“There are no stupid questions.”
Oh yes, there are. So very many very stupid questions.
There are the fiduciarily stupid.
In a Mercedes dealership, “Can I buy that car with $40 and trading in my 1979 Chevy Chevette?”
Not only too stupid to drive, he’s probably too stupid to live independently.
Going into a bank, “Do y’all hand out free samples?” Ashamed to say I’ve done this myself, but I didn’t mean it, I thought I was being hilarious.
“How can I be broke when I got checks left?” A check, Gentle Reader is what folks used to use before debit cards. It’s a bank-backed written promise to pay.
Then you have the parentally stupid.
“My three-year-old loves the taste of coffee. Is it okay if I only let him have two or three cups a day?”
After being questioned by the teacher when the first-grader turns in a perfect, working scale-model of the International Space Station, “Why would you think I did his work for him?”
“Why is it illegal? Our air conditioner isn’t working and the car’s full of cardboard for the recycle center. She’s tied up there nice and tight, and I’m not even going the speed limit!”
“Sugar, why don’t you make momma a nice, dry martini? Use the step stool so you can reach the olives. You forgot last time.”
Medically stupid queries.
“I know I got the dia-beat-ies, so I only drink diet Coke when I eat Mack Donald’s. What’s wrong with that?”
“Is it true I can’t get pregnant if I do fifteen jumping jacks after?”
“How am I gaining weight? I only eat salads; macaroni salad, potato salad, ham salad, ambrosia salad…”
“How come that guy has a handicapped spot? He ain’t on crutches, or limping, or nothing!”
Romantically Stupid.
“Is this the best ring you could afford?”
Not only is, “Does this make me look fat?” a stupid question; legendary and prodigious is the stupidity of the person who answers it. In any manner.
“We’ve been dating two whole weeks! Why wouldn’t I want to lend you $20,000?”
“Baby, who you gonna believe? Me, or your lyin’ eyes?”
“Honey, do you think my sister is prettier than me?”
Stupidity in the great outdoors.
“Who wants to bet me I can’t rassle a ‘gator?”
“Look! That fox looks like he brushed his teeth, but forgot to rinse! He looks friendly, wanna go pet him?”
“Lookit all this pretty ivy! How ‘bout we put some in pots and take it home?” Twenty minutes later: “You itchy?”
“That water looks clean! Wouldja gimme the canteen?” Six hours later: “Oh God! Wouldja please just let me die?”
Stupid questions men ask.
“How come it takes you so long to get ready?”
“Why do you need four pairs of black shoes?”
“I’m having a big steak. Why do I even need a vegetable?”
“You said you were trying to lose weight. Do you really think you should eat that chocolate?”
“You sound upset. Is it that time of the month? Why don’t you calm down?”
“Honey-pie, why do you need that baseball bat?”
Stupid questions that I’m guilty of asking.
To the dog, when looking at something either consumed or destroyed: “What have you done?”
To The Kid, when looking at something either consumed or destroyed: “What have you done”?
“I think I can eat another stack of pancakes, don’t you?” Twenty minutes later: “Why did you make me eat so much?”
In the eighties: “Does my hair look flat?”
“Do I look stupid?”
And the stupidest, most infuriating question of all time.
“Don’t you know who I am!?!”
Thanks for your time.
This week I’d like to talk about all the wondrous, glorious things you can put inside said potato. This time of year, it’s an easy cheap meal, that once you get in the oven practically does all the work for you. And if people are coming over, baked spuds with a topping bar and a big salad make a nice easy spread.
Shredded chicken from a store-bought rotisserie and drizzled with chicken stock spiked with lemon juice, and thickened with a cornstarch slurry which you’ve studded with defrosted frozen peas. Again, works with both types of spud.
It may sound really weird and trendy enough to make you wanna holler, but I love creamed kale on a baked sweet. If you can’t face kale anymore, try creamed spinach.
Drop on some diced ham and a poached egg or two. Then spoon on the hollandaise. Best with white.
Thanks for your time.
When Christmas rolled around I just about melted that miraculous little piece of plastic. I bought multiple gifts for family, friends, and pretty much anybody I ever met. I bought enough decorations for our little trailer to light up Time Square.
Whoops! I have no defense except youth and inexperience, but I’d completely forgotten the “pay it all back plus interest” portion of the program.
Pool and share talents. Maybe you love zipping around town on errands, but hate wrapping presents, and your best bud would rather wrap then go to the bank and dry cleaners. Then you run, and she can deal with paper and ribbon.
Make it a homemade holiday. Every year a good portion of the gifts I give are made by me. But I’m not talking about macaroni necklaces or unidentifiable papier mache animals. The creation should be something that the recipient can’t make, can’t afford to buy, or really, really likes the version that you produce.
Dog owners get our special pumpkin peanut butter puppy treats. The more culinarily adventurous get flavored salts. Gluten-free folks don’t get our cheese straws but get double the buckeyes. Everybody gets our special hot cocoa mix with homemade marshmallows that come in Christmas mugs which I buy at a thrift store for less than a dollar each.
The packing for these gifts is purchased at the dollar store, which, by the way, is terrific for stocking stuffers and small presents.
There are a couple little-known benefits to shopping online at a merchant who has local brick and mortar locations. If you can’t score free shipping, lots of companies will ship it to their store for free. You just have to go pick it up. If you buy something online, and need to return it, most will let you bring it into their local shop.
Thanks for your time.
It’s not because they’re grown in the shadow of that nuclear power plant and set off Geiger counters, but because the baking potatoes at Carlie C’s are huge. Just one of these puppies could make fries for everybody at Woodstock, or enough Vodka to get all of Moscow gloriously snockered, or if hollowed out, become a charming two-story starter home.
It’s a cheap meal. For a couple dollars, I can purchase a large amount of hearty comfort food, which we can dress to our own desires.
But tragically, many folks ruin the dining experience by failing to get the very best out of them.
First, set the oven to 350 degrees. Then clean them. I scrub mine under warm running water using only my hands and a drop of dish detergent. They’re grown underground, so they need to be well-cleaned. Just make sure every last lick of soap is rinsed away.
At this point you want to prepare the skin for the oven, and flavor it. A little bit of fat will crisp the skin and allow the flavoring component to stick. Any kind of fat will work, except things like olive, truffle, or toasted sesame oil, because the long bake will impart a bitter taste and unappetizing aroma.
The plan with this column was to give you some interesting topping ideas for your well-cooked taters.
Thanks for your time.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t talk to strangers. I heard it from my parents when I was a kid. Later on I heard it from Petey and The Kid (Don’t they sound like a buddy cop movie, though? Maybe played by Bob Newhart and Tim Curry). And I still get it when I’m out—pretty much every time.

One afternoon my mom, a toddler-aged Kid, and I were walking through the parking lot of a local mall to get the car and go home. Two teenaged guys were working on a car with the hood open. Having driven my share of less than reliable autos, I felt for them.
Turns out the pair were attempting some grand theft auto. My helpful gesture was unappreciated by them, but the rightful owner was pretty grateful for my meddling/helpfulness.
That’s how I met the Murphy’s. Through them, I met Petey. So, if I’d stayed home being a good girl, I would never have met the man who was destined (cursed?) to become my spouse, and then there would be no Kid.

You wanna hear some horrific facts? 40% of the food in the US is never eaten. It’s thrown away. That’s around 250 pounds per person per year. Globally, 4 billion tons of food is wasted each year. 60% of shoppers buy more food than they need. What’s almost criminal is that fact that they know they’re doing it at the time of purchase.
If the food doesn’t make good leftovers, you don’t want it hanging around. If, on the other hand it reheats well, and would make a lunch that you’d actually take to work and eat—go for it. When you’re cleaning up after that original dinner, portion it out and wrap it for brown bagging. If you won’t get to it for more than four days, label then freeze it.
And your freezer is your best ally in the quest to quell waste. Don’t throw out old crackers, chips, and bread. Dump it all into a zip-top bag, throw it in the chill chest, and when you need breadcrumbs, breader or such, take it out, season it according to food and mood, grind it finely in a food processor, then toast it at 300 degrees for 15-20 minutes. Only make as much as you need, and if it’s touched raw meat, toss it.
If Thanksigving’s at your place, you’re going to have leftovers tomorrow. The turkey can be used in place of chicken in any dish. Make tacos, or pot pie, or white chili. And don’t forget the mandatory sandwich before bed (well, mandatory for me, anyway).
And instead of retail mayhem, you get to sleep.


It’s also partially responsible for a little something called mustard gas.
1-pound sprouts, cleaned and sliced extremely thinly
Refrigerate for 2 hours up to overnight. When ready to serve, sprinkle crumbled bacon on top of each serving. Serves 6-8.
Once you clean and blanch your sprouts, you can finish them in any manner that tickles your fancy.
Just don’t do it.
I’m a sucker for a puppy (and all dogs are puppies—always, no matter their age or size).
It’s not just a good idea, it’s vital to do some research on dogs in general, and specifically, the breed in which you’re interested. My family had no idea that in addition to being more energetic than a bus full of sugared-up cheerleaders, they’re hounds, which means they’re loud. Really loud. Like, bloodhound loud.
Honest, she showed up, dripping in malodorous “mud”, hair completely ruined, and thermonuclear danger in her eye.
Fluffy was the one that taught me that a dog can be your very best friend, full of constant, unconditional love. The two of us used to sit on the curb in front of our house and share Charm’s lollipops. We’d take turns, lick for lick.


Anything can be evaluated this way.


I’ll tell you how good this cake is. Not only does it not have frosting or a glaze, it doesn’t even need it. I’ve never said that about any other cake in the history of cakes.
3¼ cups + 2 tablespoons cake flour
Preheat oven to 325F. Thoroughly grease and flour heavy 12 cup Bundt pan, or a mini Bundt pan, then spray with oil/flour cooking spray, covering the entire inside surface.
Off mixer, fold in nuts. Pour into pan.
(The answer is yes.)