Friday, March 03, 2006
Big White Box o' Doom
Busy, busy, busy! School is nuts--we're doing the purchasing portion of the course. Purchase = math, which I am so not good at, period. Yeah, yeah, it's basic addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division, but there's all these formulas you gotta remember. Things like how to figure out the Edible Portion Cost of a particular product; trim loss (sounds like something Anna Nicole would be hawking), As Purchased Cost, Food Cost Percentage...blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
Today, however, I am a dip-making fool. I have a small Saturday afternoon reception I am catering, and I gotta make the dips. Spinach Bacon Artichoke Dip, Caviar Dip, Caper-Dill Vegetable Dip, Coco Lopez Fruit Dip (we all call it "cocaine dip" because it's nigh onto addictive), etc. Dip, dipped, dipped. Ye gods!
The Man's dad gave us a gift certificate at Christmas for the Seabear Company, purveyors of fine smoked fishy things. It was a big gift certificate, and we finally remembered we needed to use some of it before it got too hot to ship things. (Check this out--it was well over 70 degrees here on Wednesday...and it's barely March!)
So, I call and order all manner of smoked salmony things. The box arrived this morning via FedEx, and it was a large square white styrofoam cooler. I unpack the miniscule amount of seafood (smoke salmony things are very pricey and you don't get a whole hell of alot...we're talking we can measure the shipment in ounces) and throw it in the freezer. I set the box in the living room. A few minutes later, the Rickety Fat Dog starts wandering around the living room and barking his high alert bark.
I think that something must be going on, because the Fat Dog's whole thing in life is to lie around on something soft and cushy and preferably high up--I think he might have been a cat in another life--and if he start's barking rather than yodeling, then this might bear investigation.
I look into see what's going on, figuring he saw a squirrel or the New Hotness was somehow tormenting him. Nope. He's standing at the chair and barking at the box. The large white cooler. I set the box on the floor under the coffee table, and he curls up near it and growls at it occasionally. What the hell is going on in his pea brain? I then move the box to the guest room and close the door. He lies in the hall, in front of the door, growling at it. The big white box of doom. I can see the entry in IMDB now: Opening this weekend!!! Rickety Fat Dog and the Big White Box of Doom! The chills, the thrills, the excitement of it all! Hope your weekend is as much fun as Rickety Fat Dog's!