Mom lives in the boonies of northern Delaware so I’m always the last stop on the airport shuttle from Philadelphia. This time, though, Mom arranged something very cool for me: a private shuttle, which took half an hour instead of two. Here’s my driver with my name on a sign.
As we wound along narrow, dark Pennsylvania back roads I regaled him with tales of these same roads during my reckless youth, when we’d blast around all night drinking beer and singing loud. Turns out he had similar stories.
As we approached the house, even from far away I could see a small backlit mother framed by the door. She’s a cute little thing, and getting littler. Here, she’s telling me about how Katie broke her leg.
And here’s Bruce doing a trick.
[flashvideo filename=wp-content/video/brucie.flv image=wp-content/video/bruce.jpg /]
That Gwanny is awfully cute.
Also, my dog is quite talented. But then, he’s my dog, so how could he not be?