Bobo Bonobo® wrote:
> On Mar 28, 5:20 pm, Kathleen > wrote:
>
>>Bobo Bonobo® wrote:
>>
>>>On Mar 28, 12:50 pm, Kathleen > wrote:
>>
>>>>I admit it. I am. But times are hard and you take your laughs where
>>>>you can find them.
>>
>>>>So Dear Daughter and her beau were over for dinner and were out back on
>>>>the trampoline, much to Zane's delight. Zane is our big male border
>>>>collie. He has a tennis ball fetish. And a trampoline fetish. His
>>>>favorite thing in the whole world (apart from flyball) is seeing my
>>>>daughter put her headphones on and roll up her jeans. This means she's
>>>>going out to jump on the trampoline, which means he can jump with her,
>>>>and bring her tennis balls, which she kicks or throws for him to retrieve.
>>
>>>>The presence of Boyfriend adds a new dimension to the game. The pair of
>>>>them throw the tennis balls at each other as they bounce, in what I can
>>>>only interpret as some sort of bizarre courtship ritual, and Zane
>>>>retrieves them after the ricochet.
>>
>>>>I consider Boyfriend either foolish or in love because there's no way
>>>>anybody with an ounce of common sense would allow DD to peg a tennis
>>>>ball at them at short range. The girl has a hell of an arm on her, and
>>>>dead accurate aim. And sure enough, she hit him in the eye with one.
>>
>>>>Inside, I dug in the freezer for a package of frozen peas to apply to
>>>>the emerging shiner. Only, I didn't realize there was a split in the
>>>>plastic bag and as I was getting it out, a handful of frozen peas
>>>>spilled and bounced all over the kitchen floor.
>>
>>>>It was funny enough to watch Scully scrambling around the kitchen,
>>>>scarfing up individual frozen peas. Seriously, what kind of border
>>>>collie is mad for frozen peas? But when Dear Daughter added in PacMan
>>>>sound effects... "WOCKA WOCKA WOCKA WOCKA WOCKA"...
>>
>>>>It ranks right up there with the whole "peanut butter on the roof of the
>>>>mouth" thing.
>>
>>>I had a girlfriend who had a cat that went nuts for olives, jarred
>>>green olives. If you gave her a chice between wet food and olives, it
>>>was hands down olives. She'd jump 3 feet or more into the air to try
>>>to snag an olive.
>>
>>I might or might not make an effort to catch a thrown green olive. But
>>you'd only have a chance to throw one of them. After that you'd be flat
>>on your back on the floor with my knees on your chest and I'd be prying
>>that jar out of your hand.
>>
>>Me and the kitty would share a nice snack, no leaping involved. And
>>maybe, *if* I were in a good mood, I'd throw down a handful of frozen
>>peas for you.
>
>
> I'd happily hand over the jar. I like ripe olives, but can't stand
> green ones, and I don't like peas either. The only enjoyment I've
> ever gotten from green olives was playing with that cat. Her name was
> Pluff.
I've always liked the green ones well enough... Or at least no more or
less than any other sort of pickled item.
But I wish you could've sat outside at a street side cafe in Madrid with
a glass of Cruz Campo, a little dish of green olives and another of
salted peanuts, watching a parade of motorcyclists protesting the lack
of guard rails along dangerous curves going past in their neon safety vests.
If you'd been there, I bet you'd share an olive with Ms. Pluff.
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