His Inner Chi

Plotnik is hungry. But he is protecting his inner chi, which is to say his t-u-r-k, for tomorrow's feast. Here at Mummy P.'s house this can be a difficult assignment -- cookies, nuts, candy, and not a lot to do so filling up the mouth is a constant preoccupation.

But Plotnik has stayed the course, so far. DAMN a burrito sounds good, though.

This morning Plot and Duck have accomplished a lot -- took care of Mummy P's cell phone problem (she never listens to her cell phone messages, so her mailbox fills up. When she calls people on her cell they phone her right back but she doesn't listen to the messages so she thinks they don't care enough to return her call. Then her box fills up and no one can leave a message anyway. Fixed it.)

Took care of scoping out the fix for the front door.

Took care of the various accounting assignments that pile up between visits.

Changed the fluorescent light bulb in the kitchen and the other bulbs that burn out and remain unchanged.

Spoke to the woman at Continental Assurance Company about a tiny life insurance policy that Mummy P. took out in 1949 and has been paying for ever since. She figured by now she could stop paying the annual premium, but it turns out she is on the hook until she is 100: when she hits 100, they'll send her a check. The nice part was Mummy P. got on the phone and told the insurance company woman exactly what she thought of her. When she handed the phone back to Plotnik the woman said: "Sounds like your Mom's gonna make it to 100 for sure."

Three pie crust are in the oven.

And it's only noon.