Mortadella

Tuesday, Dec. 15

You know I made a deal with God.  When I go, I would rather be hit by a Mack truck then watch people like “The Morbids” (visitors who make you more depressed then you were before they arrived) come visit me dying in a hospital room.  Lo and behold a couple of days ago when I was driving down the Don Valley when I looked in the rearview mirror to find a Mack truck right behind me. “Not Today Lord”, I said as I jumped into another lane and raced away.

 

Wednesday, Dec. 16

Hubby is in the doghouse once again.

He told Frick that Mortadella (an italian cold cut) was made out of horse meat.  Now she will not eat it, and that was the only thing she would eat for lunch over the last little while.  So I have told Bobo that it is now HIS responsibility to make her a lunch she WILL eat.  He asked her why she won’t eat Mortadella now and she said, “I won’t eat my friends”.  Bobo then told her that they only make Mortadella out of horses in Italy, not in Canada.  “In Canada, we don’t eat horses”,  he kept telling her to no avail.

Wonder if anyone will want some mortadella for the staff Christmas Party tomorrow night.

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