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A little cheese with that whine?

It's been so nice the last several days that I really have nothing to complain about.  Oh sure, I could probably find plenty to justify a good whine, but I just don't feel like it.  Tonight, Ron brought home some Coronas and after I poured mine into a frosty mug from the freezer, I noticed him trudging into the back yard.  So I shouted for him to please toss me a lime.  He picked one off the tree and underhanded the lovely, tangy green orb right up to me over the railing of the lanai.  Now that's livin'.  

Lately, I've taken to singing a little ditty from Uncle Albert (Paul McCartney) to Crawford whenever I take her for a walk in her sling.  She can't hear me, but I sing to her anyway.  Her back legs hang, so I have to be sure to keep them from dragging.  The other day there I was, singing, "Weedle weedle, little Crawford get around (get around), get your feet up off the ground, weedle weedle get around....
"What are you singing?"  Ron asked.  I repeated my tune,making sure to go high on the weedle weedle.  
"I always thought it was "Guido Guido little gypsy get around...." he said.
"Why would it be Guido Guido?" I asked. 
"Why would it be weedle weedle?" He countered.  He had a point.  So, with the magic of Google, I looked up the lyrics and voila! Now we sing, "Live a little, little Crawford get around (get around) get your feet up off the ground, little Crawford get around."  It's a happy tune, but I still like weedle weedle and sometimes I sing it that way 'cause it's more fun.

I finally drug my fat ass into the gym today after a too-long hiatus.  It was a beautiful day at the park, too, with the giant gas plume blowing away and over to Kona. This afternoon, I spent a short time in the grass with Crawford, she in the shade of the kukui nut tree and me in the sun on my tiny beach chair.  I also managed to read a chapter and three stories today.  Now, I've got a screamin' good idea for a story of my own.  At least, I've got part of an idea.  That's enough for me to dive in.  We'll see where it leads.

The neighbor's baby goat has been crying a lot today, which really bothers the Doctor Dog.  It distresses him to hear the baby. He doesn't flinch at the sound of another neighbor's cow mooing or even other dogs barking.  But the baby goat upsets him and he barks like he means it.  So I am forced to bring him in, where he cannot hear the baby.  Honestly, the baby goat's cries upset me a little too.  I think he wants his mommy.

Tonight, Ron discharged my shotgun in the general direction of the piggies in order to scare them silly and send them running.  BOOM!  It would have sent me running if fired in my general direction.  Yes, you read that right.  It's my shotgun.  I also own a Colt 357 magnum and a Ruger 357 magnum, two bad-ass pistols.  They belonged to my father, and now they belong to me.  Some day, I plan to actually shoot one of them at a firing range, just to see if I can remain standing. So, do ya feel lucky?  Do ya punk?

Gotta go.  I'm typing this on the lanai (love wireless!) and I think a bug just flew in my ear.  Ah the tropics...

A hui hou.  Aloha!

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