Curry in a Real Hurry

Have you ever had one of those times when you walk into the restroom at work or some other public place and it is completely empty.... except for a big, brown cloud of toxic gas that fills the air? The REALLY bad kind. Like the all caps, bolded, italicized, nose-frying, eye-singeing kind of bad.

Unfortunately you lingered too long before answering nature's call to switch ladies rooms because word has already reached your bladder that recess time is imminent! Like immediately imminent!


You are left with no choice but to hold your breath, whip down your pants and relay the need for efficiency to your pottying parts. Predictably, your ureter immediately clamps down to the width of a mosquito knee so that you pee at about 440 psi, therefore eliminating all hope of cutting the process short even as you start to see stars from lack of oxygen.


Not wanting to pass out and be found face down on the filthy floor, bad side up, sans pants, you resume breathing just before your eyes start to roll back in your head and now you are inhaling the nauseating smell which is making your lunch bubble up a bit in the back of your throat. Thinking that you will never again be able to eat Indian food, you continue your business and try to focus on not throwing up by contemplating what the Bathroom Bomber could have possibly eaten to cause such an epic stench.

You are red-faced, sweating and looking quite miserable with runny mascara and pants that probably aren't properly fastened when you finally blast out the bathroom door.... only to run into someone that you don't know quite well enough to point into the room and gasp "OMG, that was SO not me!"


And so you imagine that the person proceeds into the restroom, is assaulted by the odor, recalls your disheveled appearance and the chicken vindaloo she saw you nuking earlier in the break room and thinks 'I will never, EVER eat Indian Food again!'

I know I've been neglecting the Nest all week but, as usual, I have an excuse - I am a professional slacker, after all.

Funny has been in short supply with me because I am trying to vicariously battle a flood that is 1000 miles away. Since most of my family, as well as the all-time best BFF, live within spitting distance of the Red River of the North. In case you haven't been paying attention, it is currently at an all time EVER high of 22 feet above flood stage.

Thousands of hardy Mid-northerners have banded together to try to save Fargo-Moorhead from becoming the modern day Atlantis. They have closed 3 universities and pulled high schoolers out of class (like they would be hard to convince). People have come from far and wide to help. They build dikes and add sandbags and don't even have time to feel a bit safe before the National Weather Service raises the river level predictions. Yet again.

And have I mentioned that the temps are well below freezing?

They have evacuated some nursing homes, a hospital and whole neighborhoods. The mall is even closed today to keep people off the roads. Is it not a sign of dire circumstances when the shoe stores close?

Unless you live there or have a very good memory, you probably don't remember how devastated that same area was by flooding in 1997. The aforementioned BFF lost her house. Can you even imagine her anxiety at this point?

I feel very helpless. All I've been able to do is call my mother and repeatedly suggest that she take everything valuable or irreplacable out of the lower level of their home. She says she's not worried but her memory lapses suggest otherwise. Hopefully my dad will catch her before she moves everything back down the stairs because she can't remember why she brought them up in the first place. Luckily my younger-older brother is close by, not only to help my parents but to reassure his anxiety-clad sister.

They expect the river to crest tomorrow and stay there for 3 to 7 days. Hopefully, the dikes will hold and be high enough, and the sewers won't back up and the electricity running the sump pumps won't go out, and that (please, please NO!) it doesn't rain or snow any more. That's an awful lot to hope for, so if you all have any pull with the Big Person upstairs, or you have any spare karma to send, some positive energy with which to influence the universe or, for Marial, some virtual valium, I would really appreciate if you could direct it towards the 'Otas. They need all the help they can get.

Thank you and have a great weekend.

Peace, Love, Sandbags

Before long Chuck will want some

When Sister1 is bored and Sister2's hair extensions

are left unattended.....

why is it the animals always have to suffer?

Not all blondes have more fun.

Friday Fragments

Yay, it's Friday! That sounded so good I think I'll say it again. YAY, IT'S FRIDAY!!!

It's been a beautiful week but I'm ready for it to be over - the work part of it, anyway. Or I should say the paid-for, with-benefits part of the week because I'm sure my weekend won't be all dvr and bon-bons. Nope, it will be extreme carpentrying.

Homer has been constantly jabbing at me with baseboard game plans. ALL. FRIGGIN. WEEK. You see, the Mancave was originally put together by someone with less regard for right angles even than me. This creates some unique challenges when it comes to applying new baseboard and wood trim around the doorways. Did I tell you that I spent last weekend totally ripping out the ceiling in the hallway because it was so completely out of whack that it was making Homer's head spin?

Yeah, one step forward, two steps back. Part of why I've been reluctant to share pictures. I'm afraid you all will hunt me down and have me committed. Not that I wouldn't go willingly.

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Sad news about Natasha Richardson, huh? Homer and Alpha went skiing/snowboarding yesterday. Alpha started skiing when she was 3 or 4 but switched to snowboarding a few years back, so she was excited to announce last night that she has finally made it back up to the black diamond (difficult) runs at Snowbird. I asked if she was wearing a helmet. No, she wasn't. I looked at her dad's hair and asked if he had worn his helmet (already knowing that he hadn't). Nope. I think I will print off a picture of Natasha and tape it to their season passes. Didn't we already learn this lesson with the Kennedy guy who died of head-to-tree disease?

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For Soxy Deb and anyone else who cares: My bike commute home from work is about 13 miles. Last summer I did it most days of the week and rode TO work as well. Mostly , anyway. I rode 12 miles and then took the train up a very steep hill to my actual place of employment. Hey, I didn't want to show up smelling completely like a linebacker on a hundred degree, double practice day. I'm also pretty sure I would have to literally drag my bike up that hill. And no, I DON'T go home that way.

Before you think too highly of me, I will tell you that I have an extreme case of the lazies when it comes to exercise. The best way I could think of to force myself into it was to 'give my car away' to a resident teenager. I do drive for trips that are far or dangerous or require more cargo area than my two-wheeler allows. I also walk quite a bit since I am lucky enough to live within walking distance of my bank, the post office, library, three grocery stores, the H'Depot, Target and even the liquor store. You have no idea what a rare thing THAT is here in You-tah.

So, see, I TELL myself that I am being green/saving money/exercising the dog when really I'm just forcing myself to live a little longer. It's all about spin.

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Did you watch the President on Jay Leno last night? I know you are probably tired of hearing it, but I just LOVE that guy. I laughed a lot - especially at the comments about the dog. What did Jay call it? A Portuguese Waterhead?

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And lastly, a Friday funny. True story but I won't use real names. Okay, I will.

My friend Marial is having a bathroom installed in her basement. Her contractor is the boyfriend of a friend. One day she went downstairs to survey the jobsite and discovered there, on top of a dirt pile, was a pair of her underwear. USED underwear! She had forgotten that she wasn't supposed to use her laundry chute and being a creature of habit as well as quite a neatnik, she had tossed her drawers down without a second thought.

Luckily, this was a day when Bathroom Guy hadn't been able to work on her project. Whew! She grabbed the pink panties and vowed to be more careful.

For some reason she told Bathroom Guy about how near he came to experiencing a sullied skivvy shower, to which he replied that it would have been no big deal since it had already happened once and he had tossed the 'precipitation' over in a laundry basket.

I think that was the point where Marial made a mental note to cancel all mixed-company social engagements for the next year.

And to go commando until the project is completed.

Okay, I made up that last part because Marial is really not the military type but if I were her, I would learn to be.

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Peace, Love, Laundry!

Have a great weekend.

Safe and as sound as can be expected

Yes, I made it home safely - twice now, although my butt bones might tell a different story. The best reason to never quit bike riding is so you don't have to go through the process of toughening up the parts of you that meet up with the bike seat - ever again.

I have the techy seat and the chamois underwear but still I get bruises. And then there is no choice but to get right back on those bruises time after time until they go away. I'm not sure where they go but I wish they would leave already.

And no, it doesn't seem to matter how much padding you have on your.... um, personal seat.

It was SO good to get out and ride. It had been too long. I'm not much of a stationary biker. The problem with a bike that goes nowhere is that I can get off of it at any time. Usually a very short time. Because I get bored like that. And I'm undisciplined. With a real bike, not only does the scenery change but I have no choice but pedal myself a whole hour if I want to get home. Of course there IS a Great Harvest Bread store at about the halfway point. I just might have to stop for some carb loading one of these days.

I was pretty pleased with myself because my time was almost the same as when I stopped bicycle commuting last, hmmm, October? I'm going to keep better track of my miles and days this year. I think last year I was afraid I wouldn't last a week so I didn't want any kind of written record laying around as proof of my failure. Or I just didn't need any more paperwork in my life. Either excuse is believable.

I tell you, the sleeping is pretty wonderful after all that fresh air and exercise, too. And just so you all don't lose any sleep, I'll tell you that my ride is really not all that dangerous. I don't go anywhere near downtown and most of the streets I travel have wide bike lanes. The most dangerous threat is probably getting run over by one of those skinny-tired lycra guys who are headed UP the canyon faster than I could probably go DOWN the canyon. Well, I could get the shoes and the spankies and the racing bike and all that noise but think of how much less exercise I'd get. It has NOTHING to do with how cheap I am.

Well anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Spring me!

Cross your fingers, light a candle, conjure me some good Karma - whatever you subscribe to, I could probably use it. In hopes of un-funking my mood - whoops, go back and read that right this time - I brought my bike to work with me today so I could ride home. The sunny skies and temps in the 60's were just too tempting.

It's not been going so well, though. I already made a nuisance of myself this morning trying to figure out how to operate the bike rack on the front of the bus. I'm pretty sure that the writing of the rack instructions was outsourced to Punjabian monkeys because they left me totally baffled. The bus driver had to unbuckle his own chubby self from the driver's seat and come out of the bus to show me how it works. All his wild gestures through the window did nothing but distract me from my work and confuse me further. Okay, I couldn't take the pressure. My brain seized up at the thought of the 5 people already on the bus cussing me out for slowing down their commute.

Those bus drivers want you to believe that they are all crabby because they don't really like bike commuters in the first place - especially dumb ones, but from what I observed I think they just don't like to leave their seats because it takes them about 5 miles to get all their 'parts' readjusted back into the proper place on the driver's seat. It appears bus drivers are somewhat like automobile nose pickers in their belief that no one sees what they are doing.

I won't talk about what happened when I took my bike OFF the rack. My ego won't allow it but as I walked my steed the 20 yards from bus to office building, I must have rolled over something sharp because I recently noticed that one of my tires is flat and now I remember that what I DIDN'T see in my little bike ditty bag was a repair kit, which means I will have to present myself to one of the bike-heads in the building as not only a nitwit, but an unprepared nitwit. They will probably ask to see my helmet and my insurance card before they help me out.

All this comes on the heels of assessing my scars from last summer's ass-over-handlebars manuever and deciding that the marks really haven't faded much over the winter. Last night I briefly worried about the possibility of another asphalt encounter, but isn't life too short to worry about what MIGHT happen? I'm also thinking that my legs are so WHITE that drivers couldn't possibly miss the sight of me.... unless the brightness blinds them! Or what if some crazy Hummer gets a look at me and thinks 'Mmmm, look at all that tasty white meat for the taking at the road-kill grill!'

There's also the possibility that I could go into cardiac arrest around mile 13.

I'll let you know if I make it home.
Maybe I should just take the bus....

I thought inebreation was the happiest state

In case any of you missed the memo - I officially live in the happiest state. No, it's not the ignorance-is-bliss state, or the state of complete disarray even though I am a resident of those two states.

Turns out the happiest state in the U.S. of A. is You-tah!

I know, get out! They say it's because of its vast outdoor recreational opportunities as well as the healthy habits of its residents. I think I heard somewhere that we also consume antidepressants at the rate of hand over fist, but I think that's expected of a state where over half the residents don't drink alcohol.

Speaking of alcohol, if you can believe it, our state legislature has decided to do away with the law that requires a club membership to order a mixed drink or a 'real' beer in You-tah without buying a meal. I'm sure it has more to do with raising the revenue from sin taxes than making us seem less like a dry state. After all, you still can't buy malt coolers here and the state still owns all the liquor stores, but remember, we were NOT named the most reasonable state.

Anyway, if any of you Kentuckians (49th happiest) or West Virginians (Dead last) want to come out for a good time, just let me know. I will fire up the blender and take you on some awesome hikes.... but probably not in that order.

But, um, could you smuggle me some Mike's?

Today's Cartalk

Jane!: I look hideous in gray. I don't ever want my hair to be gray. Promise me that even when I'm old and dementiated and in a home, you will still color my hair once a month.

Alpha: That seems kind of pointless, not to mention expensive.

Jane!(aghast): Uh!

Alpha: I'm just sayin', if I'm already paying for the dementia home....

I suppose this means I can forget about the margaritas and Chippendale dancers that were also on my list.

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Attention blog geniuses: Can someone explain to me the 'Links to this Post' business? Some days everywhere I go, I see my post listed in the 'Links to this Post' section under the comments. I swear I have NOT hit the 'Create a Link' button. Other days, I see nothing. Sometimes I see 3 or 4 or 5 different posts from the same blog (not mine) listed.

Help me! I'm so confused!

And that's all I got.

And on the 12th day she drank.

Happy Monday, campers! You will be happy to know that I survived the weekend with nothing worse than a tough case of baseboarder’s butt. Who knew that the muscles used to install wood trim, had previously been unused since my extreme skiing days. Oh wait, I totally made up the extreme skiing. That explains a lot.

Gail will be pleased to know that Homer also came through unscathed. To say the least. That man is a woodworking machine. He can sand, stain, finish, sand, finish, sand…. forever! Sun up to sun down and beyond if he turns on the lights. Jane! isn’t quite so dedicated. Although I did get the baseboard installed on the biggest wall in the Mancave and I textured the last of three walls, I can’t say that I am in danger of being recruited for Extreme Makeover Home Edition. Frankly, I don’t know what the hurry is.

I also had a bit of an attention problem on Saturday. That’s common when I’m afraid to get started on something– to make the first cut in this case. I put a lot of pressure on myself not to screw up. After about the third time Homer caught me off task, he commented that when we started this project, he didn’t realize that ‘working on it together’ meant that he would work and I would watch him work. Pfftht. He better not get me started in that battle because he will go down faster than our 401k.

Sunday I did better. Probably because Homer went skiing so I didn’t have anyone to watch. Of course our little overachiever still had to sneak in a topcoat before church and like FOUR hours of sanding after skiing. Show off. Well, some of us did 8 loads of laundry, cleaned the house, walked and washed the dog and shampooed the stairs carpet!! Not to mention the 57 clocks I had to spring forward! It’s not all about remodeling, buster! Home improvement comes in other forms, you know!

Speaking of springing forward, last year the Daylight Savings time transition hit me so hard and lasted so long that I vowed to better prepare myself this year. I mentally moved my clock forward on Friday night. I KNOW, genius, huh? I got up a bit earlier than usual on Saturday with the intention of going to bed earlier on Saturday, thus easing the pain of Monday morning. Only I stayed up 2 hours later than usual on Saturday night. And I slept 2 hours later on Sunday. Oops. I’m still not sure how that happened. I can’t even blame the usual suspect, Mr. Internet, because I hardly even cracked the laptop the whole weekend. Anyway, it was more of a ‘dragged forward’ or maybe ‘shoved forward’. Definitely no springing here. (PS if you have something to say about DST - go here and find out how you can win a cute, sassy clock.)

Oh, the Mancave pictures I promised? Yeah, well, they’re somewhere. In the camera, probably. Which I guess is on Junie’s desk or maybe Kat’s. Crap, I don’t know.

Oh, here’s something to distract you from my unfulfilled promises – another unfulfilled promise. I fell off the Lenten wagon. Willfully and purposely, I drank a big ole Gulp (as in the 492 oz. kind) of Diet Dew on Sunday. That’s probably why I got so much done. Hey, a woman can only remain unproductive for so long.

Organization 101

I saw an article on MSN the other day the piqued my interest. It was titled

Reclaim More Than 30 Minutes of Your Day by Doing Less!
I thought cool, I could use another 120 minutes each day at a minimum but 30 is a start. I decided to read on.

Organizational expert Julie Morgenstern’s top tips for streamlining your routine to give you more “me time” and less stress. Me time! Yay! Wait, what's 'me time'? And wasn't Julie Morgenstern, Rhoda's sister on the Mary Tyler Moore show? Frankly, besides being extremely depressed, she didn't seem all that organized.

Pick out your clothes the night before.You would think that choosing your outfit would take the same amount of time in the morning as it does at night. Not so, says Julie Morgenstern, author of When Organizing Isn't Enough: Shed Your Stuff, Change Your Life. "You actually take less time deciding the night before because you're not as stressed. I think when we're stressed, we freeze, we get paralyzed, we can't think, we start making mistakes and keep repeating them." Boy howdy, am I the poster child for that statement as evidenced by the dozen pieces of discarded clothing piled on the bed every morning. She recommends going as far as hanging the planned outfit -- down to underwear and jewelry -- outside your closet. Thanks, Julie, but I already do this - yes, down to the lingerie and earrings. Trouble is, what I pick out the night before is not always what I feel like wearing the next day. My clothing has a huge impact on my day and if my outfit chi is not flowing, my day will be shit. I'm not a clothes horse by any means. I just need what I'm wearing to feel good and look good and be the right color for the right day. Don't ask. I have rules.


Find your go-to outfits.You probably have a go-to LBD (little black dress, I assume) in your closet that always makes you look and feel fabulous. Um, sorry, no little black dress in my closet, but I have some pretty awesome little black pants. Morgenstern suggests you find a few more fail-safe fashion choices that work for daytime, too. "Invest a couple of hours one weekend or one evening coming up with four or five standard outfits that you know always work," she says. "You do that for work outfits, and you should do that for going-out outfits as well." Going-out outfits for...? Wait. If I devote two hours of my weekend to this, my net gain for the week will only be 30 minutes. I knew it was too good to be true.


Curb your addiction to e-mail. One of Morgenstern's mantras: Break the mindless e-mail habit. So basically, stop checking e-mail every 10 seconds! "Every time you're bored, every time you're facing something difficult, you're like 'Let me just check my e-mail first.' You're using e-mail and even the Internet as a kind of procrastination device. If you can eliminate that habit from your day, I guarantee you will regain a minimum of an hour of productivity a day. Minimum." To kick the habit, she suggests setting regular e-mail check times, as well as not checking your e-mail for the first hour you're at work, when possible. This is not one of my problems but if it truly is a kind of procrastination device, sign me up because I would LOVE to regain an hour of productivity a day.


Organize your home by the way you think. Organizing your mess of a closet can save you at least a half hour per day, but that doesn't mean you have to color-code your clothing like your type-A friend does. Excuse me Ms. Julie but not all people with color-coded closets are Type-A. "You should organize your clothes in the way you reach for them, the way you think," says Morgenstern. "Not everybody thinks the same way, and I believe the zones of your closet should reflect your unique association. When some people go to get dressed, they think in terms of garments; others think of their clothes more by occasion: work clothes, weekend clothes, dress-up clothes." And some of us like to mix it all up - work/weekend/dress up. My little brain is spinning out of control just thinking about how to classify my clothes by THAT system. For more tips on organizing your closet, visit juliemorgenstern.com.


Buy nice hangers. Seriously? THIS is going to get me more minutes in the day? Your closet is a reflection of you, says Morgenstern. "It's where you start and end your day, and you want to feel good when you reach for something and when you put it away." In her own closet, she uses slender wooden hangers. "I think they bring an elegance to your closet that makes it exciting to open your closet and motivate you to hang things up again." I have a big problem with this one because my favorite hangers are not for sale as far as I know. I do have several of the nice padded satin ones that I use for sweaters and jackets but they take up too much space to use for everything. The hangers I really like are Old Navy hangers. They are white plastic with a metal swivel hook, strap grooves and the ends are skid resistant and curve nicely downward so you don't get shoulder nipples in your knit tops. When they ask me if I want the hangers I'm all 'Hell yeah' and then I do my Joan Crawford wire hanger tirade. Sometimes they even throw in a few extras.


Create a last-minute checklist. There are few things more satisfying than ticking off items on your to-do list. Get that feeling every time you leave the house by creating a cool-looking checklist to keep right by the door. On it, put all the things you need for the day: wallet, gym clothes, phone charger, iPod, etc. It will save you time trying to remember everything and running back every time you forget something, says Morgenstern. Plus, once you've mentally crossed each thing off, "you'll leave feeling like a million bucks and full of energy." How about I just make a pile of all the things I need to take so I don't have to run around checking off my list in the morning? Better yet, I think I'll throw all my stuff in my backpack and just make a note to grab my lunch out of the fridge. Oh wait. I already do that. I wonder why I don't feel like more than 20 bucks when I head out the door.


Go to the digital supermarket. If you can, order your groceries online so you don't have to go food shopping, says Morgenstern. "It will cut time from your weekly errands and chores, and the program will save your shopping list -- a big, really helpful time-saver for the household stuff." My supermarket doesn't offer this and I am pretty darn loyal to my supermarket because it is locally owned and has very nice meat and produce. Anyway, with online shopping can you ask them to dig way to the back for the bread with the freshest date or to stream a live feed from the meat counter so I can see if the pork chops look lean enough? Besides, food shopping time is almost like 'me time'. Now if someone offers online toilet bowl cleaning - THAT I want to know about.


Make your coffee to go.Pay attention, Starbucks addicts. "We waste a lot of time going and getting coffee somewhere," says Morgenstern. "If you invest in a coffeemaker with a timer, you can set it the night before and wake up to the smell of coffee." Stock up on a few cute refillable travel mugs and you'll save time by avoiding that coffee-shop line . Or, if you always forget your mug at the office, consider buying to-go cups and lids to keep at home. Blah, blah. I don't drink coffee unless it's iced with milky, flavored goodness. Is there somewhere I could get a tequila maker with a timer?

Leave work 30 minutes early.This tip is going to sound counterintuitive for those of us trying to get more done each day, but Morgenstern swears by it. "Shorten your workday by 30 minutes and you will achieve as much as, if not more than, you currently do." By leaving early, you'll have that feeling of being on a deadline, when you don't have time to spare on perfectionism, procrastination and interruptions. And I'm sure not one of my co-workers would be bitter if I started walking out the door half an hour early. At my spreadsheet sweatshop, I think they can fire you for that. Why don't I just quit my job and then I'd have an extra EIGHT HOURS every day? And think of all the time I'd save not grocery shopping and not cooking and not sleeping when my whole family is hungry and homeless. I think maybe Julie has a major (employed) sugar daddy who is keeping her out of touch with reality.


Set aside time for social networking.Assign yourself time to check your Facebook, MySpace, Linked In and other social networking sites. They are tremendous procrastination devices, as well as easy entertainment. "But they're like TV," says Morgenstern. "You turn it on and three hours pass, and then you're like 'Where did my day go?'" By carving out set times to spend on them, you'll be more productive when you're focusing on other tasks. Okay, I've already cut back to the point that most of my fellow bloggers probably resent my lack of visits and snarky comments. And TV.... well, what's TV again? Oh yeah, the box with the colorful pictures and the sound that I can't understand.
And now I'm like 'Where did my day go?' because I've just spent too much time trying to learn how to save some time.

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Have an wonderful weekend. I'll be spending mine working on the mancave project. I might even have some pictures by Monday.

Peace, Love, Home Improvement

Mother Nature must have needed a good laugh

Yesterday I was flapping my yap about how we didn't have one lick of snow left. I truly did not intend to sound braggish even though I was telling it to my friend who lives in the 'Otas and still cannot see to back out of her driveway because that's how high the snow is piled! Still. I also might have mentioned the fact that it was 68 degrees on Tuesday. Hey, I was just reporting the weather. Besides, she started it with her 'it's a nice day because it's above zero' comment.

Apparently the weather powers-that-be saw it differently because when I got up this morning there was 3 inches of new snow on the ground. Hahaha. Aren't you funny, Momma Cosmos!

But it is the most pretty type of snow. The stuff that sticks by half an inch, to each tiny branchlet on the bare trees and frosts the topside of all the evergreens like even the most anal-retentive tree flocker never could. Combine that with the sunshine, blue sky, white mountains and perfectly clear, see-for-miles air and it made a beautiful drive to work today. Really! Gorgeous!

Alas, I am not packing the Canon today so you'll have to use your imaginative powers about the trees, but this old photo covers the rest of it.The snow day also gave me another opportunity to wear my cute, suede boots. And a good shoe day is a just a good day period.

So haha back at you, March Lion!!

Ooh, I will probably pay for that remark with another foot of snow.

It was just a false alarm

On the ride in this morning:

Alpha: Ooh! Look at the sticker on that van - 'Hockey Mom'! I wonder if it might be Sarah Palin driving (she says in her best Wasilla accent).

Jane!: Umm.... No. Can't be. No gun rack.

Giggles and high fives all around.

Won't you dance with me?

It's time once again for another school dance here in Janeville, which means yet another crafty date invitation.

This t-shirt appeared on our front porch Sunday night after a momentarily mysterious case of doorbell ditch.

The back:

And the front:

There are many random names written all over the front of the t-shirt but after it was washed....

... only ONE first and last name remained - that of 'the date'.

Okay, maybe Freddie Jibjab isn't really his name, but is that not the cutest idea?

Best Award Ever

I receieved this in the mail sometime around mid-February, which in Jane!-time is actually like 5 minutes ago.

It is just another example of the fine stuff made famous by Lorrie Veasey and the Our Name is Mud pottery company.

I am going to resist the temptation to question Lorrie's taste in blogs because I think that is called biting the hand that scratches your belly.

So I will simply say thank you!

And go check out Lorrie and her stuff!

This is another of my cherished Mud products:

Badd spelars beewair! Eym wotchin ewe!