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Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Unorthodox Arch-Nemesis of the Chocolate Indoctrination

You guys need to go check this out. I'm always amazed at how many ways this wonderful woman can find to raise money for various charities, and this one is so cute and fun that you won't be able to help jumping into the community hot tub with the rest of us. Yes, click the pic. It explains the title of my post today.


THIS.


I regularly go through microwave fear and scour the internet about once a year to make sure our 1980s Montgomery Ward monster microwave is still safe (because the internet knows, right?), and here is today's perusal in case you like scaring yourself silly and feeling calmed down by lengthy discussions in old forums and jaunting off into distraction.

Turtlenecks and Ugly Couches: The Montgomery Ward Catalog of 1978 (yes, kids, I am this old)

Hilariously Ambitious Cookbooks from the Dawn of the Microwave (this was awesome)

How safe is it to use a 20-30 year old microwave? (it's so hard to tell, because my 80+ dad has his jury-rigged and it still takes 5 minutes to heat a cup of water, BUT he's still alive so it's obviously not nuking him- this is pertinent because it's identical to my microwave, which is in way better shape)

4 Ways to Check a Microwave for Leaks (easy, cool, erroneous- according to the next article)

microwaved- microwaves resolved (Scott, I'm gonna put the netbook with our network on it into the microwave for a sec, ok? Your fantasy teams might freeze up.)

'reducing the life expectancy of the magnetron'-Does this happen? (I find comfort in techy yap by real engineers, and they seem pretty cool with my microwave without even having seen it, so I'm good now and can move on with my morning.)


One week till Thanksgiving!!!!! I had the most wonderful luv fest live tweeting the Macy's parade on twitter last year, laughing my head off at the tweepers who grumped about it clogging up their timelines, all the hilarious stuff my beloved fellow Americans were saying about floats and commercials and the commentators and the crowds, and when you've had as much hot chocolate as I had that morning (spiked with way too much real vanilla ~wink~), it becomes a float fest in more ways than one. This year I'm going to take a pre-burrito pain pill and a xanax and really float. I have watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade nearly continuously since I was tiny. Five decades, people. I've missed maybe 5 years, tops. Y'all know KISS is in the lineup this year, right?


When I was a kid, Thanksgiving was awesome because we played games all day, sometimes with cousins all over the place. I really miss that. I have adapted to Thanksgiving football since I married Scott. The best parts for me are the tailgating competitions (Guy Fieri is my fave!), the commercials, the decor on the commentary sets, and the awesome fans out in the crowd that go all out smashing turkey cosplay into their regular team spirit craziness. My party pretty much goes on all day, starts at dawn, goes into the night.

AND- we get burrito while mama starts Black Friday shopping, yay! Last year Scott went with her and tag teamed, they were popping in and out of stores and I was updating their locations on twitter and facebook like I had a stopwatch. They scored one place in ten minutes flat. I remember when I worked retail, whole families came in and fanned out with walkies, maps, and instructions, like cool real time scavenger hunts. I loved it. I wish we'd done fun stuff like that when I was a kid, but back then no one shopped on Thanksgiving or lined up around stores all night to shop the next day.

I grew up in a family that never went out on Thanksgiving unless it was to someone else's house. No one ever drank, and the only thing we kids did was play games, watch the parade, and eat turkey while the grownups talked about politics. I got in trouble for something nearly every time we wound up in other people's houses, like nearly stabbing my thumb off and blood everywhere, or throwing up on the carpet (yes, I got in trouble for being sick), knocking my drink over all over the nice tablecloth... Always something. Experiences like those solidified me being much more laid back as an adult myself. Stuff happens. The harder you try to make something perfect, the more realistically the world (or a kid like me) proves to you that there is no such thing as perfection. Pictures in magazines are just pictures. Chillax. I always had more fun at the kids table, anyway. I miss that.

Look at me wasting time, it's nearly 7 a.m.! Here, study this so you know what NOT to do next week when crunch time is on (like, invest in a real pan...)

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