Day 109: The Hot Dog That Didn't Want To Be Eaten

Once upon a Saturday evening Boyd wanted a hot dog. We had purchased hot dogs a while ago and who knows how old it was. I told him not to eat it because it might not be safe. He threw caution into the wind and threw it in the microwave. It came out all mutilated looking. I have never seen a hot dog look like that. (Boyd just said "It had practically exploded. It was so ugly it didn't want to be eaten") I warned him again not to eat it. Boyd was going to sing in sacrament meeting, had a very important meeting, and then was going to sing a duet with Beth during a stake music fireside. I didn't want to chance him getting food poising. Again he didn't listen to his little wifey. So I left the kitchen not wanting to be part of his rebellion. (Boyd said "I just wanted a hot dog!") Seconds later I heard a CRASH!


Looks like Corelle plates are breakable. I told Boyd it was a sign. He said he didn't believe in signs. "It was just a dang hot dog that didn't want to be eaten"

The only thing that consoled Boyd was the fact that we are going with Beth and Scott to an Indians game coming up on May 13. It's Dollar Dog night. Yeah, we are pretty much going to stuff our faces with hot dogs. When Beth asked us to go I told Boyd I hope she isn't going to get grossed out with how many hot dogs we are going to eat. Between the two of us we'll probably down 10 or so.

Lesson learned: LISTEN TO YOUR WIFE!

p.s. That is not blood. That is ketchup on Boyd's foot.