I know, I know, I haven't posted any shocking tales of my uncle.

That's because he's off gambling away "his" money while we're here. Bit of a nasty trick of him to play on his (aging) dog, leaving her in the care of four strangers, two of whom are young children.

But here's something. I was browsing under the counter to see if I could find some containers to put sandwiches in (surprisingly, no luck). I found first a box of plastic tableware, which would make sense if they didn't already have enough silverware to outfit a large Jewish family (Passover included!), but no, that's not what surprised me. Seven boxes of oven bags is what surprised me! I can only imagine there was a massive sale and he optimistically thought they'd come in handy in case of the next ice age, because - hello! Southern California, and they don't even have a convection oven! I'm not even sure my uncle knows *how* to bake, ANYthing! And my grandmother never struck me as a great baker either, tell the truth.

Seven boxes. I'm busy boggling my mind.