I like to think of myself as his Pimp.

Say you've accidentally had an encounter with the new Williams Sonoma catalog.

Say it gave you a mean hankerin' for new albeit non-essential kitchen wares, like this:



and this:


and this:


Oh yeah, and especially this. Making cookie crusts in a puny mini-processor can really try one's patience:



This is what you do:

1) You have a lovely Saturday morning breakfast with HCB. As he lingers over his eggs and cappuccino, you casually mention that you really wish you had



Maybe you pout a little, for emphasis. (Although it's entirely unnecessary: he lives for this stuff.)

2) HCB leaves for hockey.

3) Four hours later, you come home from a run and find this little number perched wantonly on your kitchen counter, rays of warm sunshine glinting off its polished surface:



$22 at HCB's favorite GoodWill, still in plastic in its original box.

Works like a charm, every time. He's brought home, among other things: Calphalon pots and pans, countless utensils, serving pieces to match our vintage silverware, vases, a vacuum, mod candlestick holders, a brand new blender and even aforementioned mini-processor, which he purchased for $2 and then sharpened the blade himself.

He's also gathered myriad household items for Alyssa, found Liza a replacement for her Grandma's kerchunker, gifted Rene with a coiled garden hose, and provided Grandma with a new lightweight vacuum.

Need something? Call me.