It's been quite a while since we've blogged and that's because I have been suffering from what a shrewd clinical mind would be able to identify as a dual-diagnosis of writer's block and laziness. But since I know how desperate you are to be let in on the picayune details of our lives, I'll write even in the absence of something clever to say (for examples of this format, see all previous blog entries).
Let's start at the very beginning, since my childhood governess always drilled into me that that's a very good place to start.
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| Smolen children with their governess circa 1990. I am small Aryan boy in lederhosen at far left. |
At the end of June, Nicholas and I ventured out west to New Mexico and then San Francisco. In New Mexico we attended Sarah and Joe's wedding. Sarah made a beautiful bride and Joe stood up well to my intermittent threats of grievous bodily harm.
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| Newlyweds |
The party was a blast and, as always, the Smolen girls kept it classy.
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| Molly and I kept our Daisy Duck undies hidden until later in the evening |
After the wedding we hit up the city by the bay. Because Nicholas had never been to San Francisco before, we took in all of the beautiful sights that the city has to offer:
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| Viansa Winery |
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| Muir Woods |
And we had the wonderful opportunity to see one of San Francisco's true natural wonders...THE BUSHMAN!
For those of you not in the know, the Bushman is a homeless man who hangs out by the wharf and hides behind two large pieces of shrubbery only to jump out at unsuspecting passersby. Obviously, this man is totally insane (Read: I'm totally jealous that I didn't come up with it first).
We got back to Cleveland in time to celebrate our first Clevelanniversary. Clearly this is something that we'd like to commemorate because Cleveland is a beautiful city and not--I repeat, not--a swirling vortex of despair.
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| Not sure if this supports or negates the idea of Cleveland as a hell dimension... |
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The only other thing that merits mentioning is the story of the cat that we rescued from our neighbor's garage in June. One day as we driving home from running errands, we got a call from our neighbors, who explained that there was a cat stuck in their garage and they figured that since we were cat owners, we might be able to help them get the poor animal out. So, like any true animal lovers and humanitarians
we went and helped to remove the cat from the Curtis' garage. But we couldn't just leave this sweet little tabby on the streets without helping him to find his original owner. In truth, we were taken in by his Jamie Hyneman whiskers...
...and his huge cat balls
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| Yes, we have a picture...and judge not lest ye be judged | (I'm judging you anyway) |
So we called him "Jon Fielding" and kept him in the garage and backyard while we tried to find him a family. And, just like their namesakes, Tolliver was quickly enamored of Jon Fielding.
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| If we ever re-home them, it will have to be to the Cats-tro |
We figured it would be easier to find Fielding a home if we had his massive pouch potatoes harvested. So, Fielding now sings soprano and we're no closer to finding him a forever home.
For those of you who say we now have 5 cats, I want you to know that I reject your reality and substitute my own.
Besides, remember how we always had 5 cats?
Summer has sped by and now we're really starting to put our noses to the grindstone. Nicholas has started studying for his boards.
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| ...It's going well (?) |
I'm still selling underwear at the mall, which has been a learning experience...what I've learned is that poor people really like to steal moderately priced undergarments and lounge wear. To prep for the school year, I've started reviewing a ton of psychiatric theory.
Editor's Note: If watching 8 and half seasons worth of Frasier can count as reviewing psychiatric theory.
