Halloween Spookiness

Earlier today, I heated up some pita bread in my microwave. The microwave worked fine, and the pita was good, thanks for asking.

This evening, I decided to heat up a frozen main dish (much more satisfying than a frozen entrée, since that of course is only an appetizer). I opened the microwave door, put in the frozen item, closed the door, and the microwave came on. I thought, "Oh, I must have accidentally pressed a button when I closed the door; I'll have to press stop/clear and set it for the correct time." But the stop/clear button doesn't work, and neither do any of the other buttons. My microwave now seems to have only two settings: door open=off (with light on); door closed=on (with options for possibly exploding at any moment; I haven't left it running long enough to find out).

So I unplugged it (mercifully, it does turn off when unplugged, leaving some hope that the demons have not yet completely taken it over) and will apparently need to go buy a new microwave tomorrow. This makes me very sad, because I love my microwave very much--it has lots of cool settings, which they probably don't make any more. I assume that in post-modern America, one can only buy an iWave, which uses music to cook food and is not compatible for PC users.

And how did my microwave get broken from closing the door?! It's all very scary.

American Again

I'm not sure if it's the water, the Diet Coke, or maybe just the air, but after four months back in the U.S. of A., my American consumerism gene has definitely been reactivated: today I bought a pack of Shamwows!

For the past few weeks, I've been bravely resisting the urge to dial the 800 number whenever the commercial for this amazing new product came on TV, but today I was in Target, and the boxes were right there, on the "Seen on TV" aisle endcap, calling out to me. I know for certain that this product was meant just for me, because:

1. The box contained not just 4 regular size Shamwows! but also, as a special bonus, 4 smaller Shamwows!, and the guy on TV said that this amazing offer was only available for people who called in the next 2 hours, because he couldn't give that kind of deal all day long. But he made it available just for me, at my local Target store.
2. As I was standing there, studying the box (I'm not making this up), a woman walked past and whispered in my ear, "Those towels are great!" I'm not sure, but I think her eyes may have glowed red when she said it. (Okay . . . that last part, I made up.)

I haven't tried the Shamwow! yet, but when I do, I just know I'll say WOW everytime!

On Winter Darkness

In a comment to my post yesterday, one of my ever-helpful readers suggested that I need to start getting ready for the "very long, very cold, very dark winter" in Minnesota. He's definitely right about the long and the cold, but some of you may be surprised to learn that Paris actually has fewer hours of daylight in the winter than Minnesota does. Why is this? If you study the map below or one like it, you may be able to find two reasons. (Native Observation: A Place for Learning!)

Apocalypse Soon

In an act which surely portends the End of the World, on September 30, I joined a gym. I apologize for not telling you sooner, but I rationalized that joining a gym is not the same as actually going to the gym, so there was no need to worry you unnecessarily.

But today, October 23 (24 days after joining)*, I went to the gym and engaged in actual physical activity for the first time. So you'll probably want to start getting your affairs in order and telling those close to you that you love them. Also, if someone could check in on me tomorrow and make sure that I can still move, that would be nice. Walking around the pool a couple of times really takes it out of a girl!

On the other hand, there were a couple of cute guys in the aqua aerobics class, so this working out thing might not be so bad after all. Strong emphasis on the might.

*In addition to all the stars aligning perfectly between my house and the gym today, my father's release from the hospital yesterday removed my oh-so-valid excuse of not being able to go to the gym because I always needed to be ready to race down to Mankato at any moment. "I can't possibly go somewhere where I'll get sweaty or be in water," I'd think. "No, it's best to stay at the ready here at home, sitting in my easy chair, watching another CSI marathon. With a box of Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies near at hand, for quick energy. Not to mention creamy numminess."**

**In a completely unrelated story, I somehow seem to have gained 10 pounds since I moved to Minnesota. I just can't figure out how that happened. It's an unsolved mystery, worthy of CSI!

Tragedy and Triumph

My perusal of international flight timetables this evening* has revealed horrible news: as of October 1, Northwest Airlines has cancelled its direct flight between Minneapolis-St. Paul and Paris. The availability of this single direct pathway to my Nirvana was key to my decision to relocate to Minnesota. I was considering starting to unpack some boxes today, but I guess I'll have to wait a bit longer, since I might need to move back to Paris now.

I would bemoan at great length this dark cloud in my life, but after 40 days in the hospital, my dad got to go home today, and that rainbow outglows everything else right now.


*Isn't this what everyone does with their spare time? If not, please comment on your favorite time-wasters!

New Home, New Spam

Before I moved to Minnesota, I did not get e-mail from Plow & Hearth catalog. Coincidence?

Minnesota Things

A few random observations after my first three months here:

1) They play a lot of Prince on the radio. (Those of you not from Minnesota should know that Prince is.)

2) "Minnesota Nice" is not just a myth.
- If someone so much as brushes against you when they pass you in a crowded store aisle, you get the kind of profuse apology that, in other places, you only get when someone runs over your puppy. (This probably explains why for the last 14 years in NY, DC, and Paris, it's made me so unreasonably angry when someone bumps into me without even saying "excuse me": here where I grew up, invading someone's personal space is practically a felony.)

- When you're driving, if you turn on a blinker to signal an upcoming lane change, the car in the next lane will often slow down to let you in. The other day, I was discussing this with my best friend from high school, who now lives in New York. We both agreed that at first, this phenomenon is so disconcerting that we didn't even change lanes, assuming that it could only be some kind of Machiavellian ploy on the part of the other driver.

3) There are many people of Scandinavian descent here.
- Long ago at my very Norwegian, very Lutheran college, a classmate shared a very funny anecdote of going to a wedding in New York. Most of the guests were what she described as mafioso types, and she said that a woman came up to her and complimented her hair, asking how she had it done. The classmate shrugged and told the woman it was just a normal bob, nothing special. The woman said, "No, I mean the color." When the classmate replied that the color was natural, the woman looked stunned and then said, "Where are you from?!" We all thought it was hilarious that someone couldn't believe that blond hair could be natural. Now I realize that with the possible exception of Stockholm, there are not this many natural blonds anywhere else in the world. This point was clearly emphasized to me a few weeks ago at my great-niece's volleyball game when I was having trouble finding her on the court. Her team had their backs to the spectators, and I realized that looking for the girl with a blond ponytail was not going to help me. At all.

- Also at the volleyball game, there was one girl that was wearing a different color t-shirt from the rest of the team. Instead of a number, it said "Ingalls" on the back, so I assumed she had lost her uniform and was wearing a souvenir shirt from a "Little House on the Prairie" play or something. Then I saw the front and realized it was just a different uniform, and that "Ingalls" was actually her name.