Here goes. Last weekend I spied something at the pawn shop that tickled my fancy. (Note: Keep in mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled.) I bought something really cool for my wife. The occasion was our 22nd anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my sweet girl. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sixed Tazer gun with a clip. For those of you who are not familiar with this product, it it a less-than-lethal stun gun with two metal prongs designed to incapacitate an assailant with a shock of high-voltage, low amperage electricity while you flee to safety. The effects are suppose to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, but allowing you adeqate time to retreat to safety. You simply jab the prongs into your 250 lb tattooed assailant, push the button, and it will render him a slobbering, goggle-eyed, muscle-twitching, whimpering, pencil-neck geek. If you've never seen one of these things in action, then you're truly missing out- way too cool! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the dam thing and pushed the button..... Nothing! I was so disappointed. Upon reading the directions (we don't need no stinkin' directions), I found much to my chagrin that this particular model would not create an arc between the prongs. How disappointing !! I do love a little fire for effect. I learned that if I pushed the button, however, and pressed it against a metal surface that I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs that I was so looking forward to. I did so! Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arc of electricity, and a loud pop!!! Yipeeee... I'm easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet to explain to my wife whatt he burn spot is on the face of her microwave. Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, etc. etc. There I sat in my recliner, my dog looking on intently (trusting little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not the dog) and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must admit I thought about zapping the dog for a fraction of a second and thought better of it. She is such a sweet pup, after all. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger. I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong? Was I wrong to think that? Seemed reasonable to me at the time. So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, tazer in the other. The directions said that: A one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; A two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a loss of bodily control; A three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water... All the while I'm looking at this LITTLE device (measuring about 5 inches long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference, pretty cute really and loaded with two itsy bitsy AAA batteries) thinking to myself, "no friggin' way!" Friggin' way -- trust me, but I'm getting ahead of myself. What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best. I was sitting there alone, the dog looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, "don't do it buddy," reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny lil' ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad.. (sound, rational thinking under the circumstances, wouldn't you agree?) I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the hell of it. (Note: You know, a bad decision is like hindsight - always 20/20. It is so obvious that it was a bad decision after the fact, even though it seemed so right at the time. (Don't ya hate that?) I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY ****** !!!!! I'm pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran in through the front door, picked me up out of that recliner, then body slammed me on the carpet over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position. The dog was standing over me making sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "do it again, do it again!" NOTE: If you ever feel compelled to mug yourself with a tazer, one note of caution.... There is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself! You're not going to let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by violent thrashing about on the floor. Then if you're lucky, you won't jam one of the prongs 1/2 inch deep in your thigh like yours truly. SON-OF-A-BISQUIT- EATER that hurt! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at this point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they get there?? My triceps, right thigh and both titties were still twitching... and I swear I smelled burning flesh and hair.. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, as my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs give or take an ounce or two, I'm pretty sure. By the way has anyone seen my testicles? I think they rolled away. I'm offering a reward. They're round rather large. Miss'em.... sure would like to get'em back. It's good to know that the wife will be safe from stupid assailants..... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I absolutely love these Zuzek roses from this Norwegian tradition and at times I've had all of them. Sigrid and Sven are pink balls of virtually nonstop blooms all season. Those two top out at about 3' high and about as much wide. The blooms are probably multiple petals but they're small and the appeal is the blooms en masse rather than any individual blooms. They stay mannerly but are nearly constant bloomers. Ole and Lena (which I presume are the first bred, given the ubiquitous nature of those names in Norwegian stories) are lower whitish blooming flowers that are maybe 1.5 feet high and wider than tall. They have fewer petals but the same nearly nonstop blooming habit. I had my rose society out to view my newly reconstituted rose garden this spring and out of all the Austins or Hybrid Teas or floribundas blooming, the president took multiple pictures of Lena in full bloom. My impression of these four roses is that they fit well within the scope of hybrid musks, though they are shrubs by designation. They have an informal quality but the pop of bright pink color of Sigrid and Sven add a punch to the usually pale colors of most hybrid musks (of course Wilhelm and Nur Mahal have that pink color too). They are tip hardy in zone 5 so the zone 3 designation is something I find personally quite plausible, but obviously not testable in my garden. I love these roses and am anxiously hoping to replace Sigrid (my favorite) this year from Northland (an awesome rose vendor). Cynthia

You could always slide something non flammable and relatively insulating under there. For example, MSC sells carbon fiber welding blankets that are less than a quarter of an inch thick that will minimize heat transfer and not be a hazard at any temperature the oven can induce. (I temporarily put down large sized ones in front of a rarely run fireplace to protect an oriental carpet from any errant sparks.) If the oven expects air to flow under there, then care has to be taken to not bunch up the material such as to block the air path. The old asbestos cement sheets would have worked (with some deficiencies), and there could be ceramic fiber versions of that material available. Even the cement board used under tile installations could be considered for this purpose and easily obtained. kas

“A pirate walks into a bar with a steering wheel sticking out of his pants. The bartender says, ‘Do you know you have a steering wheel in your pants?’ and the pirate says, ‘Aargh! It’s drivin’ me nuts!’”