Alright, since I teased you with the worst bathroom renovation preview photo ever yesterday, I figured I'd make it up with some cuteness. And the cutest thing in my house is my two-year-old.
Well...about half the time he's cute at least. The other half he's making snowballs in the toilet out of toilet paper. Or some other such thing.
Here's one of the cutes, though.
That right there is Cowboy Spaghetti, folks.
You see, we live in the west. Hence the name of my blog, The Spaghetti Westerner. And when I say the west, I don't mean California. I mean the Wild West. In a town where cowboys and gold miners run amok.
This time of year there's a great gathering of cowboy poets. One of the best advertisements for this event that I've ever seen asked, "What rhymes with varmint? Find out at Cowboy Poetry." Seriously, can you think of anything that rhymes with varmint?
And so, the cowboys also invaded the library, bringing with them their poems, their tunes, and their particular brand of humor (you know the kind where a "ten-liter hat" is the punchline to a joke). Little Spaghetti couldn't resist putting his head through the cut-out and becoming a cowboy himself.
A reading cowboy, apparently. With a pet beaver who also reads...