Bubble-what who?

For the record. Crazy Cookie Race. Tea Cup Croquet. Cup Cake Trampoline. Rainbow Garden. Beach Bubble Frenzy. Sky Bubble Popper. Bubble Gum Taxi. Pie Poppin' Dance. I should just leave it right there. Shouldn't I? A larger question should be addressed. Well, could be addressed. Are Susie and I a perfect match? Or is this a symptom of some mutually self-destructive Hello Kitty silliness enabling? The answer is clear. The former. This was a Christmas present. Really. If I were to have (note my use of the subjunctive mood!) a problem, whether it be some allergy to animated dander, or susceptibility to cat scratch fever (we'll leave Mr. Nugent out of this one) ...where was I? Oh yeah, if I were to have a problem, I would have probably played more than just one game each of Tea Cup Croquet, Beach Bubble Frenzy and Sky Bubble Popper. So there. Nyah. It turns out I am pretty good at computer games designed for six-year-old girls. À vrai dire, je les domine!

Inconsistent parenthetical Christmas

Merry Christmas to me. Merry Christmas to me. Last night, that is to say Christmas Eve, I finished cataloging my LP collection. Six hundred and sixty-eight albums. A FileMaker template I designed all by my lonesome. (There is no other way to catalog, or to design templates, except all by one's lonesome). Artist. Album. Year of release (or year of performance for live albums). Cover image. Notes (such as 12" single, EP, pink vinyl, 2 discs, or 3, or 5 (I don't have any 4 disc sets) and finally, track titles.) Can you dig your way out of the parentheses Dear Reader? Well, can you? Scary, I know. But what if I want to compile a list of all the Beatles' songs with the word "Love" in the title? (Don't they all have "Love" in the title?) Punctuation inside or outside parentheses? I feel it coming on. I do. (Which reminds me: I'm getting married Saturday). I still have a few, well, several, album covers to scan. And upload. A few release dates to clarify. Just a few of them. But I've already started on my VHS tapes. Not too many. Fewer than fifty. Inconsistency again. Should I follow some style book and spell out only single digit numbers? Oh well. Too late now. (Not really. I'm just feeling lazy.) Susie and the boy are on the way. Early dinner at mom's. $1.50 movie (there it is again!) Photo booth pictures at the mall. The candy store that sells PEZ will be closed. I know that going in.

Nosebleed seats

Before.
After.The thinner air and occasional onset of vertigo, to say nothing of acrophobia. Warning: digression... Acrophobia is defined in the dictionary as "the abnormal dread of great height." To me, this implies that there is a normal dread of great height. Hmmm. Hey, I warned you. Where was I? Oh yeah, thin air, great height... It all would seem to me to be worth not having to peer over or around someone else. Especially Yosemite Sam and that ginormous hat of his. Hard to tell if "ginormous" is spelled correctly. Or if it's even a real word. Should be. It should be Dear Reader. And the crowd goes wild!

Quick note

The chicken's water just broke. There was a witness. So, if you can't, or won't believe me, just ask milly.

I confess

Not the lovely little ditty by the English Beat. Cookie trays. For friends and co-workers. Recipes from Nana (that's my great-grandmother), grandma, and mom. I am the keeper of the faith. I am, at the very least, the keeper of the tradition. Maybe just the recipes. No, they are not cataloged. Organized, yes. Cataloged, no. OK, OK. Others in my family have the recipes as well. What's that make me? A keeper, not the keeper. Who really cares? I am the one who makes the cookies. Nana's oatmeal cookie recipe is the frosted one in the center. Mmmmm. Frosting. It's even caffeinated. Of course I made extra for peanut butter and frosting sammiches. This picture is of the cookie tray I brought in to work this morning. Aren't you glad you retired when you did? You know who you are. My confession: there were two, count 'm two spreadsheets involved in this year's production.

Hello Christmas!

I don't know what to say Dear Reader. I really don't. Nor should I. A very small artificial Christmas tree and nearly a dozen (which is to say eleven (now I'm just filling space)) Hello Kitties. Is that even the correct plural form? Anyway, Xiao Mengqiu, a.k.a. Sophie gave me the litter when I was in Shanghai. I knew then, at once, what their fates, individual, and collective, were to be. Wouldn't you too have known? Shouldn't you have? They're not even authentic Hello Kitties. Knock-offs. Even more special. Really. Don't worry about me Dear Reader. I may like to peer into the abyss, but I won't jump. I have not named each of them. Yet. (Kidding. I'm only kidding!)

Another season

Basketball practice hier soir. First of the year. Only one of the year. Calendar year. With enough athletes for four traditional 5-on-5 teams and one 3-on-3 team, we needed to get organized. Each of the five teams' rosters would be full. Maxed out. Not enough room for even one more Special Olympian, no matter how valid their excuse for not registering on time. Five teams! Grizzlies, Kodiaks, Polar Bears, Panda Bears, Koala Bears. (I know koalas aren't really a bear Dear Reader). Troy and I coach the Kodiaks. Since 1994. Either 14 or 15 years. Hard to tell exactly because the season used to start earlier and wrap around the New Year. This is the first time in a long time we even held one practice prior to Новый Год. Now we are ready to hit the floor running when weekly practices resume on January the eighth. By "running" I do mean the line drills which we incorporated last season. Conditioning. Conditioning. Conditioning. There are eight returning Kodiaks, and two new ones. Melissa and Molly, ages 20 and 21, probably not respectively. They were excited to be placed on our team. We were excited to have some new blood. Younger blood. Blood that can dribble with either hand, while looking up the court and not down at the ball. In addressing the team at the end of practice, I pointed out to our newest members that Debbie and Char have been on the team every year since we began our coaching careers. And that Molly and Melissa were, at that time five or six. Again, probably not respectively. But maybe. It's going to be a great season.

'Tis a season, or another

The season opened this Sunday past Dear Reader. Nope. Not baseball. Disregarding the winter meetings and the winter leagues. Nevermind. No, the season I speak, nay write of D.R. is of course, the holiday baking season. Cookies. Cookies. Cookies! Not yet. Hang on a sec. First, let's deal with the Library's Holiday Potluck. Desert usually. Cheesecake often. Not this year. I settled on a savory dish. One of my favorites from 1985-86. And though infrequently, since. I cobbled together from few versions of a few recipes ... μουσακάς. Pronounced moos-sah-KAH. But then, you already knew that. Lamb, egglant, white sauce/custard. Mmmm. Eύγευστος! I think. I hope. It has not yet been served. Forgive me if my adjectival declension is in error. Or not. No one will ever know. Either way. On either account. I think.

Skipping ahead. Aside rather. Cookie production has begun. I am not going to be obsessive as I was last year in that I am not aiming for an arbitrary goal as far as the number of cookies to make. (Let me catch my breath after that sentence.) I'll bake and bake and bake and see what happens. Then divvy them up to givvy them away. (Gag.) I have taken a single recipe, for Melting Moments, and turned it into four. So far. Substituting for the vanilla, firstly lemon extract, secondly butterscotch, thirdly peppermint extract, and fourthly anise extract. Nextly almond and after-thatly vanilla. Thenly maybe something else. Other than tasting, there is no way to tell which is which. Maybe smelling, but who holds a cookie to their nose and sniffs at it. And then what? Put it back on the tray?

I am pleased to announce that cookie production has been streamlined some with the acquisition of a couple of Silpats. New, quality cookie sheets as well. You may perform a search using the Google to learn more about Silpats. If you'd like. Do it! You know you want to. C'mon, just google it. There I said it.

888

Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? Why is the sky blue? How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? What time is it? How is everything? Did you like the movie? What is that thing? Are my methods unsound? What seems to be the problem? Have you been flossing? Are you coming back next year? When are you available? Will that work for you? What's your name? Have you seen your mother, baby, standing in the shadow? Really? Are you kidding me? Where does it hurt? Do you take this man...? When are we gonna be there? Who knows what the future has in store for us?