When One Doth Use The Snot Out Of Something

I love when the absurd intersects with the ridiculous, and everything suddenly makes sense. 

 { Classic TV: Catch the toast. Kiss the grapefruit. }

~ ~ ~ ~

I.  Years ago Zen-Den and I were walking around a discount mall complex.  It was crowded, we were walking slowly, and we chanced to overhear part of a serious conversation between two people who we didn’t know.

What we heard was: “We used the snot out of those oven mitts.”

We started laughing because neither one of us could imagine a scenario where you’d say this sentence with such earnestness.  Of course Z-D and I, being who we are, immediately adopted this sentence as our favorite inside joke that means absolutely nothing, but it’s darned funny to say.

Don’t judge.

~ ~ ~ ~

II.  I’ve been cooking and baking more this winter than usual. We didn’t decorate the house for the holidays, but instead I decided to be festive and make some foods that we especially like: stews, soups, casseroles, breads, biscuits.

Even though the holidays are over now, I’ve just kept on cooking.

All was going well in my happy little cooking world until our last oven mitt ripped in two.  This left me with one square potholder and a dish towel to use when getting food out of the oven, and off the top of the stove.

I adapt. No big deal, right?

~ ~ ~ ~

III.  It didn’t concern me to not have any oven mitts because I was making do with what I had.  It was only when Zen-Den walked into the kitchen and asked me what I was doing that I began to realize that this conversation was going to go somewhere funny.

I got the giggles but was able to explain the situation to him, and for the first time ever I was able to say in all truthfulness: “We used the snot out of those oven mitts, didn’t we?”

Thereby using our favorite absurd overheard sentence in a non-ironic way to describe the present ridiculous situation– and to finally understand why anyone would say that sentence to begin with.

Life is good.

Links I Love For Clever Beans, Badass Turtles + Other Goofs

… because information is FUN dammit.

 Sometimes you need to remember How To Begin Again.

 Inspiration like the 5 Tips to Trim Down for Trump is why I love the blogosphere.

  Reminding you again How Being Bored Out Of Your Mind Makes You More Creative.

 Taking the What’s Your Closet Personality quiz, learning that I’m a Clothing Economist.

  What say we all try to be a Warrior Not Worrier.

 Knowing How to Enjoy Tea Throughout the Day seems like a good idea.

  Wondering about being a “54” after taking the Do You Live In A Bubble? quiz.

  So The Secret Is Not To Care, huh?

~ ~ ~ ~

New goal: Be as badass as this turtle.

~ ~ ~ ~

In Which Breakfast Disappoints Me & I Am Not Happy

screen-shot-2017-01-26-at-10-22-34-am
“A helpful Tribe Called Quest flow chart” via @MarionDowling

THE FIRST THING you need to know is that I dislike eating the end of anything.  Heel of the loaf of bread? Yuck.  Last of the peanut butter in the jar? No thanks.  Final serving of the mac and cheese in the casserole? Ugh.

[Character failing or intriguing personality quirk? You, my gentle readers, are free to decide which it is.]

So this morning, half-awake, as I prepared my breakfast, I went outside my comfort zone when I decided to voluntarily eat the end of the Orange Marmalade.  I like Orange Marmalade, and in the winter when it’s cold and dreary outside Orange Marmalade cheers my soul, which I believe is an admirable thing for a condiment to do.

[It makes me think of England where I went to college for a term.  In the spring, when it was pretty and green outside.  The opposite weather of this morning.]

# # #

SITTING DOWN TO breakfast at the kitchen counter, with my mug of coffee and my tasty toast smeared with Orange Marmalade, I bit into what I thought would be the perfect midwinter anti-gloom breakfast.

[Oh, but was I disappointed.]

It seems that in our refrigerator we also had a jar of almost used up Apricot Jam, which just happened to be sitting beside the aforementioned Orange Marmalade.  And as fate would have it, glancing casually at the orange color, I picked up the Apricot Jam, plopped the end of it onto my toast, and then took a big bite of the wrong thing.

[BLEECH! A thousand times bleech!]

And that’s how my morning started.  Reminding me that my comfort zones are there for good reasons.  To keep my safe, healthy– and HAPPY.  Which I am not, right now.

On The Cusp Of The Holidays, I Give You Links I Love

It’s Thanksgiving week here in the United States.  

Much hustle and bustle. Much family related stress. Much TV watching for the non-shoppers, much discount shopping for the wackos people who like to do that sort of thing.

I thought a few fun links might be appreciated this week while you, my gentle readers, eye-rolled at familial lunacy OR made like a potato on the couch OR foraged in over-heated junked-up stores.

Whatever you decide to do makes no difference to me, but please…

Be safe. Be happy. Be.

~ • ~

A cheery anthem from an unlikely source that gets us where we’re going.

Details about wishbone karma just in time for Thanksgiving.

An easy way to make people more social. Count me in.

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

Spend some quality time with old friends.

Feeling anxious? Relax with these neuroscience-approved songs.

Here are the 200 happiest words. Use them often this holiday season.

~ • ~

And The Award For The Best Sales Pitch By A Kid At The Front Door Goes To…

LATE AFTERNOON ON A SUNDAY, the doorbell rang.

I answered the door to see a tall skinny kid, who probably eats 4,000 calories a day and is still hungry, standing on my stoop.

He was wearing his scout uniform with shorts, looked to be about 15, and was holding a clipboard horizontally [landscape style] in front of him.

In the metal clip on his clipboard he had put a pen so that the pen protruded toward me, allowing me easy access to the pen.  Clipped to the board itself was an official Boy Scouts of America order form.

He said nothing, but his brown eyes, made large by his glasses with farsighted-lenses, showed me that he was alert.

And clever.

# # #

OVER THE YEARS I’VE LEARNED that neighbor kids selling things will just stand there at the front door if I don’t get the conversation rolling, so I said: “hello.”

To which he said: “POPCORN.”

And that is all he said.

There was no involved introduction. There was no needless chatting. There was no coy sales banter.

There was just a kid, probably an introvert forced to sell something that he has no interest in selling, standing in front of me.

I immediately loved this kid and his direct sales approach, so guess what I did?

I said: “ok.”  And grabbed the pen and clipboard so that I could order popcorn.

Lots of it.

Because, as you my gentle readers will understand, I’m easily charmed by a no-nonsense man with knobby knees in a uniform.

# # #

screen-shot-2016-10-02-at-2-45-25-pm
{ source }

The One About The Friend Who Doesn’t Like Wine

dscn7498Don’t you love a friend who is on a good rant?

Not a close-minded whiner who is spewing hate and prejudice.  No, I’m talking about someone who feels strongly about something.

Someone who has researched the topic and has lots of facts, and opinions, on this particular topic.

Someone with the ability to talk in a nuanced, yet entertaining way, about said offensive topic, which he takes personally while it does not bother you at all.

But, because you are a loyal friend, you let this someone, who we shall call Edward, go on & on about his hatred of… WINE.

Yes, my gentle readers, I have a friend who despises wine.

He’s not against alcohol consumption, nor is he being a snob about quality.  Edward just hates everything about wine and the culture + history around it.

He thinks it’s a scam to believe wine is healthy. “Drink a beer, eat some grapes.”

He thinks it’s a scam to buy expensive huge glasses from which to drink the wine. “Buy the happy couple a toaster.”

He thinks that wine is a way for pretentious insecure people to lord their “knowledge” over the rest of us. “Go take a long walk off a short pier.” 

And he thinks that there is no tasty wine anywhere on earth. “It’s just vinegar with good PR.” 

I’d never try to convince Edward that he is wrong about wine.

Partially because he is a grown-up and it’s his choice to cut the substance out of his life. And partly because when he goes off on this rant I know that there’ll be more wine in this world for me.  😉  

Like I said above, don’t you just love a friend who is on a good rant!

TGIF, everyone.  Have a good weekend.  See you next week.

A Recipe For A Heart-y Dinner, So To Speak

Do you want to be happier about where you are in life?

Then I recommend you read the following recipe which will quickly make you incredibly content to be living in the modern world.

The recipe is from The Something-Different Dish, by Marion Harris Neil, Cookery Editor of Ladies’ Home Journal and author of this cookbook, published in 1915, a mere 101 years ago.

[She also wrote The Story of Crisco around this time. But I digress…]

Please keep in mind that a respectable cookbook published this recipe because [presumably?] people were eating things like this.

That they made at home.

Not that long ago.

So considering this reality, might I suggest that when you start to feel down about your life here in 2016, you need to remember that things could be a lot worse.

You could be eating Love In Disguise for dinner tonight.  😉

# # #

Screen Shot 2016-06-21 at 3.55.20 PM

 # # #