Before ordinary football commercials are left in the dust by the super-expensive, super-hyped Super Bowl ones, I want to comment on one commercial I absolutely despise. Watching a lot of football (as we do in this house), week after week I have seen some really irritating ads. For most of the season the Verizon ones were top-of-the-pile irritating. Until this Volkswagon one came around. (more…)
Depending on what century your mind lives in, today, February 2, is either Groundhog Day or Candlemas.
Two inches of wet snow fell last night and the temperature is supposed to plummet as the day goes on. Ergo that two inches of snow would turn to concrete if it not removed pretty darn speedy pronto quick. Rats.
As The Hunter and I cleared the driveway, the sky was gray – going from a deeper gray in the southeast to a lighter gray, almost luminous, in the northwest. The clouds were more like fog than clouds, and there were no shadows, or color for that matter – anywhere on the ground. We were working away in an Ansel Adams photograph. (more…)
You would think that a large corporation like CVS with, one assumes, a fair amount of resources and money to spend on advertising, could find someone who actually knows how to use variable data intelligently.
Instead they hire someone who sends out this. (more…)
A “Jonah Day” is called a Jonah Day because of Jonah in the Old Testament. To recap: Jonah refused to do what God wanted (go east to Nineveh to preach repentance.) Instead he rushed onto the first ship could find heading west. (more…)
Or I Can’t Believe This Moo Book Was Actually Published.
The young Moose, at 18 months, likes to read his books. At the moment he is a big fan of anything by Sandra Boynton, Chugga Chugga Choo Choo by Kevin Lewis and Who Goes Moo?, a touch and feel book published by Make Believe Ideas, Ltd., with no author credited. Probably they were too embarrassed by the final product to admit it came from anyone on their staff. (more…)
The most fantastic strawberry preserves I’ve ever eaten were made by Mrs. W, my best friend’s mother. This was a long time ago. I was perhaps ten. Since then I’ve tasted other homemade strawberry preserves and countless brands of commercial ones. None of them matched Mrs. W’s with what I call that burst of early summer morning flavor – until yesterday. (more…)
When I first thought about writing this blog, the working title was Letters at Breakfast. I love letters – both writing them and receiving them. Lagging behind the curve as I do, I’m not sure if anyone else even thinks about letters. The world’s attention span seems to be 140 characters, and I get the impression that a letter in a stamped envelope may be rarer than a double blue super moon in a leap year with five Friday the thirteenths.
Ages ago when I was young (even before the idea of email; before Mark Zuckerberg was born; before texts, and Snap this and Instant that), letters in the mailbox were not all that plentiful. Still, they came along from time to time, and I could maintain a bit of hope. (more…)
Recently The Son, who has always been independent minded, posted a picture of himself and The Moose. The Moose was dressed in a Yankee’s shirt and there was an immediate outcry because of all the teams the immediate and extended family supports – the Red Sox, the Nats, the Giants, the Cubs, the Mets, the Twins – the Yankees are not among them. (more…)
In Memory of JANE AUSTEN, youngest daughter of the late Revd GEORGE AUSTEN, formerly Rector of Steventon in this County. She departed this Life on the 18th of July 1817, aged 41, after a long illness supported with the patience and the hopes of a Christian. The benevolence of her heart, the sweetness of her temper, and the extraordinary endowments of her mind obtained the regard of all who knew her and the warmest love of her intimate connections. Their grief is in proportion to their affection, they know their loss to be irreparable, but in their deepest affliction they are consoled by a firm though humble hope that her charity, devotion, faith and purity have rendered her soul acceptable in the sight of her REDEEMER. (Jane Austen’s epitaph in Winchester Cathedral)
Jane Austen died 200 years ago today. Much has already been written about her and so much more is pouring forth in commemoration of this anniversary. A great deal of it is complete nonsense and utter rot. (more…)
The pressure to have a perfect house and perfect garden and perfect children used to arrive only once a month or so with the home or food or gardening or parenting magazines.
The beauty of these old-style guilt trips was that they were eminently ignorable and small-scale. Only a few “perfect” families or houses or gardens were on display each month. And when you tossed the magazine, you were done with them. (more…)