Sneaky.

Lately Kilgore has taken to hiding things under a rug in the living room. Rawhides, Nylabones, and various stuffed and squeaky friends have been discovered in a lump under the coffee table. Now he's kicked it up a notch: The b.h. found a dinner plate, which had been left on the table the previous night, licked clean and tucked away. Fortunately it didn't break when he stepped on it.
The blueberry pie is absolutely fantastic. I am allowed to say so because I had absolutely nothing to do with it. The b.h. made the whole thing himself, including a vodka crust and whipped sour cream topping.
I hurt my knee the night before last, so after staying in bed way too late yesterday, I spent almost the entire day on the couch with an ice pack. The pecan pie will have to wait until Tuesday. I did shell some pecans to prep for it. Man, is that a pain in the ass. Now I understand why pecan halves cost seven bucks a pound even though they grow on every street in the whole state.