Catastrophe was avoided yesterday, awful pun intended, and we returned home safe, sound, and flealess. The vet didn't need to sedate him (or "seduce" him as my middle daughter kept saying) for his bath, as Orlando was the most docile creature ever. I can only attribute it to the bait well incident.

Ah, the bait well. This gives me an idea for a new chapter in my book-in-progress:

Discipline: Raise The Perfect Child With Brainwashing Techniques

That's just the working title.

Today is Sweet G's birthday. He had hoped to avoid the big family celebration that his mother had planned, in favor of a quiet weekend out here on the island, but alas, it is not to be. He is too busy and stressed with work, so over to the east coast we go.

Our family events are strangely tied to holidays, some by choice, and some purely random. Just a sample: Sweet G was born on Father's Day and shares a birthday with my cousin C and my Irish Nana; Irish Nana died on St. Patrick's Day; G's dear dad, who never missed a day of work in his life and never retired, took his final vacation on Labor Day; I was divorced on Valentine's Day; Halloween is my current wedding anniversary and a niece's birthday. Makes it easy to remember. Or hard to forget.