To be entirely too pleased with myself.

That mysterious box I sent oneironaut turned up today.

( And these were the results. . . )

Today in Marketing

First: the weirdest marketing call I've gotten so far.

Phone rings; I answer.

Male voice, about my brother's age I'd guess, monotone: This is Rich calling from Ocean Glass. *pause almost long enough for me to interject, "Yes, and?"* We're calling to see if you own a car with a crack in the windshield.

No, we do not.

Thank you. *silence*

I hang up, bewildered.

Second: I get email from the beer and wine hobby shop. They do a Christmas-in-July sale. I fall over laughing; for once a Christmas in July sale that makes sense.

Third: Not marketing so much as the car dealership calling up to ask whether there were any comments on the servicing. I actually knew what he had to say about it, and so I explained where the service had been deemed inadequate. She ended the conversation fairly abruptly for some reason.

Soup, redux

Made hot and sour soup this time, for dinner. Had the stuff for it and I didn't want it to go weird. (I'd have made it before but my fresh shiitake mushrooms . . . sort of melted in the heat. I broke out the dried stuff.)

I'm out of rice vinegar. Odds of my remembering this next time I'm at the grocery are very thin. I had to make up the difference with white vinegar.

Mm, soup.

. . . Schilling has more _wins_ than _walks_. Dear gods.