Showing posts with label wednesday whining. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wednesday whining. Show all posts

the last 168 hours ... - part ll

... sooo, I'm heading for Brooklyn and just about get to the Garden State Parkway which is about 10 minutes from my house when suddenly the skies turn black and a storm of pretty much Biblical proportions hits out of nowhere.

(a blinding rain, hail, end of the world type situation where sensible people pull over somewhere and wait it out, note - I am not a sensible person)

Actually pulling over is not really an option so I just inch along blindly with everyone else, hoping no one is dumb enough to actually stop and cause a 20 car pile up.

Within a few minutes either the skies have cleared or I have driven through the storm HALLELUJAH! - because the sun is shining again.

I relax.

I try to remember how long the Panera Bread ice tea in my console has been in my car and whether or not it is still safe to drink.

I recheck my mapquest directions and keep driving - thankful to be heading north when all the Friday traffic is heading south ...

until the traffic isn't anymore and I am inching along again.

I get on a highway somewhere at exit 5 or 7 and my mapquest directions tell me to get off at exit 28A, which I am thinking sounds pretty far since I am already passing a Welcome to Brooklyn sign but at least I'm in Brooklyn

(ex-home of the Dodgers, the bridge my great-grandfather once bought - for $17 and a pack of Lucky Strikes, Prospect Park, Coney Island, Junior's Cheesecake, Nathan's Hotdogs ... and Etsy)

so I feel some relief, but am still a little uneasy because the traffic looks endless and I have alot of exits to go before I hit 28A - by now it is about 6:00 (so much for girl math).

After another 30 minutes or so I am at about exit 15 and pass a Thanks for Visiting Brooklyn sign or a You Are Leaving Brooklyn sign or a Welcome to Queens sign or it may have just said You Have Gone Too Far Idiot - Turn Around NOW.

(if I was a cartoon, you would’ve heard the sound of a single percussive tinkle as I blinked at that sign)

I call my daughter and ask her to sign onto twitter and tweet the team that I will be late. I take the next exit, cursing out mapquest, pull into a parking lot and plug the Etsy address into my GPS.

(yes, I have a GPS and I know you are thinking, uh, why didn't you use that - well because #1. it screws up in cities and #2. it can't be programmed until the car is turned off - I guess the designers at Ford never stopped to think that one of their vehicles might have a person in them besides the driver who could safely program the thing while the car is moving, not that I had such a person, of course)

The good news is that I am out of the bumper to bumper stuff and moving along - the bad news is that sometimes my GPS is telling me to make a right when there is no right and sometimes it is telling me to make a left onto a oneway street going right and I have no phone number to call anyone and I am not exactly sure I am in Brooklyn anymore.

(where's Toto or wait Olive ... where's Olive ...)

I get stuck in traffic again at the Pace University graduation, where groups of tall, gorgeous women in blue graduation gowns are all over the street - if anyone knows where this would be let me know. Then I am in Chinatown, which even I know is not in Brooklyn, I think, and on Canal Street and seeing signs for the Holland Tunnel. It is 7:30.

I am now sitting in traffic for the tunnel and feel some strange sense of calmness surrounded by the other New Jersey license plates. I call my daughter and ask if anyone has tweeted her back (not that I thought anyone would be checking twitter messages). She says no so I tell her to just delete her tweet as I inch my way into the tunnel.

(back to New Jersey and into another traffic jam heading to the shore for the weekend)

I got home around 11:00. Hubby asked how the meeting went without glancing up from his book, which kind of annoyed me, so I just said fine, pretend strangled him behind his back and went to bed.

(plus I was a little pissed he hadn't insisted on playing Hoke to my version of Miss Daisy's declining years and prevented this entire fiasco)

So, that is the story of how Cat almost got to visit Etsy -

(and yes, I like to talk about myself in the 3rd person, except I usually say 'the Cat' ... drives Olive crazy)

the next day hubby had a breathing problem and chest pain at work and we ended up in the emergency room where he would spend the next 2 days - well, not in the emergency room although it felt like 2 days in the emergency room, but in the hospital, having every test in the book including a stress test that he totally aced - he is 100% OK thankfully - and being waited on hand and foot ... poor Olive ....

Have a wonderful weekend everyone - I will post the winner of the last 2 giveaways of the season on Monday morning! (to steal one from Sherry - kiss the ones you love)

xo

* wounded and abandoned umbrellas by cat eye photography
* traffic jam by lolas room
* let's find some beautiful place to get lost by I screen you screen

Look At Me ... if I stand on my head and don't tell anybody that I stood on my head - did I actually stand on my head?

When I was growing up we had self-esteem classes in school where we filled our notebooks with everything anyone would ever need to know about us -

they were like little prehistoric facebooks.

These classes were designed to increase our confidence and self-esteem and basically imprint us with the message that we were OK.

Today, it isn't enough for kids to hear that they are OK- they need to be "special".

(and maybe we are all feeling like this actually)

And parents are encouraged to increase our kids 'self-esteem' by affirming their 'specialness'.

My adorable little niece serenaded me recently with a song she learned in nursery school -

"I am special. I am special. Look at me. Look at me."

(sort of to the tune of the farmer in the dell if you are old enough to remember that one)

I told her that I knew a better song and sang her something like -

"I am nice. I am nice. I promise to stop kicking Aunt Cathy in the face as she tries to put on my shoes because I am nice."

She told me I was mean.

(which I am, so maybe she is special)


Her brother, who is a few years older was insisting I wanted to watch him play video games

(having been advised by him that my own video gaming skills were not quite up to the par of actually being able to play with him)

I tried to drag him away from his controller and do something with me.

He wasn't going for it.

I tried a new tactic.

"I like to make jewelry" - he glanced up at me wondering where this was going.

"Would you like to watch me make jewelry?"

"Oh, I thought you were going to make me something", he said

"No, I like to make jewelry - would you like to watch me make jewelry?", I repeated.

"Why would I want to watch you do that?"

"Well, why would I want to watch you play video games?"

He told me I was weird.

(which I am, so maybe he is especially astute also)

Of course, I remember when we were kids and my sister and I would drag my mother into our bedroom to watch us do 'gymnastics' on the beds - shouting "look at me, look at me", until my mother, bored and achy with tennis-neck would find some excuse to leave

She could have said something about how amazingly special this all was, but more likely she said something like -

"OK, enough girls, I'm tired of sitting here"

since neither of us became Olympic gymnastic champions, maybe she wasn't the best encourager of 'specialness' - on the other hand we did think we actually had to do something to warrant an audience.

Of course, playing a video game is doing something - I sure as hell can't do it very well.

(now we all just go on our Blogs or Facebook or Twitter and announce what we are doing)

Kids today have never known any other world and are certainly not to blame here, but all this 'specialness' is making me a bit uneasy about our future.

(or maybe I have just had too much coffee this morning and am way overthinking this)

* adorable Look at Me print by The Extent of Silence

I should also add that when I redid my blog the other day I went to set up a Facebook fan page and the name Olive Bites was already being used

(I was thinking what has Olive been up to now?)

and then I realized that I had set up a fan page almost a year ago and then I forgot all about it!

this DECIDING thing is a pain in the a--

So, my very first decision this year

(well, maybe not my first decision, I guess my first decision was to make more decisions)

was to take better care of myself

and part of this take better care of myself thing is to cut way back on diet soda.

And this is a very hard thing for someone who has believed since high school that calories should not be wasted on beverages unless those beverages are chocolate milkshakes or wine coolers.

So, I am transitioning over to unsweetened tea and the "w" word and skim milk and trying to stay sane with a lowered caffeine intake all the while conjuring up images of myself doing backflips and benchpresses at 80 because I will have these amazing bones that will not have had all the calcium leached out of them from another few decades of diet pepsi.

I bought a beautiful glass pitcher to keep cold water in my studio - something about seeing that crystal clear water and the sound of the water as I pour it just makes me happy and makes me feel all healthy and grown up and very much a decision maker.

Now, this is a process

(I'm not exactly going cold turkey here - maybe more like warm chicken)


although I have crossed a little something off my mental checklist.

Don't worry though there are many, many more things for me to be working on like writing the great American mystery novel

(whose protagonist is a crafty mom whipping up recycled valentine's by day and solving the puzzling disappearance of the mailman between dinner and bedtime)

and learning how to make donuts like the girls of Madderroot and doing the laundry without tripping over it for a week first

(have I mentioned the laundry "room" - ie tiny little corridor holding the washer and dryer - is right outside my studio door - this seems like bad feng shui to me although it does come in handy when I get cold and need a sweater as long as I don't mind that the sweater has food stains and smells a little bit like wet dog ... which I don't)

but I'm up for the challenge. Life is short and moves fast, folks. And I have a lot of decisions to make this year ....

*here's the dilemma penguin by living feral

Whining Wednesday - stuff that is stressing me out, will be stressing me out or had been stressing me out

1. The current stress - I am just a few weeks away from my first ever trade shows and I am suddenly realizing that I have a gazillion things to do and no time to do them.

So, if you pop over here and see no posts feel free to envision me in some kind of manic craziness where I am subsisting largely on the kind of cellophane-wrapped mistakes only available at my local Wawa -

deliriously humming the theme song from the Titanic - did I tell you the first said trade show is called Pool - as in someone please throw me a life preserver, you get the picture - and barking orders at my assistant; ie Olive, who is actually the only one around here who can get anything done.


And that these tradeshows, added to my normally massive amount of personal issues and annoyances have created an overdose type of situation where I am either manic or catatonic but either way unable to sign into blogger.

Please forgive me when this happens. I see it coming. I have taken on too much and unwisely used my time watching the Real Housewives of New Jersey and New York and all the other housewives that don't seem to ever have any type of actual homemaking responsibilties, but like car crashes are hard to resist watching.

And yes, the tradeshow design above looks amazing, but nothing like the real thing which is actually still a figment of my imagination, too, but luckily I have always been very good with a deadline.

(I just hope the word dead isn't the word I will be using to explain the final outcome).

2. The old stress - After many weeks The Artisans Collective website is launched!

My brother and I designed this site and even though some of the potential bells and whistles had to be trashed, it keeps the form and function of its intention and can't help but be beautiful with all the amazing artists on this incredible team. I am loving it!

(although I do worry a bit about their sanity for letting me anywhere near this website, no clue why they thought I could do this- I guess because I said I could, silly artists)

3. The future stress - ok, so you may remember the crop circle incident of last month and also my failure to get the documentary evidence that some demanded requested

(my excuse - it happened at dusk, it didn't occur to me and by the time I saw the potential for a Wednesday whine in it - everything was blown around)

but, since we have been fairly convinced this was a squirrel/corn take-down situation I have been on the lookout for any signs of unusual super squirrel activity to try and track down the culprit.


Now, I realize these are not the best images, but I was working through a window which may not have been cleaned in a while due to all my Real Housewives watching the work I've been doing lately.

The squirrel got the lid off the trash can, ripped open the trash bag, grabbed an entire slice of cheese pizza, dragged the pizza across the yard and up a tree (where the cheese likely got stuck on the branch) - a couple hours later it was gone, so I'm sure Super Squirrel got a couple other members of her Super Squirrel posse to give her a hand and they got it unstuck.

I think the Super Squirrel situation here in New Jersey

(which may or may not be connected to the superfund clean up site designation of our local gas station)

is creating crop circle making, pizza stealing, Linda Blair head spinning

(I forgot to mention that when Super Squirrel looked up at me through the window she gave me a freaky Exorcist head twist that had me grabbing a pair of scissors and my neighbor's 12 year old son before I ventured outside)

super rodents (and yes, squirrel lovers, squirrels are rodents, I looked it up) that may be plotting some type of backyard takeover we had better all be ready for.

Also I have poison ivy that hasn't gone away in a month and I guess I have to give up and see a doctor and I can't help but think there is some kind of Super Squirrel connection in this, too. I am sure some research on my part, which I am way too lazy busy to do right now, would tell me that squirrels are impervious to poison ivy

and since these Super Squirrels spend alot of time outside my bedroom window, they have had plenty of opportunities to stuff some poison ivy leaves into the air conditioner or something equally clever ... sigh

Now, there are some positive things about stress, like the kind of endorphins, serotonin and dopamine rush that athletes get and I am sure this will be kicking in for me ... any day now ... in the meantime I better get my head back into my linesheets and my eyes on Super Squirrel ...

Value Pricing for the Designer/Maker - something else to whine about on Wednesday

As makers we typically underprice ourselves. Several factors have converged on me lately that have forced me to relook at my pricing.

I did my taxes- ugh!

My online retail prices are forcing me into lower wholesale price points than I can work with as the wholesale percentage of my business grows.

And, I read an article about my work that said I "simply solder" a little eyehook to a car part with a soldering iron and visit a hardware store.

Now the writer of that article was talking about ingenuity and simplicity in form and function and meant no disrepect to me or my work, but it did make me realize that my price points and my own language about my process (I have never used a soldering iron in my life) reflected a certain value to her.

(it is totally up to me as a maker working with recycled and lower cost materials to educate people about the process that goes into each piece and the design behind the piece that adds to that value)

as well as the fact that "simple" design leaves the maker with no place to hide imperfections and isn't usually anywhere near as "simple" as it appears

Pricing our work is a complicated part of this handmade journey and a process for most of us.

Mistakes I've made with my pricing:

1. I did not think about wholesale pricing when I set my retail prices.

2. I set my prices based on my own pocketbook (which was likely empty at the time; it usually is)

and 3. Because I am related to a talented artist and could not see myself in the same way- I didn't understand my own skill set.

Bottom line- I didn't see my own value. And, I didn't see the potential wholesale problems with my pricing.

The mistakes I made are all about my own mindset and I have been adjusting them over time ever since.

I would say to hubby- but I can make X amount in X amount of time and he would say, "right, because you have done this thousands of times, other people can't- your customer can't".

As you become better and better at what you do, you will usually get faster and more productive. Does the fact that you work faster mean that you should charge less? Where else do we expect to pay less for experience?

This is why you can't just calculate your actual production time (although you must know how long things take you to produce).

And what about all the time it takes to do the kind of things we need to do to grow our businesses- how do we calculate that time in, when it is often more time than the actual making?

Factoring in our direct costs (raw materials), indirect costs (taxes, overhead, fees, etc) and labor time for each piece (production, marketing, packing, shipping, etc) is a good place to start with our pricing.

And then we need to take a look at the more complex issue of value.

Pricing needs to take into account all these varied aspects.

What is the value of your work to the customer?

Maybe starting at the end zone is a good idea -

(and working through a pricing exercise)

the price my item would sell for in a retail store that my target customer would be shopping in.

Value will take into account what other items are selling for in the marketplace, the uniqueness and skill set of our work and materials and the fact that our work is handmade and designed.

(we need to factor in costs and labor time when pricing our handmade work and we need to think about value, too - what is the value to our customer?)

I recently asked a few boutique owners (that I do not wholesale with, but have my target customer) what my product would sell for in their shops. I would recommend this if you struggling with the value component of your productline.

I will likely need to reduce costs by 10-15% and increase prices by 10-20% to get to a place where I can focus on wholesale. I want to stay fair to my retail customers (by doing what I can to reduce costs and expenses), but learn to be fair to myself, too.

One easy fix - in my Polarity shop I have always charged less for my small lockets even though they cost me exactly the same amount and take me exactly the same amount of time to make as the regular size locket.

A customer buying a medium size shirt in a department store would not expect to pay more than someone buying a small shirt. It is me who has trained my customer to see this as the way it should be by the way I have set up my pricing. No one buys my smaller locket because it costs less- they just want a smaller locket.

(and I will also be changing the wording in my locket listings from "I solder" to I clean, drill, braze with a flame at 800 degrees, grind, paint, polish and seal - well, maybe not exactly that- I don't want to put anyone to sleep, but maybe something that reflects the actual nature of the work a little bit better)

*sigh*

Whining Wednesday or as my car might tag me these days STINKEEGRL


Whine 1 - Our credit card company raised our interest rate to something like 26 gazillion for absolutely no reason.

(well, no reason that has anything to do with us anyway)

Confidential to Chase - instead of the minimum payment this month, I'll be mailing in a bag of used wine corks and an autographed doodle of a sad face, hope that is o.k.

Whine 2 - About a month ago I started finding these strange moth things in my studio and bedroom (which is directly over the studio). At first it was random enough to not bother me, but then one night last week, we had two of these little creatures flying into the bedroom lights.

They don't bite (thankfully) and are not very smart or fast-moving, but you cannot squash them because they emit some foul smelling substance when you do.

I had never even heard of such critters and admit I had flattened a couple and didn't notice any odd smell before hubby screamed, "Stop!" -

(I was about to flatten one with his beloved Farmer's Almanac)

and then he told me the 'stinkbug story'.

They are also known as shieldbugs and if George had called them shield bugs (or if they had been a pretty green like shown here instead of looking like creepy gray alien spaceships) I might not be as freaked out. I have moved everything in both rooms, checked all the window cracks and can't figure out how they are getting in.

Hubby says, "maybe they are not getting in because they are already in", which really freaked me out and has me shining a flashlight into my boots before putting my feet in them every morning.

We hate the idea of pesticides and exterminators, but we may have to take some kind of action soon.

(or start a little stink-bug circus sideshow to pay off Chase)

Whine 3 - My memory is totally disappearing.

When I'm driving and think of an idea for a project or blog post (or whine), I have a tendency to write down a key word on a snippet of paper

(yes, I know how dangerous this is ... mainly because I could spill my scalding hot coffee and that would interrupt my cell phone conversation)

and then write the whole thing down later. This morning I found a gas receipt from Friday on which I had scribbled:

Hipster
Chess
That guy's feet

If anyone has any idea what the hell I was thinking, please contact me.

Whine 4 - Vanity license plates have taken over New Jersey - neighbors, friends, everyone is feeling the need to tell me a little something about themselves with their car tags. I have never understood why anyone would pay additional money to outfit their Ford Taurus with a "UGOGURL" license plate.

I think they are just plain yucky.

(if you have a really cool one, let's hear about it, maybe you can change my mind)


Mainly there are 3 reasons I would never have one:

Hit. And. Run.

If someone remembers seeing a light blue Escape in the vicinity, well, that could be just about anybody, but I guarantee some meddling eagle-eyed eyewitness would recall a "CORKYMUM" or an "UPCYCLEGRL" mowing down that Scout troop.

P.S. To clarify, I don't actually talk and drive as this is illegal in New Jersey.

(and, no one calls me anyway)

Whine 5 - Hubby and I recently visited an 84 year old neighbor to check out his amazingly impressive coin collection. He also has quite the library although 99% of the shelves are filled with books related to the value of coins. We noticed at the far right of the middle shelf a gigundo tome titled, "Secrets to Great Sex" and right beside it was a smaller book called, "Guide to Better Public Speaking".

At first we were a bit shocked,

(I mean, we didn't know he did any public speaking)

but then it all began to make sense, because if I were 84 and still having sex

(and I mean anything even slightly involving friction with another person who was not my paid caregiver)

I would tell absolutely everyone about it.

Guy behind counter: "May I help you?"
Me: "I am 84 and am still having sex. Yes, that kind of sex."
Guy behind counter: "This is the post office."
Me: "A book of stamps, please."

Then I would hobble over to my SXYGRNDMA car and drive home to train my stinkbugs.

I Know It's Veteran's Day but I'm gonna whine anyway...because it's Wednesday

This weekly whining may be getting old, but now that I am becoming more alert for things to whine about

they are everywhere


Whine 1 - I've talked before (I think) about wanting a new bike and my run ins with the 'twig man' - our local bike seller and mechanical guru who has 'classic' bicycles all over his front yard (ie patch of dirt in front of his house).

I finally got up my nerve to approach twig man again. I had questioned him once before about his bike prices- but he just kind of muttered, "What do you want to spend?" between spits of the twig he was chewing on which made me realize I never think in terms of how much I can spend.

(probably why I have no money)

Anyhoo, I've been eyeing a green one-

(I guess it had a make or model of something or other, but more importantly the green one would kind of match my new scarf pattern and I could kind of picture myself riding around on it.)

So, twig man breaks off a new piece of branch for our walk and we head over to his 'bicycle testing area' which is an empty parking lot right in the center of town that has been roped off, so people can't drive through it or park in it - yes, I live in a town that does stuff like this

and I am riding back and forth, but feel I need to take this little baby out on the open road so I head out of the 'bicycle testing area' and onto a back street.

Suddenly, I hear a car coming up behind me and for reasons I can't quite remember, I feel I need to get out of this car's way- probably because

1) it was going roughly 10MPH and
2) there was literally no other car for miles

I went up onto the curb.

(and when I say I went up onto the curb I mean I, the bike stayed on the road)

I have no idea what happened, but I couldn't get up over the curb. Aren't you supposed to be able to ride up over a curb? I mean, I know you're thinking of course not, but this was a little, bitty driveway curb that I am fairly certain I have seen 3 year olds tricycling over while I've sat in the bank drive up line.

I started wobbling, I thought, "OH NO this is it. I'm going over." And WHAM - I was on the ground.

I landed with full force on my right knee, elbow and both hands. Here are the thoughts I had in the order in which I had them:

* Holy crap, Cat!

* Holy crap that car is going to stop and check on me, aren't they?
How embarrassing- this is horrible!

* Holy crap where is the car? Oh - it turned before it even got to me.

* Holy crap did anyone see me?

* Holy crap my knee hurts. I don't know if I can get up.

* Holy crap did I rip my jeans?

* OK, I didn't rip my jeans. Thank God. These are the ones that fit me.

* OK, get up, get back on the bike and ride away like nothing happened.

* I want my mommy.




It was kind of like this -----> but without the actual race and the racing equipment and the racers chasing me



The bottom line is that twig man is now fixing up this bike for me- the crash may have done a little bit of damage and I still don't know how much it is going to cost me

(but like I said I don't think about things like this anyway)

Hubby, of course, asked why I wasn't wearing my helmet

(as if I was going to run around with helmet-hair for the rest of the day, for pete's sake)

of course, I don't have a helmet yet because I don't have a working bicycle yet

He said twig man should supply them to bicycle testers and he got kind of a far off look in his eyes when he said this - as if he was picturing a lawsuit payout where we win a collection of 'classic' bicycles and twig man's tasty maples.

I am remembering Sherry Truitt's post about a spill and her later triumph behind the handlebars, so I am hoping the same will be true for me when twig man gets my bike to me- in the meantime my knee still hurts but I am trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing

(hold me)

Whine 2- I'll keep this one short since if you are still awake after my bicycle whine you probably want to get out of here by now.

Hubby blew our chances for any more free food at Chipotles, like forever.

I love Chipotles. I know it's a chain and chain's are bad (usually), but I just can't help it.

(even though they do make this big deal about recycling those little baskets- that we would never throw out anyway and they allow everyone to toss the plastic silverware- what's up with the plastic silverware Chipotles?)

We sometimes go on Tuesday nights and if we get there very late the guy there gives me free food. And I say me because when we walk in, hubby heads to the napkin/condiment bar and gets our supplies

(I swear he is about 2 years away from sitting on a mall bench with two guys named Arthur and Harry and holding my handbag while I shop)

and then he grabs a table

(this is the way- he puts it- grabs a table- although there are usually 3 other people in the place and about 50 empty chairs)

so anyhoo, the guy there always gives me free chips and guac and last week hubby totally blew it because instead of grabbing a table he got in line with me and before the guy had a chance to give us any freebies George said

"what- no freebies?"

and the guy just gave us a blank stare and no guac and chips and then again this week 'no freebies'

which hubby claims is ok because he didn't feel comfortable with the guy giving me free stuff anyway

(as if we were going to owe this guy a very big favor and he would oneday come to collect on our 62 free guac and chips that had accumulated into the exact value of George's dirtbike)

so I am left forking over $3.99 for the guac and chips

(not that I think about such things)

and feeling irked that George couldn't have just grabbed us a table and let me keep on getting my freebies

(like forever)

or until I get sick of bringing home my dirty silverware.

It's Whining Wednesday

So ... before I abandon another 'series' of posts after just one post

(and because this series is just so easy to write)

I think I should whine another Wednesday.

1st whine- Hubby got sick and blew off both our Halloween invites. He made an amazing recovery the very next day and I think his "24 hour (ie collapse on the bed and shiver) flu"

had more to do with his total lack of pop culture references and insistence that he has never heard of Kanye West or Taylor Swift and that I could be making the whole thing up so I would get to wobble around in heels and carry a soccer trophy

(well, that did sound like fun)

2nd whine - I hate this whole daylight savings time thing. I do like getting up in the morning when it is light out, although it has been pretty much cloudy here for a month so the only light is the compact fluorescents in the bathrooms

(btw- if you have one of those bathroom mirrors surrounded by light bulbs and you only screw in every other bulb you will have yourself some very flattering lighting and in fact will never need any anti-aging cream because you will have an anti-aging mirror, at least in my opinion- every couple years you can just unscrew another bulb)

I hate that it is dark out so early at night now ... and cold ... I hate that it is dark and cold so early. Because to me dark and cold means the day is over - grab a blanket, hunker down.

(and yes, I have been known to take down the phone number for the Snuggie ... every time it is on)

I don't get much done at night now and I really just want to drink hot liquids and read my library books. So, because my day ends earlier it needs to start earlier so I can squeeze everything in which means I have to get up at 5 and that means I am getting up in the dark ... again.

Final whine- I love Williams Sonoma - I don't always buy anything there, but I like to make some pre-holiday visits and see what kind of goodies they are cooking up with their mixes and sauces and dips and such.

But this little guy has made me question their product designers.

I mean, they were considerate enough not to add a face that you would have to smash down on a hot casserole dish, but I'm wondering if they actually put one of these to use before the big roll out-

(or is my mind the only one going to these places)

to actually use Mr. Gingerbread Man (and I am assuming a male here because the alternative would be even more upsetting to me) you need to seriously violate his no-no place.

The bad news is that I burnt the cookies. The good news is that his prostate is just fine.