My Day Went to the Dogs

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This story has a point. Really. If I forget the point, please yell at me.

We're in the process of tearing off our old siding. That's not to say that we're replacing it with anything but black plastic. But we're taking off the warped and rotting siding and trim. This is going to consume all of our finances for the next few months, quite possibly years, depending on how we work it.

Once the siding and roof (yes, the roof) are done, I think the Hunny would like to remodel the kitchen. Maybe ten years from now, when we can afford to do something that large again. Until then, I have a rather useless area in my kitchen, where I keep the rolling cart and rotisserie oven. When the Hunny and his family remodeled our last kitchen, he purchased both the cart and the oven. I loved the cart instantly, but it took me awhile to warm up to that oven. Once I did, we moved and I had no place for it, till the Hunny set it on the cart. Which means I can't cut or roll on my cart, but oh well. For now.

In the last remodel, the Hunny hung a shelf with sturdy pot hooks above my cart, since we had a drop ceiling. Until we can remodel, he's talking about another shelf above the rotisserie, which would be nice. Because currently my cookbooks are on top of my fridge. I was pretty proud of that, putting them in baskets and all, seeing how the dining room is tiny and there's no place for shelves. But it sure would be nice to clear off the top of the fridge, especially since it's the first thing you see when walking into the kitchen. So I'm envisioning (envision with me, please) a sturdy shelf for the cookbooks on my useless wall, with hooks for the pots which take up too much cupboard space, and the rotisserie on the cart below. A neater kitchen.

When we use the rolling cart - the boys love to make homemade pizza in the summer and it's a perfect work space - I place the oven on top of my corner cabinet, which was its original home when we moved to Tulsa. I can't wait till the boys are making pizza again! But for now, the oven is out. It was out yesterday, when I rotisseried a chicken. I oiled it, cut rosemary from my garden and shoved pieces of it under the skin all over, coated it with a rosemary garlic seasoning I bought at Sam's awhile back, then set it and forgot it. It was finished about the time I had to leave for my drug testing for my new job, so I set it on a plate on the counter to cool. And left. And came home more than an hour later. To a wonderful roasted chicken smell. And no roasted chicken. Guess what happened. Anyone?

First, let me just say that I'm at the tail end - the dregs - of this rotten cold. And I had a wicked headache when I got up yesterday, but foolishly didn't take Excedrin because of the drug test. So I came home in tremendous pain, only to find the lunch I'd looked forward to all morning was GONE.


See these scoundrels? They look all innocent and pretty in this picture, sure. But they ATE MY ROSEMARY CHICKEN!!!! EVIL EVIL DOGS!!! I. Will. Never. Forgive them.

Not to mention what cooked chicken bones can do to a dog's intestines. That was honestly my first concern as I threw them outside. They stayed out most of the day, but nothing happened. Not tummy upset, not howling or moaning. Not even funny potty. In fact, that rat, Patches, snuck into the kitchen and ate the cat's food before bed. She's the one closest to the camera. Today they seem perfectly normal. The nearest I can figure, the chicken was still freshly cooked enough for the bones to be somewhat pliable. Not yet brittle. And believe me, I did plenty of online searching yesterday to see what I could do.

See? There really was a point to my kitchen remodel blathering. Anyone out there want a couple of thieving, no good, scoundrels?

Until I write again ...

Flea