Rottweilers and casseroles and friends

It’s been a couple of days of craziness.  Between window fixin’, kid’s schoolwork, bidding new jobs, Jinni’s chemo treatment yesterday, and so forth and so on – blogging has taken a back seat to my other lives.


Because this is chemo week, our friend Rachael did her usual outstanding job of lining up rides and meals within the circle of friends and neighbors who have responded again with uncommon and unselfish generosity.  We eat very well in the days following Jinni’s treatments, so much so that the kids count the days until chemotherapy comes around again.  Tonight was no different… at least for the Hoggards.  For tonight’s food provider however, it was an adventure.  Here’s the setup.


I was out of town driving in from a job down in Concord.  Jesse and Josie were at a friend’s birthday shindig.  Jinni had left to go get Jackson from a friend’s house.  She left a note on the door saying she’d be back soon.  Oh, and yeah, we have three dogs in the house: two Rottweilers and a Pekingnese (strange but true).  Dinner was to be delivered, again, by someone you might know – see if you can guess who that might be from the email I just received. (names have been changed to protect the recipes) Hint: It’s not Cone and you know it wasn’t Roch because the correspondent didn’t mention checking the fridge for beer.



HOGGARD! You are so NOT worth it!

 

So, we come to the door, and since it was dark we decided to not trek to the backyard. The door was open. IT’S 2005! Who doesn’t lock their door in 2005? Balancing casserole and cake we push the door open and are greeted, GREETED, by these animals who were charged with keeping your home safe. THEY DON’T WORK. Though I must admit, after the sloshy greeting I quit looking for TVs and CD players anxious to get home and take a shower! They greeted us because they smelled the chicken, I suspect. Yes, chicken. Not tofu! I’ll slip it in yet. Actually I had a brick of tofu in hand but Daughter said it wasn’t fair for someone to expect food and get tofu.

 

We fought our way to the kitchen and left the food. I looked for sticky notes to leave instructions and while a part of me felt creepy picking through your stuff, hey, you freakin’ left the front door open! Jeez!

 

Getting in with meat was tough. Getting out proved to be tougher! “Here,” said Daughter, “You take the box, I’ll hold back the dogs.” So, I get out. She tried to slither through as narrow an opening as she could and still keep the dogs back. Big dogs, successful. Little, ankle biter dog slips out. I said, “Come here.” He stopped, turned around, said, “Fuck you,” and headed across the street. It was like “red-light, green-light.” When he’d turn his back I’d try to sneak up on him. His downfall came when he decided he had to pee on every slat in your neighbor’s fence. We corralled him. Daughter went to pick him up. “Nope, he doesn’t want to be picked up.” I think he said something about “Your Mother” and Sucks,” and ”Hell,” but I’m not sure. I grabbed his collar and, hunched over, because of course the LITTLE dog escaped, urged him, (he’s probably said roughly, but I have to tell you, he’s a liar) across the street and to your front porch, where Daughter gently, (he’s probably said roughly, but he’s such a liar, that dog!) pushed him inside, while trying to keep the others, the ones who could outrun us, in.

 

HOGGARD. YOU ARE SO NOT WORTH IT!

 

You’d better be glad Jinni is!

Thanks, friend…   Not just for the casserole and cake, which are suitable for serving at a four-star eatery, but for making me laugh so hard my stomach still hurts.  I needed that.


Thursday, Jinni passed the half-way mark for her pre-surgery series of chemotherapy.  The lump in the lymph node under her armpit is perceptively smaller – the one in her breast hasn’t shrunk as much, but I keep checking on it.  She has to keep reminding me that the proper way to conduct such an examination does not involve the examiner’s mouth.

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