Sunday Evening Post

We were given seven more days.

We used them well.

Here they are.

 Nothing like starting off the week with a colonoscopy.  It can give Mondays a whole new meaning.

 A very happy seventh birthday to Jackson.  He entertained us by reading adventurous squirrel tales.

 Our pendant arrived and my wife put it together all by her lonesome.  She takes great pride in her work, but soon after this photo she realizes that it would not fit through the door assembled.  Life's lessons can be cruel at times.

 A statue of Jesus being transported on the back of a truck on the Jersey Turnpike.

 Nothing can motivate you into a new diet than a pig-shaped ice cream log staring you down at the local Dairy Queen.

 Big Red and Little Peanut.

 I do try, but I simply can't resist the temptation to give false names at every turn.  Here is my donation to the 4-H Club, signed "Von Pubes".

 The Friday night lights, high school football.

 Phaedra is off to Canada for a year, so she was sent off with a celebration including all things Canadian.  Here is poutine, which consists of french fries, gravy, and cheese curds.  

Sounds gross.

Looks gross.

Tastes great.

 I ran the Dogfish Head Brewery 5K and made certain that the "losing-est team in baseball" was well represented.  I knew it would be a good day when a stranger welcomed me with "GO BUCS!" and a high-five.

24 minutes / 13 seconds.

Not too shabby for an old guy who detests running.

 Of course, the best part of the race was the end, where beer trumped water at the finish line.

We end the week with Phaedra's end and Canada's

National Anthem.

See you next week.