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Saturday Night’s Alright for Devil Dogs

And watching Trading Spaces. I feel like I’m stuck in a bad B movie or something. Austin has become the land that time forgot. Everybody’s so busy waiting for the next big thing to come around, I wonder if we’ll even notice it when we see it. Or will it just one day magically appear. *Poof* there it is. Hey, was that always there? Hmmm.

Speaking of the Trady Bunch (as they call themselves) I’m officially inviting them back. It’s not that I want them to re-decorate my house (I really don’t) and it’s not that I even want to see Ty paint more shelves (you know the old adage about “watching paint dry” right? Good.) No, it’s just that, since they’ve left, we’ve been out-of-sorts so to speak. We had our first ice storm of the winter; it got cold and blustery. Unemployment went up (probably all those out of work extras and catering people), my brother in law was in a car wreck, my sister lost her job, and all kinds of things have just gone wrong. It sucks. It’s like the giant cosmos has become mis-aligned and we need the official Trading Spaces ultra ray gun to make it right again. Come back you Trading People and work your magic. Whatever was in those big bright Winnebagos wearing chirpy bright Banyon/TLC logos was just enough to do the trick and fend off our demons.

And speaking of doing the trick, I have just finished off the last Devil Dog. For those of you who don’t know, Devil Dogs are kind of like chocolate Twinkies. Or maybe not. Think fluffy chocolate cakes with that familiar creamy white filling (not THAT creamy white filling…geesh.) Definately a northern thing, I suppose, as they are rather difficult to get in Austin. Don’t know why, as we even have Wise potatoe chips now, but Devil Dogs have become the last bastion of true northern “roots” that I have left. That and those big pretzels you can get on the streetcorners in NYC. Damn, I loved those. Once in a while, they stock Devil Dogs at Randall’s. If you squint really hard, you can almost see them, happily sitting there on the shelves, in between the Lil’ Debbie’s and the Ho-Hos. I don’t know why I sometimes find myself missing things northern. Ordinary stuff like snacking items, fresh apples, skating rinks, snow days, long scarves/heavy woolen sweaters, and the northern lights. I really miss the northern lights.

The indians used to believe that the northern lights created some bad ass mojo and made things go bonkers, or at least a bit askew. Like they were some tool used by the great Gods to manipulate the cosmos into doing strange new things. Maybe that’s how those Trading Spaces people make their magic happen. It explains why all their armoire doors are crooked, anyway. All I have to say to the folks in San Diego is, “look out for those Winnies, baby. You just don’t know what could be heading out your way.”

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in “Carol’s Little World” signing off.


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