Happy Pepperoni!

It's only January 4th and I'm already exhausted from being so good. Cowboy says I have another 360+ days to behave. I had no idea they taught squids to count. I always thought "3" was as high as he could go and get the numbers in the right order. When His Holiness and I were first married, he'd count to 3 when he thought I was doing something I shouldn't be doing. The premise is the parent/child thing. Today's kids know when mommy or daddy gets to 3, their world is going to come to an end... ergo, a spanking ensues. The first time he did that, I had no idea why he was counting. Nobody ever did that when I was growing up and if they had, we would have laughed. Where I lived, you hit me and I retaliated ten-fold no matter how much bigger you were. Not too many people hit me twice. So... the squid counts to 3 and I hint that 4 is next.

"Then 5, then 6. I think that's as high as you should go till you practice a little," I told him.

SWAT!

Truly, the man is sensitive about his counting skills.

Now, on the rare occasion he forgets that counting is something I ignore, and yells "ONE!" I roll my eyes and try not to mutter "Outstanding! Do I have a bid for two? This is a gem, folks. How about the gentleman in the back - did you want to bid again, sir?" Inevitably, I finish my little speech from the "over his shoulder" position and if I'm really feeling like a warrior princess, I still mutter when he upends me.

Run Amok Week was a huge success if I do say so myself. I won't incriminate myself by spilling details but suffice to say, MsHairUpHerAss, my nosy neighbor, has enough cat litter to "toilet" a dozen cats for a year. Now... to get her a dozen cats...

I heard David, a senior ranked officer in the US Marine Corps, is checking out the benefits of enlisting in the Air Force. FOFL! VISA charge, $100 for the gay men's chorus singing telegram; a photo of his startled homophobic face when they "touched" him while singing - PRICELESS! This is all hearsay, of course - 5th amendment and all that. Is this country great or what? I didn't want him to feel badly when I learned all these details so when he came over to spend a night with us - he lives on one of the islands in the San Juans - I made his favorite chicken and dumplings dinner with Boston Creme pie for dessert. Of course, I also short-sheeted the bed.

I discovered that one of the Christmas gifts the wretch gave to Cowboy was a long-handled wooden bathbrush. Egads! I immediately turned that into firewood. David casually mentioned that cheese boards and large wooden trivets make interesting "implements." Interesting? More firewood and now I will cut the cheese on a fiberglass tray and purchase very small trivets... iron. I think we won't need to buy an extra cord of wood this winter. I am such a thrifty housewife.

Ohhhh, did I mention Santa was very good to me this year? He was and I thanked him in ways he really liked. I plan to get my first 2006 letter composed to him shortly. I like to update him quarterly; it's just so efficient to keep him in the loop.

So, last night... we ordered pizza for dinner. I've been cooking and baking for eons and needed a break. We got 1 extra large mushroom and pepperoni pizza for me and the squid, 2 extra large pizzas for the 4 pups. (The outside pups aren't going to let us get away with eating pizza and not get some.) All of us want extra cheese and when the pies were delivered, I faithfully cut 2 of them in half, gave half to each pup and saved a small wedge for each cat.

Then Cowboy gets a phone call he says he has to take.

I'm starving.

The phone call goes on for a few minutes.

I'm getting hungrier by the second.

The pups have finished their pizza and are eyeing the pizza on the counter.

Cowboy is still on the phone in another room.

I'm salivating along with the pups.

I sneak a piece of pepperoni off the pizza, give one to each of the 2 indoor pups (outside pups back in the yard) and quickly close the pizza box.

Cowboy is still on the phone.

That one piece of pepperoni has my stomach growling.

Ergo: The pups and I eat ALL the pepperoni off the pizza.

I disappear upstairs to brush my teeth, dragging the dogs with me and spray their mouths with Binaca to hide the evidence.

Cowboy finally finishes his phone call and... did you happen to hear a sound that was similar to a jet hitting Mach 2 last night? That was Cowboy when he discovered the pizza only had mushrooms... Oops.

He calls the pizza place, makes loud noises into the phone, mumbles, and about 30 minutes later, voila! Another pizza is delivered - free of charge - and it has LOTS of extra pepperoni.

He tips the driver.

I, of course, have suddenly become mute and am an innocent bystander. Folks, please remember that the first rule of survival is "never admit guilt" - not even to your lawyer. The second rule is "Deny! Deny! Deny!" If all else fails, act indignant and then, sniff audibly and shed a tear or two. This doesn't always work, but it's always worth a try.

"Sarrrrrrrrrrrrr." Cowboy growls after we eat.

"What?"

"I'm gonna count to 3."

"Is that as high as a squid can count?"

Have I mentioned that the wretch can laugh and spank at the same time? I have no earthly idea why the man automatically assumes I was the guilty party. It's enough to make me think I should run amok 52 weeks a year.

Oh wait. I think I already do that.

~Sar~