So we took our dog Pepper to the vet to have a look under his cast. Remember he broke his leg two weeks back? Turns out he has sores on his leg. It got wet under the cast. So we're putting him up where he can heal and monitored. Then we had to prepare for his arrival home on Friday. There's a kennel and stuff for him. The doctor told us we have to keep him as still as possible. Right... He's a puppy! They have him sedated at the animal hospital and I think we're going to have to keep him drugged up when he gets home. I'm really not sure about this guys. So we're doing this for him now, and he'll be better later? We'll see...

My youngest returned from spending the summer with her grandparents. Everyone had a great time and all my girls are under one roof. This means one thing: summer is basically over. My older two have been attending flag corps practice at the high school for a week now. It's worse for my sister. All of her children have moved out. My nephew is going to live in Alaska. One neice is moving to California while the other stays in town and goes to college.
Where did the summer go?
I suppose I could still sneak off and get some fishing done.
So here is one of my girls doing what they do best.

Steph with an ABC fish. Already been caught

Kayleigh modeling.

She is smarter than you and knows it.

Don't they look gorgeous? And in answer to your next question. I may not own a gun, but I am pro knife. There are a few swords around here too.

This morning before I left for my Clark Kent job, I noticed something. Danielle Corsetto wants to do a cross-country book signing for her web comic, Girls With Slingshots. In her comments section she wanted fans to give a shout-out for their city, in hopes she can come visit.
http://www.girlswithslingshots.com/
Of course I would love to have her come and be a guest at our con here in town. Right after I posted my plea to grace us with her presence, it was echoed by a few other San Antonians. In my shameless plug, I invited her to come meet our deaf gamers. Certainly I qualify for that, but what about others in the deaf community in the area?
My goal here is two fold. I would like the artist who created GWS to visit, but I also want to bring some gamers over to my house for regular sessions. And why not? Running a game in sign language would really be a challenge, am I up for it? Maybe.
So Danielle please come to San Antonio. It would mean so much to me and my friends. I plan on shamelessly plugging and begging. I will put you up at my house, I will cook for you. I will see that you are entertained while staying here in our city.

Promising yourself that you won't write anything unless you have something to say is all well and good, in theory. It also is in direct conflict with my other rule: You will write at least once a week. I would like to believe that my life isn't that boring. I should be able to find something worthy to touch base on.
The Olympics are on right now. My girls are watching beach volleyball. A couple of nights ago, the women's gymnastics team performed feats of agility that were truly mind boggling. There is something that everyone seems to forget: Training for that level of competition is painful.
As a teen, I was a member of our high school gymnastics team. Thrilling. Awesome. Confidence raising. Those are the words I'd use to describe it. I also remember the salty sting of the chalk as the blisters on my hands tear open. There were weeks when I couldn't even hold a fork to feed myself. I dutifully shaved my calloused hands, but most of the time the results were raw craters across my palms. My hands looked like I'd put them in a meat grinder, which coincidentally was our nickname for the horizontal bar. A concerned teacher noticed I was having trouble writing one day and asked what was wrong. Holding up my hands was usually all I had to do.
The memory that will stay with me forever is that of blood welling up from between my fingers as I begin the second set of giant swings in my routine. All I could think of then was 'that blood is going to make the bar slippery.'  Twenty-six years later I still remember the image of crimson lines blossoming across my knuckles. The pain fades. Skin heals. Bones knit. I still have that medal from the competition. The glory doesn't go away. Team USA all the way.