Last weekend we took CT to Build-A-Bear Workshop in the Mall of America to spend a gift card he got for Christmas. Among the hundreds of teddies, we found tigers, penguins, kitties and bunnies all waiting to to find a new home in some kid's toybox. And then there was the featured pet....yes, you too can now have your very own stuffed groundhog. It disgusts me really. Is no holiday safe from our capitlist gusto? Before you know it, we'll all be obligated to make a special trip to Hallmark to search for the perfect card to express our feelings to our friends and family regarding the groundhog's weather supremacy.
Groundhog Day....Humbug, I say. Why do I want to celebrate a varmit scared of its own shadow? And although they're rarely correct, I prefer to get my weather from the guy on tv who actually attended meterorology school thank you very much. While we're on the subject, groundhogs are awful menaces to the suburban lawn. For eight years in our home, we've tried unsuccessfully to seed grass....any grass at all would have been lovely. After years of a dirt lawn, this spring we finally had some patches. Oh, it wasn't a putting green or anything, but it was ours and it was green. Within a few days, we noticed holes multiplying all over the place. Apparently, the groundhog had also admired our success and decided to take the opportunity to move in and return our humble yard to the dirt from which it came.
So, why a stinkin' groundhog? Cute Puppy Day...now there's a day for Hallmark. And CT's goldfish was swimming on his side this morning...that's not a good sign folks. Perhaps he is merely signaling the cold front that is moving in.
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