This week marks three weeks to Spartan. This means that I have survived a full week without him. I truly feel that every day that goes by without him where I manage to survive - I should get a trophy. It only seems right ;-)

This weekend ended with a dinner last night at my Grandparent's house. Nan made spaghetti. Enough spaghetti to feed an entire army regiment - but only needed to feed 4. She also decided to spice things up a bit - and the sauce had quite the bite... I think I still have heart burn - or I actually burned a layer of tissue along my esophagus.

During dinner, my Aunt K came in and started telling us about my Grandfathers new pastime; shooting the squirrels with a sling shot to keep them out of the bird feeder. (Papa! You can't do that!) While he was at it last week he shot a clean hole right through the bird feeder - in one side and out the other. Then he taped it back together with scotch tape. We were killing ourselves laughing. (Hope he never mistakes me for a squirrel...) A few minutes later, standing outside on the back porch I feel something watching me. I looked down and there was a young Robin staring at me... so I spoke to it quietly and then reached out and picked it up. Then I went to the door and my Aunt yelled, "Hey Dad. There's a bird here. Wants to talk to you about something you threw through it's window." "No really. It's a real bird. Come see."
He comes around the corner and says - "Oh no. Shouldn't do that. Causes em TrAma." (as opposed to "Trauma") I'm sure that shooting squirrels with A SLINGSHOT doesn't.

PS. Don't worry - I just opened up my hands and the bird flew away peeping. ;-) No trauma evident.