Good – You make two batches of vanilla extract each year. The recipe is several vanilla beans, sliced lengthwise and placed in a whiskey bottle, along with 750ml of whatever distilled alcohol you like. You usually use something neutral like vodka or moonshine, but have dabbled with different bourbons. Let soak in a dark place for four to six months, turning about once every month or so.

Also good – You just finished the latest batch of vanilla extract, filling up your ‘in-use’ bottle just before the holiday baking season. You place said bottle on the shelf above the stove for easy access when it’s needed.

Excellent – Your darling wife, the queen of your universe, hurries home from work to make dinner. Tonight’s meal was egg roll stir fry, a family favorite. During said dinner preparation, she turns on the rather strong fan above the cooktop to vent out the steam from her cooking.

Not good – The fan appears to be a little out of balance and in need of cleaning, because it started to vibrate a tad. By ‘a tad’, I mean it reached a harmonic that vibrated the extremely full bottle of homemade vanilla extract off its shelf and down onto the glass cooktop.

Good – The glass cooktop was not harmed by the impact of 750ml of homemade vanilla extract falling about 3 feet at 32 feet per second per second.

Not good – Said bottle of homemade vanilla extract did not survive its fall.

Good – The entire kitchen and eventually the entire house now smells like your grandmother’s sugar cookies.

Not good – You were a little hungry when this all happened. You move to ‘ravenous’ while you mop up the vanilla. Pavlov’s got nothing on grandma’s cookies.

Good – Nobody was harmed by the shards of glass, and the 3/4 of a liter of vanilla extract was mopped up within about 15 minutes.

Not good – The vanilla extract and broken glass splashed across about half the kitchen, including into the wok. This also includes the half liter of extract that ran down the front of the cupboards under the cooktop and into the drawers where all of your mixing bowls and all of our pans and lids are stored.

Good – You were able to get all of the glass picked/swept up without cutting yourself or anyone else, the vanilla extract puddles in various drawers was cleaned up rather quickly, and pizza can be delivered to your home.

Not good – Every single mixing bowl, pan, and pan lid you own had to be pulled from the drawers, along with the shelf liner at the bottom of the drawer, and washed to make sure that the next time you make spaghetti, it doesn’t come out smelling like vanilla ice cream topped with marinara.

Good – You were thinking you needed to replace the shelf liners anyway, so throwing the old liners out was not that big a deal.

Not good – You cannot find the roll of shelf liner you thought you had stored safely, so all of those dishes are currently sitting on your counters and kitchen table until you can go to Walmart tomorrow to buy more shelf liner.

Horrible – Your latest batch of vanilla extract won’t be ready for use until March at the earliest. You make plans to go to the restaurant supply store tomorrow to buy the biggest bottle of vanilla extract known to mankind. Your wallet is already crying softly and rocking itself in the corner of your back pocket.

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There are two modes I go through when cleaning out a closet.

The first is “Oh, I remember where we got this. Ah, memories! How could I even consider parting with this?”

The second is “Where in the $!#!$ did this come from? I have no memory of this, so I have no idea why we have it. It’s either to the garbage, recycling, or donation bin with it!”

This week, I’ve had the discipline to have the second attitude, and my closets haven’t looked this good since we moved in years ago.

Note to the city fathers of Nashville – if a large parking garage in your busy downtown area is going to be closed, how about you remove or cover up the “Hey, go to the next street over and go in that entrance to park!” signs. Would have saved me 20 minutes in pouring rain and Friday night traffic just to go park at the garage a block from my hotel instead of the closed one connected to it.

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Got in and out of a Bucees in less than 15 minutes and for less than $30 on the way to Nashville. I’ll call that a win.

Of course, I made up for that when I stopped again on the way home, but we don’t need to talk about that.

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Bought the wife a bourbon and a beer before going to the concert.

Kind of like feeding a Mogwai after midnight.

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“But, Tom!” you say, “You have to have fireworks and backup singers and dancers and lasers and lip syncing to give a great concert.”

Bullshit.

Pat Benatar was out there kicking ass with a guitar player, a bass player, a drummer and a stage. I just hope I still have that much energy and power when I get to be her age.

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You think you have decent water pressure at home until you stay at a hotel with REAL water pressure and you can feel the first few layers of old skin stripping off.

I think I lost a few of the little wrinkles around my eyes there.

The bar has been raised, and I have a new condition for any new home we buy.

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When your hotel room is on the 15th floor and you can still hear the sirens below, you know it’s going to be an interesting evening.

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One difference between a travel hotel off the interstate and a tourist hotel downtown is that the pastries downtown are served on actual dishes and have texture.

I like my inexpensive sleep, eat, and leave hotels, but a place with chocolate croissants and cheese grits for breakfast is nice every so often.

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The hotel we were staying was hosting a retreat for people of faith this weekend. It made for some interesting juxtapositions.

Imagine if you will this scene – a six foot something dude with a scowling expression and a tee shirt that reads “30% Stud, 70% Muffin”, accompanied by a woman who is having a one sided debate on whether or not to stop at a distillery on our way home and what our budget at said stop would be and whether or not we should stop at Bucees for gas and snacks again.

All around us are women in their church dresses and clergy of several denominations trying to get their minds around their mission from the Almighty. Some of the clergy look amused at our attire and talk, some of the women looked shocked.

It probably didn’t help that when Irish Woman noticed, she apologized for being ‘heathens’.

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I started to have some faith in humanity, but then I heard that scammers are calling family who have people missing from the crash in Louisville. They claim to be from the government with information about their loved ones, but demand payment before releasing it.

Old Scratch is going to have to open up a whole new wing in Hell for this lot.

While we’re on the subject, I would like the current-day Zapruder wannabes to take a pause and consider the value of their soul for a moment. Nobody needs a frame by frame analysis of a plane crash where the narrator goes into detail what’s going through the pilot’s mind at that exact second or what the folks on the ground heard as a jumbo jet fell out of the sky on top of them.

Note to self – When making chicken that you intend to sear in a pan, seasoning said hen with ‘Slap Yo Mama’ seasoning mix might sound good, and will likely taste good, be advised that the outgassing from the chicken while it is getting seared is very close to riot gas in your reaction.

Not sure if it was the spices or citrus or whatever, but I haven’t had this kind of reaction in quite a long time.

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Note to self –

Two small-to-medium pie pumpkins will give you about 3 pounds of puree once halved, gutted, roasted, emptied, and run through the blender.

Also, the correct amount of bourbon to add to pumpkin pie mix is 1 borkle-borkle per pumpkin.

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Driving across Louisville and back the long way on a rainy day can try your patience.

After the 7th time some troglodyte out on a day pass cut me off in traffic so blatantly I heard my deceased grandmother cussing in German, I had a mental picture.

It was of a coffee table book entitled ‘From Crassus to Kratman: Using Crucifixion To Promote Social Change’.

After I got home, I went inside and enjoyed a nice cup of cocoa and a cookie until my attitude improved.

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Love is shoving your fingers in the fuzzy piranha’s mouth because she’s trying to chew a nickel and you don’t want to practice the Heimlich on a canine first thing in the morning.

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Note to self – It is forbidden for you to pour chocolate gravy into a mug, top it off with a dollop of half and half, and indulge in its rich, creamy, sinful goodness.

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Man hath no love like a labrador puppy watching her human separate out the bones from a crockpot full of stock.

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Note to self – The dude from the Interior Department sent in to investigate weird animal sightings will be Ray Gareaux. He’s out of the Baton Rouge field office.

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That moment when you’re in the groove, adding hundreds upon hundreds of words to a story, and then everything comes to a screeching halt when your brain asks ‘Do gnomes even have tails?’