Owie.

I actually went to see one of my husband's shows last night. Had lotsa fun. Didn't stay out too terribly late and had a really good time with a Facebook friend who is now a "real" friend. Funny how that works. It's kinda like online dating.......not that I'd know of course, having been with my damn husband since before the internet was invented (word up Al Gore), but it's how I imagine it. You talk to somebody online, they seem really cool but in the back or your mind you're wondering if they're actually a wierdie. In this case, my instincts were correct and this person is way cool. As is her husband. So that worked out. Fun, fun, fun, blah, blah, blah. Got home and relieved a sleepy 18-year old manny (word up Big C.....lotsa words up today) and went to bed. I woke up and noticed there was Neosporin on the counter. Jack always has been and remains to this day quite the band-aid freak so I assumed the wind blew the wrong way and he was egregiously injured and required minor medical attention. Oh no. That's not what happened. Jack woke up and said, "Mom, mom!!!! You won't believe what THAT thing (points at Grady) did to the Big C!" Can't wait to hear this. "He wasn't looking and Grady came flying over the couch (told ya he can fly.....Air Grady) and scratched C all down his side and he was bleeding all over the place and we had to wrap him up in toilet paper and that's why the Neosporin was out". Okay, as much fun as I had last night, I sincerely thing that sticking around for THIS show might have been just as good. The manny, wrapped in toilet paper and clinging to life as Jack attends to wounds inflicted by a flying dog. Huh. Why go out? I should start selling tickets to this circus.