Casher's Sleepover at the Hospital

I had a super tummy ache over the weekend and pooped my pants about every 30 minutes. Dadda took me to the doctor and the doctor said, no more monkeys jumping on the bed. Wait, no that's what Mommy says. My doctor said I looked terrible, and that's when I knew it was bad because she ALWAYS tells me how handsome I am. She told me I could have a sleepover at the hospital.

The first day was really bad. They kept sticking needles in me and I didn't like that one bit. Dadda stayed with me and Mommy could hear me screaming all the way down the hall. I wasn't my happy self, so I asked them to refrain from taking any pictures.

I woke up feeling much better, and right off the bat the nurses were doting all over me.

I got to drink lots of Pedialyte, which is like Gatorade for kids. I loved it!

I had to take a special bath to soak my bummy. "Dadda, don't take pictures of me in my birthday suit!"

They put me in a cage.

So I tried to eat my way out.

My IV got plugged up so I had to get another one. They tried in my other arm FOREVER. I got so mad that the veins in my forehead kept getting bigger and bigger, apparently so big that the nurse couldn't resist them, and she stuck a needle in one of them. Mommy was about to cry when she saw my new accessory.

But, in no time I was feeling much better and now I'm home safe and sound.

a LONG time in the making

In 2004 I made this frame for Dana for Christmas. I thought it turned out pretty nice, so I bought some Ansel Adams prints to make additional frames for.

Four years later, our slat-panel fence met its end, providing the much needed weathered wood for the frames.

Apparently 30 years of weathering wasn't enough, so I let them sit outside for another two years.

I finally got the prints matted in December, the frames built in February and the finished product hung on the wall last night.

At the rate I build frames, I guess it's good I don't work for Dave or I would be out of a job.

The Dirt Bike Kid!

I love motorbikes!

Dadda let me sit on his motorbike and I even had my motorbike shirt on.

Momma says I can't have a motorbike. Pleeeeeeaaaaaasssssseeeeee Momma!

Dadda says I can have one when I'm five, but I'm sure I'll be big enough when I'm four!

Dadda is going to teach me how to ride. I love my Dadda!