In my eagerness to commemorate Andrew’s birthday yesterday, I forgot that the day before was also worthy of celebration. It was National Potato Chip Day. Then I learned from Glenda’s blog that it was also National Pi Day. Clever, that one. 3.14.
I’m marking them on the calendar for next year. I am not sure how I will commemorate the Pi part, but the potato chip celebration is a no-brainer.
I have already e-mailed this photo to most of the friends and family who have watched this creation from its inception, through its birthpangs to the final delivery. This was Ernie's chef-d'oeuvre of the summer and my pride and joy. I had always wanted an arbor to lead from the main garden through to the vegetable garden and Ernie designed, made and erected this beauty. The project involved digging down the existing paths and carting over four tons of the white crushed rock you see there. That's a purple clematis to the left and with any luck it will grow up next summer to crown the arbor.
I think a tasteful champagne launch is in order.
I began thinking about the concept of luxury after reading a recent post by Lady Bracknell. Here’s her conclusion: She has reached the decision just this afternoon that the ultimate in sybaritism and luxury would be to be able to afford to put on a brand new pair of pyjamas every day, fresh from the packet, and complete with those creases down the sleeves which can never be replicated when dashing away with a smoothing iron at a later date. Nothing can compare with the tactile pleasure of fresh, new cotton jersey against the skin.
I think this must be a fairly common theme. For Ed O’Neill, my chairman at USC, it was a new pair of socks every day. New clothes don’t appeal to me at all: they are often scritchy scratchy and stiff, no match for soft, translucent garments smelling faintly of fabric softener. For luxury, I have to look elsewhere.
I set down some ground rules for my definition of luxury. My choice has to be something faintly possible, but most unlikely. That rules out two items I talk of wistfully. One is an endless supply of postage stamps of all denominations and designs. Given a little advanced planning and some careful budgeting, I could probably achieve an approximation of that goal. My second, rather modest, desire concerns bubble bath. I know it exists in this country, but Grosse Pointe is not the epicenter of bath products. I scoured CVS and (although they now appear to sell some Boots products on-line) all I could come up with in the way of bubble bath featured a picture of Curious George wearing a sombrero. Again, meticulous detective work will allow me to find a source and bubble bath will cease to fall into the luxury category.
Eureka! This is the time of year when I like to get up early and enjoy the quiet and cool of the morning. I read the paper and drink copious amounts of coffee. I take my blood pressure medicine, squeeze into my gardening shoes and go outside to work. It usually isn’t long before the coffee and the pills (the diuretic kind) work their way through my system with the obvious result. I wait way too long to go through the annoying process of removing my gardening shoes and going back inside. So my idea of luxury? An outside privy! This rendering by Martha Hinson shows how adorable it could look in the corner of the yard. I wonder whether I need a bulding permit?
I’m still wading through the blogs I discovered in the nominations for the 2007 bloggies awards, and I have found a couple of gems. I think, though, that a couple of my long-time favorites should be acknowledged. Lady Bracknell (see sidebar) took time out from her rant against the world of IT to bring to the attention of her readers a section of the 10 Downing Street web site that allows the public to initiate petitions to Tony Blair. I didn’t even realize there was a 10 Downing Street website. Naturally, this caused me to Google 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., but I don’t see where I can enter a petition. Anyway, these petitions are worth reading, especially when the spelling is correct.
A Circle of Quiet (also found in the sidebar) reminded me of days spent in the library. Remember these?
If you are as nostalgic as I am, you can create your own thanks to John Blyberg. Something good comes out of Ann Arbor!
Once in a while, someone comes up with an idea which is so right that you can't imagine why no-one ever thought of it before.
I give you—the glass jar of anchovies.
Making pizza with anchovies has always meant tugging on that ring on the anchovy can that peels back half of the top. It peels back with a jerk, and even if you are lucky enough to retain all your fingers, they are always covered in smelly olive oil. Once you have achieved an opening, you realise it is not big enough to actually pry out a whole anchovy, so you have to dig around with some implement. And if you manage to get that far and find you have some anchovies left to save for the next pizza, you are faced with the problem of how to wrap up the remainder. In the tin? In a baggie? Whatever you decide to use, it is so small that it gets pushed to the back of the shelf, only to emerge in a petrified state six months later.
Is there a Nobel prize for small inventions?
