Steak Fries or Crinkle Cut Fries?

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That was the question I was just posed after I called my father this afternoon. I got kind of confused about who was bringing my medications -- my father or Charlie. It was getting late in the day and enquiring minds wanted to know. I told my father crinkle cut fries, by the way.

"Give me about another hour and a half and I will be over to give you your medications," my father told me. "We are also having a hot dog supper and I will bring you a plate."

I told my father that hot dogs sounded mighty awesome.

"What do you want on your hot dog?" my father then asked.

"Just some chili, mustard, and ketchup," I replied.

"Your mother just went to the Piggly Wiggly and got some sauer kraut. Do you want any?"

"I am going to pass on the kraut tonight dad," I told him. "Oh, and put an extra couple of franks on my plate for Maggie."

My final question was if the franks were by Hebrew National and dad said of course. Hebrew National franks make for one kickass and tasty hot dog.

Onward Ho!

I will be awakened in the morning by a loud knock on the door. Maggie will fly off the bed to look out the window and see if she recognizes the car. When she realizes it's Charlie, then she will go bonkers with furtive barks of joy. It'll be the same when my fathers arrives in the next few minutes I hope.

Charlie won't dawdle. He has a bag of various breakfast biscuits to deliver. We will say "I love you!" as he departs. Maggie will then go into food procurement mode -- making sure she gets her biscuit.