Don't know if it was restraint or stupidity, but I made it through the week without catching lotto fever. I have to admit to the passing thought or two or three that I might actually be the "one" mentioned in those outrageous odds. But my other horrifying thoughts were about the throngs of supposed long-lost cousins, who I've never met, coming out of the family woodwork pleading for donations.
Would I quit my job if I won? Remember how the Road Runner could disappear in a blur? That would be me sans the "beep-beep". Save the lectures on how a person needs work to give them a reason to get up in the morning. Having the day to myself to do whatever I choose is plenty of reason to rise and shine. Ahhh, a lifetime of Sundays -- always my favorite day of the week -- without the mandatory church services.
Would I shop at Nieman's and say ta-ta to Marshall's? Unlikely. I may be suddenly rich but that hasn't altered my IQ. A bargain's a bargain.
I'd be happy to share my one big splurge with you, if you'd like. After all, a lifetime supply of Oreos is really too much to eat by myself.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
The Passing of Britannica
I'm not sure of the protocol for mourning the loss of an American icon so I created a memorial of my own. Do you think draping my bookcase in black shows sufficient respect for the passing of Encyclopedia Britannica?
The Britannica announced last week that it will be available on-line only. According to the editor -- interviewed on NPR -- Wikipedia and Internet search engines didn't influence the decision, but there might be a tad of the Pinocchio in that statement. .
Personally, I've never fully trusted the on-line sources. I can't shake the image of a guy uploading an entry in his pajamas with twelve cats padding across the keyboard. On the other hand, someone who writes for Britannica smokes a pipe and wears a jacket with leather patches on the elbows.
When we were growing up, the Britannica was a staple in most homes. Just having a set gave the impression that your family was worldly and cared about education. No one need know they were used more for booster seats than research.
Maybe it's time to take a trip to the attic. Those old editions gathering dust up there might soon be collectibles.
The Britannica announced last week that it will be available on-line only. According to the editor -- interviewed on NPR -- Wikipedia and Internet search engines didn't influence the decision, but there might be a tad of the Pinocchio in that statement. .
Personally, I've never fully trusted the on-line sources. I can't shake the image of a guy uploading an entry in his pajamas with twelve cats padding across the keyboard. On the other hand, someone who writes for Britannica smokes a pipe and wears a jacket with leather patches on the elbows.
When we were growing up, the Britannica was a staple in most homes. Just having a set gave the impression that your family was worldly and cared about education. No one need know they were used more for booster seats than research.
Maybe it's time to take a trip to the attic. Those old editions gathering dust up there might soon be collectibles.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Key on Aisle 5, Please
Understanding the criminal mind is best left to criminologists, psychiatrists, sociologists and any other well trained -ists that may apply. They can explain why some people commit the often horrific acts we hear about on the news.
But what about less serious, non-violent crimes? Why would anyone be compelled to steal, oh let's say, common, every day eye care products? I ask because these products are behind a locked plastic shield at my local pharmacy. To purchase a vial of eye drops it's necessary to contact a store employee who meets you in Aisle 5 bearing the appropriate key.
Shoplifting eye drops -- who knew? What's the street value of Visine anyway? Who runs this eye drop underworld? Unlicensed optometrists? Allergy sufferers?
Are these guys part of the same cartel that's stealing liquid Tide to use as currency in the drug trade? If so, they might want to shift their dirty work to Aisle 5. Eye drops are so much easier to get past the checkout counter.
But what about less serious, non-violent crimes? Why would anyone be compelled to steal, oh let's say, common, every day eye care products? I ask because these products are behind a locked plastic shield at my local pharmacy. To purchase a vial of eye drops it's necessary to contact a store employee who meets you in Aisle 5 bearing the appropriate key.
Shoplifting eye drops -- who knew? What's the street value of Visine anyway? Who runs this eye drop underworld? Unlicensed optometrists? Allergy sufferers?
Are these guys part of the same cartel that's stealing liquid Tide to use as currency in the drug trade? If so, they might want to shift their dirty work to Aisle 5. Eye drops are so much easier to get past the checkout counter.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Growling at Mother Teresa
Cranky? Of course I'm cranky. So cranky I'd growl at Mother Teresa if she skipped the line at Starbucks. Much of the country is feeling the same. After all, we lost an entire hour of sleep last night -- assuming you remembered to 'spring forward'.
As a kid, I was told that daylight saving time was to give farmers more time to sow, nurture and then harvest the crops. Under daylight saving time, they could be out plowing well into the evening hours unhindered by darkness. Paints a rather romantic picture of rural America, doesn't it?
As a kid, I bought this line. All hail the farmers! Now, however, Farmer Joe is part of the agribusiness conglomerates who have the means to illuminate the fields with floodlights should they need to get those cucumbers out of the ground and onto your table. Darkness isn't an obstacle. Ta ta to the idyllic rural American image.
The most recent explanation for DST is to save energy. All hail the energy savers! No red blooded citizen of anywhere will argue against energy conservation, but there's something illogical -- and irksome -- about messing with the clocks.
Yes, it's great to have those added hours of daylight after work. Makes you want to get out and do something and we don't turn the lights on til later -- thus the energy saving part.
But did anyone pay attention to the morning. It's freakin' dark at 6AM when I get up. I don't care a fig about saving energy before I've had a shower and a cup of tea and in order to do either of these I must have lights. I guess I could grope my way to the bathroom and kitchen, but that muscle memory knows to lift the arm and flick the switch.
I should feel a little calmer, oh say, midweek. It takes a few days to get my circadian rhythms back in sync. For now, I need some breakfast -- or is it time for lunch? Blast these time changes!
As a kid, I was told that daylight saving time was to give farmers more time to sow, nurture and then harvest the crops. Under daylight saving time, they could be out plowing well into the evening hours unhindered by darkness. Paints a rather romantic picture of rural America, doesn't it?
As a kid, I bought this line. All hail the farmers! Now, however, Farmer Joe is part of the agribusiness conglomerates who have the means to illuminate the fields with floodlights should they need to get those cucumbers out of the ground and onto your table. Darkness isn't an obstacle. Ta ta to the idyllic rural American image.
The most recent explanation for DST is to save energy. All hail the energy savers! No red blooded citizen of anywhere will argue against energy conservation, but there's something illogical -- and irksome -- about messing with the clocks.
Yes, it's great to have those added hours of daylight after work. Makes you want to get out and do something and we don't turn the lights on til later -- thus the energy saving part.
But did anyone pay attention to the morning. It's freakin' dark at 6AM when I get up. I don't care a fig about saving energy before I've had a shower and a cup of tea and in order to do either of these I must have lights. I guess I could grope my way to the bathroom and kitchen, but that muscle memory knows to lift the arm and flick the switch.
I should feel a little calmer, oh say, midweek. It takes a few days to get my circadian rhythms back in sync. For now, I need some breakfast -- or is it time for lunch? Blast these time changes!
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Happy Bday to Our Favorite Cookie
Twist. Lick. Dunk. Follow these easy steps and you're on your way to taste bud nirvana.
Let's raise our voices -- swallow the cookie first -- in praise of the Oreo. Wouldn't you want to be remembered on your 100th birthday? Someone should alert Willard Scott.
March 6, 1912 -- the day some lucky kid ate the first Oreo. Was the twist-lick-dunk ritual born then as well or did it evolve over years of after-school snack experimentation?
Think about it. There are no instructions on the package, so how do we know to take these glorious little sandwiches apart? Instinct, I say and, maybe even a legitimate way to play with our food. Mom might nag about mixing your peas and mashed potatoes, but no mother would ever complain about playing with your cookies -- not this kind, anyway. It's simply un-American.
So this March 6th pour yourself a glass of milk and dunk those cookies like you've never dunked before. Diets be damned. You can sweat a little harder tomorrow. Today it's all about the Oreo and all your fond cookie munching memories.
---------
Note: There should be a registered mark after Oreo but I don't know how to make it on the computer, so lawyers please relax.
Let's raise our voices -- swallow the cookie first -- in praise of the Oreo. Wouldn't you want to be remembered on your 100th birthday? Someone should alert Willard Scott.
March 6, 1912 -- the day some lucky kid ate the first Oreo. Was the twist-lick-dunk ritual born then as well or did it evolve over years of after-school snack experimentation?
Think about it. There are no instructions on the package, so how do we know to take these glorious little sandwiches apart? Instinct, I say and, maybe even a legitimate way to play with our food. Mom might nag about mixing your peas and mashed potatoes, but no mother would ever complain about playing with your cookies -- not this kind, anyway. It's simply un-American.
So this March 6th pour yourself a glass of milk and dunk those cookies like you've never dunked before. Diets be damned. You can sweat a little harder tomorrow. Today it's all about the Oreo and all your fond cookie munching memories.
---------
Note: There should be a registered mark after Oreo but I don't know how to make it on the computer, so lawyers please relax.
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