In 2007, advertisements talking about how much money you could make sitting on your butt if you would just BUY THEIR SECRET were at least interesting.    

We got tales of people making obnoxious amounts of money selling stuff on the interwebs or flipping houses using a secret government auction list or whatever.

Now look what we've come to ... even the spam marketers (somehow appearing in a remnant ad on our site, I must note, so remind me to find out who they are and eliminate them) have dialed it down.

Last night we attended the "Science of Fine Wines" event in support of the Sacramento Discovery Science&Space Museum.

This was, as you can imagine, not a hard science event.   The Museum itself is devoted primarily to helping kids understand science and the attendees were primarily there to drink wine.   But when we talked to them about it a 'science of cheese' portion made sense because it lent itself to a hands-on lab.

A short while ago, the wife saw me working feverishly on yet another project, this one involving clothes, and came to investigate.   Why?   Well, she's pretty agreeable about work done outside or in the garage and mostly tolerant about things I do in my den - unlike most men, for example, she lets me watch all the sports I want, as long she is in Asia on business and I keep it on mute.

But she turns into a Wizard Of Oz-style tornado of rage if I get near our kitchen granite countertops with a drill bit and maintains an irrational skepticism about other internal projects regardless of how many times I have paid people to fix things I have messed up.