* Loudest, most obnoxious game show "wrong answer" sound ever devised by man*
Ever devised by man with unabated hatred toward all mankind.
I have a bad attitude. A very bad attitude.
Help a brother out. Tell me how I can change my attitude. Tell me why I should change it. If you do, I won't argue. I'll actually try to change it.
I pay a fortune for internet service. More than is reasonable due to near monopoly situation. There are only two services in my specific area and the second choice is a far distant second. This month my rate was raised arbitrarily by $10.00 month without notification, boom, just like that. No cable because the company, Comcast, pulled this same crap with cable that kept getting worse. They know where I stand, their rep promised me the rates will hold steady. I'm this close --->・<--- to switching to much less efficient service because I am not going to subject myself to Comcast abuse.
Then governments federal and state abuse my service at their wim. I'm not paying for internet service so that government can contact me along with everyone at once, and for government to constantly test. I'm not driving anywhere, so I don't want the notification of some custody dispute whereby a parent takes their own child. I don't need alerts to the weather and warnings of flash flooding possibilities in remote counties every time it rains.
My phone woke me up from a dream as I was explaining something important and my single thought was and still is, "Fuck you. "
And I mean it.
Then my television runs another message across the top of my screen as I am watching it. My first and only thought is "Fuck you." *click* The television is turned off without reading the message.
Naming an alert "Presidential Alert" Does not mean my respected president is talking to me, no, it's some engineer performing a test, someone 1/3 my age with megalomaniacal mind frame pulling his switch. Not my president. LIES!
Bite me. Just fuck off and bite me.
I'm resenting my own phone and my television. This is NOT what I want. This is NOT what I choose to pay for. And pay dearly.
This is my very poor attitude and so far I haven't heard anything that can get me off it although everyone I've talked to thinks both governments are reasonable and the warnings and tests are good.
Here's what my dream looked like. Care to see it?
It's a scene of 14th Street that in my area runs next to the capitol, then continues east on past Colorado Boulevard. On the west side it goes way out there through residences near to the foothills, parallel with more efficient Colfax that's numbered 15th st that goes all the way to Morrison. It's an effective route to and from Dinosaur ridge, plus it's an interesting ride for being so tacky.
But on the east 14th goes up Capitol Hill. A friend rented an old apartment there with Murphy bed in a cabinet in the living room wall and cockroaches and everything, across 14th from Molly Brown's house, and his large oversized window faces directly at eye level the gold dome of the capital, boom, right there in his window a gigantic gold dome. Real gold. The place is built on a hill, obviously.
I'm explaining to an unseen traveling companion that Colorado Boulevard is 40 blocks east of Broadway where I live. Broadway = 0 and Colorado Boulevard = 40.
Ellsworth running east and west is "0" for north and south streets, Broadway runs north and south parallel with the mountains and is "0" for east and and west streets. So, 14th street is 14 blocks north of center. And Colorado Boulevard is 40 blocks east of center.
So all the houses pouring at us between Harrison and Colorado will have the numbers starting with 39something.
But that's quite impossible because in real life there are no houses pouring at us. There are only buildings fixed on the corners and those address are all on the cross streets with only a few addresses along the way on 14th St. Nevertheless, in the dream it was a very important conversation, crucial, I'd say, that was rudely and presumptuously interrupted by federal government. Can't they do their fucking little tests without being so goddamn overbearingly obnoxious?
No. They cannot.
And the only way to avoid them is to disavow technology altogether.
Amazon increased its minimum wage to $15.00 per hour.
Say they work eight hours a day, that's what, 80 + 40 = $120.00 a day X 5 days a week = $600.00 a week. 120 x 30 days = 3600 a month x 12 = 43,200 a year.
That's a lot of physical work, I bet.
And I bet they work a lot more than 8 hours a day 5 days a week, but I'm guessing.
MATHS!
Shared the new Amazon $15 minimum wage with the team here at LGB3 early this morning! Best All Hands Ever!!! 👊😃 pic.twitter.com/RqkvHQuomO
Half way through I recognized his voice. This is the man who changed the paradymeparadime paradigm for tens of thousands of home bakers by one video hosted by Mark Bittman for NYT.
Through this, Jim Lahey opened the practice of bread making for tens of thousands of people.
I'm guessing.
It's the no-knead part that did it. Lahey emphasizes that time is a form of kneading. The idea of not kneading bread appealed to an awful lot of people.
And I don't understand that. I don't understand those people. My brother included. That's the most fun part. I don't understand bread machines either. They like to make bread but not knead it. Hands on the dough and working it, feeling it change in your hands within minutes is fascinating every single time. It's fun. You actually feel the autolyze reaction affect the feel of the dough, you feel it ease, you feel it soften, you feel the gluten develop, its elasticity become more pronounced as you go, you actually feel the dough come alive in your hands as the yeast grows in your hands, you feel the dough grow, you feel your food come alive. Who doesn't want that?
It's a-l-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-v-e !
Turns out thousands of people can do without that.
You're no fun. Come on!
Watching George and Paul make a pizza for the first time in their lives, neither one having ever handled dough, then producing an excellent pizza better than you can buy, was one of the most fun things that happened this summer. Every single step was a new discovery, and that was fun.
My dad told me three times, "My aunt Mary made three loaves of bread every single week."
That's a lot of bread for two people, but what the heck, they liked homemade bread. I don't know why that impressed my dad so hard. "She didn't measure anything. She made it so much that she just put things in a bowl." To my dad that was magic.
The third time I said, "So."
My dad looked at me shocked like how can I be so dismissive. His facial expression pleaded for me to explain myself.
"Honestly. Nothing at all against Mary's creativity, but it's no big thing. I haven't bought bread in a decade." And since that conversation it's been decades. By then bread comes out of your fingertips.
And it never stops being fascinating.
Then the killer is, Mark Bittman for all his cookery genius, misses the point that is emphasized repeatedly of time as an ingredient and suggests a much faster way to do this. Sensibly Jim Lahey is against this. Fast bread will not have a slow-proofed country essence, its character forfeited. But Mark Bittman cannot internalize that. Speed is higher value than quality.
These two are a YouTube phenomenon. Usually the two sit behind a work surface and try different things like guessing bizarre food or drinks, trying survival food buckets, applying makeup from items purchased at an art store, testing hot sauces, thirty-year old candy and such, but this video is different from the rest.
They have fourteen million subscribers and this video garnered nearly eleven thousand comments.
The Canadians at Smalldeadanimals had no time for this. Seventeen minutes of massive confusion.
Sorry Honey, no time….
And.
Indeed. Get to the point, and quickly. Be prepared and organized before you start, don’t figure out what you’re trying to say, while you’re saying it.
And.
I tried………cute……..drinks maybe but my feeling is that whatever your point was I may assume you have snakes in yer head. But lets go out
And.
Exactly what I thought. Is this going somewhere? I have better things to do.
And then.
... most of us claim to understand and see the incredible depth of leftist propaganda that all Canadians have to contend with. The entire public education system, ALL mainstream media, virtually ALL social media, most parents, Hollywood, peers, TV(especially late night hosts), feminists, social activists ...
Tonight I clicked through Jimmy Kimmel Live (on two consecutive channels), The Late Show With Steven Colbert (on two consecutive channels), The Late Show With James Gordon (on two consecutive channels), Late Night With Seth Meyers, Amanpour and Company, The Daily Show With Trevor Noah. They don't get to put one single word into my ears. The Weather Channel is more interesting to me, The Most Daring is more interesting, The Drew Carry show is far more interesting to me.
The commenter at Smalldead animals continues.
Calling young people stupid for simply being raised in this social cesspool is no less ignorant than calling a Christian stupid for being raised in their particular church. And before anyone emotionally jumps to their keyboard, I am not focusing on rightness or wrongness here, just intensity of conviction vs true open mindedness. Something for those without bunkered mentalities to think about, anyways.
She lives in Newfoundland. Commenters are calling her young Newfie. She's young. Her friends abandoned her because she is clear thinking and they are not. Here is her confusion as she gets things sorted on video. She is an achingly slow speaker. If you care to listen, you might think of her as your own child or your own grandchild. I found +1.5 is a good speed.
Three thousand comments on YouTube are better than the 60 comments at Smalldeadanimals.
I read somewhere Trump plans a rally each day for the next five days.
You might have to skippity doo dah to get to the start. RSBN viewers asked them to show more of the gathering crowds and more interviews after the rally to make it like being there. The inside crowd shown isn't even half of it.
Trump is offensive and provocative as ever. That is, he is not defensive and he is unwilling to allow anyone to be more provocative than himself. He will always out-offense and out-provoke, and that's when he's at his most hilarious. He's truly a funny man, the voices he puts on, his imitations of people. So unexpected from CIC. I've never seen anything like it.
It's the same thing I realized about Henry Kissinger three decades ago. It took awhile to notice because Kissinger is dry as the Sahara in The White House Years, and Years of Upheaval, but once noticed, his characterizations of people and places and events is truly hilarious, in a high intellectual sense and told without any telltale smile. But Trump is not dry nor intellectual, but he is just as brutally viciously coldly honest. And he keeps coming up with fresh material to fit into his act.
I cannot figure out his "not pick up my phone" and "leave a message." I wouldn't know what I was seeing without the music. Those must be whatcha call colloquialisms. And that makes me go hmmm, now learn something new everyday innit.
Love how they pulled this together. Young people; so enthusiastic, willing, malleable. So excellent.
When I clicked in editor it said video unavailable. Here's the link if it doesn't display and you care to see it.
Should be MUSCA, 'cause we're in the middle, and Canada came into it late.
It's an historic speech and Trump instructs journalists on economics but they are dull uninterested learners. He bores them with facts that they avoided by taking journalism classes. And if they would have taken economics classes, finance, and statistics, they'd be at the bottom.
And he instructs those around him how to handle hostile journalists.
"Shut up and sit down, you ignorant dope."
Did I even hear that right? That's what it sounded like to me. Some woman in red is flatly not interested in trade agreements, her thinking is elsewhere and she drags down everyone else there. Very first question she changes the subject to dope-subject. Trump promised if she would just shut up and sit down now that he'll get back to her later, and he did. Then she abused that courtesy by taking a mile where an inch was given. So Trump told her to shut up again.
Enough of you. Begone.
They're absolute masochists. The whole lot of them, but this woman puts herself forward for abuse. Go on, hit me. Hit me. Hit me I said. Hit me so I can print that.
People gather for Trump to appear tonight at Johnson City, TN.
Here in Johnson City for the Trump Rally! Just the line to get in line; Not sure we are going to get in! Huge turn out!! #MAGApic.twitter.com/Y47ZOjrqP2
I seldom look at the New York Times bestseller list, and when I glanced at it a couple of months ago I remembered why. Aside from a pop-science book by the astronomer Neil deGrasse Tyson, there wasn’t anything on it I would want to read, ever. I paged through the top 10 on the bestseller shelf at my local Barnes & Noble. There was a memoir by a writer in her thirties about her long struggle to do something worth writing a memoir about; a plump sermon on national piety called, of course, The Soul of America; a book about opioids. And six books about Donald Trump. Evidently Trump has swallowed up the book-publishing industry the way he has swallowed up everything else. I bought all six, along with another by Ann Coulter, whose new book about Trump has failed to make the list. I like Ann and she looked lonely.
Ha ha. He'd read a book by Neil deGrass Tyson, the arrogant walking talking politicized shadow cast by more solid Carl Sagan. That right there tells us who are reading.
1. The villain. Several very good paragraphs about Omarosa whom I don't care about. He actually read her malevolent little book.
2. The Judge. Several very good paragraphs about how bad the style of Judge Jeanine Pirro's book is, Liars and Liberals: The Case Against the Anti-Trump Conspiracy.
A pretty good amusing Mad Magazine style caricature illustration is inserted here, people climbing a wooden pole carrying a load of their own books.
So there we are, just reading along, minding our own business, when suddenly, out of nowhere, she falls into using the second-person pronoun. Readers will wonder why she’s addressing them this way—and then they’ll realize she’s decided to talk directly to Michelle Obama or Hillary Clinton or Meryl Streep or Robert De Niro or any of several other people who would rather be waterboarded than pick up her book and read it. “Meryl, you say you didn’t know about Harvey [Weinstein]’s predatory behavior. Really?” She can’t wait for an answer because De Niro has come into view. “Bobby, I think you’re taking your roles too seriously.” Whoops, here’s Hillary. “Hillary, could it be you said nothing because you have experience with pedophiles?” Then she collars Michelle and gives her a tongue-lashing about feminist hypocrisy.
Shut up, Andrew Ferguson, that's how Jeanine Pirro actually talks. You must know that. It's her voice.
Much more about Jeanine Pirro, Trump, Republicans and conservative inconsistency and conservative irony from a liberal point of view skip, skip skipptiy-skip.
3. The Consultant. Rick Wilson. Described as frequent MSNBC contributor and longtime political consultant. His book is titled Everything Trump Touches Dies.
Nobody sensible listens to Rick Wilson, far less read one of his books.
Immediately debatable. I'm not interesting in reading any further. Everything Whig is being forced out, everything that's an anchor to prosperity is being dropped, and everything meaningful actually touched by Trump blossoms and thrives. Written by a Whig being forced out, so not worth reading, nor even reading about.
Rick Wilson is terribly slow on the uptake.
The books that Andrew Ferguson's bought and read bore me.
As with Judge Jeanine, the intensity of Wilson’s hatred pushes him into errors of fact and logic. It’s simply not true that Paul Ryan will “defend any outrage” from Trump. He says Ted Cruz “responded meekly” when Trump insulted his wife and slandered his father. That’s not true either. He thinks “the GOP is the party of big government, and it’s all Trump’s fault.” Alas, Trump arrived rather late to that party ...
4. The Historian. Dinesh D’Souza’s fascinating Death of a Nation: Plantation Politics and the Making of the Democratic Party. Described as refreshing for being more than a book about Trump. It reminds Ferguson of the ascent of man charts that trace the evolution of humanity.
Johnson is central to D'Souza's thesis, claiming that newly released documents prove President Johnson was member of Ku Klux Klan and Johnson was central to Democrat about face from racist resistance to Civil Rights legislation to cynical support to break up black families and keep blacks at poverty level and continue voting Democrat. Ferguson disputes this idea and claims the new evidence is mere rumor.
To take one small example: Lyndon Johnson is a pivotal figure in D’Souza’s tale. Johnson, he writes, “is a man who, according to a memo filed by FBI agent William Branigan, seems to have been in the Ku Klux Klan.” He was? “This memo was only revealed in recent months, with the release of the JFK Files. Progressive media . . . have largely ignored it, trying to pretend it does not exist. Branigan cites a source with direct knowledge.” D’Souza then treats LBJ’s Klan membership as settled fact and a building block in his case against the Democrats.
I’ve got to side with the progressive media on this one. The FBI memo that D’Souza is using to misinform his readers was written in early 1964. It was released last year in the (presumably) final dump of government documents about the Kennedy assassination. It is a piece of raw intelligence, unverified, repeated with no assessment of its credibility. Branigan, the FBI agent, writes that a “confidential informant” told him that the editor of a magazine published by the Citizens’ Council of Louisiana, himself a Klan member, had told the informant that he, the editor, had seen documented proof that Johnson was a member in the 1930s.
No proof was provided.
Johnson is a pivotal figure for D’Souza because he presided over the period in which the party of racism somehow became the party of the Civil Rights Act, the Voting Rights Act, and the Fair Housing Act. In an ingenious and completely unsupported argument, D’Souza tells us that these legislative landmarks constituted a spectacular feat of misdirection.
5&6. The Russophiles. Gregg Jarrett’s The Russia Hoax: The Illicit Scheme to Clear Hillary Clinton and Frame Donald Trump. Craig Unger is on the other team. His House of Trump, House of Putin: The Untold Story of Donald Trump and the Russian Mafia. SKIP!
I despise all your books. All your new books that fill your head.
These are the type books I would read eagerly forty years ago and fancy myself getting smarter and better informed because of them.
My bookmark would be a stack of index cards ready for new words to look up. I had thousands of those in a cardboard file for them. But not now. There are no new words in these types of books, and there are no new ideas to expand my mind or aid my thinking. I laugh at your reading. Your books choices are keeping you thick.
No wonder your book shelves are groaning.
I can see it. People walk up to to your bookshelf and think to themselves, "Holy shit, what a bizarre collection of crackpot reading." Without bothering to examine any further than scanning a few titles. Not a single book would they be interesting investing time reading. And now they know you are a distorted personality.
The assent of man causes me to think of the assent of books. Goes like this:
Dick and Jane primers --> Classics --> Non fiction --> Fiction --> Bible --> Book of Urantia --> Pop-Up Books.
Hey!
I bought a new book.
It arrives tomorrow.
I've been waiting for its availability.
Wanna see it?
But first, I want to tell you something. People enter my home and walk up to my bookcase and scan titles. They see the titles of classics. They see big fat books predominating and that scares them. This convinces them of my scary deep intellectualism.
I say, "They're all pop-up books."
They look at me bemused and they grin.
That always happens.
The books' width belies their lightness, in physical weight and in heaviness of reading. They're each only a few pages and light as feathers.
They turn back to the book case and remove one. They flip through it. They realize that's done better sitting down with the book on their lap. They sit in a comfortable chair with a stack of big fat books and get lost in them flipping through through book after book.
For mine is a working library.
Grown men and women delight with discoveries. Classical tales POW right in their faces. Books they never bothered to read in words, now available in popping up pictures. "Hey, look at this." They say to each other. People actually sharing books, "What a Mess. It's about children cleaning their room. Look, a tornado, look a whirlpool. Ha ha ha ha ha." And then, "This one is all about birds." And "OMG, this one is Edgar Allen Poe, The Raven." They read aloud the whole book. And, "A whole book about beetles." And, "Here's one about butterflies."
Dinosaurs, Moby Dick, Peter Pan, Jungle Book, Castles, Sharks, Gods and Heroes, Star Wars, Predators, America, Frozen, Beauty and the Beast, Sendak and Reinhart's Hilarious Are You My Mommy?, Nascar, Narnia, The Walking Dead, Harry Potter, Princesses, 20,00 Leagues Under the Sea, Alive, The Ark, Cathedrals, Welcome to the Neighborhood, Alice in Wonderland, Oz, Elves, Fairies, Red Riding Hood, Hollywood, Tall Sailing Ships, Chanukah Lights, The Odyssey, The Little Prince, Hansel and Gretel, The Human Body, All Things Bright and Beautiful, The Pop-Up Book of Sex, Phobias, Mermaids, Nightmares, Alfred Hitchcock, Architecture, Halloween at the Zoo, Science, Leonardo Da Vinci, Snow White, Dragons and Monsters, Flowers, Sam's Sandwich, Animals, Bugs, Mice. Easter Dog, and many many more wonderfully imaginative books that cause you to wonder in delighted amazement about the author, how did you even write this book?
Visitors tell me how they love pop-up books. Couples share them. They pour through the entire collection deciding which ones to pull out and actually read. Right there. On the spot. Just a few minutes and they read the whole book.
And now a book about Persia. Before it was overakentay by religious uckheadsfay.
Zahhak The Legend of the Serpent King. How dramatic!
The date is mid July 2013. So that's what, five years 2 months ago. It was somebody else's birthday at a posh ranch house way up north and I mean w-a-a-a-a-y up north, like Erie Colorado, but strangely I was given a present. And I don't know why. The young man who gave me the present was more excited for me to open it than I was. I tore it open and saw a bubble machine in the shape of a pail. We fired it up. The young man was squeeing all over the place. He's very silly sometimes. It shot out a few bubbles and we closed it down. The place was too nice, too carefully taken care of to have soap bubbles popping all over the place, messing textiles and everything that is polished. It would be like blowing soap bubbles in the White House. So I waited until I got home, started it up again and videoed it, then uploaded the video to YouTube. Mostly so the young man can see it.
My videos support posts that I make elsewhere, they have no sense to them whatsoever on their own. They're all over the place, babbling brooks, American sign language, Egyptian hieroglyphs, aquariums, people walking in snow, naked people running by my apartment, I'm surprised anyone follows, there is no point to them, no interest to anyone on their own. Two views here, forty views there, seven here, fifty there, some political ones get a thousand, a Gordon Ramsay video gets several thousand, but I did not make that one. But this stupid video unrelated to anything gets twenty-eight hundred views. Apparently people were thinking of buying one.
It's only been used this one time, to show what it does.
If you choose to watch it, turn down your sound because it makes an annoying noise.
Hey. Do you wanna hear something?
This is incidental to Fubbles.
That party was strange.
I never go out there. It's too far. Too inconvenient. Too long a drive.
But that year I went twice in two weeks.
This guy, now dead, inherited a whole lot of money and bought a whole lot of contiguous Colorado prairie land about thirty years ago. He didn't want to do anything with it. He didn't want to use the land for anything. Rather, he wanted to protect the land and keep it for wildlife.
Hunter-types are like that.
You might be surprised how conscientious people are who like to shoot birds, and deer and such. They're out in nature all the time and they love it and they want to protect it. He was such a type.
That interest aligns with the interest of the state. And that meant he could use state resources to develop his land. He would follow state expert advice to terraform this way and that way to channel water to ponds, stock the ponds with turtles and fish, plant specific bushes in vast numbers in just the right places, in just the right numbers to encourage birds of specific types. Provide food for deer and the like.
One day he told me he was busy planting five thousand trees, and that seemed like an awful lot. He told me all about what they were doing. What the state was doing. How they back-hoed a ditch, laid down a mile of thick plastic, filled the ditch back, planted trees in a row along a road on his land.
Later I went out there and saw all these young scraggly trees spaced far apart. Some were doing okay while others were dying.
The year of this party I was taken there again (I get lost when I drive myself so then they made sure someone sensible drives me. That's another story.) And we drove on the road next to that row of trees to get to the house. They are now grown together forming a tree-wall some three trees thick. The windows were down in our vehicle and although we couldn't see any birds, it sounded like there were at least ten thousand birds roosting in there settling in for the night. It was the noisiest bunch of trees that I've ever heard. Seriously noisy squawking for a full mile.
What the state did to the place in cooperation with my friend was brilliant. And that goes to show you, to show me, that government can work with people, not always against them. The key is to find where your interests align and the state can make your way much easier for you. He had to agree not to farm the land for so many decades. But he never intended to anyway. Too much work.
So that year I went there twice.
There I am at an elegant home at an elegant table with elegant/outdoor type people and I'm served the butt-f'k'nest worst most thoughtless salad ever served. Lame-@ss wilted lettuce leaves drowning in vinegar.
I sat there and pushed around my shriveled lettuce leaves and actually felt sorry for myself. FUCK THIS!
What's wrong with you people ?
I know that they know that we all know that they know better than this. So what's wrong?
Huh?
Tired of entertaining are you?
Well e-x-c-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-s-e me for being such a burden.
I didn't expect to be invited back. Clearly entertaining is too much anymore.
Those days are gone.
Gone, gone, gone.
And then I'm invited back two weeks later.
"Sure. I'd love that. Thank you. But do, let me make the salads."
My offer was snatched up.
I am a very good salad maker.
I loaded a cooler with four iceberg lettuces and whipped up a quart of supreme blu cheese dressing.
I'd have large chunks of unusual things that you'd think do not go with blue cheese, like watermelon, cantaloupe, huge grapes, large chunks of avocado, mango, pineapple, large chunks of Colorado peaches.
But nothing regular like cucumber or carrot or tomato or onion.
Toasted sourdough croutons.
So a quarter of an iceberg lettuce as a mountain, and globs of blu cheese as snow top on the mountain, and all the rest as scree at the bottom filling the plate, but not touching the blu cheese.
That way each person can have unadulterated watermelon, untouched pineapple, pure grape, peach not messed with, and each person then can push fruit into the blue cheese on their own. Like it's their idea.
Not mine.
I did not mix them.
I was not expecting what happened next.
The guy next to me goes, "Wow."
He mixed some fruit with blu cheese and discovered an unexpected taste-sensation.
A woman at the end of the table goes, "Wow," she must have allowed some fruit to touch blu cheese and discovered an unexpected taste sensation.
Male voice, "Wow."
Female voice, "Wow."
Female voice, "Wow."
Male voice, "Wow."
Male voice, "Wow."
Individually eventually everyone at the whole table said simply "Wow," and I thought that was it. But then they pushed something else into blu cheese and said, "Wow" again.
Again and again and again.
Each person said, "Wow" several times.
And several times twelve is a lot.
I started laughing because the whole table sounded like this:
But I must say. That salad really was good. Everything bright and fresh. Watermelon touched with blu cheese really is a delightful new taste sensation. Followed by grape touched with blu cheese. Then peach touched with blu cheese. It's quite extraordinary, watery taste explosions in your mouth.
People said they were finished. They were satisfied. Those salads acted like entree and dessert. People were done.
In a way, I basically ruined the dinner.
Someone took care of me immediately. But I do not know who.
Because two days later a very small thin but stiff envelope arrived in the mail. It contained a small greeting card that said simply, "thanks for the salad" with two $50.00 gift credit cards to Whole Foods.
That never happened before. I never got a $100 for making salads before. That was a one-time thing.
