Tonight’s episode of The Office was a mighty fine one indeed, with a nice combination of Pam and Jim tenderness, Michael awkwardness, deferred dream bittersweetness, and PLENTY-O-ANDYNESS.

Loved it.

A few highlights:

1. “My grandfather would be spinning in his URN if he knew I was out here with a Dartmouth boy.”

2. “I got my knot on.”

3. “Maybe for you paper should be more of a hobby.”

4. “…and then you sneezed in my tea, and then you said it was just allergies.”

5. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. And don’t call me Shirley.”

6. Andy and the golf cart, OH MY WORD.

7. Michael’s commentary on the kissing, which was simultaneously creepy and hysterical, but definitely more hysterical than creepy.

And I know it’s silly, but I was so proud of Jim getting that paper contract that I wanted to hug him. Despite the fact that he’s a made-up person working at a made-up paper company.

But still. It all felt VERY REAL to me.

So. Thoughts?

I came home from Bible study to find emails from Emily, who was trying to find a WordPress plug-in that will give me numbered comments again, and Jennifer, who - you won’t even believe this - PUT ALL YOUR GIVEAWAY COMMENTS INTO A SPREADSHEET AND NUMBERED THEM.

No kidding. I almost cried.

And that spreadsheet is how I know that the winner of The Romance Collection is Mandy.

Mandy, if you’ll email me your mailing address, I’ll put your DVD’s in the mail tomorrow.

And internets, if WordPress does return to the numbered comment format, I may have to find me some real-live comment counters. Because I’ve spent most of my adult life trying to avoid math in any form, and I can’t help but feel as if my blog has betrayed me just a teensy bit.

What with all the numbers and the counting and whathaveyou.

Anyway.

I’m going to watch “The Office” now.

And congratulations, Mandy!

(p.s. Emily found a plug-in - it’s called Better Comments Manager, and it numbers the comments for each post like MAGIC! Except that it numbers them with the most recent comments first. But still. It’s a start. And I am grateful.)

Hey y’all -

I’m trying to figure out the winner of the Romance Collection DVD giveaway, but I’ve now counted comments twice and gotten two different winners. And I know that there’s code I can enter to make WordPress number the comments again, but do y’all remember a couple of weeks ago? When I tried to add code? AND THE WHOLE BLOG DISAPPEARED?

So as soon as I get the same name three times in a row, I will post the name of the winner.

In the meantime, send chocolate. Send lots and lots of chocolate.

Not to mention coffee.

Because math makes me very tired.

A few weeks ago we started noticing that whenever I used the oven, the kitchen started to smell like dead fish.

And as we all know, there is nothing quite like the odor of dead fish to convey to your dinner guests that CULINARY DELIGHTS, THEY ARE SERVED HERE.

I figured that something was probably on the burner (?) (element?) (thing inside the oven that turns red?), but even after wiping out the inside of the oven, using the self-cleaning deal, and wiping out the inside of the oven again, the smell stuck around.

It lingered, if you will.

So my best friend Google and I, we did some research. And Google told me that there might be a wiring issue of some sort, so I quickly relayed that information to my husband, seeing as how he handles all our home repair issues.

(I do not venture into home repair issues unless we’re facing a dire emergency because I inevitably get terribly intimidated when dealing with repairmen. They speak a language I do not understand. And when I try to speak their language, I oftentimes cry. So it really is better if I stay out of the home repair picture.)

This past Friday an electrician came to check out our oven - along with some outlets that have been giving us trouble - and while he was here he happened to look over at our dishwasher. Then he said, “You know, I think there’s a recall on that - you might want to check it out.”

And sure enough, when D looked up the serial number online, there was a very urgent message saying DO NOT USE YOUR DISHWASHER! DANGER! FIRE! DISHWASHER COULD CAUSE A FIRE WITH MANY FIERY, HOT FLAMES OF BLAZY DESTRUCTION!

Or something like that.

Anyway, the electrician said we need an appliance repairman for the oven issue, and we ordered the replacement part for the dishwasher, so now we’re waiting on said appliance repairman to call us and set up an appointment so I’ll know when to leave the house and make a Starbucks run while D sorts out the problems with the expert.

Because did I mention that I’m intimidated by repairmen?

I wasn’t sure if I’d covered that or not.

This morning D opened the dishwasher - I guess to make sure that it hadn’t, you know, BURNED UP - and when he saw that there were dirty dishes inside, he said, “Have you, um, been using this?”

And I told him the absolute truth: that I have in fact used it one time since we found out about the recall BUT I only did a light wash AND I stood in the kitchen the whole time the dishwasher was running.

Then he grinned in that way that lets me know he would probably take the time to question my sanity a little more thoroughly if not for the fact that he’s already PLEDGED TO SPEND THE REST OF HIS LIFE WITH ME, and he said, “So you know that you standing in the kitchen isn’t necessarily going to stop a fire from starting back behind the door panel, right?”

“Oh yes,” I replied. “I totally know that.”

And I don’t really know why I just shared that anecdote except to maybe offer further proof that spending six years in the American higher education system is absolutely no guarantee for having, you know, GOOD SENSE.

Because I’m sure that if a fire had in fact started in our dishwasher, I would have found great solace and comfort in the fact that AT LEAST I DIDN’T HAVE TO HANDWASH THOSE PESKY DISHES.

Okay. We recorded this last week. And it took a sweet forever to get it edited and uploaded and whatnot because we forgot to record an ending, so then we had to go back and record an ending, and then we chased about four hundred rabbits when we recorded the ending, so I decided to just tack on all that stuff, too, because SWEET MERCY, HAVEN’T THE SIX OF YOU WHO LISTEN TO THESE THINGS WAITED LONG ENOUGH?

So besides that, I really don’t know what else to say. Except that Travis does an imitation of Neil Diamond that makes Melanie and me laugh until we wheeze. And we talk about American Idol and NASCAR and our ongoing sound issues and the songs Travis sang in 8th grade chorus. We also answer some of your questions (thanks for those, internets), repeat some stories we’ve told before (JUST LIKE YOUR GREAT UNCLE LARRY! ONLY NOT!) and laugh sort of an obnoxious amount. You should expect no less.

Also: Travis wants the whole world to know that HE PLANTED SOME TREES.

Hallelujah and amen.

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