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Random Ramblings

Much ado about absolutely nothing…

It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas

As I drove on to my street last night I saw that our neighbors across the street had their Christmas light on. For a split second, I thought, “Awww. that looks nice.” Then I realized not only were they on—it was February 3—but they just put them up. Yesterday. February 3. Not sure what that’s about—were they too busy at Christmas time to actually celebrate Christmas then? Are we testing the homeowner’s association? Or are they just trying to get a jump on next Christmas?

In a Jam

I was on my own for dinner last night. Bill was working late and I was too tired to cook anything. Rather than resort to my fall-back meal—cereal—I decided I wanted a PB&J sandwich instead. I wasn’t digging the wheat bread, but I found some fresh tortillas, heated them on the gas burner so they were a little crispy, and slathered the peanut butter and jelly on them. But this wasn’t just any jelly. I used Sarabeth’s Peach Apricot Preserves. Oh My Holy Hell. This is the best stuff out there. A few years ago, Bill and I spent a week in NYC and stayed at a hotel on Madison and 92nd. Right next door was a restaurant called Sarabeth’s and it was incredible. I remember having the jam one morning and I’ve never forgotten it. Flash-forward to a couple of weeks ago. I was cruising through Bristol Farms and saw a selection of Sarabeth jams and grabbed some. It’s pricey ($10 for a jar), but it’s like desert. You can make a PB&J sandwich, scoop it over ice cream or serve it with a cracker and some goat cheese. Mmm.


SaraBeth's Apricot Peach jam with Laura Scudder's Natural Peanut Butter

My Cups Runneth Over

After my PB&J extravaganza last night I was exhausted. The dog, of course, was not. She had been waiting patiently all day long for me to come home and walk her. And when I tried to get away with taking her up the block and back, she was pissed. She’s pretty calculating at times, and very patient. So she waited until I crawled into a nice hot tub to relax to fuck with me. First she kept sticking her paw in the tub to splash me. Then she grabbed her ball and tossed that in the tub repeatedly. I got tired of her throwing it in, so I tossed it out one last time and shut the shower door. Apparently, when I got undressed to get into the tub, I left my bra hanging off the edge of the counter. By the time I was done with my bath she had managed to rip both of the straps off and eat one of the bra cups. Now I get to watch her crap my bra out in the back yard.


2 Responses

  1. Why are animals so damn stupid? How can my cat turn his nose up at the chicken and lobster dinner whenever it turns up in the rotation, but he’s gobble up cotton balls, lint, hair elastics and anything plastic?

  2. Dogs are like goats. In her 18 months she’s eaten shoes, bras, whole dog toys, stuffed animals, a potholder, cordless phone, her own crap and God only knows what else. But I can guarantee she’d never turn down chicken and lobster. She’s like the Anthony Bourdain of the dog world—she’ll eat just about anything!

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