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Heat-Seeking Varmint

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When I woke up this morning, it was kind of cold in the front rooms of the house. That is because this rotten beast was plugging up the main heat vent between the kitchen and dining room.

While it’s annoying as hell, I do kind of sympathise with the little brute. When I was a kid, my folks heated their house with a woodburning stove, so there were select places in the house that were pleasant to occupy during the winter. Within a 10′ radius of the big stove in the basement was choice. The corner between the chimney and the kitchen wall in the living room upstairs was nice, too, because you had all the south light from the row of old schoolhouse windows that formed the main feature of our front room, plus you had the nice, warm chimney to lean up against. That was one of my principal wintertime reading hangout spots when I was a kid. To this day, whenever I re-read The Wind In The Willows or The Secret Garden, I lament the lack of a warm chimney to lean against.

My other little hideout was on top of the deep-freezer in the basement. If I curled my toes over the lid, I’d catch a draft of warm air coming up off the compressor, and if Mom was running a load of laundry, I could point the dryer vent hose at myself and bask in the warm, damp, Downy-scented dryer exhaust.

So yes, I completely understand Griswald’s impulse to plug up the furnace register, but I absolutely do not support it. He’s not the only creature in the house who likes to have warm feet!

“I wish the diapers came with poop already on them..”

Said no parent, EVER.

doody diaper

So, of course, I had to make one! Apologies for the doody sloping downhill – I should have pinned it rather than free-hand stitched it in place. Then again, how anal do you really want to get about something that’s only going to be crapped on?

This is the culmination of a project I set for myself, which was to learn how to make decent re-usable diapers. I think this design is going to be pretty nice. You can close it with just one safety pin, or two, if the baby gets wider and needs more room. They’re adjustable, is what I’m saying.

It is interlined with waterproof ripstop nylon to minimize seepage, and being as I was using my thinking brain, I applied the applique to the outside layer of fabric only, so the little turd on the rear won’t be the failure point.

I’ve got a friend with a 6-month-old daughter lined up to give these a try-out, so we shall see if they actually stand up to real world conditions.

Whoop-whoop!

The Infamous DX

the famous DX by Meetzorp
the famous DX, a photo by Meetzorp on Flickr.

The 1.5 litre 1988 Honda Civic DX has enough pickup through the lower range of gears that I can get annoyed at other drivers for being slow on the takeoff.

In fact, it is just sprightly enough that I can combine impatience and enjoyment in almost equal measure. It is a capable freeway car, though acceleration in fifth gear is negligible at best. It is a true overdrive, and if you get bogged down by, say, a lumbering bread truck cutting you off from an on-ramp, you are best to shift down to fourth and get on by as quickly as possible, preferably with a maximum of cathartic swearing.

As promised/threatened

Here is the other horrible dress I rescued out of a trash heap.

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It is in such great condition and it is such an excellent example of the fashion of a very specific point in time (very early 1980s) that I had to keep it. It may be ass ugly. It may be a color that is completely wretched with my complexion. It may be an utterly unspeakable garment. But in all of its awfulness, it manages to be rather spectacular.

This one I have yet to wear in public. I half-assed considered wearing it to Joel’s work holiday do, but I really don’t want to embarrass him in front of his co-workers. At least not because of my dress sense.

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This dress. I own it. I have worn it in public. I found it in an enormous trash heap under a bridge in the West Bottoms.

I think that pretty much says it all.

Oh, not quite. Actually, I have another, worse dress, but in order to spin out this Holidailies thing, you have to wait until tomorrow to see it.

Deal of the decade

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This is a box of Taylor’s of Harrogate Earl Grey Tea. By anybody’s standards, this is a pretty damn good box of tea. I got it at the corner shop for $3, which is seriously a steal.

At The Better Cheddar down on the Plaza, Taylor’s clocks in at $9 for a box of 50 tea bags. Which is still not really a bad buy when you consider that the regular grocery store will charge you nearly $4 for a measly 20 sachets of Twinings.

I intend to become a regular customer of this store in my neighborhood, and hope that I can eventually convince the owner to order in some Lapsang Souchong for me. A lapsang hookup within walking distance would be pretty freakin’ sweet.

Besides being a bargain retailer of fine tea, this little oddball mini-mart happens to have a very good selection of ingredients for Indian cookery. I stumbled on to this knowledge by accident this past summer. I was out running errands and it was wicked hot, so I though I’d just stop in this sketchy-looking convenience store and buy a bottle of soda. Once I was inside, I realized that it was no ordinary convenience store I was shopping in. Because I’m lazy as hell, I’ll crib my Google+ review of the place as follows:

This store is a hidden gem. If you judge by the exterior you could be in danger of writing it off as a dodgy liquor mart, but if you overlook its shabby frontage, enter, and have a look around, you will find an unexpected and well-stocked shop with a concentration on ingredients for Indian cookery. You can buy paneer here, pre-mixed seasonings for various curries, several types of lentils, dried garbanzo beans, poppadums, sesame cookies, and other sub-continental delicacies. If you live in the Downtown area (of KCMO or KCKS) it is well worth a look-in for specialty ingredients.This store also has a broad selection of Midwestern and Latino staples, the expected beer cooler, sodas, candy and chips.

I was in there today to get paneer and poppadoms for our Christmas dinner, and happened to notice the tea while I was browsing the shelves (I was hoping for regular malt-flavored Milo powder). It is so hard to find malted-milk powder that doesn’t also have chocolate flavor in it, and I have been tasting for malt powder in a smoothie for quite some while.

Oh well, our holiday Saag Paneer ought to be very satisfying, and it’s nice to have a handy source for goodies like that.

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Hadn’t realized what was printed on the bag until after I’d finished cleaning the cat-boxes…

Saved By The Bell

Yes, yes, I have fallen down on my Holidailies duties. I’ve got my first heavy-duty cold in about two years and have taken to a hot bath and been coughing up my lungs since last you heard from me.

In fact I am coughing myself stupid as I type, but besides from my rebellious lungs, I feel pretty good now.

I don’t know if it’s fever dreams or what, but I have had some of the weirdest, creepiest gross-out dreams just lately.

I just woke up from one, and I’m going to record it now before my brain mercifully erases it.

I dreamt I was on one of those extreme cooking shows where they make a lamb-brain fritter drizzled with a gastrique of grass. So, suspend disbelief and join me in dream world, where there are domesticated hairy elephants which are about the size of a goat and are covered from end to end in rough chestnut hair, softer than pig bristles, but stiffer than Labrador hair.

The item we were “cooking” was one of these hairy elephant trunks, and due to the host’s plans, it needed to be hollowed out so it could be stuffed. I was tasked with removing the chunkier and more unyielding slabs of cartilage. That sentence alone should give you a pretty good idea of the gross-out level of this dream. Oh, and we didn’t skin the trunk nor remove the hair. The hairiness was meant to be part of the presentation when it was served. (gag) So, then the trunk was stuffed with cheese mostly and baked. And either end of it (the snoot end and the end where it had been severed) looked like a medical illustration of diseased genitalia.

Right before the celebrity chef (whom I didn’t recognise) was about to start slicing it up, my alarm clock went off.

The night before last was no better. I dreamed that I was taking a tour of some sort of cloning lab, where they were making individual organs and stuff for people who need transplants. At first, I was in a rather cool and hope-for-the-future type of dream. Then the office weirdo blessed me with a special viewing of his pet project. It was supposed to be a person, but what it was was a grey, gelatinous dome about the size of a travel thermos with liver-colored, hairy tentacles, a beak like a parrot, and two milky eyes toward the bottom of the dome. It was dead; it had been soaking in formaldehyde in fact, and the weirdo felt that I should be honored to view its dissection. He wanted to slice it open to see how much progress he had made and what he had done wrong.

The gelatin turned out to be very tough, so he ended up cleaving it with a hatchet. The noise it made was the most disgusting thing, kind of a sucking and crunching all at once, as the gelatinous dome turned out to be interlaced with bands of cartilage and little chips of bone, as well as filled with a viscous pink gel. In my dream, I blew chunks. In real life, I woke up and needed to blow my nose.

Going to sleep has been too damn strange lately.

Well, hell. I’m getting that mid-winter hairdo restlessness once again.

Right now, my hair is just about jaw length.

Basically, it is like this, but with bangs, and brown instead of red. This is an old picture, but I can’t be bothered to take a new one, so imagination will have to suffice.

I am severely tempted to revert to my old Sue Perkins hairstyle. I love it short and choppy and shove-back-able.

But on the other hand, I am a little bit tempted to grow it long again, just because I can.


Because it is very, very thick, it does long nicely.


And I can do some really cool shit with it.

But the downside to having it long is that I can put it in a ponytail, and if I can, I probably will. Most of the time.

I’ll tell you this for free. No matter what I’ll never again have my hair this long again!

Ridiculously Long Hair

So, the other day I posted this:
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which the astute among you might recognise as an old Tupperware box full of cookies shaped like pine trees. They are, in fact, a modified version of Neva’s Sugar Cookies, flavored with peppermint essence and run through the Mirro Cookie Press.

Before I continue, I’d like to provide y’all with what I consider an heirloom recipe. When my mom and her brother were little kids, their neighbor down the road used to bake these cookies. Mom remembered these cookies fondly, and as an adult, asked her old neighbor if she could have the recipe for them. It is as follows:

Preheat oven to 375 F.

2 C. Brown Sugar
1 C. Shortening (I use butter)
3 Eggs
1/2 C. Milk
1 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. baking powder
2 tsp. vanilla
5 C. Flour

Cream butter and sugar. Mix in eggs one at a time. Add milk and mix. Add soda & baking powder. Mix. Add vanilla. Add flour one cup at a time. Shape into 1″ balls and flatten with a glass dipped in white sugar. Bake 8-10 minutes.

It works best if you have a vase with a fancy cut-glass bottom to impress a fancy design in the dough.

If you add another 1/2 cup of flour, it makes the perfect consistency to go through the cookie press. If you add an extra cup of flour, instead, it makes great dough for cookie-cutter cookies. If you pursue this method, prepare to make a crap-ton of cut-out cookies. Six cups of flour is no fucking joke is what I’m saying.

Anyway, I made the little pine trees, and lo, they were pretty cute.

Then I took it upon myself to decorate them.

Decorating with icing is not my strong suit.
About a quarter of them look like this. Shitty. This is why I never do iced-and-decorated cookies. Because I am completely incompetent.

Luckily, I started getting my groove after a pan of completely messy and awful trees, and about 75% of my output ended up looking like this:
Decorating with icing is not my strong suit.
Not beautiful, but at least passable. The first batch look like I iced them with my feet.

Decorating with icing is not my strong suit.
My snowflakes, however, are inexcusable.

I had this idea that I’d be all clever and make these chocolate-orange flavored roll-out cookies, cut them into snowflake shapes, then frost them white and sprinkle sugar on it to look like ice crystals. My recipe for the Royal Icing worked perfectly for the green stuff, but for some reason the white stayed really runny. Also, the website I used for reference suggested that a very small amount of blue food color should be added to the plain white icing to make the sugar sprinkles stand out better. I obviously got too much food coloring in it, because these darn snowflakes look more like novelty bathroom tiles.

I considered calling these my “special snowflakes,” not because they included any illicit secret ingredients to make the season more merry, but special in the ‘Oh, don’t mind Cousin JoDean; she’s just a little bit special, bless her heart’ meaning of “special.”

I got a hot idea to try to make snowflake sugar cookies a few years ago, with almost equally rotten results. That time, my icing turned out lumpy, plus the sprinkles that were supposed to go on the icing wouldn’t stick. I had some super-cute sprinkles then: some extra-shiny sugar crystals and some little nonpareil things in the shape of snowflakes. My idea was a beautiful, frosty, glittery, delicate confection of loveliness, but the result was…well short of my hopes and expectations.


As you can see, they were not delicate and frosty. They were kind of lumpy and nondescript. And I should have colored the icing green for the Christmas trees. Like I did this year.

Anyway, I hope that someday I will learn my lesson and stop trying to make pretty holiday treats. Royal Icing is best left to people significantly less ham-fisted than me!

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