All the news that is news.

Leo the gold-plated cat continues his reign as King House Cat. He is in as much as he is out, but as long as we don’t have a recurrence of mice in the house because he’s getting too lazy, I’m going to put up with it.

Thought I’d make my bed, but I was wrong. The cat is patient even when literally smothered with love.
(Those are Garfield books, incidentally. I’m told he needed to read in bed.)

Once in a while I luck out with a deal on afternoon snacks on Amazon Warehouse. The other day I found some Chips Ahoy family size packages for a little over a dollar apiece, and even if they are a little plasticky tasting, that’s hard to beat, and a couple cookies make a great partner for that apple that is otherwise enormously boring. Warehouse deals have a lock on randomness, for sure. My favorite search result today is a single bag of microwave popcorn for $10.95. Hey, it’s Prime shipping, so … yeah.

One of the kids asked yesterday why we don’t use napkins. It might be because we are heathens. (No, this has a real answer, which is that I don’t like paper waste and also don’t like laundry, so my people can simply learn to eat neatly, amen.) (I suspect this rationale doesn’t make us any less heathen.)

Perhaps you’ve heard that Garth Brooks is planning to play at Memorial Stadium. (Is there anyone in Nebraska who hasn’t heard that?) A girl has to be awfully careful around here when poking fun at Nebraskans’ affinity for all things Husker, but sometimes a girl also just wants to say what she thinks, which in this case is: If we can’t have the return of the best football of all time, we may as well have an installment of the return of the best entertainer of all time.

I’ve recently spent a little money frivolously. I’m just not very good at frivolous spending, and this definitely reminded me why I don’t do it.

First, Dolly Parton’s new perfume. You can buy a sample of it for ten bucks. (Free shipping, just like that popcorn pack on Prime.) I kind of like perfume, though I know that most of it makes my eyes hurt like mad. Sadly, I can’t detect the citrus that supposedly is the base of this scent and also, true to form, it makes my eyes hurt like mad.

The good side of that experiment: My scent memory that coincidentally is associated with this perfume is my late grandmother’s post-bath dusting powder. (I’d like to meet a single-digit-year-old kid who can resist when faced with the mysterious novelty of a powder puff and enabled by a bathroom door that both closes and locks.) This was a long-forgotten thing that I’m glad to remember. I imagine I got in trouble, but that part I don’t remember, so we’re good.

Second frivolous expenditure: A 50-cent trial to Noom. It’s promoted on at least half the podcasts I listen to. I decided that at that price — only one-twentieth the price of the perfume! — I could surely satisfy my curiosity. I’m not thrilled. I need simple accountability, not something that is going to be an endless list of “tap to continue lesson” segments that feel a whole lot like something trying to trap my attention in some kind of marketing ploy.

Noom claims to use psychology and, indeed, yes — it’s like binge-watching Netflix. But if I were to get the ear of a real human in charge there, I’d suggest it use it for good, not for making me look at my screen a lot more.

To close, a book recommendation for adults:

“Mom, why did you put a library book on the ground?” Maybe we are less heathen than I thought.

I read mostly fiction; Jeremy reads mostly nonfiction. This book was my selection, but he picked it up out of curiosity and rapidly read the whole thing, then told me I had to read it (and it was good he did because the trajectory as it related to my work and the book’s due date wasn’t favorable). It is very convincing. This is fiction of the type that you really wish weren’t mostly imaginary. The main character is an old-school journalist, which is always interesting to me (and yet also something that I very much am not). Well worth your time.

p.s. I hope you know the song.

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