Sunday, March 05, 2006

Our Lazy Sunday

It didn't look much like this, actually. Mama got up at about 6:30 to feed Barky, then we did all curl up for another little while before getting up for good, and we've been up and running since then.

We started off after coffee by running down to the dog park, which, we were surprised to discover, was full. Barky showed off as soon as we got there by tearing around several times before going about his regular dog park behavior: sniffing up things that he shouldn't eat, then hoovering them before we could get to him. Fun for all.

The best part of the morning came soon after Don, the mayor of the dog park, showed up with his dog, Camus, and Mike's dogs, Rex and Sable. He soon got Rex, Sable, the huskies, the samoyed, and a tall hound howling. They all went on for several minutes, with great enthusiasm and some harmony. Of course Barky was busy with some scent that was wandering around on the wind, so he couldn't be bothered to lend his beautiful bay to the chorus.

Then, about five minutes later, the ambulance that is stationed in the firehouse up the street fired up and pulled out. By the time it roared past the dog park, the chorus was one again in full voice. This time, there was much harmonizing, and even a bass line as the samoyed tailed off many of his howls with a little satisfied growl.

After one last sesson of tearing around the park at breakneck speed--that was Barky, not us--we headed home. At home, it was us, not Barky who were running around. Mama headed out grocery shopping while I worked on equally exciting chores around home, like laundry. It wasn't exciting, but it was tiring.

By the end of the day, we were both ready to veg out to some TV, catching up on Antiques Roadshow and the Colbert Report before the Oscars came on. By the time they did, however, it was 8, which turns out to be past the bedtime of expectant parents.

We had enough energy to take Barky out for a stroll, during which we discussed what having Baby Boy Bradstein will be like. After half an hour of discussing it (interrupted only by the need to pick up poop and dodge the Comcast cable van--VA plates ending in 000 [first two characters T8?]--that nearly ran us down, cutting us off to race through a left hand turn when we were already 3/4 of the way across the street, passing so close to all of us--pregnant Mama, Barky, and myself, that I could have reached out and touched it) we still have no ideas about what it will be like. According to what everyone has told us, that's a good thing, since there's apparently no way to predict how much and in what ways our lives will change when BBB arrives.

And now, Mama's "reading" (read: sleeping) in bed, while I type this, sitting on the couch with Barky, who's curled up like a cinammon roll, back feet tucked under his snout, leaving us about where we started.

The only thing for me to do now is head into bed, where I'm sure that I'll sleep like a baby...say, speaking of sleeping like baby...


  1. Anonymous1:47 PM

    Hey our dawg park has no mayor!!!!

    And all this tying in of squiggle letters to prove I am not a spammer to eblogger is getting tiresome.

  2. We not only have a mayor, but also a vice-mayor, who is, unfortunately, recovering from surgery for a perforated ulcer, according to Da Mayor, which is why Don had Mike's dogs at the park, although it's not unusual for them to bring each other's dogs.

    I'll get rid of the squiggles as long as the spam stays reasonable.

    Just for you, King. (Though, I've had to enter them too . . .)

    See, I can change. I can play nice. Must be that having a kid is messing with my head, huh?

  3. Anonymous4:15 AM

    Ahh I didnt know you control the squiggles!!! U can put them back I will get a Blogger ID myself!!! I really hate spam and I dont wish it upon you! Lots of these tonite!!!!

  4. No worries, King. Seriously, there are about three regular readers, and I'm not getting spammed since I took that off. I got a bunch initially, so I put it on. If you got a blogger account, they'd probably spam you...