Resolution Time

Well, whaddya know…’tis the season once again for making those pesky New Year’s resolutions.

Growing up, Mom would encourage me to set out some goals for the year. Good grades, a clean room, and no fighting with my brothers constituted the usual and customary list. I was usually pretty good at keeping those resolutions, too – right up to January 3rd. As an adult, my annual resolutions have nearly always included losing weight and exercising more. And I do great – right up to January 3rd. Oh well. I just do resolutions my way. In honor of my fine make-it-and-break-it resolution tradition, enjoy these…

Happy New Year's resolutions, everybody!

String Me Along...

What’s your favorite part of the holiday season? Fudge? Greeting cards? Scotch tape? Personally, I’m a sucker for Christmas lights. Whether the light strings are dangled from the eaves, draped across the shrubs, or twisted around the trees – the colors, variety and wattage are just amazing.



My love of Christmas lights began way, way back when I was a kid. The whole famn damily would pile into the old Dodge station wagon for a drive around the neighborhoods to look at the lights. The snow diffused the colors into big pools of holiday Technicolor while the icicles magnified the lights’ brightness. Combine the sights with treacherously slick roads and no seat belt laws and there’s a ride to remember!


Dad was a sucker for Christmas lights, too, even though they almost killed him…


According to family legend, on one fine January clearance sale day, Dad found the best price EVER on Christmas lights. He bought every single box and stashed them away in anticipation of the best EVER light display. Months later, he opened all those boxes only to discover they were not the string-to-string variety. After considering the extension cord complications, Dad decided to splice all the lights together into one big, long, giant string. He worked along methodically, carefully splicing one string to another, holding the bare wire ends in his mouth as he went. It was at one such critical molar-clenching moment that one of my brothers (who shall remain anonymous) decided to plug in the lights.


Snap! Crackle! Pop! Not in the good cereal kind of way either. More like the electrocution kind of way. The current surged through Dad’s molars and knocked him off his feet. My guilty brother quickly unplugged the lights while the innocent brother checked to see if Dad was dead. After Dad was able to sit up again, both boys asked if he could do that again…


So two root canals later, it really was an awesome light display.


Enjoy all of your favorites this holiday season and please remember to plug in carefully!

Ditto Dining

Have you ever been a Ditto Diner?  You know what that is – eating at the same place twice in the same day.  Ditto dining doesn’t happen often, but in my rural and restaurant-restricted corner of the world, it is always a possibility.  So last week, I was a Ditto Diner.

After a morning clinic away from the office, my co-workers and I enjoyed lunch at a favorite local place known for it’s mouth-watering menu.  Personally, I like the half-salads.  They have only half the greens but a full-salad amount of tasty toppings.  After all, lettuce can’t hold a candle to bacon…  That being said, the half Cobb salad with honey-mustard dressing was very yummy indeed.  Please see Exhibit A.

At the end of the workday, my husband and I arrived home at the same time.  I was tired and he was hungry.  Round one of Rock-Paper-Scissors determined that we were eating out rather than subsisting on cold cereal.  Round two determined he was choosing the restaurant.  And thus I became a Ditto Diner.  In and of itself, that’s not bad.  I just didn’t want to be a Ditto Diner with the same waitress.  Awkward!

While the half-salads are not to be missed, neither is breakfast.  And what is better for dinner than breakfast?  I recommend the French toast.  It comes with a little cup of fluffy butter, assorted fruity syrups, and good ol’ fashioned warm maple syrup.  Please see Exhibit B.

If you can, please try to be a Ditto Diner soon.  It is a full-filling experience.

Two items of note:  The diet Coke was simply a calorie neutralizer.  You will also notice bacon in both exhibits.  In my defense, I only ate the salad bacon.  The dog ate the entire amount of ditto dining bacon as a reward for not chewing up the car interior while she waited for her humans.

Alas poor Yorick, 'tis the season!

Alas, poor Yorick!  He was a fellow of infinite jest, now subject to the whims of Halloween and my kitchen.

And so 'tis the season...er, the seasonings to which all mankind, common or not, will turn.

That's gotta hurt, getting salt AND pepper in your eyes at the same time.



Many thanks, Uncle Dale, for the funniest, creepiest, Shakespeare-iest     salt-n-pepper combo of all time!

I just don't know if I can put Yorick away after Halloween...

The Holey Land

I've always wanted to travel the world and see the sights.
London, Paris, Rome, Cairo, Jerusalem-all just waiting for me.
Little did I know that the world would come to me instead.
Welcome to the Holey Land!

Yep, the Holey Land -- right in front of my house.
Holes everywhere up and down the street.
Big, deep ones! Covered with giant metal slabs!

This slab didn't entirely cover the hole.
Be careful -- this one goes all the way to China!
Yes, you can visit the Holey Land and have egg rolls at the same time.
Practically the entire town has become part of the Holey Land, thanks to stimulus dollars.
Thank you, Mister President, for the new sewer lines.
And thank you, dear reader, for touring the Holey Land.
Come again another time and tour the Repaired and Repaved Land.

Tail Light Tale

So this is what my tail light looked like after work.

Notice that bits and pieces are missing.

Notice the white paint smudges the perpetrator left behind.

I know it's only a tail light, but geez...

If you are the guilty party, please write me a heft check and wrap it nicely around a large chocolate bar.

Leave the check and the chocolate on my doorstep.

All will be forgiven.

The Magic of Powell's

I am not the least bit ashamed to say, er...write, that Powell's City of Books is a magical place.

For many a published writer, Powell's is just another stop on just another book tour. However, for those of us who attend such events, it is a time to gather and enjoy bookworm esprit de corps. Tuesday evening was was another gathering for another author. My husband and I arrived early, staked out good seats, and began our people-watching vigil. After all, the next best thing to reading books is reading people.

As the chairs filled in, the parade of humanity did not disappoint. What wondrous variety! From my vantage point, these were the highlights:

• Lots and lots of tattoos. I want one. But I'm a chicken. So should I get a chicken tat?
• A cute couple with matching iPads. I want an iPad, too.
• A Hagrid look-alike with a Kindle. Sigh. I want a Kindle, too.
• A crazy cat guy wearing a sweater with kitties all over it. I do NOT want one, be it guy, kitty or sweater.
• A fabulous chunky pearl necklace on the crazy cat guy's date. Oh yeah! Want!

Wait a sec...who am I? Veruca Salt? Enough of the wish-list already. If I want that stuff, I'd better get my own book finished and sold!

Back to the author -- Lev Grossman is his name and The Magicians is his latest book. His presentation was humorous, articulate, and sincere -- all the things you want in an author. I should mention brave, too, because audience Q&A can be dangerous. Someone in the back asked the question I was too chicken (again) to ask about naming charactes. Personally, I was happy to hear him admit he has difficulty with this. Me, too! Honestly, it was easier naming my kids than my characters.

I've wandered enough. It's time to tie this up. So why in the heck is Powell's a magical place? Because for those few minutes, all of us who had gathered together put any and all of our differences aside for our common love of a well-told story. Between 7:30 and 8:30pm, none of us represented any particular demographic or tax bracket. We were all just children again -- listening and imagining and wondering. Magical, right?