Re-runs of the Weekend, Piglet Style

Saturday I woke up and felt weirder than a pickle on raisin bran.  I think it was because I/we didn't have anywhere to be before the sun rose.  And then I calmed my horses down, and cracked the whip.  It's yard day.

First we did this.  Actually, Big D did this.

Yay!  Flowerbed sandbox.

And then Big D did this.  And Murnice and I painted in our skivvies.  Notice the extra white rotted fence.

You really should have seen it before.  It was if someone in a drunken rage threw old worn bricks down into the earth attempting to make a straight line.  You'll notice the small deviation in the middle - alas not our fault.  Sidewalks fault. And I'm refusing to forgive the old bloke for being crooked.

And that was it.  Work, work, work, all day.

But Sunday came, and it could not have greeted me in a more pleasant manner.  I got up shortly after 6 to a very quiet house.  A very quiet WARM house. (Those are my favorite kind).  I ran around like a crazed woman, high on "quiet house" and opened all the windows.  It was raining.  And there is nothing more magical to be snuggled in a warm quiet house, with a soft rain and twinkling birds - singing "glory be".  I did not even need tea to rummage me out of my usual morning disposition.  I relished and relished all of it.  And maybe did a rain dance.  And sang a song.

Big D?  Oh, he was off doing some triathlon.  My feelings toward that sorta thing:  Dear Jesus, please please please give Big D the wisdom to swim next to the wall.  Amen.  Yup, not the finest swimmer in the pool.  Other than that - I'm glad he's motivated enough to work on his one-pack.  He had a whiz of a time.  And became "buddies" with some meat head named Ted.  For all of you lady readers, "buddies" mean:  you make a cluck of the tongue and point your finger gun at each other, also hollering things such as - "hey!  when'd you get in?" and "you got this buddy" are all key for "buddy" category-ship.

Also, another key point to triathlon day.  Saturday, Ed learned that coloring all over your skin with markers does not make me the most pleased mother.  And low and behold, Big D had the NERVE to come home with a HUGE permanent marker number on his left arm.  *Ahem*  *AHEM* this is not conducive to making a parental point.  Thank you.  Thank you very much.

Moving on . . . .

Mid-afternoonish I got a call from a Betty Boop who said, "would you like to come over this fine evening for dinner and help us make the biggest pig-pie mess in all the land?"  And I said, "yes please.  There is nothing more satisfying than to make a rumble-tumble pig-pie mess in somebody elses house."  We rushed our bottoms straight out the door to go be fed.

Lets see . . . we had 16 oz of dumped lemonade all over the table.  That we left for the entire dinner.  Drizzling slowly across the table and down onto the floor and chairs.  We had rib sauce smeared from literally ear to ear.  Not to mention hands.  And hands touch chairs and tables and moms and dads and cups and pianos . . . We had a poor dog who could not resist licking everything in sight.  He even got a bone.  And then bit a finger when the finger tried to get his bone back onto his plate.  Then we had a lot of weeping and wailing. . . . We had regurgitated watermelon the entire length of the dining room.  On the floor.  So where ever you walked, watermelon would smush between toes.  We had rude questions and robot noises.  And the poor babe even got a fleck of rib sauce, by accident - and sang a lovely acapella tune.  It was a long song.

And the whole time, I thought:  this is lovely.  You can not get more piggish then this, and I feel honored that out of all the people Betty Boop knows, she asked the Witherhalls to come and share in this joyous occasion.  Satisfaction. Pleased as punch.

Take Aways
1) Jesus answers prayers - Big D survived the swim.
2) Having pig friends is perfect in every way.
3) Everybody should have at least one pig friend.
4) I have way more than 1 pig friend.  Be jealous.
5) Sometimes I think I'm the grandest tiger in jungle when I get good ideas and they work out.
6) I was talking about my sandbox.
7) (Sister Bear Dr. - stop laughing)
8) The reason I say "sister bear" or "brother bear" - its part joke and part Bernstein bears.