Anyway, during the school year I bring it home and mess around with it. Lately I’ve been getting trashed at playing Words With Friends. I’ve only played against Lloyd and my cousin, but I am really, really bad at it. My guess? Everyone else is cheating.

If you have an iPod, iPad or an iPhone, though, you must immediately spend the 99 cents on the Autoharp app. Do you know what an autoharp is? It’s a harp-like instrument from long ago that has these bars that goes across all the strings. Each bar is marked with a button that says its chord. You push the button, strum the strings – instant music chords! It’s easier than playing a ukulele.

Well, the app gives you all the nostalgia and satisfaction of playing an autoharp without the bulk or smell of the 70′s. It is so fun!

Remember: C, F, G, C. Those are the only chords you’ll ever need to know.
(Unless you’d like G, C, D, G. Repeat as needed.)

I’ve gone on and on before about how much I like to peel them, but with these oranges I’m using the peel to make roses. It just takes a minute, and it’s very satisfying.

Peel, cut the peel in half (or just rip off one end if you want a giant rose) and start rolling from the cut end to the curly end. It’s like making these paper flowers, but with really delicious-smelling, oddly thick paper that makes your fingers oily.

Just rip,

roll,

and shove a toothpick through it to hold it together. (This rose is way too big.)

I like that as they dry they are kind of curving into more petal-like forms. I’m hoping by the end of this bag of oranges I’ll have a whole bouquet’s worth…… and then what will I do with them?

It could have been full of chewed gum and I still would have been over the moon, because it was so exciting just looking at the golden seal and the label on the back that was a ‘customs declaration’ notice! (Life in Seward is incredibly predictable, so this really was a heart-stoppingly fun moment.)

It was a gorgeously wrapped package, with a mysterious post-it attached. (See above banner.) On the back of the post-it was this charming note:

Oh my gosh, Ribs (of ScarfEnvy), you totally floored me! I can just hear the phrase ‘proper cup of proper tea’ in an English accent and I go all melty. Thank you so much for the surprise and the tea! The only downside to this is that I got home late from work, opened the package (dancing about as Lloyd can attest), then went to go watch ‘Groundhog Day” with the Gebhardts and the Pesters and now I can’t drink any of it until the morning. Drat you, finicky stomach! Oh well – a small price to pay for such a happy occasion.

In the morning I’ll update with the tea brewing. It’ll be late-ish, though, because it’s going to snow and I have a lot of sleeping in to do.

Cheers!

Ok, so here’s where the guilt will rip at my stomach. I love that the Cuppow people thought up such a smart thing and then had the gumption to create it and market it! Kudos to them!! Bravo!!

With that being said…. er, Cheap Girl tried to prototype her own version.

(Hangs head in shame for not financially contributing to entrepreneurs’ success.)

(Lifts head in small amount of pride for spelling ‘entrepreneurs’ correctly on the first try.)

Honestly, I’m never going to take this jar out of my house – I have plenty of thermal travel mugs for that. If I bought a Cuppow it would be one more thing that sat around here for years and eventually would go to Goodwill. I’m trying to be resourceful here, so I tried some homemade options.

Warning: Do not try my homemade options. Buy the Cuppow instead.

Option One: I just need a top with a hole. Hello, Beer Lizard! Let’s damage some lids.

Good in theory, and it did work, but while the top had a smooth surface for drinking, the underside is skin-slicingly dangerous. Not good for washing and re-using.

Option Two: Find a lid. I don’t have pictures of the various lids I tried to see if they’d fit without modifications. As it turns out, the wide-lid jar size is almost universal. Almost. I had a few things I could have tried, but they all would have leaked.

Eventually I found that the lids from the set of ‘disposable’ sippy cups that I kept on hand for when little kids would come over fit pretty darn well. I sliced off the outer edge, cut out the inside of the sippy part, smoothed the cut edge with the magic of fire and – viola’! Something I could clamp down, leak-free!

I took it to the Gebhardts on Sunday where there were some stares and the phrase, “Is that a sippy cup?” was uttered several times (from both adults and children). My ego took some blows, especially since no one noticed the sock. *sniff*

I have since lowered the profile, as you can see in the banner photo. I balanced the cut part on top for the photo below so you can see how much I cut off, but it still has sippy-cup-like proportions.

Oh, well. At least it was an afternoon of puttering fun. I do so love to putter.

On Sunday I actually threw out one sock that had an irreparable hole, then had a long talk with my crazy side and threw out the other one, too. It was a somber moment.

Then I thought, “Jar Cozy”.

See, all those wise people who re-use jars even drink out of them! (Lloyd even has jars with handles that he keeps in the freezer for beer, so he can’t really mock me for this.) They can even be used for hot beverages, and the jar I was thinking of using holds a whole pint of ‘fighting-the-Sunday-nap’ coffee.

So, I retrieved the socks from the trash can, lopped off the tops and made a couple of jar cozies. I only need one, but the process of stitching the cut edge so it won’t unravel went pretty badly on the first sock, so I’m trying again on the other. Any suggestions?

The sock even covers the bottom of the jar, making a built-in coaster!

Tune in tomorrow to hear how I prototyped the jar even more! (Or not – it won’t be that exciting._

They had a blast. There are many things to choose from – swings, a merry-go-round (that for some reason I didn’t even see), a castle/adventure/mutipurpose climber, and best of all – The Web.

Deborah and I marveled that such a thing would even be allowed in our lawsuit-focused society. Just look at it! This has ‘strangulation’ and ‘broken bones’ written all over it, and the kids love it, as they should

When I was a kid we had two of those geodesic climbing domes on our school playground (one big, one small) – made up of metal bars put together not with rivets, but good old nuts and bolts. I believe the big one caused one broken arm/leg a year. Ah, good times.

This thing looked like a blast. I wanted to climb it, but I have these darn bones to look after.

Shoulda risked it.

It’s the cool pasta that is made with Jerusalem artichoke flour that Peggy talked about back when I was experimenting with the spaghetti squash. It’s fascinating!

I cooked some up for supper. Yuuuuuuummmmm.

I regret that I put a garlic clove in the cooking water (which I sometimes do when feeling fancy), because as it boiled I kept getting a plant-related whiff of something, but I couldn’t tell if it was garlic or artichoke. Whatever it was, it was very pleasant. As their website says:

Back in 1925, Anthony Alphonse DeBole, a gourmet cook and horticulturist, began experimenting with Jerusalem Artichokes, a 100% starch free vegetable. He found that when converted into flour, the Jerusalem Artichoke remained starch free and that when added to bakery products, it provided a distinct and pleasant aroma and taste.

DeBoles proudly offers the only brand of premium organic handmade pastas made with Jerusalem artichoke flour. A rich source of protein and dietary fiber as compared to traditional pasta, Jerusalem artichoke flour also naturally contains inulin, a prebiotic that stimulates the growth of beneficial bacterial in the digestive tract that in turn aids digestion and lowers blood pressure and cholesterol. Our signature recipe has a subtle nutty flavor and light smooth texture that is never sticky.

I’m so curious how they make the flour. Do they grind up the whole artichoke or just the edible parts? I have to admit that I didn’t notice much of a difference in taste, though that might be from the gobs of Italian dressing that I soak everything with. I still have half a box, so a salted-water-only cooking and topped-with-butter tasting might be in order.

I just love getting artichoke-related items.

Thanks, Peggy!

UPDATE: Research done, and it turns out that Jerusalem artichokes are very different from the other kind that I know. The edible part is the root, and it looks a lot like ginger or potatoes. Huh. Who’da thunk it?

This is a little test post to see if I transferred things over correctly and to let people know that Lauren isn’t dead.

If you notice anything that doesn’t work, please leave a comment.

Oh, if you notice that Lauren is dead, please call her mom. I’m kinda busy

For instance, I am a champion ring spinner, though I have yet to actually win an award.

Also, I think too many green olives in a salad can ruin it. (I guess that’s an opinion, not a fact, but I’m going with it.)

His first meeting was at the Paxton in downtown Omaha. I returned from shopping to pick him up, but the meeting wasn’t over yet. I snooped around taking pictures, then sitting on a bench to eavesdrop on District 1′s caucus, giving State Senator Deb Fischer (hopeful future U.S. Senator)a thumbs up after her speech to the District 1 group, then freaking out a little bit when she came over to shake my hand and visit a little while. “Don’t say anything stupid,” my brain warned my mouth, but my mouth didn’t get the message right away. She was lovely and friendly, and didn’t even act like I was a moron, and for that reason alone she has my vote.

The Paxton is an amazing building, and I wish we would have had a little more time to snoop around there. The main meeting was held in their ballroom, and the caucuses were held on the balconies around the lobby.

It was very grand, but we couldn’t stick around. Lloyd needed to get to his nerd Drupal meeting.

I did not stick around for that one, mostly because if there’s anything I know less about than politics, it’s computer programming.

No…. wait – zilch about both.

Ever since high school Sam, Brad and I read, more or less, the same books. This was useful because paperback books could cost as much as $1.95 each and we certainly couldn’t afford to spend that much on books as often as we would like.

Before high school, I don’t remember ever buying a book (except books to play games: D&D, Star Fleet Battles, Car Wars…). All the books came from the library. In Concordia Missouri I can’t remember ever going into the library. I can’t remember if there was a library. But there was a book store, and there were always 3 shelves of Science Fiction and Fantasy books there.

My recollection is that I mostly purchased Science Fiction and Brad mostly purchased Fantasy, but that we all read all of them. Brad was a little paranoid about his books, and we had to learn to read with the book open no more than 40 degrees, lest we break the spine.

But none of that is what I wanted to write about. I wanted to write about taste. It seemed like we all read and enjoyed the same books back then. Not so much anymore. We still like some of the same books, but just because one of us likes a book is no guarantee that the others will.

I’m assuming that everyone’s tastes change over time. I know mine have. Back then my favorite authors were Piers Anthony, Anne McCaffery and Robert Heinlein (actually, I think Piers Anthony was Brad’s, and by some obscure rule, we can not have the same favorite author at any given time). Now I think that most everything that Piers Anthony has written is only fit for teen age boys, that Anne McCaffery  hasn’t written anything worth reading in 25 years and that Robert Heinlein is still The Man.

So, given that Brad and Sam’s taste in books have also changed, how can I tell which books to recommend/give/loan to them? Sam sent the Iron Druid series by Kevin Hearne back with us when we were in Missouri over Christmas. I was reading something else (I can’t remember what) at the time, and so Lauren read them before me. She had some LOL moments, and seemed to enjoy them. I just finished reading them today (and finishing the main quest line in Skyrim — thanks MLK).

I liked them. They were witty, the world the author created was interesting and (this is increasingly important to me) internally consistent. I’m glad I read them, but I don’t know if Sam thinks they are the best books he’s read in a long time, or just a good read. I would like to know the answer to this, but I would like to know it because I understand his taste in books – not because I had to ask him. I want to know this, so that I know what books to send back to him. I also want to know this about Brad for similar reasons.

If you’re having trouble coming up with a comment for this post, Favorite Author(s) and why would be legit.

I’ll admit that I didn’t have a plan for a cool design – I just scribbled away then bought a Magic Eraser. (Shopping Tip: They are cheapest at Menards.)

Have you ever used a Magic Eraser? I think the company has made a pact with the devil, because straight out of the box they don’t feel like any substance on earth – slightly spongy, yet heavy. We get them at school and I just snip off a bit and use it until it’s done, otherwise the whole thing is wasted after minimal use.

I wet it down, which is fun because if you let water trickle into it, it will hold a LOT and not drip, making it slightly spongy, yet heavier. Anyway: scrub, scrub, scrub

Regret, regret, regret.

I can’t get a non-washed out shot of the final clean, but everything came off except that the blue and green markers have left light stains. I’m not really worried about it because one day I will wash it with Soft Scrub and bleach it out, but until then, I can let years go by.

Next idea? I’m up for anything.

1. The building where I work used to be half-liquor store (insert your joke here) and half-apartment. The building was given to us long ago by the grandparents of one of my preschools (we just had to take over the mortgage payments).

2. Underneath the apartment side is a full basement, which is a godsend. When I taught 2nd grade forever ago I remember being frustrated at how little storage my room had, and thought that every classroom should have a basement or an attic. That storage space is a treasure.

3. Down in our basement is a room used by a group of quilters from church. They quilt on Monday evenings, and occasionally one of the quilters comes in on Monday afternoon to do a little work.

4. In an effort to try and save money and resources, I have posted signs in the basement asking staff to turn the lights off when they go back upstairs.

5. On Monday afternoon, I opened the door to the downstairs, flicked on the light, and got the royal heebeejeebees scared out of me at the sight of a quilter lady standing at the bottom of the stairway. She had been working in the back room and somebody had come downstairs and turned off the lights when they left, leaving her to shuffle her way over from the back room in the darkness. I expressed my sorrow and concern, but she just tut-tutted me away, “I’m ok. I know there’s a pole to watch out for.”

Yikes.

6. Monday evening I went to buy a 4-pack of nightlights and came back to install them all over the place.

7. Upon opening the package, I freaked out because they had looked empty! What the what?!?! Is this some Buy Your Own Bulb system I am unfamiliar with??

8. Oh. They are LED nightlights. The bulb is in there, it is just teeny tiny.

9. This took a lot of words to tell a boring story.

Long ago when Lloyd and I used to have a landline, I would call home and leave a message if I had something important to remember. That was so helpful: “Hey! I’ve got a message! Hey! It’s me! Hey! I don’t remember leaving that message.”

Things are bad now. No landline means no reminder. I try writing things down on the piece of cardstock I keep in my back pocket, but at the end of the workday when I’m finishing those things up, I often set the paper down and leave it at work.

I think I may have found a good old-fashioned solution.

My appointment was at 3:15, and I blissfully sank into the chair that just happened to be at the same angle as my sleeping chair and nearly fell asleep. Then Jenny* got out her pointy tool to evaluate my teeth.

Scrape.

Poke.

Sccrrrrrraaaape.

Poke poke.

Sssssssccccrrrrrraaaaaaape.

Small jab.

I thought we might be all done, but then she said, “Well, you have just a little bit of tartar on each and every tooth in all the nooks and crannies in your mouth and maybe some up in your brain. Sit back and relax while I blast it out with a jackhammer.”

I jest. She was really, really sweet and I really did just have little spots, but they were in between all of my teeth (I don’t floss regularly). She used a water-assisted scraper and it wasn’t too awful. The worst part was how my eyes hurt from staring at the fluorescent lights for so long. After a while I tried to estimate how many triangles make up the light cover on a 2′ x 4′ fixture, and I’m going with 80,000. Sccccrrrrrraaaaaape.

When it was over I got a goody bag full of stuff. This was different from previous visits where they would offer me a toothbrush and I’d politely decline. Heck, Lloyd and I have had the same one since we got married, why would we need another one? (Again, I jest.) This time she just handed me things that might perhaps keep the scraping and jabbing to a minimum.

I’ll do my best, Jenny.

When I was back visiting the actual dentist, I asked Lynn (dental assistant extraordinaire) that I wished I had asked Jenny: Based on a scale of 1 to 10 — 10 being the worst teeth you’ve worked on today – how bad were my teeth?

Lynn laughed, left the room, and came back with the answer: 2 and a half. Not too shabby, huh?

* I’m not sure if that’s her name.

I wear it every single day. It’s green, and I am drawn to green clothing. (Brown, too. Green and brown – I think I subconsciously want to be a tree.) I wear it with my coat but keep it on for the first hour or so of my morning. It keeps the chill away and it’s so cozy it makes me feel almost like I’m still in bed.

After months of wearing it daily, however, it was starting to smell like neck.

“Neck?” you ask?

Yes, neck. Slightly ‘maybe-I-should-have-washed-my-hair-yesterday-or-today’ smelling. I’ve thought about washing it for a while, but I took the tag off of it when I bought it so I didn’t know if it needed some sort of special care. Hand-wash only in the tears of a sainted grandmother who bakes pies for the poor or some such nonsense.

After a while, the neck smell was getting to me and I just threw it in some water with some soap. “What’s the worst that could happen?” I thought. “The colors run or it shrinks up.”

Then I thought, “No. The worst that could happen is that the colors completely fade.”

“No. The worst that could happen is that the fibers disintegrate and it completely falls apart.”

“No. The worst that could happen is that it completely falls apart and the lady from wherever this was made has magical powers and senses that I’ve neglected the grandmother tears and she uses her magic portal to step into my kitchen and beats the living tar out of me.”

Maybe I should just buy a new scarf.

Or go see a psychiatrist.

What’s the worst that could happen?

So, here I was with a whole day with no obligations and a long list of things that could be done: pay some bills, take down the Christmas tree, do the laundry, start the big house purge, clean the house…. and instead I ate a bunch of food, took a sitting-up nap where I drooled on myself, and took pictures of Aslan Kitty.

Aslan Kitty is what I have named the big cat that has slowly made the entire neighborhood his territory. He lives down the street, but has marked every yard as his own. He made three separate trips into our yard today (that I know of) and did battle with some dry leaves and a piece of trash blowing around. (He is very fierce.) It’s a good thing that he’s not my cat, because I would totally shave him so he looked like a lion.

Wait – maybe I wouldn’t. I just googled images of ‘cat shaved to look like a lion’ and the pictures I saw were just sad. You can keep your fur, Aslan Kitty. Pity and your agile fence-climbing skilz have saved you.

Unfortunately, I forgot to move it back.

One of my jobs when I first get to work is to go out to the playground to unlock the bike shed, the ball shed and the gate. I actually enjoy these quiet minutes. In the summer the birds are usually chirping, and in the winter it’s dark and cold and peaceful.

(Emphasis on ‘dark’.)

Well, guess what happened today at 6:45 a.m. when I walked out to unlock the shed in total darkness? Yep. I fell over that bench. Ouch ouch ouch. I didn’t just trip, it was a long, involved fall where my knees pushed the whole thing over backwards, then I fell over it, wondering, “Is that the sound of steering wheels? What the? Oh. Rats.”

Poor knees – they’ll never recover.

I just got started – mostly so I wouldn’t feel like such a sloth during my third hour of Storage Wars – and only put away the non-bulb ornaments and candy canes. Yes, I save the candy canes from year-to-year. I don’t like them, and Lloyd doesn’t seem to notice if they are new or five years old. The lights and bulb ornaments will stay on until Epiphany, but I would still like this momentous event to show on the record.

You’re keeping the record, right?

The garbage disposal is broken. Do us a favor and please stop rinsing food down there because it is a real drag digging it back out. (Thank you, Lloyd, for putting the strainer there.)

Also, the squirrels seem to be eating your trees. At least, that’s what the internet says is going on. (Does anyone else know why the bark is getting stripped?)

You might want to call a tree guy about that. Also, maybe the tree guy could get the broken branch down that is threatening to fall and injure a neighbor.

Also, it is Monday. Don’t forget to go to work today.

Love,
Lauren