Labor Day

The Rev. is back from dove hunting, but he broke the wife's cardinal rule of hunting and fishing: Yes, Honey, you can go shoot Bambi/catch Nemo, but you must bring back something home to the family. He came home empty handed. He shot his shotgun once, and missed. He claims that the dove that were shot were eaten at the camp, but I have a sneaking suspicion that everybody had bad luck and they sat around the camp fire eating hot dogs and drinking PBR. I only laughed at him for a few minutes.

I am sure most people fired up the grill today as one last hoorah for summer, and we did too. We grilled a pizza though, and I must admit, it was quite tasty. We drank it with a Bogle Petite Syrah, and I would highly recommend it as a nice bottle of red. It's a commercial winery, so be on the lookout for it at your neighborhood liquor store. With cooler weather coming in some parts of the country, it would be good with a pot roast or a beef stew. I would even say a nice plate of spaghetti and meatballs. Of course, we live where it is grilling weather 11 months and 3 weeks out of the year, but I have purchased a pumpkin spice candle to force the feeling of autumn. It covers up the smell of smoke from the grill. If anyone out there wants to make fun of me now for acting like a Californian, please do so directly. Remember, though, that you will have to pry the keys to my SUV out of my cold, dead hands.

We also took a few moments today to fill out our emergency contact card in case an earthquake causes a crack in the earth's crust big enough to swallow our half a house. What disturbed me more than the thought of an earthquake was the picture on the front cover safety manual: six smiling, ethnically diverse children waving cheerfully against a backdrop of houses lying broken amidst the rubble of downed telephone poles and power lines. All they needed was a dog on a leash and one of the kids to be holding a bowl of goldfish.