Right now I'm sitting at the kitchen table where T's laptop tends to hang out thereby avoiding going upstairs to my own desk where I have work waiting for me. However, the kitchen is a mess--the aftermath of a blueberry pancake extravaganza* in honor of my brother-in-law whose visit came to a close this morning-- so I am typing on the laptop to avoid looking at the sink filled with dishes.

At my feet are three dogs in various states of resignation that the early morning walk has yet to materialize. I'm avoiding eye contact with them as well.

In the living room is my morning journal which has also been on the receiving end of some evasive maneuvers as I seem to want to do nothing but go to the beach.

It's that kind of morning; summer, sunny, languorous.

We have a huge crew of friends arriving tonight for the weekend-- the boys are all doing some kind of boy thing-- a half-iron man-- and they don't giggle when they say that. I mean, come on, a a HALF iron man? But then, how can I ridicule when I wouldn't make it through the first mile of the swim let alone the run and the bike ride.

Point being-- I am feeling pulled in so many directions. Which will probably result in my taking the dogs up the mountain as I can feel virtuous ("I am walking my dogs!") while avoiding work, cleaning, cooking, or any of the other myriad tasks calling to me here.

Someone asked for more tales of the brombie mob and it pains me DEEPLY to admit that Daisy had her first extended "away time" last Monday and I thought I would just up and die.

I had taken the three up the mountain-- one of the bigs always on a leash-- and then, when Ollie was on the leash, Henry decided to dart off into the woods and Miss Daisy followed suit. However, she. did. not. come. back.

This is utterly not in her personality and she had never done this before so I was furious with Henry, of course, for leading her astray and, naturally, placing all responsibility on the dog thereby absolves me of the guilt that I MADE HIM THIS WAY.

Long story short, Henry came back about 40 minutes later-- without the girl. (insert panicked breathing here). She showed up about two hours later-- a bit freaked, but home.

Needless to say, I now know not a one of them can be trusted. Hell and Damnation.

But god, if they aren't adorable and have me wrapped around their road-weary paws. Sorry Ceasar, I'll just never live up to the example you set . . .

*Made from scratch with blueberries T picked yesterday afternoon as he kayaked along the edge of the lake. NOTE: not made by yours truly who lay in bed waiting for the call that "coffee's up, cakes are done!"-- have I illustrated just what a lazy creature I am today? Alrighty then-- that shall be my accomplishment of the day!

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