Sylvia, enough's enough.

In Neenah, Wisconsin sometimes you find opportunities and sometimes they find you. Some of these activities were sent in by readers, others just came up.

Buy some cheese. Then, eat it in front of the cashier (well, at least some of it). Submitted by Kevin, who is abundant.

I got the cheese in question at a cheese shop in Oshkosh. It was fresh colby. I bought it, (and a piece of chocolate in the shape of Abe Lincoln), and then I tried to open the cheese. But I started to get nervous for some reason at that point, and I couldn't get it open. I twisted and tugged at the wrapping and was just about to try to bite it open when I looked up and saw the cashier was staring at me. "Do you want to open that?" she asked increduously. I said yeah. She motioned for me to hand it to her, and cut the top of the wrapper off with a pair of scissors. She handed it back and it was time for the big moment. I took a huge bite out of it. All I could think to say was "Mmmmm!" The cashier looked baffled. "I hope you enjoy it" she said. I ate another huge bite in the parking lot. That one was just because it was delicious cheese.

Go to a department store and try on the dumbest dresses they have. Submitted by Nicole.

I knew exactly where to go. There's a store at the mall with a fancy dress section, and a lot of the fancy dresses are sequined, gaudy messes. I headed up the escalator. The sale rack in the fancy dress section had some real doozies. I picked three to try on. One had a smattering of sequins down the sides. Another had a crazy belt that wrapped around it. The third looked like a hooker's outfit. After each dress, I came out to check myself out in the hallway mirrors. A nice, plump little lady came over to help me. I think her name was Linda. "Well isn't this darling on you!" she exclaimed. It was such a sweet, sad lie. I looked like Liberace. The second dress just looked wacky. The third dress, the slutty one, made me look busty, so I had to spend some extra time parading that one around and checking myself out. "To what kind of event would someone wear this?" I asked. "Oh, to a party...or some kind of mix and mingle" she said. "A mix and mingle of streetwalkers maybe!" I said. She laughed nervously and seemed kind of hurt. "I'm just kidding," I told her, feeling really guilty. "I love it." Two can play at this lying game, Linda.

Have lunch with a 103 year old birthday girl. This just came up randomly.

Louisa was celebrating her 103d birthday. I got to sit near her while she ate her chicken salad. She was feisty and funny and really sweet. She had the prettiest hands in the world. These are some excerpts from our conversation:

Louisa: I went to the doctor, because I'd been having these stomach aches. I asked him, "Doctor, what can I eat?" He said, "Louisa, you can eat whatever you want." I said, "Suppose I want a cocktail." He said, "go right ahead."
Louisa friend, who was only eighty something: What if he'd said no?
Louisa: I'dve had one anyway! Ha ha ha!
Me: What kind of cocktails do you like?
Louisa: I like martinis. And drinks made with brandy.

Me: What kind of games did you play when you were a girl?
Louisa: Our entertainment was up to us. It was our concern. We played kick the can (Brian Minter is the only person who didn't play it --ed.), we chased each other all around, we made dolls, oh, we had a lot of fun.
Me: The kids in my class like video games.
Louisa: Oh, I'd like to try those.

Louisa: Where do you live, dear?
Me: I live in New York. In Brooklyn.
Louisa: Oh, Brooklyn is where they have that giant field...what's it called?
Me: Prospect Park?
Louisa: No.
Me: Ebbets field, the old baseball field?
Louisa: No.
Me: I'm not sure.
Louisa: Well, you don't know that much about where you live, do you?

Invite the neighbors over for birthday cake. Submitted by me.

It's a surprise for my mom. The doorbell rings, and I rush to the kitchen to prepare the secret surprise cake. As my mom answers the door, my dad hisses, "what are we going to give them to drink?" We're out of wine in a box, which my parents love, but somehow they still make fun of my brother and me for drinking cheap, bad beer. But no one wants any beer tonight, though we did locate some; they just want to eat a lot of cake and make a lot of noise. One neighbor, who is moving to the town of Neenah, where you can have farm animals, offers to house a goat and some chickens for me. I love chickens. My mom shakes her head no, but I catch his eye and nod, grinning, while she's not looking. The neighbors tell a lot of funny stories about pets, and their kids, and how children have crazy names these days (Taylor or Dylan can be a boy OR a girl, that amazed them all) Then they all take off into the night, which is warm and lovely and loud with crickets.

Happy birthday, Marilyn Allen.

*This entry typed while listening to the dog snore.