Oh Deer.......tick......

This is more or less a public service announcement. 

If you wake up one morning and find this on your shoulder (or anywhere).....go to Quick Care, immediately. (that's me)


It's a Deer Tick bite with the telltale bullseye ring around it, precursor of Lyme Disease. Now, I've had plenty of wood ticks sucking on me ever since I've lived here....they're not an issue.


I would just rip them off of me and throw them out. But this, I've never seen. A Deer Tick is the size of a pencil point and I never even saw it. But I saw it's results, so I immediately flew into action like any medical professional would.


I googled it.


And then I went to Quick Care. Have to take two weeks worth of antibiotics so that I DON'T get Lyme Disease. Whew. (The rash goes away all by itself even if you don't do anything about it, but years from now many, many things can go awry, like arthritis and brain issues, etc. You don't want that.) (Google it.)


That night, after Quick Care, I got really sick with flu like symptom....chills....aches.....the works. That lasted almost 2 days.






Now, this all happened just 5 days after THIS:

Just me and the electric hedge clipper. We did it. (Don't ask.)


Had to get a tetanus shot that for 4 days, made my arm feel like it was run over by a truck. That was after I got a Shingles shot in the same arm the day before.


And this is after the refrigerator died and a repair man couldn't come for  5, count them, 5 days!!

Now, THAT was bad.

Translator needs a translator....

I like to do stuff. I find millions of things to do on Pinterest. I save them for later.......(yawn).

But these directions for making a round basket out of plastic bags were obviously translated from another language by somebody other than a human being. (I hope)

Check this out.

I especially like this line....

"We can get his head on a nail wire for easy weaving!"

So, when you are really pissed off at some guy, you might want to get his head on a nail wire for easy weaving!

Now you have the directions.

image credit

My computer let me down....

image credit

My laptop died. About a month ago. At least it pretended to die. And I thought we were friends.

Let this be a lesson to you all. BACK EVERYTHING UP!!

Oh yes, I've read that missive before. I've heard it drilled into our heads at school a gazillion times. And I actually did back up my work......three years ago.

Not good enough apparently.

The thing that was attached to me by the hip let me down. Surprisingly it felt like a punch into the gut, like the wind got knocked out of me, like someone ate all my coconut mounds brownies.

(recipe to come.....)

I was grieving. I lost over 3,000 photos, a million recipes, untold amounts of school work and directions for a spinach smoothie that makes you forever young and rich beyond your wildest dreams.

To make a long story short, all of a sudden, after an attempt to download an update for itunes, my screen went gray, the apple symbol showed up and I was unable to sign in. Then the computer started to restart itself over and over and over again and I was never able to sign in.

The computer guy at school said I killed it. ('My' computer really belongs to the school.) He tried several things....his assistant tried different things....everyone researched the internet for solutions to no avail. The special 'architecture' of the 'school' programming did not allow

these remedies to be useful. It needed to be re-imaged, and then all gets erased no matter what.

BUT...it didn't make any sense!!!! I hate things that don't make sense. It didn't make sense to my son either. And he knows EVERYTHING. (ahem)

Everything was still on my computer....right behind that dang gray screen. We just couldn't get there.

The hard drive did not get run over by a bus. It's was still intact. All my stuff was still there. I knew it was.

ALWAYS GET SECOND OPINIONS. Eventually I found someone that knew how to surgically remove my hard drive, put it into another computer and access all my stuff!! It's all jumbled up, no rhyme or reason to it, but it all appears to be there.

Except the directions for the smoothie.

image credit

Home today...

FIRST SNOW DAY of the year!! Got the call at 4:20 a.m. and it wasn't even snowing yet.

Went back to sleep, got up and had breakfast around 7:30, and have been researching wasting time on my laptop eversince. (it's 10:15 now.)

I get emails from all sorts of discount, half price deals thrown my way. Usually it's for restaurants or massage parlors...stuff like that. 

This morning from Groupon I got this deal. I don't know if I could pass it up!

Not just one Justin Bieber singing toothbrush, but TWO! OMG

I don't know what to do.

Maybe Mr. Downeastdoingstuff (AKA Birdman) and I can simultaneously brush our teeth and have a duet going!

The possibilities are endless!

or...

NOT!

Lord help us.  (note the '37 bought' info on the ad.)

This country is in more trouble than I thought.

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

This was Friday morning, October 28th, 2011. 

This was today, Sunday morning, October 30, 2011.

WTF?

And we all just let it be???

I was driving into school today and, once again, noticed the price of gas. 

It’s bad enough, the price that is, but can someone explain to me why ANYTHING costs a ‘dollar’ amount, a ‘cent’ amount and then a fraction of a cent????

Hello. I’m paying $3.67 and 9/10 for a gallon of gas?  Nine tenths of a cent???

So when I’m all finished filling the tank by myself, why does it never total 'whatever', 'whatever' and a fraction of a cent? How can it always end up on a whole cent?  I’m no math wiz, but even I know something isn’t kosher.

I fear I am being taken for a ride.

Squirrel proof bird feeder.......

Look real close.....or biggify the photo. 

Yep, the squirrel proof birdfeeder I got Birdman is doing a great job. Yes, indeed.

Furthering my education.....

I like to think that I am always learning. A perpetual student.

One way I further my education is by studying blogs. Blogs that deal with art, food, making things, decorating, food, humor, travel and food.

Some blogs have a gazillion followers.....some don't. They're all good.

But every once in a while I come across something I don't get. It seems like those people that work in the so called 'think tanks' need something to do now and then so they think up new and cutting edge terminology that suddenly envelops the world.

Such as people saying...."Having said that......blah, blah, blah....."

As it is, it's all I can do to keep up with LOL, OMG, BFF and WTF.

Suddenly, in the more fashionable blogs, I see the terms, "after the jump". This is usually after someone's introductory paragraph for their blog entry.

Stuff like that drives me nuts, or even to drink.

WTF is 'after the jump'??? Someone.....anyone.... please tell me!

Well, I don't hear anyone answering my question, so I guess I have to do the research myself.

Here is what I found out.....

After the motorcycle jump looks like this......

After the ski jump might be.....

After the horse jump....

After the high jump....

After the jump off  the boat....

After the bungee jump....
Soooo, having said that, I still don't get it.

Anyone?

Huh??

I was just sitting here, fooling around on my laptop, with my jacket still on, because Mr. Downeastdoingstuff, aka Birdman, was making a fire in the woodstove, and it wasn't balmy enough in the kitchen to de-jacket.

I suddenly feel my phone vibrate in the pocket of my jacket and reach in to retreive it.

But my phone wasn't in my pocket.

It was out on the hutch cabinet 6 feet away.

And it wasn't ringing.

Or vibrating.

What do you make of that??

(keep it clean.....)

Duh....

How do you know when you need to have your head examined??

When you go to the first ever in Maine Trader Joe's Grand Opening. That's when.

My frozen food I attempted to purchase, thawed and cooked itself before I was able to check out.

Sooo, my question to you.....Do you like Trader Joe's?

What do you like there?

Oh, what a night.....

I am still recovering from my airport mishap 2 days ago. I am recovering with pizza, icecream and wine. 

This may take a few days, or weeks or more.

I actually am very busy taking care of the business I came here for. My mom is still in the throes of a very long recovery and dad is doing the best he can.

Just in case you are wondering, which I'm sure you are, here are the photos from beautiful Philadelphia Airport....you know....on 'that' night. (Longest night of my life, btw.)

Here is where I sat for about an hour with my tea and a chocolate glazed donut, plus my laptop, of course!! (Thank you Philly airport for free wireless! Not all airports have that.)

The halls of the airport at around 10:45 p.m.  Deserted.

What goes on after 11 pm at the food court. I don't even want to know what's going on. (Looking for the runway?)

My home for the night at gate C 26. I bought a new pair of fuzzy socks at Newport News shop, the Information Desk gave me the pillow and a blanket. Where's the blanket you say? It's there.

That tiny, teeny little rectangle above my new socks. Yup, that's it. It's called a space blanket.

(If you don't know what that is, it's a gigantic, gargantuan, monster sheet of aluminum foil type of stuff that's suppose to retain 90 percent of your body heat. When you take it out of the plastic sleeve, that is. As it is now, it's pretty much useless.)

My view from my bed. I was posting yesterday's post in my new socks. I finally fell asleep with my pillow up against my backpack which was propped up against the wall. Not the most comfortable position, but at least then I'd be alerted if someone tried to steal my stuff.

After around 2 a.m. it turned frigid. I tried to hold out and not get up because I was so danged tired, but I had to resort to the space blanket. Note: Space blankets make A LOT of noise when handled. But I did manage to cover myself with this oddball thing, and it actually DID keep me warm.

What was worse was that the Musak (elevator music) played at ear splitting decibels all night long and the night crew highway repair lighting was never dimmed. A TV was on all night long in the gate area and sleep was very hard.

The night cleaning crew appeared around 11 pm and worked all night. The humming of the floor polishers and vacuums actually were a welcome relief.

After a while I decided in my sleep to find out what time it was. I estimated that it must have been around 3:30 am. I took out my cell phone and discovered it was 5:15 am!!!

I opened one eye and this is what I saw.....

People already there waiting for the 6:45 flight that I was taking!!! I have no idea what they must have thought of that woman in the corner wrapped up in aluminum foil. (that would be me...)

I calmly sat up as if sleeping across 3 seats wrapped in Alcoa wrap was perfectly normal. The hard part was stuffing the Space Blanket into my back pack because it made sooooooo much noise. (Attracting unwanted attention...although nobody seemed to care.)

I combed my hair with my fingers, packed up and headed to Au Bon Pain for breakfast.

Turning back to the gate, this was the view....
There were plenty of people there, going about their business for a normal flight, happy that the seemingly homeless woman was leaving....

Pissed off....

Right now, and I mean right now, I am pissed off.

It's 11:39 pm. 

That's bad enough, that I am still awake.

The part that makes it pissable, is that I am at Gate C26 at the Philadelphia airport.

I'm the only one at Gate C26 at the Philadelphia airport.

Did I mention that it's 11:41 pm?

My flight is at 6:45 am.

Do the math.

Why am I here?

Good question.

My mom, who lives in Orlando, fell last weekend and broke a vertebrae in her back. She's 89 years old. Not good. She also has heart issues. She's in a rehab facility at the moment.

So, being the good daughter that I am, I took off to help out a little. Dad is also 89 and he's at home.

Got to the Portland Jetport okay. Got on the plane okay. Plane taxied to runway okay.

Plane shuts off engines. NOT OKAY.

Pilot says they didn't know we were going to use the runway so we weren't scheduled.

So we have to wait about 25/30 minutes. Then we'll go.

"...they didn't know we were going to use the runway???????"

You can't make this up.

Understand, I had 44 minutes between flights. If all goes ok, that's not a lot of time.

So now I'm down to 20 minutes between flights.

So we take off. When we are almost in Philly, the pilot comes on and says, "They won't let us land, so we have to circle for a while."

"They won't let us land????????"

Now I KNOW that I'm in the Twilight Zone. 

Using the runway? Silly us. Needing to land? Preposterous.

So by some miracle we  land and I calculate that my next plane is leaving in 11 minutes. It's still actually here. BUT, I'm in the back of the plane and nobody seems to be opening the door.

(Another foreign concept, I'm sure. I am convinced that they are making this all up as they go along.)

We landed at Gate C-24. My plane is leaving from Gate B-5. Not good.

After an excruciating amount of time goes by, I hit the terminal floor running. Along with about 10 other people, not all going to the same place.

I notice that some people can run faster than me. So fast, in fact, they are yelling out "excuse me! excuse me!" 

I am yelling out "&^%$#^&*#*&", and  " (make  heavy breathing sounds)".

 These people appear to be 30 to 40 years younger than me. That might have a wee bit to do with it.

No one pays any attention to me clopping along.

I run until I can run no longer. Running in sandals is not good. Running with a backpack on and pulling a rolling valise is not good. None of this is good.

Look. What's ahead? Why, it's B-1 ! Followed by B-2 and 3, then 4! Can B-5 be far behind, I joke to myself?

No joke. B-4 is followed by B-6. 

"WTF?"

B-6 .....B-9 then what to my wondering eyes should appear? But, yes, yes, yes B-5!!!!!!

B-5.

 I'm sure there were people there once.

Did I mention that it's 12:03 am?

more later......

It stinks....

....or at least it stank.

OK, so Mr. Downeastdoingstuff goes off for a few days. This is something that has been in the works for many months and marked on his calendar. This event was not sprung upon him at the eleventh hour rendering him a frenetic valise packing fool. Oh no. He knew about it.

I had to get up at the ungodly hour of 7 A.M. to transport him to the other people that also had this occasion marked on their calendars.....for months. I didn't mind (too much)....I love him....and I know that he would get up at any time, day or night to transport me to anywhere in the world that I wanted to go. 

So while I'm still bleary-eyed and semi-unconscious in bed at 6:45 A.M. he announces to me that there is a skunk in his havahart trap.

"A what?" Blink. Blink.

"A skunk. And I don't have time to do anything about it, so you are going to have to handle it."

Sensing a nervous breakdown approaching, I have a nervous breakdown.

(why, oh, why didn't he de-activate the trap the day before KNOWING he was leaving????)

sob. sob.

"WHAT?????#&%((@??"

"Yeah, but you know what to do."

(I know what to do. ) Blink. Blink.

ONLY because he has had to do it before, several times. And I've 'heard' him 'talk' about what he does. BUT, and this is a big BUT, I've never seen him do it, and I've never even operated the friggin Havahart trap. (Just the word 'trap' doesn't sit well with me. Things can go awry rapidly.)

So that's it. Off I go, good wife that I am, taking him to his destination designated in ADVANCE. Did I mention he knew he was leaving?

I drop him off, come back home armed with good intentions of taking control of the situation, and.........go back to bed.

Can't sleep. Toss. Turn. Thinking about something I shouldn't be thinking about. What are my options?

1. Do nothing. (I presume the creature will eventually go to skunk heaven, what in this heat and all....) (Heaven is supposed to be good, isn't it?) (But visions of the skunk named 'Flowers' from the movie BAMBI enter my head and this does not become an option.)

2. Have my grown son still living with us take care of it, which is the same as option #1.

3. Do 'it' myself.

So, after grumbling and pacing, I go up into the garden area to assess the situation.

Here is what I see.

It IS a little 'Flower'. Just a baby, all black and white and fluffy and pretty. 

Sheesh.

I KNOW first thing I have to do is to quietly cover the dang trap with a cloth of some sort. This apparently confuses the skunk and she thinks everything is ok. (Not too bright, are they?)

So I go grab an old sheet in the garage and like a professional stealthy burglar on cat paws, I slowly, carefully cover the cage and ......run like hell.

OK. Step One. Check.

Step two. Text husband. Check.

"Now what?", I type on my cell phone.

"Open the trap with a stick pushing the front lever.", is the response.

"&$(__&@$*&@^", I mumble. 

OK, I find a stick, expose the lever, and push it.

Nothing.

Push harder.

Zippo.

Text him again. "Try harder", he instructs. (YOU try harder is what I wanted to say.)

Now I knew I had to take matters into my own hands. So I did what any intelligent person would do. GOOGLE it!!!

After 45 minutes of watching videos about different types of traps and how not to get too close because these animals have TEETH, and how you don't want to get rabies and stuff, checking out the latest recipes on www.cookinglight.com , I come to the realization  that I can open the lock to the door if I have some sort of a hook apparatus. So I made one with some metal strapping, some pvc pipe and masking tape. See?

Now, if you look closely you can see a wire that's up in the air in the front of the trap. I did that. With my hook.

(key smug look).

Then I took the stick and pressed down on the front lever. The door opened! And I didn't smell anything! Flower was a good girl thus far.

Yeah!!!!! I took the stick off of the lever. 

The door slammed shut.

"*&^%$#^*" and "grrrrrrrrrr".

I had to think fast. How much of this ruckus was Flower going to take?

Aha. I did make a hook, didn't I?? So I opened the door again with the stick on the lever routine, took my nifty hook and latched it over the edge of the open door, laid the hook and pvc pipe handle on the top of the trap, placed a shovel over it as a counterweight and backed away.

(If you want to take notes, you can biggify the pic by clicking on it.)

Voila!!!!! Door open...... and I didn't get bitten or sprayed and it only took  from 7 A.M. to  4 P.M. for the  completion of the job. 9 hours. 

What was I going to do with myself  the rest of the day?  ;-/

Do you find this scary?

It's called a scarecrow. It's supposed to be scary. 

It scares me. I don't think it scares the birds. Which is what it's supposed to do.

Mr. Downeastdoingstuff made it. I'm hoping it's not finished yet, a work in progress. I don't dare ask him. It's been at least a week. Maybe it's the best he can do. 

I think he needs my help. He just has to ask.....

At least this guy is scared.....

P.S.  To be fair, he DID ask me for help when he started and I, good wife that I am, said "no way".

SAY IT AIN'T SO......

My beautiful forsythia blooms.....;-(

Keep your heads up little tulip and iris sprouts, it'll get better.

Welcome to my first day of spring school vacation.

That'll be Seventy Five dollars, please....

So on Monday morning, I open the fridge to get out my cottage cheese and notice that it is rather balmy in there.

I examine the icetray in the freezer and see that global warming has finally hit my icebox.

My refrigerator is silent.

It has died.

I am panic stricken because I now have a fridge full of perfectly good food that I have to do something with. I realize that I have very little time left to make breakfast, get dressed, pack my lunch, check blogs and head off to school. 

Fortunately we have an unheated summer porch right off of the kitchen, so I empty out every dang piece of food and jars of condiments (many) and heave them it out onto the porch.

(What's the shelf life of fish sauce ? ) (Several years, I hope.) (What IS fish sauce?)

I inform Mr. Downeastdoingstuff, who is still recuperating in bed at the moment, that: 

"The refrigerator is dead."

"What????" (I think he only heard the word 'dead'.)

"The fridge has died. I put all the food out onto the porch. Call the repairman. I have to go."

"OK" +  "(unheard comment under his breath)"

Text message later in the day informs me that soonest the repairman can come would be on Wednesday....... two days later!! 

So the temperature on the porch is cold enough for most food, too cold for veggies and not cold enough for ice cream and ice cream sandwiches. But it'll have to do.

Wednesday, the repair man arrives.

He opens up the bottom freezer, turns a knob (that I have never laid eyes on, even while cleaning it), and the dagnabbit thing starts up.

$75 please.

Apparently cramming an ice cream container into an already jam-packed freezer may or may not turn  off the entire refrigerator . Beware.

Going out to breakfast !!!!

It's 10 degrees out and Mr. DEDS wants to attempt to go out to breakfast somewhere! And to take pics for his blog!

Update on how we do when we get back....

(gulp)

UPDATE:

OK.....we're back.

Upon leaving the house, Mr. Downeastdoingstuff says, "Let's see how the lake looks first." (That was his first thought.)

So, off we go to Sebago Lake. Sebago Lake has a nice boat launch that is used in the winter for the ice fishermen. (ICE FISHERMEN n. 1. A lifeform, from unknown origin, that has lost its mind and labors under the illusion that fishing, especially  when it's 10 degrees outside, is fun.)

Now, Mr. DEDS hasn't been out very much since his heart repair and need to be careful. He still has some anxiety/hyperventilation issues that he needs to conquer. So, cognizant of this, I pull the car up to the ice as close as physically possible so that he could just open the door, step outside, and take a shot.

Yes?

NO!!

Off he goes......slow but steady.....out toward the ice. Just a little at first, and then a little more.

Next thing I know he's ON the glassy ice in his Sperry Rand topsider boat shoes, shuffling along.

And he keeps going....

Meanwhile, I'm in the car freaking out. I've seen him lose his breath just opening a bag of prunes. (That's another story...) As recent as last night!

I unbuckle my seatbelt just in case I need to make a dash for him. My hand is on the door handle ala Meryl Streep in Bridges of Madison County in a white knuckled grip.

I have issues with lake ice under normal conditions. I do not believe that it can hold a lot of weight. I KNOW that if I, Elenka, ever step out onto a frozen body of water, EVEN if there are trucks, snowmobiles, ice shacks, overweight fishermen and elephants on it, the additional weight that my body would put on the ice would be the straw that breaks the camel's back. So I don't even try.

But there goes my delicate, newly repaired husband, getting smaller and smaller in the grey distance.

I just about called the psychiatric version of 911.......for myself. I was that freaked out.

Would YOU walk out onto this......EVER??? Even in perfect health?  Not me.

Oh yeah, we did go out for breakfast, to the Front Room. It was very nice.

Then after that, I chauffeured him around town, down obscure streets along the docks, dodging wharf cats and high tide puddles. All for the cause of his blog. 

Another adventure under our belts.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEET LITTLE SISTER......

More chipmunk action......

So I'm trying very hard to fall back asleep in the early morning, knowing that I have to get up for the day at 5:30 a.m. It's 2:00 am and once again I'm up, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed.

I've learned that when I'm in this condition there's no point in lying there, I need to get up.

So off to the kitchen I wander, bundled up in my son's XXL Mexican alpaca zip-up poncho and my L.L. Bean wool socks.

I fix myself a steaming cup of mint green tea and open up a sleeve of salt-free saltines. (An oxymoron?)

I watch 5 minutes of a movie called 'Booty Call'. It became obvious why this movie was on at 2 o'clock in the morning, so I flick channels. Discovering nothing worth watching, I check up on some blogs I enjoy and then go back to bed. Eventually I almost doze off....

Around 5 a.m. I hear muffled voices from the adjacent bathroom, but choose to ignore it. My son goes to bed at ungodly hours sometimes, so I've learned to tune-out noises coming from the house. I also have 2 cats that make weird noises and keep weird hours.

At 5:45 I shuffle into the kitchen. Mr. Downeastdoingstuff is already up and on his laptop. If you have been keeping track of his impending surgery adventure, you know he didn't go back to work after getting booted out of the hospital. But he gets up anyway, just about every morning, work or no work, when it's still dark.

"There's a critter in the house" he says.

"What? Again?"

"Yeah," he answered, "I was sitting on the toilet and a chipmunk came running in followed by both girls."

"You're kidding?"

"Nope. The darn thing ran around the toilet a couple of times chased by the cats."

(stiffle giggle) "While you were on the toilet?" I asked. (stiffle...stiffle...stiffle)

"Yeah."

"Where," I inquire, "is it now?"

"I don't know."

This isn't the first time this has happened in our 190 year old house. The house is not as air-tight as I would like it to be. 

I knew something was up the night before. When the cats park themselves in front of a large piece of furniture or major appliance and stare at it as if Mickey Mouse himself was due to pop out at any moment, I know something is lurking in the dark.

But I had to go to work, so I let the thoughts of this incident drift out of my mind.

Until last night.

I get home after a draining couple of hours at the Mall. My fuzzy gloves currently reside at the Mall as they fell out of my pocket somewhere in my travels from store to store.

"What's the critter news," I ask.

"No news. It's still here somewhere."

"Have you seen it?"

"Yeah, it's running around."

To make a long story short, around 8:30 PM I hear sounds like something is being beaten to death with a broom.  That's because something was being beaten to death by a broom.

In my bathroom. On my heated floor. On my white alabaster grout.

This is Mr. Downeastdoingstuff's story....

"This is a cautionary tale... you might NOT want to read on. All card carrying members of PETA should leave this post at this time... It might have been a Chip, might have been a Dale..., but for sure it certainly was a chipmunk. After watching its antics all day I can say this, it WAS a dancer, but  NOT a member of the Chippendales. The cats and I tracked this critter ALL day, from room to room. Cats wanted to play--- I had more sinister plans. Near the end - it jumped up about 5 feet, straight into the air and even landed for a moment, on my fleece. Scary????? It reminded me of the "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation" scene when the squirrel jumped out of the tree and turned the household into turmoil. Ha! Now weaker individuals(read: 'pussies', wimps, and spleeny people w/o backbone... my mom's words) would have cowered at even the thought of taking on this 1 1/2 inch 'beast'. However, after the 'damage' was done all I could think of was-- this guy (me) stays home from work for this?"

OK, here is the evidence...if you are faint of heart, don't look. (There's no blood)

Ready?

Rest in Peace, Chip.

The murder weapon.

Case closed.....til next time.

@&%$*(@)^%^***!!!!!

As I said.....@&%$*(@)^%^***!!!!!

(somebody.....help us.)

The tic tac....

 I always figure there's a good chance I might have bad breath. So I am keeping the tic tac company in business by purchasing tic tacs about every 5 minutes.  Sometimes I even take two of them, just to be on the safe side. And sometimes, even, I share them, usually just with my husband as we're in the car driving to someplace where there will be people.

  So this morning, about 1/2 way to school, I took a tic tac. ('took' a tic tac? Like medicine?)

So anyway, I'm driving away, listening to the mother of the octuplets being grilled by Ann Curry on the Today Show, when I suddenly turned a corner and ended up full face into the ultra bright rising sun. After smooshing my face around trying to somehow block out the sun,  I ended up sneezing....hard....three times.

  When I was done I realized........no tic tac! It was gone! I must have propelled it right out of my mouth. Looked all over while trying to drive. Couldn't find it. Gone for good in the salt, sand and crap-laden abyss that is the floor of my car.

  Finally got to school, took off my coat, mittens, scarf, boots and llbean socks, put on my normal shoes,  sat at my desk....and VOILA, there was the tic-tac....1/2 it's normal size and stuck to my pant leg.

   I don't know why I'm telling you all this. It's actually kinda gross.