Last Night was not Well Met, Stranger!!!
After finishing off a half can of jalapeno pinto beans for sup last night (HEB house brand pintos -- and, if you read here enough, you know my feelings on house brands) -
Lemme start over all over:
After finishing off a half can of jalapeno pinto beans for Sup last night, I was relieved to be relieved of them in an explosion at 2:43 this morning. I don't know if you are following my drift here. I ate a rather late meal (I'll explain why later) - watched a bit of TV - messed around on the computer for a time - bedded myself about midnight with a bit of rumbling in the tummy....just a bit, not much, a murmur perhaps.
As with most nights, my dog Sadie and I went outside before going to bed. She was a "good girl" for me, as opposed to being a "really good girl." Hurried to the bedroom where my wife was dutifully asleep. Sadie has a nice pallet beside the bed. She likes to go to bed at night. She gets a nighttime cookie. Who wouldn't like to go to bed if you get a cookie?
As with most nights, I was up about 2 hours later to take care of business. To be exact, it was 2:12 by the clock in the bathroom. I love that little clock. It lights up and everything. Digital. Battery. Keeps on ticking, silently throughout the day and night.
Back to bed by 2:15. Sadie never moved a muscle. She gets no more cookies; so why move now? The dog knows the routine.
Tossing and turning and flopping and a sniff or two. I just couldn't get back to sleep. the volcano started to rumble. Best plan: ignore and return to sleep. My jalapeno pinto beans had other ideas. Sleep not my wandering child. It was apparent. Move Now You Ninny! You don't have much time! Time was of the essence as they say.
The explosion was at 2:43 a.m., a time to be revered by patrons of the bean such as I. It is my hope that I have not been too insensitive for you, the reader. The subject is a tad - well a tad - that is, not usually discussed in polite circles unless you are in a pool hall or high school boy's restroom.
Aye, I had been warned by a few pre-eruptions. But, as one might say, when it is your time, it is your time. And, nothing can be done about it. It has been some time since pintos have not been my friend. Canned. Prepared Dry. We should all be vigilant for the time a friend turns on us. It will be a day or three before I venture back in to the world of the legume. In the language of my youth and old Jazz playing friends,
"Hey, Man, it was a gas!"
New subject: not really related.
My daughter was home yesterday. She didn't have to work. We were completely out of dry dog food. Now, she has this basset - big voice, big appetite - who has some type of skin allergy. Thus, we get a special diet food sack from Tractor Supply. It comes in a 40-50 lb bag and must be good tasting. So, we two packed up my spouse, and left for the supply story.
By the time we left the TSC, it was 12:30. I was hungry. Before returning to home, we still needed to make a short stop at HEB for milk and orange juice, a staple here in Salado. But, hunger called, "I'm Hungry. Feed Me, but no Pinto beans." That's what my tummy tuck loudly said.
Where SHALL we go? Real Food? Taco Bell? Subway? Chinese? Tex-Mex? ++++ oh, no, it was our round robin time to visit CiCi's pizza. Now, don't get me wrong. CiCi's isn't bad. It is Pizza for pity sake: Y'know, round things from the oven with cheese, sauce, and meat. And, they have a nominal salad bar. It's okay, functional.
The place was really crowded. Saturday noon apparently brings out the parents with their 5 kids. We arrived at 1:00, yet the crowd lingered. CiCi's had only 2 pizzas on the buffet. sigh. Eventually, without hurrying, we finished. HEB, then home.
Look, Buddy, I am not a CONA-SEWER of fine dining; never have been; probably never will be. [ Little plates with small servings surrounded by little swirls and drops of funny colored sauces] A week past, we ate at Golden Corral. How do you spell trough? My bro Jim always called it the "Troffff" - like where you feed cattle. I do luv them buff-etts. Chinese buffets may be my favorite if they have the Mongolian BBQ cooker set up. But, enough of that.
When I got home, I compared the receipts from last week's Corral visit Vs. yesterday's pizza stop. Even with the larger drinks at the former and the small cup at the latter, Golden Corral was 55 cents cheaper.
That is the total point of this last missive. I can eat at Golden Corral with real food cheaper than I can eat discount pizza. There is something wrong with that. And it might be my eating standards. Y'think?
love ya, come back and see us, (see the p.s. at the bottome)
P.S. I have not explained this in a spell. I had a brother Jim who died from lung cancer a few years ago. He was the poster child for not smoking. Jim was the toughest of us. My parents referred to him as a bull in the china closet. Brother Marshall had the toughest language, but Jim was the BULL. He was never thought of as being dainty.
Once, he was visiting us and took his dogs out on a leash to do their business. When he returned he remarked that one had wee-d and the other 2 had woo-d (past tense spelling of wee and woo). I couldn't believe my ears. Wee and Woo? Of course he had Pomeranians, not great Danes. Queried, he was.
The explanation: if a dog wets, that is a wee. If he does something else, that is a woo. Yep, wee and woo. Front and Back. I wonder if he taught his children that? Later on, I revised this to include Whoopee! That is when a dog does both.
and, now you know.