I have just finished making a double recipe of Tortilla soup in a big pot in the kitchen. I thought the pot was big enough, but I barely squeaked by this time. Especially when I had to add more chicken. I called Benji to check and see how much he wanted in it, and I should have known better. He like a little soup, with his chicken. Benji wants some to take back to Nash after Christmas and I know I'm not going to want to cook then so I'm throwing it in the freezer. I feel sure the sight of food after Christmas will make me want to barf. It almost does now.
Last night was the Holiday Candlelight dinner thing with mom and my sister. When we arrived, mom's hair was gorgeous and looked the best it's looked in ages. It was her black velour warm up suit my sister and I took exception with. We tried everything to pry her out of it but she wasn't buying, so we swapped out a lovely new jacket for the one she had on, and I doubt anyone noticed, and even if they did, big whoop. My sister and I just locked eyes and shook our heads...this from a woman who would have wanted to be dressed to....her....gum....line. Just when we think we can't be shocked anymore, we get a new revelation. Dinner was lovely, pictures were made, and I was glad to make it home for some no brainer TV, to wipe out my sadness.
When I got back last night, Wiggins requested that his bedding be washed because it was a little stinky. Mild understatement. For some reason, he likes to lick it, and since his breath is buzzardy at best, I happily agreed. Both of his white fluffies are now fresh, as are his covers underneath the desk on the donut bed. After I take them out of the dryer, sometimes I wrap him in them while they are still warm, and he will audibly groan with pleasure. Hey....he's no dummy.
Sister is doing the hound dog howl and "talking" in the den and now Wigman is chiming in...oh, Lord...I wish I could record her "talking" as she howls, and put it on here. There's just no way to describe it other than "houndy".
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