It's A Trip.

We have a new addition to the family. We got a puppy.
The decision to get another dog came about when we saw that Cheyenne doesn't chew things as much when she has someone with her while we are gone. The websites call it separation anxiety.
Josh found a family that had a litter of twelve puppies they were trying to adopt out and he picked us out one.
At first I was feeling a little left out when I didn't get the chance to pick out our own puppy, but now that I've met her I have to admit that he made the perfect choice. She's the sweetest, most mild mannered dog in the world. She always wants to cuddle with someone and she's kind of a wuss. When the neighbor's dog barks she runs away to be held and comforted by someone.
She is ten weeks old, black with three gray paws and a white marking on her chest that looks like a cartoon ghost. She also has some gray on her chin. Josh said she's half German Shepherd and half Chesapeake, whatever the hell that is.
We named her Trip because she has the three gray paws and if she isn't falling over her own feet, then someone else is falling over her. Yes she is forever underfoot.
I had forgotten how nice it was to have my kids all grown up. This puppy helped me realize how easy my day to day life had become. It's like having a toddler in the house again.
She chews on anything she finds, including people, and she is constantly getting into places that are almost impossible to get out of. I spend most of my time following her around making sure she's not getting into something she shouldn't be. The only reason why I have time to blog is because she's sleeping after exhausting herself by playing with Cheyenne.
We're trying to raise her right, we already have one dog that thinks the leash is a torture device, so I've been taking her with me to walk the boys to and from school. It also helps to get her used to lots of different people. I want her to be a nice dog to everyone. I'm not the only parent that walks their kids to school with a dog, but I think we have the youngest one so she is the star. Kale and Phoenix love showing her off and have been pretty good about letting the other kids pet her and they are very enthusiastic about walking her and making sure she has food and water.
The one major problem I have is the potty training. I understand that she's just a baby, but I HATE cleaning up bodily fluids. We're working on it. She's only been with us for two days so I think after another few days she'll start understanding what I'm trying to teach her.
Later
BD

It's a PORT KEY!

Amoo and I have noticed something strange. For many months, probably a year, there has been a specific piece of trash placed in the same spot every single day.
When you drive to my, and Amoo's, work you have to go under three railroad bridges. Each bridge has a pillar in the middle of the road separating the lanes of traffic. Just before the first pillar there is always and empty Pepsi can in the road almost touching the pillar.
It's always there!
Amoo and I have a need, more like involuntary compulsion, to run over every can visible on the road so we know the can has been replaced every day with a new, unsquashed one.
At first it was just curious. We would joke that there must be some kids drinking soda under the bridge at night, or something. But it's only ever been one can. And why the hell would a person put it in the same spot every day?
Yesterday was different.
There were three Pepsi cans and there was the weirdest person picking them up with tongs. First of all, why tongs? Most people who pick up trash have a stick with a nail at the end or that long grabber thingie with the pincers at the end. This guy had a pair of hot dog tongs. WTF?
Secondly, this man was dressed very strangely. He had on a neon orange hat, like the ones men wear when they go hunting. He also had on a blue hoody with a business suit vest over it, and the worst pair of plaid golfing slacks I've ever seen in my life.
Now, doesn't that sound like a wizard trying to pass himself off as a muggle?
The evidence is compelling.
And why wasn't he letting his skin touch the innocent pepsi cans? Because it's a port key and he didn't want to be transported to wherever it lead.
Another point.
These railroad tracks are right next to a natural gas refinery, or something like that, called 'Suncor.' Natural gas my butt!
This place always smells like brimstone and has huge smoke stacks belching fire at all hours every day.
What if they really have dragons in there? It would explain the smell and the fires. Maybe it's a hatchery.
Maybe underground it's the 'Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.'
The whole thing is a conspiracy, I tell you! Hopefully I can post this blog before the American division of the 'Ministry of Magic' catches up to me and obliviates all my suspicions away. If this post suddenly disappears, you'll know why.
Later
BD
P.S.
Anyone retarded enough to think I'm being serious needs mental help and should seek the nearest medical care providers.
It's just a joke, DUMB ASS!