Safe Halloween Treat Handling:
1. Do not purchase the candy more than 10 days before event. To avoid house egging, do not purchase off-brand, cheap candy.
2. Store candy in hidden, high place, out of sight and away from dog.
3. Mention stash to husband only because I could get hit by a bus, and in such a case he might need to hand out the candy on his own.
It turns out #3 was a big mistake. He trotted into the living room with an open bag of Kit Kats a few moments ago . . . now I HAVE to get hit by a bus to prevent candy consumption.
Argh.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Title Envy
Never underestimate the power of a great title.
Consider the following:
People Who Don't Know They're Dead: How They Attach Themselves To Unsuspecting bystanders and what to do about it, by Gary Leon Hill; 2005 (Weiser Books)
Great title. I've known actual living people who try to attach themselves to others, so it makes perfect sense that dead ones would try to do it too.
For the clueless, Hill's book is available on Amazon.
The Stray Shopping Carts of Eastern North America: A Guide to Field Identification, by Julian Montague; 2006 (Abrams Image).
This book was written by a graduate of Hampshire College. Surprised? Me neither. Stray shopping cart identification could have been his "design-your-own" major. Only $13.57 on Amazon.
Living With Crazy Buttocks, by Kaz Cooke; 2001
The review describes this book better than I can:
"To be fair I have to say I have no idea what's between the front and back covers of this book, but to be honest, WHO CARES!? Just having a book with this title in your Library instantly will take your collection from Drab and ordinary to exciting and racy, go ahead and take the plunge, you know you want to."
and finally,
How to Sh*t in the Woods, 3rd Edition: An Environmentally Sound Approach to a Lost Art, Kathleen Meyer
Don't laugh. This book is in it's 3rd Edition (2011), a bestseller in the outdoor category since 1989, with over 2.5 million copies sold. Who knew writing about human waste could be pure gold?
Consider the following:
People Who Don't Know They're Dead: How They Attach Themselves To Unsuspecting bystanders and what to do about it, by Gary Leon Hill; 2005 (Weiser Books)
Great title. I've known actual living people who try to attach themselves to others, so it makes perfect sense that dead ones would try to do it too.
For the clueless, Hill's book is available on Amazon.
The Stray Shopping Carts of Eastern North America: A Guide to Field Identification, by Julian Montague; 2006 (Abrams Image).
This book was written by a graduate of Hampshire College. Surprised? Me neither. Stray shopping cart identification could have been his "design-your-own" major. Only $13.57 on Amazon.
Living With Crazy Buttocks, by Kaz Cooke; 2001
The review describes this book better than I can:
"To be fair I have to say I have no idea what's between the front and back covers of this book, but to be honest, WHO CARES!? Just having a book with this title in your Library instantly will take your collection from Drab and ordinary to exciting and racy, go ahead and take the plunge, you know you want to."
and finally,
How to Sh*t in the Woods, 3rd Edition: An Environmentally Sound Approach to a Lost Art, Kathleen Meyer
Don't laugh. This book is in it's 3rd Edition (2011), a bestseller in the outdoor category since 1989, with over 2.5 million copies sold. Who knew writing about human waste could be pure gold?
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Embracing My Inner Geek
I have one of those "G" marriages. A geek marriage. When the kids turned out to be geeks (beautiful geeks, but geeks nonetheless), it wasn't worth fighting. Instead I celebrated the culture, like waking to a geek pride parade every day these past 20 some years . . .
We even try to out-geek each other, and my husband upped the ante when he purchased a geek vest a few months ago. With 22 pockets, a built-in personal area network (PAN), and four fashion colors to choose from, it was a techno-textile wonder. Kindle, iPad, iPod, iPhone, water bottle, keys, sunglasses, even a laptop computer ALL fit in this vest.
Envy ensued, and I had to purchase one of my own. Readers, this is the real deal. I'll never carry a purse again, and going through airport security is infinitely easier when you remove the vest, fold it into the plastic bin, and breeze on through.
Check out the goods here.
We even try to out-geek each other, and my husband upped the ante when he purchased a geek vest a few months ago. With 22 pockets, a built-in personal area network (PAN), and four fashion colors to choose from, it was a techno-textile wonder. Kindle, iPad, iPod, iPhone, water bottle, keys, sunglasses, even a laptop computer ALL fit in this vest.
Envy ensued, and I had to purchase one of my own. Readers, this is the real deal. I'll never carry a purse again, and going through airport security is infinitely easier when you remove the vest, fold it into the plastic bin, and breeze on through.
Check out the goods here.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
Occupying Fall Street
Monday, October 3, 2011
Why you can never go back . . .
So, we were trolling Wisconsin, visiting old friends.
Hunger struck, and I mentioned a restaurant where I'd worked when I was in college, circa 1978. My tech huband had never seen the place; it was the summer he spent making a name for himself as an intern at Kodak or Xerox or some other now-defunct east coast corporation.
On the drive to the restaurant I mused about waitressing at the Home Plate Inn. Humble as it was, the place gave me experiences I just couldn't get anywhere else. I mean cool stuff, like wearing a baseball jersey while sliding over grease-slicked floors on Friday Fish Fry nights, and even cooler stuff, like trying to learn enough German to speak with the local farm boys, and then not learning enough German, which led to mixing drinks the Germans never ordered, and then having to drink those drinks myself so my employer wouldn't find the evidence of my error, which led to dumping a strawberry schaum torte on a woman wearing a white linen dress.
Well, to get to the point of the story, I can't go back to the Home Plate Inn because, as we learned when we drove up to the place, it's now a strip joint.
"You worked here?" husband joked as we drove into the lot.
I looked up at the sign (Gentlemen's Club, All Nudes). "Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you about that," I quipped, "but hey, maybe they still have the fish fry."
"I doubt it," he rejoindered.
"You think, at least maybe, they have free WiFi?"
"Not likely."
"OK, OK. Exotic male dancers? I could go for that."
He rolled his eyes. "There's a McDonalds back about five miles."
I smiled. "Well, they do have that senior discount cup of coffee. You know, I used to work at this place."
"Yep. I'll save a mental image of you pole dancing with a platter of cod, for later." He winked suggestively.
"Fine, honey, but don't forget I also served cole slaw with that. Cole slaw has so many possibilities. And french fries."
After all, a man who doesn't read romances, even the books his wife writes, needs a fantasy ;-)
More about the controversial gentlemen's club in Lebanon, Wisconsin.
Hunger struck, and I mentioned a restaurant where I'd worked when I was in college, circa 1978. My tech huband had never seen the place; it was the summer he spent making a name for himself as an intern at Kodak or Xerox or some other now-defunct east coast corporation.
On the drive to the restaurant I mused about waitressing at the Home Plate Inn. Humble as it was, the place gave me experiences I just couldn't get anywhere else. I mean cool stuff, like wearing a baseball jersey while sliding over grease-slicked floors on Friday Fish Fry nights, and even cooler stuff, like trying to learn enough German to speak with the local farm boys, and then not learning enough German, which led to mixing drinks the Germans never ordered, and then having to drink those drinks myself so my employer wouldn't find the evidence of my error, which led to dumping a strawberry schaum torte on a woman wearing a white linen dress.
Well, to get to the point of the story, I can't go back to the Home Plate Inn because, as we learned when we drove up to the place, it's now a strip joint.
"You worked here?" husband joked as we drove into the lot.
I looked up at the sign (Gentlemen's Club, All Nudes). "Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you about that," I quipped, "but hey, maybe they still have the fish fry."
"I doubt it," he rejoindered.
"You think, at least maybe, they have free WiFi?"
"Not likely."
"OK, OK. Exotic male dancers? I could go for that."
He rolled his eyes. "There's a McDonalds back about five miles."
I smiled. "Well, they do have that senior discount cup of coffee. You know, I used to work at this place."
"Yep. I'll save a mental image of you pole dancing with a platter of cod, for later." He winked suggestively.
"Fine, honey, but don't forget I also served cole slaw with that. Cole slaw has so many possibilities. And french fries."
After all, a man who doesn't read romances, even the books his wife writes, needs a fantasy ;-)
More about the controversial gentlemen's club in Lebanon, Wisconsin.
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