Recipe Boxes

Something came up today that made me think about recipe boxes. You know those heirloom collections of handwritten recipes on index cards? I didn’t inherit my grandmother’s cooking skills, but I did wind up with her recipe boxes. And I’m fairly sure that at least a few of the recipes go back to my great

The Twenty-Four Hour Rule to the Rescue

It’s been one of those days. What kind of day, you ask? Uhm… the kind of day where I broke my shed. Yeah. Apparently, you can do that. I’m accident prone, and I know it… but not so accident prone that anybody’s ever said Look at the shed, but don’t touch. Admittedly, it’s a very

The Times, They Are A–What the Fuuuuu-?!!

Ah, Hanes. Purveyors of economy underwear and socks in bulk… Well, it was bound to come to this. We have face masks by the box. Obviously, I bought a box. Black and white. I got black. The white ones seem just a little too much like wearing underpants on my face. There’s the part of

How to Fully Reopen the Public Schools By 2026

The first step in reopening schools is figuring out what the actual, mathematical 6-foot social distanced capacity of the school is. Add a margin for error–or for children pretending to be dinosaurs. Room by room. If everything runs perfectly, how many children can be in this room? What if it doesn’t go perfectly? Guess what?

Luncheon With the Future Mrs. You Bastard

In one of the more misguided social-distancing efforts, tables have been removed from the break room, and chairs have been removed from the tables that are left. That would be all fine and good, but the truth of the matter is that it forces people to sit together (even when they wouldn’t have, before) and

The Social Event of the Pandemic

I went to the grocery store today. It was a big occasion. My first standalone grocery store trip since the beginning of the pandemic. Usually, I get groceries after work. Not today. Today, the refrigerator hit zero, and I was forced to make a special trip. You know. A trip where I get up, and

Comic Books and Thanksgiving at the Hi-Way Diner

After four or five generations of togetherness, the “Family Thanksgiving” finally exploded a few years back. Nothing horrible ever happened. It was more of an old woman who lived in a shoe arrangement. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, cousins’ spouses/significant others/crypto-others and their children. And if you’re doing math, that’s roughly two busloads full of people

Me, Too: The Thing About Thinking

Does the world really need another “Me Too” post? At this point, I want to believe the ball is rolling, and that things will get better. I mean… if Hollywood looks like it’s about to clean house… Well, I think we all knew Hollywood’s a cess pool. But somewhere along the line, I ran into

Cemeteries and Science

Somewhere, in the Great American Prairie, on land that belonged to a town that no longer exists, you will find a small cemetery. Be sure you close the gates. You don’t want to chase the cows out, and the volunteer who mows doesn’t want to clean up after them. Now and then, a new grave

The Answer is Tourism. Always Tourism.

I live in a historic town. You can tell by the road signs and billboards, and by the fact that here and there, you have a building that is more than a hundred fifty years old. It’s not a particularly exciting history. And honestly, it’s not that much different than the history that the other

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