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We met with the photographer from the Gazette-Telegraph (our local paper) yesterday. She called during my DUI therapy group (where I'm the therapist, NOT a participant, you wags) so caught me a little off guard and I scheduled the photo session in conflict with Lilly's swimming lessons. That kind of worked out because we'd scheduled to meet at a local park (I barred her from photographing us in my war-torn house) but decided to do the session over at the municipal pool. The uber-sweet photographer promised to forward pics to me and i'll post those as soon as I get them.
In lieu of those pics, I wanted to share this with you:
The kind of fun they're having in NYC and why I need to go....
If I somehow managed to win the Men's Health "All-Star Dad" contest (yes I linked that so you could go and nominate me) and the resulting trip to New York City, I will pony up for tickets to go see "Spamalot" where we'll all have a jolly old time.
Ever since I was 13, I've been a Python Head, when I stumbled across them on PBS. By the time I was in high school, myself and a few other Python geeks would careen through the halls quoting various Python skits verbatim. The measure of esteem in my high school geek-squad was not one's backseat prowess or level of popularity in the social hierarchy but how many Python skits one could cite on cue.
I can imagine my final breaths on my death bed: "I'm not dead yet!"
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"Spam, spam, spam, spam. . . ."
"She's a witch!" "How do you know?" "She LOOKS like one!"
Actually, my kids used to use that last one against me during times of childhood turmoil.
Need I mention that we are all Pythonophiles too?
Now, bring me. . . . a SHRUBBERY!
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