Treat Time

Just seeing the sun behind frothy clouds yesterday morning was a treat after another rainy night.  My barn shoes sprang leaks that would have sunk the Titanic and socks were soggy by the time I got back up from the goat pen.  Ah well, I had to go to town anyhow.

The prescriptions would not be ready until after one, so there was no big rush and I could drag my feet.  Even commercials become more interesting when I have to go to town.  I snuck the trash out of the house so Bess didn't see to take to the big road on the way out.  Does she wonder why we don't travel together anymore or is she relieved?  Maybe she's satisfied with the treat she always gets when I come home.

New shoes and pills in hand, I was going to head home when I suddenly decided to pick up an order of Mongolian beef from a restaurant across the street from Wally World.  That dish holds a special place in my memory.  I once worked several years for a full-blooded Chinese gentleman from Thailand who employed fellas from Laos, Cambodia, and Hong Kong.  It was an Asian United Nations.  Rick (his American name) would periodically send me out to get Mongolian beef for the guys for lunch.  It didn't take too many trips of smelling the aroma before I tried it myself.  It's a simple dish of thinly sliced beef sauteed with white and green onions and lots of garlic in a rich brown gravy.  Ohmigosh, what a treat it was when I got home.

It was a good day.