Sunday's box sends Wednesday's box to hell and back.
J, our wonderful 16 year old babysitter who lives down the block, brings us a box of pastries at least every other Sunday, sometimes every Sunday. Oy. She has a part-time job at a local bakery, and they send their employees home on Sunday afternoon with the leftovers, since they are closed on Mondays. She used to bring them weekly without fail until I told her I needed to cut back and could she bring them every other? Well, she is halfway sticking to the plan. We've also been on the receiving end of Italian bread and cakes from her shop. No wonder I'm not losing any weight.
Oh yeah - J, her mother, and one of her two sisters came by last night to buy D's car! This has paid for D's new amplifier and speakers (already installed in the replacement car) and the dogs' dentals, scheduled for next month. I think he spent around $600 for the stereo equipment, and the total cost of the bloodwork, anesthetic, and cleaning for the dogs' heinous moss-mouths will be about $400. More if the vet runs into trouble, like unearthing a colony of tiny, rabid bats in between Waldo's molars. It is not unlikely, considering how little attention we give to their dental hygeine and considering how much shit they eat in the backyard. And by shit, I mean worms, dirt, mushrooms, plants, baby birds, and yes actual poop (squirrel, bird, and their own).
2 comments:
I am so with you in the pastry hell department. MIL, who pretty much precipitated the "birdlike woman" cliche, eats nothing but pastries and tea... and when we get together (which is often, because they are social butterflies of the Eastern European ilk), what else is there to eat? Yeah, I think that tummy and thighs are here to stay. But at least my shoulders look good. :P
Yikes! At least these temptations are in our house among much healthier choices. But still it's hard to resist. I feel like such a wastrel if I pitch them. Pastries=comfort, and here I am throwing away so many hugs and kisses!
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