Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

My parents are cleaning out closets with a ferocity that would dwarf  Peter Dinklage . Mostly that means they are easily distracted by items someone socked away sixty years ago.  I am closely monitoring their endeavors.   My mom had pretty good handwriting for a ten year old. She lacked in the politeness category, however. The infamous "Nubian Princesses." I have known these statues existed my whole life but have never actually seen them before. Their provenance is a complete mystery. I am closely monitoring the composting, or lack thereof, of these allegedly "compostable scouring pads." Check out the evidence I dug up below. I buried them outside months ago. I will continue to shovel these up periodically to assess, but I have my strong doubts. Probably not actually compostable "Walnut Shell" scouring pads I buried months ago. I am actively contemplating a situation that emerged when I purchased two luggage racks on Amazo

This post is my version of 5-Bullet Friday , but without nearly as much reflection and also with an ulterior motive. If you buy anything on this list, kindly report back. I'm on an investigative mission. I have had an Amazon reseller account for going on a decade and have yet to earn a single solitary shekel from Bezos. The process is rigged, I tell you. Like if someone clicks through on a blog link, but buys the item in a different size or color or model, all bets are off and no soup for you, blogger person. In the good news department, I personally have other methods to earn my soup. However, and this is important: Tom and I are engaged in a fierce battle to see who can earn more money on the internet. Tom used to win every year back when YouTube was fair, but in 2019 I might be ahead. I've raked in almost $16 so far and it's only July. My biggest money maker continues to be the Cher post . It's the gift that keeps on giving in the RPM department. Anyway, onwa

Tom and I boarded the airplane and sat down in our seats.  We were bound for Oregon to spend 4th of July with Helen and Matt at Darcey and Kent's house in Eugene. I fastened the seatbelt and stowed my crap under the seat. At some point, it became evident that the young woman seated on my right was singing softly. Some kind of Christian uptempo number. Then she started talking to herself, mostly narrating the entire process of downloading the United App, remembering her frequent flyer number and signing up for inflight wifi.  The quiet talking and occasional musical interlude continued the entire flight. Later on, when we mentioned this to Kent, he said, “She’s probably from Eugene.” Speaking of the travel portion of our vacation, I’d be remiss if I failed to mention how I had been pulled aside by a TSA agent at the security checkpoint. It was because of a ziplock full of lentils. The agent hoisted the lentils into the light and peered at them intently. Then he turned to me