Category Archives: Cartoon Blogs

Tickle My Sweet Tooth

3 Easy Steps to Getting Halloween Right

1. Get the best costume Halloween whimsy permits.

If you’re in it to get the biggest BOO! for your buck, the easy approach can be the most fun. Nothing says “shock the shinola out of your friends and family!” better than popping in some customizable fangs. You can saunter into work in your every-day grey business suit and still scare the crab apples out of your co-workers with nothing more than intense eye contact and a slow revealing grin. In fact, the more otherwise “normal” you look, the more interesting the effect.

Whimsy and visual puns are my personal favorite. I love costumes that make me guess. One Halloween in particular, our son had me wondering all night when he left the house for a party with a knife and fork in the front pocket of his shirt. He told me the next day he had gone as a cutlery drawer.

What’s the best punny costume idea you’ve come across? (Full disclosure: I WILL steal your idea for some year down the road.)

2. Get the best loot to give away, and by “best,” I mean the stuff that you yourself will enjoy eating for the next week or two.

Hershey’s Candy Assortment 100 Pieces

You may be more altruistic in this department than I am, so if you really want what seems to be most popular with the masses over at Amazon, the collection above is their #1 best seller.

At our house, we go for the quintessential Canadian snack food carbs:

Hawkins Cheezies

Oh. My.

I’ve missed you, my little crunchy real cheddar cheese nuggets of salty heaven!

We can get these at our local grocery store in the Halloween mini-pack format of 20 to a box. Since we live in a neighborhood populated mostly with empty nesters, we don’t expect a swarm on the 31st, but we’re going to pick up five or six boxes anyway, just to be safe.

They’re for the children.

3. Get the best entertainment lined up for a night of non-stop interruptions.

Free Halloween coloring pages to print out… (Don’t laugh. Rick likes to color.)

…or an inexpensive coloring book.

Entertainment doesn’t stop with coloring books.

Maybe a thematically appropriate sweet tooth puzzle is just the thing for older kids. (Inner kids count: Rick likes puzzles too.)

Here’s a candy wrapper-themed 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle from White Mountain Puzzles (did this one last Christmas, good one):

Candy Wrappers Puzzle

…or if you want to go straight to the Junior Mints, Dots, and Tootsie Rolls:

Tootsie Roll Puzzle

And when you’ve had enough candy and are ready to move on to beer, you can cheers the parents accompanying the midgi-goblins with this:

”Cheers” 1000 Piece Jigsaw Puzzle

… and of course, queue up a suite, throw-back Disney flick where you won’t miss any plot twists while you pause to answer the doorbell, and you’re all set!

The Sweet Life on Deck (full episode)

Have a punny Halloween (and don’t forget to floss)!

Telling Right from Left

Almost all of my friends have at least one trick to compensate for that maddening skill that somehow got skipped on their inventory before birth.

I know several highly competent—gifted, even—adults who need to stop and figure out “left” and “right” by surreptitiously forming the letter “L” with their thumbs and forefingers, noting that the hand that forms the correct orientation of the “L” is their left.

Me? Apparently I got a broken hippocampus: I was born without an inner GPS. I have the sense of direction of a mandarin orange: there is none. Stop me in the middle of a sentence and ask me to immediately point to where “home” is, and I will be, 100% of the time, wrong.

My compensating trick? A GPS on every device and dashboard.

follow Rick’s cartoons on Reddit

For Rick, the challenge lies in keeping “horizontal” and “vertical” straight. Fortunately for Rick and his fellow sufferers, the trick in this case is embedded right in the word itself: the “horizon” is “horizontal.”

Someone should quietly mention the trick to this seller on Amazon:

SACAS Funky Black & White Horizontal Stripes Opaque Tights

In all fairness, maybe she’s just a visionary thinker and has fast-forwarded to the end of the evening when she’s no longer vertical.

And for all our readers who are considering showing up as a zebra for Halloween, you’re welcome.

How To Fake A Clean House

And by “how to fake a clean house,” we mean, “how to actually clean the most high impact areas in a blind panic when you have fifteen minutes or fewer.”

Here are 4 steps that will you have spit-shined and ready for guests before you can holler “Oh, shizzle! She brought the white glove!”

1. Relax. No one cares nearly as much about seeing your house as they do about seeing you. And if they do, really, how much should you care about the odd dust bunny or two?

2. Focus your efforts on the front door, kitchen and “guest” bathroom, in that order.

First impressions count, so tidy boots and three weeks accumulation of mail by the front door, and clean any dog nose art/let-me-in paw prints from the glass.

Universal truth: given a choice, everyone hangs out in the kitchen, and if they’re having a great time, they’ll stay long enough to need the facilities. Clean shiny (aka, eye catching) surfaces first: relevant (and only relevant) windows, stainless steel kitchen appliances, sink and fixtures, and mirrors. Sparkle makes a whole room look better.

The key to efficiency here (time is money, people!) is to be prepared. Have two outstanding “all purpose” cleaning products plus a [easyazon-link asin=”B009FUF6DM” locale=”us”]microfiber cloth[/easyazon-link] and a roll of high quality paper towels stashed in both the kitchen and bathroom. With a supply in each room, you can divide and conquer the clean-a-thon with a buddy.

Ideally, you’ll have at the ready a top-notch all-purpose spray that can handle grease, grime, soapy gook, toothpaste splatter, crayon, etc., AND works on glass, mirrors, counter tops, and wooden surfaces. Think I’m dreaming? It really does exist.

On Cook’s Illustrated recommendation for best all purpose cleaning spray about a year ago, we bought [easyazon-link asin=”B006K3RG8A” locale=”us”]Method All Purpose Natural Surface Cleaning Spray[/easyazon-link]. Besides the exquisite french lavender scent, it works on everything, plus it’s the best eyeglass cleaner I’ve found, beating even vinegar. If you’re looking for the best after-every-meal product for cleaning glass top stoves and kitchen counter tops, this is the stuff. We’ve gone through six bottles already and have one in every room with running water.

‘Nuff said.

The second essential is a product with a tiny bit of grit to quickly attack everything else, which in our well water supplied home frequently equals hardened calcium and mineral deposits on faucets and sinks, cloudy glassware, and carbonized schmebage on the glass stove top that goes beyond [easyazon-link asin=”B006K3RG8A” locale=”us”]Method’s[/easyazon-link] pay grade. Best choice here? [easyazon-link asin=”B000V72992″ locale=”us”]Bar Keepers Friend Cleanser & Polish[/easyazon-link], also endorsed by Cook’s Illustrated.

Give the bath mat a shake in the tub and close the shower curtain. Stow any personal items under the sink. (Note: this doesn’t mean “make room for personal items under the sink.” We’re after speed here. Just dump ’em in and promise yourself the indulgence of feeling slovenly later.)

Clear the sink of dishes: warp-load the dishwasher, and in a pinch, the oven too if you won’t be using it.

Between a zip round with [easyazon-link asin=”B006K3RG8A” locale=”us”]Method spray[/easyazon-link], [easyazon-link asin=”B000V72992″ locale=”us”]Bar Keepers[/easyazon-link], and a quick surface polish with a stainless steel appliances cleaning product like [easyazon-link asin=”B004VJSULC” locale=”us”]Whirlpool Affresh Stainless Steel Cleaning Wipes[/easyazon-link] (recommended by… Whirlpool!), you’re 9/10s of the way there.

(Stash the school drawings and fridge magnets for the time being: darling, yes, but they bring a messy geshtalt to your kitchen.)

3. Do a quick clutter sweep of public areas.

Sprint scoop up papers and magazine, remotes, dog brushes, note pads, (let’s see… did I miss anything?) and stash ’em en mass in a room with a door that will stay shut for the evening. You, or your designated victim, can sort it all out later.

4. Still have a few minutes before the doorbell rings?

Check that your bed is neatly made. This will be the one thing guests will notice if they happen to look in your bedroom.

Open the windows to air out the place and whisk away any odors you may be unaware of. (Another universal but rarely acknowledged truth: our noses get accustomed to our own household skunk.)

Change your shirt into something less sweaty, given the mad dash of the past fifteen minutes, and slap on some lipstick, if that’s how you roll.

Put on some music, dim the lights, take a deep cleansing breath, and promise yourself you won’t apologize for the condition of your home. If they wanted to visit with your dust bunnies, they should have said so in the first place.

Parlez Vous “Honeycation”?

Or, maybe it’s a “vacamoon.”

In any case, we’re going to France.

Want to come along?

Identity Issues

November 20, 2011, was the first time I had downloaded my boarding pass onto my iPhone, and I was feeling like one of the cool kids as I walked up to the TSA podium in Jackson Hole, iPhone and California driver’s license in hand. I had an Ellen DeGeneres “I’m too cool for my boarding pass” bounce to my step.

The TSA lady looked at my license and said, “Whoa! What happened to all your hair? And I see it used to be a different color, ha ha.”

I ha-ha’d back. When the TSA is in a jokey mood, you’re better off chortling along with ’em than bristling at the suggestion that you maybe had aged a bit in the ten years since the photo had been taken.

“Hmm…,” she mused as her forehead slowly converged into a knot. She pulled the card closer to her face for a more official scrutinization.

“This says you are a male.”

To say I was surprised doesn’t quite cover it.

I’ve had that license for over 10 years, but because I’m a squeaky clean law-abiding guest in this country (plus, I’m lucky), I have never been pulled over by the police. And since I have been traveling on my Canadian passport for all those years, none of TSA lady’s colleagues-in-arms had noticed the “M” where the “F” should have been. However, as my current Canadian passport is soon to expire, it was somewhere afloat on the international sea of red tape between the Victor, ID post office and my home and native land at the time of my humiliation.

By the time I recovered my lower jaw from the cold tile floor of the Jackson Hole airport, a supervisor had been summoned and “the situation” explained.

“Do you have any other form of picture ID with your current address on it?”

Oh. Crap.

Rick and I had just moved to Teton Valley as full-time residents the month earlier. Part of the deal of being in the USA on a green card is that when you move, you are obliged to let Immigration Services know your new address within 10 days of moving. Did I mention I’m a law-abider? I had contacted the INS with my new address, but so far, the only photo ID I had to offer was my now completely discredited California driver’s license showing my old California address. I didn’t have so much as 6-month dentist check-up reminder with my new address on me.

As the intricacies of my dilemma washed over me, I remembered that I have conscientiously carried my green card with me everywhere I’ve gone since receiving it, as required by the INS. It was in my purse, which was tucked neatly inside my suitcase so as not to break the “only two carry-on items allowed” rule. (See!! TOTALLY law abiding. Mostly.) I unzipped my suitcase, noticing the long line-up of impatient travelers growing behind me waiting to get through security.

Loupe jammed into eye socket, the supervisor peered with intense focus into the teensy script that is apparently invisibly crammed onto the front of the green card (which is actually white, FYI).
“It says here that your birthdate is January 16, 1959. Okay, that matches, and it says you are female, so you’ve got that going for ya. But we’re going to have to put in a quick call to Immigration Services just to be sure. They’ll ask me a few questions which I’ll relay to you to answer. Would you mind stepping over here, please?”

I immediately lost all ability to remember my mother’s maiden name, what year I graduated from university, and how many children I have. Irrational panic tends to have this effect on me.

And I forgot my suitcase was still open.

In my adrenalin-assisted scurry to get-the-hell-out-of-everyone’s-way, I grabbed my bag, flipping it neatly over to dump the entire contents upside down in a disorderly heap directly in front of the podium. I stared into a spreading layer of intensely personal undergarments, grooming aids, cosmetics, and all the other “tricks ‘o the trade” that fifty-something women use to combat hormonal challenges, fading hair pigment, gravity, etc.

eBags “Anti-Embarrassment” Packing Cubes

The only positive thing I can say about that particular two minutes of my life was that the line up behind me simultaneously took pity by averting their eyes, finding an immediate need to check their email on their phones, looking for dirt under their fingernails, etc. And aside from me, the only other person intensely interested in the contents of my bag was the TSA lady as she spoke to Immigration Services.

And thus the tide began to turn.

“No, no… no other alarm bells. In fact, there is mounting evidence that she probably is a woman, after all. DMV clerical error. Sorry to trouble you. Buh-bye.”

P.S.

Fifteen days later, and I’m now officially a female again… for at least 30 days until my permanent card comes in the mail. And this time, I’ll be checking.

Shingle Bells

One of us has been sick with shingles. ON HER FACE. AND IN HER NOSE.

Shingle bells, shingle bells, shingles ALL the way…

We”ll spare you the finer details—unless you have a of couple hours, a strong stomach, and want to chat—but the experience has left us with a list of three Lessons Learned that we’d like to share.

1. Don’t get shingles on your face.

It hurts like stink all the way to the back of your eyeballs. In fact, for a day or two at the beginning, we thought the swelling and pain was due to a recent root canal gone seriously bad. As it turned out, that probably would have been better.

Once awakened, the dormant chickenpox virus that lingers in all previous inflictees morphs into a bad-tempered, sun-seeking viper with blood red eyes, an evil temper, and epic halitosis. It snakes through the nerves, needle-like tongue flicking hungrily as it searches for a path out, undulating until it finds a way up through the skin surface where it can finally ooze its way into the warmth of day, emerging as taut, shiny little blisters. The nerves along the path become inflamed and incredibly sensitive, making this flicking business extremely uncomfortable. On top of all that, you have a virus in the classic sense of “You are now officially going to feel like ten pounds of nasty in a five-pound bag for a solid week or so.”

Regardless of a reasonable explanation for why it’s called “shingles,” it should, at minimum, be called “stingles,” and even that’s too cutesy. There must be government funding available for a campaign to change the name to “bubonic blisters,” right?

We hope this short description has adequately motivated you for #2 Lesson below.

2. Do get a shingles vaccine.

Once again, there’s proof that we’re early adopters in this household, as shingles usually strikes people aged 60 or older. (Apparently, exceptions can be made to this rule.) Fortunately, the risk of reactivating the virus can be reduced by a shot of Zostavax.

Note to y’all in the relevant age category, or have friends or relatives who qualify: GET. THE. VACCINE.

Since a decent case of shingles helps develop an immunity to it, Kathy probably won’t get the vaccine now. It’s an ironic upside to an otherwise lackluster experience, unless you also count losing eight pounds in eight days an “upside.” Yes, the eight pounds was sort of a perk, but not one that comes anywhere close to compensating for the cost of entry.

3. Shingles is unleashed by stress. Therefore, we have come to a firm resolve that we must do more.

While the online experts aren’t willing to bet their snazzy white lab coats on it, the consensus seems to be that a compromised immune system and/or stress are the culprits that open the door to the sleeping viper. And as life-style wake-up calls go, the medic seems to think it’s been a pretty gentle knock at the door.

One option is to just hit the snooze button and wait for loved ones to wear red in her memory. An alternate path, and one we have decided is the better way to go, is to resolve to do more.

More exercise.

More yogurt and fresh fish.

More stretching and gratitude and sunshine.

More playing music and singing.

More driving in the right-hand lane, and more silent blessing of the aggressive pre-shingles candidates in the far left lane who seem intent on turning each other into organ donors.

More yoga (Okay… some yoga. Baby steps.)

And more baby steps in this general direction.

Sometimes, more actually is more.

No App for That

Ten years ago, if you had asked me what I would be thankful for on November 25, 2010, I’m pretty sure I would not have answered — among many, many other actual answers — an old farmhouse in Idaho, a wee boy named “Noah,” and something called an “iPad.”

See? I don’t know everything.

We LOVE our iPads. Via keyboards that are built for actual adult human fingers, they connect us to our own brains, lives, world, libraries, calendars, data, work communities, families, and each other in ways that are difficult to describe.

So if you rip open an elegantly packaged electronic device on Christmas morning that purrs with ease-of-use as it welcomes you to the Borg, be happy. You just got the best new toy, ever.

Yet, in addition to my iPad and favorite 48 apps, there are a few things I am thankful for that Mr. Jobs has not introduced to my life.

Namely, Rick, Winnie, and something called “the Ocean.”

rickandkathy.com

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