Margo's Eggs (sorta)

A couple of weeks ago - the PopTarts week - my post was almost entirely video. So I'm balancing that out with this old-school post, which has no video. But it's a REALLY good recipe, so I'd recommend reading it, anyway. 

Crispy edges, chunks of bacon, cheese, and a creamy top layer. Yum!

Here's a catch, though: I also don't have any of the prep photos, because I was doing some emotional cooking and only remembered to take photos when it was done. So you'll also have to trust me that it's one of the easiest things you'll ever make for brunch (or whenever you decide to eat it). 

Basically what you're making is a savory bread pudding crossed with a Midwestern casserole (I grew up in South Dakota, so at the point this entered my life I still talked of "casseroles" instead of the Minnesotan "hot dish"). It has an incredibly basic custard (milk and eggs), stale bread, some kind of meat and cheese, and a can of cream of something soup. 

Seriously - what's not to love? 

Because there's no video, I'm jumping straight into the recipe. For my usual ramblings, please see the Q&A section below the recipe. 

Margo's Eggs

The ingredient list is pretty straightforward: 

8 slices of bread (something sturdy and/or stale works best)

2 1/2 cups shredded Cheddar cheese

1 pound of bacon, browned and drained

7 eggs

2 3/4 cups milk (dual usage)

1 tsp dry mustard (or 1 tbsp brown mustard)

1 can Cream of Mushroom soup (in the original, but Cream of Chicken is great - any "Cream of..." that you think goes with cheese and bacon would work)

Butter/Margarine/Cooking spray to grease the pan

**This is, technically, for a 9"x13" pan. But it kind of depends on the size of your slices of bread. The pan in the photo (below) is, I believe, 10"x10". My mom has always made it in a shallow lasagna pan - about 10"x15" (maybe) - and if you do it in that, you'd want to use 1.5x the recipe. 

Here's how I make this:

Note: Start this the night before you want to eat it (because it should sit in the fridge overnight before baking)

1. Brown the bacon until fairly crisp (I typically use kitchen shears to cut the strips of bacon into 1-inch pieces before cooking, but you could also just cook the strips and then crumble them after they cool)

2. While the bacon is cooking, grease a 9x13 baking dish

3. In between checks on the bacon, tear up the bread into "large bite-size" pieces and throw them in the greased pan

4. Add the shredded cheese to the pan and mix with the bread

5. Hopefully by this time (it times out pretty well if you're also hand-shredding the cheese, etc.) the bacon will be done, and you can add the bite-size pieces of bacon to the pan and mix it all together

6. In a bowl, combine the eggs, mustard, and 2 1/4 cups of the milk

7. Pour the milk/egg/mustard mixture over the bread (etc.) in the pan

     (Honestly, at this point, I go in with my hands and moosh it all around. The idea is that you want the bread to soak up as much of the liquid as possible, so you move it around and push it down a bit into the liquid.)

8. In the (now empty) bowl, combine the can of soup with the remaining 1/2 cup of milk

9. Spread the soup mixture over the mix in the pan

10. Cover and refrigerate overnight (about 8 hours)

11. Preheat oven to 350 degrees

12. Bake (uncovered) for an hour (it should be pretty well "set" before you take it out)

13. Remove from the oven and let stand for about 5 minutes to finish setting up 

14. Serve (and realize some people will fight over the crispy bits around the edges)

If any of it doesn't get eaten right away, it refrigerates and reheats really well. 

Christopher wasn't around for this one, so we went old school with Cream of Mushroom.

And now to some of the questions I'm sure you probably have: 

Can I substitute other breakfast meats? 

Yes. This is a really forgiving recipe. Just try to keep the proportions the same and drain the meat before using it. Ham is an easy swap-out. Peppered bacon adds a nice bite. Sausage works. I'm sure Chorizo would be good - as would numerous non-meat products. 

What soups have you used?

The original recipe for this was always Cream of Mushroom, but then I met Christopher - who is allergic to mushrooms. So I stared for a while at the Campbell's soup rack in the grocery store and decided to go with Cream of Chicken (for the whole chicken/egg thing). I think Cream of Potato would be really good. I'm not a huge fan of Cream of Celery or Cream of Asparagus - but they might work if you like them. 

Why is it called "Margo's Eggs"? Who is Margo? Why was it an "emotional bake"? 

Alright... you knew there had to be a backstory. And I waited as long as I could to include it. 

When I was growing up, Margo and Curt were two of my parents' best friends in my home town. Curt was the town dentist (my dad was the pharmacist), and so when they moved to town it was a good match. And, sometime along the way, Margo made this casserole and served it and Mom got the recipe from her. 

It has been served every year at Christmas and at almost every family reunion. And I have served it at (I believe) every brunch I've ever hosted. And they are always "Margo's Eggs." People who never met Margo know that they're Margo's Eggs and ask me whether they'll be served at the next brunch. I've emailed the recipe for Margo's Eggs to people on both coasts at different times. They have always been - and will always be - Margo's Eggs. 

The funny thing is that Margo apparently never really made Margo's Eggs that often. When Margo and Curt came for brunch at Mom and Dad's a few years ago, she asked where Mom had gotten the recipe. Apparently they weren't a staple in their house - and when she did make them, she almost never used Cream of Mushroom soup (she opted for Cream of Chicken). She thought it was kind of ridiculous that we called them "Margo's Eggs." But... there we are. 

I made the batch of Margo's Eggs in these photos last April. I was home with my parents to spend some time with them because Margo had passed away earlier in the month. And in trying to be cautious about gatherings, there could be no funeral for a best friend. So I came home and we talked about Margo and ate the dish that we'll always think of as hers. 

It's not really enough information to understand how amazing she was, how infectious her laugh was, and how much she is missed - but you can learn more about her here: https://okfhc.com/tribute/details/1661/Margo-Johnson/obituary.html

The world is kind of crazy right now, and it's nearly impossible to share things in person. I can't even remember the last time Christopher and I hosted a brunch - and I really miss that kind of social interaction gathering. But I know that, as soon as we can safely gather in the house, Margo's Eggs will be on the table for brunch. 

And I doubt there will be any leftovers.

----

How're you doing these days? Are there any foods that are helping you to get through it all - or any plans for "after all this" that you're keeping your eye on? I hope you're well and taking care of yourself and those you love.

Writing a Milestone (sorry - no food this week)

Sometimes, even I lose the words to say what I want to say. So, this week, we're getting a fully text blog post, with no video.

A week ago, my friend Steve was in town, and he and I had a great time running around and seeing the sights and eating (a lot) and laughing (a lot) and just enjoying each other's company. It was fun to watch Steve and Christopher get to know more about each other, considering that Steve and I have probably known each other for about 23 years, but they've only spent a few days together.

Sidenote: Should that construction be "to watch he and Christopher get to know..." or "to watch him and Christopher get to know..."? Honestly, I wrote it about 5 times and I'm still not sure, which is why I'm using an actual first name - even though I almost never do that. Blame the grammarian in me.

But, on one of the nights, the two of us were driving through downtown Minneapolis and I said "That's where my old French teacher used to live." Of course, he responded with "Did she move?" And I had to say, "No, she died."

If you know the two of us, you know that that was both slightly uncomfortable and a little sad - but also kind of stupidly funny. The out-of-the-blue unintended dark humor punchline.

For some reason, that same kind of thing happened a few different times during the long weekend.

"How's your old roommate?" "She died a few years ago - but at least she's not sleeping on the couch in the middle of the day any more."

"Oh, did I ever tell you about my friend?" (Spoiler alert: by the end of the story he may have been dead. Or possibly on the lam. Honest. Being on the lam is actually one of the possible outcomes to the story.)

But Steve left on Monday, and we settled back into normal life. (Don't worry - Steve's fine. This isn't that kind of blog post.)

And yet, on Wednesday, I had to deal with a different kind of personal memory. One that makes me sad, but also makes me laugh, smile, and ponder a lot of "what if...?" situations.

As some of you may know, my brother died of acute myeloid leukemia when he was 16 - back in 1975. I was 8 at the time, and he had just finished his junior year of high school.

Christmas photo from 1974 (my apologies to my sisters, whom I cropped out for their own privacy) - Yes, that's me on the left, before glasses and facial hair -- and braces.

I have really random memories of him - many of which are connected to photos I've seen, because when you're eight years old you don't go around looking at people and things and thinking "I need to pay attention because in 43 years I'm going to want to remember this."

He was tall (and not just because I was 8 - he was somewhere around 6'4" at 16). Thin and naturally athletic - fit. And he tanned after about 5 minutes in the sun in the spring and stayed that way until October. The kind of tan that bleaches your hair and makes you kind of all one color. I still envy that - even in the age of sunscreen and pallor.

He was musical. And smart. He liked to cook. He had a thing for Olivia Newton-John. (It may be a good thing that he wasn't around for the "Physical" years.)

Oddly enough, though he was around all the time while I was growing up, I really don't know much else about him.

I remember that he had great clothes - but it was the early 70s, so the bar was low. And I don't know if I remember - or just assume - that he had a wicked sense of humor. (And, yes, I sometimes have one-sided conversations with him when things go all catty-wampus and it seems like someone with a wicked sense of humor must have had a hand in it.)

About 10 years ago, I wanted to put something together to kind of memorialize him, but couldn't figure out what to do with it. Even so, I got some very heartfelt messages from people who knew him. They all said the same kind of thing: He was one of the cool kids. The popular crowd. But he made everyone around him feel like they belonged. He was easy to be around - something that seems like it should be easy for all of us to do, but somehow isn't.

There are a lot of things that have happened in the past 43 years that I've kind of assumed he's been around for - somehow.

But he never met Christopher. And I think they would really like each other.

To this day, I still think of him as my slightly protective big brother, the one I look to for validation - even though I'm more than 3 times as old as he ever was. In my mind, he is still 16 - tall and tan with an open smile - yet somehow always older than me.

Wednesday, August 1st, was his 60th birthday.

Writing Good Copy for Mediocre Books

One of the pieces of my job that I typically really like to do is writing back cover copy for books. I think, in part, it's because I get to battle the "Don't judge a book by its cover" aphorism by truly asking people to judge books by their covers.

Most of the time, writing them is pretty decent. I sit down, I read the book, I look at the marketing plans the authors have proposed, and I write about a page of copy for them to use. About 75% of the time, they use about 75% of my copy. About 20% of the time they dump it entirely and put up something of their own. The remaining 5% - if I'm lucky - they actually use what I've written in its entirety.

(Ironically - though most authors don't know this - I actually proofread their covers before they go to print. So I see what they've done to what I've written. Sometimes it's interesting to see what they think the point of the book is. Sometimes it's really well done. Sometimes it's just not good...)

As I've said, most of the time this part of my job is pretty decent. When it's not decent is when I find myself having to write copy for books I don't find to be good. Some are really well written, but about really bad topics or with characters with really horrible morals/ethics/politics. Some of them are really interesting ideas, but are just poorly written. (Yeah... we write a lot of copy for books that didn't get edited.)

Writing this stuff sometimes makes me feel like I'm writing press releases in support of a natural disaster ("You're going to love the flooding from this next hurricane!") or maybe asking people to buy an unfinished cake ("Sure it needs frosting, but just look at how level the layers are!").

But it's all part of the job, and it's something that I've found I'm pretty good at. So I do it and get paid for it and go on with my life hoping that the authors approve and their books sell.

And - every so often - I come here to confession. Your forgiveness - though not mandatory - is greatly appreciated.

Who Needs That Much... Bass?

We live in a fairly quiet neighborhood.

The dog barks when people walk by outside, or - more importantly - when dogs walk by. And we hear the neighbors' dogs bark from time to time.

And that's pretty much it.

Most of the kids in the neighborhood are too young to have loud amounts of attitude. They're more likely to be drawing on the sidewalks with chalk or swinging in their front yards than anything else. Aside from one or two, I suspect it's probably a good eight years before most of them are old enough to drive.

And yet, somehow, probably at least one or two nights each week we can hear someone's car stereo booming away outside.

Yes, even inside. With the doors closed.

And I'm not saying this as a "you young whipper-snappers get off my lawn" kind of thing. I'm saying it as a "who in the world needs that much bass" thing.

Once the earth starts to vibrate, it's time to turn it down.

No More Nude Blog Posts

I just wanted to let you know that Blogger is implementing a new rule and will no longer be allowing nudity in blog posts - either photos or videos.

So... yeah... I guess we can all be happy to know that I will never be posting any nude images on here.

Unless they're of puppies... or pasta...

You're welcome.

Clothes Make the Man (Sometimes)

A while back, I made a comment on social media that got some odd reactions - mainly from the people who only read half of it.

My comment was basically "Sometimes, when I'm driving through town to work, I see a guy and I just want to walk up to him and strip him down. And then put him in better clothing to see if it makes any difference."

Obviously, the people who only read the first sentence thought that I was simply talking about stripping down random men on the street, probably for prurient reasons. But those who read all the way to the end realized that I was truly trying to focus on the greater good. After all, there are a lot of good looking guys in the world who simply have no idea how to dress.

What's worse is that so often it is guys who obviously have a lot of money who look the worst. They're usually - in my opinion - trying one too many trends at the same time. It's like the old pre-bar adage of needing to take off one accessory before going out. If they're already doing skinny jeans and a lumberjack beard, maybe they shouldn't also do the clunky boots that make them look like they just left Dogpatch. That kind of thing.

But then there are also the guys who seem to find the right thing to wear... once... but then miss the mark the next time, after proving that they can do so much better.

In non-real-world terms, it's like Chris Hemsworth - the guy who plays Thor in the recent movies of the same name. (Full disclosure - one of those is on TV right now as I'm writing this.) For me, I think he looks good in the Thor costume. It gives him good shoulders (although I assume he has pretty good shoulders, anyway) and between his hair and the way the cape attaches to the armor, his neck fills out well. In real life, when you see him, he has a really long, skinny neck. And he looks kind of out of scale.

The times that I've seen him on talk shows, I've thought it would be nice to strip him out of his street clothes and put him in the Thor suit (or maybe just attach the cape to his street clothes, I guess), because that seems to be a better look for him.

I kind of wonder what I would think if I saw him walking across the street in front my car some morning. I don't really know how he dresses in real life, so it could go either way, I guess. And I can't really imagine me whipping out a full set of Norse armor to put on some random guy walking through downtown Minneapolis at 8:30 in the morning, anyway.

Oh... I totally admit that I also could use someone showing up and completely redoing my wardrobe. So if there are any fairy godmothers out there looking for that kind of gig, feel free to send them my way.

Catching Up

Do you ever get the feeling that all you're doing is trying to catch up to... something?

At work right now, I'm trying to get through a massive edit (over 1,000 pages of text - something like 373,000 words), and although I'm trying to work through it, I seem to keep falling behind.

Then, also work-related, I must admit that my income seems to be lagging behind most people I know. Part of me wants to feel successful because I'm working "in my field," but part of me would definitely prefer to catch up to everyone else.

Studies have been done in recent years about the impact of Social Media on our collective - and individual - psyches. Apparently one of the big issues with most of these sites is that we spend a lot of time comparing ourselves to everyone else. Of course, much of what people put up online is an airbrushed version of their lives and not the nitty gritty. So we're all trying to compare ourselves to something that isn't real to begin with. And this, apparently, makes the rest of us pretty depressed.

Somewhere along the line, instead of Keeping Up with the Joneses, we've all started trying to One-Up the Joneses.

Christopher (and, to be honest, about 50% of the people we know) laughs at me for not having a smartphone. But I have to admit that I like my flip phone. It does what I need it to do (making calls and sending texts), but doesn't force me to be plugged in to the world all the time. Instead, if I turn off my laptop (or simply walk away from it), I'm on my own, in my own little world as I enjoy the great big world.

Perhaps that's part of why I'm having so many problems getting through the book at work. It's so huge that I don't have the time at work to just sit back and stare out the window from time to time without feeling guilty about it. I haven't gone out for lunch in about three weeks - not even to somewhere cheap - so that I don't lose time. All of which - as you might guess - is causing me to feel like I should be getting paid more. (And - look - I've circled back around on all of my topics!)

So, for now, I'm going to keep keeping up with me, instead of the Joneses. I'm not sure it will make me any happier (we'll have to see on that), but I don't think it will make me any unhappier, either.

One Week Past Thanksgiving Day

The Holiday season seems to be going by crazy fast this year. I assume that that is because Thanksgiving was so late, and so there is less time than usual between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

This means that all of the Festive has to happen in a condensed timeframe - including all the decorating and baking and card-sending and re-connecting. And, often, those are activities that end up being a blend of joy and AAACCCKKKKKK - especially in a short amount of time.

Luckily, it's also the time of year when the smallest of things can make it all worthwhile.

An out-of-the-blue hug from a friend.
A parking space that isn't half a block from the store.
A random memory of joy had in past years - which doesn't detract from the current year, but adds to it.

I had the extreme pleasure of having one of those last kinds of happiness land in my inbox this evening. A reminder from a friend of a shared experience, resulting in a smile and that kind of warm feeling that doesn't mean heartburn (which - let's face it - can be pretty frequent this time of year).

Long story short, the email mentioned "We Need a Little Christmas" from Mame. So I thought I'd continue using videos to wrap up my posts with this song. (There's no actual video - just the album cover.)

Here's to old friends and carols at the spinet and, of course, Angela Lansbury.

Why I Won't Shop on Thanksgiving

There are two very different viewpoints on the whole idea of retail stores being open on Thanksgiving. As you might have guessed from the title of this post, I happen to fall on the "no retail on Thanksgiving" side of things.

As I was watching people talk about this subject on social media, I realized that I apparently had pretty strong feelings about it, and I wasn't sure why.

I mean... I know there are a lot of jobs which are always at work - 365 days a year. Nurses and Firefighters and Security guards, for instance. And for as long as I can remember movie theaters have been open on Thanksgiving, as well as some restaurants, and of course places like hotels and 24/7 customer service phone lines are always open. And grocery stores are usually open for at least part of the day. (I did a last-minute back-up dessert dash to the store today, in fact.)

So why is retail so different in my mind?

I think that my reasons have two sources.

The first source is the fact that I grew up working in my family pharmacy in a small town. The store was open six days a week, year-round. And my dad was there each of those six days. On Sundays, even though the store was closed, he'd almost always go into the store for a while after church. There were no days off.

I don't remember any Christmases which weren't interrupted by someone calling with a last-minute need for film or batteries. On Thanksgiving, there wasn't really anything that the drug store had that people would need, though. It was - typically - the one day in every year that the entire family could be together all day.

The other half of my anti-Thanksgiving-Day-retail stance is because, for a number of years as an adult, I worked retail in various malls. A number of those years, I worked in kitchen stores, where Thanksgiving is a huge business. Honestly, with all the people shopping for everything to make a Martha Stewart-style Thanksgiving dinner, it was kind of insane. We all needed the day off to recuperate.

Luckily, I got out of retail before Black Friday meant that stores were open all night. The worst I had to deal with was a year when we opened at midnight. The store had shoppers for about half an hour, then it was dead until about 8am. It picked up for about 4 hours, then was pretty much quiet the rest of the day. We honestly did not have enough staff - even with the seasonal ramp-up - to have a full complement of people in the store the whole time we were open, so the managers all had to work 10-hour shifts, with pretty much nothing to do. (For the record, if you've never experienced it, most malls are pretty much empty of shoppers from about noon until 5 on Black Friday - meaning that all of the shop workers are standing around with nothing to do, trying not to fall asleep after having gotten there at 6am, or earlier...)

I keep hearing people say things like "But there are people who really want the extra money they can make on Thanksgiving. They would rather make money than stay home." or "All those other people work on Thanksgiving, why is it different for people who work in stores?"

Here's the thing: For every one or two people who truly do want to work and make some extra money instead of being at home on Thanksgiving, there are 20 people who don't want to be there, but have been told that they either have to show up or be fired.

There is - at least in my experience - no "holiday pay" in retail. Unlike so many service industry workers who might get "time-and-a-half" for the holiday, retail workers simply get the "work today or don't work again" offer.

Maybe if the people who are actually on the front lines in retail were truly given a say on whether or not to work the day, I'd feel differently about it. But I can't imagine that the folks sitting in the corporate office being told "we might be missing sales" ever thought to actually ask their staff whether a true day off was important to them. (Even though most of those office types probably all check out early on Wednesday to spend a nice 4-day weekend at home with their own families.)

So... Anyway... I refuse to buy in to this whole "gotta get there early to get the stuff you don't need" mindset. And I don't imagine a time when I'll actually go shopping on Thanksgiving. I'd much rather spend as much of my day off as possible snuggled in on the couch with Christopher and the pup, secretly hoping that sales numbers tank so that all those corporate offices will reconsider giving their staffs a real day off next year.

Funeral Insurance

I've kind of gotten used to the fact that a lot of sites track all that you do to try to figure out how to advertise to you.

It's a little weird, sometimes - like when you go look at a pair of shoes online, and for the next three days every sidebar includes an ad for those shoes. But, for the most part, it's unobtrusive, and I fully admit that I kind of like seeing ads that I might actually be interested in.

After all, I'm just never going to be clicking on the "Meet sexy women over 50" ads. And - as far as eye candy goes - those ads don't do as much for me as the brown-on-brown Bass saddle shoes that have been showing up, lately.

A while ago, I created a social media group for some friends of mine and I to keep in touch a little better as we plan to meet up next spring. In the title, I included the word "reunion," and a number I'd rather not discuss at the moment.

Almost immediately, I started getting ads for Rogaine and Just For Men beard coloring. For the record, I have not purchased either. Considered them, yes. Purchased them, no.

Today, though, I got one that I was even more surprised by. Yep. It was an ad for Funeral Insurance. This strikes me as odd for multiple reasons, not the least of which is that I'm pretty sure at some point I'll have a funeral. I'm not sure I need to pay someone to guarantee that. I mean... we all die. And even if all you get is a pine box and an unmarked grave, that's still - in essence - a funeral. Don't need insurance for that; Death will take care of it for me.

All things considered, I kind of feel like I need that insurance almost as much as I need the sexy women over 50. At least the women might appreciate cool shoes.

**Yes, I know that the insurance is supposed to cover all the costs so your family doesn't have to. But... still... I'd rather have the shoes at this point. 

Feeling Unplugged

I'm working on a book right now that is about child rearing and how to spot if your child is having difficulties, or might be outside the "normal" ranges and in need of therapy. It's a bit one-sided (as you might expect, since the author is only one person - so of course she has her opinion), but some of the info is actually kind of interesting.

What struck me today, though, is that a lot of what she talks about for infants and small children about how they learn and learn to interact is also applicable to adults.

I just finished a section all about how very young children shouldn't be over-exposed to computers/tablets/smart phones because they can become - in essence - addicted to the stimulation. Over time, they stop being interested in the world around them and will only focus on the screens, or other things with instant sensory gratification.

What struck me as odd about that, today, is that on the radio this morning they were talking about some city in China which is (supposedly, at least) creating "tech lanes" on the sidewalks. Basically, these are areas where people who are using their technology can walk, while people who are not using tech can walk in other areas.

I'm not entirely sure whether these lanes are supposed to protect the people with their heads down who are totally oblivious to the world, or if they're supposed to protect the rest of the world from getting run into by those people with their heads down.

I found myself having the same reaction that one of the people on the radio had. He said "Or maybe people could just turn off their phones for long enough to walk outside and actually interact with the world."

As I was leaving work, today, the twenty-something husband of a co-worker was walking to the garage with us. He had dropped his smart phone and the screen had cracked, and he was kind of giving the "that's the way of the world" response. So I held up my flip phone, which I've dropped enough that the back has popped off and the battery has come out, but which still works. His response was "You don't ride the bus. I'd be so bored for 45 minutes without it!"

Whatever happened to people reading books? Or listening to the world instead of having earbuds in all the time? When did small children have to be stimulated and entertained at every waking moment? When did it become impossible to enjoy a quiet bus ride as a time to just calm down and not be connected? Why do I suddenly want to go live in the middle of a no-wireless-service zone?

And who wants to come with me?

Serious Comedy in Musical Theater

Christopher and I went to see "The Book of Mormon" tonight, and although I kind of knew what to expect, I didn't quite know what to expect. 

You see, you hear everyone talking about how funny it is. How the show is so irreverent. How you laugh all the way through it. How the guys are all kind of geeky/nerdy hot. 

But you never hear about how amazing some of the songs are. Or how touching some of the scenes are. 

I had heard the discussions about whether or not is was kind of sacrilegious (it is), but how it is also kind of honest about Mormonism (it is). 

But no one ever mentioned how much it's simply about faith and beliefs. And - in some weird ways - good triumphing over evil. 

Yes, I laughed a lot. Yes, I was grossed out by some of the "South Park-style" humor. But I was also surprisingly moved by some of the rest of it. 

And that was good. Because I think that if there are some people who go to it only looking for a laugh and leave there having felt something a little deeper, that's a good thing. 

And - at the heart of it - I think that's what musical theater is kind of supposed to do most of the time. Not all the time. But sometimes. 

(Oh, and - yes - some of the guys really are kind of geeky/nerdy hot, too.)

Zer Floot

With all of the rain we've been having in and around Minneapolis, people are beginning to talk about ark building and animal gathering and kayaking down the streets. People have been getting washed away in their cars, roads have been getting washed away... It's kind of insane.

But whenever I hear someone talking about Noah, I tend to think about inappropriate laughter.

I don't remember how many years ago it was. But I was home in South Dakota and the priest at the time was... well... he was not from South Dakota. And his accent was thick. Really thick. Like "ask the phone customer service person if you can speak to someone else" thick.

He was kind of melodious to listen to, but that doesn't mean he was understandable. And, while we could follow along for most of the service and figure out what he was talking about, during the sermon we were on our own. That's when we heard it.

"Zer Floot."

And he didn't just say it once. He said it a few times. And none of us had any idea what he meant. I contemplated all sorts of possibilities, but couldn't come up with anything. Until he said something that sounded like "No-eh."

"No-eh ant Zer Floot."

Of course.

Summer Hours

One of the perks in my office is that, in the summer, we can opt in for summer hours.

Typically, we work 9-5. No actual lunch breaks, just the 8 hours straight through.

Summer hours are 8-5 Monday through Thursday, then 9-1 on Friday.

In the past, I've worked regular hours through the summer, because the pup stayed in a kennel all day, and we didn't want to leave her in there any longer than necessary. But we've moved her to the kitchen, so now we don't have to worry about her cramped in the kennel all day. So I decided to try out the summer schedule.

The optional schedule started this Monday. And although it was hard to get out the door on Monday, it didn't feel that bad to do the longer day.

Tuesday night, Christopher and I went to a movie, which meant that Wednesday morning felt kind of early.

Last night, I met a friend of mine for dinner and a movie - but it was relatively early when I got home and I was still in bed pretty early.

Today, though, the day stretched on for hours. Of course, I've gotten used to getting up earlier this week, and tomorrow I don't have to work until 9.

I have the feeling that I'm going to enjoy the summer hours, overall. But, in the immediate future (such as tomorrow morning), this is going to be a little rough.

Tales from Triage

Christopher and I spent a couple of hours at Urgent Care last night, making sure that the sinus/cold thing that is hanging out in the house wasn't anything more than that. (Happily, it's not. I mean... it's nasty, but at least it's just nasty and not worse.) We checked the wait times before we left home, so we knew it was going to be at least an hour, but that didn't really prepare us for the waiting room. Or the almost 2-hour wait.

You see, the waiting room at Urgent Care is used for triage - you take a number, get checked in, and then if you're not urgently urgent, you take a seat and wait your turn. I've only ever seen one person get sent to the front of the line, and I'm pretty sure he had an almost-severed finger.

So, last night, while Christopher was being forced to wear a facemask to keep his coughs in check, I was reading a book and watching the triaged crowd around the room.

The most obviously intriguing person was the guy who was probably in his 20s and seemed to be there with his mom. He had one foot up on the bench seat next to him and one of his toes was wrapped in tissue. (The other foot was in a Croc clog, but I can't fault him for that given the circumstances.) We heard from the doctor, later, that there may have been an issue with a speaker and "fireworks," which resulted in that toe's visit to Urgent Care.

There were a couple of small kids who were kind of hilarious - probably about 1 and 2 years old - very chatty and wanting to walk around and look at everything. I cannot imagine what it must be like to keep two little kids occupied in a hospital waiting room.

I have to admit that I was a little freaked out by the older woman who was brought in on a borrowed wheelchair because of a fall in her home. She had a scrape on her forehead, but the major issue was her knee - which she pointed out to the nurse was an artificial knee - which she had obviously done some serious damage to, because it was swelling and all sorts of purple. Oddly, though, the thing that most bugged me about her was her husband (I assume), who kept basically wanting to just leave her to deal with everything on her own.

But my favorite person in the room - from the point of having someone to watch - was the woman who stood up, walked over to a guy simply holding his cellphone in his hand, and told him that she wanted him to stop filming her. He looked up and said "I'm not doing that... This phone doesn't even have a camera..." (From where I was sitting, I'm pretty sure it didn't. It looked like it had less tech than my flip phone.) But that wasn't good enough for her. She proceeded to report him to the nurses on duty, who - I'm guessing due to some kind of duty - found someone else to come check out what was going on by walking stealthily by and stealing glances at the guy and his phone. The paranoid woman walked over and sat down on the other side of the room, with people between them, but kept looking at the guy. Then she paced. Then she sat down on his side of the room, again (which I really don't understand), before storming off to sit in the waiting room that is closer to the exam rooms. At which point the guy just kind of shrugged and kept on about his own business while kind of watching American Idol.

Eventually, Christopher got seen by a doctor. And by the time we walked out the Urgent Care doors were closed and there were just a few people left in the room. Obviously, we couldn't ask what happened to any of our co-waiters. I have to admit, though, that I kind of want to know what happened to each of the other people.

Dining Out For Life - 2014

If you haven't heard of it, "Dining Out For Life" is a program which goes on in a number of cities around the country. It's typically a one-day event, where restaurants give a percentage of their profits to charities which benefit people living with HIV and AIDS. So... You dine out, and it helps people live - "dining out for life." Get it?

The past few years, Christopher and I have made sure to get reservations early and go out to eat. We've typically invited other people to go with us, and we usually have a really good time. The restaurants that participate in the Cities are typically packed for dinner, and there's a really cool atmosphere to it all

There are volunteers on hand who greet the diners and talk to them about what the sponsor charity does (in the Twin Cities, the sponsor is The Aliveness Project), and so you get this feeling that you're all sort of attending the same party. Except that it's a party where you have to wait for a table (we waited a good 45 minutes for our table, tonight, even with a reservation) - and where there's a bill at the end.

If you're paying attention, you go into this event knowing what the basics are. And a lot of people book their reservations based on how much money the location is donating. And you just kind of do what you're doing. And you feel good about it. And you think "I dined out for life, tonight."

But Christopher and I really don't go out to eat on weeknights very much. We're usually pretty pooped during the week, so it takes a lot to get us to leave home. And this event is metro-wide, so although we're choosing places we want to eat - and with good donation levels - we're also trying to find places we think people will want to drive to. (We chose Cafe Ena, by the way - we've eaten there a few times, and the food and service have never failed to impress us - slow seating tonight notwithstanding.)

So when we invited a bunch of friends to join us tonight - who didn't all know each other - and chose a restaurant that was fairly close to us but a bit of a drive for the other four... well... we figured it had the potential to be a good night, but you never know.

We got to the restaurant around 6:45. We left at right about 10. We didn't stop talking the entire time - even when the food arrived, the six of us found some way to keep talking as we ate. And it was wonderful. It was one of those meals that makes you glad to be out and about on a school night - even with the knowledge that tomorrow morning is going to come pretty darned early, and that you've blown your meal budget until the 1st of the month.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that tonight we truly did dine out for Life. Not just in the sense of the donation we were making, but in the sense of adding some life to our week. There was tech talk as we waited for our table. There was travel talk over appetizers and pet talk over dinner. There was silliness over churros and cinnamon ice cream. And we were still talking as we walked out the door feeling like alarm clocks are going to ring too early in the morning.

Yes, we dined out for life. And it was good.

Unexpected Event

To some people, merely speaking in an elevator is an unexpected event.

When I walk out to the parking garage with people from my office, though, elevator conversation is just part of the trip.

Of course, when we're in the elevator with other people, sometimes that makes the other people wonder what's going on.

Recently, we had walked into the elevator and there were a bunch of other people in there already. There was a new sign on the wall next to the door which said "Due to an Unexpected Event the 3rd Avenue Elevator will be closed temporarily."

One of the guys in the elevator - not one of my co-workers - said "Makes you wonder what kind of unexpected event happened, doesn't it?"

I replied, "Yeah, like was it a surprise party that got out of hand?"

And the other guy actually laughed.

I kinda love unexpected events like that.

With Customers Like These...

I haven't posted any "Bad Quote Quotient" posts, lately, because work hasn't given me any.

That isn't to say that I haven't worked with a decent amount of bad text, but it hasn't been funny. Or mockable. Or anything that seemed to work for the blog.

But I found the following quote last week, and after sharing it at work I've found that people find it pretty humorous. So I decided to share it, here:

"Bank robbers are just self-regulated bank customers who naturally prefer withdrawals to deposits."

I found that in the midst of a book about the American economy and politics... Even so, it was an odd comment in the book, and kind of stuck with me in a "did he really say that?" sort of way.

So now I share it with you, with one caveat: Maybe not all customers are good customers.

Well, Now, That's Just...

There are things about Minnesota which will always surprise me.

I am always amazed to come across someone who actually speaks with the traditional Minnesota accent. Of course, I'm also still amused by people who have a stereotypical Baltimore accent.

I think that I'm probably just generally amused by accents. It probably has something to do with growing up in South Dakota with a dad from South Dakota and a Canadian mom who had done a lot of growing up in Southern California. I was always told that my accent was funny, so I paid attention to other people's accents, too.

But then I also was a teenager in the 80s, when "valley girl" was an accepted way of speaking.

So the other day when I drove through a small town in western Minnesota named "Bechyn," I kind of broke out laughing. It sounds like the perfect combination of Minnesotan "Ya, sure, you betcha," and a very 80s "Bitchin'." You know, as in...

"Ya, sure, that's Bechyn."

Or maybe it's just me.

This Week's Dose of Happiness

I love when things kind of show up out of nowhere and make your day - or even your week.

That happened to me this morning. After waking up with a song stuck in my head - the worst kind of song, where I only knew two lines of it and they just kept cycling - I thought I was doomed for the day.

I spent time before going to work searching out the offending song on YouTube so that I could hear more of it and get it out of my brain. That worked, mostly. Until about 10am, when I was trying to focus on work and the two lines popped back up in my head.

Then this piece of happiness came across my screen:

And life became *so* much better.