Happy Which Year?

Stop the presses!

That makes no sense in the Internet age, does it? But stop them anyway. June over at Bye-Bye Pie has alerted me to an all-important issue. Not just an everyday issue, right, June? Nor even an everyyear issue.

What will we be saying just a little over 24 hours from now? Hmmm? Or, more to the point, what should we be saying? Think about it.

Happy Two Thousand and Ten?

or

Happy Two Thousand Ten?

or

Happy Twenty Ten?

This happens to be the biggest year-changing issue we've had since Y2K; and I, for one, am appalled that our president is lolling on a beach in Hawaii rather than winging his way back to the Oval Office when this sort of controversy is raging. Does Obama really think that his Year-Naming Czar (he has one, doesn't he?) will bother to take care of this issue on his own? I mean, everyone knows (and by everyone, I mean this armchair president here) that phoning in from Hawaii just won't do. According to her, there's "a lot less pressure when the boss is away."

Honey, what do you think your supervisor thought when he read that line? Hmmm?

Personally? I can't imagine how a phone call from the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES wouldn't be a pretty darn good motivating factor in and of itself. I'm a tad irresponsible myself when it comes to my household duties. Look in on me any afternoon around 4 PM and I'm goofing off checking out the latest at the Women's Colony whilst my children play unattended outside. Dinner's not a-cookin', laundry's not a-washin', g's are being dropped everywhere....

So! Let's imagine the phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Please hold for the President of the United States." (Sound of surf pounding in the background)

I'm thinking I would immediately get off the computer and haul my butt into the kitchen, don't you? I wouldn't wait for the guy (or maybe his wife) to show up at my door to start looking busy. But then again, Cabinet-level appointees probably aren't as responsible as little ol' me. Nope. Slackers, every one of them. As soon as Obama leaves town, I bet their feet are up on their desks and they're spending their workdays trolling Facebook for old high school sweethearts. That Clinton chick? She just looks like a self-starter.

Janet Napolitano probably didn't even know about the would-be terrorist airplane bombing until she was asked to be a Fan of Jasper Schuringa. When the cat's away...

So, Mr. President! You need to get back home and answer the question - which is it?

A. Two Thousand and Ten

B. Two Thousand Ten

C. Twenty Ten


Our country awaits your decision...

(Feel free to vote in the comments, you non-POTUSes out there)

A Knitter's Christmas

I know! I haven't been around much. I've been obsessed by a handwarmer pattern in Chic Knits for Young Chicks - I had to reknit them a few times (altering the pattern) to get them to suit. See? Over there to the right? I actually finished them. I rarely finish things. Now I can type on my laptop in our freezing cold Starbucks without my fingers going numb.

And my socks! I'm still working on my purple Donegal socks. And the baby hat for my friend's one-year-old....and a poncho for Rachel. Of course, I ended up spending hours on Ravelry updating my projects file and researching patterns. For you non-knitters out there? A knitter cannot think of a more fun way to spend her Christmas. Strange, but true.

At the bookstore where I worked last year, we had 2 people who always hung out there (and never bought anything) that we called Boris and Natasha. She was Ukrainian, and he looked exactly like Boris. Freaky.

Why am I sharing this? Because we gave the kids 2 Rocky and Bullwinkle DVD's for Christmas. I don't know if they like them, but I can't get enough of Boris and Natasha myself.

We stuck to our tradition of watching It's A Wonderful Life on Christmas Day. Have I ever mentioned how much I love that movie? I mean, aside from the scene where Donna Reed is putting up wallpaper with 4 little ones underfoot, which is still a teeny-tiny bone of contention in our marriage. Larry and I are good at arguing over fictional characters like that.

Uncle Matt (who drove down with Grandpa on Christmas Day) arrived during the movie and said, "I've never seen this." The man's 50 years old. Where the hell has he been the past half a century?

That's me and Larry and 4 of our kids. Really. I look just like that. I mean, when I'm not looking like Mary Tyler Moore on the old Dick van Dyke show.

We all need our little fantasies, don't we?

Comic Relief

Thanks, Vodkamom, for sharing this comedy routine with all of us today! I don't know who this woman is, but I love her.

Back tomorrow, once I get over my current knitting jag...

Food Fight

As promised earlier this week, I am here to discuss why the Brits are mad at us (again). Long-time readers of this blog know that I am somewhat of a go-to blogger on any chocolate-related matters. It all started last year, when I alerted my readership to the threat of a potential candy bar shortage. Not only did I go on to decry the dangerous trend of gentrifying our chocolates, but I was also the blogger who revealed health care reform's hidden chocolate agenda.

You're welcome.

So! I feel it is my duty to inform you that we are facing an England-US dust-up which could make the Revolutionary War look like a lovers' quarrel. Apparently, the Brits are accusing the Americans of trying to take over their chocolate. That's right - both Kraft and Hershey are interested in acquiring Cadbury, the darling of the British chocolate industry.

What's wrong with that, you say? According to the Brits, just about everything. Apparently, our former fellow-countrymen believe that our chocolate confections are inferior to theirs. In fact, this article claims that they regard our beloved Hershey bars as tasting like "a mixture of soap powder and baby vomit."

Really, gentlemen! Tell us how you feel. Don't hold back.

Next thing you know, the Brits will be sneaking down to London harbor (if such a place exists) in the dark of night and throwing cases of Hershey bars overboard. Do we really want things to come to such a pass? Are we prepared to let our 2 countries be at odds for years or decades over such a matter? Remember - if we fight over chocolate, the terrorists win.

That's what I've heard, anyway.

Is Cadbury chocolate the taste of British childhood? Does Hershey market a product that tastes like baby vomit? Chocolatiers, spare the world the confectionery carnage of an international food fight by letting this impartial chocolate-blogging expert be the judge.

Send me a case of your finest confections. After sampling the chocolate-y concoctions, carefully, over a matter of weeks (well, maybe just days - I don't have much restraint), I'll get back to you (and the rest of the world) on their relative quality and pleasure-inducing potential. I will see to it that this matter is settled without bloodshed or violence.

I envision myself as the Mahatma Gandhi of chocolate. Except, um, not as skinny...and without the hunger strikes, of course....

Moral Dilemma

Larry and I finally made it to Target today, in a desperate bid to catch up on our long-forestalled Christmas shopping. We headed straight to the Nerf gun aisle, where I had seen Brian salivating over the N-Strike Maverick model with the rotating barrel. I put the coveted toy in my cart (only 10 bucks!) and then turned my attention to the display of ammunition refills.

"Hmmm, I don't know," I said to Larry. "Should we get the refill with 25 darts and the thing you sling over your shoulder to hold them?"

"The bandolier?" he said. "You can get a bandolier for Nerf darts?"

"Is that what it's called? I don't know if I like the look. Maybe I should just get the refill darts alone?"

"But those other refills don't have suction cups; it's velcro instead."

"Aaargh!" I said, staring at the packages of ammunition in my hands. "Why can't this be simpler? I don't know which to get!"

"Well," said Larry, "It is for Christmas. What would Jesus do?"

Good question...