Report from hubby a.k.a. Mr. Grumpy pants

So this morning I was awoken by my quirky bride, henceforth known by the name of gombalina (goon fairy for those of you who are unfamiliar with the term), to the Frances Albert Bondo rendition of rawhide, complete with post comments by Mr. Bondo himself. now this was a gutsy move by my little gomba as, there are only two possible reactions that she can expect from Mr. grumpy pants, either i will crack up laughing, which is usually the case, or i'll come snapping and snarling out of bed like a rabid hyena with real bad case of genital chafing. Fortunately the birds were singing, the sun was shining, and my dream of slaying the evil old shed was over. Besides, who could be cranky after being awoken by a song about dusty, dirty men wearing full brim hats and chaps and six guns and stuff like that. i can just smell the sweaty horses and the bovine flatulence, it brings me back to my youth, like comfort food. As one can see from the enclosed pic, my gombalina is aptly named, note the expression of ponderment at being stuck in the door by her head gear and the fact that the bubble on said head gear is almost a full bubble off. aah --- she may be challanged, but she sure is cute, and she grants wishes too. I'am a lucky man, having my own gombalina, never a dull moment.