Mister Ed Isn’t Available To Answer My Question, So I’ll Ask You

March 31, 2014February 25, 2015 / Ally Bean / 19 Comments

Yesterday afternoon I was driving home at about 25 mph through our subdivision when coming at me on the other side of the street were three people on three horses. Gorgeous horses. Big horses. Very calm.

Just walking along. *clip-clop, clip-clop*

Not knowing what to do when driving past horses on my suburban street, I slowed down to about 10 mph. The people on the horses nodded, waved, but did not smile, as we passed each other.

Ever self-aware, I realized that I may have done something wrong.

So here is my question: when driving through city streets am I supposed to treat horses as cars and just drive on by; OR am I supposed to slow down [stop?] when I see them?

Anyone got an answer? I sure don’t. This is all new to me.

• • •

The One About The Friend, The Dog & The Suburban Grocery Store Salad Bar

March 25, 2014January 28, 2021 / Ally Bean / 14 Comments

Funny story. File this one under: “Things We Do For Our Pets.”

A former suburbanite, who has moved to a condo in a high-rise in the city, still works out this way, near where she used to live. Having shopped in a large, suburban grocery store for years, she cannot tolerate the smaller, more citified ones near her current home. So she continues to shop, either before work or at lunchtime, in her former suburban grocery store.

This woman, who we’ll call Wendy, has an old dog who she adores. And this dog has taken, sort of, to city living. Which is to say that when there are proper treats involved the old dog will do what is asked of him.

It follows, of course, that Wendy is conscientious about having a large supply of proper treats on hand. And because Wendy now shops on the fly, she likes to get as many treats for her money as she can at one time. Easier, you know.

# # #

So, here’s what happened. Wendy’s old dog likes one treat in particular and that one treat is bacon bits.

Wendy, who used to make bacon once a week for her dog, doesn’t like to make bacon in her new smaller condo because it smells up the place. So Wendy has hit upon a solution. This solution is to go to the salad bar in the grocery store and fill up one of those square clear plastic containers with the bacon bits that are on the salad bar.

It is less expensive by the pound to do this than to buy a package of raw bacon. And it is more efficient, from Wendy’s point of view, because she doesn’t have to cook the bacon. Plus her old dog loves these salad bar bacon bits.

# # #

Win. Win. Win. That is until the day that Wendy ran into her suburban grocery store and discovered that the store had removed all the bacon bits from the salad bar.

When Wendy inquired why the bacon bits were gone, an employee told her that some crazy lady kept coming in and buying a day’s worth of bacon bits all at once. And that the manager in charge of the salad bar couldn’t afford to keep the bacon bits stocked, so the manager decided to take away all. the. bacon. bits.

This sad turn of events, caused by Wendy herself, has left her bacon bit-less… somewhat ashamed of her behavior… and now shopping at the next nearest suburban grocery store to her place of work.

Because an old dog has gotta have his treats, ‘ya know? 😉

Fuzzy The Squirrel Finds A New Home In Tree #3479

March 11, 2014February 24, 2015 / Ally Bean / 13 Comments

{Subtitled: What the heck is that little bugger doing now?}

ONCE UPON A TIME…

The Lady of the Suburban House looked out her kitchen window while she was drinking her morning coffee. In a strange moment of self-awareness, she realized that she was not alone. What she saw was her frenemy, a squirrel, who last year she had named Fuzzy. [More about this squirrel here.]

Say “hello” to Fuzzy.

Watching Fuzzy frolic outside in the trees that form the forest that is The Lady of the Suburban House’s backyard, The Lady of the Suburban House realized that Fuzzy, who never seems to leave her property lines regardless of the weather, had found a home of his own in a large tree back there.

Look! It’s the front door to Fuzzy’s home.

Staring closely at this large tree, The Lady of the Suburban House noticed something that she had not noticed before. Perhaps she had not been caffeinated enough when she looked out the kitchen window previously. And this is what she saw: the large tree had a number on it.

Here is tree #3479.

The Lady of the Suburban House could not explain why this tree was numbered. It seemed peculiar to her, but then many things of late had seemed odd to The Lady of the Suburban House, so she shrugged.

This is Fuzzy’s tree.

And then she came to the only logical conclusion that one could come to: Fuzzy had put the number there on the large tree so that his friends and relatives would know where he lived in the forest, that is The Lady of the Suburban House’s backyard.

~ THE END ~

Let’s Talk About Cowinkydinks

March 4, 2014July 29, 2015 / Ally Bean / 19 Comments

So here’s how it all happened.

I went to the grocery to pick up a few things for dinner. Me with a list, even. Rather clued into what was going on around me.

As I was walking into the lobby of the store I thought that I recognized another woman walking into the store. I wasn’t sure at first, but I thought that this woman was my R.A. during my sophomore year of college.

At a small liberal arts university nowhere near here. About eleventy hundred years ago.

# # #

As she was grabbing for a shopping cart and turned toward me, I realized that she was, indeed, my R.A. in college, who I hadn’t seen in decades. So I exclaimed her name. Loudly.

Fortunately, she didn’t seem fazed by some crazy woman, moi, shouting at her. And in fact we began to talk. After a few minutes of re-connecting in the lobby of the grocery, she suggested we meet for lunch.

Which we did and had a great time of it. We even plan to get together again next month to continue the conversation.

# # #

This would be the end of the story if it weren’t for the weirdest coincidence that happened later in the day. While at lunch my former R.A. told me that she had grown up in a town that I’d never heard of before, a small town in the next state over.

That evening Z-D came home from work and told me that he had to get up early to drive to a meeting somewhere he had never been to before.

Where was he going? To a little town in the next state over where my R.A. had grown up.

Now what are the odds of that?