I love scented candles. I love the smell of fresh baked bread. In much the style Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups were invented, what if candles and bread crossed?
Would you like a fresh baked bread scented candle? I’ll tell you what, I’d buy that for a dollar!
(Incidentally, “I’d buy that for a dollar” is a rather famous, if not obscure movie quote from here.)
How sweet is my wife you ask? (Ok, you didn’t ask, but I’ll tell you anyway)
I’ve been talking to Donna about writing professionally for quite some time. Ok, more than “quite some time” — it’s been more like the entire 13 years I’ve known her. I always go on about how I’d like to be a writer, how it’s what I wake up thinking about in the morning, and what I go to bed thinking about at night. Yeah, I get pretty melodramatic. Anyway, after reading John Scalzi’s post on becoming a professional (meaning “getting paid”) writer, I ordered my copy of Writer’s Market, and started the rejection process.

So what did Donna do while I skittered off to work yesterday? She set up a corner in our extra room into a writing sanctuary for me. It’s so cute, but more importantly, so supportive and sweet. Here’s a crappy photo of the corner taken with my cell phone. I was too lazy to get the camera, SD card reader, etc, etc.
Just a quick post about a big annoyance of mine. In the past month, I’ve been to (3) restaurants with the most absurd forks ever forged. (Are forks forged? That awful fancy talk for a lowly fork… anyway…)


Does someone think these pitchforks are actually
fancier than a human fork? Was it actually hard to keep track of 4 freakin’ tines? Please people, I’d rather eat with a
spork than with one of these ridiculous food pokers.
John Scalzi has a weekend assignment over at his By the Way AOL journal. The assignment is to post about something silly you or one of your children did when they were younger. So, with Lydia’s permission, I’ve posted one of her early “all by myself” trips to the potty…
I’ve noticed that I’ve fattened up of late. I notice it because the only pants that fit me are the 2 pair of fat-guy khakis I have left from my pre-skinny-getting days. What happened?
You stopped eating smart, you dolt. You eat anything you want, as much as you want, and any time you want. You’re lucky you can fit your fat-guy pants on.
The truth of the matter is, I don’t have the motivation to cook anymore. Maybe I should start with some of the simpler vegan recipes, and get fancy if I so desire. I guess I need to look back on all the advice I would give new Eat-2-Live folks, and follow it myself.
So hopefully, I’ll get a little smaller before too long. Wish me luck!!!