Over the course of the holiday weekend, Jeff and I paused for a while to watch the space shuttle launch. I watched for both prurient and practical reasons. Not only did I want the shuttle to lift off safely, but I also was beginning to exhibit a senior citizen's "get off my lawn" opinion where the shuttle-gawking RV nation was concerned.

I'm at T minus seven.

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In honor of my recent hate-mailer, I'd like to announce a call for topics for the "Cynthia Singler Miura presents the Anthrax Writing Week." Topic suggestions should be short, preferably with satirical promise. Bonus points and extra consideration will be given to topics with relevance to the original email.

Extra bonus points and scritchies for topic suggestions so ludicrous that they make me snort out loud and say, "Oh yes, I have to write about that."

Since I believe in letting everyone stand on their own words around here, I'll share what I just found in my inbox. The name and email address are unchanged. I see no reason to obscure the sender's identity.

Every few months, I feel compelled to turn the mailbag over, shake it out a bit, and blow out the crumbs. Every now and then, a letter actually falls out. Most of the time, I forget to answer it; those that I actually remember to answer are rarely answered in anything resembling a straightforward fashion.

I won't sport with your intelligence any more - let's get to the mailbag.

Jay, of parts unknown, writes in response to my rice-rice-baby entry "Turn down the stereotype; we can't hear you":

Welcome to Day Two of Ask Domesticat - the advice column that is neither columnar nor containing any actual advice! [What is Ask Domesticat?]

By popular demand (otherwise known as "five of you asked") it's Ask Domesticat - the advice column that is neither columnar nor containing any actual advice! [What is Ask Domesticat?]