The lovely and loves-the-beach Mrs. Borepatch and I are heading to, well, the beach. We're leaving Camp Borepatch and the dogs (and Crash the Wondercat) under the care of #1 Son and #2 Son.
Fridge is full of turkey leftovers, the freezer is full of frozen pizza. The liquor cabinet is triple locked.
It's odd to turn over this much responsibility to the kids, because I still see them like this:
But #1 Son drives the Jeep's stick shift, so they can get the dogs to the dog park. If Blogpress stops crashing, I'll post some pix from the beach so you can all hate on me.