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Welcome to the BOMB.

The Blog Of the "Mother" of Bandit.
Bandit is my Hairless Chinese Crested--he's the "normal" one. I, on the other hand, am unrepentantly "pet-crazy." You know the type--the spinster who lives in the haunted house three blocks over with 72 cats...okay, so I don't have 72 cats, and my house isn't haunted--but my dogs wardrobe is better than mine! Need I say more? :~)
I've never been consistant at journaling, so the timing of my blogs will be sporadic at best. I just hope they are as entertaining to you as they are to me; however, be forewarned: Most of my blogs will be about The BaldOne. In spite of his Don King "do," I think he's just as cute as any of the Brothers B!
Now, if I can just remember not to get him wet--or feed him after midnight...

About Me

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My bags are packed and I'm always ready to seek out an adventure with Bandit and Moggy in tow. Bandit is my thirteen year old Chinese Crested, who I frequently call The Bald One or The BaldOne Boy (like he was one of the Baldwin Brothers). Moggy’s full name is Pip-Moggy. He’s my two year old gansta-resuce kitty. I couldn’t decide between Pip (which are the spots on die and domino tiles) and Moggy (or Moggie when I mistakenly thought he was a she), so I combined the two. Moggy refers to the British term for "cat of unknown parentage .” So in essence, I have an almost bald dog, and I’ve named my cat “Spot.”

Fun Stuff (I'm doing now or have done)

  • Artistic Attempts weekly (alternating between Painting With A Twist, That Art Place, and Peniot's Palette).
  • Bunko with the Belton Bunko Babes monthly.
  • Participating in the A to Z Blogging Challenge.
  • Spades and Liverpool Rummy with the Spadetts weekly.
  • The Mighty Texas Dog Walk, Austin (fund raiser for Service Dogs, Inc--they train shelter dogs to be Service Dogs, then give them free of charge to people with disabilities.)

Sunday, April 10, 2016

I Haven't Lost My Touch

There were two checkout lines...

In Line 1 stood a couple with a half full basket, most of which had already been scanned.  In Line  2 stood a single guy with an over-loaded cart.  After a brief analysis of the situation, I bolted for Line 1.

I should have known better--I always choose the wrong line. It's a gift. And a curse. (To steal a line from one of my favorite  detectives of all times--Adrian Monk.) 

Not only did the Checker of Line 2 finish the loaded cart--he checked out THREE more people before the Checker in Line 1 finished with the half loaded cart in front of me!

The reason?  The Checker in Line 1 had to call the Service Manager to his register three times--first, he rang up a single cucumber as 14.  The SM was nearby on the floor so she was there pretty quick. 

Next, on the next to last item, he hit the tender key when he was ringing up a couple of tomatoes. He (perhaps rightly) said it was in an awkward place--the tender key--not the tomatoes. We had to wait until the SM arrived from the office. I included myself in the "we," because, being ever so helpful, I had already unloaded the contents of my cart onto the conveyer belt. 

The third time wasn't the Checkers fault. The customer waited until he paid for the cart of food before he decided he needed a tin of chewing tobacco. The SM was called a third time. 

I had the distinct feeling the Cashier had been calling the SM multiple times before this customer--each time he realized he needed to call her again, he said,"She's gonna kill me."  

I empathized with him. I've had those days when absolutely everything went wrong and everyone I came into contact with must have thought I was a royal screwup. They were wrong. I turned out alright. I'm sure, given time, a little encouragement, and a whole lot of patience, this kid will turn out okay as well. 

Anyway,  I haven't lost my touch--no matter which line I choose, it's almost always the one that breaks down. Especially if technology of any kind is involved.  :~) 

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