MeSoFun Blog

I'm vaguely certain that this is the place my first chocolate lab, Duke, chased an antelope for about half a mile. The antelope was faster. Population of Rawlins, Wyoming: Fast antelope. It seems as though this blog will need a new name. There's no copyright infringement nor copywriting brilliance on the horizon that is necessitating this change. Instead, it appears we will be moving. I'm such a tease. That's all the information I have to share at the moment because everything is up in the air. I want to stress something right off the bat: I'm not dying to change the name of this blog. That is to say, I'm not dying to leave Maine. We like it here. Check that. I love it here. There's bacon-dusted french fries, lighthouses, great off-leash dog areas and an airport I can (and do) walk to from my house. And there's this . Thing is, we need a job, TW and I. One of us has to work. It's tragic, I know. What it boils down to at the moment is this score: Job

Let me just be clear: I love Hannaford supermarket. I've lived in six states with about a dozen grocery stores and it's the best. The hand is in the picture for scale, and to show off my dainty digits. Except for the salad containers and the customer service related to the salad bars. Yes, I'm back on this again because I got a subpar response from customer service. More on that in a minute. Let me explain the problem in graphic detail. I like to eat my vegetables in bulk, preferably with some bacon and feta cheese crumbles to make the medicine go down a little easier. Grocery stores aren't the greatest salad place s in the world, but they get the job done with their $5-a-pound services. The Hannaford containers suck. This isn't really about all that, but let me explain the threefold reasoning that has kept me from going to Hannaford. The containers aren't very big. That's the root of all evil in this situation. You simply can't fit THAT much salad into

I would totally win friends with this salad, minus the turnips. Salad containers. The highlight of my past few days, my highest personal achievement, was emailing the staff at my favorite grocery store about their salad containers. The problem, I explained, was that their containers are both too small and too crappy for my preference. You can't fit a whole ton of salad in the containers and the lid often pops off because you can't really crimp the metal sides of the container appropriately. Your salad containers suck, Hannaford. Aside from that, I don't have much to say for right now. "Right now" is becoming a shorter and shorter period of time as the weeks count down to TW's graduation date (May 20!). Change is coming. I'm not going into details other than to say it's quite possible we will be moving again and I could have to change the title of this blog. I have a funny way of counting down to important moments in life. Before I got married, the coun

That's Amy, the one with the funny hat on. What's with these hats, anyway? Why not a fedora? The Internets have big ears. But here we are. Almost a year ago , I offered advice and encouragement (in my own strange way) to the graduating PA class of 2012. The writing device I used was a very tongue-in-cheek method; it was on the assumption that I could or would be invited to speak at their graduation. It pays to dream big, people. OK. It's not exactly graduation. But I will be speaking to a couple hundred people on the eve of graduation. The PA school has its own curiously named "hooding ceremony" the night before general graduation. I have been asked to speak on behalf of spouses. There was some initial joking about including all the derivations of the word "suck" in my message to the graduating class. TW pointed out that she would like a more uplifting message. There was some thought given to presenting TW's description of PA school: "It's l