ding-dong!

August 28, 2007 at 6:36 pm Leave a comment

#11 on my list of faves and craves: GUACAMOLE, baby.

Oh my word. I eat GUAC, therefore I am. Goodness gracious it’s good. And, On The Border’s GUAC LIVE rocks the house, y’all.  And, so, dear friends, does On The Border’s Monterrey Ranch Chicken Fajitas. Both of those were in the frige, left over from Sunday lunch. Hence the downfall of my diet for this day in history. Well, I mean, if you don’t count the pastries du jour that were FORCED upon me this morning. I GAVE AWAY a muffin the size of my head, only to have two more office cheer spreaders bring me doughnuts.  People, I was strong when the enormous muffin and plate of fresh fruit came my way. I gave it to the first courier that came by, and he received it gleefully. But, once Harold came by with the fresh doughnuts, well…I just CAVED!  I’m sooooooooo weak! I hang my head in shame. (And, I wipe leftovers from the corners of my mouth.)

Okay, now…On the subject of things said before you think about it: Here’s this–A little child in our neighborhood has been coming to our door periodically. He’s like four or five years old. Cute as all git out.  The first time he came to the door, he rang the doorbell, (ding-dong!!) and I answered. Saw a little blue eyed blonde boy whom I do not know.

“Can I come in?”

Can I come in he says? Uhhh, duhhh. Nooooooooo. 

“Well, no, honey. I don’t think that’d be a very good idea,” I say with my best Snow White lilt. I don’t know this child. I don’t know his parents. They don’t know us.

“Why?” he says. “We just want to see your girl.”

(Ahhh yes. And so it begins…) Well, at the time, the Magster was sick. So, I said,

“Well, MY GIRL is sick with strep throat right now. You don’t want to get sick, do you?”

He shook his head no.

 “Okaaaaaaaay. Well, then Y’ALL just go play and have fun!” I say, smiling and nodding a friendly greeting to another little boy who was not so brave, standing at the end of my driveway.

Next time he rang my bell,  a couple of weeks later, Maggie was napping.  (I know what you’re thinking. But, she really was!)

This afternoon, Terry called, and while we were chatting, when the doorbell rang. I said to Terry, “Somebody’s at the door.”

“WHAT???” He said. (Come to think of it, drop in guests really don’t happen much over here. Usually we know when someone’s coming by.)  So, I stroll to the door and open it while still on the phone. And, there stood Maggie’s little suitor. He looked at me and said with a certain amount of impatience in his voice, “Nowwwwww can she play?”

And, y’all, before I knew it, out popped, “No, son. I don’t let mine run loose on the street. Sorry.”

Terry said, “WELL TRACEY! My word! I can’t believe you said that!”

I stood there a minute trying to think what I’d said that could have been so horrible. It hadn’t seemed so bad in the moment. In fact, I don’t know that I would have given it a second thought if he hadn’t pointed it out to me.  Well, hello! I mean, who in their right mind lets a four year old run all over the neighborhood without supervision? We are not in the nineteen seventies, y’all. Not to say that the seventies were impervious to crime.

Does his mother not read the scary emails? Am I the only one still interested in protecting my young? I know I’m sheltering. I knowwwwwww!  And, if I watch YOUR kids, you can bet they’ll be taken care of in that way, too.  Ha–Terry used to say if I started a home daycare that it should be called “MOTHER HEN’s”, ’cause I want all the chicks to be right under my wings in case of a storm.

Well, mercy. I truly hope that I did not  hurt the little tyke’s feelings.  And, by the way, there was no indication of any upset on the youngster’s face.  If anything, I guess he was just confused. And, of course he was disappointed because I wouldn’t let “my girl” run off with him into the wildness of our cul de sac. But, come on! You don’t turn preschoolers out to roam the world freely. They may ring the WRONG doorbell! Well, that’s my opinion, oughter be yors.

Okay, well Terry is out cutting the front lawn before we get throw’d out of the subdivision. It may not have been cut this past week, but yard for yard, ours is the darkest green in the cul de sac. It’s even greener than the turf management major’s lawn. UnREAL!

And while he’s out there I guess I really should be rearranging the refrigerator in accordance to Terry’s plan for perfect refrigeration order. He just gave me yet another mini-tutorial explaining which items are SUPPOSED TO go on what shelf, and which things go in the door.   And, his system has something to do with the height of the products. But, quite frankly, I quit listening mid-rant.  So, maybe I’ll just let ole Dewey Decimal out there catalog our frige himself?

And, I’ll just concentrate on eating everything in it.

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Entry filed under: don't tell me what to do, faves and craves, funny, weight control central.

three hour diet groggy

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