strange world – strange times – strange dude
YES, I believe that you can clean ANYTHING with the proper vacuum!
Take a street sweeper truck, modify it so that it has a big hose that you can drag around. Roll up to a property, vacuum up all of the old mulch, flip a switch and blow in all new mulch. Why does this vehicle not exist?
Until then, I will just use my Shop Vac to pick up all the little pieces of old mulch that get washed into the yard…
A recent trip to the Olive Garden made me think of a classic tale that I wanted to share…
Many moons ago (e.g. before kids), we went with some friends to dine at the Olive Garden, one of Jenny’s favorite spots. She ordered the Capellini Pomodoro, one of her favorite dishes. A few bites into the meal, she stopped and pointed out something strange in her pasta – a shiny, silver wingnut!
Needless to say, we were all perplexed as to how such a thing could end up in her food. The manager came out and explained that they use a mechanical press to smash tomatoes for sauce. They disassemble it in order to clean it and indeed there are lots of wingnuts and screws involved. Somehow, one wingnut had made it into the sauce.
Jenny got a free meal and dessert out of it and we decided that she was lucky to have spotted it before chomping on it. I would have insisted on getting to take home an entire pan of tiramisu if that had happened. 
Work has been really busy lately and we’ve got a lot of stuff going on. First thing this morning, I walked down to Third Street Stuff, a favorite coffee shop a couple of blocks from campus, to start things off with a latte. Normally I go with some of my staff, but today I wanted some quiet time to think about things before starting the day.
Hendrick, the manager, knows us pretty well and I guess he could tell that I had a lot on my mind. He fixed up my drink and said “I put some sprinkles on there for you”. I smiled and popped the top off to have a look as I stepped out the door… Hendrick, thanks for starting my day off right!
They come home from school. It is like any other day. They are talking. I am standing in the kitchen. Mommy hands me a sheet of paper. I look at it.
My head starts to sweat. They are still talking, but now I can’t hear clearly. Retelling the story from the car… “Don’t laugh Mommy, it’s a love letter to Mason!” … “Does he write them to you?” … “No, but I am going to try to get him to write one!”
Now my eyes hurt. She is talking to me now. Telling me about ladybugs they have at school. I see her mouth move, but I hear different words. “I want a big wedding, Daddy!” It is like slow motion, like a car wreck.
The room is turning. I’ve made her repeat it many times in jest. “I can’t get married until I’m thirty.” She doesn’t know what it means. She doesn’t know.
Now we are outside. She is playing. With the boy next door. I can’t see, it is too bright. I only hear her laughing.
There is no spoon. There is no spoon.
