wrigley's big day.

Yesterday, the whole Mooth family participated in the annual Hyde Park Blast. It's full-day neighborhood festival that takes place around July 4: The day starts with a four-mile run/walk that we all did. Wrigley donned his official Hyde Park (make that Bark) Blast bandanna and looked quite snappy as he and I did the walk. With his red bandanna and lead, and my red shirt, we were such the team.

Wrigley had a pedicure on Friday; his nails had been too long and I could tell it was affecting how he walked -- with shorter nails on Saturday, he was very happy walking at a quick pace. Our first mile was the slowest (thanks to a business stop early on) and picked up speed each mile, including a super-speedy pace down Observatory toward Carl's, the neighborhood deli. Our pace always quickens as we approach Carl's. Always.

Rob was waiting for us at the finish line: He cruised to a 12th place spot out of more than 1,600 runners! He's awesome.

The post-race goings-on at the Blast are a high point of the whole experience, most especially the kegs & eggs. Nothing like a Bud Light and plate of eggs to refuel after a race. Wrigley scarfed some eggs and a few bites of soft pretzel, gulped down a lot of water and crunched some ice. A great morning for the Boy.

(In the afternoon, Rob and some friends headed down to the Kentucky Speedway, where they took part in the Mario Andretti Driving School and drove Indy Cars around the track. Perhaps I'll get him to post about that.)

Later in the day, we returned to Hyde Park Square, where they closed the streets down for a block party and series of bicycle races. We watched the cycling, enjoyed some good wine and had a bite to eat. The Wrigley Effect was in full force: Everyone wanted to know what kind of dog he is, and he was eternally patient when a little kid came up and played with his ears or his tail. He barked whenever the crowd was cheering on the riders (and sometimes just because). I find it funny that everyone assumes he's still a puppy. Perhaps it's his goofy look or his happy demeanor, but folks are always surprised when I tell how old he is. He's a good boy.

I love my little family.

(edit: Today, Wrigley wants to go EVERYWHERE with us. He's been following us around and was most disappointed when we left to go to Target and then to play golf without him.)