Well, over the weekend, I've been debating what to tell. I actually have two stories. A funny one about drinking Lone Star beer with neighbors on their boat in their driveway, and the other one about meeting a new oncologist. Which would you prefer? OK, I know, the beer swigging one.
So, last Thursday night I started walking my two dogs. The German Short Haired Pointer and our French Brittney Spaniel, Sophie, who is psycho. As usual, Sophie starts out barking and pulling no-stop. As I turn the corner of our street, two men and a woman are sitting on their boat in their driveway. The older man says something which, of course, I can't hear. It sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher's voice, "waa, waa, waa."
"What?" I asked. I was sure they were complaining. I'm making a great first impression.
I walked up to them laughing, "I'm sorry, I know she's the loudest dog on the block."
They replied, "We asked if you want a beer?" Then they fetch a Lone Star, push it in my hand and said, "Drink up." What neighborly neighbors Ken, Mike, and Brooke are.
After some small talk, I decide to finish my walk. "You're coming back aren't you?" they ask.
As I return back down the street, there they are again sitting on the boat. "You're back! Have another beer," they shout.
After a while I say that I'd better tell my husband where I am so he won't think I joined the Russian circus. "Bring him. There's plenty of beer," they reply.
My husband and I learn that this is how they prepare for a fishing tournament the next morning. Are you suppose to be drinking before a day in the hot sun on the water? But if they weren't bothered, then why should we be?
The beer continues to flow. "Umm, I'll have what she's drinking," I tell them. "See, not everyone drinks Lone Star," scolds Brooke who is drinking Bud Light Lime. "That's a chick beer," Ken and Mike tell me. "Maybe she doesn't like Lone Star," Brooke snaps. "She drank one before," Ken said. "She was just being nice!" Brooke growls. They all look at me and I verify, "I was just being nice."
To make a long night short, turns out my family has been the talk of the neighborhood. "You guys have a lot of stuff. We saw all of that stuff coming off of the red moving truck," Ken said. "I like your blue pots," Brooke said. "You have a great fire pit in your backyard," Mike said.
Then, they give us the low down on neighborhood happenings. There's the oysterfest, the Christmas party and the hot dog roast.
"That sounds fun," my husband said. "Good, because your house hosts the hot dog roast in October," Ken tells us.
Wondering how much Lone Star to buy for our hot dog roast?
The Wondering Texan
P.S.
I'll save the oncologist story for later this week. But to give you a heads up, he scolded me for asking if he treats patients aggressively and what his philosophy is.
So, last Thursday night I started walking my two dogs. The German Short Haired Pointer and our French Brittney Spaniel, Sophie, who is psycho. As usual, Sophie starts out barking and pulling no-stop. As I turn the corner of our street, two men and a woman are sitting on their boat in their driveway. The older man says something which, of course, I can't hear. It sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher's voice, "waa, waa, waa."
"What?" I asked. I was sure they were complaining. I'm making a great first impression.
I walked up to them laughing, "I'm sorry, I know she's the loudest dog on the block."
They replied, "We asked if you want a beer?" Then they fetch a Lone Star, push it in my hand and said, "Drink up." What neighborly neighbors Ken, Mike, and Brooke are.
After some small talk, I decide to finish my walk. "You're coming back aren't you?" they ask.
As I return back down the street, there they are again sitting on the boat. "You're back! Have another beer," they shout.
After a while I say that I'd better tell my husband where I am so he won't think I joined the Russian circus. "Bring him. There's plenty of beer," they reply.
My husband and I learn that this is how they prepare for a fishing tournament the next morning. Are you suppose to be drinking before a day in the hot sun on the water? But if they weren't bothered, then why should we be?
The beer continues to flow. "Umm, I'll have what she's drinking," I tell them. "See, not everyone drinks Lone Star," scolds Brooke who is drinking Bud Light Lime. "That's a chick beer," Ken and Mike tell me. "Maybe she doesn't like Lone Star," Brooke snaps. "She drank one before," Ken said. "She was just being nice!" Brooke growls. They all look at me and I verify, "I was just being nice."
To make a long night short, turns out my family has been the talk of the neighborhood. "You guys have a lot of stuff. We saw all of that stuff coming off of the red moving truck," Ken said. "I like your blue pots," Brooke said. "You have a great fire pit in your backyard," Mike said.
Then, they give us the low down on neighborhood happenings. There's the oysterfest, the Christmas party and the hot dog roast.
"That sounds fun," my husband said. "Good, because your house hosts the hot dog roast in October," Ken tells us.
Wondering how much Lone Star to buy for our hot dog roast?
The Wondering Texan
P.S.
I'll save the oncologist story for later this week. But to give you a heads up, he scolded me for asking if he treats patients aggressively and what his philosophy is.
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