I’m always telling people to skip the picnic at Woodward Park, at 21st and Peoria. It is, after all and in my estimation, the No. 1 suggested thing to do in this city. I’m not big on doing anything that’s often suggested, mostly because I wish I could be a rebel or something neat like that.
In this case, though, I made an exception.
Well, we would have chased them with root beer. Problem was, we didn’t think to bring a bottle opener. An age old problem, a new generation.
There are great views to be had at Woodward Park, even when you’re knocked flat on your back by Weber’s trademark deliciosity:
And the view to the right:
And away he goes. Cute little baby heinie as far as the eye can see.
He’s always doing this: Running away from us, his safe haven, in search of adventure and, namely, doggies.
Ah, the men in my life. Always handsome, usually lost in thought, rarely content to just sit around and while away the day.
I love my boys.
Hold on. I’m about to receive a gift.
My very own broken branch from Woodward Park in Tulsa, Oklahoma! Just what I never knew I’d always wanted. Thanks, kiddo.
Hope everyone had as glorious a weekend as we did. Happy Monday.
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