Please keep hands and feet inside the blog. Do not attempt to exit until the post has come to a complete stop. The following are a few thoughts which whirl through my head, there not being much between my ears to slow them down.
I was at a supermarket with the wife today. At the end of one row, there was a plastic box with a sign saying “Seasonal Recipes, Try One.” I took one of the sheets, and, sure enough, there was a great recipe for Barbecued Snow, another for Sweet and Sour Snowballs, and instructions for Baked Icicles, promising that they’ll come out soft and juicy. For anyone needing basic ingredients, we’ll be happy to ship them to you. I have a distribution system stretching from KayJai, in the east, to NotesToPonder in the west.
We had a couple of severe wind storms come through the Region recently. Several trees in LadyRyl’s compound, and others in the neighborhood, lost large branches, or were toppled. City and private crews have been cleaning up. Smaller limbs go through a chipper, and larger stuff is cut and piled. Free mulch and firewood! All you can haul away. One tree, about a block from Ryl’s, left a stump beside the road, almost three feet across, and six feet high. Slowly but surely, someone has been turning it into the bottom of a Totem pole, a most handsome-looking Eagle. I’ll grab a photo, and add to a post later.
In an ongoing contest to prove which one of us is dumber, I asked MapQuest.CA to find me a place near SightNBytes, in Newfoundland, Canada. I was presented with Newfoundland, Tenn., U.S. bloody A! It’s about three miles down the road from a maximum-security Federal prison. “Do not stop! Do not pick up hitchhikers!”
I’ve written about being (almost) smarter than the old, wooden, two-legged clothes pins. I met their Mensa relatives recently. Made from the heavy, recycled plastic that is used to produce some patio/lawn furniture, these things are claimed indestructible, and cheap at 39 cents each. I guess everything old is new again, as more women (and men?) hang laundry on clotheslines.
Did you drink cherry Coke when you were younger?? Does anybody besides me still drink it? My favorite fire-water is actually Pepsi, but, it’s like “Kleenex.” It’s all Kleenex unless someone specifies otherwise.
I was introduced to cherry-cola at about the age of 15, back when restaurants had soda-fountains. You could pay a little extra for a shot of the cherry soda syrup in your “glass” glass of draft (draught, for Canadians, especially KayJai) cola. For at least 20 years, as supermarket choices expanded, I’ve been buying bottles of cherry syrup, and adding it to many of my glasses of Pepsi.
Coke sells Cherry-Coke in cans. I’m not sure that Pepsi does. Pepsi does sell cans with a touch of lime, that son, Shimoniac, likes occasionally. Partly to control my weight, I often don’t want 12 ounces, and custom-mix a small glass, from a 2-liter bottle.
A little over a year ago, BrainRants mentioned Sriracha sauce on his blog. I’d never seen or heard of it. Less than a month later it showed up at my supermarket. At first, it was expensive, and rare, $6.99 a bottle – liters – to satisfy Canadian packing requirements. Soon, most stores carried it, and the price went down.
Suddenly, it was as common as water, and less expensive. My store had a giant, end-of-aisle display, hundreds (perhaps thousands) of bottles in an 8-foot-high pile, clearing at 99 ¢/ea. I first saw a small store in Charleston, SC, which sold nothing but a wide range of hot sauces. We recently got the first in our area, at the Farmers’ Market. The wife treated me to an order of poutine today. (All questions about What The Hell Is Poutine??! faithfully answered) I drizzled some Sriracha on it.
I went to put in the ¢ sign above, and realized that electronic keyboards no longer have them. They have the dollar sign, but not the cents. This happened long before Canada decided to eliminate the penny. The wife threatened offered to teach me how to add it to my text, but I feared it would be cheaper and easier just to hire a performance artist to go to each of your houses and put it in. Silly me, it’s not hard at all. Two different ways, press alt 0162, or control, slash, c. Now I gotta write more about cents.
In my continuing acquisition of interesting names, I met a knife-maker at the Detroit show named Bobby L. Toole, not O’Toole, merely Toole. I haven’t researched just how rare the name is, but I’ve never heard or read of another. While the name may be white-bread, Irish, the holder definitely isn’t. Being politically correct, I will not mention the joke about him being a Masai-man, so black you could melt him down to make hockey pucks from.
Another maker with a name almost as handsome as his knives, was Doun T. Rose II, whose father had as much ego and as little imagination as Efrem Zimbalist Senior. I gotta kick my standard transmissioned research up into second gear, to find out about him and Bobby. He claimed that Doun is a Scottish name, and it’s always interesting to see what my skirt-wearing ancestors were up to. You know why Scotsmen wear kilts??! So the sheep don’t hear the zipper.
I put this post together Saturday, August 24th. I don’t mind (much) that they’re playing football. I’m not surprised to get back
from Canadian Tire, where Halloween costumes are available for sale, but Saturday’s paper had the first picture of someone playing hockey. Summer, oh Summer, where hast thou gone? Probably hiding behind my snow shovel, bah, humbug!