Well, the Labor Day weekend was pretty much a success. On Friday I didn't do a whole lot (except stop by and visit with Jay). Saturday I took Cassidy to Barton Creek for some swimming, and Saturday night I had a few beers with Crackbass and watched the comings and going across the street at the Whorehouse. We played with the 4 wiener dogs who were staying at the Wilson house (2 guest wieners, plus Max and Lucy) while watching the cops argue with our neighborhood madame. On Sunday I went on a tubing trip with Kim and Sigmund and Rosa and Nathan and Lee and John and many other friends of Team Bloom. It was mucho fun, and Steanso drank quite a bit of beer. Since we had no radio on the river, we filled the musical void by singing drunken renditions of classic songs originally performed by such respected artists as Bonnie Tyler and Tiffany. Rosa and Nathan rode back to town with me and we stopped for barbecue, but there was very little singing. A hung over and exhausted Steanso stumbled through the door of the Hop-A-Long Lounge after the tubing trip only to find a message from Crackbass stating that he had suffered some unexpected difficulties at his house (it's a long story, but it involved a missing cat named Radar and Crackbass's panicked mother), and that his fajita dinner soiree that night needed to be moved to my house. I grumbled a bit, but agreed, and Crackbass came over and helped me straighten up my casa. An hour or so later I was drunk and happy again and people were eating fajitas at my house. The fajita dinner was fun, as well, and hopefully everyone had a good time. Rami even made me a drink or two (and boy, can that little elf scarf down some whiskey- dear lord!).
Sunday I had lunch with the Wilsons and Kelly and Sunday evening we had a pretty good Mono E practice.
Today I had a few cases in court, and now tonight I have Crack practice.
I'm having a good time watching all of these polticians try to dodge questions about what went wrong following Hurricane Katrina. I'm sure that all of the federal authorities will try to slowly shift the blame back to the local officials in Louisiana (even after they cut federal funding which was supposed to support the New Orleans flood control infrastructure). Anyway, they're scattering like roaches.
One last little anecdote to brag on my dog- on Saturday when I was down by Barton Springs with Cassidy, I ran into this little group of hippie girls who I periodically see down there, and they all remembered Cassidy because apparently they have decided that she is a "magical" dog. Now these girls all seemed really high, but they made me smile, especially when they explained that Cassidy was magical mostly because she has only three legs and yet still always seems to be having a lot of fun. I tried to point out that Cassidy doesn't know any better, but they would have none of it. Apparently she still impressed them with her "use what you've got" philosophy. Anyway, it was funny, and I do think that Cassidy is a pretty darn cool dog. I have met lots of people because of that dog, and she is willing to try just about anything. Sometimes she falls down, but her real magic is in the fact that she never lets her little accidents make her upset or get her down (and trust me, dogs, including Cassidy, are definitely capable of pouting). And Cassidy's positive attitude is not because she's just too stupid to know better. She will sometimes look at me when I ask her to do things (like jumping over concrete walls or climbing slippery creek banks) as though to say, "You gotta be kidding me...", but she's almost always willing to try things out with a teensy bit of coaxing, and usually to successful effect. She's too busy trying to have fun with other people and dogs to spend much time sulking or being afraid of anything. And in that, I may, in fact, have a magic dog. Ok. I'm done bragging.