Barf
Barf barf barf. Squirt squirt squirt. Deoji is sick. I do not like it when big white dogs get the squirts. Last night wasn't too bad, but the night before was horrible. So bad that Tom slept in the yard with Deoji so that he could be sick all he wanted without feeling scared and alone (he does not usually sleep in the yard--Deoji or Tom). West Nile be damned!
One of my dad's friends has already had West Nile this season, before it broke big in Louisiana. She had an achy body, nausea, and a terrible headache--so bad that she couldn't think straight to speak clearly. After a week or so out of work she got better. We all now know that she had West Nile--an unreported case. Reported cases of West Nile in Louisiana = 100+. Unreported? I'd say at least as many. Deaths = about ten. The good news is (supposedly) after you have West Nile you are immune and can't get it again.
On a completely different note, there is a little neighborhood pool in my neighborhood. I've never been a good swimmer because I had a trauma at swimming lessons when I was 6 and now cannot go underwater without holding my nose. So, Tom wanted to go to the pool and I said I'd go with him and we had a nice afternoon, but Tom couldn't teach me much about how to be a better swimmer when I had one hand glued to my nose. And so do you know what? He bought me the most thoughtful gift! The gift that I have needed all my life so I could learn to swim better! Noseplugs. Nobody has ever thought to give me noseplugs before. In fact, somewhere along the line, someone (probably an overzealous swim teacher) filled me with propaganda about how they don't work. But, as you surely all know, they do. Now I'm learning how to dive. Dive! I would never have thunk it. Maybe one day I'll get over my childhood fear of drowning via water-shooting-up-the-nose, but not this summer.
Uh oh. The big white dog just farted and now I'm on alert. Ya know, I know exactly why the Greyhound bus people named their bus line Greyhound. Popular opinion holds that it is because the busses are fast, like greyhounds. This is only partially correct. You know that sound that busses make when they're getting ready to pull away from the curb? That big "pssshooosh" sound? And the accompanying stinky smell of exhaust? That's the rest of the reason.
Barf barf barf. Squirt squirt squirt. Deoji is sick. I do not like it when big white dogs get the squirts. Last night wasn't too bad, but the night before was horrible. So bad that Tom slept in the yard with Deoji so that he could be sick all he wanted without feeling scared and alone (he does not usually sleep in the yard--Deoji or Tom). West Nile be damned!
One of my dad's friends has already had West Nile this season, before it broke big in Louisiana. She had an achy body, nausea, and a terrible headache--so bad that she couldn't think straight to speak clearly. After a week or so out of work she got better. We all now know that she had West Nile--an unreported case. Reported cases of West Nile in Louisiana = 100+. Unreported? I'd say at least as many. Deaths = about ten. The good news is (supposedly) after you have West Nile you are immune and can't get it again.
On a completely different note, there is a little neighborhood pool in my neighborhood. I've never been a good swimmer because I had a trauma at swimming lessons when I was 6 and now cannot go underwater without holding my nose. So, Tom wanted to go to the pool and I said I'd go with him and we had a nice afternoon, but Tom couldn't teach me much about how to be a better swimmer when I had one hand glued to my nose. And so do you know what? He bought me the most thoughtful gift! The gift that I have needed all my life so I could learn to swim better! Noseplugs. Nobody has ever thought to give me noseplugs before. In fact, somewhere along the line, someone (probably an overzealous swim teacher) filled me with propaganda about how they don't work. But, as you surely all know, they do. Now I'm learning how to dive. Dive! I would never have thunk it. Maybe one day I'll get over my childhood fear of drowning via water-shooting-up-the-nose, but not this summer.
Uh oh. The big white dog just farted and now I'm on alert. Ya know, I know exactly why the Greyhound bus people named their bus line Greyhound. Popular opinion holds that it is because the busses are fast, like greyhounds. This is only partially correct. You know that sound that busses make when they're getting ready to pull away from the curb? That big "pssshooosh" sound? And the accompanying stinky smell of exhaust? That's the rest of the reason.
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