Poop and Pasta

A couple of things from yesterday. First of all, my dog Chandler. Well no, let's mention Mark first and how he reacts when he steps in something gushy, like dog vomit with a bare foot. You would think he had been attacked by a movie monster. He screams out like a white girl and then yells for me to come and help him. I'm supposed to clean up the floor and get him paper towels for his foot. So I do. Anyway, yesterday Chandler stepped in some dog poop. It was his own dog poop, but you would have thought it was some radioactive goo capable of disintegrating his paw. He suddenly turned into the three legged dog as he ran around the yard trying to shake the shit off his foot. So I grabbed him and wiped his foot into the grass. Then I took him down stairs and washed his paw in the basement. Just like I do with Mark.

Second thing, I made dinner last night. Mark hasn't been in the best of health lately so I haven't been getting those gourmet meals I grew used to. I have been doing almost all the cooking for a couple of weeks now. Last night it was Trader Joe's ravioli stuffed with goat cheese. I sautéed some ground beef in a skillet, drained the fat, and then mixed in a jar of Trader Joe's pasta sauce. A little salt and pepper added to the sauce, I then spooned it out over the ravioli on our plates. It almost looked good. On more than one occasion I have been scolded by Mark for ruining dinner. His standards are high and I can barely meet them. Last night, however, when I asked Mark "How is your dinner?" He answered, "It's okay." High praise indeed.