3rd time's a charm

Well, the moms were a little more quick on the draw. But, in case you missed it, or just couldn't get enough the first two times... I'll try not to be redundant.

Just in case you missed the pictures of Dave and Sandra on mom's blog.

Mom with a string of purls. And knits.
Dad staring into his future- when he forgets his dentures.

Corey staring into his present.
Tabor staring out the window.

Blow your own glass. Didn't have time to do it ourselves but it was fun to watch!
Sacked. All that staring got to them. (Shauna was staring at me)
A walk in Portlandia with Tabor in the Ergo. Corey was wondering why Tabor kept his head thrown back the whole time. We decided it was because it was the first time he'd been on a walk when it wasn't raining. Look up while you can. Stare at the clouds. You never know what you might learn, or what a bird might drop in your eye. (No worries Danica, didn't happen.)

20 weeks young

Short and to the point. She's quite cute really. But, I might be a bit biased.
This papa's tired. Off to bed. I think it's sympathy weariness.

E5Y.5

  Bad to worse. How, you ask, can the Y be diminished to a mere shadow of its former self? Courtesy of another self-serving, devious Y.
  We spent a delightful, extended new year's eve/day at Duane and Lori's. Two o'clock in the morning snuck up and found us in the depths of some profound discussion. So rousing was this discourse that we found travel to be an overwhelming proposition and instead retreated to guest quarters to sleep off what was left of the night. Having thus offset our sleeping pattern, not a lid lifted until the day was well advanced and, following the same pattern, dusk caught us quite off guard.
  Now, we might have been able to take our leave more promptly had there not arisen a slight complication. For the past few days, a stray dog had been frequenting the Grant's porch. With Bridgette and Scout outside most of the day, this vagabond set her carpet bag down and settled in for a spell. And settle in she did: directly into Brooke's heart.
  I did, for the record, put up as much protest as was reasonable, but, from the moment the troops began to stand in for roll call, it was apparent that the battle was lost. After much diplomacy, responsibility shuffling, protest, excuse me's, and reasoning, the ball fell to the ground on my side of the net. Had the full regiment of Ys presented themselves, the defeat might not have been so decisive. The final act played out thusly: Scout's kennel is far too small for the new dog, and the spare kennel Duane and Lori have is far too large for our little buggy. So, out of the graciousness of his large heart, Duane offered the use of his pickup- we would, after all, be returning to their house for meeting the next morning and it would be no hardship whatsoever. And so the banner fell. Erroneously, I thanked him for letting us use his rig, realizing too late that thanks of no kind was warranted.
  Some day, the battle will return to his castle and my allegiance will be hard won indeed. At present, however, the deck is stacked more thickly against me.
  Anyone know of a good home for a nice, loving, well mannered, soon-to-be-out-of-heat dog? Please?