Martini Cartwheels

It is not a hot summer here in Massachusetts. And I have only been in the Wet Spot once since it was opened in May. I decided to bite the bullet and put the pool heater on - where upon doing so, the "service heater" indicator promptly lit up. Maybe the propane is low I thought (where is Propane Amy when I need her?). I called for delivery and expected to see the bill attached to the door. But the bill never materialized. When I called the gas company, they told me the tank was 80% full. Ok, in my defense, the gauge has been stuck since day one. Must be a problem with the heater itself. I then called the pool company to come out and take a look. They did leave a work order, which stated "Turned on gas valve on heater, heater is all set. No charge". More gas than expected, easily turned on, and about to get hot. If I didn't know better, I would say the pool is in menopause.

Note to self: Make sure when you use the word "Account" as a header in a spreadsheet that you remember to include the "o". (Mobile post from iPhone).

I turn my back for one minute and these two jokers think they can just hop on my bike and take it for a spin around the block. That's alright - I know where they keep their Big Wheels. And I'm not going to hesitate to use one of them when I need it.

Turns out it was way too cold to play in the Wet Spot last night. Summer does not seem to want to come to Massachusetts. Hopefully I will get in at least one day this weekend.

I don't know if bears like to shit in the woods but I do know this. Birds love to shit all over my patio. Now how can I enjoy a moonlit skinny dip this evening in the pool if I'm surrounded by poo? I can't. That's why I just spent the past half hour hosing down the Wet Spot area (minds out of the gutters please ladies). And to top it all off, I saw a fox in the yard next door checking me out while I was doing it. And not the two legged variety either. Anyway, feeling much better now that I vented. Now please excuse while I go vacuum the Wet Spot in preparation for tonight's activities. Because no one likes to play in the Wet Spot when it's dirty.

Yes, I fell in the basement last December and hurt my knee. Yes, I fell down the stairs in May and sprained my foot. Yes, I was wearing flip-flops this weekend and caught my pinky toe on a post in the ground that's used to keep the hose from tangling. Yes, I have disability insurance. Why do you ask?

I finally figured out why they are called s'mores. After a few beers, bean dip (with sour-cream and cheese of course), two pieces of pizza, macaroni salad, potato salad, a hamburger, and a cookie, I needed to add s'more inches to my hips and thighs, s'more sugar in my system, and s'more food to go with s'more beers.

This is a picture I took last night of the fire pit at the house of some friends. We all thought that the image on the left side (oops - the other left, also known as right) looked eerily like a face, and what appeared to be an eye particularly stood out. The photo was cropped and the colors enhanced slightly but other than that, there are no edits.

These are pictures from the martini bar at the Mohegan Sun Casino in CT. Notice how the lemon in the martini was calling me. Had I requested an additional twist, I'm sure it would have neatly folded itself into a "J" . Oh you taunt me so.

The young child looked on in horror as Billy admired Blondie's bowls. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times - nothing good ever happens at the Hu Ke Lau after 10:00 pm. Nice volcanoes there Blondie. Just how active is Mt. Scorpion Bowl?