This weekend, we had the good fortune to be invited to a riverfront cabin in West Virginia to spend the weekend with friends, both human and canine.
We were treated to warm, dry weather, more food than we could eat, cold beer, water only a few degrees cooler than body temperature, and a welcome case of vacation amnesia.
Claddagh the dog showed off her training for the Women’s 500 meter individual medley, rarely leaving the water in favor of chasing dragonflies and herding sticks.
Later, she shipped out for a tour as the first mate of the kayak.
Saturday night we sat around a fire and made s’mores, and I attempted not to ignite our marshmallows into flaming sugar bombs.
Big, big thanks go to Mr. Scout and his lovely wife, who made the whole thing possible. My brain, My wife, our baby, and my carpal tunnel THANK YOU.
Aww, what a nice photo essay of the weekend! Thanks to you guys for making us sit and enjoy the place for once…one of the best weekends we’ve had in a long time! Perhaps next time our conversations can lead to more palatable themes than dog bites and coleslaw!
I long to kiss both those doggies excessively.
Mrs. Scout, if I’m invited, I wouldn’t count on the topics being sanitized. I promise to do my best to talk about kitties and puppies—and maybe some unicorns and rainbows!
Mmmmmmm. Did somebody say coleslaw? I’m hungry.
Tbtine, come on down! I would be happy to talk unicorns with you. We usually cookout over there, but no longer can I stomach the `slaw (too many bad visual images after this weekend). If you promise to bring some good potato salad (or some other food that spawns happy images), consider yourself invited. Afterall, the guac was the only thing that got Bill and Jen their pass.
Hey! I thought it was our sparkling personalities and rapier wit! Damn. Mrs. Idiot (tbtine) makes a mean blueberry pie, if that interests you….
Um, ok. Makes sense she would pick another name other than “Mrs. Idiot”. Tbtine, of course you’d be invited back! Blueberry pie or not! And the little one can come too, tho I think we’ll release him/her from the food requirement…don’t necessarily want to eat anything he/she “makes” for quite a few years!
Yeah, sorry for the confusion, Mrs Scout. My nom de guerre is from a typepad site I’ve not written on for quite some time (tactfullyblunt).