We have been searching for a while for a table to go in the living room. Something small, square (although round would do) that can seat 4, and allow us to play games, work puzzles, etc. and not have to move it from the dining table. The search has taken us to consignment, thrift and antique stores with some near misses. Well, at the local supermarket, wife found a suitable table. We went over this morning and after an extensive search the manager regrettably informed us the floor model was the only one left. As I type they are dismantling it so we can fit it and the four chairs into our two cars!
But the fun-nest part was exiting. Our oldest daughter, who is well past the age for this, begged me for a quarter for the junk machines on the way out. I happened to have one, so I handed it over. On the way out, I happened to look at the bank of machines that dispense stickers, temporary tattoos, small plastic items that get lodged in the dog's colon or your foot in the middle of a night walk. On the end was a machine that said "Santos". Inside were those little plastic bubble containers with, of all things, SAINTS. Yes, all in Spanish, but think about it. Saints in a vending machine outside a supermarket, in a different language. We had to get one, and I think we got Maria Immaculada. I have quarters for when we go back. The pope is in there, along with Guadalupe, Judas and about six others. They will go nicely with my Buddy Christ (for heaven's sake watch Dogma if you haven't) and the stormtroopers on my computer desk.
Upon returning home, our dog Purl had taken the bait. She is a chewer...either out of hunger or nervousness that we left her alone with nobody to supervise. She is a mix of Australian Shepherd and Border Collie. Lately she ate a heel of banana bread supposedly out of reach on the back counter. So last night I left a pancake out, deliberately, near the edge of the counter. I dosed it liberally with Dave's Insanity Hot Sauce. This stuff is serious business. I put a dab on my tongue no larger than one of these letters and it had some serious heat. It didn't last, but while it did, I knew it. Well, pancake was gone and the dog looked a little more than guilty. It might take a few more attempts to get the message across.
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Psych major applying stuff learned to doggie. Poor doggie.
But honestly I wish I had thought of this with a cat we had. He was the most terrific cat ever but had one bad habit. He totally loved bread products. He was the reason I bought a metal locking bread box.
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