"If you've got an even-tempered cat who's a good sport, here's a fun experiment we heard about from Brian Jones, a physics professor at Colorado State University.  Take the cat and go into a dark, carpeted room.  Slowly push and drag the cat along the carpet on its side.  Try it at different speeds.  If you do it right, you'll see sparks flash between the cat and the carpet." - Today's "Kitchen Sink Science" newspaper column

     I wonder: Does my friend, Betsy, have a lock on all the luck in the world?  Not only is she cute, smart, and musically talented, she had the good fortunate to be attacked by an ostrich. 
     And she didn't even have to take it into a dark room and rub it on the carpet!  Just look! 
     I'm beginning to suspect that I missed out on something very, very important during those 6.5 days I was absent in first grade....

     Saturday I got into trouble just by going to a Pizza Hut for dinner.  I would have written about it before now but an anchovy head that I found on my pillow Sunday morning indicated that  it might be best to wait a few days.
     It all started when I tried to order the Sicilian pizza.
     "Uh, I'm sorry," the burly, husky-voiced waiter informed me, "but the Sicilian is, uh, no longer with us."
     "You mean you're out of it or...?"
     "The Sicilian has obtained employment elsewhere - possibly as compost, but you didn't hear that from me."
     "But you really said it was great in that big ad campaign, didn't you?"
     "A terrible misunderstanding.  We thought maybe with a little more hand-tossing, it might be persuaded to rise to the level of adequate, but, alas - it was not to be.  Please accept our apologies."
     "But the Sicilian is still on the menu."
     "It is?  What an unfortunate oversight on our part.  I distinctly recall ordering that rubbed out.  I assure you, next time you come in, you'll never even be able to tell it was there.  Here - have a free Pepsi compliments of the management."
     "A Pepsi isn't going to fill my stomach the way the Sicilian would have," I whimpered.
     "I humbly suggest the deep dish vegetarian.  Very good ingredients, and no animal died in the process of its manufacture.  At least not that anybody can prove in a court of law."
     "But my heart was really set on - "
     "Look - are you thick-crusted or what?  You want a piece of a lousy, no-good, greasy Sicilian, you're welcome to go try to find one in the dumpster out back or the buried 55 gallon drum of your choice, but don't be coming into my restaurant trying to lay one on my table because we ain't running that kind of establishment, ok?  The Sicilian is history!  Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I've got a few olives in the back in need of a good, swift cleaver.  You decide you want to order something respectable, you wave your hand - just not too fast.  Alright?  Alright."
     I ended up just going to the salad bar per the suggestion of the gentlemen who came and sat with my wife and me. 
     Only to have some near-sighted old lady with a set of tongs mistake me repeatedly for a salad topping.
     It was, as they say at the Federal Emergency Management Agency, quite the anomalous phenomenon.
     One that has landed me a spot on the waiting list of the Federal Restaurant Patron Protection Program....

     Late Breaking Development: They found the Sicilian I was looking for this afternoon.  It had somehow got itself buried under the golden arches of a new McDonald's being built on the outskirts of town. 
     Needless to say, I've tasted better....