I, Chucklehead

I’ve been posting for close to two years now and I’ve finally realized that I’ve been mispronouncing my blog’s name all this time. My handyman was over Friday morning fixing my plugged drain. He pulled out a hairball the size of my fist and referred to it as detritus, pronouncing it correctly. I finally got off my lazy butt and went to look it up. It was there in black and white, along with the audio feature.

http://m-w.com/dictionary/detritus

I’m sharing this with you, my faithful audience, only to illustrate that even I am not infallible. I think The Exec was giving me subtle hints a few weeks ago by referring to my blog’s name, correct pronunciation and all. At that time I repulsed the urge to correct the former journalist. But he’ll never know, because he doesn’t read my blog either. At least he doesn’t owe me money.

I saw The Exec and #1 yesterday. We were invited to a wine tasting by some fellow Foster City residents who’ve become vintners recently. They made their libations at a place called Crushpad in SF. The wines were quite good. I liked them better than the $40 Rioja we had for dinner afterwards. The repast was an impromptu affair with #1 and The Exec. We had actually grabbed a table for four at Astaria in San Mateo before we called The Exec and his missus. They showed up about 20 minutes later. In the interim, #1 ordered a Grey Goose martini, so I decided to join him. This place serves a helluva drink. I think they should have brought it in a bowl. I guess that’s why I’m feeling a little cloudy this morning.

My famed Christmas letter will be going out this week. You’ll be getting it via snail mail, except for my Swedish reader. As an extra holiday bonus, one lucky recipient will be getting a coupon for a free Starbucks Gingerbread Latte.

Happy Holidays!