Indulgence

Wow.  I'm full of it tonight.  I think the heat is getting to me.  While The Daddler was at church, I let the dogs in and regaled them with two of my favorite songs from Oliver!  Namely, I'd Do Anything, and Food, Glorious Food.  They seemed subdued by my performance.

I was channeling Julie Andrews.  If she'd been in Oliver!  One can only imagine.

What a great movie!  So formative for me.   I had the biggest Tiger Beat-fueled crush on Jack Wild.  Who, by the way, was nominated for an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor.  On a sad note, I recently googled him, and discovered that he'd drunk and smoked himself to death.  What a buzz-kill.  How could that adorable man-boy die?  If only I'd known before it was too late.  I could've swept in to be his Florence Nightingale/Mother Teresa/Nancy-Cougar.  Swing low, sweet chariot.  I know.  That makes no sense at all.  I blame it on the heat.  I just walked through the den and I felt like I was an extra in Apocolypse Now.  Or Beyond the Thunderdome.  Or one of those crazy movies whose trailers trigger terrible nightmares.

Even though my dreamboat was cheated, the movie won the Best Picture Oscar (and best soundtrack and director) for 1968.  Now that I think about it, I was just seven years old.  Wait.  Make that six.  Because I didn't turn seven until July of 1968.  That's a little crazy to think about.  There's something wrong about a six year old girl mooning over a ficticious, orphaned member of a major crime-ring, whom she's never met.

Now.  Back to the point of this post.  Indulgence.  After my Obie-worthy performance, I was flushed with feelings of fondness.  Which I expressed by spoiling my two spoiled adorable baby girl dogs who I love more than life itself.  I spread peanut butter (Choosy Mothers Choose Jif, which has never been recalled, like Peter Pan - the cheap imitation) on a plastic plate and sprinkled it with generic Cheerios. 

I selflessly gave the treats to The Daddler to give to the girls (he loves to feed animals, and I'm trying to keep him too busy to start a colony of feral cats again.)  He loved it.  They loved it.  And then I fed him.  With leftover Wendy's chili, sliced cucumbers, and a parfait of walnut brownies with banana split ice cream, topped with a big squirt of Redi-Whip and a cherry on top.  He actually said, "It tastes good." before he even tasted it.  Redi-Whip is worth its weight in gold.  It makes everything look tastier.

All this to say, I'm feeling the love.  For Jack Wild.  My little bitches.  The Daddler.  My upstairs HVAC.  And for one other being, who shall remain unnamed.  For now, let's just call him John.