Bunnies and other things

First, a post about bunnies, in honor of our friend, Steve, who has requested more 'light-hearted' material.

(Read in a Paris Hilton voice): Bunnies are cute, especially fluffy bunnies, with big bushy tails and little bunny teeth. Bunnies don’t complain; they just jump and play and eat lots of carrots. I like white bunnies, but when they get dirty, they become brown bunnies, and that’s gross. Isn’t it, Steve?

Love in my heart, Stephen. Always aim to please...

And now, a comment for our friends down at food service: for real, people. W.T.F.? We’ve left notes; we’ve politely shooed you away; we’ve even mimed “vomit” for you. We’re seconds from taking a bright pink sharpie and writing “ixnay on the foodscray” on his door. Do we have to break out the Dr. Seuss too? Craig won’t eat food here or there. He won’t eat food anywhere. He won’t like it in a house. He won’t like it with a mouse. Not in a box. Not with a fox. Not with a bee. And certainly not at UNI C!

So why the rant? Two gentlemen poked their heads in earlier this afternoon. They identified themselves first with a familiar knock knock, and then a "hello, nutrition. Can we come in?" I could here Erin murmur, "maybe". They went on to explain that they were from food service and wanted to ask a few questions like "have you eaten today?" "He doesn't eat", we replied. "Oh, when will he eat?" He won't, twinkletoes, and I’ll tell ya why: because he DOESN’T EAT. I know it's complicated so we'll separate it: does not, i.e. never. When we said as much, the guys (who I assume were conducting a survey on quality, etc.) said, "oh, then we’ll come back." Actually, please don’t. And, tell your friends at tray pick-up that Craig does not currently, nor will he in the future, have a tray. It’s reminiscent of our struggles with food service back when mom was in the hospital. Someone even tried to deliver a tray when she was minutes from passing. Hey, food service: amscray, and pass it on. -- J