Hmmm...would ya look at that...

Ok, so I kinda sorta forgot about this blog until I clicked on the blogger link by mistake and it took me to my list of blogs. It's been about 2 years since I posted last, but somehow I have over 19,000 views. Sure. Anyway, maybe I'll revive this thing. Maybe...

I've been a little busy for the past 6 months...Meet Kedrick

Brand-spankin new! 

Just a few weeks old!

Today! Nearly 6 months old now!

Misophonia

I didn't know that the misery I have endured for as long as I can remember, not
only has a name, but isn't as uncommon as it seemed at first. When Kelly Ripa
mentioned Misophonia on her show, I was curious. Not having insurance, I've been
left to research on my own without real medical advice and though I don't have
an official diagnosis, I am quite certain that I am a sufferer of Miso/4S.

Inside Henryville Elementary School

Still heartbreaking


Slideshow

Apathy

Wikipedia define Apathy as "a state of indifference, or the suppression of emotions such as concern, excitement, motivation and passion. An apathetic individual has an absence of interest in or concern about emotional, social, spiritual, philosophical and/or physical life. But contrary to this, an apathetic individual may take interest in emotional, social, spiritual, philosophical and/or physical life's attributes. Not necessarily to end that apathy but in order to find a deeper meaning to the existential meaning of being, part of which necessitates apathy, for we are by definition 'without meaning'."


A very dear friend of mine is busting her booty to do all she can to help out with the tornado recovery and this morning, she was very upset by the lack of effort and even lack of interest from so many who are fully capable of helping in some way. I don't really understand how anyone can sit by and just watch the suffering of others and not do anything. I can't really say that I was specifically "raised" to help others, but I know that I must have had this belief ingrained into my personality somewhere along the way. And it's etched so deeply in who I am, that I really can NOT comprehend not taking action. 


I've seen hundreds, perhaps thousands, of interactions between volunteers and people inquiring about donations and it just sickens me that there are still some who don't feel compelled to do their part. And then there are some who have been told that they are not needed and would just be "in the way". 


My friends family was directly affected by the destruction and she has been working very hard to help clear debris and salvage what can be saved. Even if you don't know someone who was displaced from their home, how can you just do nothing at all when an entire community close to you has been devastated? 


It's only 20 miles from where my son lives, to my mothers home. It's only 10 from son's to my niece's. Everyone that I know who is still living "back home" is within that range of distance. People are going hundreds of miles to help out and yet, there are far too many who are in neighboring communities who seem to be going out of their way to ignore the problem. 

The day my heart stopped for 2.5 hours

At 3:00pm (CST) on Friday, March 2nd, I received the most horrifying news that no mother ever wants to hear. My son’s high school was wiped out by a tornado and I was 200 miles away. It was hours before more information came rolling in as I waited, with my heart in my throat, for word from my son. It was the longest hours of my life. I had no idea if he was AT school, at a friends, or lying in a ditch somewhere dead or dying. 

Friends from all over Southern Indiana (and across the country) were reassuring me that he was fine, but nothing they could possibly say would soothe my heart until I heard from him myself. It wasn't until 5:37pm that I finally got a message from him via a friends Facebook profile saying "I'm okay, mum." Then later he was able to text me more details, but I'm still waiting for a full account of the day. 

I must say that my son is a real trooper. I heard from a former girlfriend of his, that he was calming her on the bus when she was having a major anxiety attack. Once he was safe and starting to relax a little, he realized that his trumpet was in the wreckage that was once his high school. I'm still waiting to hear how exactly he found out that his trumpet was ok, but he did tell me it was. I know this sounds like the silliest of concerns, but as a Junior in high school, he is working very diligently toward earning scholarships and that is his main instrument. If your potential college education was dependent on something you thought you'd lost in a tornado, it would seem like a HUGE deal to you! 

Some heart wrenching first-hand accounts

I love TheBloggess, but I love Nathan Fillion even more...REBLOG

This is a REBLOG! This is NOT ME!

UPDATED X 2: YOU’RE RUINING NATHAN FILLION FOR ME, NATHAN FILLION. Alternate title: But I forgive you.:

Conversation with my friend, Maile…

me: Sooo…Nathan Fillion is making me doubt my own existence.

Maile: Um…what?

me: I’ve been asking him for a picture of himself holding twine for almost a year now, and he refuses to acknowledge me or the thousands of other people asking for twine pictures.

Maile: Why exactly are thousands of people asking him for twine pictures?

me: It’s sort of a long story. A year ago I asked everyone on the internet to send me 11 cents so I could buy a taxidermied pig dressed as Scarlett O’Hara, but then the pig deal fell through and so I decided to offer the $402 I raised to Nathan Fillion if he’d send me a picture of himself holding twine.

Maile: Yeah. This is really just raising more questions than it’s answering.

me: Right. Well, I already had my Wil-Wheaton-Collating-Paper page which Wil lovingly donated so that he could help me rid the internet of the scourge of unsolicited blog pitches…

Maile: I love that page.

me: EVERYONE loves that page. That page is why Wil Wheaton will be welcomed into heaven even if he starts murdering baby kittens for fun. And I thought it would be nice to have a Nathan Fillion-Holding-Twine picture as a bookend page to deter PR people who continue to send you the same pitch every 12 hours even though you keep asking them to remove you from their lists.

Maile: Got it. So you were doing this for America?

me: I WAS DOING THIS FOR THE WORLD. Then 6 months ago I went to his hometown and tried to extend an olive branch but then he ditched me at the pizza place we were supposed to meet at.

Maile: He actually said he’d meet you?

me: I tweeted him that he should say nothing if he was planning on coming. He said nothing. I thought it was implied. Then I may have posted some artfully nude pictures of him (superimposed with twine) but they were all very flattering. And then I accidentally started a rumor that Little Wayne died, but I cleared that right up because I’m responsible. Unlike Nathan Fillion, who can’t be bothered to show up where he’s implicitly promised to eat pizza with me.

Maile: Wow. I don’t…even know how to respond to that. Sounds like ol’ Nater-Tater is afraid of commitment.

me: Exactly. Plus? That’s the best nickname in the world. I’m stealing that.

Maile: It belongs to the world.

me: JUST LIKE THE NON-EXISTENT PICTURE OF NATER-TATER HOLDING TWINE. So anyway, last week I got sad that Nater-Tater was still refusing to acknowledge my existence so I asked Simon Pegg for a picture of him holding twine.

Maile: Who?

me: I will cut you.

Maile: I’m not good with names.

me: He’s the star of Shaun of the Dead.

Maile: OH! I LOVE HIM.

me: We all love him. He’s Simon Pegg. But I needed to get his attention so I asked everyone to tweet “simonpeggholdingtwine” and it became a twitter trend WORLDWIDE for like eight and a half minutes.

True story, y'all.

Maile: That’s awesome. And…bizarre.

me: It gets weirder, because then SIMON PEGG TOTALLY SENT ME A PICTURE OF HIMSELF HOLDING TWINE. Except that all you could see was his hand holding twine and it wasn’t really proper twine, but still…the man tried. And then the internet rejoiced and Simon was named a God amongst men, but I still wondered why Nathan wouldn’t respond. And then this weekend I just gave up and said “@NathanFillion, should I just give up on my dream of you ever holding twine? Let a girl down gently.” And he said he was very sorry for disappointing his #1 super-fan.

Maile: Really?

me: No, of course not. He completely ignored me again. I mean, how hard is it to say “I’m allergic to twine,” or “I appreciate ignoring your pain.”

Maile: Maybe he’s just playing hard to get. Or maybe he just uses his twitter pictures for important things.

me: Yeah. Like when he put up that series of pictures showing how his rash was spreading. And once? He posted a picture of a fake dead cat with ketchup all over it.

Maile: You’re joking.

me: I’M NOT JOKING. THAT’S THE SAD, TERRIBLE TRUTH OF NATHAN FILLION. Then a few weeks ago one of my readers met him and asked why he wouldn’t do it and he said “Oh, I don’t do stuff like that.” And by “stuff like that” I assume he means “Anything awesome that makes people smile“. Which makes me sad for Nater-Tater. And sad for the world.

Maile: So what happened to the money you were going to spend on Nathan Fillion?

me: I used part of it to take a 50 year old cuban alligator dressed as a pirate on a plane ride. And the rest went to helping orphans.

Maile: Hmm.

me: Orphan cats really. But still.

Maile: You know, maybe this is less about Nater-Tater’s inability to hold twine and more about his super-human ability to ignore people.

me: Like that’s his super power? You know, that would actually make sense because HE’S SO GOOD AT IT. I mean, the man is dedicated. I’ll give him that.

Maile: Ignoring you is his super-power. And twine is his kryptonite. And I think we just solved Nathan Fillion.

me: Yes, but understanding Nater-Tater doesn’t get me a twine picture to use to battle evil form letters. Unless…

Maile: Yes. I like where this is heading.

me: What if I just recognize the fact that Nathan Fillion has a damn passion for ignoring people and – instead of using a picture of him holding twine to ward off marketers – I USE NATER-TATER HIMSELF. From now on, whenever I get a particularly harassing marketer who won’t take me off the list I’ll just tell them that they need to check with Nater-Tater because he approves all of my reviews. Then I get rid of the marketers and he gets to ignore me, plus TONS of new people. EVERYBODY WINS.

Maile: Oh. My. God. He is going to love you.

me: Not just me. EVERYONE. Got a telemarketer that won’t leave you alone? Tell them to call Nathan Fillion. Creepy neighbor won’t stop asking you to look at his suspicious back moles? Tell him he needs to ask Nathan Fillion first. Bill collector won’t stop calling? Tell them that Nater-Tater handles all of your finances. THIS COULD CHANGE LIVES.

Maile: Or really annoy Nathan Fillion.

me: Who, Nater-Tater? No way. If anything he’ll probably want to thank me.

Maile: With a picture of twine.

me: That man owes me.

PS. A special note to Nathan Fillion: As always, I adore you. It’s almost like you planned this on purpose. In fact, I suspect you did and that’s why I would like to thank you, Nater-Tater, for being the kind of man who forces me think so much larger than a simple twine shot. One tiny twine picture might have brought light and laughter to thousands of people for a few days, but this could bring me joy FOR YEARS.

PPS. Here is the fabulous picture of Simon Pegg holding twine, because I think it’s selfish to not share this with the rest of the world:

The man is a damn saint.

PPPS. Phrases now a permanent part of the bloggess lexicon:

Pulling a Nathan Fillion: Someone who refuses to play along with – or even acknowledge – your twine-based games. May cause you to doubt your own existence.

Being a Wil Wheaton: Like being an Eagle Scout of awesome. Surfing the cusp of weirdness in search of maidens to rescue. Except that I think “maidens” implies “virgins”. So change “maidens” to “unseemly wenches with hearts of gold”.

Throwing a Simon Pegg: Being an excellent sport even when completely baffled, because there’s simply no reason not to do something random and silly to bring joy into the lives of others.

Becoming a bloggess: Tenaciously taking a joke way too far for the sake of sheer ridiculousness. Might be considered dangerous. Approach with caution and a booze slushee.

UPDATED, day 2: I have given up on Nathan Fillion ever giving us a picture holding twine, but something happened a few minutes ago which gave me both hope and closure on this whole tumultuous year of vaguely pathetic begging…

Penn Jillette just sent us a picture of himself holding twine to help heal our pain. Unsolicited. With nothing asked for in return. Just a picture of himself holding (PROBABLY MAGICAL) twine simply to brighten our day with furious joy.

He makes it look so easy, doesn't he?

We all owe Penn Jillette a drink. Just lemonade though because the man never drinks booze. Conclusion: Penn Jillette is better than tacos and is saving us all money. Follow that man.

UPDATE #3: Is this the longest, most convoluted post ever? Probably. But it’s worth it because we’re almost done forever. So in the latest turn, the always awesome Simon Pegg has asked that we leave Nathan Fillion alone because it’s starting to get a bit insane even for us. I agree and I have apologized to Nater-Tater for bothering him and I have assured him that I will never ask him for twiney pictures again. Unless I’m really, really drunk. But then I felt a bit dejected and so I told everyone that instead we should really just concentrate on more important things, like helping homeless kids. And getting Jeri Ryan to hold a spatula. Then I immediately said I was just kidding about Jeri because I was really sort of ready for this to all be over and I didn’t have the strength to go into another year of asking one of my internet heroes for a picture of them doing something random for the sake of pure silliness.

And then something magical happened…

Jeri L. Ryan ~ Practically a gooddess.

And she wasn’t alone. Hundreds of people started sharing pictures of themselves standing randomly with their spatulas, and in a matter of minutes I was flooded such awesomeness I may have gotten a little teary. Also, Wil showed up again (with murderous spatula), proving that awesomeness is not just a fluke. (Also, almost $500 was raised for overnight bags for homeless kids in under an hour because you’re all amazing.) And then the spell was broken and my appetite for random pictures was sated, and Neil Patrick Harris probably drew a great sigh of relief because I bet he knew in his heart that he would have been next.

This is the point where I would say something witty to wrap this whole thing up but I don’t feel witty. I feel grateful. Thank you to every single one of you, for listening, for not taking me seriously, for taking me just seriously enough, and for coming along on this ridiculous, furiously happy voyage with me.

Seriously. Thank you.

Non-Extreme Couponing

Everyone is doing it! Some of us have been cutting coupons forever, but now, it seems to have become a rising trend. So instead of re-writing what so many others have already written, I've gathered my favorite resources and posted them for your viewing pleasure...

DIY: Storage Cube Box

Some time ago, I got it into my head that I would start selling stuff on eBay and Etsy. So I ordered a bunch of Large Flat Rate shipping boxes from the post office. They were free, so why not. Then I remembered that I am too lazy to sell anything on eBay or Etsy! So now I have three cases of boxes that I really needed to find something to do with. The large boxes are 12x12x5.5 and not really large enough on their own to make good storage cubes...BUT, when you fit two together, they are perfect! So I decided to share my fabulous (and easy) storage solution with you. (Don't you feel special?)

Solitude and Mourning

It's been one very long week and I feel like I've lived it in a prison cell. I don't feel like I can talk about what happened to very many people and the ones who I can, I feel like I'm just bringing them down when I do. So I'm letting it all out here. No one really reads this blog anyway.


I don't want sympathy or a big pity party. I do know that it will get better, but in the meantime, I'm just so exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. 
I can only hear "I am sorry" so many times before it stops meaning anything. I know I didn't do anything to cause this and there was nothing that I could have done differently to prevent it, but I still feel like I've failed. 


I've read dozens of blogs and articles that tell me that what I'm going thru is perfectly normal, but that's hardly a consolation. Two of the only three people in the world that I want to be near right now are 200 miles away and the other is just ten years old and I really don't think it's right to burden him with my sorrows. 


I spend my days crying in hopes that by the time my little guy gets home from school, I've cried it all out for the day and he won't see me upset. 


I can't talk to my partner. He says he's worried about me and that if I need anything, to just ask. But there is nothing anyone else can do to make this pain go away. I know he is probably grieving in his own way, but I really do feel like I'm in this all alone and I hate that feeling. 


I don't know what else to do but to put my fears and emotions into words. 
Friends keep telling me that I already have two awesome kids who love me very much and as true as that is, it really doesn't keep me from thinking "yeah, and I could have had THREE amazing kids" if this hadn't happened. Is that selfish of me? It's as if my body broke a promise to me. Does that make any sense at all?


My boys don't know what to say to comfort me and bless their sweet hearts, they do try. I know they were looking forward to a new baby as much as I was. It took me awhile to get over the shock, but I really was finally happy about being pregnant. 


As it turns out, even when I took the pregnancy test, the baby had already stopped growing. I feel like an idiot for not finding a way to get to a doctor BEFORE I said anything to anyone and before I got my hopes up. Perhaps if I had, I wouldn't have gotten my heart prepared for a new baby. 


I keep telling myself that I could try again. But I don't think I could go thru this miscarriage hell again. I know it's not a sure thing that I would, but it's not a sure thing that I wouldn't. And I wasn't really prepared or planning on this pregnancy in the first place. Deep down, I have to wonder if my uncertainty was the root of the loss. Or maybe I just didn't cut down on smoking fast enough. Maybe it's my weight or my age. But since I can't be certain of the factors that caused this, how do I know if I'd be setting myself up for more heartbreak if I DID try again. If someone could say "THIS is what went wrong" and I could do something about the "THIS" perhaps I could muster up the courage to face considering another attempt. 


Then again, perhaps it was all the emotional stress I was put under. My paternal grandmother basically condemned my soul for not having given my children a "legitimate" name. She doesn't even KNOW me and yet somehow, she feels she has a right to judge my life. In my entire life, I've spent a total of less than two weeks in her presence. She blames my mother for not letting her be part of my life, but I've legally been an adult for more than 20 years now and where was she during THOSE years? Emails flew back and fourth for several days before I finally told her that I refused to put up with her verbal abuse and unless she apologized, I would never speak to her again. She did apologize, but stated she hadn't any idea what she was apologizing for. I do not consider that to be valid. 


Almost a year ago, my maternal grandmother passed away. I think back on the days when I told her about the anticipated arrivals of each of my two boys and how she gave me her typical "WHAT?" in that voice that only Grandma could do. But she NEVER judged me. She loved me regardless of whatever choices I made in life even if she didn't approve of them. She kept it to herself. And this was a woman who never failed to let you know what she thought of something. She and I had our differences over the years, but never once did she reject me or condemn me. I miss her. 


I miss my mom terribly too. She's still alive, but I wonder how long she will keep going. Her health is terrible most days and I sometimes think she only keeps going because she knows how utterly devastated I would (will) be when she dies. She's my best friend in the world. I'd give anything at the moment to be able to just curl up next to her and cry. 


I don't WANT to be sad. I don't want to spend my days crying and my nights just trying to sleep. This can't last forever. I know it can't. I've had hardships and sorrows many times in the past and honestly, have probably forgotten most of them. But I live in the here and now and right now, the here and now BLOWS! 

Sadness

On December 19, I took a home pregnancy test. On January 19, I miscarried.
Sometimes, I am overwhelmed with sadness. It hits me suddenly and for no apparent reason. For the most part, I'm a very logical person and I know that there was nothing I could have done differently. But I think I had finally gotten past the shock and had started looking forward to having a new baby.
I have the two most amazing boys already and I never go a day without recognizing how lucky I am that they are so wonderful.
Physically, I'm weak. Emotionally, completely broken. So why do I feel like I SHOULD be stronger in both aspects? I know I need time to heal. I realize this isn't easy for anyone. But I also feel like I've cried myself empty. And then without prompting, it starts again.

Don’t Call Me Crazy

Don’t Call Me Crazy:
from Curvy Girl Guide by Amber

On the back of an appointment card he scrawled a name and number in black ink. “Call and make an appointment,” he said. “I could write you a fourth prescription, but I think you need to see a specialist. Do it soon. Don’t wait.” He placed the card in my hand and left the room.

I thought about dropping the card into the waste bin on my way out, but instead shoved it into the cup holder of my car where it was partially submerged in tea from a forgotten fast food cup gone soggy and I liked that. I watched the moisture creep up the length of paper, causing the ink to bleed and blur. How dare he imply that I was beyond his help. I would show him.

I left it there for a week, but I didn’t once forget it. There were days in that week where I couldn’t get out of bed, where the window shades stayed drawn, where my children pounded at my bedroom door.

“Why does mommy nap so much, daddy?”

“Mommy is tired. Let her rest. She’ll come out later,” he told them. More often than not I made a liar of him, but he said it all the same. That week was not unlike the dozens that preceded it — the hopelessness, the pain, the despair — all without reason. It was this absence of a cause exactly that had immobilized me for what I am now willing to admit was years.

Say I was to dial the number on that card, that I made an appointment, that I showed up. Say I told this person, this psychiatrist, that I was in agony, that the first unbearable thing in a string of unbearable things each day was the fact that I woke that morning. Say I shared with this stranger the anguish that was simply existing for me. What if, after listening to every word it pained me to give voice to, they asked the question I had been asking myself for months and months now?

Why? Why do you feel this way? It was a question they would have every right to ask because surely someone in such devastating emotional pain must have suffered a loss, a life-altering event, some personal tragedy. I feared that question. I had no answer, no reason to give. How could I complain of this crushing sadness and then simply shrug my shoulders when asked about the cause?

Still, that card sat in my cup holder, an avenue unexplored. I couldn’t very well give up and make the honest claim that I had left no stone unturned before doing so while that card existed and I desperately wanted to give up. In the end, I called the number. I made the appointment and I said the words to her. It was all much easier than I imagined. They practically burst from me.

When I finally fell silent, I braced myself, but that question never came. She asked many, of course, but not once did she demand a justification. Then she did something that has made every day since that one bearable. She gave this thing — this mountain of melancholy — a name.

Suddenly, I knew what I was fighting against. It was a real thing. It was a condition that others suffered from even and, most importantly, it was treatable.

Alone in my car later, I googled the word she spoke to me in her office, and I cried as I read what could have been the character description in a book about my life. I swallowed the first pill of my new prescription that night feeling hopeful — an emotion I thought I was incapable of.

I am bipolar. I am not crazy. I am not broken. I’m also not ashamed of it. I will probably have to take medication for the rest of my life, but doing so has made it a life worth living.

Related Articles:

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When it comes to my weight, I call fuzzy math.

Chocolate Covered Cherry Cookies

From the genius that is

The Funky Foodgasm

Chocolate Covered Cherry Cookies: Ingredients
1 (10 ounce) jar maraschino cherries
1/2 cup butter, softened
1 cup white sugar
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 egg
1 teaspoon almond extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
3 (1 ounce) squares bittersweet chocolate, chopped
1/4 cup sweetened condensed milk

Directions
Preheat an oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
Drain the cherries and reserve about 2 tablespoons of the juice. Cut the cherries in half if large, and set aside.
Beat the softened butter, sugar, and baking powder with an electric mixer until thoroughly creamed and fluffy, about 1 minute. Beat in the egg and almond extract, then add the flour gradually, and beat just until blended. Pinch off pieces of dough, roll into 1-inch balls, place the balls on an ungreased baking sheet, and press your thumb in the center of each cookie to make a dent. Place a cherry or cherry half in the indentation of each cookie.
In a small saucepan over low heat, melt the chocolate with the condensed milk, and stir until smooth. Add 1 to 2 tablespoons of reserved cherry juice to the mixture, or as needed, to thin the frosting; frosting will be thick. Spoon about 1/2 teaspoon of frosting over each cherry, covering the cherry completely.
Bake the cookies in the preheated oven until firm and slightly browned, about 12 minutes. Let cool on the baking sheet for about 1 minute before removing, then move to a wire rack to finish cooling.

Remake Photo Project

Who doesn't love a good art history parody for a good laugh!

Remake Photo Project:

Ohhh how I wish I would have seen this before the deadline passed... Oh well, it's still fun to look at. Here are some samples from Booooooom's Remake Project, that challenged young students from the UK to re-invent classic works of art through photography and win up to £10,000!

Kids Science: How to Build A Huge iPhone Display On The Cheap

Kids Science: How to Build A Huge iPhone Display On The Cheap:

I love my iPhone, but I always felt that the 3.5 inch screen was a bit to small. Luckily, Instructabes user iamaledgend came up with a clever way to project the iPhone screen onto a wall.

It takes very little to make this happen. All you need is a box of Nikes, some spare Lego parts for mounting and fixing the iPhone and a cheapo magnifiying glass as the projectors' lens.

read more

via CRAFT...........How-To: Popsicle Stick Cobra Weave For Giant Chain Reaction

How-To: Popsicle Stick Cobra Weave For Giant Chain Reaction:

I've always been fascinated with large-scale domino chain reaction set ups, but hadn't seen this take, using popsicle sticks, before. When Think Geek tweeted this massive 1,000 stick chain reaction, I was delighted and baffled. I did a little digging around to find out exactly how this popsicle stick chain reaction works, and this video from jayauldenparnell was the best, clearest tutorial I found. He shows you how to weave the sticks together and even how to "program" in places where you want the giant snake of sticks to turn. It looks like it could be a tedious project, but one that moves quickly once you get the rhythm down. It would be a perfect rainy day or cold winter day activity for kids. Just make sure they know before they start that they are on clean up duty afterwords.

Unitasker Wednesday: Rice Cube

borrowed from Unitasker Wednesday: Rice Cube:

All Unitasker Wednesday posts are jokes — we don’t want you to buy these items, we want you to laugh at their ridiculousness. Enjoy!

One of the cool things about making sushi rolls is that the method you use allows you to make numerous pieces of sushi at once. You get six pieces from just one roll. You set down a mat (and this step is even optional), put dried seaweed and rice on it, add your fillings, roll it all up, and then slice the tube into six pieces. [How to.]

When using really good sushi rice, you don’t have to use a mat or seaweed. All you need are your hands to make the sushi into any shape you desire. If you want your sushi to look like something other than a circle, just mold it. A rabbit! An hourglass! A snake! A cube …

… which brings us to today’s unitasker, the Rice Cube:

Seeing as all you have to do is use your hands to form a cube of sushi, I’m not sure why you would need this special rice-constriction device. It only makes one piece of sushi at a time (as opposed to six), and it does exactly what your hands can do (the exact hands you have to use to operate the device). If you’re obsessed with being exact and having all of your cubes look identical, a clean ruler pressed against the sides of a sushi roll before cutting does the exact same thing. And, you likely already own a ruler. (Be sure to use a very sharp knife with a wet blade so your cubes don’t smash down as you apply pressure to slice.)

After years of writing about unitaskers, I’m finding that most kitchen unitaskers aren’t about saving time, but rather about replacing basic skills. In this case, watching a free, eight-minute video on how to make sushi rolls could save you the $25 you might spend on this device.

Thanks go to Jessica for sharing this unitasker with us.

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Has it ALL been done before???

"There are no new ideas. There are only new ways of making them felt." ~ Audre Lorde

As a self-proclaimed movie buff, I really hate to see classics remade. Even worse, I hate to see a crappy movie redone! For years now, my kids and I have a running joke of adding "IN 3D!!!" at the end of cheesy looking movie previews. Unfortunately, it's not funny anymore because the film industry has decided that EVERYTHING needs to be in 3D these days. 


So is it true? HAS it all been done before? Are there no new ideas? If this is true, then what is the point of continued existence? 


Last night, my Girl Scouts were given the task of working together to create a "SitCom" skit. I guided them thru it, but only the mechanics, they had to do the creative work. I made some suggestions, but ultimately, THEY had to do the writing. Their skit turned out to be about three sisters who lived on an island and each had some sort of problem that the others helped them with. Was is brilliant? No, of course not! But did they work together to come up with something original that conveyed a message of teamwork? YES, THEY DID! 


So if three nine-year old girls can come up with something new, why can't the entertainment industry? I will NOT be giving George Lucas any more of my money to see a movie redone in 3D that was crap the first time around! I know he can't be all tapped out of new ideas, so why is he recycling garbage! 


Ok, I will put the soapbox away for now.

The biggest challenge of all...

Sticking out your tongue always helps

This past weekend of camping was a lot of fun, chilly, but fun. The night time temps dropped below 40 and the daytime breeze was on the icy side. 
Our District Council hosts an event called "Webelos Outdoor Challenge" at which boys who are Webelos ranked Cub Scouts get to join a Boy Scout Troop for the weekend and see how things are different between Cub and Boy Scout programs. They also are taught a few skills and then compete against other troops. 


My scouts troop learned basic first aid and how to construct a primitive shelter with a tarp and ropes. They all did an excellent job and worked hard. The troop also came up with a skit and performed it at the campfire on Saturday night. They didn't come in first place, but then again, they didn't come in last either. 


We went around and visited all of the troops who were there so that the Webelos could get a feel for what the troops do and what their focus is. It's a good thing we have two years to make a choice, because there are a LOT of really great troops in our district.


So what, you may ask, was the "biggest challenge"...keeping that shirt clean!!! Whose brilliant idea was it to put 100 boys in WHITE for a camping weekend!!!

How-To: Spiced Chai Concentrate

How-To: Spiced Chai Concentrate:

As fall settles in, I find myself moving from fruity drinks to spicy drinks. Chai is a favorite of mine, but buying it on a daily basis can get expensive. Making a concentrate at home that I can mix and drink as I please is very appealing to me. Get a recipe for making your own over on A Wooden Nest. [via Jessica Okui on Pinterest]