Mr. G, honey decides to drop in for a surprise lunch yesterday. What a sweetie. I’m still upstairs in my office plunking away, not even thinking about food. I can hear him stomping around in the kitchen, opening the fridge. He’s probably standing there thinking, Hmm. Maybe I should have hit the DQ. I know exactly the minute he decides to cruise the counter hoping for a miracle lunch, because he yells up the stairs, “You’ve already had your morning beer.”

Don’t quit your day job, Humor Boy. I shout back. “The sluggies and earwiggies have had their morning beer.”

Really. I planted a small garden of edibles amongst the perennials this year. The tomatoes are thriving, but the lettuces and peppers are being dined on nightly by the slug-wiggie crowd. I decided to go the humane route — let the little suckers drink their body weight in beer and go gently into that good night. Apologies to Dylan Thomas.

I thought it only fitting to send them off with one of my fave Pilsners — Steam Whistle — brewed at The Roundhouse in Toronto. I’ve yet to see one of their fleet, but I live in hope. If you’re ever in Toronto, have a Steam Whistle. Go ahead. Take a tour.

There is one teensy glitch. Given the state of her breath and overall laid-back demeanor of late, I suspect our Golden pup, Gracie, has developed a taste for Steam Whistle, too. That would be with a side of dead slug and earwig. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Something tells me I’m going to need a cloaking device for the Slug-Wiggie Beer Tent.

Elen