I Can’t Say No

I am tempted by many, many things. Things as diverse as items for sale at a flea market. I won’t go into them now because I can say “no” to them without much difficulty.

Popcorn, however, is a different matter.

PopcornI can’t get enough of it. One little microwave bag can hold me for a while, when I’m desperate, but this girl needs the mega bucket at the movies. If at home, I sweet talk hubby into making the “good stuff” using a beat-up old pan, on the stove, popping a huge batch of white popcorn in butter flavored Crisco. Salted well, of course. He has perfected this skill. No doubt because of constant practice.

Popcorn

My favorite son-in-law uses a large old-fashioned popcorn machine to make a large bin of movie-style popcorn right there in the family room. He, my daughter, and granddaughter also love popcorn. So why do they make fun of me? It’s healthier for me than potato chips or sweets. So what if I want it every night for dessert? And every day packed in my briefcase to take to work and eat with my lunch?

Popcorn Go ahead and jest. Just pass the popcorn!

The Smallest Thing

Magnifying GlassWhat is the smallest thing near me? To my naked eye, the smallest thing is the speck on my mouse pad. It could be a piece of cashew, a grain of course sea salt, or a crumb from the finger foods I eat while I write: cereal, chips, granola, and popcorn. I try to be neat, but crumbs happen. Just ask my keyboard.

In order to truly know the composition of this speck, I would have to lick my finger, place it on the speck and extract it from the mouse pad, then put it on my tongue.  I’m not above doing this, but I like to recognize what it is, if I do. When the uninvited speck gets in the way of my mousing, I will shoo it off with the back of my hand to the floor. No biggie.

What I don’t like to think about are the small things that my naked eye can’t see. Germs. Bedbugs. Dust mites. I certainly do not want to see these things under a microscope! I saw a glimpse of a Science Channel discussion on dust mites once, and they showed close-ups of mites at 100x magnification. I had nightmares for a week.

I almost put a photo of this monster on my blog to show you what I mean. I came to my senses just in time! If you were blessed and had never seen this, who am I to be the one to give you nightmares?  I don’t need any either.

Some things are just better left alone. And sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

A Joke For You

Airplane LandingI get a lot of email with Re:FWD:Re:FWD:FWD:FWD.. as the Subject. Sometimes a cute joke will come my way and I pass along the ones that make me laugh out loud. [This one is from my cuz-in-law, Shar]

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A man boarded an airplane and took his seat. As he settled in, he glanced up and saw the most beautiful woman boarding the plane. He soon realized she was heading straight towards his seat. As fate would have it, she took the seat right beside his. Eager to strike up a conversation he blurted out, “Business trip or pleasure?”

She turned, smiled and said, “Business. I’m going to the Annual Nymphomaniacs of America Convention in Boston ”

He swallowed hard. Here was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen sitting next to him, and she was going to a meeting of nymphomaniacs.

Struggling to maintain his composure, he calmly asked, “What’s your business role at this convention?”

“Lecturer,” she responded. “I use information that I have learned from my personal experiences to debunk some of the popular myths about sexuality.”

“Really?” he said. “And what kind of myths are there?”

“Well,” she explained, “one popular myth is that African-American men are the most well-endowed of all men, when in fact it is the Native American Indian who is most likely to have that trait.

Another popular myth is that Frenchmen are the best lovers, when actually it is men of Jewish descent who are the best.

I have also discovered that the lover with absolutely the best stamina is the Southern Redneck.”

Suddenly the woman became a little uncomfortable and blushed. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I shouldn’t really be discussing all of this with you.  I don’t even know your name.”

“Tonto,” the man said, “Tonto Goldstein, but my friends call me Bubba.”