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Dear Cucumbers:
Last night I sliced one of you for the sole purpose of using you as a cracker. It was amazing. You make an amazing delivery platform for cheese. Have you considered marketing yourselves along these lines?
Think about it. Everyone know's that you're great in sandwiches, or with dip, and some even like you plain, or with a bit of fresh ground salt and pepper. But as a substitute for crackers? That is revolutionary.
Why were you not on billboards when everyone was crazy with Atkins fever? A carb free cracker? Some would think no such thing exists. Oh, but they would be wrong. You, my long english friend, make for excellent crackers.
Or were you hoping to keep that a secret?
Regardless, I suggest a marketing campaign with the slogan: "The New Cracker!"
Think about it.
Stay tasty Cucumbers, stay tasty.
Showing posts with label house. Show all posts
Showing posts with label house. Show all posts
Woodpecker on a hot tin chimney -- A rant
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Please don't misinterpret this because I do love nature. I love being in the woods, as long as I'm with a group because cougars find me tasty, and I go hiking and exploring whenever I can. I love and appreciate animals.
This is simply venting directed at one woodpecker who has lost his way. The sad thing is that he and I will never be able to properly communicate about this. He'll never read this and I have no idea how to get through to him.
Here's the thing: this morning, as with many mornings this spring, I've been awoken by a woodpecker in search of friends, or perhaps just one special friend, I think it's safe to say he's "lost that lovin' feeling." His method of date arranging seems to be loud knocking on the chimney of our house. The audio is also projected down the metal pipe and fills or house with a glorious string of "d-d-d-d-d-d-d-dat, d-d-d-d-d-d-d-dat, d-d-d-d-d-d-d-dat" at 6:15 it's far from welcome. Is there an e-harmony for woodpeckers? Perhaps he should try that.
I do not wish to seem opposed to this flighted woodland creature, but I would love to be able to sleep at least until 7am when the bulldozer in need of lubrication starts it's diesel engine and begins squeaking around the adjacent lot. As I type this there is either an low grade seven hour long earthquake happening or it's just another day on the job site for captain squeaky machines.
Sometimes I want to stand on my deck and yell: "You missed a spot!" But then I fear another week of work, and I refrain.
Neither way is a particularly enjoyable way to wake up, and I do hope the woodpecker finds someone, if for no other reason than an extra few minutes of peaceful sleep.
Second Night
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Last night marked the second night in our home.
It’s been an interesting move in experience. Mostly good, but we found a few eye brow raisers in the process.
When I walked into our new home for the first time, full of anticipation, I expected to find certain things: an empty house being one of them.
I didn’t expect to find piles of dirt on the floor, clothes in the closet, random grapes scattered here and there, and imperfections everywhere a piece of furniture used to be: especially, when the family had been doing renovations. And they only painted what could be seen.
I have two possibly hypotheses:
1) Everything they learned they learned by watching the Mr. Bean show. So, when it came to learning how to paint they wanted to replicate his painting techniques. Those involved papering anything you didn’t want paint on and blowing up a can of paint in the middle of the room. Walls on the other side of the couch would not have been painted.
2) They treat their house the way so many of us run our live our lives. Why paint behind the book shelve? No one will ever see back there. It doesn’t need to look nice. The base boards behind the couch don’t need to be painted. We don’t even need them behind the kid’s beds. Let’s just take care of the parts people see. Why deal with my tendency to judge people? No one ever sees that. And why should it matter what I think? No one ever sees my thoughts.
How often do we only worry about how we look on the outside and let our insides fall apart?
Sadly, I do this all the time. I invest in clothes, shoes, haircuts, grooming products so that my physical appearance looks as best it can. I also spend ridiculous amounts of time watching what I say so that I don’t say something that makes me look dumb. However, I spend considerably less time on the areas that no one sees.
Maybe that’s the issue. I think no one sees them. I forget, or maybe don’t care so much, that God sees them. Sometimes, I even find myself thinking God’s as okay with it as I am: that it doesn’t matter to God how well maintained I am.
But God not only sees, He knows, all of me. He’s inspected the insulation in the attic. He’s checked the foundation for cracks. Every inch of wiring has run before His eyes. He does a far more thorough job then the house inspector we paid to check this house out.
No doubt I need to be working on the “hidden” areas. We can only hide flaws behind couches for so long. Eventually, more and more will deteriorate. I better fix things up before the house falls apart, so that this temple isn’t one day a pile of ruins.
It’s been an interesting move in experience. Mostly good, but we found a few eye brow raisers in the process.
When I walked into our new home for the first time, full of anticipation, I expected to find certain things: an empty house being one of them.
I didn’t expect to find piles of dirt on the floor, clothes in the closet, random grapes scattered here and there, and imperfections everywhere a piece of furniture used to be: especially, when the family had been doing renovations. And they only painted what could be seen.
I have two possibly hypotheses:
1) Everything they learned they learned by watching the Mr. Bean show. So, when it came to learning how to paint they wanted to replicate his painting techniques. Those involved papering anything you didn’t want paint on and blowing up a can of paint in the middle of the room. Walls on the other side of the couch would not have been painted.
2) They treat their house the way so many of us run our live our lives. Why paint behind the book shelve? No one will ever see back there. It doesn’t need to look nice. The base boards behind the couch don’t need to be painted. We don’t even need them behind the kid’s beds. Let’s just take care of the parts people see. Why deal with my tendency to judge people? No one ever sees that. And why should it matter what I think? No one ever sees my thoughts.
How often do we only worry about how we look on the outside and let our insides fall apart?
Sadly, I do this all the time. I invest in clothes, shoes, haircuts, grooming products so that my physical appearance looks as best it can. I also spend ridiculous amounts of time watching what I say so that I don’t say something that makes me look dumb. However, I spend considerably less time on the areas that no one sees.
Maybe that’s the issue. I think no one sees them. I forget, or maybe don’t care so much, that God sees them. Sometimes, I even find myself thinking God’s as okay with it as I am: that it doesn’t matter to God how well maintained I am.
But God not only sees, He knows, all of me. He’s inspected the insulation in the attic. He’s checked the foundation for cracks. Every inch of wiring has run before His eyes. He does a far more thorough job then the house inspector we paid to check this house out.
No doubt I need to be working on the “hidden” areas. We can only hide flaws behind couches for so long. Eventually, more and more will deteriorate. I better fix things up before the house falls apart, so that this temple isn’t one day a pile of ruins.
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