The crazy night singing bird is back, waking me up at 3:00 am. Guuuurrrrrr. Something must be done. I'm thinking of setting little traps for it.
I've been a tad neglectful of the blog as of late because soccer has literally taken over my life.
I have a wee mystery to solve this morning; my hands look like they have tanning cream on them - or more specifically streaks from tanning cream - but I didn't use tanning cream. It's odd. I've racked my little brain to figure out why I have a hand tan. If Carrie lived out here, I'd think it was some kind of prank. But she hasn't had the chance to manage it so it couldn't be that... but how? Spartan and I are a united team and have agreed that future pranks will not be applied to eachother. I can't figure this out. In the meantime I will be using an s.o.s. pad to scrub em.
Reminds me, when my parents were away my mother and their friend were sitting in the cockpit of the boat and the friend (the unic) said... "Can you hear that banging...O...S...O..." What do you suppose that is? My mother shrugs. Some time later - they can still hear it and suddenly my mom says, "You don't suppose Andy is trapped in the bathroom?", the friend ponders this..."O...S...O... you don't think he is banging S.O.S do you?"... my mother goes down into the salon and the banging gets louder... she follows it to the head at the bow of the boat and sure enough - daddio is stuck in the bathroom. He'd been there for some time. He was not amused. O.S.O, what is wrong with you?
(oh yes, and since Carrie is no longer prego - prank season is back on full force this August - any devilish ideas?)