One & Done Sunday #24

Hey. It’s One and Done Sunday. One picture, and five links that are worth your time.

It’s been very quiet around here this weekend. The men were away on a Scouts campout and #1 was gone as well. I let everybody else sleep in , including the dogs. The TV wasn’t on. I didn’t have to break up any fights.

Nobody complains while they’re asleep.

CC and #5 returned from their trip just a while ago. Apparently CC indoctrinated #5 into the family mantra this weekend (Life grades on a curve, in case you were wondering).

#5: Hey, you know what Dad told me about bears?

Me: What?

#5: He said you don’t have to run faster than the bear. You just have to run faster than the other campers.

Words to live by.

Here’s your picture. We have two utility cars: a mini van and one of those sedans that is so nondescript I can only find it in a parking lot by our license plate. Then there’s Miss Lucy, my ’66 Mustang convertible. I drive her whenever I can. There are only two situations in which I prefer not to drive her. One is rain.

The other is when I have to do the Costco run.

Now for your links.

So this dude skydived (skydove?) from space last Sunday. For reasons I can’t quite fathom, there are people arguing about it. One side accuses it of being irrelevant while we live in a world with all these basic human rights violations; another side claims superiority for science while blaming all human rights violations on religion. I would like to present all of these people with a Douchebag award for making a political issue out of skydiving. From space.

Look, some people are really good at stopping crimes against humanity. Other people are really good at jumping from outer-freaking-space with a parachute. Both are heroes. Both demand balls of steel.

Felix Baumgartner has them. This link has some great pictures, plus a couple videos including the entire thing condensed into a minute and a half. I think it’s amazing. The Blaze: Felix Baumgartner’s Historic Red Bull Stratos Skydive.

Yeah, Red Bull. They financed the whole thing. Talk about taking marketing to new heights. . .

Speaking of marketing, you may have seen Dove’s Real Beauty campaign. You may have wondered how real it is. Here’s a real person I know writing a real story on her very real blog as part of it. It’s on her teenage girls and self-esteem: Inspiring Beauty at Life Well Blended.

Funny. The debate, in stills, with irrelevant but oh-so-fitting captions from The Good Greatsby: The Presidential Debate on Mute.

I loved this post from Growing Grace Farms: Lessons Learned: Farming Boots and Defining Ourselves.

I love these pictures. The Full Punch: 20 Truly Weird But Awesome Photos.

Happy Sunday.

Milkshakes

We got Jack and Casey as puppies when they were seven weeks old.

They spent a lot of time in the kitchen because it was the only room we could completely make safe and secure. Plus it had a tile floor for easy cleanup, if you know what I mean. We gradually enlarged their inside world by blocking off larger sections of the house for them to explore while we were with them.

One night I was home with the kids and we had movie night. I made popcorn and milkshakes. I don’t remember what we were watching. The puppies were sniffing around the living room. At that time, they still fit under most of the furniture so there was a lot for them to check out. We had a green trunk that we used as a coffee table. Some of us set our milkshakes upon it.

The thing about puppies, unlike kittens, is that they’re not normally quiet. Stealth is a quality dogs generally lack. I rely on my hearing more than anything to make sure my dogs aren’t getting into something they’re not supposed to. It’s not rocket science; even small dogs lumber.

But this night? My puppies were ninjas.

I got up to go back into the kitchen and turned around. There, on the trunk directly behind me, was a heavy glass that had formerly contained a milkshake, lying on its side. The contents spilled across the trunk and two puppies were silently slurping up the dregs. Chocolate, of course.

This was the first of many times to come where we were hipped to the teamwork that is possible between a couple of puggles that bonded in the womb.

twins — The only two in the litter. Can you tell?

In my mind, I picture Casey getting Jack to crouch down while she tipped the glass over onto him so that it didn’t crash. Then licking up any milkshake that spilled on his back. It sounds like something she’d do.

I can only imagine what it must be like to have twin humans.

One & Done Sunday #23

Hey.

It’s One & Done Sunday.

One picture, and five links that are worth your time.

My last remaining active addiction is sweets. Considering how many bakeries and ice cream shops and donut ice cream shops and crap there are within a three-block radius of my work, I do pretty well. I hold out most of the time. A significant improvement from ten years ago, when I used to have dessert with every meal including breakfast.

But every so often I break.

I snuck out to Donna Bell’s Bake Shop yesterday. This was after my husband and I had dinner between shows, after he had dropped me back off at my stage door and I was saying how I was going to go write or nap or some other bullshit. I knew exactly where I was going.

Donna Bell’s is cool because it’s unpredictable. It’s tiny, they have different selections every day, and sometimes they open late and close early. Sometimes you go and the cases are full and there are no customers. But it’s partly owned by some famous and unusual looking actress with whom I am unfamiliar, so sometimes you go and there are three tour busses full of folks buying them out of cupcakes.

I was hot for a peanut butter cookie-wich. I figured if I went and there was a giant line, or else if they didn’t have the cookie-wiches, then it would be a sign to me and I would leave, empty-handed.

There was no line.

I scanned the case and determined there were, in fact, no cookie-wiches. My eyes laid upon the Pumpkin Pie Bar (with cheesecake strudel). Intriguing, but not what I was after.

I turned to go.

But then The Oak Ridge Boys’ Elvira came on the music system. It’s a song that has been inexplicably stuck in my head this week and I knew it could only mean one thing: God wanted me to have that Pumpkin Pie Bar. He was speaking to me through the Oak Ridge Boys.

God has good taste.

I have the picture to prove it:

Here are your links:

Please don’t tell #5, but there’s a bacon shortage. Here are 25 things that helped cause it.

On the Importance of Saying “Thank You”- Broadside Blog.

In the 1860’s, Timothy O’Sullivan took some amazing frickin’ pictures of the American West, documenting as American government workers explored the western state. Holy crap these are cool! Check out this article in the Daily Mail.

And because it made me happy, another Daily Mail article: Cat Pirates.

This is an excellently written controversial article that came out in The Atlantic in June titled Why Women Still Can’t Have it All. It’s long. Read it. There will be a follow up post on it later.

Happy Sunday.