White Dog focus.
It appeared she was asking for a carryout dinner, but as she put it, "To lighten dad's load." It had been a long week for Steve and tonight he was late getting home because he had to stop for pills, both mine the Army's.
The little taco place was right down the street and specialized in Mexican street-food. Their petite palm sized tacos came with authentic ingredients like lamb barbacoa and blackened cobia and spicy pork trimmed with cilantro sprouts and radishes arranged on handformed corn tortillas. They are surprisingly filling and very affordable. I nodded that if Steve was in favor, we would carryout tacos.
Steve wasn't even in the house before the White Dogs began pressing him for his order; he looked at me, confused. "It is late and the WDA wants you to be able to enjoy a relaxing meal without lots of work," I told him. "If you make dog bowls, I can call in the order and you can walk over to get it."
He sighed with relief at the Army. "Thanks, guys. This is just what I needed to hear. No mess, no fuss, no cleanup. Order what you think I would like."
White Dog handed me the flier and I dialed the number listed. "Hi, I want to place a rather large carryout order," I began. "First, can you prepare the cobia without blackening spice? You can? Great. Well in that case I would like seven cobia, six with no spice and one with..."