The Junk Drawer

What’s remarkable about this chip isn’t so much that it has a heart built into it, but that it’s eight months old and isn’t sporting any hair, mold or little green fuzzies. Dave’s been saving it since winter for my Food That Looks Like Stuff site, reminding me periodically to take the damn picture already so we can throw it out! But I’d always forget. He moved it from place to place and I guess I thought it was gone for good.

Just today he found it in a kitchen cabinet behind some junk. It’s very scary to me that it has not aged a bit. Looks just as good as the day I pulled it from the bag. I’m sure they use the same preservatives in chips that they do in McDonald’s french fries. Beware the potato snack.

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After a couple of weeks free of furniture shopping, we just got a call that our tables will be delivered next week. Woo hoo! The couch and chair aren’t far behind. Now we have to get serious about getting rid of the old stuff. I have to call my township and/or trash hauler to see if they have special days when you can put furniture out on the curb. We’d set it on fire in the backyard, but I kind of think that’s illegal.

The cocktail and end tables we used are still in great condition and I’d like to try and sell them. I’m a bad judge of how to price used items, and have little yard sale expertise. I’ll never hold another one ever since I practically gave away Dave’s Super Fantastic Deluxe set of Christmas tree lights that "you can’t find anywhere now and why did you sell them at the yard sale?!?!?" Live and learn.

Here’s a picture of the tables we want to sell. I’m guessing we paid over $1,000 for the set, so I suppose asking a hundred bucks is reasonable. They’re glass top with wrought iron legs, as you can see. And they’re really freaking heavy. If you or someone you know would like them, drop me a line. You’d have to pick them up (Hanover Township, PA). Come to think of it, you can take the lamps, too. Cat not included.

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Dipping into the Embarrassing Picture files, I present for your ridicule more thinking-I’m-stylin’ clothes from the 70s. Here, my sister Ann and brother Mike are striking a pose holding what was known back in the day as "real milk." Not 2%, not 1%, not fat-free, and certainly not that scary skim, oddly-blue milk. Real, fattening, practically-a-milkshake milk.

Observe carefully. Our attire might have been described back then as nouveau Austrian chic, or now upon further reflection, more likely answered the question ‘How can we make an outfit with all these leftover scraps of mismatched fabric?’

I actually didn’t mind being clothed in things that matched my sister’s outfits. We are only two years apart, so we were often dressed like twins (same style, different colors). But did they have to be THIS hideous? I don’t even remember having this outfit. I may have been so traumatized that it was stricken from my memory. I’m curious if these were dresses or if there were pants that went with the tops. Best left to the imagination….. or not.

Reader survey: Our mother took us clothes shopping in downtown Easton at a place called The Surprise Shop, aptly-named, since apparently what we bought was quite a surprise. Does anyone remember this store? I have faint recollections of it being a long and narrow shop with creaky wood-plank flooring. It was located a block or two west of the old Woolworth’s on Northampton Street.

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We used to have neighbors who obsessed about everything: car, house, and yard. They were both the envy of the neighborhood and the subject of much backyard gossip. It bears mentioning that they were both retired, so they had tons of time to tend to these things. We all stood by and watched as our houses turned to crap and theirs looked like Better Homes and Gardens. They put us all to shame.

Obsession is really putting it mildly. I’ve witnessed the wife getting down on her hands and knees to scrub their sidewalks clean. No kidding. The husband, Hank, installed Astroturf in their garage, swear to God. He also vacuumed out his car trunk monthly, though it’s doubtful there was anything to suck up. Really. Above all, they kept an immaculate lawn. Mowed that thing every Monday morning at 8AM sharp and fertilized all the time. Remember the drought of 1999? You wouldn’t know it over at Hank’s place. We considered calling the cops because he was clearly violating the water restrictions.

Here’s what it looked like the last time I took a picture of it (for an article I’m writing about living in suburbia):

Recently, after some nudnicks moved into the neighborhood, the couple realized they’d had enough. Too much noise and oil-leaking cars in the driveway for their tastes, they up and moved. That was in the spring.

Nice new, normal neighbors moved into the house and the first thing that stopped getting love and attention was the lawn. Here’s what it looks like today, after not having gotten the "Hank Treatment" all summer.

We have a secret kinship with these new neighbors, as now "Hank’s lawn" looks like absolute hell, much like ours — worse, actually. I think if Hank and his wife came driving around the ‘ol hood, they’d die a little. I’m sure the first thing he’d do is grab a water hose. Crying, screaming, and spinning in a circle, the lawn would get a great soaking.

One thing these before-and-after shots illustrate is what can happen when you over-fertilize your lawn and then suddenly stop. My friend Jason Slipp is my go-to guy for all things environmental. He knows everything about organic foods, natural-fiber clothing, biodeisel fuel and how the earth is going to hell in a handbasket. I went straight to him to find out why this lawn is deader than dead.

He explained:

Humans have been fertilizing their soils since the beginning of the agricultural revolution (probably without knowing it at first) with manure (human and non-human) and organic waste (plant/animal). This "waste" re-supplies the soil with much needed nutrients (nitrogen/phosphorus, potassium), and is important if we want to grow food.

Then came the "green" revolution when scientists realized they could manufacture synthetic fertilizers based on cheap oil and natural gas (all synthetic fertilizers are based mainly on natural gas - which essentially makes ammonia. Umm, isn’t is great that we are eating ammonia?). So for 50 plus years, to increase their yields, farmers have been spraying, injecting, and genetically modifying crops using synthetic fertilizers. Fertilizers have also gone commercial, and people are now hiring companies like ChemLawn to douse their lawns with synthetic fertilizers. These fertilizers make your grass green because they are giving the soil exactly what it wants, more nutrients (nitrogen/phosphorus, potassium). However, they are also changing the biological makeup of the soil and most likely poisoning ground water.

We are now seeing massive soil degradation, and many of the essential nutrients are not being replaced (essentially, soil is becoming over-used). So more fertilizers are required to uphold crop yields - it is a vicious circle. The same thing is happening to Hank’s grass. Basically, that lawn either needs to be heavily fertilized and/or watered. The lawn probably became dependent on the injection of nutrients from being fertilized over the last few years, and now it is suffering - basically, it is going through withdrawal and dying. We have also had little rain fall, so that doesn’t help, but I guarantee, even without rain, if the lawn was fertilized it would look exactly the same as it did last year.

The reality is, it is a lawn. And, I would rather see our dwindling natural gas and oil supplies be used for something else besides keeping a lawn green. Not to mention how environmentally damaging lawn mowers are (use fossil fuels for manufacturing and running and are very polluting). Enjoy your green grass in the spring, then watch it die in the summer (hey, less yard work!).

I’m anxious to see if the neighbors’ lawn ever comes back to life on its own, or if they decide it needs fertilization. The way it looks now, I wouldn’t be surprised if they discovered one huge dirt pile after the last winter thaw. Maybe they can Astroturf it.

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On a flight home from Vegas a few years ago I browsed the household tips Q&A section of a Reader’s Digest. I couldn’t believe it when I spotted a question submitted by a good friend of mine. When I got back in town, I called her excitedly to say I’d seen her name in the Digest.

Her reply surprised me: "Well, that wasn’t actually me who submitted it. My cousin works there and she needed a name to put with a question that they wrote themselves." Evidently, this happens sometimes when editors have just the right question in mind, but nobody actually asks it. I’m of the opinion that Judith Martin (aka Miss Manners) is doing the same thing.

How else do you explain this ridiculous question that appeared in her column yesterday in the Morning Call?

Dear Miss Manners: My boss says that it is inconsiderate to the workplace to leave the top off of my 12-ounce bottle of water/tea when I am not drinking it. He has a terrible tendency to knock it over. He also claims that when customers come in to the office and I have left it on the counter that, they too, knock it over. I now have to unscrew every time I want to drink and hope that I don’t lose the lid to screw it back on. Could you please clarify what is the proper way to handle your water bottle in the office? I do not wish to be uncourteous, but I think he is just clumsy. Please advise.

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This week I watched as my local grocery store jammed its shelves with Halloween candy. We’re not out of summer yet, but we have our sights on fall already. I’m sure the onslaught of Christmas isn’t far behind.

In the tradition of preparing for holidays well before its time, I give you Butterfinger eyeballs. These make a fun addition to your Halloween parties and kids just love the "gross out" factor.

They’re very easy to make. Here’s the recipe. In place of Goobers, I used Butterfinger BBs for the pupils. Be warned, though. The eyeballs are very sweet. One goes a long way.

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A common mistake in grammar involves the use of it’s and its. Everywhere I look it’s being misused.

What’s the difference and why the confusion?

It’s is a contraction for "it is" or "it has," as in It’s (it is) annoying when people correct my grammar, or It’s (it has) been a great week so far.

Its shows possession, as in The dog chased its tail, or Its bark is bigger than its bite.

The confusion occurs because on almost every other word, an ’s indicates possession, so naturally people want to use it’s to mean "something belonging to it." But it’s is used only as a contraction for "it is" or "it has."

How to get it right: If you can replace the word with "it is" or "it has," then use it’s. In every other case — no exception — use its.

By the way, if you ever see me misuse the word, you’re entitled to publicly admonish me. I’d deserve it.

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Ever e-mail digital pictures to your friends and family only to be told they were too big to view very well? Save the grief and make your digitals smaller before emailing them.

To do this in Windows XP:

1. Locate your digital picture on your hard drive or external media.

2. Right-click the photo and choose Send to, then click Mail Recipient.

3. You’ll see a choice to make pictures smaller. Click OK.

4. Your default email program should automatically open, showing the smaller attached picture.

5. Address and send. That’s it!

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Dave and I recently ended our furniture hunt. After two agonizing weeks of searching for accent tables, we decided to get a set we’d seen back at La-Z-Boy while looking for seating. I liked it immediately, but he didn’t. Not until he saw the exact same thing at Lauter’s in Easton did he conclude that he liked it. I suppose it was because he saw it matched with other furniture in better lighting. I wasn’t peeved that we could have saved all that time continuing to shop. I was really just happy the nightmare was over.

One of the worst experiences we had while still searching was at Raymour and Flanigan. We stupidly went to the Quakertown store thinking it would be different than the one in Whitehall, where they hire massively aggressive sales people. One in particular was the pit bull of salesmen. If you go, you’ll know him because he’s going to jump all over you and lick your face when you walk in the door.

The Quakertown store was as bad as Whitehall, if not worse. No less than six sales people were huddled at the front door, waiting to attack. We should have just turned around and left right then and there. You always think you can get past their tactics, but they make it VERY hard. Despite our ingenious plan to divide and conquer, (“I’ll go left, you go right, we meet back here.”) the sales staff nucleus quickly broke apart and began their descent, trailing us in both directions.

My technique at that point was to completely ignore them, mumbling or grunting short answers when they asked what we’re looking for. Dave felt this was rude, but I figure “Hey, they don’t know me. I don’t know them. I don’t owe them anything.” Besides, any minute some other poor saps are going to walk in the front door and they can have their way with them. I also kept my sunglasses on so I wouldn’t have to make eye contact. It made me seem a little crazy. All the better.

I know they work on commission and their jobs can’t be very easy with most of the people walking in and walking out without buying anything. But for crying out loud, we might have actually wanted something in the store, but we were so preoccupied with getting some privacy, we couldn’t take enough time to really see anything.

Here’s what I propose to you, Raymour and Flanigan. If you follow these simple rules, we can guarantee your sales will increase exponentially:

1. No touching. The attack dog at the Whitehall store kept patting Dave on the back and grabbing his shoulders like they were old friends who go way back. Keep your paws off.
2. When we have something to say, we’ll come get you. Be like polite children: Speak only when spoken to.
3. Don’t huddle around other sales people quietly talking about who’s going to “take us on.” We can see you, we know what you’re doing and it’s annoying.
4. No tailgating. When you say “I’ll be right here if you need anything,” stay in that spot. We’ll find you if we need something.
5. If we ask you a question, it means we just have a question. Answer it and then retreat.

If you had followed these rules, you might have made a thousand dollar sale. How’s that for screwing yourselves over?

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There’s a Pizza Village (IV) over by Weis on Crawford Avenue in Hanover Township. I’m sure their pizza is fine, but we always go for their burgers. Taste completely homemade, just the way we like. And you get more burger than bun, which is also a plus.

Dave paid them a visit and came home today with some burgers (and pierogies — about the best in town, second only to Pete’s Hotdog in South Side Bethlehem). I’m glad one of us isn’t afraid to go. He went because I refuse to anymore. Why? Because the big guy behind the counter refers to me loudly as The Cheeseburger Lady, since the only thing I ever get from there is cheeseburgers.

For a while, I was picking them up about once a week. I’m sure he meant to be funny about it, but it’s embarrassing to be referred to that way. I’m afraid there’s a picture of me in the back with four cheeseburgers dancing around my head and a caption that reads "The usual."

The day they start calling Dave "The Cheeseburger Guy" is the last time we set foot in there. Anyone know of another great burger joint in town? We just might need a new place.

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At one point or another, you’ve been frustrated with a computer problem and needed to reach out and call the tech support line. It’s possible you would rather have your fingernails pulled out, one by one, than talk to a help line person. It doesn’t have to be a bad experience if you follow these 7 suggestions:

1. Relax. The person you’re calling is there to help you and probably will do a good job of it. Give them a chance. Avoid screaming and ranting, as that tends to get the support person’s back up against a wall and that won’t do either of you any good.

2. Take good notes. If you are calling because you received an error while using a program, it’s extremely helpful to write this down. You can even take a snapshot of it for reference (CTRL+Print Screen, then Paste into MS-Word). Your problem can be solved much quicker if you have the entire message handy.

3. Patience, Grasshopper. Understand that the person you are calling likely has other customers or clients in the queue already. Try not to jump ahead, claiming your problem is an emergency. Most of our calls are emergencies. That’s why we get calls. You not only frustrate the tech support staff, but you also force other people to wait. If you were in the queue already, would you want someone else trying to nudge ahead in line?

4. Show respect. It takes a healthy amount of education and training to provide good technical support. A common complaint among my colleagues is that we do not feel our profession is well-respected because society thinks "anyone can do it." Doing it, and doing it well are polar opposites. Trained professionals do it exceptionally well.

5. Ask for training. Many computer problems can be avoided with a little user education. Don’t be afraid to admit you don’t know how to do something. Use your problem as a learning opportunity. Good technical support staff will offer additional help past the point where an immediate problem is resolved. It never hurts to ask, and it shows you are willing to learn and minimize your computing problems down the road.

6. Fess up. If you’ve tried and failed to solve the problem on your own (and perhaps made things worse in the process), it helps to know what transpired. Often, we can reverse-engineer the problem, which almost always leads to a faster solution.

7. A little humor never hurt. We all know how stressful computer problems can be. Try to take the edge off and use a little humor. It sets both parties at ease and usually leads to a more satisfying experience for everyone.

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I was talking to my student assistant yesterday about some really bad pictures of me as a kid. It happens I had some particularly embarrassing ones floating around on my website and showed him this. The poor kid. Didn’t know WHAT to say.

Christmas, 1970. There is so much scary stuff in this picture. I think I’m wearing a smock-thing made of really bad fabric probably not meant for clothes. What is Ann wearing? Those pants!!! What is with the pants?!?! And just what is Dad doing? Is that part of a bike? A balloon animal in the making? Bert and Ernie are hanging out behind us. Ernie still had his hair. He later lost it in the "Scissor Incident of 1971," perpetrated by me.

Stay tuned to this channel for more of the same. The best (or should I say the worst?) pictures are not surprisingly from the 1970s.

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As we approach the sixth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, I remembered a picture I took of a beautiful sculpture by artist Steve Tobin on a trip to NYC last year. The plaque nearby reads:

This sculpture is cast from the roots of the sycamore tree that was stricken by flying debris on September 11, 2001 in the churchyard behind St. Paul’s Chapel at Broadway and Fulton Street. Tobin created the bronze sculpture from 300 individual castings of the tree’s roots to commemorate the events of September 11. The sculpture was dedicated here on this site on September 11, 2005. The original sycamore roots, painstakingly preserved by Tobin with the help of tree experts, now rest permanently in the St. Paul’s Chapel churchyard.

Watch and listen as Steve Tobin tells why he took on the project. (Requires Windows Media Player)

Interesting bio factoid: Steve lives in our own backyard. He’s from Coopersburg!

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Research reveals that the average American worker spends from one to two hours handling email every day. Depending on your job, that number may be higher. For some — much higher. Email revolutionized the way we communicate at work, but it can also be the bane of our technological existence. If you find yourself the victim of email overload, try some of these tips to manage your mail and reclaim your workday.

1. Don’t need it? Delete it! If you’re a packrat, you’re in trouble. One of the biggest email problems users face is the sheer volume of messages they receive every day and the tendency to keep everything. Some tricks: Pick off the easy ones first. If you have a quick answer, send it, then delete the message. And not just from the Inbox – get rid of it in Trash, too. Stop re-reading the same message. Be realistic. If you know deep down you’ll never reply to the message, delete it and move on.
2. Set aside time to review email. Establish a routine for checking email. It may be that you block off time at the start of the day, again after lunch and then before you leave the office. Don’t allow yourself to be interrupted during this time. Deal with messages immediately: Delete it, forward it, schedule it, respond to it, or file it. Consider closing your email program outside of these scheduled times so you won’t be compelled to check for new messages constantly.
3. Setup a filtering system. If you belong to a listserv or receive daily messages from the same place (such as bulletins or announcements), filter them out of the Inbox and into another folder. Then when you have time, go to that folder and read them at once. This will keep your focus on one topic and minimize the time it takes to deal with them.
4. Setup a file folder system. Many of us keep messages for reference purposes only. Build a file folder system that categorizes these reference messages for quick access later. The important thing is to get them out of your Inbox.
5. Limit unnecessary responses. You don’t have to respond to every message, especially just to say "Thanks" or "OK." The more email you generate, the more someone else has to act on it.

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While talking with one of my colleagues yesterday, I slipped and used a phrase I hear all too often at work: "Sounds like a plan." I surprised myself that I even said it, given it’s on my list of stupid phrases to avoid. I should probably submit it to Lake Superior University’s Banished Words list and see if it makes the cut. The school accepts submissions for words deemed mis-used, over-used and just plain useless. View the whole cringe-worthy list here.

In my opinion, the 2007 list is a little weak. For instance, I see no particular violation in using the phrases "went missing" or "healthy food," but that’s just me. I do agree that "Ask your doctor" in pharmaceutical commercials makes little sense. What am I asking him for? Shouldn’t he be telling me what I need?

Other phrases that drive me (and my sister) nuts: moving forward (would you ever move backwards?), adds functionality (an unnecessary mouthful), grow your business (just doesn’t sound right) and I see what you’re saying (you don’t actually, unless you can lip-read).

My all-time least favorite word in the English language is youse, as in "Are youse guys taking Mary out to lunch for her birthday?" Well, it’s not a real word, and that’s precisely the point. I once worked alongside a woman who used that word ad nauseam. It didn’t help we work for a university, where one expects to find reasonably good use of the English language. She eventually took another job, and for all I know she’s still "yousing it" around a new crop of stunned co-workers.

What words or expressions drive you nuts?

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My brother-in-law is currently on a decidedly un-fun business trip in China. Between the inadequate rest, long flights, long waits in airports and interesting food choices when he dines with his hosts (pigeon, anyone?), he’s ready to come home. The emails he’s been sending to my sister tell tales of travel hell, which reminded me of one of my favorite trip movies, Trains, Planes and Automobiles. Here’s a memorable scene from that great Steve Martin and John Candy flick.

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For those following activities in The Dad Zone, you’ll know that I was planning on getting him Verizon DSL soon. That day came today. The setup was a breeze and Dad’s now surfing the web infinitely faster than before. He’s so thrilled that his internet polka stations are playing smoothly, every last one of them. He can’t get enough of this new (to him) technology, he’s going to get right on the phone and brag to all his friends that he’s using broadband now. Good for him!

So after getting DSL configured and working, I decided to try migrating him over to Mozilla Firefox for times he’s reading his news websites and playing the radio feeds, simply because AOL does a lousy job of rendering these sites and doesn’t always know what media players to use for the stations. Firefox is so much easier, plus he knows how to quickly enlarge text on screens with a touch of a button. Something else AOL sucks at.

After moving all his AOL Favorites over to Firefox and getting him used to the new interface, he asked me a question I’d been wanting to hear for years: "Now that I’m using Firefox, what do I need AOL for?" I told him all it’s good for now is playing Slingo.

What he said next made me want to both strangle him and hug him at the same time.

"I don’t need Slingo."

"WHAT?!?!?!?!?! It’s ALL YOU TALK ABOUT!!!!! And if you stop playing it on AOL, you’ll lose your lifetime score!"

"Eh…. I can live without it. Besides, I can’t get higher than 108."

So, incredibly, I’m in the position to get him off AOL, stop paying the insane $250 annual subscription fee, get him browsing the internet the easy way, and stop hearing about how he can’t crack the Top 100. What a glorious day this is. I only wish I’d asked him years ago if he can live without Slingo. As crazy as it sounds, no one ever thought to approach him with that question. His Slingo score was all we ever heard about.

I intend to download a "free standing" version of Slingo for him, which means he can still play the game. It just won’t know about his AOL lifetime score and he’ll have to start anew. We also have to wait until Slingo Deluxe works on Windows Vista. Right now, it’s not compatible, but I expect it will be in the next few months.

Rot in hell, AOL.

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Ever since Groman’s Bakery on Second Ave. in Bethlehem closed shop, I’ve been on the lookout for great new bakeries. My vegetarian friend and colleague, Jason Slipp, recommended Vegan Treats at 1444 Linden Street. For Dave’s birthday I bought an assortment of cakes, brownies and their awesome Chocolate Bombs.

This collection cost about $35. Pricey, perhaps, but totally worth it. The shop boasts a wide array of delectables, making it tough to choose just one. And aside from the vanilla cake, front row left, you’d never know they were made from vegan ingredients. The cake was slightly dry, and a little "off" tasting from normal cakes. But the rest were heavenly! That Peanut Butter Bomb in the front and Chocolate Bomb in the back got "forked" as soon as Dave lifted the lid. He ate his way through each decadent dessert little by little over the next week, right out of the box. Who needs a plate?

One other thing to love about this terrific little shop — they have a wonderful sense of humor. The day I visited they had the front door propped open with a miniature cast iron cow.

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With our couch and chair shopping behind us, we went out after work today looking for coffee and end tables. We went to about five places. A couple things interested us, but not enough to stop looking. We realized exactly when we should stop looking when we returned to the car after one visit to find the doors unlocked and the keys still in the ignition. We’re done for a while.

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For a time, Dave and I loved our living room furniture. We’ve had it for ten years and only started hating it recently. Both the couch and chair are oversized and overstuffed and aren’t the design statement they once were. Now they just look and feel ridiculous. It’s like crawling in and out of those big bouncer gyms you find in backyards at kids’ birthday parties. The older I get, the less ladylike I look getting on and off of them. Sorry old set, it’s time to move on.

We started shopping for new stuff Friday morning and didn’t finish until four days later. Here’s how it went down:

Our trek began in Whitehall, where the largest furniture stores are located. We figured it’d be a cinch to find something in the first big store we went to. Ha! We remember how excited we were on Friday. By Monday, we wanted to kill each other.

We thought we’d immediately find several things we liked and spend a few minutes sorting them out to make a final decision. Our goal was to find either a wrap-around couch, or a couch/chaise set. Over the next couple days, we moved from store to store. Some we visited twice in one day. But after not liking either of our target configurations, we moved on to Plan B, which was to get a regular couch and a recliner. This was a problem because we realized we had to return to stores we already visited to look at Plan B configurations, since we hadn’t even looked for that stuff on the first go-around.

So we ventured back to the same stores, and also stopped at new stores. I insisted on testing every single couch that had a snowball’s chance of being The One in every single store. Dave was soon getting sick of me planting myself on couch after couch, and I was starting to embarrass him because I test for the real world. This means I laid down on them, curled up on my side and pretended to have a remote control in my hand. I fake clicked, too.

On and on we went, in the brutal 90+ degree heat. In and out of a baking car that barely cooled up enough before we hit the next store. Even though we were fast losing steam and getting heavily on each other nerves, we were still on a mission and forged ahead. Over the four days, we visited La-Z-Boy six times, Thomasville Gallery four times, Raymour & Flanigan three times, and six other stores once each. We left every store in disgust over either not finding the right set, or finding one piece in one store and remembering another one we liked in a different store. We took measurements galore and tried to dodge as many sales people as possible until we were ready to ask a question. But once you open your mouth, they latch onto you like Super Glue and you can’t fling them off. Speak at your own risk.

We took swatch after swatch home and back again, because when we had a feeling we liked a certain piece, we allowed ourselves to test fabrics against our living room walls. On Sunday we thought we were ready to make a purchase at Thomasville, but it turns out the couch alone would have cost $2,300 with customized fabric. I just couldn’t part with that much money for a couch unless it had a built-in massager and talked dirty to me. We did, however, find the perfect recliner there and made a mental note of what it looked and felt like.

At one point, we borrowed swatches from Thomasville Gallery in plums and reds and brought them with us to another store to test. When we got to Raymour & Flanigan, we came upon the most disgusting purple couch and Dave exclaimed “Look, Kath, this is the same color as the plum we like! Look. See the comparison,” as he laid the swatch on the seat. “That’s plum??? Oh my God, we just dodged a huge bullet. We almost put that color on the couch at Thomasville!!!” If a guy had shown up to deliver me a plum couch I would have needed oxygen and defibrillation paddles because obviously the color plum on a swatch translates to “Barney purple” on a couch.

Redoubling our efforts in the Great Couch Search, we headed back to La-Z-Boy for the fourth time in as many days. Feeling they had the best overall selection, we figured our chances, no matter how slim, were at least better there than anywhere else we’d been. After walking the showroom in circles, I found myself repeatedly gravitating toward one couch called “The Woodrow.” Hint: If you find yourself going back to the same couch or chair more than once, BUY IT IMMEDIATELY. IT’S THE RIGHT ONE. I laid on The Woodrow for a good five minutes doing my fake remote control thing. I really didn’t care at this point if a sales person or another customer thought it was rude or poor form to be sprawled out all over the place. They don’t know what we’ve been through.

While I thought about whether I loved The Woodrow or not, Dave found a recliner similar to the one we found at Thomasville and dragged me over to see it. It took all of ten seconds to agree that we were going to buy this chair. Not only was it less expensive here, but it was a lot more comfortable. A wave of relief came over us both. We were finally making some progress.

Back at The Woodrow, I began to believe that this could be The One. Because we were so tired and unsure of ourselves, having looked at now hundreds of pieces, we thought it wise to sleep on it before giving our stamp of approval to the couch. Back home, we went online and used La-Z-Boy’s design tool to pick fabric types and colors, and lo and behold, were able to settle on two color groupings. A red/earthtone combination and a blue/floral combo.

When we awoke Monday, we announced with absolute conviction “This is it. We have to do this today.” So we piled back in the car bright and early. I swore I saw online that stores opened at 9AM, but because I can’t be trusted with the simplest things, we discovered stores opened at 10AM and we had to decide what to do for an hour. We killed some time at a Wal-Mart nearby and then headed over to return some borrowed swatches to Thomasville Gallery. To-date, we’d been there three times and bought nothing, so we worried the sales people would see us driving up and shout to each other “The Fredericks are back. RUN!” We watched and waited for someone to come unlock the doors at 10:00. As we approached the store from the side, we inched our car ever closer to the front door and then the hell of our experience reached a crescendo in the form of punch drunk silliness. Dave started to hum the theme from Jaws as he drew closer and closer to the entrance, all the while supposing that the employees are hiding behind really big furniture trying to avoid us. I laughed so hard I started to cry and then worried when the lady came out to let me in, she’d think I totally lost my mind. She would be right.

After returning the swatches to the nice woman who finally came to the door, we drove over to La-Z-Boy one last time with hope in our hearts. Please, God. Let us still like the couch and let these colors work. As soon as I walked in and sat on The Woodrow again, I realized I still liked it, loved it actually, and gave Dave the much-awaited thumbs up. Now all we had to do was pick colors, and thanks to Sharon, their wonderful sales assistant, we settled on floral for the chair and deep blue for the couch. She advised us on how to pattern the four couch pillows to match the chair, and then we were DONE! Thank God Almighty. Our ordeal is over.

We calculated we put in 14 hours of drive time and showroom walking in order to get this set. I’d like to say it wasn’t so bad, but it really was. When it comes time to replace this new set, believe me when I tell you – we’re hiring a designer and we don’t care what it costs. Our next goal is to get new coffee and end tables. We think this might be easier since we have the seating pieces accounted for. Really, how hard can it be?

UPDATE: The new furniture arrived on Sept 26. Check it out here.

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Dave and I finally kicked a bad habit. I’ve been trying for months to scale back the amount of bottled water we bring into the house (or at least pay less for it by buying jugs), but Dave was still buying six-pack bottles. I just couldn’t get him to let go. But just last week he announced “That’s it. We’re done with the bottled water!” It’s not because my ranting and raving had any effect. It’s because he heard a report that Pepsi admitted its popular Aquafina brand comes from tap water. Apparently this was the deal-breaker for him.

His motivation to stop was the principle of the thing. Mine was a little more complicated:

1. The money we wasted was staggering. We estimate at three bottles per day each, we were spending between $75 - 105 per month. We at least tried to buy it only when it was on sale. But still the price was through the roof.

2. I became increasingly bothered about how much plastic we were adding to landfills. By the end of the week, the recycling bin was filled to the brim with mostly water bottles.

3. I got so tired of lugging it around. You have to cart it at the store, lift it on the scanner, throw it in the car, take it out of the car, then refrigerate it. Then we’d take bottles back to the car to take to work every day. My arms and back were getting tired.

The only reason we ever bought bottled water was for the taste, so we invested 25 bucks in a Brita 10-cup Deluxe Water Filter Pitcher, which we’re very pleased with. It’s easy to fill, fits perfectly in the fridge and the water tastes every bit as good as Aquafina. Even with the cost of filters (about $20 for an eight month supply), we’re coming out ahead. We broke the chains of bottled water, and man, does it feel great.

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I received my dad’s modem from Verizon already. I only ordered the DSL service for him on Wednesday. I’m not very anxious to get down to The Zone any time soon. I’m granted a reprieve of sorts. Verizon said I can’t install the modem or the software until the service is turned on remotely by them. This won’t be for a few days. So for now, I just have to gear up for the visit and maybe beg my sister Ann to come with me, if only to keep Dad at bay. Poor thing. She returns from a relaxing beach vacation tomorrow. Maybe I should wait a day before calling.

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I love this site, One Sentence, which asks readers to submit a true story in just one sentence. According to the site, they can be "Insignificant stories, everyday stories, or turning-point-in-your-life stories, boiled down to their bare essentials." A simple reader voting system, thumbs up or down, calculates your score.

Here’s the one I submitted, which as of today, has earned 64.75 points. Maybe it’s why I can’t balance my checkbook.

"The only professor I could find who was able to get accounting concepts through my thick skull died three weeks into the semester."

For the record, I dropped the class after I couldn’t regain my momentum with two substitute instructors the college hired following his death. I then developed a terrible fear of accounting and waited until the very end of my college career to take it again. Thanks to an excellent teacher and sheer determination on my part, I got an "A" in the course. May wonders never cease.

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I see all kinds of strange PC problems in my line of work. Sometimes the simplest steps can resolve the most perplexing problems. Here’s a list of some crazy things to try that you might not have thought would help.

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