I was in my first pair of pajama pants this morning talking to my friend on the phone when she said something funny and I started to choke on a piece of ham in the split pea and ham soup I’d made in my Crockpot from 1972.
So I grabbed the closest glass of water. The cat’s. Some went down my throat, the rest went into my lap.
I changed pajama pants.
Later I was talking on the phone with my girlfriend Kristin and telling her about the ham-choking-catwater debacle when I heard noises in the basement and my cat Tom shot down the stairs. My dog Rocky started to follow him, but he is not allowed to do stairs because he’s injured. So as I was grabbing my 86 pound dog, a woodpecker flew past my head and went straight for the picture window.
Kristin heard the ruckus and said, “Should I call you back?”
I say, “No, no. It’s a woodpecker. Let me grab a dishtowel.”
There are chairs all over my sofas (see previous blog post) so Rocky was unable to hurl himself at the woodpecker, giving me time to cover the bird and open the french doors.
Kristin: “Are you sure we shouldn’t get off the phone?”
Me: “I got it.”
I had the bird in one hand and the phone in the other and walked along the icy deck. Then I was butt-first in the snow. (Note: Crocs are not good winter shoes. Not just for the holes in them, but for the pancake smooth tread on the bottom.)
Kristin:”Are you there? Did the woodpecker fly away?”
Why give the living room this fresh new look? Because Rocky (the sofa-sized dog sleeping below the sofa) hurt his shoulder for the 3rd time and the vet said he shouldn’t be getting on or off furniture or up and down stairs for three weeks.
He has his fresh new harness on. We found a sign at the park that says, “Always wear a red harness.”
The injury created a bit of a rough ride over Christmas break, so it was great timing to have Martha Gradisher fill in for me last week. Martha rocks!
So my alumni magazine asked me to write the back page article on their issue devoted to food and foodies. Concurrently, James Branson sent me this video of my strip and his two labs. (Based on the video and the article, I realize I might be a lab.)
What we talk about when we talk about what’s for dinner.
By Hilary B. Price
My toaster has two settings—burnt and off. There’s a reason I am good at stir-fries and bad at omelets—I have difficulty with the idea of low heat over an extended period of time. Extended as in 7 minutes.
There are those who live to eat. Go enjoy the rest of this magazine, devoted this month to your kind. For those who eat to live, welcome to this small oasis on the back page. It’s a place for people whose idea of prepping a meal means pulling the lid off the yogurt. READ MORE…