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How To Say Thank You

bobs-big-boy

We didn’t eat out much when I was a kid.

As child I thought that this was because we didn’t have a lot of money but as an adult I have been informed that I was fairly hyperactive, especially in new environments.

When we did visit a restaurant it was usually on a Sunday night, and it was most often a Bob’s Big Boy.  I was always warned that we wouldn’t come back if I didn’t behave properly.

This type of risk/reward scenario did help me behave appropriately, even if it was only for a Sunday night.

While I always appreciated going to eat at Bob’s Big Boy, mostly because of the Hot Fudge Cake, I could never seem to beat my brother to the punch when it came to expressing gratefulness.

See my older brother was the master of the “Thank You”.

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Buying the Meatballs

Meatball

Before I got married I had two pieces of furniture: a rollaway bed and a dresser.  After I got married my wife decided that we needed furnishings.  I agreed with her, mostly because we could’ve played racquetball in our apartment.

The only problem with my wife’s idea is that we were poor, youth pastor of 20 kids poor.

My wife’s plan to overcome this was to drive three hours north of Portland to what was then the only Ikea store in the Northwest.  Since I had never been to an Ikea, this sounded like a great idea.

We borrowed a van and left the house at 6 AM.

We got home at 10 PM.

We were out of the house for 16 hours.

If you do the math you become painfully aware that that day I spent 10 hours wandering through carefully staged, scenario presentations of products named Lack and Gronkulla.

While we did manage to outfit our tiny home for less than $400, I have to admit that we played right into the cleverly designed post-American master planning of our Scandinavian lifestyle consultants…

We bought the meatballs.

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Bewitching or Bewildering?

 

Photo: Wicked Productions

A few years back, something that I’m not entirely comfortable with seems to have happened to Halloween.

I’m going to guess somewhere around the year 1998, or as I call it, “the bitter end of the Baywatch Era”, it became completely unacceptable for a woman to attend a costume party dressed as the wholesome version of anything.

It used to be that there were just a few brazen “Halloween Cliches” to avoid at a masquerade, but it appears that now pirate, superhero, and “educational professional” have also been claimed by the fashion designers who brought us The Mistress of the Dark.

It’s almost impossible to find a witch costume that Glinda would be ok with.

I understand that each of us has a choice about how we celebrate on All Hallows Eve, and there are some ladies out there who like to show up at the office party dressed as a provocateur, but can the rest of us please resist the urge to accompany our kids on their Trick-or-Treat outing in these kinds of costumes?

It’s super uncomfortable to open your front door, distribute candy to the neighbor kid, and then wave goodbye to a mother dressed as Catwoman at the end of your driveway.

Ladies, when we bump into you at the neighborhood mailbox won’t it be really awkward if the last time we saw you, you were dressed as a Pirate Wench?

I know we’re supposed to act like it’s no big deal that you have decided to step out in a lacy Ninja Turtle Costume with knee-length boots, but didn’t you put that costume on to get attention?

Trust me, it’s the kind of attention that your kids, your spouse, and the other wives are embarrassed about you chasing.

So maybe wear something like that for the person who is supposed to be giving you that kind of attention, and give everybody else a break.

We don’t need to have a tainted mental image of you… or Wilma Flintstone.

I’m not saying that Halloween means you should be dowdy or frumpy.

I’m encouraging you to dress up and stay beautiful, not undress to get looks.

Remember that true beauty is always the result of substance, not skin.

People have more respect for Elphaba than they do Elvira.

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