Where's Nate?

living large in the four-oh-eight. wicked large.


the day after the day after.

The third day of vacation was all about the homefront. I suited up in the aforementioned Haz-Mat suit and tackled the humping chipmunks in my attic. (I think I need to bring in the Doctor Ruth of Attic Fans. Sigh.) Then I mowed a Red Sox logo into the front lawn, in preparation for next week's All Star Game. And I marinated and grilled Lemon Garlic Shrimp. For lunch.

Our neighbors, Phil and Mary, stopped by to invite us over this weekend for drinks and cards. The funny thing is, I figured I'd drink over at their place at some point...with their twentysomething stay-at-home kids.

The old lady at the end of the street finally got rid of the trailer that sat in her driveway for the past two years. And to the delight of light sleepers throughout the 95008 ZIP code, she also released Tweedledee and Tweedledum (the Wonder Dumbass Battle Hounds). In sleepy Campbell--deep in the 408--we call this "progress".

Now if only I could convince the old lady that a garage door isn't supposed to lean against the side of the house. Clap on, clap off.


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