Between our kitchen and breakfast room is a bank of lower cabinets with a counter on top, open from both sides. This is because of a near calamity involving a 9 year old in the kitchen when she was not allowed there, a pot of spaghetti sauce and, ultimately, gallons of cold water on the floor. After said incident, I demanded (and got) a hole in the wall, through which dinner could be served.
When they sense that food is nearly ready, people start lining up on the breakfast room side of the passthrough, so they can be first to select their food. Ha! Do they really think there won't be enough? Anyway, they're a group of slowpokes, because Thor is always first in line. Sometimes he sits up, but more often he sprawls out on the floor. Somehow, his is never the first plate filled, but hope springs eternal.
On to more pressing matters. Last weekend, I offered a bread cookbook, and was stunned to have several takers. What could I do to decide? After careful consideration, I wrote all the names on large pieces of paper, arranged them in a circle on the floor where Thor always waits for the UPS man to make his afternoon pickup, and, much more importantly, to bring Thor's cookie, and told Thor to choose a name. Here's what he did:
Katherine, you have a cookbook coming your way. Email me with your address, and the guy in brown will take it away the next time he brings Thor a cookie! Buffalo, I may take you up on your offer to trade cookbooks, and everyone else, Thor's sorry he didn't choose you. In his defense, he can't read your names. He will probably make me give away another one soon. Happy Thorsday!