One Year

We made it to our first anniversary!  In the coming weeks, we'll try to update this blog a little more frequently on our goings-ons.

December Crazies

December's a crazy time in our family.  Finals are here for Megan, the house needs to be decorated with ALL THE THINGS, there are fifteen bajillion church services to plan and sing--sometimes you just want to FLY AWAY!

Yeah, I think I got a little crazy.  But seriously, I think if I flap hard enough, my hair might be able to lift me up off the ground.  Megan could grab my foot, and we'd just fly away.  Probably go to Port Orford.

Silly videos isn't the only way we relieve December Stress, though.

It was an ordinary Thursday, except the following day, Megan had a final.  So, I guess it wasn't so ordinary, now that I think of it.  We had been shopping for our Angel Tree girl, who wanted a Guitar and a Piano.  With the help of Toys "Backwards R" Us and Wal-Mart, we made that happen.

"What do you want for dessert?" she asked.

He didn't reply immediately but instead stared at the ceiling for a good fifteen seconds.  "I don't know.  I never know. What about a pot brownie from Freebirds?"

"Well...ok, if you want."

He drove on, the lights from the Wal-Mart parking lot dancing on the windshield of the car.  They were almost to Freebirds when he saw it.

"Wait," he said.  "Wait a damn minute.  What about Froyo?"

The U-Swirl place was right next to Freebirds.  It called to them, beckoning.  Come inside, it said.  Come get some sprinkles with a side of yoghurt.  You know you want the sprinkles.

He turned the car into the parking lot.  "Let's do this."


*******

Ok, perhaps that was a tad dramatic, but let me tell you: this was life-changing.  We're getting our yoghurt. (aside: Who came up with the spelling for that one?). I'm filling up on sprinkles, as is my want, when I see it:

O M G

Christmas Tree Cakes.  Just waiting there for me to eat them.  You could have as many as you want.  You could just fill an entire cup with them. Well, I'm not a glutton.  I'm only getting one.

That's what I'm talking about

In another bin, Megan saw something amazing, too.  Seems this store has a Little Debbie fan as the owner, because they had SANTA BROWNIES.

Mouth or Nose? We say Mouth.  Santa has a Hipster Grin.

So yes, friends, as my wife declared, this was the best decision of the whole day.  BEST DECISION.

Christmas.  In Froyo Form.

How I unwind from finals

I love old magazines.

Maybe it's the fashions, maybe it's the peek into a different time period...

Of BERLIN you say!  Have psychiatrists heard about this?

Maybe it's how happy it makes me that I didn't live back then...

When I'm working the desk, and I don't have any homework I need to do, Cameron likes to get me some old magazine volumes from the stacks so I have something to do besides play Farmville 2 stare at the computer screen for hours.

They are beautiful, hilarious, and bizarre.

Today, I bring you strange ads from issues of Good Housekeeping from the 1930s.  

No, this room needs to be destroyed.

The issues from this era, on the whole, seem to be trying to lift the morale of depression era housewives, telling them they can still have nice homes, eat good food, and raise well-rounded children on a limited income.  There are articles about how to can preserves, how to stretch that dollar, how to make something from practically nothing - together with short stories, poems, and non-fiction pieces.  It's like someone literate person printed out their Pinterest feed, went back in time, and started selling it to people.

Stewie was so innocent back then...

I could go on and on about what I've discovered looking through these magazines, but this is finals week.  So, if you taking a break from writing, studying, or grading, take a deep breath and thank God that you live in an era with the internet, indoor plumbing, and the ability to pursue whatever job you want (whether you're a man or a woman).  And that no one is calling your lips "common".

 

O Christmas Tree Cake, O Christmas Tree Cake...

Friends, I’m writing to you today to tell you about the war.  It’s a war waged not in the streets or our homes, but in the aisles of the local grocer.  It’s not the war on Christmas, the war on drugs, or even the war on who gets the television remotes.

No, I’m talking about the war on snacks.  

Some of you might remember the great Cadbury Egg fiasco of aught-seven, when the famous chocolatier started making their gooey-gift-from-God eggs smaller.  We cried out in terror, yet we were silenced.  Finally, we ate our smaller eggs, knowing that they owned our candy-souls.

This kind of thing has been cropping up a lot recently.  Just this year, M&M Mars announced that due to new regulations, all candy bars will be under 250 calories.  Some of the regular-sized bars will be slimming down as a result.  

I ask  you, can we let this injustice stand?  Are we not men and women?  Do we not need chocolate in our lives?  Is it not our own choice how much we should consume?

This past week saw the establishment of a new theatre by the Man in the war on snacks.  For years, Megan and I have enjoyed Little Debbie Christmas Tree cakes.  They are a Christmas Tradition dating back nearly two decades.  It’s a race to see who can find the first box, and it’s a challenge to not eat them all in one sitting.

We were elated to find the boxes out already last weekend.  Since we’re past October now, it’s fair game to celebrate Christmas a little early and stuff our faces with snack-cakey goodness. We picked up two boxes and ate them without a second thought.

Something was wrong, though.  Somewhere, in the deep recesses of my mind, I knew that something wasn’t right.  I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but it gnawed at my soul with the persistence of a termite trying to bring down a giant redwood.  

As I was eating my third cake a few days later, it suddenly hit me.  I ran to look at the box to see if my suspicions were correct.  They had changed the box design the year before, and I wanted to make sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.

Meet the new Box. Not the same as the old Box.

Sure enough, something was different, but to be sure I had a take a trip.  A trip to the past.

Flux Capacitor...Fluxing.

Ok, more like a trip to Google Image Search.  

It took less than two seconds to find a picture of the cakes from the year before.  After all, who doesn’t love Christmas Tree Cakes?  

I found the picture of a box from yesteryear.  I looked at it closely, then looked at the cake in my hand.

The Classic Box

My God, what have they done?

They made the trees actual trees!  Before, they were mere triangles with stumps on the end.  They were like the Forms; pure versions of the concept of the tree.  It was clear what they were.  Long have children made paper Christmas trees with green construction paper cut into a triangle.  

But no. No, the war had to have some casualties, and it would be the edges of our precious triangular trees.  Cut down with a chainsaw, the icing falling like snow into the rubbish bin.  

Now our cakes are slightly smaller.  Slightly less fulfilling, nutritionally and spritually.  For now with every bite, we admit defeat in the war.  

We need to end this war.  We need to make silly posts such as this one to stop this mindless downsizing.  Won’t someone think of our taste buds? 

Christmas Tree Cake eaters of the world Unite!  Let us rise up and—hey wait, I still need to eat this Christmas Tree Cake in my hand.

What was I saying again?

Windows 8

Yesterday was a big day.  A really big day.

No, I’m not talking about the anniversary of the Treaty of Ripon in 1640.

Nor am I talking about the death of Alfred the Great in 899.

No, I’m talking about something far more important.  Something that will probably touch the lives of very single person that reads this blog.  Yes, that means YOU, random person that found this through a Google search for McAlister’s Potatoes!  You!

I’m talking, of course, about Windows.

Windows.

Eight.

That’s right, yesterday, Microsoft launched what they are calling the eighth version of their computer operating system.  It’s actually version six.something of Windows NT, but who’s counting, right?  

Well, I have to admit that I was actually pretty interested in seeing what Microsoft came up with this time. 

You see, for 17 years, Windows has looked like this:

Retro!

That’s Windows 95.  It looks pretty much like Windows 7 does, when you get down to it.  It’s familiar and comforting (well, if you like Windows).  You know how to use it.  You know what it does.  It’s a big mess, for sure, but it’s a comfortable mess, like a messy desk that you know where everything is.

As of Friday Microsoft dumped all that mess in the garbage.  After 17 years, they are trying something radically different.  Are you ready, readers?  Because this is some scary, scary stuff.

Boo!

Look at this.  Colors!  Tiles! Flatness! Stylized Text!

I had to see this for my own eyes.  

So yesterday, after work, Megan and I ran over to the local Best Buy to try this out for ourselves.  We made our way into the store, breezing past the over-eager salesmen that wanted to sell us a phone or a camera or some other gadget we don’t need.

There they were:  The Windows 8 computers, all lined up on a row.  HPs, Samsungs, and other PC vendors had new machines out, eager to sell you their (soft)wares.  

We first saw a little laptop with Windows 8 on it.  After a few clicks of the mouse, I knew this would never do.  Windows 8 was meant for touch.  We needed a touch screen computer.

I walked to the back wall, which had all-in-one machines with big, 20-inch screens.  All of them were black with silver accents.  I walked up to the one smack dab in the middle.  This one looked promising! 

I reached out with my finger and tapped on the screen. 

The LCD panel gave under my finger, a shimmering halo of color and light spreading out from my fingertips.

Ooops.

That wasn’t a touchscreen.

My bad?

We moved over two computers to one of HP’s new “Touchsmart” devices, and I immediately began poking and prodding the colorful tiles of Windows 8’s new “It’s not called Metro anymore” interface.

I clicked the mail app and Fwoosh!  In flew the mail.  Oh God, it’s full screen.  

A full 20-inches devoted to email.  Oh God.

My heart started beating a little faster as sweat began pouring down my brow.

Somehow I got back to the start page.  Let’s try something else.  How about Internet Explorer?  I could pull up Apple.com and leave it there. 

Oh God.  Oh God. Oh God.  Another full screen app.  The screen filled with white, with tiny letters informing me that there was no internet connection.

I swiped left and somehow switched back to mail.  

I felt trapped in this new full screen, color-filled world.  Where were my beautiful windows?  How could I see what was going on behind the window I was working in?

I frantically tapped the screen until I found the “desktop” part of the OS, the one that runs all your old Windows applications. Ah.  This is a little better.  

Fwap!  Up popped a big box telling me that I needed to update my virus software.  I tried to make it go away, but it was persistent.  In my frantic poking, I found myself back at the start screen.

Those tiles were starting to burn into my soul.  I couldn’t handle this.  I couldn’t live in this full screen world.  Somehow, it works on a tablet.  But here, I just felt trapped—boxed in and unable to focus.  

I looked over at my wife.  She’s zooming around the interface, clearly having fun.  In a few minutes, she finds Solitaire and begins happily poking away at the cards.  She looks over at me, a big smile on her face.

“I like this!” she says, doing a little dance in the aisle.

I prodded at my own screen some more.  I wanted to just rip the tiles off, to see what was behind them.

“I’m going to walk around a little.”

I wander off, shaken by the experience of Windows 8. The colors.  The tiles.  Full screen.  Five minutes later, Megan finds me in the Apple section, trying to load Scrivener on an 11 inch MacBook Air.

“Are you ok?” she asked, a hint of laughter in her voice.

My eyes were wide.  I stared out into space, trying to focus on the minuscule windows on the MacBook Air in front of me.  Windows.  Familiar little windows.  I can move them and see what’s under them.  They were warm and comforting.  

Not like those evil big tiles, with their full-screen monstrosities and their bright, happy colors.  

I shuddered.  “I feel violated.”  

I looked at Megan and held my disturbed face for a second, my head shaking a little.  This new full-screen thing…I just couldn’t handle it.  It was too much.  

Then I cracked, remembered that I used a Mac anyway, and burst out laughing.

“Well it was kind of cool on the tablet,” I said, “and I did like that one paint app.” 

We walked out of the store, leaving the horror of Windows 8 behind.  

“It’s a nice night out here,” said Megan as we stepped out of the manufactured Best Buy air and into mother nature’s own brand.  

“Yeah, it is,” I said.  “Let’s go home.”

As we were driving out of the parking lot, a family with their young daughter came out of the store.  The father walked ahead, his expression stoic, as his wife dragged their young daughter, who was throwing a tantrum.  

She really was pretty upset, her face red, with tears streaming down her cheeks. She had planted her tiny, pink-shoed feet firmly on the ground and wasn’t going to budge unless her mother dragged her, which she was doing a pretty fair job of.

“I wonder what she’s upset about,” Megan asked.

I looked over at her and smiled.  “Her Dad must have just bought a new computer with Windows 8.”

We laughed as we drove off into the cool dark of the October night.  

Cameron loves his computer

Cameron's going to blog about us going to Best Buy last night and playing around with Windows 8.  If you don't know him, he's very much a Mac person, so the post is going to be pretty funny :)

This morning, I found him playing with the exposé feature on his laptop.  And singing. 

Did I mention he's a Mac person?

Presenting: The Teaser Trailer to Cameron's Windows 8 Post!

(I didn't know it was going to go on that long, either :-p)

McAllister's KidSpud

We go to Jason's Deli a lot.

A lot.

It's where we go if we can't think of anywhere else to go, and we don't feel like cooking.  (This usually happens at least once a week.)  And we order usually order the same things.  I get a Plain Jane (lighter side, no bacon) and a fruit cup, and Cameron gets a Club Sandwich (no tomatoes or mayo) with chips. 

Cameron knows someone who works there, and we go there so often that other people are starting to recognize us, too.  They take special care with our orders now, because they probably feel like they know us...

Which we took as a sign that we were going there too much.  So the next time we wanted to go to Jason's, we went to McAllister's instead.

(Baby steps, people.  Baby steps.)

Cameron got a Club Sandwich (no tomatoes or mayo), and I was just going to get a Veggie Club...

Until I discovered the Kids Menu.

The 99 cent Kids Menu. 

And the KidSpud.

Back when I was a poor, single, grad student.  I would go to Wendy's for my potato cravings.  But this potato was REAL.  And it came with TEDDY GRAHAMS.  (And I could add cheese to it.)

AND ALL OF THIS WAS ONLY A DOLLAR. 

How did I not know about this back then?  

They also have Mac and Cheese, a Kid's Garden Salad, a Kid's Nacho Basket, a Cheese Pita Pizza, a Turkey and Cheese Sandwich, a Ham and Cheese Sandwich, a Toasted Cheese Sandwich, and a PB&J.

ALL FOR A DOLLAR.

My pre-married, pre-husband-who-makes-sure-I-eat, pre-kitchen-with-actual-food-in-it days would have been infinitely better had I known about this four years ago.

Yes, we felt like we were cheating on Jason's.  But it was amazing, and cheap, and as much as I love the potato at Jason's, the lighter potato is still a lot of potato.  And it was fun sitting outside, being silly, and enjoying our food in the beautiful weather.

Also...  This happened.