where's the beef?

I have a pretty hard and fast rule about attending 'parties' that sell things.  I don't go.  I am also very reluctant to buy things from door-to-door sales people (my apologies to the very nice Asian women selling egg rolls from the trunk of her car).  I am gracious up to the point that they get obnoxious and then all bets are off.  With a quick "no", "thank you for stopping" (now get off my porch), "do you have a business license for Provo", I close my door and they're on their way.


As with all of life, there are some exceptions.

Last year I needed a gift for someone who has everything and so I agreed to my second Cutco Knife demonstration.  I saw it as a win/win.  I really like the young person selling the knives and I thought a $60 paring knife would be the perfect gift.  I sat through the demonstration, ordered the knife, put Amie one demonstration closer to quitting her sales job and presented Bonnie with the perfect gift (unfortunately, she already owns the perfect knife but I'm holding out hope that she will leave me the second knife in her will).

Last night as I used my $2.99 grocery store paring knife to cut up tomatoes for dinner, I realized that I will probably be able to go through life just fine without a Cutco knife unless . . . I plan to start serving cut up pennies or rope for dinner because we all know you need a Cutco paring knife to do that.

{love}

Love one another

and

you will be happy,

it is as simple

and as difficult

as that.

- Michael Leunig -

Jensen & Brad - March 2011

{s}NO{w}!!!

Saturday . . .

Sunday . . .

To:  Mother Nature
From:  Me
REALLY!?!


I don't know much but I do know this - I would not make a good Alaskan/Norwegian/Siberian/North Poleian/Anywhere North of Provonian.  This has been a loooonnnnggggg winter!  I think my mental fingernails are worn out from 'hanging on'.  Come to think of it, that kitty poster - the one with the kitty hanging on to the rope - has always bugged me a little bit.  I think a picture of some glorious chocolate would be much more motivating.  And could they come up with a different acronym for Seasonal Affective Disorder?  Do we really need to call it SAD?


Well, I'm off to dig out the snow shovels.  An optimistic Mr. W. put them away yesterday.