Among my many noteworthy accomplishments today:

I finally got rid of that hideous Monster MalachiteTM square plate and replaced it with a delicately fluted saucer that matches Bitch Kitty’s elegant Velvety VerdigrisTM food bowl.

Now her basement café is just downright fucking classy.

It's National Punctuation Day!

Since I have no punctuation platters, I'm celebrating by posting a picture of our grammar plate in the hopes that it will be a catalyst for launching a National Grammar Plate Day. In the mean time, here's a friendly Punctuation Day reminder from me to you: You are issued a mere 25 exclamation points each diacritical year. That's two per month plus a birthday wildcard. Use your exclamation points judiciously. Once they're gone, you are rendered exclamation-pointless until the beginning of the next diacritical year. If you get convicted of exclamation abuse in that time, you'll serve a very long sentence.

Ahem.

Platelets!

My dad sold dinnerware door-to-door in college, and he carried tiny, adorable little plate samples with him to show potential customers the available patterns. The tiny, adorable little plate samples somehow just resurfaced in our house, and I can hardly stand how cute they are.

Ode to Spode

Facebook memories tells me that apparently I post an annual photo of our profligate collection of Spode tableware after I (artfully, natch) set the table for our Norwegian Christmas Eve feast. So here’s this year’s submission of tableservice documentation, along with my clever location concept for our stockings — with mine closest to the door and therefore the first to be encountered by Santa when he enters our chimneyless condo so I get the biggest haul of solar panels since they’re more efficient than coal.

It's apparently National Punctuation Day

And I'm celebrating by posting a picture of our grammar plate in the hopes that it will be a catalyst for launching a National Grammar Plate Day.

In the mean time, here's a friendly Punctuation Day reminder from me to you: You are issued a mere 25 exclamation points each diacritical year. That's two per month plus a birthday wildcard. Use your exclamation points judiciously. Once they're gone, you are rendered exclamation-pointless until the beginning of the next diacritical year. If you get convicted of exclamation abuse in that time, you'll serve a very long sentence. Ahem.