Mondrianyone

I had the same reaction. And because I'm neither a psychiatrist nor do I play one on TV, I think I'm qualified to offer a diagnosis. Pure sociopath. You're welcome. 👩‍⚕️

I don't know, because I've been making my own extract with vodka and vanilla beans for so long that I haven't shopped for it. I've been getting sales emails from spice and vanilla merchants for the beans themselves, so I'm pretty sure they're available. You have to be patient if you go that route, though, since it takes a while for the brew to turn into usable extract. I've had to hide the small jar of extract I have left while the next batch is getting ready, because my husband thinks he's entitled to use it in his coffee and leave me nothing to bake with. I'm realizing that I have baking staples hidden all over the house these days because he uses up stuff that can't be easily replaced, and I don't know we don't have any till I go to use it and it's not there. Someday he's gonna stumble across my stashes and think I have an extremely weird fetish.

Ah, phooey. I had a moment of hope when the title lit up on my homepage. Rats.

The Jackson Pollock At-Home Collection. You'd clean up with it. So to speak. My big concern is, once the pandemic is over, will they make us start wearing a bra again? (The women, I mean.)

The image of that man just breaks my heart. He was obviously trying very hard, and maybe that was the best he could come up with. The polar opposite of the entitled jerks we keep seeing in videos screaming about how this is America, so it abridges their freedom to show even an ounce of concern about other people. I hope someone carrying an extra mask gave it to him.

All it really takes is one. And then I guess these clowns go back home to their wives, who may or may not care if they're cheating, but worse, to their kids. Who we now know aren't immune to this. So . . . good luck.

Good job on the social distancing. They should all be dead in about two weeks.

I've never had them offer me any kind of credit, but I was already planning on mentioning it this time. Because this isn't entirely recent, and it was going on before the COVID issue was even a twinkle in anyone's eye. Jeff Bezos is rich enough to give me a 20% rebate, I'm guessing. Yeah, I figured that as well, but I think we're long enough into this so that a tiny company like UPS has had time to add another reason to their excuse list. When I see "natural disaster," I keep imagining a volcano erupting in Warwick, Rhode Island.

Okay, this is not out-and-out bitching, maybe just minor-league whining, but . . . I pay for Prime, but even before COVID, deliveries that were supposed to arrive in two days routinely didn't. I currently have two packages sitting at different UPS depots in New England, both of which were supposed to be delivered today. Not even close to an emergency, and my life will go on just fine if they don't show up for another month. I totally understand if my silly orders are put on the back burner while UPS rushes sled dogs through to Alaska carrying the serum. I'd even offer to drive them there. I guess there are two things that annoy me. One is that Amazon never offers a rebate or a credit if Prime deliveries are late (sometimes a week or more late). Two, you never get a real explanation for what it was that hung things up. With these two packages, UPS tracking says "weather or natural disaster" is the reason. So one package is stalled in RI and the other's in CT. Weather here in Maine has been clear and sunny the last two days, so probably not weather. And I'm sure if there'd been some natural disaster in CT and RI, we'd at least have seen a brief mention in the news. Somebody owes somebody an explanation. UPS also always says that they leave things at our front door. Which they don't. Ka-vetch, ka-vetch, as Norma Rae would say. I really love FedEx. ETA: I picked the wrong week to declare my love for FedEx, apparently. They need to rehire a driver they fired because he was subjected to some racist bullshit and had the gall to defend himself. Until they do, I don't really love FedEx anymore.

I'm pretty sure this has more to do with contracts than with contractions.

For someone who insists over and over that she doesn't care what the "haters" say, Sunny sure makes a point to answer them back all the time. When I saw the show a couple weeks ago, I was thinking that maybe Katie and her husband are staying at a little beach shack one of them owns. Easier to isolate there than in a city, but who knows? I made Katie's roast chicken on croutons again last week, and it was even better than the last time. I think it's my go-to roast chicken recipe now. I realized the night before that I didn't have any baguettes to use for the bread slices--so I made baguettes! (A little wonky-looking since I don't own a couche--which I've since ordered--but they tasted great and served the purpose just fine.) Quarantine is the mother of invention.

There are a bunch of YouTube videos on how to cut your own hair--much predating the quarantine. I'm sure it makes a difference how helpful they are, depending on what kind of hair you have and what kind of style you want. But probably worth checking out anyway. My hair is just longish and dead straight, so I follow the directions of a woman who has the same--brush it all forward, secure it tightly with a ponytail elastic up against my forehead, and then snip a straight line at the end of the pony. Everything after that is just finessing. I don't think people will be stopping me on the street to ask who cut my hair. But then again, we don't have a street anyway. And if we did, I won't be out on it.

I'll have to figure out how to tweak Greenland to Manila. Shouldn't be that hard.

I'm supposed to be working, so naturally I'm doing everything but. The last few days I've had scraps of song lyrics running through my head, so I thought if I wrote one of them down, I could free myself and get on with things. And naturally I'm dumping this one here. Apologies in advance. The Troll from San Diego (Sung to the tune of "The Girl from Ipanema") Short and squat and gross and neckless, The troll from San Diego goes waddling, And as he passes, the lovely lasses go "Ughhhh." When he talks, he's like a muppet That thinks he's cute but's just wash-uppéd And when he passes, the lovely lasses go "Ughhhh." Oh, could I sing him this ballad? So I can tell him we hate him? Yes, he's a pile of egg salad. When each day he applies mayonnaise, We just want to set him ablaze . . . Short and squat and gross and neckless, The troll from San Diego goes waddling, And as he passes, the lovely lasses go "Ughhhh." © 2020 by Mondrianyone

I can't remember a jar or container of molasses ever going bad on me. I think the current one was purchased at least eight years ago, and it still seems good. Here's a more authoritative opinion.