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..... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

LOL. Andy Rooney usually does come up with painfully funny truths. His quip about the zuccninis reminds me of the old classic about the man who buys his first house and wants to garden, so he hauls over to his local garden center, buys all the equipment and a bunch of tomato seedlings, spending a small fortune in the process. As he is leaving, he asks the salesman when he should expect to able to eat his tomatoes and the man replies: "Oh, right about when they are a dime a pound at the farm stands."

Ok, I pooped out much too quickly and wasn't getting anything done and the sod cookie mystery got me so here is what I think happened. They didn't have self rising flour back then so could it be soda and they forgot to write the a ? I found this recipe but doubt its the same as yours but the only one that had anything like sod in it, lol. It does say on most they can be made up to a month early and are better with age as Lucy said. I ate nearly my whole bag of candy and the orange last night, lol. Thanks again. Here is the recipe I found. Sounds yummy. 8 ounces candied citron 4 ounces candied orange peel 4 cups sifted all-purpose flour 1 tablespoon ground cinnamon 1 tablespoon ground cardamom 1 teaspoon ground cloves 1 teaspoon ground nutmeg 1 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper 1 teaspoon aniseeds 5 eggs, separated 2 tablespoons butter (at room temperature) 1 1/2 teaspoons grated lemon peel 2 1/2 cups granulated sugar 1 1/2 cups confectioners' sugar 2 to 3 tablespoons milk Additional confectioners sugar Coarsely grind citron and orange peel with grinder fitted with coarse blade; set aside. Sift flour with cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, nutmeg, baking soda and pepper. sprinkle anise seeds over flour mixture. Set aside. In large mixing bowl with electric mixer at medium speed, beat egg yolks with butter and lemon peel until smooth. Reduce speed to low and beat in granulated sugar. Set aside. Beat egg whites in clean mixer bowl with electric mixer or by hand until stiff peaks form. On low speed of electric mixer, gently fold reserved egg yolk mixture into beaten egg whites. Blend in reserved flour mixture, using your hands. Blend in reserved coarsely ground candied citron and orange peel. Shape dough into balls the size of a small walnut; place balls, 1 inch apart, on ungreased baking sheets. Let stand, uncovered, 8 hours, or overnight. Bake in a preheated 350 degree F oven for 15 minutes or until double in size and lightly browned. Remove from baking sheets and let cool to room temperature. Mix confectioners' sugar with enough milk to form thin glaze; drizzle glaze over cookies. If desired, after glaze has hardened, shake cookies gently in paper bag containing additional confectioners sugar.

The Israelis and Arabs finally realized that, if they continued fighting, they would someday end up destroying the world. So they sat down and decided to settle the whole dispute with a dogfight. The negotiators agreed that each country would take five years to develop the best fighting dog they could. The dog that won the fight would earn its country the right to rule the middle east. The losing side would have to lay down its arms. The Arabs found the biggest, meanest Dobermans and Rottweilers in the world. They bred them together and then crossed their offspring with the meanest Siberian wolves. They selected only the biggest, strongest puppy from each litter and continued to breed them together. They used steroids and trainers in their quest for the perfect killing machine. After the five years were up, they had a dog that needed iron prison bars on its cage. Only the trainers could handle this beast. When the day of the big fight arrived, the Israelis showed up with a strange animal. It was a nine-foot-long Dachshund. Everyone felt sorry for the Israelis. No one else thought this weird animal stood a chance against the growling beast in the Arab camp. The bookies predicted the Arabs woul win in less than a minute. The cages were opened. The Dachshund waddled toward the center of the ring. The Arab dog leapt from his cage and charged the giant wiener-dog. As he got to within an inch of the Israeli dog, the Dachshund opened its jaws and swallowed the Arab beast in one bite. There was nothing left but a small of fur from the killer dog's tail. The Arabs approached the Israelis, shaking their heads in disbelief. "We do not understand. Our top scientists and breeders worked for five years with the meanest, biggest Dobermans and Rottweilers. They developed a killing machine." "Really?" the Israelis replied. "We had our top plastic surgeons working for five years to make an alligator look like a Dachshund!"