Category Archives: Journal

This is me rambling about me, mostly. Current stuff: home, family, my head’s on fire… that kind of thing. This also includes everything imported from LiveJournal.

Best typo ever…

From this CNN article about the stumping in Iowa:

The Clinton campaign was distributing hundreds of shovels to help clear the sidewalks of supporters

So… either CNN needs a “for” in place of that “of,” or Hillary is putting Obama supporters to the sharp end of the shovel.

I wonder what the AP photo would look like?

This guy made my day…

So… I’m navigating a Super Target parking lot, my emotions running the gamut from “frustrated” to “astounded” at the amount of traffic bottled up on the way in and out. Parking places weren’t hard to find, and my son and I got a really good one, but the trip back out was proving to be a test of my patience.

I’m waiting to turn left, and the guy on the straightaway I’m trying to get on to rolls down his window, looks me in the eye, and yells “I LOVE YOUR COMIC.” He then points at my license plate to indicate how he figured out who I was.

I couldn’t hear him, because my window was still up, and there were about a million automobile engines idling, revving, roaring, and/or seizing up within earshot. I smiled, mouthed “THANK YOU” and gave him a thumbs up.

Yeah, this pretty much made my day. I think it’s the first time I’ve been noticed on the road by a complete stranger.

Scent Memory

Twice this morning I was called up in remembrance of my grandmother’s house in Maryland.

The first scent is one that triggers the memories often — the smell you get from a puff of un-ignited natural gas from the stove. Her stove was the first gas stove I had ever seen, and the smell of natural gas (or rather the smell of mercaptan and other additives) always reminds me of her kitchen. Even after almost fifteen years of cooking with gas myself, that smell still sets me off.

The second is “day-old fireplace.” We had a nice, cozy fire in our enclosed fire stove yesterday evening, and this morning there’s a smell coming from that end of the living room that reminds me of grandmother’s house during winter. It’s not the smoky smell — any residual smoke has been cleared out by the air filter I bought last winter. It’s kind of a wet ash smell that you can only pick up right at the fireplace.

Regardless of the source of the smells, the remembering was nice. Grandma has passed on, and that house was sold long ago, but I still have fresh memories right here… in my nose.