Tom, stay warm.

Lessons learned at breakfast: I can make an excellent sandwich from the fixings for congee(?): cilantro, spinach, shredded carrots, green onions, sesame oil, Siracusa, and pepper.

That was supposed to be Siracha but I can't spell it no matter what.

Upholding his right as an American to be an annoying blowhard who makes everyone else wait while he bloviates.

That guy was a narcissistic nightmare.

I wonder if he would boycott a doctor who's a democrat if he was bleeding to death in an emergency room.

Probably just complain loudly about how he pays his premiums and he shouldn't have to put up with that kind of ideologically-compromised healthcare.

There is a reason I work from home, generally. Hanging out in the coffee shop, I get caught up on conversations about the fire, I have a hard time blocking out the surrounding conversations, and it is kinds chilly. At home, I can control the temp and the noise.

There is a table in front of me with three generations of women. The kid is adorable but feinding for mom's coffee drink. There is a table behind me where two business partners are having a very calm but forceful arguement. Then there is the couple across the way who need to go get a room.

I just know if I head home, as soon as I get comfy there, the boys will call for me to go pick them up.

To create natter, I am happy to announce that I bought two coats yesterday. I am going to our Minneapolis office at the end of the month and a week later to stay with my mom, so I thought it was time to replace my 15-year-old winter jacket and long coat. Got a pretty fake shearling coat and a plain black down jacket for $150, thanks to Burlington Coat Factory, Friend to Cheapskates.

I'm finally going to break down and buy some more clothes. I'm tired of the ones I have, and some of them are starting to fray in places that aren't easily repaired, which doesn't really go over well at work, even in my birki-tastic office environment. J. Jill has a few tunics and sweaters that look nice.

I am really unhappy with my looks right now, A big part of it is weight and part is just, I dunno, not gracefully accepting that I am 56 years old. After seeing myself in the mirror while trying on coats, I was in a bad bad BAD mood. It resulted in my asking my DH, "When I get older,likein my 60s, are you going to find me attractive?" It's the kind of gotchya question I think is unfair to ask, but it just kinda popped out. Of course he told me he would, but it didn't help and I felt like a schmo for even going there.

You could read this, which I thought was from the onion, but in fact, is not;

I wonder how his followers are going to avoid government assistance if they divorce their Obama-voting spouses and quit the jobs provided by Obama-voting employers.

You look great, Scrappy. Never believe the thoughts that come to you when you're forced to look at yourself for a long time in mirrors with bad lighting.