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Argus asleep on his bed. (2005)
Went with The Boys to The Greenway last nite. Our new thing is that I take the awesome rope leash we bought in Denver a few years ago at REI and I loop it around Sheriff's neck instead of clicking it onto his collar. You see, he can slip out of his new collar pretty easily. So when he gets all scaredy-cat on me and wants to high tail it back to the car, the new leash strategy keeps him close. As you might expect, he's not too crazy about it.
So there we are at The Greenway, headed east toward I-10. Now this is Florida. In July. In the woods. Early evening. With swampy bits of land about. One word should be coming to mind: Mosquitos.
Have you heard about what mosquitos hate about humans? Here's your executive summary: Some of us (like me) are fortunate enough to have just the right genetics to mix up the ratio of smelly chemicals in our sweat so we have natural mosquito repellent. Others (like Candy) do not and probably end up smelling (to a mosquito, that is) like a big juicy steak cooking on the backyard grill, making the whole neighborhood's collective stomach grumble in envious hunger.
BTW, While we're talking about mosquitos, it's worth a shout-out to the new super mosquitos evolving in Athens. No joke, folks. I for one, welcome our new super-mosquito overlords with my smelly sweat and a big jar of citronella oil.
So you know how much good my smelly skin did me at The Greenway yesterday? Not much. I have two words for you: Biting flies. I don't know if these things were pubescent horse flies, sand flies or some new Darwinistic winged arthropod nightmare, but my genetically enhanced smelly sweaty skin didn't do squat when it came time keep these guys at bay.
To which I have a three word summation/retort/complaint: Not enough bats.
I'll see ya when I see ya.
Oh, my cousin Brin is twenty-two years old today. Way to go, Brin!
And my sister-in-law Jody turned thirty-eight yesterday. Way to go, Pixie Hips!
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