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Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Need any fertilizer???

Since yesterday afternoon did not go as planned, the cookies I mentioned did not get made.  Therefore, they are on today's agenda while I putz around the house.  I wasn't feeling too slick yesterday afternoon--not sure why-- so I got in bed instead.  Good call.  Today I feel better--just not 100%. 

A friend and an occasional "lurker" of this blog, sends Moravian cookies to me every year at this time.  She's a super generous gal and is also the sender of the Texas Trash--the Meth of all Chex mixes--but I've discussed that subject before, too.  Anywhoo, back to the cookies.  You've heard me tell before how I have to hide them from Fred (and Brian!) because he/they eat them every year--without fail-- before I get any.  Yesterday they arrived and here's what he tried to sell me: he said because the cookies were addressed to Mr. and Mrs., they were intended for him, too.  I told him " no deal", and to spread what he was attempting to sell me, outside on the yard, 'cause I wasn't buying any.  He then went to plan B: he said "pick the ones you like best, and I'll eat the others".  Damn magnanimous of him, don't you think, considering she's my friend and not his and especially when BOTH flavors are delish.  That's a no lose situation for him.  He should have been a nitpicky attorney so he could argue for a living and get paid to do it.  While he's gone today, I'm gonna hide his, and eat mine.

Sis doesn't know it yet but she just hit a homer.  I found a small amount of less than perfect smelling ground meat in the refrige I'd forgotten about, and Little Miss Limoncello is going to get some tonight, cooked, added to her food.  Somebody needs to eat it and I'm sure not going to.  I figure if the candy didn't kill that garbage disposal we call Sis, this won't hurt her either and will likely shoot her to the moon.  She's already walked into the kitchen to see if by chance, there might be a bite with her name on it, but she left empty handed. IS the Christmas season...even for bad hounds.  Buckle up, Sis.  It's your lucky day.

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