Clown Lawn Art is Never Good Lawn Art Even When It is Someone's 4th Birthday. Nope. Never.

It's been a year, but I finally found another pair of running shoes. I've been wearing my Fleet Street shoes since August of last year and knowing they were 3x's what I'd pay at a normal store, I imagined I should nurse them until the bottom of my feet wore through the rubber - which it did. So, I went back to my DSW clearance rack and found a pair of Sauconys that are more reasonable in price. They fit just the same.

And I tried them out while walking Glamus on our two mile, pre-sleep trek (she's awesome on a leash)...but that is when we ran into the Birthday clown. She sat in a lawn and wouldn't move. She was paralyzed by fear. She was shaking all over and when I said, "Come," she flew out into the street as far as she could get on the leash and I'm thankful the woman in the car slammed her brakes. It was a close call, and I now know that Glamus is one of those creatures that is totally petrified by clowns.

Not funny. Not funny at all.

Glamus made it home in one piece and proceeded to eat through a pig's ear, a dental stick, and a few biscuits. She then did the pre-bed routine of pulling out every toy from her cage and sprinting them from one end of the house to the other, bouncing off every piece of furniture (and human flesh) she can find. Then she settled.

Note to self: when walking my scary clown signs, put the leash on lock so that the dog doesn't sprint into traffic in a fit of complete fear. We live and we learn.

But I got new sneakers and I can't wait to ruin them today. They're blue and I've been on a lime green and orange kick for some time. I guess I'll be fine transitioning to aqua feet.