Sunday night and the Virgin Mary peanut

Regis and I are eating a healthier diet which includes more whole grains. This is our Sunday night pizza...a whole wheat crust, lots of vegetables, home-grown tomatoes, and sausage crumbles that are really tofu but taste so good that I don't know why a guy would eat pork products. Don't get the idea that we've forsaken all our vile ways, as hops counts as a vegetable for us.

While I finished the pizza, I told Regis it was his job to find something to watch on tv. This is totally a man thing: he picked the last fifteen minutes of an Arnold Schwartzenegger movie. What the hell. I didn't like that movie (includes someone hanging hundreds of feet in the air on the end of a crane) when I saw it the first time so I don't want to watch the most stimulating part again. What's with men anyway? Do they all like to watch little bits of things? What's wrong with starting at the beginning and watching to the end of a program?

This is the Virgin Mary peanut. I want Regis to put it on eBay but I can tell he thinks I'm kookoo and so he probably won't do it. We finished the bag while we were sitting outside this afternoon and I looked for a companion peanut but no luck.

A woman stopped while we were having a glass of wine in the late afternoon sun. (The sun on the birch leaves was enough to take your breath away...) She said ours looked like a good democrat house. Could it be the weedy garden? The lack of lawn edging? The long grass? No, it was the Terry Morrow sign. Ha. But still funny. She was looking for Ruth Johnson't house and I thought I knew where she lived so not only gave her that information but a history of who has lived in the house for the last ten years. There was a reception at Ruth's house and Al Franken was expected to attend. Regis is kind of an Al Franken magnet (he thinks it's because he was a fan back in the day when Al performed with Davis) so we kind of expected Al to pull into the driveway at some point, jump out of the car, and shake our hands.

We watched a PBS program tonight about dogs. The dogs that live in the arctic never spend a night indoors and subsist on whale blubber and snow. Border collies in Scotland run up and down steep hills all day, and follow whistle commands from as far away as half a mile. I tried to wake Kramer up to make him watch so he would be reminded of how good he has it, sleeping on a Slumberland bed and napping on a leather love seat, but he resisted. I think I saw his eye twitch once so I know he was listening.

Big storms coming tonight, Miles. Keep an eye on the radar and close the windows before you go to sleep.