Okay, I’m just going to be honest with you.
I’ve been sitting here trying to write this blog post for the last twenty minutes or so. The things I typed out onto the page are suspicious at best. There was this whole bit about a Sailor appearing out of nowhere and taking us to Margaritaville. A boozy nautical kidnapping if you will. There was an entire paragraph where I described what this margarita would be wearing if it were a super hero. For some reason it had a sombrero made of limes. There were tights. There was a cape. His super powers included staining your clothes and getting you drunk. I don’t even know anymore. This week has been a doozy.
Somewhere between starting this post and the last string of deleted sailor and superhero metaphors, my spirited Golden Retriever managed to find her first mud pit of the season. She usually never comes inside when I want her to, but of course, today, with pride in her eyes and paws full of mud, she charged me. She ran puppy laps around the couch. There were expletives. There were paw prints. There was me, on my knees, scrubbing a carpet and carefully removing chunks of earth from it’s fibers. There was a guilty puppy face. There will be a Friday night steam cleaning party. Continue reading