Waynesville Christmas Parade

There's not too much to say about the Waynesville Christmas Parade, except that we went and that we had a swell parking place in the lot of the pawn shop across the street from Bogart's.

It ended up being a good thing the car was close by when Freddie "shared" his Ginger Ale with Jones by pouring it down the front of Jones's outfit. A perfectly-timed "push" of the can when it was Jones's turn to drink was all it took to send Big Brother, freezing, into the warmth of our van.

Side note: if I ever run away, it'll be stuff like that that has pushed me out the door. It's not necessarily malicious; it's just mischievous and, when you have to deal with it 947 times in the course of a single day, it's enough to make a person lose her ever-loving mind.

Or maybe it's just enough to make ME lose my mind.

Regardless, my mind is currently so lost that I was thankful Nature called before the parade started. It gave me an excuse to walk the two blocks to Jeremy's office and kill the next fifteen minutes in the sweetest solitude I've ever tasted.

I had to force myself to rejoin the pack, getting back just before the Ginger Ale "incident." I then spent the rest of the evening trying to keep Freddie warm and trying to decide if he was just faking it when he said he had to go potty.

Jones, on the other hand, was in the catbird seat. According to Jeremy, who joined him in the car a little while after Jones first climbed in, Jones narrated the parade, giving a play by play of every float, which, if you know Jones at all, isn't even one itty bit surprising.

Thursday nite is the Christmas Parade here in Canton. Of course, we're planning to be there. I am NOT, however, planning to pack a Ginger Ale.