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      Friday, July 03, 2009


foodstuff
12:16 PM - 07/03/2009

The topic: Black Angus

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We went to Black Angus the other night for the first time in ages.

I do the MyPoints thing and had earned enough points to get fifty dollars in gift cards. Earlier this week, the mail brought junk mail and one piece had a coupon for $13.00 off of their twofer special.  We figured we’d take advantage of it. 

Since the filet mignon was not one of the pieces of meat offered with the coupon (it was with the twofer, but not using the coupon) I went with the chicken. I chose “teriyaki”.

I remember when I first started dating, my first true love would take me to a nice restaurant by the name of Hungry Hunter (not too many of those around). One of his good friends managed one of the local restaurants.  And I would have the teriyaki steak.  It was tender, it was tasteful and it was really good.  The meat was marinated in a teriyaki sauce for at least twenty-four hours before serving.  It was cooked to perfection.

Well, that chicken I got at Black Angus? What a disappointment.  They cooked the chicken, slapped the sauce on it after, and called it “teriyaki chicken”.  I guess they’d do the same if you ordered “barbeque chicken”.  Cook it, then slap some barbeque sauce on it. 

We had the big mountain fudge cake for dessert.  We split it.  It’s a large piece of chocolate cake, with a scoop of ice cream on top and a container of hot fudge to pour over it.  The cake was dry, the fudge wasn’t hot (didn’t pour worth squat). 

I might as well have eaten at Carl’s Jrs.  At least the dinner only ended up costing us seven bucks, what we left for a tip (not real impressed with our server).  There’s still $6.85 on the card.

Won’t go back there for a long, long, long time. I wonder if it used to be so good because we’d had a few alcoholic beverages beforehand. Booze has been known to impair judgement, you know.


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catstuff
07:59 AM - 07/03/2009

The topic: Daggum cats

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They sure try my patience. You’ll never hear me threaten to find them different homes, that’s not gonna happen as long as I’m healthy, but sometimes I think about me running away for some peace and quiet.  A story from last night.

I had finished my dinner and we heard much chirping and squawking from on the patio. I ran out to see what was going on. One of the cats had a bird (it all happened so quickly, which cat didn’t register) and the mate or parent bird was going after this cat. The cat let loose of the bird when double teamed by the other bird and me and started to fly away.

Opie grabbed it before it had a chance to get very far up in the air. This fat woman (me) was chasing Opie, yelling “no! no! no! no!” (I had no idea I could move that fast.) He ran into the garage via the cat door. If that bird got loose in there, it would have been a nightmare with the rafters and all.

He ran behind a cat tree, I gave chase, was on my knees and this worried him more than keeping the bird in his mouth and he dropped the bird and ran inside. I reached in and got the bird, which, thank God, was none the worse for wear. I took it outside, it giving me hell and trying to bite me and I put it through one of the spaces between the wire on the fence modification. I took care to not hurt the wings. It flew away. Then it flew back into the tree. My hands flew in the air “go away until the cats cool down!” flew out of my mouth.

Brian says “those birds are teasing the cats!” You know, I really don’t care who’s teasing whom, there will be no dead birds in my yard because of my cats if I can help it.

I have no idea why it’s so bad this year. Maybe Skipper and Spot are excellent hunters, can leap ten feet straight into the air or something. But I’m not liking it at all.


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lisaviolet is seventy something, married with no kids, takes care of lots of cats, likes taking photographs, loves Southern California weather and spends altogether too much time avoiding her responsibilities.

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