Suffering the consequences

So. Yesterday was full of consequences. (before you worry, no one died, no relationships were ended, and actually this post has nothing to do with anything related to the last 2 posts)

I wear aprons around the house. I am a messy person and wearing a full coverage apron  allows me to only wear one change of clothes a day. My aprons always have deep pockets. The one on the left gets bits and pieces of trash that I pick up, and gets emptied several times a day. The one on the right carries my phone and reading glasses.  This Is How It Is Done.  I also did laundry yesterday, and that included washing the week’s worth of aprons.   Monday’s apron somehow didn’t get emptied before washing. As I was removing everything from the dryer, I discovered a very clean and bent to heck pair of reading glasses. “Well,” I thought. “I wonder if I bought the warranty for them. Probably not because I don’t usually have the best judgement when it comes to stuff like that”.  A trip to the optician and resulting assurances that I, in an uncharacteristic fit on common sense, DID buy the warranty and they still had those frames in stock so 10 minutes later, I had a a new pair of reading glasses.  I needed to go to the store anyway…because…

I had plans to make this ridiculously easy chicken salad for dinner. Seriously…no cooking not even any chopping. However, it requires chow mein noodles- those delicious little fried things that look like dessicated earthworms. Since I was there anyway, I got a bag of noodles. Then I though “hey, self…since you were so smart to get that warranty, you deserve a Treat.”  I love Ruffles chips and that onion dip you make from a carton of sour cream and a bag of onion soup mix. O How I Love That Stuff.  So, I bought some. A big bag of chips so it could be shared with the Summer Household.  And I ate it. So delicious! Not a petite portion either. You know how the thing on the back calls a portion size 2 tablespoons?  Is that realistic? No it is not. Not when you love that stuff. Now, as a No Longer 20 Year Old With A Cast Iron Digestive System, I suffered consequences. I knew I’d have them and did not care.  And have them I did. I warned Terry, but did not feel guilt, because he has his own issues with hot wings.  Sometimes the consequences are worth it.

We have a dog. He name is Rusty (actually we have 4 dogs but this story is mainly about him). He is one year old, and a male wirehaired dachshund. Like most male dogs, he’s loyal to a fault, and Protects Me From Danger. Even though he only weighs 10 pounds.  Last night Terry and I were sitting outside, enjoy a late evening adult beverage and commenting on the weather. It is what people do in the Deep South. “It sure is humid tonight.” That sort of thing.  Now, we live on a golf course. Our yard is fenced. Every evening at 7:30, a dog and his person, that live on the 12th hole (we are midway down the par-4 10th hole), walk past our fence. All 4  dogs find it necessary to vociferously remind that dog and his person (the dog is a stately old golden retriever) that they (our dogs) are Very Dangerous Indeed and He’d Better Watch Out and If It Weren’t For The Fence There Would Be Carnage.  Satisfied that the old dog was sufficiently reminded of his rank in the scheme of things, 3 of the 4 dogs came back to us.  We didn’t see Rusty, but didn’t think much of it, assuming he was molesting a golf ball or something. Then we heard mournful wailing. A sad, sad song that alarmed us. It was not the yelping and squealing of pain, but the angst of a broken spirit. We saw Rusty standing in the back of the yard, and called to him. He didn’t move, but was obviously alive because his tail wagged.  What we discovered was that, in the excitement of  the golden retriever’s evening constitutional, Rusty got his head stuck in the fence. He wasn’t hurt, but was unable to get loose.  We laughed, Terry took pictures with his phone, and then we got him loose, no worse for the event.

No dogs were hurt in the making of this photograph

Now for the ridiculously easy chicken salad, because you know you want to know:

The meat from the other 1/2 of the rotisserie chicken you bought on Sunday, chopped OR 2 cans of chicken, drained

1 can each bamboo shoots, sliced water chestnuts, bean sprouts and baby corn, drained

1 bag of shredded cole slaw mix from the produce section

1/2 cup Asian Sesame Dressing (the bottled stuff)

1/2 cup mayonnaise

A bag of chow mein noodles, or a can of those rice noodles (like chow mein noodles but smaller) either one is fine

Maybe some toasted almond slivers

Mix the chicken and vegs together in a big bowl

Mix together the mayo and salad dressing, pour over the salad and mix together.

Sprinkle the noodles and almonds on top.

See, no cooking.



About rootietoot

I do what I can.
This entry was posted in aaawwwww, dogs!, family, food, Good grief, I feel so smart!, In The Southland, oh you self indulgent hussy! and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

10 Responses to Suffering the consequences

  1. Nichole says:

    That chicken salad sounds good, and that poor trapped dog made me laugh.

  2. Nichole says:

    Oh! And my Problem Food is Ruffles with Dean’s French onion dip. If it’s in the house, I am eating all of it.

  3. Have the T-shirt says:

    Oh Rootie…that picture, and your caption…well, I spit out my Tootsie Pop laughing.

  4. prttynpnk says:

    Oh! There is nothing worse that indignity suffered upon a dachshund- they are so full of their own importance. If it were mine- you’d be so punished for laughing at such!

  5. Elaine Karrh says:

    Oh,the picture of your Rusty…I too,have a wire-haired dachshund(Maybelline)who is always getting into trouble..I laughed so hard,I cried,reading your story.I love your blog,by the way…

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