And so the week of slim pickings comes to an end. Well, not that slim; did all the updates, by cracky, and I hope you enjoyed them. The week went by quickly, thanks to a little trick I taught myself: Tuesday is actually hump day. What do we want? Friday. Well, I do. Friday night is the night when nothing’s due the next day. Complete freedom. On Tuesday I’m four days away from Friday past, and two days away from Friday to come. Voila!
On the other hand, it dragged, thanks to a little sick I had myself. (Sorry.) Since I didn’t go in to the office much to infect everyone with promiscuous viral shedding, I slumped in the warm cave where the hours have their own rhythm, a pace quite apart from the tempo of the office. If the office is time on a treadmill, home-office hours are like wandering in the desert. In the end there’s the same number of steps but the mood is quite dissimilar.
The day began with the realization that I was finishing a bag of Raisin Bran and did not have another box downstairs. I’d bought three on a sale a while ago. Went through them all, always thinking there was one more. Well, I’d have to go to the store, or eat something else. But if I wanted to eat something else I would have bought something else.
I did not want to go to the store. It was sixteen below.
Thursday night I picked up daughter from play practice, and we went off to eat. Where? Can’t decide. Ended up at the place where we have pizza on Fridays, because they have exceptional hoagies, and I can’t stand the “sandwiches” at Subway (desiccated tasteless bread, flavorless meats, gloppy sauce, reheated meatballs, alarming wedges of chicken swimming in a pot, all made by someone who, at least at the place where we used to go, radiated a barely-veiled contempt) or Jimmy John’s (ate there once; consistently underwhelming in every aspect from the bread to the decor). There’s a new place, Firehouse Subs, drawing on the natural connection between combustion-extinguisher brigades and lunch meats served on longish buns. But Davanni’s has excellent hoagies, so that’s where we went.
I picked up a moist towelette and a packet of Frank’s Red Hot.
“For the plane,” I said. She rolled her eyes, as ever. (Note: no one ever rolls their eyes when I pull out the moist towelettes on the plane. Then I’m a hero who has provisioned well.) While we waited Daughter looked at my apps and judged them. Such grown-up boring stuff. I noted that I had too many grocery-store apps, and considered how little I used them. Like this one - I stabbed it, and it woke up and announced that Raisin Bran was on sale for two dollars a box. Well then. Well then indeed.
After we finished dinner we went to Lund’s, and I bought three boxes. Sampled cheese. Hello, a special on Lean Cuisine! Let’s get the same things I had this week so the monotonous procession of indistinguishable lunches can continue as ever! On the way out Daughter points to a sign and laughs:
“Jazz Hands Cuidado,” I said.
“But he has no feet.”
We both took out our cameras. THIS MUST BE INSTAGRAMMED.
Anyway. Still at 70% from the cold, so that's all for this, except for below, which is more. There's always more!
The weekly Lum & Abner Organ Mystery: Lum has just decided to turn the store into a department store, and has a great idea for raising the money required to remake the store. The organist goes to town.
I have no idea. None.
Spare examples of new Music Cues this week. One, perhaps.
CND Cue #322 A repeat of a cue I think would be perfect for “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” with a bit more of the strings. They really tuck into it. All-purpose cheerful tune for walking down the street on a sunny day.
CND Cue #323 Something about the middle of this one tells me they didn’t do too many takes.
CND Cue #324 Start-stop hesitant cue that suddenly gives us the Chord of Domestic Satisfaction with a whirling note for autumn leaves.
CND Cue #325 More confident here-we-go music to be used for someone we take seriously, not regard as comical. Dialogue left in for a slightly surreal quality.
CND Cue #326 The return of the CRAZY MUSIC, with a bit more at the end than I’ve heard before; it suggests a whole different theme I’ve never heard, and makes me wonder if anyone ever did.
Clipped from above - wouldn’t this make it a nice ringtone for “mail sent”? Download here - right click on the link.
Now, another crinngingly bad CBS PSA:
I do not think that word means what you think it does.
"I saw a commercial for an above-ground pool. It was thirty seconds long. You know why? Because that's the maximum amount of time you can depict yourself having fun in an above-ground pool." Mitch Hedberg.
One minute above-ground pool ad, 1959.
Updates on the right - Patriotica ads, and a NEW COLUMN at the newspaper. Here. (Scroll down to the Columnists pane; when I did this it hadn't posted yet.) Have a grand weekend!