Sunday, December 1, 2013

A Spark!

There is not a scintilla of evidence supporting [Miss M's] "so-called" correct pronunciation of "wool."
--A. Leland
She didn't even have a scintilla of remorse for scarfing down the last scraps of the leftover ribs.
--Miss M
Oh. I get it. Miss M read her sentence and I was like, "What? Missy didn't get any ribs last night." Now I get it.

It wasn't the ribs she was scarfing down. It was the rib juice/marinade at the bottom of the foil-lined pan in which last night's ribs baked. 

By way of explanation, Missy has a bad habit of waiting in the kitchen's shadows for the kitchen to become vacant. That's when she puts her paws up on the counters. Usually, when I approach the kitchen, she scurries like a little rat and through habit gets in her box. Today, I walked in on her licking the foil. It wasn't until I was right next to her that she realized she'd been caught red-tongued with her nose in the pan. 

That's the story to which Miss M's sentence refers. 

You'd think she'd learn-- Missy, that is. Maybe she has. She must be doing some doggy utility cost-benefit analysis. "Get in my box? That's the punishment? I love my box! Here's my calculation: I snag a few morsels, 'get in my box' and relish the taste. I especially like it when you draw the blinds over my box... it's so warm and dark and... . You have no idea how good my box smells to me! "

Dang. Maybe I should get a stick.
"Flue" and "flume" differ only by a scintilla.
--Mr. Big Food
Inside, family joke. 
Despite years of personal, political, and religious oppression, a scintilla of human dignity remained in the Pilgrims-- a spark that could only be kindled in the New World.

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