We at the Hehu household took our lives into our own hands last night. We did it for you, our loyal readers. We know that it is more important to amuse you with the Tiny Tiny Venetian Gondola Hat than it is to avoid bloodshed. Would that our world leaders understood the same.
In this game, which we’ve played before, all members must participate. This is sometimes harder than it looks. I’m sure you’re surprised by this information. Some participants, however, are not only willing, but look good doing it.
Lala, looking rakish while attending the stir-fry.
There are days when Harriet, at approximately 112 people-years old, thinks that she would be better off living in Australia. Yesterday might have been one of them.
Miss Idaho, however, carries it off with elan. A dash of panache. It was, after, made just for her (and sold off the Venetian tchochke carts by the handfuls for 4 euros each — why, oh, why didn’t we get two?)
And it is just so impossible to take a picture of a black cat with a cell-phone camera that after three thousand attempts with Waylon, we never even attempted it with Willie. This is as good as it got:
He was quite disappointed in us, I think. He likes fun, and while he got into the spirit of it at first, since WE were having so much fun, wearing a hat didn’t amuse him as much as it did us. Again, weird.
Adah of the Arctic, living on top of the fridge, though, she didn’t seem to mind that much. Equanimity, that’s what she’s after:
She’s a California girl, though, all the way, and prefers the sombrero style, thank you very much.
Who are we missing? Oh, yes! Me!
And my girl, Clara, who didn’t get it, even though she’s a border collie:
However, and I can say this with no reservation, Digit had the most fun. That’s not what we thought might happen when we started. It didn’t go so well at first:
This is when a sensible person gets out the bandages they are sure to need within seconds. Moves the phone closer, in case a call to 911 for an ambulance is necessary. We threw caution to the cold California winds, though.
He is yelling at me. Of course.
But that’s where he surprised us. Big time. HE DIDN’T MIND THE HAT.
Let me say that again. He didn’t mind the hat. Was it perhaps because the chin elastic just felt like a collar, or because he wore that cone for 5 weeks earlier this year? That whole experience of getting lost for four months changed him. He is a new man (although still nice and jerk-ish, just like we like him). He just didn’t trip on the hat, which made it even funnier. Seriously, we were dying.
Here he was keeping an eye on the kittens playing below him, under the table. Can you imagine what they thought? Looking up at our grumpy gondolier?
And then he just felt good. Sexy. He knew he looked sexy, and he worked it:
Look at that smooth fellow. My little Venetian polpetta. Gads, we love him, don’t we?
Hat game! Hat game! You should play a hat game!
(Lala, enroute to work (sucka!) says that I should remind you that she’s playing this Friday night, and I believe it’s at the Starry Plough. Details HERE.)
Today I am off work and I will dye my hair in preparation for La’s Christmas work party tonight. When your wife is the web developer for Good Vibrations, you don’t really dread the work party, I find. Good times.
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