This sort of sums it up, how it goes sometimes.

When the drink orders are taken, by a fetching young girl with visible tattoos, I order something that involves rum and banana liquor, served up with pineapple slices in a giant glass shaped like a tiki head. The same one Peter Brady found in that cave in Honolulu, so long ago. Peter Brady lives in Manhattan Beach now and is bloated looking. Maybe it was Bobby Brady. Anyhow.

Everybody else orders up quiet, sophisticated concotions of whisky and ginger, blood orange and vodka. In straight up, lowball glasses. When all the drinks come, mine is the only one with a name, Dr. Funk, and stands tall above all the others, in it's weirdo tikiness.

I was also the only one to arrive at dinner, still covered in mud.

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I stopped at a strip mall yesterday morning to pick up a January calendar book. It being January 6 and all. The dogs were in the back, and as I'm parking there's a backpacked, offbeat character lurking nearby. I make a mental note, let's just lock the car because maybe he's the type that steals barking dogs or dog training Robots out of soccer mom mini SUV's, driven by muddy ladies.

As I step out, and prepare to cut through some attractive strip mall shrubbery, he screams out, "Don't walk THERE, you'll step on my NET!"

I jump back.

"Don't want to step on any NETS!" I scream back atcha.

Too late mental note. Don't scream at crazy people, never a good direction to go.

"It's how I'll catch my bird!" he screams back. "Don't worry, I'll stand guard!"

"OK, thanks!" I scream back.

A couple people in the parking lot now sort of inching around both of us. We are screaming at eachother, me and the bird net guy.

I scurry off, hope he doesn't try to use the net to catch my dogs out of my car, and go into OfficeMaxStaplesDepot. I hate that place. I'm in a hurry.

When I come back out, he's moved further away, but I see him hiding behind a van. When he pokes his head out, he gives me a thumbs up. I wave back brightly.

When I walk by the little landscaping bit, I peer in, just to check.

Yeah, there's no net. Or any birds. But I give him bonus points for at least having a project.

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Gustavo ran around at Dirt Nite, really no problem. No dead, no undead, no shaking or quaking, bolting or jolting, just regular old dog agility. One $5 Challenge style weave pole entry, maybe gave us a mild headache. I posted it at Susan Garrett's. She's doing a brain experiment on us, that Susan Garrett. Share those challenges to make Susan Garrett throw rainbows at you quicker. Yikes, Susan Garrett! We are ALL about the sharing around here. But there's just these nets all over the place here, and the pineapple slices need to soak a bit longer in the rum first.

For full effect, you run this on thick, heavy, damp, clumpy dressage lady dirt. I run in paddock boots because sneakers are no match for the stuff. By the end of the sequence, you should be muddy. Try it if you want.