Used with permission; original version at Wikimedia Commons
I think the worst start to a day would be rushing about grabbing clothes in a huge hurry and accidentally grabbing the pair of undies that should have been tossed out when the dog chewed through the crotch but not having enough time to find better ones in the clean laundry pile that looms in the corner of the bedroom and having to wear those largely crotchless undies anyway
Hypothetically speaking I mean
There's just no way to explain this that won't make you think I'm nuts. If you reeeeally wanna know, check out Roderick On the Line, a weekly podcast from Merlin Mann and John Roderick.
Ironieteken was used by permission at least I think so by its designer
Oh this No Punctuation Wednesday has been coming a long long long time even though it IS technically a Monday but who would argue with a woman on a rant
Not you thats for sure
Anyway the thing that has been driving me nuts
wait a correction please
ONE of the things that has been driving me nuts
for just ages and ages now is that I am very good at a small number of things
you have to imagine the period
next sentence please
I am very good at a small number of things and very bad at a middling number of things and very average at an incalculable number of things
And this bothers you WHY you ask
clever as you are you asked without punctuation
at least you did in my head
It bothers me because most of the things on my list of things that I am very good at
and the rest are useless
and while my favorite things in the world
are useful things such as machines and manufacturing and plants and animal husbandry and tools and paper supplies and small appliances and also probably cooking skills and balloon animals and high technology
WHEW pant pant pant
while those useful things draw me in like a moth to a flame they have not seen fit to make themselves understandable to me
sort of like languages and math
I can fake it really well
but I stink at some crucial part
for instance VOCABULARY RETENTION if you are talking about languages
and I was
or EVERYTHING if you are talking about higher math
and I was trying not to
so while I crave crave crave to be good enough at something that I could speak about it
write about it
learn enough to get really good at it
maybe make money at it
or just polish it into an avocation
the way that elegant Ladies of a Certain Age become painters or photographers or paper makers
while I want to be really good at something
even just one thing
I have no idea where to start and no particular skills to hone
and as far as I know being really good at Facebook is nothing more than an annoyance
and a cheap one at that
Tell me this isn't the cutest hat you've ever seen?
My friend Jane (known elsewhere as Cactus Petunia) makes these and sells them at her Etsy site. Now, I can't promise you there's enough time to order between now and Christmas, but it's worth a shot if you've got a cute kid who likes owls.
And what cute kid doesn't like owls?
While you're looking at the owl hats, look at Jane's fairy series. She's an artist, extremely creative, and she makes beautiful things. But for now, I'm just waiting for my three owl hats.
Come back later this week for at least one more FOOLHOGG* recommendation.
*Foolery Holiday Gift Guide
If, like me, you're having a reeeeeeeally hard time dredging up any Christmas spirit and ho ho ho, this book may do the trick. (Written by James Doti and illustrated by Lisa Mertins.)
(Book cover and sample illustration stolen from the book's web site)
If you're looking for a new Christmas book to share with a young child, this is a beautiful choice. The story is true but very simple, written by James Doti about a visit to his grandmother as a child in Chicago's Little Italy. My girls are a little bit old for the story, but not for the heart of Mr. Doti's tale. Who could not love a story about a grandma who bakes cookies, and a pet dog and snow and big city life? They love it.
I had the privilege of meeting Lisa Mertins, whose delightful illustrations give the book life, at an event last month. Though I've known her through the internutz and admired her painting skills, I was thrilled to find out that she's just as nice and interesting and funny as she is talented.
I ordered A Christmas Adventure in Little Italy directly from Lisa, but you can order it from the web site or from your favorite bookseller.
From the web site:
Stay tuned for tomorrow's FOOLHOGG -- another good gift under $15!
(Original photo stolen from these guys)
NICE LADY ON THE PHONE: Hello, may I speak with Laurie . . . Laggrawn, please?
ME: This is Laurie.
CONFIDENT LADY ON THE PHONE: Hello Miss . . . Laggrawn, how are you today? This is Rapunzel from [COMPANY NAME]. We notice that you-all are not getting any hits on Yahoo or Google, and --
ME: We're an advertising agency, with only local clients. We're doing just fine.
MYSTIFIED RAPUNZEL LADY ON THE PHONE: So you-all are happy that way? That folks can't even find you?
ANNOYED RAPUNZEL LADY ON THE PHONE: Okay, thank you.
Someday I'll tell you how I get rid of ink and toner people.
Here's my list of ten, in no particular order, each for their own strange reason.
me all the
nasty e-mails you want -- you know I'm right. The women who SHOULDN'T
are the first ones who WILL wear these. And the women who CAN wear these
probably still SHOULDN'T. I am 100% certain I WON'T. You're welcome.
Reporting live from Fooleryland, where we keep the sausages on the grill, the muffins in the breadbox, and the camel's toes squarely on the ground.(All images stolen from HerRoom.com, which I love, but COME ON)
I'm ready for the slings and arrows now.
The postcard inviting me to the Uppercase Living home decor open house read "give any room in your house a style and personality that reflects you and your family." Here are some examples of their wall typography from their web site:
(All original images stolen from Uppercase Living)
(Original photo stolen from this site)
I have none.
I've never seen a ghost, or anything that wasn't easily explained in unexotic terms later. I had one very odd experience that tempted me to think "ghost," until my brother and I put our heads together and figured out that we had had a pretty close (broad daylight) call with a very brave would-be home invader -- while my brother was home.
So what am I, chopped liver? How come ghosts avoid me? I have had more than one person tell me that I have a Very Old Soul*, so wouldn't a ghost think I was sort of trustworthy and musty and dusty, and come pop in for tea and sympathy?
In fact, in 44 3/4 years I can identify only two events that made my hair stand up. Neither one of them is light or funny and I don't have it in me tonight to do either story justice, so I'll spare you.
What gives, ghosts? Maybe I don't watch enough "Medium."
(Original photo stolen from these guys)
*I know that's hard to believe, but I am actually smarter than I appear in this rearview mirror called the Internutz. And only half as silly as I appear. And much much MUCH older and mustier in the soul department.