I'm a little surprised how many people have unpleasant reactions to the tetanus booster. I had mine last year after being bitten by a feral cat (my fault, I forgot about young male cat's biting when stimulated) and had no soreness.
Now, a typhoid shot -- that one's a bitch. Two days of aching and swelling.
I've read probably 75% of the clutter books on the market and have yet to find one that addresses my particular problem--What do you do when you love the person but hate his junk?
And I do mean, literally, junk--he dumpster-dives, goes curb-clearing after neighborhood yard sales, brings home cartons of books thrown out from library sales... We have a 2-car garage which cannot be entered. Boxes of baby toys and equipment (our youngest is 14). 20 years of the Journal of the American Meteorological Society, never taken out of the wrappers. National Geographic, of course. Clothes 2 sizes too small and 8 sizes too large.
And paper. Every piece of paper needs repeated scrutiny before it can be thrown out.
Me? Stuff means nothing to me. There's nothing I own that I couldn't walk away from.
I have given up and am letting the tide take over. There's no point to fighting it.
R. M. Koske #33--
I do the cloth bag thing, and I just go around picking them up during the general clean-up. If I come up short I don't care--they're just made from remnants and leftovers.
(I don't have a boss, but if I did, I'd assume that bag wasn't coming back. My family knows I'm frugal.)
Being as I'm friendly with my sewing machine, I can make a bag in less time than it takes to wrap with paper. Rectangle+fold+sew two sides+turn rightside out. Insert prezzie. Tie shut with ribbon.
Is it true there were riots in the streets, people demanding the days taken from them be returned?
It's amazing how simple Thanksgivng dinner is when you're cooking for 3.5 people. My husband is allergic to most of the traditional accoutrements, and the kids are suspicious of anything uncanny.
So it's not really a whole lot different from 'dinner' as usually served, except for dessert of tarts, apple and pumpkin.
Not a gun owner, have handled a hunting rifle a (very) few times, so take my opinion for what it's worth.
When I hear the concealed carry routine, I like to bring up three names: Amadou Diallo; Sean Bell; David Scaringe.
Diallo: experienced police officers, trained in the use of their weapons, panic and shoot 41 bullets into an unarmed man.
Bell: experienced police officers, trained in the use of their weapons, panic and shoot 31 bullets into an unarmed man.
Scaringe: experienced police officers, trained in the use of their weapons, attempt to stop a suspected drunk driver by playing Dirty Harry and shooting out the tires of a moving vehicle. The drunk gets away. Scaringe, walking down his own street, is shot dead.
Now if that's what happens when trained professionals start shooting, whatinhell could you expect from a panicked civilian--or, worse, half a dozen panicked civilians?
(BTW, my father is another of those men who came home from WWII and never hunted again.)
My friend, 63, just retired, newly remarried, was asleep in the back unbelted as her husband and stepson were up front, wearing belts. They had minor injuries. She died immediately of a broken neck.
My niece fell asleep at the wheel a few miles from home. Her dad is a first responder and as he pulled up, he was sure she was dead--the entire front of her car was crushed. Because of seatbelt and airbag, she literally walked away from the accident and into her father's arms, with only a broken wrist and sprained ankle.
My brother fell asleep, but he wasn't as lucky. He was 31. He'll always be 31.
Use your freakin' belt. You want to die, fine, but I've lost enough people I love.
This is the definitive site for good fruitcake fellowship:
http://www.fruitcakesociety.org/
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