Well, winter finally arrived to Baton Rouge this weekend. By winter, I mean that on Saturday, there were only a handful of hours during the middle of the day where it was warm enough to wear shorts, and even then, only because the hatred of long pants outweighs the discomfort of cold legs in my book.

This description of a very short exchange is longer than the actual post.

Overall, I get too much email. I went back to a regular week from last October and counted the messages in my various email accounts.

They say that Superbowl Sunday is the biggest day of the year for wife-beatings. There's simply no reason for that. It's easy to come to a common agreement if you just try a little bit. For example,

There's a plague going around Baton Rouge's sports bars, and no one even seems to care. The problem is waffle fries. By my count, Walk Ons, Pluckers, and Champs have all chosen waffle fries over real fries on their menu. Now, I know that the only purpose of fries is to act as the shovel, to get ketchup or cheese, or if you're really brave, chili and jalapenos into your gullet.

Last Summer, I noticed an odd new mole on my shoulder. It was skinny, and it stuck up enough that you could wiggle it back and forth. When Summer ended, I started wearing a shirt more often, and since it was at the base of my neck where I couldn't see, I forgot all about it. Heck, it might have gone away altogether.

I Google myself from time to time, just to see what other yahoos with my name are out there doing. Believe me, there are some people putting up much more embarassing stuff than I am.

Yesterday, I had a five-side combo plate at Serop's Express, a nearby Greek and Lebanese cafeteria-style restaurant. I like the Lebanese bean salad as one of my sides. It consists of little red beans, something green (parsley or cilantro, maybe?), something to give it moisture, and lots of white specks of minced garlic. Yum.

I have this little sheet of paper where I jot down ideas for posts as I think of them or as I have them suggested to me. This gives me the illusion that I have tons of ideas to share with everyone, but when I read line by line down the list, it becomes amazingly clear how little I really have to say to you guys.

I spent all day Friday and Saturday on an errand that kept me in the car all day. Here are three things I learned from two straight days of talk radio.

I have the damnedest problems with this one particular landscape light in the front yard. The thing's either not lit, or burning dimly as a candle. Each time I clean things up and get it fixed, something else goes wrong.

Last week, I looked up from my desk as a new woman was being led through the office from area to area for the "first day new guy tour." The proper etiquette, of course, is to nod politely and say, "Welcome aboard," as if we're all happy little shipmates. For some reason, I was possessed to boo. I didn't get too obnoxious with it. It was just a medium-volume, low-pitched booooooooo, similar to what I would do when the opponents come out on court to warm up before a basketball game.