I’m looking down into my trashcan, staring at the bottom of an upturned yogurt container. Fifteen minutes ago, I devoured its contents with gusto, savoring every spoonful. Now I’m looking at it. I cannot turn away.

It is empty; I have ingested its semiviscous innards. Discarded, it should be of no further concern, but it speaks to me with words that are, at a single stroke, both silent and thunderous. I am reading the words Best by May 17, 2008.

Comrades! Eggnog is now available in the white office fridge. Nog season is officially open! Rejoice!

And yes, before you ask, dear office-mates, the answer to the invariable followup question is “yes”.

Tonight’s accidental discovery: it turns out a handful of M&Ms and a glass of gewürtztraminer are a lot less incompatible than I would have guessed.

I was looking forward to getting into the office today and brewing myself a cup of French Vanilla tea I’d bought on Friday and stashed in my desk drawer. I love vanilla, and was really looking forward to drinking some the morning’s oatmeal. Somehow, though, despite its rich vanilla aroma, this tea manages to taste almost nothing like the storied bean. It’s just “tea”. Meh. What a letdown.

To my incredulous colleague (you know who you are!) who indignantly demanded to know what sort of lunch I could have brought from home that would possibly cause me to—unthinkably—reject their offer of an ambrosial luncheon over Taco Bell “food” at the Silo, here is my pictorial answer, as promised:

I’m not sure why you dared me to put it up on the Internet, but there you go. I aim to please! Now go enjoy your chupavergas or double order of putitos or whatever it is over there you seem to like so much and for the love of God, let me eat my lunch IN PEACE.

The plum crop is in, and, though less bountiful than last year’s bumper crop, it is still ridiculously large. Like last year, there is simply too much to eat fresh before it spoiled, so I set about making plum jelly in order to preserve as much of it as I could.

I got as far as my second gallon when I was about to run out of pectin. I was on the verge of buying more when I realized the madness had to end. I still have at least a couple of gallons from last year’s crop; what the hell was I doing making more? But if I wasn’t making jelly, what in Rodale’s name was I going to do with all these plums?

Foist them off on my colleagues, that’s what. Come on down and grab some fresh apricots and plums, guys; they’re sitting on my desk. If you do not take some fruit I will find you and give it to you, by force, if necessary. You will eat this fruit. You will eat it because you want it. Because it’s goddamned delicious. Seriously, they’re fantastic. Eat these fucking plums. Right now.