Hi, friends. Y’all doing OK?
I know this has been a tough run of late. But we are all in this together. Except, you know, not, like, close together.
I’m not going to give you any great insight on how we are all gonna power through this. Because I’m no wiser than anyone else on the planet, and let’s be honest – the wisest people on the planet are all kinda figuring this out as we go. Because these are unprecedented times. But I did want to perhaps offer you some distraction action to get you through your quarantine.
We may be late to the party, but we have finally joined the Instant Pot club.
I know that plenty of folks are waaaay ahead of us on this front. But we were … busy … or something.
For those of you non familiar with Instant Pot, it’s a brand of pressure cooker. There may be others, but that’s the only one I can tell you off the top of my head. Also, I used to think it was called Insta Pot, but I guess I was shortening it because that’s what we cool kids do.
Those of you who have read my column for a while know that one of my recurring themes is my loathing of rogue shopping carts left in parking lots.
And I appreciate all that you have done to help stem the tide of this menace. And while the battle against non-returned shopping carts is not yet won, it is clear we have the high ground. We are legion, and we are going to eventually get every used shopping cart to its proper home.
I need jeans. And I’m not looking forward to this journey.
I have one pair of jeans I normally wear – one trusty pair, and they have served their time. I actually have a second pair of jeans, but they are the rattiest things you have ever seen, and are reserved for yard work and such.
I received an email the other day from a company I have a subscription with. The subject line was “Payment Declined.”
Like many of our bills, this one is on autopay, so it just gets processed each month. The subject line told me fairly clearly that this one did not get processed.
Things I will never truly understand:
- How film cameras work.
- Why the other people in my house can’t put shoes back where they belong.
- Why people don’t merge when the gigantor digital sign spanning the interstate very clear says, “Left lane closed ahead ½ mile. Merge right.”
You have two choices in life. You can be Allie, or you can be let’s call her Sally.
This Allie is not my daughter Allie, although being her can also have benefits, such as spontaneously bursting into song or finding joy in the littlest things in life, such as texting me excitedly about seeing the latest Wonder Woman trailer.
I had never been hunting in my life until last weekend.
I have nothing against hunting. I know plenty of folks who do it, and I have often enjoyed what they have brought back. It’s just not my thing.
I have made no secret over the years that I don’t know much about cars.
I mean, I can do the basics, such as jump start a car or change a flat tire. But when it comes to most things under the hood, beyond refilling wiper fluid, I’m pretty much worthless.
While I have not been in college for decades, I remember vividly the college days, in particular that my gas tank and refrigerator were usually very close to empty.
And I remember when my folks would visit, and those problems would go away, as parents visiting you at college are oftentimes emergency relief funds.