In general,I have a whole lot of nothing to say and I sometimes put it into words. Those words usually end up on facebook as "notes". They are more like essays than stories, but I call them stories. They are my thoughts, my views, my opinions, and no animals are harmed in the process of making my notes. Unless you consider notes about the food I eat equating to harming animals ... I eat meat. Not as much as I used to. OK, that's not true. I eat just the same amount as I always have. I just like it.
That reminds me of a story from when I was little. I was maybe six or seven years old. I lived on Eden Avenue. That is the first house I ever lived in. We had steak for dinner one night and chocolate cake for dessert. My mom, dad, and sisters finished their dinner first. I was lagging behind in the mastication department because once I knew chocolate cake was for dessert, I wanted nothing of the steak.
My mom wasn't having any of it -- my behavior that is, not the cake. She was having cake, and so were my dad and my sisters. My mom cut my steak into pieces and said that I couldn't have cake until I finished my steak.
Stubborn me decided that the fastest way to get to cake was by putting all of the steak into my mouth. There I was, a tiny child with a tiny mouth filled with big steak. I chewed and chewed and then realized there was no way I would be able to swallow it all and cake was not in my future. I was embarrassed, I was cake hungry, and I was frustrated. I cried. I cried hard and loudly. My mom put out her hand, I spit out my steak, and I think (I honestly can't remember) I ate cake.
My sisters, I am sure, were sitting across the dinette table laughing and making fun of me. They were excellent at that, but I love them both deeply today despite their childhood meanishness. (More about that in later posts ...)
In the meantime, i wonder if anyone wonders if there is significance in this blog's name. Well ... if you are, you are about to find out. My sisters reminded me of a family "pet name" for something while I was seeking input on a trick taught to our family dog, Fritzy. The Facebook messaging exchange went like this:
CANDACE: Mmmmm... I don't remember, but I remember we did it. Maybe telling him to sit ... and we would just say ... it costs money ... then give him a treat ... ??? I don't know.. I don't remember anything anymore ... I'm telling you ... I'm going to have dementia and live in a home....
SCOTT: You already have dementia and you already live in a home. You've arrived!!
SCOTT: I remember everything that you said above, but what was the payment? Didn't he have to do something to "pay for it"? Did he have to put out his paw? Give a kiss? Something? What equaled payment? I can't remember.
CANDACE: He would just sit ... then he could have the treat ... I remember now from Christy's story .... What ... are you trying to teach Victor that?
CHRISTY: Okay....yes. He did have to "pay for it"... he would lift his paw. I think we'd say, "you need to pay for it..." and then when he lifted his paw, "it's paid for!" I think we should ask Dad. Wasn't it his trick? Anyway, laughed last night because I told Chris about "poodle"...so funny :)
CANDACE: That is what we called your weenie!
CANDACE: What? You don't remember that? How could you not remember that????
SCOTT: No. Do tell.