Introducing...

Has It Been a Week Already?

Time flies when you're not blogging.

We made it down to Tampa, FL in one piece and very tired from our 7:00 AM flight. It was so great to see my grandparents and my aunts and uncles, some of which I haven't seen in years.

The weather didn't turn out to be as Floridian as we had hoped, but I still ended up with a sunburn and some sand in my camera and sneakers, so what else can I ask for?

Work has been ultra rough on me lately, so I don't feel like talking about it or any other things, for that matter. Instead, digest these pictures.

Us, on Lido Beach before the wedding:


SURPRISE! A stolen photograph of David:


Our pear tree is blossoming!


Me and Mr. Pear Tree, for posterity:


Some brilliantly-colored hyacinths (we think???), the fruits of some of the bulbs we planted last Fall:


Some unidentified, yet-to-flower bulb things:


Dave, chemically guarding the house from the swarm of insectazoids and spidertrons that will soon invade:

Changes

My darling "Fancyfeet" Cornelius is off of his crutches and re-learning how to walk correctly. I know it's awful, but I'm disappointed that we never got to take advantage of his handicap and use a motorized cart while grocery shopping.

With Dave on his feet again, we are extra motivated to accomplish some goals that are always on the backs of our minds. This includes, but is not limited to: keeping the living room clean, watching less television, eating healthier dinners, and playing more with Sprinkles (OR FEELING HER WRATH).

It's tough, and history will show that we have a 99.9% chance of failing, but we're going to try nonetheless.

This is going to be our time. Time to taste the fruits and let the juices drip down our chins. I proclaim this: The Summer of Cornelius!

Club Foot

The wedding this past weekend was a blast! Unfortunately, I ended up with a ridiculously disgusting looking foot.

I was doing some hyperactive dancing which has been characterized as fancy feet, breakdancing, and retardation. I've had the pleasure of trying to explain this to my coworkers.

For the record, alcohol was not a factor.

Good Times, Good Times

When did "Good times.... good times," become such a catchphrase? I hear people saying it all the time.

We're headed to Pennsylvania for the weekend to attend the wedding of Dave's cousin. I'm looking forward to seeing his family again, and I always love weddings.

I feel terrible for leaving Sprinkles alone in the house again. She's going to hate us even more. Sure, she'll be lovey-dovey when we first get back, but then it's non-stop meowing and butt-wiggling (which she does right before she pounces on us).

I'll be sure to give her a bunch of Greenies before we leave.