I will now admit, Brain, that I was pretty f***ed up the last couple of days. I had discovered a raw, ugly, rough patch of skin on the cat's chin. What with his recent weight loss (2 wholle LBs! that's a lot for a cat) I suspected the worst. Probably some form of fast acting cancer, I thought. One that would cost us innumerable, expensive vet visits. Even if we were able to save the cat he would hate us worse than the spray bottle because we had tortured him so. I knew that neither B. or I could handle it if we were to lose him this close to losing Peso. So I cant tell you what a relief it was to hear the vet say, "You know what this is? You know what he has? He has acne." Who knew cats could get acne? Sure he's embaressed, his dreams of an acting career are put on hold. Yes, I shelled out $24.95 for kitty Clearasil pads, but he's going to be just fine, and that is an ENORMOUS relief!
I love Texas! You know why Brain? You know why Texas is home while Florida never can be? Two things.
1. Fresh cilantro. I finally live somewhere where the cilantro is fresh and good! Hallelujah!
and
2. Frontage roads. Texans built them. Floridians, inexplicably, did not. Texans have even expanded on the Arizona frontage roads system by making a special turning lane for those travelers who got off on one side of the freeway and need to turn right back around and get on the other side. Its so convient (as soon as you realise that's what's going on). It makes so much sense! I can't figure out why Florida hasn't figured this out. The only possible explanation is that they have neglected frontage roads on purpose, hoping you will stop at one of their many overpriced tourist traps while wandering the maze of nonsensical streets trying to find an on-ramp.
So, yeah, Texas good. Texas home (for now). Florida never was, even after 11 years.
But speaking of Texas produce (cilantro remember?)... B. and I were sorely dissapointed when, after purchasing some apples from the veggie guy at the farmers market, we discovered spots of goo on each of those apples where someone had carefully peeled off a sticker. A produce sticker. A groccery store produce sticker! Oh you veggie guy, you sneaky bastard you! Here we are paying half a days salary to support YOU, you f***er, because we believe in locally grown produce, and you're just running down to the local H.E.B. (that translates to Publix for the Florida peeps and Safeway for Arizona peeps) buying produce flown in from Argentina or Mars or someplace equally exotic, and peeling the stickers off! You sneaky, slimey bastard!
Hopefully next summer our garden will be producing some of our own veggies. We have also planted an apple tree, and have some Blackberry bushes on order. With that plus my tendency to steal fruit off trees in public parking lots, we may do OK without buying much wasteful imported stuff. Or not. We'll see. No matter what I say, B. can't seem to figure out seasons. He will buy Peaches in the middle of December, and there's nothing I can do about it. So for all my high horses, we are still just your average consumers. Alas.
Hopefully the egg guy is honest at least. I've been getting such a kick out of picturing happy chickens with all their original parts attached (no cut off beaks or poked out eyes or whatever) happily clucking and scratching around in the sunshine. Please be honest Mr. Chicken guy! I'm counting on you!
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