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trystinnWe managed to get the Pavilion set up again, though it looks a bit worse for wear after lying in a lump exposed to the elements. Hopefully the judicious use of the garden hose will restore it to its previous not-quite-glory. Josh almost has the exterior of the shed done, needs to hang doors soonest. With any luck, some cursing, and a lot of hard work, we'll be able to get the counters & shelves built, then installed this weekend. I'm dying to get this done, not only because the guilt-inducing emails from my parents begging us to send pictures of the finished shed, I'm busting at the opportunity to re-arrange the garden shed so I can actually use it! Since buying the house, my charming little garden shed has been packed to the rafters with Josh's stuff and absolutely unusable as a work area.
On other news, Cassanova made another dozen visits while we were out working. Just about every other time we turned around, there he was watching us with his tiny head cocked in confusion at our antics. No one was more surprised than I to see our couch potato Tracker come tearing out the dogdoor, trumpeting the Hunt the whole time (sounded suspiciously like a water buffalo in heat) before thrashing through the bushes with only the white tip of his tail showing. Somehow, Tracker just *knows* when Cassanova is within nibbling range.
I'm beginning to think Cassanova sort of enjoys taunting him, as he leads Tracker on a merry chase all over the backyard, ignoring literally dozens of safe places. Once Cassanova aimed right at me and if I hadn't of twisted away (*owie* knee) he would have ended up in my fleece vest. Poor Cassanova - small hint: If the choice is between being eaten by a basset hound and the possibility of human contact - go for the human. I, at least, promise not to eat you. Tracker will not offer you the same deal.
However, that said, I'm beginning to think either Cassanova is the friendliest wild bun around or we're absolutely surrounded by cottontails.
On other news, Cassanova made another dozen visits while we were out working. Just about every other time we turned around, there he was watching us with his tiny head cocked in confusion at our antics. No one was more surprised than I to see our couch potato Tracker come tearing out the dogdoor, trumpeting the Hunt the whole time (sounded suspiciously like a water buffalo in heat) before thrashing through the bushes with only the white tip of his tail showing. Somehow, Tracker just *knows* when Cassanova is within nibbling range.
I'm beginning to think Cassanova sort of enjoys taunting him, as he leads Tracker on a merry chase all over the backyard, ignoring literally dozens of safe places. Once Cassanova aimed right at me and if I hadn't of twisted away (*owie* knee) he would have ended up in my fleece vest. Poor Cassanova - small hint: If the choice is between being eaten by a basset hound and the possibility of human contact - go for the human. I, at least, promise not to eat you. Tracker will not offer you the same deal.
However, that said, I'm beginning to think either Cassanova is the friendliest wild bun around or we're absolutely surrounded by cottontails.
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Date: 2006-05-27 01:01 pm (UTC)Hey, are the girl buns preggers or not?
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Date: 2006-05-27 05:19 pm (UTC)Will get more pics this weekend, at this point its essentially a construction site!