Never Before have I Extracted so much Toothpaste

An event has transpired which marks a turning point for The Supreme Aglet. From this day on, life events will be separated into two categories: those which occurred before I achieved my greatest level of toothpaste extraction from a near-empty tube, and those that occurred after.

As I tossed the spent toothpaste tube into the trash can, it dawned on me that a new chapter in my life had been written. One for the ages. Never before had I been able to extract so much toothpaste from a single tube.

To preserve the dignity of the tube, I stopped short of cutting it open to see if there was even one spec of toothpaste remaining, but I am confident that if one were to go through that exercise, he or she would conclude that I have reason to claim the achievement which I am discussing here. (Note in the previous sentence the use of both genders, indicating the sort of progressive individual that The Supreme Aglet truly is.)

I will now take a moment to reveal my tube extraction method; please keep in mind that any such use of a toothpaste tube may be subject to copyright infringement, and any attempt to alter the following method of toothpaste extraction will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law:

While most people use the basic hand-squeeze method of extracting toothpaste from the tube, I employ a unique method which involves laying the tube on the bathroom counter and running my toothbrush handle from the bottom of the tube to the top, forcing every last remnant of toothpaste to relocate near the tube opening.

After I had finally squeezed the absolute last portion of toothpaste from the tube, I paused for a moment to consider my achievement. I wondered if there was any way to capitalize on the accomplishment, such as taking the tube on a national tour or otherwise showcasing it for profit, as I am not a socialist.

It then occurred to me that this noble tube had done half the work, and that it perhaps deserved a more dignified end to its existence. It also occurred to me that touring with an empty tube of toothpaste stood little chance of earning any real profit beyond what I might earn from my own family and friends out of pity.

So, in the end, it was a private moment that led to nothing notable beyond the accomplishment itself. I will always remember and cherish it, however, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Roger's Perspective Skewed by Dictionary

Agleteer Roger contacted The Supreme Aglet regarding a recent post, I Need to Answer that Note About the Refridgerator Recall, complaining that the word "refridgerator" has no "d" in it, insisting that the correct spelling is "refrigerator".

Of course, there is a certain charm in watching one attempt to point out an error in the work of The Supreme Aglet, not unlike watching my 4-year-old sternly giving me some sort of admonition about her little tea cup set. At the same time, I do not wish to discourage such liberal thought--that is, I do not wish to stifle anyone's free thinking, even if that free thinking leads to something as ridiculous as questioning the accuracy of The Supreme Aglet. (Note that I have no fear of the use of the term "liberal", though I am not a socialist.)

Obviously, Agleteer Roger's mistake is that he came to his conclusion as a result of consulting a dictionary, which I found rather quaint. It is as if the dictionary is the final wurd on speeling.

The word "refridgerator" has a "d" in it, indeed. The "d" was placed there by The Supreme Aglet, and I do not apologize for having altered that word forever as a result of my use of it in that way. If more refridgerators had d's in them, perhaps their days would be lengthened. Perhaps dinner would taste better. Perhaps Diet A&W Root Beer would be more prevalent. I could go on.

Suffice to say that Agleteer Roger's futile attempt to find an error in these important and highly accurate writings did not succeed, although he deserves points for trying, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Nicole Speaks French, but She's Good at Foosball

Last night, we were graced and charmed by our neighbors Dan and Nicole, who ventured out in the wonderful dark wilderness that is our humble homestead and scampered with a delightful promenade to our doorstep. La la la la la.

Regular readers of The Supreme Aglet--large in number and mighty in character--may be familiar with this pair. Nicole speaks French, but she is actually Belgian.

We learned last night that Nicole has another hidden talent beyond her ability to mangle words in a most artistic and pleasant way; specifically, she kicks donkey in Foosball.

We would not have known this had it not been for my excitable and jovial son suggesting a round of Foosball, confident that the training he and I have given each other would surely bring us victory. Nicole responded by touting her skill level in the sport, tempering her boasting by adding qualifiers such as "but that was a long time ago".

My son likely interpreted such vascillation the same way I did: all talkin' and no rockin'. To the activity room we went, prepared to demonstrate our physical superiority to our French-speaking guest.

Upon arriving at the activity room and studying our Foosball table, Nicole seemed to want to delay the inevitable by lecturing us on how a Foosball table should be properly set up, and that the quality of Foosball tables she had used in competition were far more worthy than the $60 example from Target that ours is. She further insisted that we alter our table to favor her strong hand. We complied, only because we felt she was likely crying out for a handicap.

My son and I played as a team against Nicole, who insisted on playing on her own. This was certainly permissable, as it only meant more points for us.

As the game began, we were somewhat impressed at Nicole's ability to keep up with our level of play, answering our goals with goals of her own, and sometimes even being ahead by a goal, (of course, we were letting it happen).

At about a 6-6 score, something kicked in. Something both terrifying and awe-inspiring. Nicole had finally put on her game face, and we would be her victims.

At this level of play, the numbers of little plastic men on her side became irrelevant, as she would use her goalie as essentially the only player she needed to bring shame on us. Our little plastic men became equally irrelevant as she used her goalie to both defend and score with impunity.

Of course, she was the guest, so we let it happen that way; but it reminded me of a recent basketball defeat against my sister-in-law Marion, who is older than I, no taller than I, and who insisted on playing in her sandals; but that's a story for another time.

In our hearts, my son and I know that we are Team Superior, turning little plastic men into icons of victory for all to see (except Nicole), and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #2

If you are not familiar with our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette, please familiarize yourself by reading this entry before proceeding, or you may be the target of a government plot to assume your identity and create a life-like facsimile of your person.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer Jim, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested). It appears that Agleteer Jim needed to get something off of his chest upon reading through my observance of the 2-week-3-day anniversary of The Supreme Aglet.

To wit:

I am hesitant to affront your intelligence, but feel the need to point out an alarming corrigendum in your reference to the "Byzantine Tulip."

I was initially aroused at the very thought of this sumptuous flower, and then suffered immensely when you confessed your lampoon. Your blunder is stating "there are no such things as Byzantine Tulips".

To this day there are still a few very small gardens that grow the captivating, horticultural delights. At one time these gorgeous flowers were grown throughout Holland. Unfortunately, these gems would stain anything that touched them.

Their demise came about shortly after the Germans invaded Holland. As the Nazis settled in, setting up camps in the fields of flowers, they became aware of the colorful splotches that covered their uniforms. The stains also made public which people, mostly women, were sympathizers. That was the end of the famous tulip.

Jim, I find your story of the demise of the Byzantine Tulip highly relevant, and your charming use of cumbersome words are truly indicative of a well-adjusted Agleteer.

Nonetheless, relevance is not tantamount to accuracy, and I find your account of the Byzantine Tulip highly suspect. This is not to imply that you are intending to mislead The Supreme Aglet's sizable readership; Agleteers are not liars, (and I am not a socialist).

I must therefore conclude that you are simply the sort of idle individual who has nothing better to do than write non-sensical prose with the intention of seeing it published on the Internet. I must recommend that you seek professional help for this affliction, as those who use their literary gifts to engage in nonsense risk complete insanity. The electric thimble has no shoe, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet gives a French Lesson

Due to my international celebrity and frequent travel abroad, it is necessary for me to know a number of different languages in order to best communicate with the natives of each of my destinations.

French is among the most aesthetically appealing languages. Our neighbor Nicole, who is actually Belgian, likes to point out that the phrase "your lips look like a chicken's butt" sounds quite romantic when spoken in French.

Today, I will perform a public service and enrich your lives by teaching you French. I will be forced to limit my instruction somewhat since I only know one phrase in French, but this will not prevent me from imparting this knowledge upon my faithful minions.

Before proceeding with today's French lesson, I must insist that we refrain from making jokes at the expense of the French, as is fashionable to do these days. I would specifically like to address the stereotype of the French as cowards and defeatists. In fact, the French have a proud military history, as can easily be surmised by a quick Google search for "french military victories".

And now, our French lesson.

We will begin and end our class today by learning the phrase:

sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

I learned this from a Beatles song. It means:

these are words that go together well

Now class, can anyone name which Beatles song that phrase is lifted from?...you in the back with the fuschia sweater...yes you...

...I'm sorry, it isn't Yellow Submarine. Anyone else?...anyone?...you in the middle with the beanie...

...No, that isn't right either. Actually, I don't think the Beatles ever did a cover for Dude Looks Like a Lady. Come on, class, this is an easy one. How about you in the corner with the sock on your shoulder...

...yes, you're right. It's Michelle, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

I Need to Answer that Note About the Refridgerator Recall

Several months ago, I received a recall notice for the Norcold refridgerator unit that came with our Winnebago. Apparently, there is a potential problem with using the refridgerator when powered by propane as opposed to A/C power; namely, it might blow up.

This caused some distress, as the thought of our Winnebago blowing up during a camping trip is disconcerting, not to mention that such a thing would be highly inconvenient.

With all of the other daily responsibilities and obligations that The Supreme Aglet must deal with, taking time out to locate a repair facility, hauling the mammoth vehicle to that location, and waiting around while the repair is applied all represents something that makes it too easy to procrastinate.

Such procrastination has prompted a second notification from the makers of the Norcold refridgerator. The reminder letter is written in a somewhat ominous tone, leaving me with the impression that, once the refridgerator explodes, I will have no legal recourse for the carnage and damage that will result.

I believe, then, that it is high time I take action. I will therefore hand the letter to my wife and ask her if she will kindly take care of it. Given that Mrs. The Supreme Aglet is both a woman of kindness and a woman of action, I'm confident that we shall live through another camping trip, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

My Son's Spider Man DVD Has Been Located

It was a difficult moment when my son and I together faced the realization that his beloved Spiderman DVD went missing, both because of the loss itself and because of my continual admonition that he always return his favorite DVD's and other items precisely to avoid this outcome.

We looked all around living room where the primary TV of the house is located, opening and emptying drawers, crawling behind the entertainment center, looking under the couch and love seat. Gone.

Surmising that he may have taken the DVD with him into his room to watch it on his computer, we looked under his desk, night table, dresser, in his closet, everywhere.

And this wasn't the sort of search where you merely rifle through the contents of a desk or dresser, or open and close a closet door with a quick but careful visual scan; we were removing drawers, moving large pieces of furniture, and even moving appliances that are intended to be stationary. Such was the significance of losing this particular DVD.

The search even continued at our next-door neighbor's house, where my son often spends his afternoons frolicking among the backdrop of his childhood odyssey. (Please feel free to include that last sentence in any work of poetry that the reader may be endeavoring to create.) That search also proved futile.

It became a foregone conclusion that the DVD would have to be replaced, although the urgency of replacing it was tempered by the fact that my son also possessed the Spiderman II DVD, which he received as a Christmas present.

A few weeks passed when, one evening, my son and I were comfortably seated in our living room enjoying a SpongeBob Squarepants episode, (he was kind enough to let me watch SpongeBob even though the Science Channel was showing one of his favorite episodes from Popular Mechanics for Kids). While watching, and enjoying tremendously, the SpongeBob Squarepants TV show, a strange urge came over me.

Inexplicably, I rose from the couch, walked over to the entertainment center, reached above it, (it is up on a platform and the Supreme Aglet is no basketball player), so reaching above it requires me to extend my arm fully and stretch a bit. Feeling around with my hand, I felt something smooth that didn't feel like the top of the furniture. I grabbed the object and, needless to say at this point, it was the missing Spiderman DVD.

Explaining how it got there turned out to be an easier task than initially thought. After getting over the shock of finding it so easily after many thorough search attempts had failed, my son recalled that he had climbed up on a step ladder and put it there months earlier, reacting to the threat of damage to the DVD by my daughter (his younger sister) in the midst of some squabble they were having.

A few laughs and a hug later, we resumed our lives, gleefully enjoying the rest of the SpongeBob Squarepants episode already in progress, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is the 2-Week-3-Day Anniversary of The Supreme Aglet

Today is the 2-Week-3-Day anniversary of The Supreme Aglet. I already said that in the title, but I have repeated it here for those who may be title-challenged.

On this special occasion, I would like to take a few moments to thank those who have made The Supreme Aglet one of the most often-imitated--but never duplicated--blogs on the Web. (Note that the phrase "blogs on the Web" is somewhat redundant, so please re-read the previous sentence, removing the words "on the Web". I have reported this error to myself and will ensure that I am properly disciplined for the lapse in quality.)

I am particularly appreciative of the Byzantine Tulip arrangement in the stunning red vase that I received from one of my many fans. The flowers sit on my desk as we speak, and they have become a major attraction at our home. The next Tulip Viewing Party is set for this coming Saturday, admission is $10, or $8 for seniors and children under 12.

But The Supreme Aglet cannot dedicate, cannot erubidate, the blogosphere in which we occupy. The many bloggers who have gone on before have erubidated it far beyond our poor power to add or detract. It is for us, the Agleteers, then, to complete that which they so nobly gave the last full measure of their sanity to erubidate.

I should point out at this juncture that there are no such things as "Byzantine Tulips", no such word as "erubidate", the Tulip Viewing Party has been cancelled, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Our Anti-Cat Urination Defense has been Breached

You may recall a recent post on The Supreme Aglet in which my wife had successfully constructed a barrier with the express purpose of preventing one of our elderly cats from urinating near the tub in the master bathroom.

This was a valiant and promising effort, but it proved insufficient to solve the problem completely. We had operated under the assumption that we could remove the baby gate at certain times of the day when we were in close proximity to the tub. After all, as shy and fearful as our cats are, they would surely not attempt to urinate in such an open space when there were people around.

This was an erroneous assumption, as the problem animal defiantly and shamelessly chose to deposit her waste near the tub within full view of The Supreme Aglet.

As previously mentioned, there is a short hallway connecting the master bedroom to the master bathroom, with one closet on each side of the hallway. As these closets are of the sizable walk-in persuasion, my wife--originator of the original anti-urination defense plan--suggested a new plan altogether.

Specifically, she suggested taking advantage of the fact that there is much more closet space than there are clothes and other closet-dwelling items. She suggested combining my closet with hers, moving the cat boxes from the master toilet room to my closet, and confining the cats to that area when not supervised. To provide lighting for the animals (who technically don't need it, but it is our custom to engage in anthropomorphism), we could leave the closet light on during the evening, and otherwise use the baby gate to block entry or exit from the closet during daylight hours or whenever necessary otherwise.

This plan not only seemed like a better way to confine the cats in closer proximity to their cat boxes (or, confine any accidents to a single space), but it had the added advantage of removing the cat boxes from the toilet room, effectively making that room more accessible for people who wish to use it. (To clarify, it was accessible with the cat boxes in it, but not a pleasant place to deposit one's waste.)

Thus far, this plan has worked well. All human-, animal-, and fish-residents at the home of The Supreme Aglet are functioning harmoniously with respect to waste deposits, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

We Finally Put our Christmas Storage Boxes back in the Attic

If there is something I truly wish to avoid ever becoming, it's the proverbial neighbor who leaves his Christmas lights up all the way into July.

This year, it was mid-January before the Christmas lights came down, but not due to any sort of laziness or procrastination. It rained heavily for the first couple of weeks in January, and getting up on a ladder in the rain was not an appealing prospect. Besides, Randy and Diane's house still had their Christmas lights up into mid-January for the same reason, although Dan and Nicole managed to remove theirs immediately after Christmas day. But they don't have kids.

Having finally dispensed with the lights, we were left with several storage boxes containing our Christmas decorations and the aforementioned lights, not to mention our faux tree, (please be careful with whom you speak when discussing the manufactured nature of our Christmas tree).

The boxes needed to be replaced into our attic at some point, so until the opportunity arose to fulfill that task, they were left in the garage, between the main garage and the extension.

This created some distress, as putting the boxes in that position created an obstacle for getting out of the car parked in the extension, which I often make use of.

At first, I put up with this, sometimes finding it a difficult task to get out of my car after arriving home, (depending on whether the boxes had been moved so that occupants of the SUV parked on the other side of the boxes would have no difficulty getting out of that vehicle). One thing that contributed to having procrastinated was that the extensible ladder we normally use to reach the attic opening was dirty from outside use.

The ladder wasn't washed prior to bringing it in, so there was some distress bringing it inside once we were all but forced to either find another temporary home for the storage boxes or put them away like responsible storage box owners.

We boldly decided to bring the ladder into the house, knowing the potential consequence of dirtying the carpet and the need to vacuum clean the area afterward.

Ours was a team that functioned like a "well-oiled machine", to coin a phrase. My wife and daughter climbed into the attic to receive storage boxes that I would send up the ladder to them, while my son sat steadfast in his room, playing a video game on his computer and thus ensuring the computer was manned in case we would need some sophisticated calculation resolved as part of our labor.

Soon, the task was complete, including the cleaning of the area where the ladder was utilized. I can fully open my car door when parking in the extension, the storage boxes await the next Christmas season to be removed from the attic, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #1

In response to the overwhelming feedback The Supreme Aglet receives on a weekly basis, I have decided to create a regular weekly featurette which I like to call "Fan Mail Friday #n", where n equals the sequentially numbered Fan Mail Friday event.

The astute observer will note that the reference to the word "Friday" indicates that this featurette will appear on Fridays. If this is not clear, please consult your calendar.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer Mike, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):

Dear Supreme Aglet,

I wanted to let you know that I have a mouse pad that has a picture of 3 of my nieces. I have other nieces and some nephews also, but this one was a gift from my sister, who has 3 daughters. My brother, who has 2 daughters and 2 sons hasn't given me a mouse pad.

Thanks.

No--thank you, Mike. Even though your mouse pad amounts only to a partial representation of the offspring of your brother and sister, I trust it provides sufficient grip to enable your mouse to work reliably.

And to the rest of The Supreme Aglet readers, please submit your questions or comments to The Supreme Aglet at thesupremeaglet@hotmail.com, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

My Daughter Still Plays with her Handless Doll

If you have children, particularly children of the female persuasion, you may be familiar with the popular Princess Annaliese and Erika dolls from the Barbie "Princess and the Pauper" DVD. These dolls not only represent accurate re-creations of the characters from the movie, but they also sing together in harmony. It is quite lovely, and presently, the "Just Like You" song is playing repeatedly in my head and out of my control.

Although my daughter keeps her room surprisingly neat for such a young child (and in direct contrast to my son's difficulty with maintaining order in his room), she is still vulnerable to leaving toys lying around when more interesting events suddenly transpire, such as The Supreme Aglet coming home from work.

This causes some consternation around our home because our Dachsund is fond of the taste of plastic

It was inevitable that the animal's tendency would eventually prove harmful, and Erika would be her first victim.

Interestingly, it wasn't a maimed Erika that was first found, but rather, a chewed-up hand in the dog's possession. Because of this, it wasn't immediately realized that the doll had been damaged.

Upon finding the mangled hand, I set about looking for which toy among the many dolls and action figures the hand belonged to. This took a great deal of time, as I had made the erroneous assumption that the doll or action figure would be located among the other toys, as if our Dachsund attacked the toy, then put it away like a good dog.

Erika's blue dress caught my eye as I was passing through one of the entry-way rooms. She was on the floor, behind the big round chair. I picked her up and noted that she was in reasonably good shape, with the exception that she had no right hand.

This caused some distress, as I knew this was one of my daughter's most beloved dolls, and she is so young. I didn't know how she would take it.

To solve this problem, I gave the doll to my wife. After all, it was my wife who insisted on getting the Dachsund in the first place.

It wasn't long after that my wife reunited my daughter with Erika. I wasn't there to see it, but the story goes that my daughter at first did not notice Erika's handless arm. When it finally occured to her that something was wrong, and when she found out what had happened, there was apparently some mourning involved.

But it was short-lived. Erika remains one my daughter's favorite dolls, occupying a place of honor next to Princess Annaliese on my daughter's bed, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

We No Longer Hand-Wash the Cooking Set

When we procured our newest cooking set about a year ago, I remember being somewhat disappointed at all of the warnings printed on the box about the possibility of damaging the pieces if washed in a dishwasher. This particular set cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $300, and for that amount, one would expect a reasonably durable set of pots and pans that could withstand getting wet.

Nonetheless, the threat of voiding the warranty--along with the illusion that these pots and pans must be something special if they are to be treated so gingerly--was sufficient incentive to heed the warning, and we complied.

This caused some mild distress now and then, as the excitement of using a new pot or pan was somewhat tempered by the prospect of having to wash it by hand after use. Being the resilient individuals that we are, we pressed on and boldly made use of the cookware, dutifully washing each piece by hand whenever one was used.

My son took over kitchen cleaning duties several months ago, and this eventually led to the turning point in the way our pots and pans are cleaned.

As part of his chore, he was tasked with rinsing pots, pans, dishes, glasses, and other items which accumulate in the sink, and put them in the dishwasher. Of course, he was told sternly not to put any pots and pans from the newest cookware set into same dishwasher.

In hindsight, it was inevitable that my son would eventually fail to properly distinguish between a new pot and an older one, and this inevitability revealed itself one day as I was emptying the dishwasher: there it was, a large pot from our newest cookware set. It had gone through the dishwasher.

Amazingly, the pot was still intact, showing no sign of damage at all. The predicted doom that would surely befall our home upon defying the warning did not come to pass.

I sat down with my wife to discuss the situation. Should we regard this as a lucky fluke and continue to heed the warning, or should we throw caution to the wind and continue allowing pots and pans from our newest cookware set to be subjected to the harsh environment of the dishwasher? Those who know The Supreme Aglet personally also know the answer to this question: we boldly concluded that fear of a warning on a box would not dictate our habits and desires.

Since then, the pots and pans from our newest cookware set have gone through the dishwasher several times. We are confident that our decision was just and right, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

My Son Found Some Old Yahoo Directions

Ever the vigilant pincher of pennies, I stand watch over all useful sheets of paper as candidates for re-use. I am like a sentinal of scrap, keeping a watchful eye for any printed document or set of directions having one side completely free of the slightest stain.

It is therefore not unusual for the scrap paper drawer in my desk to contain sheets of paper which had once served as a guide to one of The Supreme Aglet's many adventures. My son--conditioned to seek out scrap paper before clean paper in any endeavor not leading to a finalized piece of work--randomly chose a sheet and began his work in earnest.

Upon completing the work he set out to do, (in this case, modeling a sea-going vessel he sought to construct with Legos), something on the reverse side of the sheet of paper caught his attention; specifically, a reference to the name of the street on which we used to live.

This was a set of Yahoo directions from our old house to some unknown destination. Where could it possibly lead to? My son's curiosity was a raging fire.

He approached me and queried, "Dear father of mine, who provides me with the very sustenance on which my young life depends, I beseech that you reveal to me the destination represented by this guilded map."

My son doesn't actually practice that sort of verbal prose, but he said something to that effect.

I studied the map and the verbal directions, noting the date as well as the destination. I remembered only one reason for needing to go to Burbank at that time: The Dennis Miller Show. I went with a friend on that day to watch the comedian conduct a taping of his highly entertaining television program, complete with his sharp wit and his take-no-prisoners/suffer-no-fools style of interview.

Seeing the map brought back pleasant memories of that hyper-enjoyable day, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

I Made a Big Lego

Having been inspired by the incredibly elaborate Lego creations I saw on a recent trip to Southern California's Lego Land theme park, I was compelled to create a work of my own. I was joined in this endeavor by my son, who kindly graces me with his company whenever I play with my Legos.

I decided to make an 8:1 scale reproduction of a Lego brick; specifically, a 1-pegged blue brick.

There was a brief moment of distress in which I worried that there would not be enough blue Lego bricks to complete my project neatly, but this proved to be an unnecessary concern. With approximately 2,000 Lego pieces to work with, it almost seems ridiculous that this should have crossed my mind, but I pride myself in having the sort of foresight that takes these evantualities into account.

I fashioned the large reproduction brick such that it had a hole on the bottom that could accommodate another such creation created with the same size peg at the top. Even so, I currently have no plans to create a second large Lego brick.

Presently, the oversized Lego brick is on display on the coffee table in the living room, standing next to my son's reproduction of the Washington Monument, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

I Won $10 at our Monthly Bunco

Our inaugural neighborhood Bunco game of the month was held at Dan and Nicole's house, which not only meant a short walk for my wife and me, but also that there would be wonderful Belgian treats. Although I was expecting hors d'ourves of the French persuasion, I found the meat balls and little weenies to be delicious substitutes.

Lady luck showed up early in the evening. At the very first table, I rolled ten 1's in a row, astonishing my neighbors and establishing me as the one beat for the night.

I held a seat at the main table for about five straight rounds, and several times otherwise. Yes, I was it, and a dollup of Cool Whip.

My streak began to falter somewhat in the last game, (there were a total of four), but the momentum had carried me far enough to show up at the end with a multi-holed index card in the win column, and two Buncos to boot.

Of course, the biggest prize goes to him who has the most Buncos, which somewhat mysteriously turned out to be the host. Hmmm. Not that I'm accusing him of anything. Hmmm.

I ended up with the most wins, however, which was good for a $30 prize. I had put in $20 for my wife and me, so a quick calculation shows a net win of $10. (Please feel free to use an electronic calculator or spreadsheet to double-check my math.)

I have not yet decided what to do with my $10, although I'm sure this will be a topic of intense discussion for many weeks to come in my house, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Pot Luck was a Success

Because I work with people of varying ethnicities, and because I enjoy trying different kinds of food, particularly different kinds of free food, I take the initiative to plan and execute a pot luck lunch at work every other month or so.

These pot luck lunches have been increasingly more elaborate. It is my hope that one will someday be hosted at some sort of convention center with balloons and some famous performer, but that's a story for another time.

For this particular pot luck lunch, I had planned to introduce the custom of presenting a Top Ten list some time during the event. As you might suspect, I am referring to the sort of humorous Top Ten list made famous by late night variety show host David Letterman.

Although there is a slight feeling of anxiety in creating a Top Ten list for our Pot Luck resulting from the fear that Mr. Letterman will undertake some sort of legal action to prevent it, I nonetheless feel that bearing the risk is the mark of a true hero. I am that hero.

Seeking help in creating the list, and hoping to attract some heightened level of employee interaction, I solicited my fellow employees for ideas via an e-mail message, but to no avail. I even consulted personally with some of the more clever individuals for their contributions, and although I received many promises, no list ideas were received.

The deadline date was approaching. I had to act.

I took it upon myself to draw from whatever river of creativity might be flowing within and attempt the list on my own. (Note that the previous sentence is an excellent indicator of my poetic genius, matched only by my handsome countenance.)

I created the list and transformed it into a PowerPoint presentation. (Technically, it was an OpenOffice presentation. Free software is neat.)

On the day of the pot luck lunch, I arranged for an overhead projector that I could hook my laptop into. With the computer equipment set up, and with the contributions of cuisine from my fellow employees heated up and ready to serve, the pot luck lunch was officially underway.

Once some sort of critical eating mass had been met, I decided to present the top ten list. I read them one at a time as they appeared projected on the wall...10...9...8...all the way to 1.

The Top Ten list was well-received, and even moved our fearless CEO to say a few words of inspiration. After the pot luck lunch was over, several others approached me with offers to help create the list for the next pot luck lunch event. This particular pot luck lunch will indeed be remembered as one of entertainment, inspiration, and delicious cuisine, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is the One-Week Anniversary of The Supreme Aglet

As mentioned in the title above, today is the one-week anniversary of The Supreme Aglet, (if you did not have an opportunity to read the title, you may do so now).

I am pleased that The Supreme Aglet has been able thus far to address issues of the commonplace without sparking contentiousness among my readers. To this point, I have not received any personal threats or complaints relating to the sensitivity of the subject matter involved.

The reader can be certain that The Supreme Aglet will ensure these severely mundane issues will continue to be aired, no matter how difficult it is to face the realities that confront ordinary people, no matter how insecure I may feel about retribution for the stand that I take on these matters, I will press on. At least for one more week.

So, to my critics and friends alike, I vow more of the same, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

My Cat No Longer Urinates Near the Tub

Ever since we got our puppy a few months ago, our two elderly cats rarely venture out of my closet, and the propensity of one of my cats to urinate somewhere other than her box--a habit which I hoped had abated after we moved last Summer--seems to have resurfaced.

Her favorite non-box urinating venue is an area in front of the tub in the master bedroom.

I should pause for a moment and describe the layout of the master bedroom and bathroom, as we risk the excitement of this story becoming diluted due to confusing the reader by not properly setting the stage:

The master bedroom in our house is connected to a master bathroom by a short hallway. Built into the wall on each side of the hall way is a closet, (mine is on the right heading toward the bathroom, Mrs. Supreme Aglet's closet is on the left). Before arriving at the main area of the master bathroom, there is a door on the left that opens to a small bathroom with only a toilet, (this is where the cat boxes are kept). Beyond that, it opens up to the full master bathroom with a sink area on both sides, and a tub on a platform straight ahead.

If you climbed on to the tub platform and continued to walk, you would run into the wall, so I would suggest not doing so in order to reduce the risk of injury.

Once we realized that the carpet was being soiled in that area, my wife and I discussed our options. I was more of a mind to allow our cat to become part of the circle of life, while my wife suggested a combination of using our puppy pads in that area and purchasing a carpet cleaner appliance to ensure any soiling is removed if and when any is deposited.

We proceeded with her plan, but the demands of properly keeping puppy pads in the same area that family members get into and out of the tub made it difficult to manage.

Ever the mind of genius, my wife set out to build a fortress that would protect the main master bathroom area from our cat using an extendable baby gate.

The baby gate would be positioned at the end of the hallway to block the entrance of the main master bathroom area from our cat. The weight and age of our cat ensured that jumping over the gate would be an insurmountable task.

The problem immediately encountered was that the baby gate could not extend far enough to reach both sides of the hallway. However, since it was being positioned at the end of the hall where the door leading to the toilet is located, and since that door opens outward, the baby gate could be set up so that it is held in place on one side by the wall and on the other side by the open door.

This proved successful. Any attempt by my cat to enter the main master bathroom area has been thwarted, and when guests come over, we can remove the baby gate and count on the cat's natural fear of everything to keep her in the closet or under the bed, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

I Can Now Procure my Favorite Brand of Soda Conveniently

This is America. I should be able to procure my favorite brand of soda without great difficulty for several reasons, including the profit motive that compels the manufacturer to produce the soda and the supermarkets to sell the soda.

Somehow, the profit motive has often proven defective in being able to accomplish the task of procuring my favorite soda, Diet A&W Root Beer.

Demand for this particular brand of soda is very strong, as indicated by the empty space labeled "Diet A&W Root Beer" which is often occupied only by other brands that were pushed into the empty space.

For some reason, this problem does not afflict the Diet Barq's brand or the generic store brand, only my cherished Diet A&W Root Beer.

If the space that should contain Diet A&W Root Beer is almost always empty in any one of about five conveniently located supermarkets, then it suggests to me that this product is in very high demand, and that the producer of this product (7-Up), as well as the supermarkets, would have some incentive to re-stock more often. More Diet A&W Root Beer would surely be sold.

Every once in awhile, I would get lucky and find one or two Diet A&W Root Beer 12-packs in their designated location at a particular store, and I was in the habit of buying as many as they had while the opportunity was available. To facilitate the chance that I would be able to find at least one supermarket with the beverages in stock, I devised a clever route that took me past all five conveniently located supermarkets when I intended to go to any one of them. This helped only slightly, as it seemed that these supermarkets had conspired to deprive me of the one simple pleasure I demand.

Enough was enough. This is America, and I want my Diet A&W Root Beer without hassle! (Please excuse the tirade in the preceding sentence; I was having a fit of passion.)

I drove to the closest supermarket location, and the one which my family most often patronizes, and asked to speak to the store manager. It was a Stater Brothers market.

I waited an unusually long amount of time, but she finally appeared, attentive and visibly concerned and sympathetic to my plight. As you might suspect, the store was devoid of Diet A&W Root Beer at that time, so I was able to provide the visual of an empty space where the Diet A&W Root Beer should rightfully appear.

After listening to my complaint, she kindly explained the procurement process that she herself follows to ensure a healtly supply of all high-demand products, and that the problem with Diet A&W Root Beer was that re-stocking was completely in the purview of the supplier (7-Up), so the best she could do was keep me informed as to when new supplies arrived.

She provided me with the supplier's re-stocking schedule, and agreed not only to set aside several boxes of Diet A&W Root Beer after the next shipment, but to do this indefinitely for me. Needless to say, I was very impressed with Stater Brothers after that conversation.

As it turns out, empowering myself with the knowledge of the supplier schedule was enought to solve the problem permanently and effectively. I now procure 12-packs of Diet A&W Root Beer at will by simply appearing at the Stater Brothers the day after the 7-Up shipments have been received, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

All Three of my Calendars are up in my Cubicle

When one has several family members, the statistical likelihood of receiving a calendar at Christmas from more than one of those family members is relatively high. That is, much higher than the probability of three members giving a pint of gasoline or a DMV gift card.

This came to pass recently, having received an I Love Lucy calendar, a Classic Car calendar, and an America the Beautiful calendar from three distinct individuals. I Love Lucy happens to be my favorite TV show, and I have stories relating to problems with the scheduling of that show in the morning being only a few minutes in conflict my schedule, but that will have wait for another time.

Out of deference and appreciation for the family members who thought of me at Christmas, I thought it fitting that I use the calendars so selflessly given to me by hanging them in my cubicle. At first, this was a relatively simple task of fashioning paper clips into hooks that were customized such that the calendar would be attached to one end, and the other end attached to any one of several shelf supports therein.

This was a satisfactory solution for two of the three calendars, which fit neatly into empty cubicle wall space. A problem arose, however, when attaching the third and final calendar (the America the Beautiful calendar) to a corner of my cubicle facing the exit. The shelf support upon which the calendar would be hanged was at the very end of the cubicle, so that the "custom paper clip hook" approach meant that the calendar end of the hook--attached to the center of the calendar--caused the calendar to protrude half way out of my cubicle.

In addition to the aesthetic disadvantage of having a calendar stick part way out of one's cubicle, it turned out to be somewhat of an obstacle for others passing by.

In order to maintain my commitment to honoring the gift givers behind these calendars, I had to come up with a way to hang the calendar from the corner shelf support without causing the calendar to protrude out of my cubicle.

After mentally conjuring a precise design of bent paper clip that would solve this problem, I began to work on the task of creating the specialized hook. This involved bending one end, as usual, so that it could hook into the shelf support. The other end was bent so that it first pointed back toward the inside of my cubicle, culminating into a hook shape to support the calendar.

I was gratified to find myself successful on my first attempt to hang the calendar on this specialized paper clip hook. The end of the calendar no longer protruded out of my cubicle, yet the calendar was still manageable. I set about returning to the work for which I am hired to do, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

My Garden Hose Still Leaks, But Not as Badly

Apparently, my wife ran over the end of the hose that the spray nozzle screws onto. If you have ever had to deal with a hose that has been run over at that end, then you are no doubt able to relate to the difficulty of trying to pound it back into precisely the proper shape so that water doesn't like from the bottom of the screw-on nozzle.

The easiest solution, of course, would have been to run down to the nearest Wal-Mart and pick up a new hose. However, because I live in what most would term "the boonies", running down to the nearest Wal-Mart was not as viable an option as it may seem. Additionally, I felt compelled to fix the hose, as parting with $15 to replace an entire hose that could otherwise be repaired seemed indecent.

Arming myself with a hammer and needle-nose pliers, I set off on the task of bending and shaping the misshapen threads at the end of the hose, attempting to restore the sprinkler end of the hose back to its circular shape and with its threads properly aligned.

Following the famed trial-and-error method for a half-hour or so proved futile, and with the sun on its way below the mountains afar, I was faced with the stark reality that I might not be able to wash my car. (Incidentally, that last sentence rhymes. Please read it a second time.) At least not without consequence of severely wetting myself in the process.

Perhaps you have seen the movie Apollo 13, and recall the scene in that movie where the ground-based crew was given a table full of items known to be available in the Apollo spacecraft, and was tasked with fashioning a device that would save the space-borne crew using those parts. This is not unlike what transpired for me.

Rifling through my tool box, I came across a roll of electrical tape. Hastily grabbing the roll in my race against time, I darted out of the garage, grabbed the hose, and began to wrap a strip of tape tightly around the sprinkler end of the hose.

I then attached the spray nozzle over the taped end of the hose, which required an unusual amount of effort and strength, but I would not be denied this moment of victory.

Then came the critical moment. I turned on the spigot and waited for the air to be displaced from the hose. Moments passed. Finally, a small, but manageable stream of water began leaking from the connecting end of the spray nozzle.

I turned on the spray nozzle and water flowed with sufficient pressure to accomplish the task of washing my car, with only a small amount of water leaking, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

I Successfully Extracted the Spent Toilet Paper Roll from the Spindle

I suspect that most people, myself included, rarely ponder quality control at facilities which manufacture toilet paper. Being somewhat ignorant of this process, I cannot explain how the cardboard center of a toilet paper roll can be cut longer than normal. I came across one of these abberations, and it caused a brief moment of distress while attempting to change rolls in one of our bathrooms.

Fortunately, at the time, I was not in immediate need of toilet paper. This particular occasion was in between trips to the bathroom. I was changing the roll only because it was nearly spent, anticipating that I, or others in my family, may require more paper than was left on the roll during his or her next trip to the bathroom.

Upon trying to remove the nearly-spent roll, I discovered immediately that I was unable to remove it from the spindle because the cardboard center was longer than normal, obscuring access to the spindle below it. (As any experienced individual knows, most toilet paper spindles require you to compress one or both sides of the spindle in order to remove it.)

Several attempts to reach the spindle with sufficient force and leverage to remove it had failed, so a more creative solution was called for.

It occurred to me that the cardboard center could be easily removed by finding the corner of the twisted piece that makes up the center, and then pull it. Doing so causes the cardboard center to "unroll" into one long piece of cardboard, not unlike opening a Pillsbury roll.

The drawback to this approach was that there was still toilet paper left on the roll. At this point, I had to make a value judgement as to which was more important at that moment: wasting what little paper was left on the roll vs. being able to accomplish the task I had set out to do.

Boldly, I decided to remove the remaining toilet paper, only I folded it neatly and left it on top of the counter.

I then put my plan into action, which resulted in successful extraction of the toilet paper center from the spindle. I then put the new roll on the spindle and replaced it into the spindle holder, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

My Son's Watch Now Shows the Correct Time

My son has a multi-function watch that was purchased at Wal-Mart for $6.95 + tax. Using the manual as our guide, it was set to the proper time shortly after it was purchased. However, it was purchased during Daylight Savings Time, and has therefore been one hour off for quite awhile. This wasn't a problem since my son had not used the watch for many months, but he recently recovered it from a desk drawer. Noting that it was not set to the right time, and assuming that I know how to operate this timepiece, he handed it to me, requesting that I set it. I assured him that I would.

It is the design nature of these types of watches that pressing more than one button simultaneously will place you into a time- and date-setting mode. The challenge, of course, is to determine the correct combination of buttons (and in some cases, the correct sequence), that arrive at this mode.

With this in mind, I first tried simultaneously pressing both buttons on the right side, (as it happens, I have a watch that calls for these two buttons to be pushed in order to arrive at time-setting mode). The result was to turn on the alarm.

This created a new problem. Activating the watch alarm is tantamount to asking to be awoken in the middle of the night, as this is when inadvertantly-set watch alarms always go off. It is enough of a problem that several other electronic toys at home are somehow triggered to produce noise in the middle of the night.

Quickly, I repeated the process of pressing those two buttons specifically, and was relieved to see that the alarm indicator had disappeared.

Next, I tried pushing the upper-left and lower-right buttons, which arrived at the chronograph function. This was also somewhat disconcerting, because once you arrive at the chronograph function and begin pressing other buttons to undo the mistake, one often inadvertantly starts the timer without knowing how to stop it. This would be a harmless consequence except for the concern that allowing the chronograph to run might be unnecessarily exercising the battery.

I was fortunate once again in that I was able to exit the chronograph function without consequence.

Before continuing with further combinations of buttons, I decided to try simply holding down one button at a time to see if that would work.

Using the process of elimination, I was able to surmise that--if this were the correct way to arrive at time-setting mode--only three of the four buttons would be candidates. I eliminated the light button, thinking that the individual or individuals who designed the watch would not want to unnececssarily exercise battery power by forcing the user to hold down the light button for several seconds in order to arrive at a function that had nothing to do with illuminating the display.

With that in mind, I began with the upper-left-hand button. As luck would have it, I found myself in time-setting mode within three seconds or so.

Actually setting the time itself is a story that will have to wait for another time. Suffice to say, my son's watch now shows the correct time, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

My Cell Phone is Fully Charged

When my cell phone begins to run low on battery power, it emits an intermittant trio of bleeps, each having three bleeps of its own, like this: "bud-a-lup bud-a-lup". It is a Samsung phone, and I can't find the model number on it.

I heard the phone bud-a-lup'ing this morning, so I knew I had little time left on the current charge.

I grabbed my car charger, realizing that my commute (long as it is) would not be enough time to fully recharge my phone. The feeling of giving the phone only a half-charge causes me some distress, so this was not an acceptable situation.

To remedy this problem, I grabbed my wall charger before going out the door. I plugged my phone into the car charger for the commute. When I arrived at work, I disconnected the phone from the car charger, settled into my cubicle, and plugged the phone into the wall.

The LED on the phone turned green just a few minutes ago, indicating that it is fully charged. This brings a bit of relief, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.