Thursday, December 09, 2004

Dinner was fine, thank you

So batchin' it isn't all it's cracked up to be. Another day without Mrs. Stomps With Foot and I come home, greet Redford and promptly let him outside to do his thing. Funny thing about this dachsund. He goes on a food strike whenever one of us isn't around - like out of town. He doesn't eat, and drinks very little water. After I was home for about 30 minutes I heard his signature "crunch crunch crunch" indicating his hunger pangs had become stronger than his hunger-strike-attitude. This went on for six or seven good bites then it was time to lap up some water. Seems like it's a good thing though, no food so no excretions from the beloved red dog - until I let him outside. Good boy!

Which reminded me that it was time for the Tecaté tradition! I promptly succumbed to the ritualistic liming of the can and we were both happy campers.

Then it was off to Game Ranger for a bit of Ghost Recon. The bummer was that El Capitan arrived and was patiently waiting while El Presidente and I tried to finish a mission. Then, at a crucial moment (as if cued by the Gods) Mrs. Stomps With Foot calls. I am in the middle of a firefight so I break in and advise the team that I had to take a phone call. After a somewhat abbreviated phone visit, I returned to the screen to find that our entire insertion team had been eliminated. I felt bad... both because I let my comrades down and because I abbreviated my conversation with Mrs. Stomps With Foot.

She understands the depths to which I become immersed in the game, yet I still feel guilty when I am not paying attention to her. God Bless Mrs. Stomps With Foot. I called her back about 9:30 p.m. and she was ready for bed and not feeling exactly talkative. GUILT.

Shari, my bride of 34 years, got her nickname from my Ghost Recon playing. Tim Leary's mate's nickname is Looks With Glare, so to honor Dances With Wolves' Stands With Fist character, I named Shari, Stomps With Foot, which she would do while I was playing and she was trying to communicate with me. Now all my teammates refer to her as Mrs. With Foot, or some other variation. I completely understand her exhasperation with me and this game. It is all-consuming, and having the addictive characteristics of heroin, along with my addictive personality... well, you can read between the lines. I must say that I have "cut back" somewhat and learned to discipline myself. Just ask El Capitan when I bailed on the game and he was still waiting to play. Sorry, Cap.

I fried up some bacon for dinner... something to give the Tecaté a bit to mix with in my belly.

My waterbed is warm now, but cursed is he that sleeps alone!