Bush!" The shot went wide.

For the rest of the game, any time Dave got near the ball I had a remark for him.

Karl Rove is a genius.

I heart Dick Chaney.

Someday, I want to work for Enron!

Giuliani in '08!

Dave is too polite a guy to curse, so he had to content himself by yelling, "Just shut up, will you?!"

I gave him a reprieve for the last ten minutes, but as we walked off the field, I promised to get him an 8x10 glossy of my conservative congresswomen, Michele Bachmann for his birthday.

If I find an Al Franken bumper sticker on my car next week, I will know who to blame.

Our Weekend At The Waterpark Ends

Hey Dave P.: A toddler pooped in the kiddie pool this weekend. Made me think of you.

Love,
Cathy

Our Weekend At The Waterpark Begins

It is a truth universally acknowledged that if you are leaving on vacation, you can guarantee that either one of two events will occur withing hours of your departure:

A child will get sick.

The dog will run away only to come home an hour later with poop thickly smeared in his fur and caked under his collar and when you recover from the smell, the dog will have already jumped up a chair. Or two.

The dog is nearly ten. Am I forgiven for thinking that putting him down might be a quicker solution than a bath at this point?

A Brief Spotlight On My Day

It snowed here today. I went outside and made myself a snowman. I called him Chris. Mr. H, for short.

After I made Mr. H., he started mouthing off about how it sucks to live in Minnesota.

Be quiet, I told him. It could be worse. We could live in Arizona. Well then he just wouldn't shut up about Arizona. I reminded him that if he lived in Arizona, he'd be nothing more than a fading wet spot on the sidewalk. But did that still his lips? No. He kept yakking away about how superior the weather is in Arizona.

So I knocked his head off.

He's quieter now. A bit more thoughtful as well. We sat on the front steps and enjoyed the peaceful snowfall. And then I plucked out his mouth and tossed it to the birds.

I felt good.

Why Elk Have Long Antlers

From Aelfheld.

When Mutts Go Bad

My dog has gone round the bend.

Since it was raining yesterday, I decided to leave Hoocher in the mudroom when we all left for the afternoon. Whenever we leave him indoors for an extended period of time, he stays in the mudroom. Otherwise, he likes to stretch out on the couch the minute the door shuts behind us. With allergy issues, we try to discourage the habit and so he gets run of a large room with food, water, and a dog bed which is currently in better shape than my own mattress. He suffers not.

For reasons unknown, this past week he has taken a strong dislike to being left in the mudroom. I've seen a few scratch marks on the door, but yesterday something in his simple little skull snapped. See exhibit A above. We got home to an amazing mess. It looked like someone had a brawl in a woodshop. He gnawed clear down to the glass panes. See the white plastic thing mounted on the wall in the background? It was the Dust Buster re-charger. He chewed through the cord. Upset his dog dish. The rug was shredded.

I don't know what has come over him or why it started out of the blue when being confined to the mudroom has been a long-standing practice.

My guess is that he's getting lonelier in his old age. He just plain misses us. And since we can't stay home merely to placate him...I'm thinking he needs a companion.

Our neighbor's dog has 7-week old yellow lab pups.

While The VP is protesting vehemently against getting another dog...seems to me it would be foolish to ignore this obvious case of divine intervention.

Re: That Last Post

What in the world is wrong with you people?!

Go Eagles!