Perros, Schmeros.

Parros sounds nicer.

What would mi maestra think?

Tonight she'll be thinking, "Donde esta Devon?" Because I'm skipping my Spanish class in favor of a much-needed beer.

Weddings, Christians, Gigantic Turtles

Please forgive me for letting everyone look at a picture of a dead dog for over a month. Not cool. I can't believe I did that, especially considering other interesting, blog-worthy developments in God's Country.

It's been a busy few weeks. I went on a midnight ride with the police, went hunting for a gigantic, Loch Ness-like turtle (more on this later), and infiltrated the ranks of some of the area's most tech-savy Christians. The spring and a recently purchased iPod-car-converter thing have elevated my serotonin levels (bye Miley, and thank you. It *is* the climb), but not so much that I couldn't let the tears loose at a beautiful wedding in Maryland and at touching memorial service in Houston.

I have now moved on to "Intermediate beginners Spanish," which means I can tell you what my name is, ask your name, and tell you how many ventanas are in mi casa. (Mi maestra and I have discovered that numbers and time are not my thing. But they're not exactly my thing in English, either, so I've decided not to stress.)

In other good news: The Haynie B&B is getting not one but two golden parros in August. And these aren't any old parros. The parents of these two puppies are more accomplished than I am: we're talking therapy dogs, "Best in show" champions, etc. I'm prepared to be overshadowed. But I'm excited to make two great new friends.

All for now. I'm at work, and should do some.