Never, EVER, leave a fully charged camera within the reach of a child or this just may happen to you.......
Friday, February 13, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
Reunited and it feels so good...
Pancho had the dubious honor of attending a Boston T Party today. That would be a Boston "T" as in terror---I mean terrier--Party. Pancho was reunited with his mom, Sophie (on the right), and his little brother, Jett (middle) for a little play time.
You'll have to forgive the blurry pictures. These three were a flurry of black and white fur and wouldn't hold still for a decent family portrait.
This is his mom, SophieAnd this is his little brother, Jett, doing what little brothers do--sticking out his tongue for the camera. Jett is just a little round dude. Pancho is bigger and leaner than both Jett and Sophie.
Poor Pancho....he has a potty problem and had to wear a doggy diaper during his play date. I'm sure his little brother had plenty to say about that!I think these three must have had a great time together. By the time we rounded up Pancho and loaded him up in the truck, he crawled in the back seat and fell right to sleep.
Monday, February 2, 2009
It was a SUPER party
We had treats..
We had the deep fryer all fired up for some wings..
We had a super Steelers fan all dressed up for the occasion...We had our mascot (Buster, not Pancho)We had a little illegal child gambling....
We had an awkward moment where Pancho tried to make-out with Tiffany...
We watched some commercials...
We even watched a little bit of football..
But, by far, the best part of the night...... Hubba-hubba!
We had the deep fryer all fired up for some wings..
We had a super Steelers fan all dressed up for the occasion...We had our mascot (Buster, not Pancho)We had a little illegal child gambling....
We had an awkward moment where Pancho tried to make-out with Tiffany...
We watched some commercials...
We even watched a little bit of football..
But, by far, the best part of the night...... Hubba-hubba!
Just watching Bruce Springsteen made me want to run down to the basement and retrieve my life sized Bruce poster (not that I had one) and pull out my Bruce Springsteen scrapbook (not that I made one). It took me right back to 1987 and I was a brace-faced, bespeckled, gangly gal who was getting all gushy over the Boss all over again.
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