My grandfather was born near Cheddar, in Somerset UK. Why should I be surprised that my cheesy roots follow me wherever I go? I am bewildered, and a little bit sad.
Yesterday started with my internet pirate-a woman pulled up in front of the store, and sat, air conditioner blasting, sucking up bandwidth for three days this week. I let her get started on her download, then I pull the server cable. Yesterday, she arrived at 8:45, sat in her truck for 15 minutes, applying make-up and looking for a signal that wasn't there. I guess a variable reward really DOES strengthen motiviation, but I'll bet she has no problem crabbing about my "lousy" internet connection. Mind you, a bottle of water is 80 cents, but she'd rather "steal" the bandwidth and use an equivalent amount of gas. Cheesy!
Later, I perused this week's local paper, and noticed something REALLY familiar in an article about an upcoming festival. I went looking in the on-line archives, and there it was. Last year's festival article-same opening paragraph, same everything, except the dates and a few other salient facts had been changed or shuffled. Sarah and I each read paragraphs in turn-she from last year, I read from this year's article. REALLY CHEESY! I sent the author an email, telling him that the article was so MEMORABLY BAD last year that I noticed his "reprint" this year, and that he should stick to what he does best-photography.
Sadly, my chemo cap entry is DANGEROUSLY CHEESY. It's finished. The pattern is written. However, I am missing one IMPORTANT contest element-an attractive hat. It is, in a word, the cheesiest. So I am starting over...