I suppose I got it from my father. I’m not talking about my wonderful good looks, nor my nose, but my love of knick-knacks. You know knick-knacks? If you type “knick-knack” into Google you get: “a small worthless object, especially a household ornament,” with wonderful synonyms like: “trinket, novelty, gewgaw, bibelot, ornament, trifle, bauble, gimcrack, curio, tchotchke, memento, souvenir, kickshaw.” My wife simply calls them dust collectors, so I guess, I’m a dust collector, although looking at the synonyms I’m thinking of shifting to calling them bibelot if only because then it sounds fancy.
I found myself in a bell tower. I won’t go into when I found myself in a bell tower because then the story would probably be worse, but there I was. I was led to the door to the bell tower, but we thought the door was locked. The 15-year old in this 47-year old body really wanted to go into the bell tower, but alas, it appeared a little lock was there between normal-ness and adventure. Oh well. Then an opportunity came for me to be by that door again, and low and behold the lock wasn’t really locked, I opened the door and found myself, alone, climbing the stairs. But I was torn. In my head I knew I shouldn’t really be there, the initial stairs were kind of rickety, but I continued to climb. I made it to the first level, looked up the next set of stairs, and somehow continued going up.
Then thoughts entered my head.
As a Catholic and a Polish dude I was preparing for Lent. Paczki were ordered, and I began pondering the Lenten season. For years we are always told we should give something up until Easter, although the rules were always a little shady as sometimes we were told we were able to have on Sundays what we gave up, other times there was the spirit of “fasting” for the entire season. One year I did great, giving up adding sweetener, both artificial and natural, into things, specifically my iced tea and coffee. Somehow I made it through the season although I did pick up the diet soda after Easter. This season, though, I had a plan. I was going to add some things which I know kind of goes against the theory of Lent, but I felt trying to consistently do my yoga, meditation, and exercising for the season would make me a better person, but on the giving up something I went back to the old standard, giving up soda.
I have an Aerospace Engineering degree from Illinois Institute of Technology, I have made some iPhone apps, I can, or at least used to be able to play the violin, and I can cook an awesome steak, but why is it when it comes to the staple of college students everywhere, something I never actually made when I was in college, I find that I somehow suck at making Maruchan’s Ramen Noodle Soup. The discovery came a little while back when, at the request of my wife when she wasn’t feeling well, she requested I make her a bowl of soup. My immediate thought was some Lipton Cup-o-Soup, but for her she wanted Ramen Noodles.
It happened the other day. There was some candy on the counter, a bag of candy as it would be, and I was pretty sure my wife wasn’t keeping count of the number of pieces in the bag. She wasn’t home yet, but Milo was there. He did his normal greeting of lying in his bed, looking towards the door as I opened it, had a gaze of “Do I know you?”, and as I came a little closer he lifted his head a little higher, let his nose do some sniffing, and, when finally realizing it was me, he spun around a little bit then headed down to his litter box to do his business.
This past weekend I came to fully realize that I married into a family of table cleaners. Now I’m not just talking a family of table straighten-uppers, but if you gave them a cleaning rag as part of the meal you could probably just set the table right after they left and it would be cleaner than the job you would do as a waiter/waitress/buss boy/buss girl.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not Mr. Slob when it comes to going out to eat or being at a relatives for a holiday dinner. When I’m done with my meal I will take my plate, and offer to take a plate or two when I’m at a family gathering, and if I’m at a restaurant I will try to neaten up my area, leaving things in a manner kind of nice for the wait staff to be able to clean, but, especially at a restaurant, I’m not trying to make the table ready for the next customer. My in-law family, however, is a server’s dream because as the meal is done there they are stacking plates, collecting silverware, tidying up the area, and never was it more prevalent than at the funeral luncheon I was at over the weekend.
The man is on the TV spouting how we should get our billions back, the people are on the side of the road in their Statue of Liberty costumes asking you to come on in, and companies are supposed to have sent you your tax forms by now. Yup, it’s tax season. It’s the time of year when some people will go “Shit, I owe how much?”, others will be cheering because they are getting a giant refund and can go buy that new TV, and others will be proud of the fact that they owe, or will get refunded, next to nothing which means they didn’t give the government a loan with their money. There will be stories, especially come March, how taxes are a clustur-f&^* of complicated rules that only a tax accountant might be able to understand, as more candidates hit the trail many will give the familiar rhetoric about tax reform, easier tax filing, how the rich should pay more, yet for the most part the tax rules will just become more complicated, and the rich will still figure out loopholes left by the same politicians who said they will get rid of them, and in the end, April 15th will show up, a deadline everyone knows is there, and some people, probably the same people who crammed for a final exam the night before, will scramble to get their taxes filed on time.
I’ve filed my taxes crazy early, I’ve been on that cusp of April 15th, but with it being early February I wonder: Have you filed your taxes yet?
That’s it for this one! L8R!!
I’m guilty. I admit it. I post pictures of things covered with a lot of snow. It seems, however, that I’m not alone. Yes, one thing that has always been a given, probably since the dawn of the cave drawing, is that when it snows we feel the need to convey the amount of snow by taking pictures of outdoor things with snow on them. The cave drawings may have had pictures of maybe a wheel, or a round rock, with snow on it, there is probably some painting with a castle with a foot of snow on the top of it, and I know even when I was a youngin’, with one of those cameras that used that film stuff, when it snowed I would be out the door taking pictures. Now of course, with the camera phone, the pictures are everywhere. Pictures of the outdoor grill (like mine) with snow on it, pictures of patio furniture with snow on it, pictures of cars with snow on them, and pictures of people playing in the snow. For whatever reason, whatever the need, we have to show the world, even our neighbors right next door who can see our patio, how much snow we have.
There was a viral video of a news anchor who was sick of the patio furniture covered with snow, but I have a feeling the dude is fighting a losing battle because it has happened, happens today, and whatever technology happens in the future, when it snows I’m sure we will tell everyone.
I’m guessing this is a 100%er in the world of polls for those who live where it snows, but let’s do it: Have you taken a picture of patio furniture covered with snow?
That’s it for this one! L8R!!
Eric Zorn of the Chicago Tribune had a story about gluttony, or at least the preponderance of gluttony as explained by The National Chicken Council in Washington. The National Chicken Council came out with some crazy number of chicken wings that would be eaten during the Super Bowl. Eric’s story explains how his father did the math and pretty much the average consumption of chicken wings during the game would be 11+ wings should the Council’s numbers be accurate, and that upon further review, or a phone call to the chicken people, Eric found out that they meant the number of chicken wings during the entire Super Bowl weekend would be over 1.25 billion, Sure, that’s still a lot of chicken wings, but nowhere near the boisterous chicken slaughter needed for Americans to get their chicken wing fix during the Super Bowl.
Missing in the story, though, is the fact that we have a National Chicken Council. I guess it’s not really missing, I mean there are trade groups for just about everything and their dual purpose is usually to promote their goods to the public as well as make sure Congress has their group’s best interest at heart, in other words, doesn’t screw them over with bad legislation.
Me, although I helped the National Chicken Council work to achieve their boisterous claims of chicken wing consumption, it seems I came a bit short of the average needed because, from the preparation photo of our chicken wings, we’ll fall a bit short of the average between me and my wife. I do wonder however: Did you eat more than ten chicken wings during the Super Bowl?
That’s it for this one! L8R!!
It’s Girl Scout Cookie time. Yup, the postings are happening on Facebook (“Ashley is selling Girl Scout Cookies! Let me know how many boxes you want!”), the girls are walking the neighborhoods with their parents selling them door-to-door (at least I assume they still do that, though no one has shown up at my door, yet), we’ll probably hear of some enterprising young girl outside of the fitness center, and in corporate offices nationwide the rush is on to be the first to announce, “My daughter is selling Girl Scout Cookies! Place your orders now!” The problem is what happens when multiple people work in an office, and said multiple people have daughters selling the Thin Mints and Do-Si-Dos? Do you wait for the co-worker who is your “friend” to sell them, or just fill out the giant form from the first person who leaves it in the break room? If you’re waiting for your friend, what happens if you don’t fill out the form for the first person only to find out your friend isn’t selling them? Maybe you just put in an order with every parent selling the cookies, finding that when delivery day comes you are stuck with enough Tagalongs to last until 2018? I image the office complexities of selling Girl Scout Cookies can be a challenge. It’s probably important to be that first Dad putting out the form so you don’t have to lie to your daughter that your entire office is on a diet right now and won’t be buying her cookies, only to have her find out on Bring Your Daughter to Work Day that Shelly’s dad sold 10,000 boxes because he was there first.
Usually I end up buying my Girl Scout Cookies from the girls in front of the grocery store. First, it’s kind of an impulse buy, which is nice, because I can get some instant gratification, and it was also fun the one time I bought them for my Mom, who likes to freeze them, and I asked for a dozen boxes and the girl’s eyes lit up. I have to say I rarely buy them from people I know, mostly because I don’t have time to wait for them, but at the end of today I wonder: Who do you buy Girl Scout Cookies from?
That’s it for this one! L8R!!