Sooo Cool

So I read somewhere that a thin film of ketchup would clean copper. Shee-yeah, right. 

But it kept nagging at the back of my brain. ...And, metal polish isn't the cheapest. So I finally tried it. 

Proof is in the picture. How cool is that?

Please note: I tested a small area so we could see the 'before' and the 'after.' That's why you still see tarnish around it!

Charlie Bit Me

LO is quite the fan of YouTube. Last night as we were settling down, she said, "Nana, next time you go on YouTube, you've got to see the one about, 'Charlie bit me.' It's great."

So I looked up. Simple, short, and funny enough to share. Enjoy. 

Black Friday

Despite its ominous name, the term Black Friday only means that it's the day that takes retailers into the 'black,' accounting-wise, as opposed to being 'in the red.'

DH and I ventured out yesterday in search of a certain little something Santa whispered to us. They were on sale at our new Kohl's.

We didn't camp out on the sidewalk all night, or wait at the doors when they opened at 4am. We got up, had our coffee, got showers, and arrived at 10am. The parking lot, which is intended for a strip mall, was packed even though the Kohl's is the only store that has been built yet. 

We had agreed to tag-team, meaning, you drop me at the door, I'll go in and swoop up our items. You meet me here and we may have to stand in separate lines and see who gets to a register first. 

Once I was in, I realized we didn't need all our tactics. Although it was really nice to be dropped off at the door. :)

I had had fears that our little item would be gone; the store did open at 4 am, after all. But when I arrived at the site, there they were. We were able to locate the correct ones and, although the store was healthily busy, it was not a madhouse. Since DH had not yet visited our new Kohl's, (he has been to a Kohl's before, just not ours,) we decided to browse a bit. It was  fun. We looked at kitchen stuff. We looked at men's sweaters and he actually allowed us to buy him one. Seeing a stylin' mannequin, I pointed out the components of his outfit. "Do you look at mannequins or at magazines to see what's in style?" I asked him. "No." He just looked at me. "No," he repeated. I looked up at him. "I don't. I just don't." 

Hmm.

 

We visited the womenswear dept and I showed him a little blazer I had tried on a month ago. (in a size smaller than I had worn before!!) Yesterday it was 60% off; we bought it.

The line to check out threaded through the menswear department, shoes, and back to the edge of kitchenware. I staked out a place in line while DH searched for a not-to-be-missed deal on running shoes. Finding none, he joined me and in 5 or 6 short minutes we were next up for a register. A large person in a Santa cap was holding the line at the divider things and signaling which register to approach. "Are you the traffic cop?" I asked. "Sort of, I guess," and then we got a register. 

Sadly, the $10 off for every $50 purchased was not immediate; it came in the form of a coupon to be used next Thursday or afterwards. (They want us to come back.) Still, we got a gift done, and got each other a nice little something in addition. 

DH kindly stopped at a gas station and filled my car. From the station we could see the WalMart parking lot. Wow. Now that's packed. Cars were cruising in search of any place to park. I am sososo thankful we went to Kohl's. It was civilized, clean, and the employees were happy and well-treated. We didn't hear any screaming children. 

Here's a snippet from the NYT about the experience in Ohio. Notice irony in the lady's name. 

Walter Loeb, president of Loeb Associates, a retail consultancy, said there was shopping mania at Wal-Mart every year. But this year, he said, it seems “people are becoming irrational in their actions.”

At a Wal-Mart store in Columbus, Ohio, Nikki Nicely, 19, jumped onto a man’s back and pounded his shoulders when he tried to take a 40-inch Samsung flat-screen television to which she had laid claim. “That’s my TV!” Ms. Nicely shouted. “That’s my TV!”

A police officer and security guard intervened, but not before Ms. Nicely took an elbow in the face. In the end, she was the one with the $798 television, marked down from $1,000. “That’s right,” she cried as her adversary walked away. “This here is my TV!”

Tour of NYC Holiday Windows

Here is a delightful tour of the windows of four department stores: Lord & Taylor, Macy's, Bloomingdales, and Saks Fifth Avenue.

In addition to the gorgeous, colorful pics, are the stories of how they came up with the concepts and how they executed them. Just in time for your blossoming Christmas spirit.

Enjoy!

Thankful

I am thankful for laughter.Laughter has helped me to survive the tough times. It has stopped arguments. It has endeared me to friends and family. It is unanticipated.It's a lovely surprise.

I am thankful for variety. The smoothness of polished wood, the roughness of bark. Cold stormy days and the warmth of our fire at home. The complex tangle of life and the order of nicely folded laundry.

I am thankful to be a creative person. 'Cleanliness is next to godliness'? Cleanliness is always temporary. For me, creativity is next to godliness, as He is the original creator. He made me creative because I am made in His image.

I'm thankful I have a need to create. It makes me feel alive.

I am thankful for the creativity of others. It gives me joy to see what others can conceive. Their creativity inspires me to create.

I am thankful for time alone.

I am thankful for time with others.

I am thankful for water. I love to see it, to feel it, to hear it, and to touch it.

I am thankful for trees. For shade. For the shushing of leaves. For the microclimate they provide. For the dappled light on the ground beneath.

I am thankful for our pets.

I am thankful for children, their hope, their purity.

I am thankful for older people and the wisdom they have to offer.

I'm thankful for books. I'm thankful my parents taught me to love them.

I am thankful for the chances we have to help others. I don't deserve to be blessed. It's a gift, and helping others allows me to show my thanks.

Shocking report on Obama

from http://www.borowitzreport.com/: you gotta love it....

Obama’s Use of Complete Sentences Stirs Controversy

Stunning Break with Last Eight Years

In the first two weeks since the election, President-elect Barack Obama has broken with a tradition established over the past eight years through his controversial use of complete sentences, political observers say.

Millions of Americans who watched Mr. Obama's appearance on CBS' "Sixty Minutes" on Sunday witnessed the president-elect's unorthodox verbal tick, which had Mr. Obama employing grammatically correct sentences virtually every time he opened his mouth.

But Mr . Obama's decision to use complete sentences in his public pronouncements carries with it certain risks, since after the last eight years many Americans may find his odd speaking style jarring.

According to presidential historian Davis Logsdon of the University of Minnesota, some Americans might find it "alienating" to have a President who speaks English as if it were his first language.

"Every time Obama opens his mouth, his subjects and verbs are in agreement," says Mr. Logsdon.  "If he keeps it up, he is running the risk of sounding like an elitist."

The historian said that if Mr. Obama insists on using complete sentences in his speeches, the public may find itself saying, "Okay, subject, predicate, subject predicate - we get it, stop showing off."

The President-elect's stubborn insistence on using complete sentences has already attracted a rebuke from one of his harshest critics, Gov. Sarah Palin of Alaska.

"Talking with complete sentences there and also too talking in a way that ordinary Americans like Joe the Plumber and Tito the Builder can't really do there, I think needing to do that isn't tapping into what Americans are needing also," she said.

Dogs

My DS2 wrote a heartbreaking account of neighbors who totally ignore their dog. We had just such a sitch recently when our NDN's to the west kept a dog outside on a lead.
"Bones" is a beautiful dog, big and strong, with a sweet personality, well-hidden behind his fierce and sad exterior.
They don't have a fence, and I was surprised they had a dog at all, since their prior experience with ignoring dogs wound up with the gas meter reader suffering a nasty bite and the dog being euthanized.
So Bones was kept on a heavy chain in the backyard. He often wound it round things so that he, too, couldn't reach his food or water. When he could reach his water, he often flipped it so that he was in a huge puddle of mud, piss and dung.
He barked incessantly. He needed attention. Water. Food. Our summer days get long and hot and the 5-gallon bucket they filled with the hose was easily flipped. I longed to buy him a kiddie pool, totally unflippable, but hated to get involved. These neighbors are hostile and resentful.
About 2 weeks after he arrived, I approached the husband, the more approachable of the family, and shared that DH was having trouble sleeping during the day after working all night, as the barking was incessant. He said he'd take care of it.
Nothing happened.
Next I approached the adult son, who actually owned the dog. He had moved home after his trial with work/apartment/independence had not been so successful. He punctuated my every sentence with one statement: "It's temporary."
It was temporary for three years.
Undaunted, well, daunted but not yet beaten, I finally called the wife, who really resents me.
I called her on the phone, chicken that I am, and told her I really needed her help. I explained that DH works nights a lot and Bones' barking was interfering with his ability to sleep. "We don't hear a thing," she lied. "...and we don't even have nice storm windows like you do."
Hmm.
One Sunday afternoon Bones had barked for over an hour when I saw the husband on his front porch and mentioned it. He walked round to the back yard and ... KICKED THE DOG IN THE HEAD. The dog stopped barking. I never complained again.
The oddest thing we noticed over the three year sentence was that he had three distinct barks. He had the angry, I'll-eat-you-alive bark that he gave when he was trying to do his job for the owners.
He had the plaintive, look-at-me-I'm-just-a-playful-pup bark he gave when any of their family were outdoors. He'd flip the empty food bowl and it would bonk! back to earth. Bark! Bark! Look at me! Am I not the cutest? This bark was more of a cheerful, happy YIP!
And then there was just the normal bark, bark, bark, bark, please come outside and feed me, rub me, give me water, anything, just let me off this heavy chain for a minute.
During extremely rainy weeks they would chain him on their back porch, mounds of feces piling on the decking.
We endured, we fretted, we filled water and trembling, took it to him.
I never thought to offer to walk him. I can imagine the look I would have gotten if I had.
I admire DS for his ingenuity. It's a tough situation.
The adult son moved out about 6 months ago and Bones was sold to another family shortly thereafter. I hope they are taking care of him.
Good luck.

Biggest Doggone Sweet-Gum Ball You Ever Saw

God has a way of yanking me back to reality when I get a little too cocky.

I remember the day one of my divorces was final. I had been alternately distraught, confused, panic-ridden, lonely, and angry, for the past year. I had to go to my attorney's office to sign something and in return, got the final papers.

I walked out of the office and for some unforeseen reason, I suddenly felt relieved: it's over. There was no turning back. There was no should-we-turn-back, no could-we-turn-back. It was over.

This unexpected lightness of heart was so welcome after months of misery. Years, if you count the last portion of the marriage itself.

I remember I had on a new suit and it was a cold and cloudy day. But my heart was light.

I walked down the sidewalk tap, tap, tapping my umbrella on the sidewalk. Tap, tap. It was a long umbrella with a crook at the top. Tap, tap.

I wasn't watching where I was going. I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing. I didn't know what lay ahead but I knew the divorce was complete and I had a new beginning ahead of me. Chin was up, shoulders were back, and I was walking quickly down the sidewalk. Tap, tap.

Suddenly, the tip of the umbrella caught in the metal grate in the sidewalk and it yanked me into a quick Louie there on the sidewalk. I spent the next 20 seconds or so pulling the umbrella until it ungracefully POPPED! out of the grate.

Without looking around to see who was looking at me, I humbly proceeded. Chin down. Eyes down. Shoulders rounded.

I never forgot it.

It all came back to me on Friday.

On Thursday, the state-wide glossy magazine had sent me a copy of the December issue, in which I have a small article. I had worked Friday morning at the newsroom at the paper, and walked afterward over to the local book store to see if the magazines were available for purchase yet. They were. I got two, one to send to someone special, and one to cut my article from, so it could be scanned for my upcoming website.

The world was my oyster as I walked the five blocks back to the car. It was sunny but horridly cold, with a biting wind. I clutched the magazines to my chest and walked as fast as I could. My mind was racing with possibilities: maybe I could write this for this magazine, or that for that magazine.

Only two blocks from the car, I stepped on the biggest doggone sweet-gum ball you ever saw. My right ankle rolled inward and I flew headlong to the sidewalk. Face-down, I slid along the concrete.

As is so often the case with a fall, my thoughts were amazingly lucid. "Jeez," I thought. "How long am I going to slide?" When I finally stopped moving, I lay there for a moment, face down, and took inventory. Nothing seemed broken. Slowly I got up. I was shaky but whole.

"You okay?" A young man stood at the door to the public library, across the street. "I'm fine," I waved to him as if I were only embarrassed, but in truth I was still badly shaken.

I picked up my magazines, now torn, and hobbled to the car. It wasn't until I got there that I realized I must have dropped my keys. I had to return to the scene and look in the leaves to find them.

I am so lucky not to be hurt. I scraped the tip of my nose; I look a tad like W.C. Fields. My chest was scraped through my silk turtleneck, my thighs scraped through my trousers. Three fingers on my right hand were bent backward and are still swollen, and my ankle is swollen but walkable.

If only I could remember not to get cocky to start with.

Legend of 1900

My DS2 is a movie expert. You name the movie, he can not only tell you who directed what, what reviewers said, and who's in it, he can also tell you if it's worth watching.

We sometimes skype in the mornings. He is 14 hours ahead of me in time, so at 6:30am when I go online to check the news, he is generally on the couch for the evening with his lovely wife. I often click in and say, hi. We usually use the chat feature on skype, rather than using the webcams. I feel more comfortable that way, as the keyboard is a very instinctive way to communicate for me, and I sometimes freeze up face-to-face, even if it is face-to-webcam.

Yesterday we were chatting and I asked for a movie recommendation. He recommended "Legend of 1900." Said there was some outstanding music in it. That was enough for me. It's directed by the same guy who did, "Cinema Paradiso," which I loved, so I checked it out.

I was worried this might be a challenge in our small town. We have a Redbox at the grocery, and while it's a great deal -- 99¢ a night --it only carries recent movies. DS had said he had to go to 4 Blockbusters to find the movie, so I was not optimistic. But I made the rare trip to Blockbuster, just in case. Surprisingly, they had it, and beat the Redbox price, charging me only 99¢ for 5 days.

LO went to the movies last night with her crowd, to see the opening of Twilight, a blog for another day. So, being home alone, DH and I built a fire and cuddled up for the movie.

• The opening dialogue was irresistible.
• The first two scenes totally sucked me in.
• I love the adoptive dad.
• The scenery was compelling.
• The sets were haunting.
• The story was totally unbelievable, but mind you, they SAID the story was unbelievable.

I resented it a tad when the guy was playing his most important piece of music and at that exact moment a breathtakingly lovely girl happened to linger outside the window, so that he made the most beautiful music of his life. There are other coincidences too unlikely to swallow, but I won't spoil the story for you.

Overall, the story will linger over your head like the little cloud that followed Pooh as he went about his day. This movie is unlike any other I've ever seen, and, despite the comedic ironies, I highly recommend it.

Keillor...Again

Oh, I wish I could say, "These are things I was already writing."

I wish I could say, "I write just like this guy."

I even wish I could say, "My thoughts were this articulate, but I had not jotted them down yet."

Aw, I cannot say any of these things. 

All I can do is read him and admire.

Sitting on top of the world

Garrison Keillor

November 12, 2008

 

Be happy, dear hearts, and allow yourselves a few more weeks of quiet exultation. It isn't gloating, it's satisfaction at a job well done. He was a superb candidate, serious, professorial but with a flashing grin and a buoyancy that comes from working out in the gym every morning. He spoke in a genuine voice, not senatorial at all. He relished campaigning. He accepted adulation gracefully. He brandished his sword against his opponents without mocking or belittling them. He was elegant, unaffected, utterly American, and now (Wow) suddenly America is cool. Chicago is cool. Chicago!!!

We threw the dice and we won the jackpot and elected a black guy with a Harvard degree, the middle name Hussein and a sense of humor—he said, "I've got relatives who look like Bernie Mac, and I've got relatives who look like Margaret Thatcher." The French junior minister for human rights said, "On this morning, we all want to be American so we can take a bite of this dream unfolding before our eyes." When was the last time you heard someone from France say they wanted to be American and take a bite of something of ours? Ponder that for a moment.

The world expects us to elect pompous yahoos, and instead we have us a 47-year-old prince from the prairie who cheerfully ran the race, and when his opponents threw sand at him, he just smiled back. He'll be the first president in history to look really good making a jump shot. He loves his classy wife and his sweet little daughters. At the same time, he knows pop music, American lit and constitutional law. I just can't imagine anybody cooler.

It feels good to be cool, and all of us can share in that, even sour old right-wingers and embittered blottoheads. Next time you fly to Heathrow and hand your passport to the man with the badge, he's going to see "United States of America" and look up and grin. Even if you worship in the church of Fox, everyone you meet overseas is going to ask you about Obama, and you may as well say you voted for him because, my friends, he is your line of credit over there. No need anymore to try to look Canadian.

And the coolest thing about him is the fact that back in the early '90s, given a book contract after the hoo-ha about his becoming the First Black Editor of The Harvard Law Review, instead of writing the basic exploitation book he could've written, he put his head down and worked hard for a few years and wrote a good book, an honest one, which, since his rise in politics, has earned the Obamas enough to buy a nice house and put money in the bank. A successful American entrepreneur.

Our hero who galloped to victory has inherited a gigantic mess. The country is sunk in debt. The Treasury announced it must borrow $550 billion to get the government through the fourth quarter, more than the entire deficit for 2008, so he will have to raise taxes and not only on bankers and lumber barons. His promise never to raise the retirement age is not a good idea. Whatever he promised the Iowa farmers about subsidizing ethanol is best forgotten at this point. We may not be getting our National Health Service cards anytime soon. And so on and so on.

So enjoy the afterglow of the election awhile longer. We all walk taller this fall. People in Copenhagen and Stockholm are sending congratulatory e-mails—imagine! We are being admired by Danes and Swedes! And Chicago becomes The First City. Step aside, San Francisco. Shut up, New York. The Midwest is cool now. The mind reels. Have a good day.



Garrison Keillor is a radio host and author.