I went to open a can a couple of days ago and it took me forever to locate my can opener. I realized that I haven't opened a 'can' can for months and months. All this cooking from scratch and putting up my own has just crept into my life and taken over!!! What a nice thought. I just had the last of my chicken and rice soup this past weekend and will have to can some more. There is nothing like it - just the right amount of seasonings, you can make it ricey-thick or brothy-thin. I have the comfort of knowing that, if the zombies take over everywhere else, I will be just fine for quite some time. And I have to agree with OFG on who the real zombies will be/are.
Another topic high on the Musing List is that there seem to be either Givers or Receivers in the world, but very few who can both give and receive. I have friends (you know who you are) who are very happy to give me almost literally the shirt of their back, but, when it comes to receiving anything in return, you have to chase them down, tackle them and force them to take it. I mean, really. That comes to receiving compliments gracefully - something with which I am completely uncomfortable. You know the type: "That shirt looks wonderful on you!" "What, this shirt? OMG it makes my arms look fat!"
Back in the OL (Other Life) in Ohio, I ran with a wild crowd. It was not unusual for us to gather for unfettered nights of ....bowling. Now, these people were very serious about their bowling. I found that being serious about bowling was sort of an oxymoron, but they tolerated my flippant attitude and complete lack of talent and athletic ability. I imagine it was because I was always the one who had everyone over afterwards for food and drink. However, one night shines out in its own fabulous light. The night I won a prize for my bowling. Not only was it a prize, but it was the only such prize every bestowed by this particular bowling alley that we frequented. I won the "Worst Adult Bowler" prize! It was a bottle of Cold Bird. This, for you wine aficionados not familiar with the more obscure vintages, is about seventeen levels below Cold Duck. Which is about twenty levels below Asti Spumanti. Which is about another fifteen levels below cheap bubbly wine. You get the picture. I wore this badge proudly. But it became a game to see who could get rid of the bottle by foisting it off (unbeknownstly - word? should be) on someone else in the group. We referred to it as "Pass the Bottle". That bottle of rotgut made the rounds for over a year. It was slipped under dog beds, left in the back seats of automobiles, disguised as other objects that were not as disagreeable - at one Halloween party, the passers had wrapped it up in swaddling cloths and left it, to all intents and purposes a small, stiff baby, on the hosts bed. Sadly, it was accidentally dropped on a patio during a rather rambunctious summer cookout, and that was the end of that.