Okay. It is two days before xmas. I got to my fave big-box grocery and HOME again at least a half hour before sun-up. Despite the dark and rain, it was a nice little zen drive over and back and no line at the uScan. Quick in and out.

Then I hit up the Plum where I had ducks to pick up and a few other items. I surprised my fave cashier by going through her line instead of the uScan. Reason? Because there was a complicated situation with the ducks – I had paid a deposit (online) and needed to pay the balance. I’ll be back there tomorrow morning. I already have a[nother] list going…

This morning at the Landfill? Total chaos!!! The GG is rummaging madly through the dungeon finding MORE books AND STUFFED AMINALS! Green Doll and a monkey and I dunno what else. This particular dungeon romp began when the Scrap Box posted on facebook that they needed paper grocery bags and we still have some from the heavy-duty pandemic era when I was not going inside stores. Plum double-bags everything for curbside pickup. They don’t provide plastic bags at all and I take my own re-usable bags over there now.

I am HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY that this is happening and even happier that he doesn’t seem to need my help except to occasionally spring random things on me. Things I bought at some point in history and don’t remember (or want to remember) why. Oh, nothing that broke the bank. Just crapola.

Yes, I took a blahgging day off yesterday (but not without alerting the beach urchins). Used to be it was The Commander that noticed when I didn’t blahg. In those days, the beach urchins were probably rolling their eyes that their baggy old mooma duck was blahgging at all. Now they’re like, “where’s the blahg?”

Anyway, we “entertained” last night although I don’t think I was very entertaining 🤡🤡🤡 Yooperland swampland was one of the main discussion topics and I have some opinions about that oh boy oh boy. DO NOT DEVELOP IT. JUST DON’T! Alas, people are determined to fill wetlands in and build McMansions. I am not a fan and I quite vociferously (but not eloquently) expressed my opinions. Even though I was basically preaching to the choir as both we and our guests own Gitchee Gumee beach property with swampland behind it. But my brain was totally exhausted at the end of it all.

When I was a kid in Sault Ste. Siberia, after opening our presents at our house xmas morning, we went to my grandparents’ house for breakfast (and more presents) and then had xmas dinner at either their house or my aunt and uncle’s house. Both much larger houses than our shabby little Superior St. bungalow.

At some point in the day, the aplets and cotlets would get put out. Some relative or friend in the PacNW sent my grandparents a box every year. I *thought* they came from a company called Harry and David.

Fast forward about a gazillion years. I started getting Harry & David spam. It was NOT the result of searching for aplets and cotlets. I liked them fine as a kid but they are certainly not something I would seek out. And actually, although I didn’t do an extensive search, I didn’t find aplets and cotlets on their website although I did see them on *other* companies’ websites. This blows my brain a bit but not enough to spend any time researching it.

But Harry & David does have some interesting stuff and I have occasionally ordered things like brie en croute or lobster pot pie from them. These are really good but one of the problems with ordering perishable stuff online is that it comes with TONS of packaging and, in yesterday’s package, dry ice. A BIG bag of dry ice. I don’t really know anything much about dry ice except that it can cause frost bite. The plastic bag it came in noted that as it melts, if it is in an enclosed container, it can cause an explosion. I dunno if that was possible in this situation but since the plastic bag was closed up tight (and I am a big chicken), I cut a hole in it and set it in a big bowl to let it melt. Or uh, sublimate, see the P.S.

Of course when the GG came home from wherever he was, he was all excited about the dry ice and decided he wanted it in a cocktail, which is shown here. As a Certified Mad Scientist, he *does* know about dry ice. The cocktail makes a good photo op but in the end it made a pretty big mess and I was relieved when it completely melted sublimated this morning.

And yes, it’s completely possible that I can obtain brie en croute right here in town. Not sure about lobster pot pie…

P.S. I asked the Mad Scientist where the dry ice went. His reply was, “to the basement.” Whut? I got this detailed reply (which I asked him to write out and email to me): Dry ice is 100% Carbon Dioxide, which is about 52 grams per cubic foot at room temperature. Carbon Dioxide is more dense (heavier) than air. Air is roughly 36 grams per cubic foot and is approximately 78% Nitrogen, 21% Oxygen, 0.9% Argon, 0.04% Carbon Dioxide, and other stuff. Consequently, when it sublimes into a gas (transforms directly into a gas from a solid without becoming a liquid) from solid dry ice, it makes a very entertaining gaseous fog that falls to the kitchen floor, then drifts across the kitchen floor to the basement steps. The CO2 goes down into the basement. Eventually it dissipates and magically goes away.

First and foremost, my usual disclaimer. COVID IS NOT OVER!!! People are still getting it. People (alas) are still dying from it. Not even to mention that plenty of folks are dealing with other respiratory illnesses. And some are dying from those…

That said, one of the victims of covid may be the cFam xmas party. I have been going to the cFam party since I married the GG, maybe even before. I think we may have missed one or two years. On the other hand I went one year when I was recovering from The Worst Vomiting Virus On Earth. I think I spent the entire evening in the same easy chair. No food or whine for me. As usual (but not always), it was potluck and my dish was lasagna. My mouse made it that year, acting on orders I dictated from the Green Couch (R.I.P.) in between sucking on ice chips.

This party used to migrate to various people’s houses, including mine a couple times. In the last few years, only one of the cFam siblings had enough space in a location that most people could travel to. As our numbers have grown, The Landfill long ago became a non-option. Just not enough space in our loverly little house and only one goddamn bathroom.

In 2020 the family made what I thought was a wise decision to cancel. Ditto for 2021 and 2022. I’d’ve been ambivalent this year but generally wouldn’t have looked forward to spending a number of hours inside with a bunch of people, even people I love and enjoy spending time with. Not to mention traveling 40 miles back and forth although at least we don’t seem to be expecting winter weather crapola this particular season. (The party was always before xmas, we all spend xmas at our own homes.)

Are we done with this tradition “forever”? I dunno. There is always the option to rent a “hall” somewhere centrally located. Or we could meet at the Hoton Lake “group home” sometime in the summer. But organizing a summer event would come with its own set of challenges. Ask me about the 100-year moominbeach anniversary that never even came close to happening.

When my first beach urchin was two months old, I was all excited about taking her up to the yooperland for her first xmas. We went to the cFam party a couple days before xmas, then left for the north. In one of our little Ford Fiestas. It was all good for a while until “something” started coming out of the sky. The roads got AWFUL and we ended up making an unplanned stop at a motel half way up. The old fashioned mildew-smelling kind of motel.

The next morning was not much better but we made it and I was awarded a moment of joy when I walked into the grandparents’ house and set my baby down in her grandmother’s lap. My baby broke out an absolutely HUGE SMILE! She remembered her grandmother from maybe a month previously. We had fun that xmas but the weather absolutely sucked with rain and freezing rain and the trip back down wasn’t any better. Because we began our trip in the morning, we didn’t have to stop overnight but the baby cried the entire last half hour of the trip and we were (again) dealing with freezing rain.

I decided then and there that going to the yooperland for xmas was NOT a priority. I didn’t get a lot of vacation time in those days and taking it in the summer seemed like a much better strategy. Not that we didn’t ever go back there at xmas again. But it was not a priority and we always spent xmas DAY here at the Landfill, making our own traditions such as they are. In the end, it is just another day.

No no no no NO NO NO! I cannot! I can sew. I own my own sewing musheen. Actually two sewing musheens.

I learned to sew from The Commander. I was twelve (whining about wanting to be a teenager…) when I made my first dress. Light blue/white gingham with a zipper up the back. When I was a high school freshman, a couple years later, I still fit into that dress (but it was a little tighter) and my icky algebra teacher took it upon himself to tell me (in private) it was not an appropriate dress because… his words failed him… but probably breasts… I mean women have them (and mine were very small then). F*cker (and friend of my parents to boot).

I made many more articles of clothing. Some worked out better than others. I have made quilts. I have done knitting and crocheting and macrame and beading beading beading beading. I love fiber arts!

There are people who make decent livings doing fiber arts. I am not one of them. I wasn’t really suited to be a gainfully employed musician either. Computer stuff? Okay.

Today I stumbled on an instagram account “can you sew this for me”. This account is not totally negative but it collects stories from fiber artists who are constantly asked if they can sew this or that for someone. Like without being paid for their work. Sewing (and other fiber arts) requires extremely intricate skills. It’s not all that different than engineering. Really.

I HAVE sewed things for people without asking to be paid. Sparkly fabric bags for birthday party favors or girl scout troops. Bead-woven “amulet” bags I made for the PIRATE children I volunteered to read with (and to) at the beach urchins’ elementary school. A chicken bolo for a fellow girl scout leader.

I chose to do those things for people I cared about.

Years before that, I was asked by a work person to sew some sort of canvas bag for some water bottles. I (tentatively) said okay. I tried but it wasn’t something I could do. In fact, I didn’t even have a needle that could penetrate the cloth. Many years later, the GG and this person apparently laughed about this failed prodject. I got it but I still didn’t find it all that funny. I still felt bad that I didn’t *finish* the prodject.

But who was I mad at? Meeeee! I should never have agreed to do that prodject. I wasn’t interested in it. I didn’t have the proper tools. He didn’t mention paying me, although I would’ve had no clue what to charge if he had.

It’s been a while since anyone has asked me to sew anything. My own clothing is Chico’s et al these days. If someone did ask me to sew them something, I would squelch my young 20-something self and say, “Nope!”

P.S. if you get a message from “facebook” about your password today, DELETE DELETE DELETE. Do Not click anything in the message. Unsolicited advice from your friendly on-line banking buddy.

By snow legs, I mean winter driving skills. The GG needs to visit FlaMan sometime this week. Today was the ONLY day that snow was forecast in our area. Heavier snow was forecast in the western side of the state. Lake effect from Lake Michigan.

A lot of snow came down today but the temperature stayed in the mid to upper 30s so nothing stuck. At least not on our streets or sidewalks. The freeways were pretty much f*cked. I dunno. I don’t think the roads were all that slippery but I think whenever there is anything wet coming down outta the sky, it’s a good thing to slow down.

This is not the first snow we’ve had and it won’t be the last but the next week and maybe more the high temps are predicted to be in the 50s, etc., so snow not likely. The GG had been thinking about traveling up to visit FlaMan today (60 miles north) but he bagged it and that was okay because freeways were backed up and closed all over the place.

The pic is pre-covid when we were shopping downtown without even thinking about communicable diseases. I am not freaked out about covid enough now to not shop downtown but we soooo do not need anything. And if I were to shop downtown, I would be masked. But the GG would not… … …

I said that to the GG as a beach urchin pulled up in front of the Landfill. His face registered mild surprise. She had texted *us* earlier to say that she would stop by to look through the books we have selected to fling. I KNEW he hadn’t seen the text message. Moom ALWAYS checks text messages. She is text message cheetah. Except when she is driving and her phone isn’t plugged in, which is usually these days because she doesn’t have the proper connector for the iPhone 15 whatever it is (the smaller model that fits KW’s small but strong and agile hands).

It had been a s-l-o-w Sunday here at the Landfill but a comfortable one. Rain almost all day but not a whole lot of frenetic activity and stressing out about things that don’t need stressing out about. We both read books most of the day. I finished the “bad” book I was reading yesterday. I mean, if these people say “I love you” to each other ONE MORE TIME, I am gonna flex my Caithness-bred fingers and shoot lightning at them. I started a better book and am halfway through it now. A murder mystery with an archaeological bent. Not my usual genre but I really like the protagonist (Ruth Galloway) and the setting (marsh) and it’s a pretty fast read and I need that kind of thing to finish my Goodreads challenge. I can dig in to more dense stuff next year. But I’ve done David Copperfield and Game of Thrones so those are off my list. Although you never know, I may re-read Nicholas Nickleby.

Our beach urchin took a box of books (and had a wee glass of whine with her moom). She took a couple books I was having trouble parting with although I was ready. They were about nature journaling. A combination of writing and drawing observations in nature. I am entranced with the idea of drawing but not sure I will ever throw myself into it, even though I don’t actually think I would be bad at it. One of my mantras about getting rid of books is, “If I regret flinging this book, I can probably find it on eBay”. In this case, I can find it at my daughter’s house, two miles away.

So turkey tetrahedron (aka tetrazzini) tonight to get rid of the last of the Thanksgiving turkey (don’t worry, I had frozen it) and broccoli. We’ll probably be eating this a few times as leftovers this week and I may freeze some of it. I have duck(s) for xmas ordered from the Plum to pick up on Saturday. And I am thinking enchiladas for when we porterize ourselves at the Landfill later this week… … … Do youz guyz like enchiladas? I mean our friends of porterization, not my huge (not) number of blahg followers.

Meaning we have had two dinner engagements in a row, Thursday and Friday night. At people’s houses, not restaurants, in part because covid but also because restaurants are madhouses during the holiday season. That can be fun but I’m not quiiiite there yet. I have more or less committed to a couple restaurant outings in January because that’s Birthday Month, which I’ll talk about some other day.

I *have* gone to restaurants during covid (not to mention a Big Fat Greek Wedding). But I like to cook for more than two people and the Landfill is pretty at this time of year, in part because in the early dark of solstice evenings you can’t see things like dust or clutter🐽🐽🐽 I mean there’s ALWAYS dust but there is even more clutter than usual because we have multiple de-acquisitional prodjects going on.

We will have one or two or whatever dinner engagements during the next couple weeks. One at the Landfill (sometime this coming week), others *probably* at The Landfill assuming they happen. Visiting cousins here to see My Dear Uncle Harry will not stay here. For one thing, it is a TREK from the Landfill to MDUH’s apartment. Also, MDUH is in good shape but caring for elderly parents can be exhausting (been there done that) and it’s nice to have your own space at the end of the day. Ask me about our Flor-i-duh rescue mission some day and that wasn’t even a *parent*. If nothing else, I do expect to get a “can we come over for a ‘hattan” text at some point. And the answer is yes yes yes yes! Stock up, KW! Whine Castle, here I come.

In my scramble to finish my Goodreads challenge this year, I am reading short books (300 pages or less). I am not enamored of the one I’m reading at the moment. Castles of Steel and Thunder. It isn’t boring, exactly, just maybe a little more fantasy than I’d like, a little too much romance, and I dunno, sophomoric? Like if I am actually from Caithness, why can’t I spew light staircases and other objects from my fingertips?

I can’t remember how it flew by but what caught my attention is it is (partially) set in Caithness and if memory serves me right, that’s the area of Scotland where my dad’s grandfather came from, along with *his* dad and a lot more siblings than the numbers modern FinFam folks produce. They immigrated to Canananada and if I have it right a few of the “boys” joined the Mounties and went west (young man) and likely mixed it up with the Native Americans. I mean married them. An Asian-American woman I used to work with at Cubelandia once asked a group of hallway hangers-out what side of the Civil War our ancestors fought for. Those kinds of questions bug me (don’t get me wrong, Cynthia and I were *friends*) but I rode with it and told about my grandfather’s Mountie uncles.

In truth, although my dad’s parents were both Scot via Canananada, mom’s family(ies) immigrated (from various British Isles) to the States. But I have no knowledge of anyone fighting on EITHER side of the Civil War, although I would guess Union since Detroit is where mom’s parents/grandparents ended up. But. I think most of my relatives came to this country in the later 1800s, so AFTER that war.

But the mountie answer raised some eyebrows and my friend said something like, “Oh you were pioneers!” Maybe “we” were but I am still laughing.

Where the heck am I? Maybe it’s time to end this rambling bunch of blather. Orangeya glad I didn’t blahg about pro-choice again today? 🐲🐲🐲

Don’t read if you don’t want to listen to me rant about pro-choice stuff.

First, as far as I know, men cannot get pregnant, transgender or not. And I am pro-trans because I don’t believe that every person is born with a clearly defined sex or gender. I am probably mixing up these words despite taking quite a few women’s studies classes in college and reading a lot of books. Music was my main focus in college and computer stuff has been my main focus in my adult careers. So there’s a lot I don’t know but I do care about people who are not born comfortable in their assigned sex. I *was* but not everyone *is*.

I do not understand why ANYONE thinks it is okay to force a woman (Texas) to try to bear a fetus with a non-viable chromosomal abnormality to term. This woman already has two healthy children and wanted this child (and wants more). But this pregnancy has put her in the emergency room multiple times. What is the point? Why can’t she choose to abort this fetus as the best decision for her and her family? And yes I know she was able to obtain an abortion. She was lucky enough to be able to afford to travel out of state to obtain one. Not everyone can do that.

A lot of people seem to be ecstatic that the US Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. Oh yahoo! States rights! Yabadabadoo! States rights might be an important issue but the decision to overturn Roe v. Wade had NOTHING to do with states rights. It was an outright grab to keep women from making their own decisions.

And what about the fathers’ rights? What about them indeed? The Texas woman seems to be happily married to a supportive man and he seems to have supported her choice. They already have two healthy children together. But what about women (and GIRLS) who become pregnant by rape or incest or a shaky relationship or a one-night stand? In those situations, it is the WOMAN who ends up shouldering the burden of birthing and raising the child. Some women have loving family support. Many others do not. The men in these situations are mostly not held accountable.

I think I’m at the end of my tether tonight. If you read my rant, thank you. Cheers to all mothers, including those who have CHOSEN to birth and raise children under less than ideal circumstances. But also to those who choose abortion because they are carrying a non-viable fetus or know that they are not ready to raise a child.

I wish our country would show more compassion to those who are facing these often excruciatingly difficult situations.

What a day! I was really pretty slodgy. My work is reaaaallly slow at this time of year and although I can always find things to do, I wasn’t feeling it today. So not very productive.

We had an invitation to visit the country mouse’s house tonight for a steak dinner. I contributed ‘hattans and steak knives. The GG walked over there in the mid afternoon (it’s six miles north of town, mostly unpaved back roads) and I drove over after I finished my not-very-productive work day.

Ulp. In the back of Cygnus, the GG had loaded bags of stuffed aminals to be sorted out for donation, etc. This was hard for all of us. Some are being donated for sure. Others are being kept by their original owners or gifted to friends who might like them. It’s all good. I just don’t want them in my house. I tried hard to cling to my “stay outta the fray” mantra throughout this. Tears may have been shed but they weren’t mine.

But then there was Bunny. My little brother and I were given identical bunnies for Easter one year. How old was I? I’m not sure. We look so sweet here in this pic taken in my bedroom. Note the silver Hollywood-looking headboard. I remain AMAZED that The Commander bought that for me. We’ll talk about the Golden Book Encyclopedia set another day. Anyway, we look sweet in the pic but I am pretty sure we had some sort of fight over the bunnies sometime that day that resulted in The Comm putting a colored stitch in one bunny’s foot so we could tell them apart. Jeebus.

Turns out Bunny was in a bag that was not intended to travel to this event and he/she is safely home at the Landfill. Bunny would not really be donate-able anyway as he/she looks quite a bit the worse for wear.

See these FOUR little Santas? Now there are two…

These Santas were part of The Commander’s Santa collection. In the pic, they are on the window sill of her assisted living apartment in the Sault Ste. Siberia Freighter View facility (in 2011). She had a small room there but it was in a great location because she could look directly out at the Soo Locks and watch the lake freighters go up and down through the locks.

We had set up some lights and decorations (including these FOUR little Santas) earlier in the month but this was taken on xmas day. It was her last xmas. We spent a wonderful xmas day with her, including a traditional kind of turkey dinner up at her house, The Dillon House. The next day she suffered from yet another bout of “aspiration pneumonia” and landed in the hoosegow again. This was experienced by my then sister-in-law and her daughters, meaning they did not have a very good last xmas with The Comm. For that I am forever sorry but it wasn’t my fault and I have no words except maybe shit happens.

So I adopted The Comm’s Santa collection, which included these FOUR little Santas. A couple years ago, I had this little set of FOUR little Santas out as usual. I don’t know exactly what happened but I *think* The Pensioner put them away. The next year, I could only find two. This is really silly but I was kind of devastated. I didn’t stash the remaining two with the rest of the Santa “collection” that year. I left them out where I could see them so as to not lose any more.

I can’t describe the conversation I had with the GG today but he totally didn’t remember that there were two missing Santas. Or understand how much those Santas mean to me. Or why. Which I haven’t even figgered out. I mean, I get rid of stuff all the time and wouldn’t have a problem getting rid of a lot of the kitschy Santas in the collection (although I haven’t yet). And I also was okay with letting The Commander go. I miss her back in the days when we would gossip like crazy but the last couple years of her life sucked for both of us.

My yearly disclaimer: I do not actively collect Santas. I am de-acquistioning.

He’s a-comin’ whether I’m ready for him or not. The Pensioner was getting dressed to go outside late this afternoon. Where to now, I had to ask… I’m getting my chainsaw out. Why? To saw some wood. What wood? The xmas tree. Gulp.

As always happens at this time of year, I had already looked at the calendar and thought something like “OMG! It’s coming up too fast.” Just a month ago it was Veteran’s Day and we were at a Big Fat Greek Wedding (at which we did not contract covid thank you very much). It is now a month later and I am not ready but it’s okay because there’s not really all that much to get ready for. For us anyway.

So the xmas tree is in the house. Decorating hasn’t even begun yet. We’ll get there after we get rid of some more crapola.

He bought the tree from Flatsnoots, which is typical. If you buy a tree from Flatsnoots you can get a little snort while you’re there. It sounds sketchy as all getout but they abide by the city/state booze rules and provide a wee bit of low octane alcohol IF you buy a tree. Meaning you are not buying a drink per se. The GG was over there early in the morning and did not partake in the free snort.

Oh don’t worry, it is a first world “1%” issue (not that we are in the 1%). It is also a GOOD thing but it still stressed me out.

The GG is STEAMING ALONG getting rid of crapola. A bunch of boxes of books went over to a local family business (I’ll describe this in a minute) that takes almost ANY book and figures out how to sell or donate or recycle it. Then he started in on the stuffed aminals. This involved conversations with the beach urchins. I think they have long been ready to pass them along to new homes and children that need them and maybe even want that to happen sooner than later. This is the xmas season, which means it’s a good time to donate these. It is still hard. I was set to embark on this fling on my own but kept procrastinating, hoping the GG would take the reins. Now that he has, it isn’t any easier.

I basically couldn’t really watch. But a few ground rules were established. Mice and frogs will stay (for a while, at least). Handmade items by me or The Comm or the beach urchins themselves are still around. Soft Seal and chicken bolo, I am looking at you, among others. Anything that looks extra-loved (and therefore maybe not acceptable as a donation) stays. I fergit what else.

Here’s where my intermittent frustration with MEN comes in. I have known about the Give My Books business for YEARS! I have told the GG about it multiple times. I KNOW I have. But probably not recently because… He never seems to register that I have said ANYTHING. Women speak at a frequency he can’t hear? Probably not me (my voice projects) but whatever. So I kinda gave up. BUT. YESTERDAY. Five minutes after he walked into the Landfill, returning from the yooperland and the northern lower, he said something like, “There is this place near Stone School where you can drop off books.” HEADDESK HEADDESK HEADDESK! Yes! I KNOW ABOUT THAT PLACE!!!! And, according to their website they even accept old textbooks! Bingo.

So he made a run over to give my books this morning, A run to Sharehouse with stuffed aminals was ALMOST gonna happen but didn’t… … …

Other than that, the xmas tree is not coming inside the house until the back room is cleared of boxes, etc. I sound grumpy but I know we’ll get through this.

Love y’all, KW

I do not like to have an audience when I am cooking. Tonight, I have an audience.

The usual evening “thing” is that the GG is at his computer, which is in the next room. I am in the kitch cooking and / or writing my blahg. Or whatever. On SUNDAY evening, I have the local jazz NPR station on. The 6:00 show is usually blues and ends with Taj Mahal cakewalkin’ inta town. Note that I like this kind of music (and most kinds of music) as BACKGROUND music. I rarely go to concerts, etc. I cannot focus, sitting in a seat somewhere. No matter how good the performer is or how much I like them. Long story for another day.

Today. A football game ended. I don’t mind football on TV during the season. All of a sudden a Beethoven symphony started up. At first I thought it was an ad but it kept going on and on and on… Which means someone had put a RECORD on the old STEREO. I like Beethoven too but it is not Sunday evening music for me. Oh, oops, it turns out there is still a football game on. The sound is turned off.

So there he is, multi-tasking. Reading a book with his phone or something on one side of it and a calendar on the other. And a silent football game in the background.

Gratuitous shots of various clutter here in the Landfill. Opened spice drawer. The GG installed this when we gutted our kitchen quiiiite a while ago. I love it. The top of the coffee station we installed last year when a THIRD coffee appliance arrived as an xmas gift. I had always wanted a coffee station in that spot but it didn’t happen when we remodeled because we failed to follow through with installing a lucky-shukial outlet at that time. Last year the GG installed a new outlet and I ordered a coffee station. Yay for us!

Not all that much of a partaaay really but the beach urchins came over to cook dinner for their baggy old moom tonight and also look through all the old books the GG has sorted out to (maybe) get rid of. This is yer baggy old fav-o-rite blahgger being hugged by a beach urchin with a beloved photo bomber in the background.

Did we get rid of any books today? Yes we did. I heard someone at some point yell “metallurgy” from the back room. There are ancient engineering textbooks in our “collection”. The GG believes that the engineering textbooks from the 1940s were better than those of today. Maybe they are, not that the GG would know anything about today’s engineering textbooks since he has a computer science degree and is not looking to get an engineering degree at this point in his life.

The last time I took a gander at the books, I only found one book I wanted to keep. The beach urchins found a few more but I think a few more have joined the fray. The Wonderful Flight to the Mushroom Planet and a couple others I can’t remember off hand. Then one of the beach urchins started to rummage the bedroom shelves for The Bumper Book. A book I knew by heart as a small child and apparently she does too since I read my copy of it to her.

I had been thinking about The Bumper Book sometime last week when NPR said something about King Xerxes. He is in the Bumper Book along with many other characters (Mrs. Striped Chipmunk, The Gingham Dog and the Calico Cat, etc.). It was the last book we found, after A Child’s Garden of Verses, The Golden Songbook, and a couple others, all duct-taped. We found these safely on one of the bedroom bookshelves, meaning that the GG recognized their value and did not include them in his collection of books to fling.

That’s kinda where I am tonight. We got porterized this evening. The GG broke into his brother’s house in Gaylord and joined the call from there. Just kidding about breaking in. He definitely has a key. It’s December and that means I am in a slow period at work. So today was a pretty boring day and I sneaked some reading in. It is in the low 50s here in terms of temperature. That is pretty warm for December in the Great Lake State but not unheard of.

G’night, KW

The alien entity is actually Mr. Golden Sun, who we haven’t seen for a while at least not in all of his brilliant glory. As is typical for this time of year, he is hanging out waaaay low in the sky at, I dunno, sometime around midday and waaaay to the south. Don’t worry, he’ll start to swing back up soon enough. (Don’t look at the dirty doorwall glass.)

The other day when I said I was four down on my 2023 Goodreads challenge… I redid the math and… I am four BEHIND. I have 11 books to go. Crapola. I still think I can make it. I have a week and a half of use-or-lose vacay hours and I am definitely gonna USE them. Who wouldn’t? My co-workers will use theirs. Except maybe Frooggy and Green Guy but they don’t really do much of any kind of work anyway. Take Buoy 22 for an unauthorized flight around the Landfill neighborhood (or to the moon), drink londry detergent with a chaser of Listerine and crash in the londry basket.

The GG is off gallivanting around but he left Froogy and Green Guy home with me as he usually does. They both have a long history with our family. I won’t do the whole thing today but the day I was notified that my brother was in the hospital and might be dying, I left my house in the Dogha (top dollar Honda Accord). I grabbed FROGGY but I was up North Maple a half mile away from home when I realized I didn’t have my god damn PURSE. Jeebus. Yes I did go back. And then I hit the road.

My brother did die that day. I was in contact with our parents throughout all of this and it fell to me to tell them their son was dead. It seemed okay for me to tell them, maybe better me than some others. The next day I drove five hours up to the yooperland, collected my parents, drove them back down the day after. Somehow we got my dad through the funeral crapola.

I didn’t mean to veer off into this kind of stuff. It is part of my life history but it is not something that devastated me. More that I just had to deal with it at the time. My brother knew he was dying and I knew he would want me to carry on and so I did.

G’night, KW

…she needs clothes. Actually “builds” is not an accurate word. “Falls into” is more appropriate. Various people: How did you get your job? Me: TOTALLY ACCIDENTALLY.

I won’t go into the details of that today. When I was starting my job, the elder beach urchin was home from SanFran for her first xmas after graduating from college. For reasons too complicated to explain, I was told to take the week between xmas and New Year’s off. This was my first salaried job in my life (really) and the mothership was willing to eat my idle hours. This bothered me a LOT at first and still does when I feel less than productive. But long ago, when I was fretting about this, a loverly somewhat older colleague counseled me to not worry about it too much. He turned out to be right.

Anyway, I needed some bizcaz clothes. I mean I had some appropriate clothing but not really enough for five days a week. My then SanFran beach urchin and I went on a shopping trip to Chico’s in Briarwood Mall. I was already well familiar with Chico’s (and I am well capable of picking out my own clothes) but I appreciated her company and eye for what might work for me because she has a good eye. I’m sure lunch was also involved.

We got home from our shopping trip and here is my fancy Chico’s bag with my little xmas trees lined up in front of it. In the dark because it is damn dark here the whole month of December. That is why we light xmas trees and candles and yule logs or whatever.

The clothing I bought that day was beautiful but some outfits worked out better for me than others in the long run. Mostly I reaffirmed that I don’t like to wear pants. Skirts skirts skirts.

In the grand scheme of things, nobody at Cubelandia much cared what people wore unless their attire showed some “naughty bits” which I can assure you NONE of us baggy old people were interested in showing. Probably the craziest time was the summer we remodeled the place. Summer casual attire was declared for the duration which meant mainly that refrigerator-shaped men with hairy legs came to work in cargo shorts 🤣🤣🤣

A beach urchin sent a photo of a story in our esteemed Ann Arbor Observer about the local used book glut. If you have read some of my recent entries, you will know that we at the Landfill are in the throes of a major book-flinging prodject.

I would pick a minor nit with the statement that the phenomenon began as covid restrictions eased. On its face, that statement is likely true. But during the early, scary days of covid, most stores and donation centers were not OPEN and/or ACCEPTING anything. Remember when we thought covid was spread by touching things? People were washing their groceries and leaving mail and packages out to decontaminate. Or something. We have the opposite nowadays as porch pirates are rampant. We don’t have a problem with that here because teleCubelandia allows meeee to monitor every delivery. But I think the glut is more that donation centers, etc., are now fully open and people are ABLE to drop things off so they do. And so do WE.

The baby boomer thing? Yes, yes, yes. But I started flinging stuff long ago. I made good steady progress until my parents died and I inherited all their stuff. Disclaimer: The Commander spent the six years between my dad’s death and hers DILIGENTLY de-acquisitioning things. It could’ve been a lot worse. But still there was some stuff.

We are NOT officially downsizing. I mean we are not planning on moving to a condo or whatever. Yikes! We have a small house on a lovely lot in a nice (but not fancy) neighborhood. We are just continuing to simplify our lives. Vacuuming and dusting are a lot easier if you don’t have to move a lot of crapola around.

I don’t *think* the snowplow in the pic plows the streets of Sault Ste. Siberia but not sure. They have some crazy plows up there. It may be that it only plows the driveways and parking areas at St. Mary’s. I did not attend this beautiful church when I lived there as a child but I have quite a few friends who did. My family attended the Central United Methodist Church when I was a kid. Also beautiful. I have never been religious and haven’t affiliated with any church as an adult.

First of all, I finally sneaked a peek at how far behind I was in my 2023 goodreads challenge. Guess what? I am only five books behind! For MONTHS, I hovered at nine below. I just may make it! For the record, the beach urchins also do challenges but we are NOT in competition with each other in any way. I don’t even know where they are in their challenges. It is simply one of the low-stakes ways a moom of adult daughters can connect with them without smothering them or interfering in their (successful) lives.

While the GG continues to do the heavy lifting (and it is *literally* heavy lifting) on the Landfill book organizing/flinging prodject, yer fav-o-rite blahgger STUMBLED on an intriguing way to organize recipes. My recipes have LONG been a mess. I have the hand-written ones (me, The Commander, my Grandma Margaret, and some others). I have quite a lot of cookbooks (which I am NOT ready to fling yet) and USUALLY know pretty much where my faves are. A few of them are even marked with post-it notes. Then there are the ones I once typed into word docs on my computer. Last but not least, there are the ones I have found on the internet and bookmarked.

The last was kind of the final straw. When I upgraded to the iPhone 15, APPLE GOT RID OF ALL MY SAFARI BOOKMARKS! What a pain in the *ss that was. On the other hand, I was storing my recipes in a SLOPPY way, especially ones that I have used MULTIPLE times. Salmon piccata, I’m looking at you!

Out of the blue a couple weeks ago, a facebook friend posted a link to a website/app Plan to Eat. This young woman is a techie I took community college classes with and she later taught classes there herself. AND we’ve been friends with her PARENTS since the old EPA days! This is a tool she has been using for YEARS and I decided to sign up for the free trial.

Aaaand… I think I am hooked. I can type recipes off my old index cards into it. I can copy/paste the recipes on my computer into it. I can capture links from websites (salmon piccata anyone) and it will suck the recipe up and make an ingredient list and instructions. I can easily access it from my phone and laptop. It’ll do grock lists (and more) too although I don’t know that I’ll use those features. Grock lists are great but the Landfill Chitchen is pretty well stocked with staples so I’m good at putting whatever I need (salmon, lemon, capers usually if you’re talking salmon piccata) into my simple list app. Like I don’t usually need to put pepper on a grock list.

I don’t have any association with Plan to Eat except that I am a paid user. Don’t worry, it isn’t gonna break the bank.

I will not be flinging those old hand-written recipe cards but I’ll be happy not to have to frantically rummage through them looking for something. Speaking of rummaging, where is my My Dear Uncle Harry’s recipe for West African Beef Stew? Does he have a recipe for that or am I on “crack”? I thought I had one. I do make Harry’s coq au vin frequently (his kids call it something different, I think) but I don’t need that recipe because it’s burned into my brain enough that I have even tweaked it a bit. It is always a hit.

P.S. This is an old pic and there is NO SNOW here today.

First, I took this pic a few years ago at Hoton Lake. Here today on The Planet Ann Arbor, darkness became dense fog, then it rained ALL DAY. Too warm for snow.

It was okay. After an early Plum dash, I settled into coffee, word puzzles, and mini-chores. I felt a wee bit guilty for not swinging around more because the GG was heavily involved in his book organizing / flinging prodject. But he has the right energy for this right now and I do not, although I have identified a few more books I could get rid of (again, I got rid of tons of books a few years ago). Turns out we have THREE sets of Bookhouse books. I’m not sure how we got to that point but we will fling two sets.

I panic a bit when he comes at me with book(s) or sometimes other things to ask me what they are. I have ordered a few things over the years that I’ve either forgotten about or decided they weren’t the right thing. It’s embarrassing to me to dredge up those stories, even though none of those things ever broke the bank. Still.

But sometimes there is an interesting twist. Like he shoved a paperback version of Samuel Delaney’s sci-fi novel “Trouble on Triton” in my face the other day. Did you order this? Well. Like so many things, it’s complicated. Yes… I read the book as a young person. Paperback of course. I liked it. I eventually got rid of the (paperback) book. I was reading aloud in those days, Mouse’s Train Ride, Charlotte’s Web, the Cat Family Book, Wind in the Willows, Indian in the Cupboard, Gorky Rises, etc. Fortunately by the time Harry Potter came along, the beach urchins had long been completely independent readers. I loved Harry Potter but I was happy to not have to read the books aloud.

A few years ago, I wanted to re-read Trouble on Triton. Problem? It wasn’t available (to me) on my phone. So I ordered a paperback. Problem. I MUCH prefer to read books on my phone. The book languished and then a few years later, I looked for an electronic version again. Voila! There it was. I liked it even more the second time around. So. The GG was wondering if it was a good book… Well… I LOVED it. I’m not sure you would like it as much as I did. We’ll see if he reads it and if he does, whether he likes it.

We don’t always have the same taste in books but we occasionally overlap. The last time we went to Crazy Old Florida for a FUN trip (long story), I decided to read novels about Florida. It turned out I read TWO while we were down there. The one I liked the best was by Carl Hiaasen (Tourist Season, chosen randomly). I’m not sure I can muster words to describe this author. He is HILARIOUS even when writing really gory stuff. For whatever reason, the GG also read the book and I knew when I heard him giggling or saying stuff like “those guys”, that he was enjoying it.

I am doggedly trying to finish my 2023 Goodreads challenge. I am behind and I’m afraid to look at how many books I’m behind. I’m not gonna tonight but maybe tomorrow. I haven’t read another Hiaasen since that trip (2017) but I started one today (Squeeze Me) and I CANNOT put it down. It is set in Palm Beach in the years of the Trumpian Bombasty and I thought, “This might be fun!” And it is. I’m not quiiiite halfway through but so far I am liking how he treats the Orange Baboon and his wife. They are not the main characters but figure into the story in significant roles. Trumpian children are not part of the story, at least not as far as I’ve read. The author’s name for Mar-a-lago is ingenious! And then there are the Potussies…

I’m not sure the GG will be interested in reading this book.