There is a brand of bouillon cube that is both vegan and gluten-free, called Not Chik'n,

I am super psyched to try this. I have been using Pacific broth, but I'd rather not use all that aseptic packaging. Not to mention suffering fewer creatures to die for me.

Woot. I really do learn all the best stuff here.

I'll admit I'm fond of a good butter dish myself, but I think if you use it regularly you need at least two so you can swap out the dirty for a clean one immediately and don't need to wait to wash it.

Dang y'all, posting about which deaths you remember? On Thanksgiving no less! I find that amusing somehow. I could never forget John Lennon's death, mostly because I, like many of my friends, wore black the next day and we had a test in history class but the teacher rescheduled it since we were all in mourning. I remember the moon landings because my mom would wake us up so we could watch them. We had a huge map of the moon on the wall, and my mom would put a pin in to mark where they had landed. Challenger I remember vividly. And I remember the Nixon impeachment quite well.

Bob Marley's death I remember. We wore black armbands for a week, and Nadine Sutherland (yes, I'm calling you out, bitch¹) was rude to me and said I didn't have the right to wear one, because I wasn't a real Jamaican.

WTF? I go into the doctor, he asks for tests, and office policy is they'll call if there's anything important. So I do my normal haphazard filing with the results, which is to sort them, but not open them. Well, I just opened them, and apparently I have gallstones and a renal cyst. Uh, okay, maybe I don't have serious gallstones or a major kidney cyst (which I now have to look up), but surely they warrant a bit of conversation started by him? No?

Ah, well. Something else for my to do list. Follow up on abnormal but not noteworthy ultrasound results.

¹: I'd let it go, but she said this year that she'd never been anything but nice to me, but that's just a local celebrity covering her ass. So, whatevs, Nadders.

I'll admit I'm fond of a good butter dish myself, but I think if you use it regularly you need at least two so you can swap out the dirty for a clean one immediately and don't need to wait to wash it.

That's what I do. I have a clear glass one with a cow on the lid (sort of carved into the inside? But molded I'm sure) and a purple Fiesta Ware and whichever one is not currently in use is on a little display shelf in the kitchen (after it's been washed, of course) so I can still enjoy it even when it is not full of delicious butter. I keep being drawn to butter bells, but I don't think I would actually use them.

The Challenger--Harry's Diner in La Jolla with my husband. I argued with the waitress, I was so in shock.

Nixon's resignation--Topeka, at the home of Republican relatives.

Jim Henson--I have no idea where I was. All I can remember is a sick feeling all over my body and immediately bursting into tears.

Weirdly, I've only ever had that same reaction when my friend Liz died on Pan Am 103. Obviously, I did not love Jim Henson the way I loved her, but his work was so MUCH a part of my life.

I feel like I should write a chapter in my memoirs about the role of television in keeping me sane as a child. Being able to watch loving people being kind to each other was more valuable than I can describe. Plus? Adults encouraging kids to be smart?

It's no mystery, I suppose that Sesame Street was banned in my house. (As was the Waltons) I snuck PBS onto the tv as often as I could!

I'd let it go, but she said this year that she'd never been anything but nice to me, but that's just a local celebrity covering her ass. So, whatevs, Nadders.

Denial. Every mean person's friend.

I remember the Challenger disaster because I watched it with Chris Knight, the actor who played Peter Brady on the Brady Bunch. It added that extra level of WTF to the event.

I was in college when John Lennon was killed and my friend Michael came into my room, "Did you hear the news? John Lennon was shot and killed!" Oddly everybody in our circle of friends immediately thought about our friend Dan, who'd really gotten into John Lennon's solo work in the previous year, particularly the Plastic Ono Band album.

Well, I just opened them, and apparently I have gallstones and a renal cyst. Uh, okay, maybe I don't have serious gallstones or a major kidney cyst (which I now have to look up), but surely they warrant a bit of conversation started by him? No?

Uh, yeah. My doctor's office calls with any non-normal results. That seems WTFfy.

So I ran out to do some errands while the laundry ran (I am so lazy, I like to go outside once I've gone down to the basement), and accidentally swung into Lord & Taylor, where I got Anne Klein boots for $64.50! They were half off, and I got $20 off for going in the morning. Merry Christmas, Jesse!

Every mean person's friend.

Funny/ironic/whatever thing was, she was really mean to my sister when she denied it. But for some reason, it was really important to her after my scant two years at school with her, to gush like we'd been best friends. I'm guessing it's pro-active PR, and she was everyone's best friend, and it was most important to gush where it wasn't true, in case her public reputation got tarnished with bitch and borderline bully.

You people are justifying me owning at least two butter dishes! Thank you! Let me at least not make them the same one.

-t, can you share pictures of your kitchen sometime? I have to admit, I kind of have environment envy of you and your kitchen stuff.

I'm having a really interesting discussion about whether or not talent actually exists, or if it is all just hard work. I'm told that the literature consensus is that there is no "talent," only hard work and varying degrees of intelligence.

I don't think there are any known genetic markers for "music" in the way there are for eye color. But I'm unsure how that would be defined, anyway.