Stonewash in Vogue

Friday. This afternoon I'm putting the second stone-coat on the porch. If I get the second coat on today, then John can apply the sealer on Sunday. I don't feel that great, but if I don't want to be the one to apply the sealer (I don't), the stone has to be finished today. The only catch is that I can't do it until after I take Jessica to work. That's fine. I've run the meds and some fluid, changed into my Huck Finn shorts. I'm good to go.

It's hot. And I'm putting this stone coat down quickly. Like my Mom would say, I was working. Got a good rhythm and pattern to doing it. Risers looks great. Very pleased with how they came out. Just about done. There, done. Stand back to admire. The product was different than I expected, but it looks good.

What's this? Rain? Should be ok. It's barely a sprinkle and the stone coating will be fine as long as it doesn't rain into the porch, i.e. to the south. Not too worried. Putting the tools away, and now it's pouring. It's a deluge and its hammering the door which means it is, in fact, raining into the porch. Towards the south. And the windows are down on the car. And the windows are open in the house. I've got to go around the house in through the sliding door. And back out. I'm soaked.

It's toast. The porch is washed out. The risers? Don't even ask. Darn it! Darn it! Darn it! Fifteen minutes and the rain is done, the sun is out. I'll see what it looks like after it dries. Maybe stonewash is making a comeback.

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Is the Dog in the House?

The dog got out of the yard the other day. Around 12:30. Do a quick check inside the house, slide open the cheese drawer in the fridge and take the lid off the bucket of treats. When that doesn't bring him out, I know he's not at home.
Outside, I look for clues of which direction he went: no tires screeching, I don't think he ran across the road, but then again, it's a really hot day in Suburbia, so there's not much traffic. No dogs barking at all, so either nobody in the neighborhood has their dog out, or he's farther than I think. It's been less than 5 minutes since the search began.
We split up: Andrew takes the path across the road, David, our neighbor, rides down the street, Annette, another neighbor, follows the path on our side of the street and I take the ground below her at the creek.
"Buddy. Buddy" Four different voices. Four different whistles.
I hear a jingle. Sounds like his tags. Other side of the creek. Where is the safest spot to jump across the creek? There. Did it. That jingling noise belongs to the dog being walked by a boy named Shawn. He tells me that Buddy was following them until he and his Grandma's dog ran down the bank to the creek. So I go up the bank to the park. There's a picnic going on at the Natural Garden. [Well, all the plants are gone now, so it's really just a sandy area surrounded by log benches, but I still think of it as the natural garden.]
Two adults, six children...one boy, around 3 years old is crying. I'm just about to ask them if they've seen a fat, black dog when one of the girls calls out, "Hey, we've got your dog!"
As if on cue, Buddy raises his head and a space is made in the circle that had surrounded him, and here he is. Once he's on leash, I go over to say thanks and find that Buddy has squished all the juice boxes and eaten the crackers the toddler had in his hand. No juice, no crackers, 95 degrees, I'd probably cry, too.

Take the dog home. Put some juice boxes, and some water, and a box of snack crackers in a bag. Back to the park to replace the lost food. And we're all good.

If you plan a picnic at Munn's Creekk Park, the biggest pest isn't the ants; it's Buddy.

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The Princes of Malibu

Normally, this isn't the type of show I watch on TV. I was cruising the dial looking for something that was mindless. We had just ended an absolutely brutal Pinochle game. I was feeling pretty crummy before my -87 score! I stopped on The Princes of Malibu. I recognized David Foster and stayed tuned in.
Funny show. Not funny in an Arrested Development - way, but the antics on Princes are just so dumb, it's funny. Here's what happened: David Foster had Brody's Escalade towed because the 23 yr old had parked in "his spot" again. Not so outrageous, then you learn he had it towed to Phoenix! From Malibu to Phoenix! So then Brody retaliates by flying to Vegas with his brother and friend on D.F.'s plane. They run an enormous tab under the pretense of being with D.F. But the truth is uncovered by the Concierge and the boys have to pay for their shenanigans. Brody wonders how D.F. is going to react when they get home.

Brody's friend says, "What? Are you afraid of the guy from Canada who plays the piano?"

Follow up: I guess it was just that particular episode, matched with my mood or something. I've seen the show since then, and it's really terrible television!

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