That's what you get when you let the bumpkins out of Bermtopia.
As a result, the moniker, "Poopheads," stuck like, well, you know.
Oh dear, it just never ends, does it? Shameless. We are utterly shameless.
And in her mind's eye, Robt. D., her beloved husband, was "around here somewhere."
In spirit, Robt. D, in spirit.
The Poopheads handed out "Live Strong" wristbands so we could be as one with their daughter, our niece SeattleNiece#1, who is going through a heinous (word of the month, folks!) regimen of chemo, radiation and surgery for breast cancer.
She is 34-years-old. With two little ones. A wonderful husband. And Sasha -- a very large Bernese Mountain Dog.
So (deep cleansing breath), that's why it's time to drop what you're doing and take a break from reading this stultifying prose. Get up, wander through the castle, and give that favorite fiance/fiancee, spousal unit, child, step-child, grand-child, grand-parent, in-law, out-law or otherwise significant creature in your life -- a hug.
And there are critters. Usually a mule.
But this year, a puppy. A hound. A Kemmer Mountain Cur. They're skilled trackers -- and really good at treeing cougars. Pretty much a necessity in MY uber urban neighborhood.
Oh my heart. He was adorable.