‘I can’t seem to stop crying, and it feels as though I am having a heart attack,’ I confessed to the doctor last week. After some interrogation, he ascertained that I was not only moving mother and big daddy from the big house, but was also expecting dozens of relatives to arrive for Christmas, all of whom are on different diets. One is macrobiotic, one lactose intolerant, one only eats peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and then of course, Big Daddy only eats cholesterol. Do you have any idea how hard it is to plan a menu under such circumstances?
‘Don’t worry,’ he assured me. I am just going to give you a little prescription to get through the holidays. Then you can come back and we will get you some serious professional help’. I just LOVE my doctor.
So I happily trotted off to the pharmacist, took a little pill, stopped crying, and went down the street for dinner with my friends Twylene and Bubba. Have I told you about them? They are fabulous southern cooks, with close links to the more dubious characters in the Country Music Industry. From what I can remember, we had something with grits. But that was after a couple of glasses of wine. [note to self: read the instructions on the medicine label].
The next day, while shopping for groceries with Miss Pearl, I took a call on my cell phone. ‘Honey,’ chirped Twylene, ‘you’d better get your ass over here because your poodle is arriving in half an hour.’
Sure enough, there she was, in a little pink jacket. The adoption lady explained that she is on a strict diet of turnip greens, sweet potatoes, and lean beef. No, I am not kidding:
God knows what she is going to think about English food.
Anyway, it turns out that her name is Blanche, and she has been living in a trailer park in Goodletsville, Tennessee, with some no account owner, and is the rejected love child of Tammy Wynette’s last dog. Trust me to get stuck with a C-class celebrity with a fussy appetite.
But, for what it’s worth, she’s pretty cute:
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