Oh Dear

Well.  It appears we’ve actually become part of the blogosphere.    Had to delete a couple of posts, and, really.  Who knew?  I guess it’s a good thing, but it IS interesting what people will do in the privacy of their keyboards.  Yipes to the comments, I mean.   Anyway, the Veil  of Secrecy has been drawn across that episode.   And, Google translation?  Good for a laugh, not much more.

Meanwhile, it all continues apace.  Thanksgiving went well, by which I mean not only a beautiful day and good food, but: NO INJURIES OR THIRD DEGREE BURNS.  It started out normally enough, with me making the delightful discovery in the back bottom of my pantry of two, not one but two, apparently exploded at some time in the distant galactic past, cans of sweetened condensed milk.  Goo all around.  Black goo.  Sticky, metallic, black goo. ( The miracle was there were no ants.)  But I take heart from the fact that instead of the entire day being like that, it stopped there.   I mean, I’ve had Thanksgivings that featured chestnut-related eviscerations, dramatic last minute bird funerals (not the turkey’s, either) and plumbing disasters attended to by members of the Hell’s Angels.  This was all quite pleasant, really, this go round.  No blood in the stuffing or anything!

I did have lots of ostensible ideas to write about, really I did.  But the Christmas potion mixing season is upon us, so I find myself occupied with finding the right tool for the job most often.  You’d be amazed how challenging that can be sometimes.  One thing we do here, is we fill jars with cream.  A pastry piping bag is perfect.  Except we don’t want to use the same bag for the creams as we do for the BUTTER creams.  For some reason.  So we use plastic bags.  But we ran out.  So we got DISPOSABLE piping bags.  But they were too small.  So…..you see how this is going.  And it’s not just the right tool for the job, either.

No.  It’s the freaking inordinate amount of time I still have to spend in Night on Customer Service Mountain.  My new business motto is: JUST SAY NO.  No, I don’t want to be featured at the top of Google for a mere $100 a month.  No, I don’t want another cel phone account when I have 5,000 leftover minutes on the one I have, for coincidentally? $100 a month.  No, I don’t want to be signed up for your special extra credit card fee.  Which, can you guess how much? Bingo.  $100.  SO, NO.   And, really, I did not to subscribe to both MUJER and LATINA magazines so don’t bill me. Then there are the follow up phone calls to the bowels of the universe, the depths of hell where the music never changes, when, my gosh, the assured corrections have not been made and wow! Not only are bells ringing but things are bouncing. No, I didn’t sign up for that.  No, no, no.  I’m being attacked by worms, by spiders,  by my HAIR.  It can’t decide if it’s on fire or not.  Not even! I got some new “product” from my hair impressario and I guess it is only to be used if you’re actually styling your hair, like with a dryer? or something? and not twisting it into a knot to let it dry in 40 degree weather.  Because then, then, well.  It does something rather unspeakable which is to remove every shred of body the hair might ever have had.  Ha, ha.  

Anyway.  We’re all fine! Really! We’ll keep you posted, as it were.

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