That sounded pretty damn clever to me, but what do I know? I'm only an honorary Jew. I told this story to a Jewish friend, who provided a helpful correction.

"Bubbie, we didn't win," he explained, "we survived."

I think I understand what he meant, but enough quibbling. Let's eat!

"Internet," I asked, "please tell me about 'artists' newsletter.' "

And the idiot-savant Internet sent me to some damned hillbilly site that posed the provocative question, "So who is Casanova, anyway?"

The publishers then went on to answer their own question:

We are an organization of cake decorators and confectioners from Northern Virginia, DC, and Maryland who enjoy getting together every month to visit, watch a demonstration, and sample each other's creations. Our purpose is to promote creativity and experimentation in cake decorating, sugar art, chocolate, pastries, candies, and just about anything edible that can be done decoratively. We welcome anyone interested in meeting other cake decorators and swapping ideas and techniques to contact us and attend one of our meetings.

This Internet nonsense is getting ridiculouser than ever.

That's obviously good advice, but what do I do with it?

I suppose the only thing is to follow the example of Lord Goring in Oscar Wilde's An Ideal Husband: "I always pass on good advice. It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use to oneself."

"What did you think of it?" I asked.

"It was pretty slow going in parts," replied Enrico, "but I enjoyed the happy ending."

"I don't remember a happy ending," I said. "I thought almost everyone dies."

"Exactly!" exclaimed Enrico. "I was happy when it ended."

Whatever.

But what about the last words spoken by a human being on the moon? Gene Cernan's exit line was ...

wait for it ...

"Let's get this mother out of here."

!!!

Historians disagree as to whether that's what Cernan actually said, but what does it matter? I think it's important that the facts shouldn't diminish the value of a good anecdote.

I can't imagine what I'll do with ten minutes of invincibility, but I'm sure it will come in handy.

After a of couple minutes, I noticed a pair of worms floating in the pan. I figured that if the broccoli wasn't toxic for worms, it probably wouldn't be toxic for me either. Many of my friends disagree.

Oh well, no one ever suggested that food was simple.

She also keeps me posted on contemporary semantics. She judged my new cheese and nails sculpture to be "hella-tight," which is an order of magnitude better than "tight." I believe those terms are roughly analogous to "way cool" and "cool," respectively.

I'm not sure, though. Kids always keep their linguistic cards close to their vest.

For months, Marsha's been trying to get a decision from the administrator about her book. The administraitor seems incapable of making a decision. I think that's his way of ensuring he won't make the wrong one. His bureaucratic strategy is apparently successful, he's been entrenched behind his greasy desk for ages.

Marsha's had enough of his dilly-dallying, and told him as much at the last trustees' meeting. She gave him a take-it-or-leave-it ultimatum; she told him it was time to "defecate or abdicate."

Later, over a few beers, I asked Marsha what she meant by "defecate or abdicate."

"That's just a polite way of saying 'shit or get off the pot,' " she explained. "It was also obfuscated enough for an administraitor to understand."