Sunday morning was the usual drill only this time we had a blazing fire in the fireplace. About six months ago, a huge limb came crashing down off the ol' Elm tree in the front yard. We cut it up and have been using it for firewood. There is something very satisfying about growing your own firewood.
After breakfast, the Dawg and I headed back to the office for about 3 hours. Then to BevMo. I rarely ever go to BevMo - I don't have one near my house and, to my knowledge, there isn't one on my regular route from hither to yon. But there is one between the office and the Balboa Dawg Park.
For those who don't know, BevMo is the WalMart of alcohol. Where your local grocer will carry 5 types of Vodka, BevMo will carry 25. I decided to stop by and peruse the Bourbon isle in search of something "cheap and yum". They had a dizzying array of choices. So what do I buy? The same old cheap rock-gut I always buy at the grocery store.
At the check out, you are supposed to swipe your club card. Naturally, I did not have mine on me since I rarely ever visit the store. The checker did a half-eye roll and asked for my phone number. She keyed it in and asked, "Is your name Teresa?".
"Uh, no."
"Well your phone number is registered to a Teresa."
"Does it matter?" I replied.
It was as if you could see the scales fall from the checker's eyes. "No, I guess it doesn't". And I was on my way.
The dawg and I headed for the Balboa dawg park to stretch our legs since he had spent most of the weekend horizontal on the floor of my office. The usual romp ensued. I struck up a conversation with a man who's dawg was doing it's best to playfully eat the face off my dawg. He commented on how well behaved my dawg was and asked if I ever go to the dawg beach in Coronado.
"No," I replied, "I go to the dawg beach in Ocean Beach".
"Oh" he said - and then he proceeded to explain through his thick Indian accent that he had heard that it was a pretty rough crowd of canines that frequented Ocean Beach.
"You would like the dawg beach in Coronado. It's beautiful and everyone is so nice".
This is the second time in a week that someone has:
1) Commented on how well my dawg plays with others
2) Recommended that I would like Coronado's Dawg Beach better than the OB Dawg beach
It's as if we have been invited into some sort of club. Now that I think about it, there may be some truth to the rumors about the OB Dawg Beach.
Once the dawg had run himself out and was reduced to laying in the grass panting, we loaded up and headed for home. I had to stop by Home Depot to pick up another hose because as the dawg has now pulverised two of the three that we own.
Which brings me to the whole point of this post (I actually was just going to head straight to the office without posting this morning but this just had to be shared). Home Depot has a section where they lay out all the Christmas gear every year. Yesterday, all the aisles and shelving were up but none of the decor had been unpacked yet. From floor to ceiling, as far as the eye can see, were pallets of holiday cheer waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting populace:
That's right. XMES. I was tempted to tell the clerk that he had mis-spelled it. "You left off the second 'S'".
Only 71 shopping days left.
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