December 26, 2006

White Dog scarfed the ropa vieja and pollo asado leftovers before pronouncing the new Cuban restaurant acceptable. She cuddled next to Adam sniffing his coveralls as we washed tamarind juice out of the jeans he wore to dinner. White Dog was not crazy about the tamarind smell. It was a relaxing evening of drinking tea, opening gifts, listening to music and celebrating the season together.