<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' version='2.0'><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089440790819673083</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Thu, 11 Feb 2010 23:17:41 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>The Corduroy Carrot</title><description></description><link>http://wrongdave.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Andrew)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>7</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089440790819673083.post-8237912642662682091</guid><pubDate>Thu, 11 Feb 2010 22:59:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-02-11T17:17:41.214-06:00</atom:updated><title>You know how your kid will bring home something and you're supposed to be all proud and everything?</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://wrongdave.com/uploaded_images/DSC01857-706141.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://wrongdave.com/uploaded_images/DSC01857-705544.JPG" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not so much with my boy, Earl. Today he's out chillin' on the deck, 'cause that's really about the extent of his ambition. I notice him looking in the door at me and I know he's waiting for me to open it. I do. He races in, hits the living room rug about 8 feet away and drops something that I now notice is almost as big as he is. It's a squirrel. Or, it was a squirrel. Looks like he nailed it and chewed away at one leg and its throat before deciding he ought to bring it in to see if I'd like to assign some kind of grade to it or something. No, Earl. Bad boy! The squirrel goes back outside to do what dead animals do. So now, I guess I'm a bad Dad 'cause I didn't show any appreciation. Tell you what, buddy. If I see any squirrel-flavored cat food next time I'm at the store, that'll be your reward. For now, you're grounded.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3089440790819673083-8237912642662682091?l=wrongdave.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://wrongdave.com/2010/02/you-know-how-your-kid-will-bring-home.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (wrongdave)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089440790819673083.post-8489955617721658665</guid><pubDate>Sat, 05 Dec 2009 02:08:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-12-04T20:17:03.675-06:00</atom:updated><title>The artist formerly known as Andy.</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://wrongdave.com/uploaded_images/DSC01339-736167.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="http://wrongdave.com/uploaded_images/DSC01339-736156.JPG" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at that little scamp! He's sneaked into his parent's bedroom and found the Kleenex box next to the water bed. This was taken in Denver when he was about the age his own son is now. Happy Birthday, Andrew. I still love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3089440790819673083-8489955617721658665?l=wrongdave.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://wrongdave.com/2009/12/artist-formerly-known-as-andy.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (wrongdave)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089440790819673083.post-2297154930020519958</guid><pubDate>Mon, 16 Feb 2009 15:17:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-02-16T09:19:45.847-06:00</atom:updated><title>It rhymes with crap.</title><description>Those who can, sing. Those who can't, rap.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3089440790819673083-2297154930020519958?l=wrongdave.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://wrongdave.com/2009/02/it-rhymes-with-crap.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (wrongdave)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089440790819673083.post-5560734199087673354</guid><pubDate>Wed, 21 Jan 2009 02:56:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-20T20:58:07.221-06:00</atom:updated><title>LG - apparently the logo of Captain Obvious</title><description>We just replaced our over-the-range microwave hood. It didn't cost a lot of money. Actually it was half of what we spent on the first one - 18 years ago. Even so, it's got one feature its predecessor didn't. When you turn on the light that illuminates the range top the word "light" comes on in the panel next to the clock. Gee...thanks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3089440790819673083-5560734199087673354?l=wrongdave.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://wrongdave.com/2009/01/lg-apparently-logo-of-captain-obvious.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (wrongdave)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089440790819673083.post-2733703340298969907</guid><pubDate>Fri, 02 Mar 2007 01:02:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-03-01T21:00:05.864-06:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>family</category><title>Don Crooks</title><description>I've been lucky in my life to have had two great fathers-in-law. Charles and Harry were both as easy-going and as sweet a person as you will ever meet. They always had a smile and a story for you and were always ready to listen to yours. Both had learned a lot about life and wanted you to have the benefit of that experience. And they cared about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don Crooks wasn’t related to me like the other two. He was the father of the guy who married my son’s sister-in-law. And he lived 2,000 miles from me. But when we visited, he and wife Irene made sure we were invited to their home for holidays and any other opportunity we could make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you were in Don’s house, you were part of the family. Not because he was lonely. He and Irene had raised (forgive the guesstimate) 10 kids and had welcomed, maybe, 5 times that many grandkids. Everyone in Don’s world was shown the same generosity and love. It reflected in his entire family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He always remembered my name and couldn’t have been happier to share his food, drink – even Christmas presents. Don was the guy with the twinkle in his eye and a party hat on his head. He had one hand stirring whatever was going to be supper and always made sure your wine glass was full. You weren’t going to sit quietly in the corner of his table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don left this earth yesterday, long after the doctors had predicted he would. He passed at his home, with his family near. He was in no hurry to go. Too much to learn. Too much to say. I wish I could have spent more time with you, Don. They make the good ones in such small quantities.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3089440790819673083-2733703340298969907?l=wrongdave.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://wrongdave.com/2007/03/don-crooks.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (wrongdave)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089440790819673083.post-9186621927725797909</guid><pubDate>Mon, 15 Jan 2007 00:18:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-01-19T21:58:28.305-06:00</atom:updated><title>Remodeling</title><description>&lt;a href="http://wrongdave.com/uploaded_images/wallpaper-766605.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://wrongdave.com/uploaded_images/wallpaper-764231.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3089440790819673083-9186621927725797909?l=wrongdave.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://wrongdave.com/2007/01/remodeling.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (wrongdave)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089440790819673083.post-5747186872032939095</guid><pubDate>Wed, 27 Dec 2006 18:47:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-01-19T21:43:31.826-06:00</atom:updated><title>Whatever you do, don't use the word "package".</title><description>Things I've learned about Miles by reading the first 96 pages of the book "So What":&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miles and Charlie Parker were fired after the first day of a week-long gig at a Detroit night club in 1949 because Bird was nodding off. The owner who fired them was Jack Ruby - the same man who shot Oswald in 1963.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miles appeared as a pimp in an episode of "Miami Vice".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3089440790819673083-5747186872032939095?l=wrongdave.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://wrongdave.com/2006/12/whatever-you-do-dont-use-word-package.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (wrongdave)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>