Dear Kid,

While most of the neighborhood was still sleeping, the Puppy and I went for a walk this morning.

You may ask, “What the heck were you doing up at an hour when everyone was sleeping?” Good question since I’d told Dad he couldn’t wake me until 9am (which I thought was a Very Generous Compromise).

The answer is I have no freakin’ idea.

My eyelids sprang open of their own accord this morning. I tried to close them; they refused. I tried to go back to sleep with my eyes open; it didn’t really work.

So I got up.

This pleased the Puppy greatly and we agreed that—after a cuddle—we should go for our morning meander.

The big white dog who rules his side of the fence with an iron bark was still inside (and presumably asleep because we didn’t hear him).

Cobra’s family was up (we could tell because the garage door was open) but even after several minutes of puppy whining Cobra himself was nowhere to be seen.

Roxie’s family was getting ready for another garage sale. They’ve been helping a woman they know clean out her house after her husband died. Roxie’s dad says he feels like he’s in a TV commercial. Every time he thinks he’s done, the woman calls and says, “But wait, there’s more!” and gives him enough stuff for 7 more garage sales. I think he’s truly happy to help but truly done with garage-sale-ness. Roxie was inside, so the Puppy settled for sniffing everything within leash range and graciously allowing (and by “allowing” I mean insisting) that people scratch him.

The big activity this morning is that we are going to have a Vexit. That is, the vine (I'm guessing poison oak) that has now caused poison-ivy-like welts on my face for two summers in a row is being evicted. Well, murdered is more like it. We plan to spray it so it dies down to its roots. DearKidLoveMom.comThe big activity this morning is that we are going to have a Vexit. That is, the vine (I’m guessing poison oak) that has now caused poison-ivy-like welts on my face for two summers in a row is being evicted. Well, murdered is more like it. We plan to spray it so it dies down to its roots. (And as I say “we” and not “me” you are correct to infer that your father is actually helping to spray something dead. Shocking but true. I think it has something to do with the threats I made and the constant whining about the itch. And perhaps looking at a wife with face-bumps.)

Hope you have a great day today!

Love, Mom