John and Erin went to some fancy-dancy seafood joint for dinner. The sign said no dogs allowed, so they promised me and the sheep some leftovers.
What in tarnation is this stuff. They just keep starring at us!
We talked John and Erin into taking us out for ice cream instead.
Then it was Superbowl Sunday. Jesse fixed us up with some nice submarine sandwiches.
Then we watched the game. What was that ref looking at?
The fixins sure were good though.
And we made s'mores in Erin's fireplace. Made me homesick for the campfires on the trail.
8 comments:
Hmm, what were you all doing to Jesse. The poor sheep seems to be double fisting. At least I hope no one else there was drinking. They don't seem legal to me.
They had a very good time there :))
I could have sworn those beers were full before we started taking photos.
I can't point any unapproving fingers. I was too busy triple fisting behind the camera.
Dare I ask where that third fist is emmanating from?
It was just 2 hands. I just was drinking 3 drinks all at once.
so, the middle one should be a dog, right?
Yes, Franklin is a dog. He is supposted to be a sheep herder. But not sure he herds any of our sheep.
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