10 June 2013
675
R. Linda:
There has to be a mental illness that the Weasil has that hasn't been classified yet. I know he has one, what other explanation is there?
Have you ever noticed the fact that Weasil cannot seem to sit still? Not even for half a minute, no, no, the scamp is up and about and always doing something. The something ranges from behaving to mostly getting into trouble. And when it's trouble he finds, it doesn't affect him at all that others are unhappy with him. He seems to thrive on other people's energy as well. For example, he will arrive at a normal person's abode filled to the brim with spastic energy and before that person knows it, he is being whisked out the door and into some mayhem totally unexpected and unimagined. These episodes I have classed as Mr. Toad's wild rides, or in this case Mr. Weasil's.
What is this disorder? Well, I be no doctor, but I think the Weasil is bipolar to a degree. What other explanation could there be for this behaviour? Though me wife jeers the Weasil is manic-spastic, whatever that means.
The only problem with MY diagnosis would be that Weasil never seems to swing from the energy side to the low energy side of the mood and energy pendulums. He is forever on a happy high with life (I know you are thinking drugs) and never really gets down. I mean if you tell him someone has passed away, he's sympathetic, but it never lasts for long before a joke comes bubbling out of his mouth, but I think that is sort of needed to pull the rest of us up out of the doldrums. But still.
Take, for example, this very week I had two friends pass away while the Weasil was still at my house. He insisted on going to one of the funerals. We were standing graveside, and the minister was saying things like, "Frederick, your family is mourning you, but I know you want them to remember what a wonderful family man you were, but you were much more. I think all of us want those left after our passing to say in remembrance what a good person we were and what a difference we made in their lives." And Weasil whispered to me, "An I wanna me friendies to say, "Hey! Look he's still moving!"
That is a fine example of Weasil humour, inappropriate as it was, I tell ya! He sets you up in a dark, mournful atmosphere and then hits one between the eyes with a zinger.
It seems to be one manic episode after another with the young whippersnapper. He's always getting himself and anyone he has along for the ride into some kind of trouble. He can't help it. Me worst nightmare is being in his company and Captain Jaack's at the same time. I am hopelessly useless when this occurs. It turns into the best one-up-man-ship competition one could find, and it can be fast and furious. I have made a note to meself NOT to engage in any situation which requires them both in the room at the same time, especially if they both be dressed as pirates. If it was Wolfie, at least I know I have an ally in the same thinking on the Weasil . . . but with less patience.
Earlier this week, the reason for Weasil's arrival at me abode, was to drag my protesting self off for what has become the Tri-State Tour. It used to be Dragon, who along with me wife would have me drive them for an annual trip to Kittery, Maine. Not being from here, and as the designated driver, I for the first three years, would drive from New Hampshire to Maine, to Massachusetts, the last not being part of the trip. It became known as Gabe's Annual Tri-State Tour.
Well, the Weasil got wind of not so much the "tour" but the trip to Kittery. He went on up there on his own and had a wonderful time. He took his sidekick that crazy Scot, Rabby Kincaid with him the next time, and then the next year, they dragged my arse up there with them, and to make me comfortable with the trip, drove me to Massachusetts just to relive the experience. I tell ya, I did not find it funny. It took twice as long to get home and away from both of them, and I was well on my way to becoming a crazy person, okay crazier person. So this year, Weasil was threatening me with a trip to Kittery AGAIN.
He arrived in Rabby's car, Rabby being under the weather. Now Rabby is a big beefy type so his make of car was a surprise that he drives a Mini-Cooper. How he gets his 200 lb. self in that thing, I have notta clue. How he would be comfortable driving it, is just as astounding. But that's what he drives. And there it was in me driveway, bright red with a British flag painted on top, and something else on top, Weasil's surfboard! I stood there looking at it holding me cup of joe.
"That's what we are taking?" I asked Weasil.
"Yup, yup, yuppers!" Weasil grinned.
"That looks ridiculous. Why don't we take me Saturn?" I asked.
"Because ya nevah been in a Mini an it drives quite nicely, AND I havta droppie off da surfie boardie," said he.
"It's terribly small and you and I are both over 6 feet tall, so how'd ya think THAT comfy?" I asked staring at the tiny mobile.
"I drove it here dint I? I don't look any worse for it." And he did a turn so I could see all of him, front, sides and back.
I sighed. Okay, nothing to be done but jam our tall selves in and we did. I will say the front seat is surprisingly roomy, so not bad, but still, I couldn't see how Rabby squeezes himself behind the wheel.
In me consternation of fitting in that small vehicle I had forgotten the surfboard strapped to the top. However, it didn't take long to remember it as we hit the highway. Suddenly we were airborne and I was totally confused with a good fright thrown in.
"Wha . . . wha . . . is happening?" I said holding on to the dashboard with two hands as the front end of the vehicle lifted off the ground.
"Oh, it's just da surfie boardie has shifted to aeroplane wing position." Weasil threw at me causally.
"WHAT?"
"Itz okie dokie cuz it won't fall offie."
"I don't care if it isn't falling off, but gees we are almost airborne, stop and fix it. We can't drive down a major highway with WINGS!"
So he did, he pulled the Mini over and readjusted the straps. That position lasted for about ten minutes before once again, we were lifting off! I tell ya the Weasil is more than a piece of work, he's certifiable and if there is any question as to why, THIS IS IT! Only this time I didn't have to tell him to pull over because Officer Mercer of the law did that. Weasil was issued a warning and he feigned contrite until the officer left. Then once again on the road lift-off occurred, and we were pulled over AGAIN. This time by a state trooper. This officer was not as nice as the last one. He was all for a Breathalyzer test for the Weasil. Of course, zippy Mr. W passed it and was issued another warning. Once again we start off and we make it to the expansion bridge between New Hampshire and Maine when you guessed it, we were more than slightly off the ground, we were freaking flying with the air current as other vehicles were avoiding us.
I started berating him and he told me he couldn't stop on a bridge. Well, true there was no place to go but down, but in our case, it was UP! Somehow we flopped to the other side of the bridge and made it to the Kittery exit without law enforcement.
We had to park at the very back of the first parking lot we got to because of the "wing span" of the Mini-Cooper. I almost beheaded meself when I got out forgetting the board was lying horizontally to the roof instead of vertically along the length of the Mini.
I wanted to hit Weasil over the head for stupidity, and he knew I was short of a fury when he informed me the black crows of Calvin Klein had spied me arse in their parking lot.
"He's backie!" He called to them and sure enough there they were. You don't know how quickly the temper left me for the focus on those sales persons who I had got the best of the last time out. Now they were standing there pointing and laughing at me ride. Was the temper starting to boil? It was, and Weasil was no help. He acted as if he were sending me off to war with Calvin Klein by straightening me shirt collar and sending me in their direction. I made like I was walking straight for their door, but instead made a quick right into J. Crew instead. I had the satisfaction of when they saw me coming they all disappeared behind their clothing racks. Yup, they did.
I was joined by Weasil sometime later, which had me worried about what trouble he had been brewing on his own. When we got back to the Mini, the surfboard was gone. I thought someone had stolen it, but he had taken it to a shop for repair. Luckily, it wouldn't be ready for the ride home! Yes, something to celebrate.
After Kittery, we returned to New Hampshire, and we decided to go to the newly opened British Beer Company. Yup, Weasil thought I needed a "mini trip to da UK" and this place was to be that trip. But first, we needed to find a parking space. He wanted to park on the street near the place, so we rode around and no place could we find but the 15-minute parking. So ever onward every street was a one-way, so we kept having to take rights away from it. We got further and further away until we finally found a street we could make a left on. We discussed going back to the parking garage a block away from the BBC. Somehow we managed to make nothing but lefts until we got back to the garage. Only this time we got in line to find the garage was full and we had to back out which took a lot of time considering we had three cars behind us.
I started looking for parking on the street, but Weasil pulled into another entrance to the same garage! I was like WTF? But this time he got in! But then the Dyslexia took hold because there was no parking space open on that lower level.
"We needies us to go uppy," he informed me as he whizzed around passed another Mini Cooper which had taken one parking space that you could have fit two of the same vehicle in. I pointed this out to him as we passed it for the second time, then the third, and then the fourth, where I finally asked him what he was doing?
"We have passed that Mini four times. I don't need a tour of the parking garage. Why aren't you going up?" I asked him as the Mini came up for the fifth time.
"Cuz I can't seem ta findie me da ramp UP!"
Oi! We took a left thinking we were going up this time, but when I saw the Mini for the sixth time I knew we missed the turn somehow. I don't know how many times we rode passed the parked Mini because I lost count. At one point I told Weasil to drop me next to the damn thing he could keep "touring" the parking garage and I would wave every time he went by. I tell ya!
Finally, somehow I saw the ramp-up and directed it to his attention and up we started, but we went all the way to the top at an alarming rate of speed, the excuse being no need to look in the lower levels there would be nothing, but on top, there would be spaces and yes, he was correct. As we shot up to the very top level, there in front of us, next to the barrier was a space and zoom in we went, me screaming to "BRAKE, DAMN YOU BRAKE, OR WE WILL BE FLYING OVER THE SIDE!' And he did, with me seat belt saving me from contact with the front windshield. He thought it funny, but what if he lost his brakes? Yeah, then where would we be? I wanted to throw his laughing self over the side.
But it did not end there. I had scraped me knee on the dashboard at the abrupt stop, so when I got my long self out of the Mini, I was limping like a son of a gun. I looked around for the elevator and there was one next to us, but as Fate would have it, it was boarded up. So we started walking and as we got into the roofed area, Weasil said he saw stairs just ahead. The open daylight he saw as stairs were openings between graduating levels of the upper tier. Which meant no stairs but a drop-off down seven stories. I hit him upside the back of the head for that and saw an elevator 100 yards down and that's where I limped to cursing his arse the entire way.
Once inside I pushed the button for the first level which was the street. Only we went down, down, down to the basement level where what should greet us upon door opening, but that very same Mini-Cooper we had passed a hundred times before. Nothing was said, we just exchanged knowing looks and the doors closed as I pressed the button again. This time we went to parking level six, one below where we started, and an old lady got on. She pressed the button before I could for the Basement Level. And once again, we floated on down and there it was, that Mini as the doors slid open.
"Ya think she doesn't realise she ain't at da street?" Weasil said to me watching the woman hobble into the garage.
"Don't know, and don't much care at the moment," I said pushing the button for the street level one more time. We made it. I don't know how we did, but we did. As we were walking toward the BBC who do we see hobbling 20 yards ahead? The old lady. We were both gobsmacked. How she did that we don't know. While we were riding up and down the elevator she had found a way OUT.
Anyway, we got to the Brit Beer Company. It was good, they had a nice selection of British ales and beers and we ordered our drinks served up with Cajun chips, which was weird, but they were tasty nonetheless. Not exactly British, but well . . . so we looked at the menu and I ordered bangers and mash with bubble and squeak, and Weasil was going to order the Shepherd's Pie but it was made with ground beef.
"Huh," he said to the waitress, "dissy here is cottage pie, I ain't known no shepherds, shepherding cows."
"No, that's Shepherds Pie." She told his British arse in her American accent.
I instantly had deja vu of a breakfast place I had gone to that served Irish Breakfast, but it was anything but. When I corrected the waitress she argued with me I didn't know what I was talking about even if I was from Ireland and brought up on authentic Irish breakfasts. But Weasil didn't care, he wasn't in the mood to correct a rather glaring mistake, and why?
"Because," he said, "Americans dunt know da difference anyhowz."
True, but won't those same Americans who book a trip to the UK be surprised when ordering the real thing to find it has lamb in it? Not everyone likes lamb, but well, as Weasil said, not our problem. But it gets better, I got me bangers and mash AND sweet baked beans to pour over them. Now this has happened to me once before in an American Irish Pub and it was an unpleasant taste. Here it was again! Who does that? Well, I put them aside so as not to spoil the taste of the bangers and it was not until after the meal that I realised I was served steamed veggies not bubble and squeak! I tell ya! The place be billed as a British eatery and they serve American food masquerading as British. Oi!
R. Linda:
There has to be a mental illness that the Weasil has that hasn't been classified yet. I know he has one, what other explanation is there?
Have you ever noticed the fact that Weasil cannot seem to sit still? Not even for half a minute, no, no, the scamp is up and about and always doing something. The something ranges from behaving to mostly getting into trouble. And when it's trouble he finds, it doesn't affect him at all that others are unhappy with him. He seems to thrive on other people's energy as well. For example, he will arrive at a normal person's abode filled to the brim with spastic energy and before that person knows it, he is being whisked out the door and into some mayhem totally unexpected and unimagined. These episodes I have classed as Mr. Toad's wild rides, or in this case Mr. Weasil's.
What is this disorder? Well, I be no doctor, but I think the Weasil is bipolar to a degree. What other explanation could there be for this behaviour? Though me wife jeers the Weasil is manic-spastic, whatever that means.
The only problem with MY diagnosis would be that Weasil never seems to swing from the energy side to the low energy side of the mood and energy pendulums. He is forever on a happy high with life (I know you are thinking drugs) and never really gets down. I mean if you tell him someone has passed away, he's sympathetic, but it never lasts for long before a joke comes bubbling out of his mouth, but I think that is sort of needed to pull the rest of us up out of the doldrums. But still.
Take, for example, this very week I had two friends pass away while the Weasil was still at my house. He insisted on going to one of the funerals. We were standing graveside, and the minister was saying things like, "Frederick, your family is mourning you, but I know you want them to remember what a wonderful family man you were, but you were much more. I think all of us want those left after our passing to say in remembrance what a good person we were and what a difference we made in their lives." And Weasil whispered to me, "An I wanna me friendies to say, "Hey! Look he's still moving!"
That is a fine example of Weasil humour, inappropriate as it was, I tell ya! He sets you up in a dark, mournful atmosphere and then hits one between the eyes with a zinger.
It seems to be one manic episode after another with the young whippersnapper. He's always getting himself and anyone he has along for the ride into some kind of trouble. He can't help it. Me worst nightmare is being in his company and Captain Jaack's at the same time. I am hopelessly useless when this occurs. It turns into the best one-up-man-ship competition one could find, and it can be fast and furious. I have made a note to meself NOT to engage in any situation which requires them both in the room at the same time, especially if they both be dressed as pirates. If it was Wolfie, at least I know I have an ally in the same thinking on the Weasil . . . but with less patience.
Earlier this week, the reason for Weasil's arrival at me abode, was to drag my protesting self off for what has become the Tri-State Tour. It used to be Dragon, who along with me wife would have me drive them for an annual trip to Kittery, Maine. Not being from here, and as the designated driver, I for the first three years, would drive from New Hampshire to Maine, to Massachusetts, the last not being part of the trip. It became known as Gabe's Annual Tri-State Tour.
Well, the Weasil got wind of not so much the "tour" but the trip to Kittery. He went on up there on his own and had a wonderful time. He took his sidekick that crazy Scot, Rabby Kincaid with him the next time, and then the next year, they dragged my arse up there with them, and to make me comfortable with the trip, drove me to Massachusetts just to relive the experience. I tell ya, I did not find it funny. It took twice as long to get home and away from both of them, and I was well on my way to becoming a crazy person, okay crazier person. So this year, Weasil was threatening me with a trip to Kittery AGAIN.
He arrived in Rabby's car, Rabby being under the weather. Now Rabby is a big beefy type so his make of car was a surprise that he drives a Mini-Cooper. How he gets his 200 lb. self in that thing, I have notta clue. How he would be comfortable driving it, is just as astounding. But that's what he drives. And there it was in me driveway, bright red with a British flag painted on top, and something else on top, Weasil's surfboard! I stood there looking at it holding me cup of joe.
"That's what we are taking?" I asked Weasil.
"Yup, yup, yuppers!" Weasil grinned.
"That looks ridiculous. Why don't we take me Saturn?" I asked.
"Because ya nevah been in a Mini an it drives quite nicely, AND I havta droppie off da surfie boardie," said he.
"It's terribly small and you and I are both over 6 feet tall, so how'd ya think THAT comfy?" I asked staring at the tiny mobile.
"I drove it here dint I? I don't look any worse for it." And he did a turn so I could see all of him, front, sides and back.
I sighed. Okay, nothing to be done but jam our tall selves in and we did. I will say the front seat is surprisingly roomy, so not bad, but still, I couldn't see how Rabby squeezes himself behind the wheel.
In me consternation of fitting in that small vehicle I had forgotten the surfboard strapped to the top. However, it didn't take long to remember it as we hit the highway. Suddenly we were airborne and I was totally confused with a good fright thrown in.
"Wha . . . wha . . . is happening?" I said holding on to the dashboard with two hands as the front end of the vehicle lifted off the ground.
"Oh, it's just da surfie boardie has shifted to aeroplane wing position." Weasil threw at me causally.
"WHAT?"
"Itz okie dokie cuz it won't fall offie."
"I don't care if it isn't falling off, but gees we are almost airborne, stop and fix it. We can't drive down a major highway with WINGS!"
So he did, he pulled the Mini over and readjusted the straps. That position lasted for about ten minutes before once again, we were lifting off! I tell ya the Weasil is more than a piece of work, he's certifiable and if there is any question as to why, THIS IS IT! Only this time I didn't have to tell him to pull over because Officer Mercer of the law did that. Weasil was issued a warning and he feigned contrite until the officer left. Then once again on the road lift-off occurred, and we were pulled over AGAIN. This time by a state trooper. This officer was not as nice as the last one. He was all for a Breathalyzer test for the Weasil. Of course, zippy Mr. W passed it and was issued another warning. Once again we start off and we make it to the expansion bridge between New Hampshire and Maine when you guessed it, we were more than slightly off the ground, we were freaking flying with the air current as other vehicles were avoiding us.
I started berating him and he told me he couldn't stop on a bridge. Well, true there was no place to go but down, but in our case, it was UP! Somehow we flopped to the other side of the bridge and made it to the Kittery exit without law enforcement.
We had to park at the very back of the first parking lot we got to because of the "wing span" of the Mini-Cooper. I almost beheaded meself when I got out forgetting the board was lying horizontally to the roof instead of vertically along the length of the Mini.
I wanted to hit Weasil over the head for stupidity, and he knew I was short of a fury when he informed me the black crows of Calvin Klein had spied me arse in their parking lot.
"He's backie!" He called to them and sure enough there they were. You don't know how quickly the temper left me for the focus on those sales persons who I had got the best of the last time out. Now they were standing there pointing and laughing at me ride. Was the temper starting to boil? It was, and Weasil was no help. He acted as if he were sending me off to war with Calvin Klein by straightening me shirt collar and sending me in their direction. I made like I was walking straight for their door, but instead made a quick right into J. Crew instead. I had the satisfaction of when they saw me coming they all disappeared behind their clothing racks. Yup, they did.
I was joined by Weasil sometime later, which had me worried about what trouble he had been brewing on his own. When we got back to the Mini, the surfboard was gone. I thought someone had stolen it, but he had taken it to a shop for repair. Luckily, it wouldn't be ready for the ride home! Yes, something to celebrate.
After Kittery, we returned to New Hampshire, and we decided to go to the newly opened British Beer Company. Yup, Weasil thought I needed a "mini trip to da UK" and this place was to be that trip. But first, we needed to find a parking space. He wanted to park on the street near the place, so we rode around and no place could we find but the 15-minute parking. So ever onward every street was a one-way, so we kept having to take rights away from it. We got further and further away until we finally found a street we could make a left on. We discussed going back to the parking garage a block away from the BBC. Somehow we managed to make nothing but lefts until we got back to the garage. Only this time we got in line to find the garage was full and we had to back out which took a lot of time considering we had three cars behind us.
I started looking for parking on the street, but Weasil pulled into another entrance to the same garage! I was like WTF? But this time he got in! But then the Dyslexia took hold because there was no parking space open on that lower level.
"We needies us to go uppy," he informed me as he whizzed around passed another Mini Cooper which had taken one parking space that you could have fit two of the same vehicle in. I pointed this out to him as we passed it for the second time, then the third, and then the fourth, where I finally asked him what he was doing?
"We have passed that Mini four times. I don't need a tour of the parking garage. Why aren't you going up?" I asked him as the Mini came up for the fifth time.
"Cuz I can't seem ta findie me da ramp UP!"
Oi! We took a left thinking we were going up this time, but when I saw the Mini for the sixth time I knew we missed the turn somehow. I don't know how many times we rode passed the parked Mini because I lost count. At one point I told Weasil to drop me next to the damn thing he could keep "touring" the parking garage and I would wave every time he went by. I tell ya!
Finally, somehow I saw the ramp-up and directed it to his attention and up we started, but we went all the way to the top at an alarming rate of speed, the excuse being no need to look in the lower levels there would be nothing, but on top, there would be spaces and yes, he was correct. As we shot up to the very top level, there in front of us, next to the barrier was a space and zoom in we went, me screaming to "BRAKE, DAMN YOU BRAKE, OR WE WILL BE FLYING OVER THE SIDE!' And he did, with me seat belt saving me from contact with the front windshield. He thought it funny, but what if he lost his brakes? Yeah, then where would we be? I wanted to throw his laughing self over the side.
But it did not end there. I had scraped me knee on the dashboard at the abrupt stop, so when I got my long self out of the Mini, I was limping like a son of a gun. I looked around for the elevator and there was one next to us, but as Fate would have it, it was boarded up. So we started walking and as we got into the roofed area, Weasil said he saw stairs just ahead. The open daylight he saw as stairs were openings between graduating levels of the upper tier. Which meant no stairs but a drop-off down seven stories. I hit him upside the back of the head for that and saw an elevator 100 yards down and that's where I limped to cursing his arse the entire way.
Once inside I pushed the button for the first level which was the street. Only we went down, down, down to the basement level where what should greet us upon door opening, but that very same Mini-Cooper we had passed a hundred times before. Nothing was said, we just exchanged knowing looks and the doors closed as I pressed the button again. This time we went to parking level six, one below where we started, and an old lady got on. She pressed the button before I could for the Basement Level. And once again, we floated on down and there it was, that Mini as the doors slid open.
"Ya think she doesn't realise she ain't at da street?" Weasil said to me watching the woman hobble into the garage.
"Don't know, and don't much care at the moment," I said pushing the button for the street level one more time. We made it. I don't know how we did, but we did. As we were walking toward the BBC who do we see hobbling 20 yards ahead? The old lady. We were both gobsmacked. How she did that we don't know. While we were riding up and down the elevator she had found a way OUT.
Anyway, we got to the Brit Beer Company. It was good, they had a nice selection of British ales and beers and we ordered our drinks served up with Cajun chips, which was weird, but they were tasty nonetheless. Not exactly British, but well . . . so we looked at the menu and I ordered bangers and mash with bubble and squeak, and Weasil was going to order the Shepherd's Pie but it was made with ground beef.
"Huh," he said to the waitress, "dissy here is cottage pie, I ain't known no shepherds, shepherding cows."
"No, that's Shepherds Pie." She told his British arse in her American accent.
I instantly had deja vu of a breakfast place I had gone to that served Irish Breakfast, but it was anything but. When I corrected the waitress she argued with me I didn't know what I was talking about even if I was from Ireland and brought up on authentic Irish breakfasts. But Weasil didn't care, he wasn't in the mood to correct a rather glaring mistake, and why?
"Because," he said, "Americans dunt know da difference anyhowz."
True, but won't those same Americans who book a trip to the UK be surprised when ordering the real thing to find it has lamb in it? Not everyone likes lamb, but well, as Weasil said, not our problem. But it gets better, I got me bangers and mash AND sweet baked beans to pour over them. Now this has happened to me once before in an American Irish Pub and it was an unpleasant taste. Here it was again! Who does that? Well, I put them aside so as not to spoil the taste of the bangers and it was not until after the meal that I realised I was served steamed veggies not bubble and squeak! I tell ya! The place be billed as a British eatery and they serve American food masquerading as British. Oi!
| Me Bangers & Mash with baked beans & steamed Veggies |
But Weasil had an interesting culinary experience with his faux Shepherds Pie he did. It seems that besides the beef and veggies, the potato topping had cheese mixed in. Now Weasil HATES cheese. And it was heavy on the cheese I noticed and when I saw it, I knew instantly, but Weasil not being a connoisseur of cheese couldn't figure out what the taste was.
"Dissy here stringy stuffins looks like cheese." He said pulling a long cheesy strand up with his fork and figuring it out.
"Oh that's not cheese it's a filler to hold the ground beef together," I lied.
"Are ya sure? It lookies like cheesie ta me." He said still holding the string aloft. "It ain't pot cheese, it be sum kinda cheddar. Who duz dat?"
But he ate it anyway.
"Dissy here stringy stuffins looks like cheese." He said pulling a long cheesy strand up with his fork and figuring it out.
"Oh that's not cheese it's a filler to hold the ground beef together," I lied.
"Are ya sure? It lookies like cheesie ta me." He said still holding the string aloft. "It ain't pot cheese, it be sum kinda cheddar. Who duz dat?"
But he ate it anyway.
Now me Mam makes cottage pie with the required ground beef and she tops her potatoes with cheddar cheese as be how it's made in Ireland, but there is no cheese on a shepherd's pie or beef. I have no clue how they make it in Scotland but obviously, the Weasil doesn't partake. In America, shepherd's pie is an unusual mix of beef, cheese potatoes and mystery vegetables.
Once back at the parking garage, we rode the elevator from the basement to just before our floor and back down again. Three freaking times this happened! Finally, we made it to the roof and Weasil couldn't remember where he parked the car. And the reason he couldn't remember was because he had for some reason had it in his head he was looking for his red Mustang, completely slipping his mind what he was REALLY driving.
Well, I pointed out the Mini and it all came back to him, SIGH, and off we went. I was sitting back with a full tum thinking how lovely it would be to go home when I noticed the Welcome to Massachusetts sign. That got me straight up in my seat, where I banged me knee again!
"Where are you going?" I shouted disturbed.
"I needies me a cup a coffee an so we's goin' ta-da bestie Dunks in Mass."
Oh, I knew exactly where we were going, yup I did. Salisbury, Massachusetts and there it was, THIS:
| Weasil's Shepherds Pie AKA Cottage Pie (with cheese) |
Once back at the parking garage, we rode the elevator from the basement to just before our floor and back down again. Three freaking times this happened! Finally, we made it to the roof and Weasil couldn't remember where he parked the car. And the reason he couldn't remember was because he had for some reason had it in his head he was looking for his red Mustang, completely slipping his mind what he was REALLY driving.
Well, I pointed out the Mini and it all came back to him, SIGH, and off we went. I was sitting back with a full tum thinking how lovely it would be to go home when I noticed the Welcome to Massachusetts sign. That got me straight up in my seat, where I banged me knee again!
"Where are you going?" I shouted disturbed.
"I needies me a cup a coffee an so we's goin' ta-da bestie Dunks in Mass."
Oh, I knew exactly where we were going, yup I did. Salisbury, Massachusetts and there it was, THIS:
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| The Mecca of Massachusetts |
I tell ya! Going to Massachusetts despite a protest, just to prove it was a bonafide TRI-State Tour, not a DUO one is the WHY of this. He just had to do it. He could not let me relax in peace and enjoy a nice ride home, NO, we had another stop and this was it, in another state, where the state we had been in, was filled with Dunken Donut places!
We spent a long time inside that Dunks. He just meandered around sipping on his coffee and then he'd go order a single doughnut and meander some more, then go back and buy another doughnut, get his coffee freshened and meander around the place looking at the poster-size adverts for Dunken' Donuts like he was in an art gallery. That I made it home by 5 was just shy of a miracle. I left him at me house while I went to pick up the kiddos from Lego Club. When I came back the Weasil had whipped up a large cottage pie (no cheese), and two banana cream pies. How he did that within 15 minutes I have notta clue though I suspect he didn't make any of that but had it delivered from somewhere.
It was nice of him, or was he buttering me up for something else I didn't expect? That is the vexing question because Weasil just happens, any time of the day or night, one never knows. What was it Wolfie said? Oh yes, on seeing the young whippersnapper coming towards us he said, "Gabe, something wicked this way comes." Yup.
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
We spent a long time inside that Dunks. He just meandered around sipping on his coffee and then he'd go order a single doughnut and meander some more, then go back and buy another doughnut, get his coffee freshened and meander around the place looking at the poster-size adverts for Dunken' Donuts like he was in an art gallery. That I made it home by 5 was just shy of a miracle. I left him at me house while I went to pick up the kiddos from Lego Club. When I came back the Weasil had whipped up a large cottage pie (no cheese), and two banana cream pies. How he did that within 15 minutes I have notta clue though I suspect he didn't make any of that but had it delivered from somewhere.
It was nice of him, or was he buttering me up for something else I didn't expect? That is the vexing question because Weasil just happens, any time of the day or night, one never knows. What was it Wolfie said? Oh yes, on seeing the young whippersnapper coming towards us he said, "Gabe, something wicked this way comes." Yup.
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
