On Wednesdays, when all four children are in school, I've been meeting my husband for lunch. We ususally do a little shopping, too. This week, we went into an antique store and both spied this old whale. Since it cost considerably more than Basho the Sumo Wrestler Table, we decided to walk away.
HOWEVER, last night when I came downstairs from cleaning up dog pee off of the puzzle the boys and I had been tirelessly working on (run on sentence), there it was on the dining room table. Awwwww. He loves me. And I love this whale. Since our intention is to hang it in our 24 foot entry-way, though, we have no idea how a gimp and a disaster-prone klutz are going to get it up there.
Is Basho history then? I liked him. Maybe you can call the whale
ReplyDeleteDale. He looks emaciated and ashen. It is a boy whale, isn't it?
Dale the frail, pale male whale
You have too much time on your hands, old man. But I like Dale, so I think we'll call him Dale. Basho isn't exactly history, I still hold out hope that someday he'll grace my home, which is quickly looking like it came out of the pages of Architectural Digest, between the gnomes and whale.
ReplyDelete