PSH’s alma mater. (at Fairport High School)
You know it’s going to be a rough day at work when you send this gif as a reply to an email to your entire department.
A few more scenes from the second day of our drive down Highway 1 (details in the photo captions.).
Following the sunset, we continued driving deeper into Big Sur as darkness enveloped the coastline. With fading energy, we pulled into the Big Sur Taphouse to pause for a snack and some WiFi. The microwaved pizza was abysmal, but the atmosphere was inviting and comfortable. We decided to try to press on and drive through Big Sur overnight, but about 20 minutes later - when we passed a deer on the right side of the road (between us and a cliff-face to the ocean) - we agreed it would be safer to simply pull off and sleep in the car, which we did. The pizza was smelling up the car, so I placed the box outside underneath and we closed our eyes. I woke in the middle of the night to see the moon setting into the Pacific and I watched it quietly while Heather slept beside me. When the light of a new day had grown bright enough to wake us, we got out to stretch. I looked under the car but the pizza box had been blown straight across the expanse of gravel to the edge of the cliff where we had just answered nature’s call; it narrowly missed an unfortunate repurposing as a toilet. I walked over and picked a “flower” from one of the countless dry-but-beautiful brushes that we’d driven past. Back in the car we continued southbound, a bright new day rising in front of us with each turn along the edge of the continent. (at Big Sur)
A special wish of love and secret luck later this week from Chuckie for Steve.
I’ll always remember Chuckie because he always brought me so much joy from so far away.
I hope wherever he is now, he’s got a fine selection of crazy balls to choose from.
Much love to Cary and Duff and Fuzz today. We love you.
Driveway: 1 - Mini: 0
We made this a few days ago and it is excellent. We accidentally left the Tabasco out of the pot… but it might be better that way because 1 tsp is definitely not enough and this way each person can add it directly to their own bowl. We topped ours with crumbled queso fresco cheese, which adds perfect little pops of salty flavor to balance the sweet potato chunks. The quinoa provides such a great texture and a nice departure from typically meaty chili.
Results: Dogs preferred to excrete with the body being aligned along the North-south axis under calm MF conditions.
In case you ever wondered if there’s scientific reason behind a dog’s pooping stance preference.
Now I wish my toilet could freely rotate around its vertical axis. Damn.
Another Window Into Our Life
Sunday afternoon on the couch, watching the announcement of the 2014 USA Men’s Hockey Olympic Roster
Heather (without her eyeglasses): BB? Why do they all look like they’re 12?
Me: Because they are.
Go get my album for FREE now if you want.
This is one of my favorite albums of the past few years. It’s well worth the effort to click that link and download.
Saturday morning at the breakfast table.
Me: *big sad sigh*
Heather: What’s wrong, BB?
Me: They call me “Mr. Boombastic.” :-(
Heather: Who does?!
BEWARE! Tis the season for this bullshit.
I just got this phishing scam email.
NEVER CLICK THE LINKS IN THESE MESSAGES. IF YOU DO, DON’T YOU DARE ENTER YOUR APPLE ID AND PASSWORD.
I predict hundreds of thousands of people will be fooled into voluntarily giving up their info.
It doesn’t take a genius to realize the language in that message is not professionally written. Copying and pasting the “Verify Now” link makes it obvious that it’s not directing you to Apple.
If you have any concerns about your Apple ID, the only correct and legit URL to visit is: http://appleid.apple.com.
Be safe out there. People are assholes.
You sad imitation of a Blizzard.
Already half-melted before you were extruded into life.
Your mixing spoon; both utensil and tool.
Not long enough to reach the bottom. Not strong enough to mix anything.
Your attempt at a soft-serve treat pales in comparison to DQ.
But, your futility become an unintended treasure chest of flavor.
A pump of caramel. A dump of candy.
All waiting at the bottom unmixed.
The petty anger of the worker not taking pride in their work.
The self-hatred for getting a knowingly substandard dairy treat.
Rich gooey ribbons of melted and browned sugar now frozen and clumping at the bottom like a prize.
Christ, my teeth hurt.