The Misadventures of Macon's favorite Hound dog

Items that Satch has chewed this week:
1. A pair of Sues reading glasses
2. The dust pan
3. A softball
4. A Norelco electric razor
5. The edge of the step in the foyer.
6. His 2 new toys and one beef bone; chewed to a fare thee well.
7. A piece of weather strip off the front door.
...the new oversized tennis ball was bought today. As soon as he awakens, I'm sure it will also meet its demise. #chewingwearsabodyouthttps://www.facebook.com/george.l.fisher/posts/10155001895778883

You know how when you go to the Mexican restaurant there's the table that orders the fajitas and the waiter walks past with a sizzling smoking plate that makes the entire place smell almost as good as chicken frying?

Well, kids, I will have you know that I jumped out of my normal "I'll have the number 3" and went whole enchilada (if you'll excuse my espanol) and ordered the chicken fajitas.

The sizzling smoking plate that smelled up the restaurant landed at my table this evening.

Wifey says every time she forces me out of my comfort zone I always remark how I enjoy it. She's right, of course.

3 glasses of water and 25 napkins later and everyone in the place knew they were dealing with a renaissance man...ahem. #fajitasdelajorgepescado

Observations in Air Travel

The flight from Denver to Atlanta had several folks from France on board. All of them were decked out on big Harley Davidson leather jackets and western hats-- um, chapeaus, if you'll pardon my French. I was amused watching them taking all that gear off and stuffing it into the overhead storage bins, all the while parlay vous fran-saying , if you'll once again pardon my French, Mesdames et Messieurs..surely they would be in dire straits upon arrival in Georgia, the hottest place on Earth....

The man sitting next to me purchased what obviously was his supper. While the rest of us heathens had the Delta special, i.e. Coke and pretzels, this fellow whipped out the plastic from his money clip-- that ought to tell you something--and purchased what is referred to as an 'in flight tapas snack box'. I know this because I read the box...I don't know what Tapas is--in fact I just looked the word up and its Spanish and means 'snack' --- so a 'snack snack' box...probably established by the Delta Airlines department of redundancy department.

I never heard of tapas-- best I can tell, they didn't have it until just a few years ago, but it appears that tapas is 25 individually wrapped snacks shoved into what should be a KFC 2 piece and biscuit snack. Little dried English peas, yogurt, some crackers, and some hummus (I could smell it) and some other things I didn't make out looking out of the corner of my eye because I didn't want to stare at the guy when he was having his supper, I mean, tapas.

 He consumed his in flight tapas snack snack box with sparkling water.

 Grab that and let it sink in---Sparkling water. When I hear those words it makes me think I need to be wearing a tie.

I, too, had sparkling water. It's referred to as Co-Cola, hallowed be thy name.

If I ever owned an airline, like if I resurrected Eastern Airlines I would call it Georges Southbound and Down Airways, and we would offer the aptly named 'Fried Yardbird Special' snack box' with either wing and breast or thigh and drumstick. For shorter flights we would give out moon pies, in whichever flavor our customers like--chocolate, vanilla, or banana.

 Everyone would be welcome, regardless of the language they spake---um, speak...spoke. And they could keep their money clip in their pocket. For the price of a ticket, we can dang well feed 'em and give 'em free wifi, and, I'm saving the best for last--a lemon scented moist towlette to wipe the yardbird off their hands.

 In the meantime, please refrain from tapasing on the backs of the seat in front of you, and have a pleasant flight.

The supper menu called for a breakfast sandwich (sausage, egg and cheese) served on one of those multi-grained Bagels that Wifey likes. 

I made a command decision and opted for English muffins instead. 

When I say 'opted', however, that really means that I had to come up with plan b, because there weren't any bagels. 

Here's why...

Having just ascended the basement stairs, I saw Satchel surrounded by what surely must have been all the pillows from the den, gnawed to a fare thee well, their freshly gnawed contents throughout the floor. 

It looked like Hells half acre.

My mouth was open. It was beyond open, it was agape. No words came out. Even my adjectives would have to wait.

 Satchel Paige, my floppy eared hound dog who was given to me to ease the pain of not having my grandkids close by, had retrieved the bag of multi-grained bagels--the kind Wifey likes--from the kitchen island. The same kitchen island that is, um, er, was--beyond his nimble reach and sturdy mandible. 

My inability to speak---along with the realization that Satch had just consumed and or scattered the entire bag of multi-grained bagels-- the kind Wifey likes--converged at the same time, and for the next 30 seconds I let fly with nearly all my adjectives, wiping the dust from several that haven't been used in a while.

Bagels. 

Everywhere. 

In all shapes and pieces, chewed and unchewed, not to mention  the larger bagel pieces he took and hid in the corners of the sofa and chair, like he does when hiding his bones for later. 

I was in full afterburner, my phrases spoken in a tongue that fast became a blue streak, but as my mouth was coming in for a landing here's what I saw...if you look close he has a bagel 'stogie' in his mouth. 

Get a dog, they said. It'll be fun, they said.