Hello! It’s me.

You want to see something cute, #amirite?

Here … round out your work week with a closeup of my eye lashes!

I know, totes adorbs.

I asked Dad to take another picture of me, but my eyeballs had rotated 90 degrees and my retina was pointing straight into my cranium and Dad thought that looked creepy, so we’ll spare you of that one, K?

Hello – it’s me!!

That’s me looking to my right … amazed at what is about to happen.

You see, Dad’s been preachin’ about the importance of protecting his head from the damaging rays of El Sol … the sun. He keeps telling me that his once-thick-and-utterly-lush head of hair devolved into a sparse wasteland of stubble occasionally freshened by a lathering of Pert Shampoo. Dad tells me that to protect what is left (#notmuch) he needs to wear a hat.

Then you see him with a hat, and you say to yourself “well, hey, what would happen if my particularly soft head of fur vacated my portly frame?”

In other words, I began to ask for a hat.

My friend Amy came to the rescue … along with treats and toys she brought me a coveted hat. At first, I was stunned by the gesture.

Then I turned to show my appreciation to my dear friend … Amy.

I know, I’m a sharp-dressed man, #amirite?

These are divisive times … Nazi’s are running unfettered through the streets of college towns, Yacht Rock Radio on SiriusXM has too narrow a playlist, and the Chicago Bears still aren’t a very good football team. Amid all the gloom-and-doom, happiness is out there, waiting to be discovered … in the form of a hat.

So, a tip of the hat to my friend Amy, for making the world a better place.

Hello, it’s me!

I am one tired pup, and for good reason. It’s late summer here in the valley, and that means it’s time to go storm chasing!

The winds kick up, and the palm trees shed unwanted baggage.

I like to take a few minutes and make sure all of the trees are still sturdy following big blowers like the one we had last night.

That tree looks sturdy, #amirite?

But that’s not the best use of my time. I’ve been spending a ton of time on my new hot rod … are you ready for this?

Mom and Dad bought me a new hot rod … top speeds over 25mph, street legal, and it handles like a multi-million dollar Formula 1 racer.

I’d write to you more often, but it’s hard to take the time to do that when we’re out cruising, looking for bunnies and chipmunks!

Hello! It’s me.

Dad says we need to take the RV out for a “test ride” to make sure that all of the computer codes suggesting horrific or even catastrophic failure have been cleared.

I’m in!

So we’re off and runnin’ … up to Mortimer Family Farms (click here). This is old-school farmin’, pups, a place where you just walk in and grab yourself a handful of frozen rib steaks and a dozen ears of corn and then swipe your credit card. It’s just that easy!

I mean, the place is filled with wonderment!

Yes, yes, they let pups come in to sample all that is good about nature, fake bunnies included.

They say that family farms are fun for those age two to ninety-two. I agree!

From there, we stopped at a local softball park to take part in our National Pastime … softball. All the pups love to take in a game, #amirite?

After tailgating for a while, I took a seat on Mom’s legs and watched the action.

Then some big thunder-bumpers approached …

I was relegated to viewing the final inning through the RV windshield.

You know, a bit of fam-time in the RV leaves me with a peaceful, easy feeling.

I’ll tell ya, I’m a big-time fan of old-school farmin’ … combine it with a bit of softball and you have the prescription for a fun day!

Hello! It’s me!

Sometimes you’re on the lookout for threats, and they aren’t real, and they aren’t perceived, and they aren’t rusted metals, and they aren’t chupacabras. They’re dusty messes blowing their way toward us.

Um.

So Dad turns on the local CBS affiliate to learn about the impending threat. And they’re pretty mellow about it. So Dad turns on the local FOX affiliate, and naturally, they’ve turned the threat level all they way up to 11, #amirite?

One of the FOX experts states that “it looks like Nuclear Winter is coming” … now let’s be honest, how many of us have sat on the sidelines and watched as a gentle Nuclear Winter blows in?

Dad calls Mom … Mom says “I can see it!”

Now the race is on … will Mom make it home safely? I crossed my toes (#itsasomewhatuncomfortablefeeling) and hoped for the best.

I could sense that Mom was getting close to being in the hood. Hopefully the dust didn’t get under the hood!

That’s tumbleweed blowing by, in case you were wondering!

I could hear Mom coming home through the through blow of the haboob.

She turned the corner and headed for the driveway.

Still, I didn’t trust that Mom would make it on her own. I told Dad, “Why not videotape her return, to prove that she makes it safely?” So he did just that … and Mom arrived as the storm peaked (visit the website to see it if the video doesn’t show up via email).

We watched as the storm matured …

… and then died as the sun set.

It almost seems like this stuff is gonna happen daily in the summer …

Hello, it’s me!!

At first I was terrified by the thought of Monsoon Season. And who could blame me? Sunday night, the phone starts blaring something about a dust storm.

I mean, anytime you get an alert on your phone requesting that you “Stay Alive” you have to at least be a little bit concerned, #amirite?

Turns out the dust storm was 60 miles south of us.

I have bigger concerns. See if you can find the hidden threat in this image …

We have big news … Mom and Dad ordered a Rebuilt Golf Cart!! Some dude tears down a used vehicle to the chassis, and then rebuilds it up from there. It should be here in early August. Until then, we have a loaner cart that I’m dashing all over the neighborhood in. Though as you can see, I’m not thrilled with 18mph top-speed cruising rates.

With the cart, I am offered additional opportunities to assess threats … this threat is perceived, for instance.

But this threat … this threat may be real, and may include another dust storm.

I guess the moral of the story is this … stay vigilant!

Hello! It’s me.

He arrived, proclaiming … “I HAVE YOUR STUFF!”

Where are my toys? WHERE ARE MY TOYS?

I don’t see my toys. I DON’T SEE MY TOYS!

Mom says my toys are in boxes … somewhere. I retreat, dismayed.

And then, just when all hope seemed to be lost … I am told that box #83 possessed my toys!

I lose patience … WHERE ARE THEY? They should be here by now, #amirite?

And then … ahhhhhhh … toys!

There’s no better way to spend a 114 degree day than with toys … and a hundred nearly emptied boxes.

Hello. It’s me!

Here’s the 411 … when it is 109 degrees out and my little feet can be scorched by hot surfaces, something has to give. That something, of course, is Dad driving me to grass to perform my late-afternoon duties.

So I finish browsing my Reader’s Digest and next thing you know Dad is hopping around like a mad man, scratching his ankle. The conversation goes something like this:

Dad: Ow. OW!

Dash: ‘sup dude?

Dad: They’re going into my sock.

Dash: Huh?

Dad: It’s like they’ve created a highway up my leg.

Dash: By “they” do you mean mini-chupacabras?

Dad: Then they split off. Some keep going up my leg, some go down into my sock. OW! Ow. Jesus.

Dash: Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.

Dad: They’re fire ants. This burns!

Dash: I’m outta here.

Dad was being attacked by little nibblers known as fire ants. Or something like a fire ant. It makes for a better story if we take his account at face value, #amirite?

Take a peek.

I mean, who walks around with six sets of two toes?

I’d bite something if I was born like this.

Needless to say we got the heck outta there.

Hello! It’s me.

That’s me, getting ready to board a ferry to head to Arizona last week. There was so much optimism, so much excitement, so much anticipation.

But when you go on these trips, there are guidelines … things to take into consideration.

I enjoy heart-healthy advice as much as the next pup, #amirite?

Turns out area volcanoes heeded the advice as well. No smoking at any of the peaks we passed.

There’s a lot of pressure inside those domes … and we learned that there’s a lot of pressure inside of tires when you drive at a high speed in 115 degree temperatures. Somewhere in the Mojave Desert, we ping’d a CHECK TIRE SYSTEM warning light. Dad checks tire pressure … 43psi … we’re close to poppin’ the tires here! He deflates each time and tries to reset the warning lights … the tires are deflated but the warning lights won’t go off. He grumbles something about non-stop tire and warning light problems. Here’s my response.

I mean, Mom tried to get me to go to the bathroom outside, but it was 115 degrees and the wind was out of the Southwest at 115 miles per hour … not exactly conditions commensurate with a typical tinkling process.

Back in the air-conditioned comfort of a ten year old car with a failing digital tire measurement system, I hunkered down for the remaining 300 miles on our trip to Arizona.

Sometimes, the heat would get to me.

Are we there yet?

I decided I wasn’t thrilled with Arizona after we entered the state and got gas … and while getting gas, I learned it was 122 degrees.

122 degrees.

That’s 12*10 + 2.

That’s sixty degrees warmer than when it is 62 degrees. It’s the same distance away from 62 degrees that 2 degrees is from 62 degrees.

I started to think about what 10 weeks of hot temperatures might mean to me. I decided to not think about it!

With warning lights blaring, we arrived at our home outside of Phoenix … my worries about temperature heights were alleviated … it was a chilly 114 degrees when we arrived.

One thing about the Phoenix area … a dearth of ferns.

But I did chase a gecko across a searing-hot paved surface (#needbootstoprotectmydelicatepads) yesterday, so I am making the adjustment to my new surroundings.

And with that, our trip across the West is over. We’re in our home, now. No more rusted metal threats to evaluate in rural areas.

No more having to use my namesake to cleanse the car.

And certainly no more twelve-hour days sitting in a car.

From here on out, it’s fun in the sun!!

Hello! It’s me.

A quick update … here’s the 411 on the events of today.

Issue #1:  We begin the day with a “low tire pressure” message. After Dad cussed like a drunken sailor for ten or fifteen minutes, a gas station attendant pointed Dad to a Les Schwab Tire center 1.1 miles down the road, where the problem was solved within a half-hour (hint – it was a nail). After getting back in the car, Mom asked Dad how he would behave in the future during stressful situations. I giggled – it’s fun to see Dad humbled, #amirite?

Issue #2: 600 miles later, we pull into Tulare, CA and visit a Best Western (#petfriendly). For some reason, Dad says, and I quote “We’re getting in the lobby before that other car, there might only be one room left.” Dad pulls into a parking spot, runs to the lobby door, and then mysteriously opens the door for the lady in the other car. She waltzes through the door. She asks if there are any rooms available. The staffer says “You are in luck, there is only one room left.” Dad looks at the staffer and says, “Seriously?” The staffer says “Yes.” Dad says “But I just held the door open for that woman.” The woman looks at the staffer and says “I’ll take the room.”

Now, we finally got a room – on our sixth try at a sixth hotel – and that was the last room in the inn as well.

So here is what Dad wants me to ask you.

Quiz Question:  What should Dad have done in this situation? What is a responsible Christian solution to this problem?

(a) Dad should have opened the door for the woman and let the chips fall where they may … even if it meant Dad didn’t get the last room at the hotel.

(b) Dad should have walked into the hotel first (rudely impeding the woman who should have received a gentlemanly introduction into the hotel and thereby received first dibs on the final available room) and taken the room in an effort to “provide” for his family (aka “me”).

(c) Dad should have opened the door for the woman and then after learning that there was only one room left Dad should have thrown a fit and acted like a baby in an effort to acquire the room for his family, much like he did earlier this morning when greeted with a flat tire.

(d) Dad and Mom should have split a six-pack of Schlitz and then slept overnight in the car.

Leave your choice in the comments section.