Sedona AZ (February 2, 2013) – Good Grief, Mercy Maude, and Lordy Lordy! Indeed this has been a banner day.
You see, Mom has not been pleased with me because I have a tendency to refrain from eating stuff I don’t like! Generally, what I refuse is properly stored in the refrigerator, and I get it the next day. And, of course, by then, I’m so hungry that naturally I eat it.
However, what generally saves me from starvation is T-R-E-A-T-S. However again, it’s quite possible I’ve crossed the line by turning up my nose to some (supposedly) delectable offerings – such as peanut butter teeny-tiny star shaped trinkets (a kindly Christmas gift which at first taste I thought were sort of OK.) But, let’s face it, nothing can compare with Bacon Strips, Pup-Peroni Mix Stix, Dentastix and Cesar Thingies.
Now those are real guy treats!
And so, Mom got snippety with me ‘cause I rejected star shaped thingies, and most likely my thoughts of her association with people were conveyed because they were definitely reflected in her glaring eyes when she said “I know, we don’t have company any more because even humans are too damn picky!”
Then she went on to explain that in the old days, whatever that means, she (and way back when she had some old guy she called her husband) had guests for dinner, it was always a happy occasion. No doubt it’s true because this house is totally furnished with all kinds of stuff for highfalutin’ entertainment, none of which I’ve witnessed in the six years I’ve had the privilege of calling this my home. (Think that’s a bit of a stretch of diplomacy?)
Anyways, Mom don’t have guests to eat no more ‘cause for one reason or t’other it just becomes too complicated! They don’t do gluten, meat, fish, sugar, certain vegetables, spices, dairy products (lactose intolerant) and I’m not certain what else might be left to do without and not become walking skeletons. Then there’s “them” who look in the ‘frigerator at expiration dates, and then even question whether or not what is on the table (offered as a well meaning intention) is certifiably “organic.” (That sounds sort of dirty to me. But what do I know?)
So, moral of my story is that today, for hours, I’ve smelled lovely aromas of a pot roast simmering in a slow cooker. And, yes, I was offered first taste in my evening meal. Even though Mom hasn’t fixed my favorite, turkey, in months and months, this day is a rare event because generally she is among those who “don’t eat meat.”
Life, indeed, is good.
Hey, we all get lucky once in a while. Wish Mom would.