Herb Infused Vinegar All-Purpose Spray

My grandmother was alpha-wife.  Every single area of her home was amazingly tidy.  I'm talking 1950's TV show spotless.  Not only that, it seemed effortless!  Compared to her, I fail at cleaning.  I remember her using, and teaching us to use, heavy duty cleaners.  When I unexpectedly (seriously, completely unexpected) became a housewife and started caring for our own home, I used the same kind of cleaners.  You know the kind I mean.  Sprays that give off air-gasping fumes, harsh powders that you shake from a can, liquids that promise to get your home clean but are covered with warnings about calling Poison Control if you get them on your skin.  In the beginning, these were what I used because I didn't know there was anything else.  They had been part of my life since childhood, and honestly, it never even occurred to me that these cleaners were even dangerous.

It all began around the time we received our beloved Corgi from a rescue.  I read (but fully admit that I don't know if it is true) that dogs like the taste of pine and will lick pine-scented cleaners off the floor and drink it wherever they find it.  Did I mention I don't know if this is actually true?  Anyway, I didn't want to test the theory, and switched to nontoxic vinegar/water solution to clean the floor.

Soon after, I gave birth to Little Viking.  Around that time I started to  realize that vinegar can be used to clean lots of things.  Lots and LOTS of things!  Floors, counters, appliances, toilets!  I realized just how toxic "normal" cleaners are, and loved the idea that if they got into vinegar, it wouldn't hurt them.  After that, I branched out to use vinegar sometimes, and Doctor Bronner's other times, but never together. 

I still loved using vinegar, but the smell, oh, the smell!  Yes, yes, I know.  The smell disappears as the vinegar dries, but in the meantime it is pretty awful.  I know some people don't mind it, but it's just such a strong smell.  Then, I ran across a post by Crunchy Betty that suggested infusing vinegar with dried herbs and essential oil.  I thought, "I wonder if fresh herbs in my garden would have the same affect?"  I decided it was worth a try.  I went to the garden and cut leaves and stems of whatever struck my fancy.  If I remember correctly, I grabbed some thyme, oregano, lemon balm, rosemary, a little bit of lavender leaves, and some peppermint, and made myself some awesome all-purpose cleaner.

The result was amazing.  Whatever I cleaned smelled fresh and herbal, with just a hint of vinegar underneath.  The next time I did it, the result was still good, but completely different, since I very literally just threw in whatever herbs caught my eye and added whatever essential oils I liked at the end.  Currently I have yet another version infusing with tangerine peels and mint.

Here is my version of herbed vinegar all-purpose spray using fresh herbs, with a major hat tip to Crunchy Betty.  To see her original recipe that I based mine off of, head over here.

Herb Infused Vinegar All-Purpose Spray

Vinegar infused with...uh...random herbs

 

 

What you'll need:

Handfulls of fresh herbs  (It helps if you use scents that work together.)
A few cups of vinegar
Large jar or container with a lid
Essential oil of a complimentary scent (optional, but nice)

Snip any long leaves and stems so they are shorter.  I tend to crumple the herbs in my hand a little bit to release some of the oils.  Place in the jar and cover with a cup of vinegar or two.  I'll be honest and say sometimes I use a cup of vinegar.  Sometimes two.  Sometimes I use a cup and a half like Crunchy Betty suggests.  What can I say?  I'm inconsistent.  However, it always works out.

Put the lid on the jar and let it sit for about a week.  Shake it once a day or when you remember.  If you let it sit longer than that, don't worry.  It will just have more of an herb smell and the color will be darker.

When you feel it is infused enough. strain out the herbs and add the vinegar to a spray bottle.  Add another cup or so of vinegar (sometimes I do, sometimes I don't.  I'm inconsistent).  Add some complimentary essential oil of your choice.  Go use it.

Hey, Momtionary, where ya been?

I know I said I was going to be back more often, but I kind of...well, things fell apart.  Here's a few things you missed.

~Little Viking starts kindergarten this coming year.  He will have just turned six before the start of school.  We didn't put him in this year because the maturity wasn't there.  However, he does know all his colors/shapes/numbers and all that Kindergarten stuff, in addition to being able to read a little bit and does simple addition and subtraction in his head.  Unfortunately, most of what he's learning right now isn't touched on until 1st grade, so he'll likely be bored out of his skull in Kindergarten.  I should probably apologize to his teacher in advance, although honestly, I don't know that I care to.  I'm still mad about going through a long stretch of dealing with nonsense from Philosopher Child's teachers who were sure there was something wrong with him.  That changed after his IQ was tested and he was found to be...well...ok, he's a genius.  And geniuses, my friends, are always odd ducks.

~The washing machine broke.  We had to go get a new one and ended up buying a model with good reviews that plays music at the end of each cycle.  Did you catch that?  The washing machine freaking sings to me.  Darn right it does.

~I had an epic falling out with a family member that caused a lot of pain.  However, since it wasn't the first time this person has behaved this way towards me, I've decided that with forgiveness and prayer to just let it go.

~I've been journaling like crazy.

~I've been making major efforts to get my headaches and anxiety under control.  I have good days and bad days.

~Husband and I have been gardening like crazy.  We've had a good sized garden for the past 3 growing seasons.  Fortunately, we have a spring growing season AND a fall growing season here.  Currently out there is a huge variety of salad greens, a ton of tomatoes, some peppers, white and brown onions, a few variety of carrots, beets, broccoli, herbs, and...huh.  I know I'm forgetting something.  Anyway, there's a ton of veggies out there.

~I'm on the board of the school PTO, but I won't be staying there next year.  Too much drama and I don't agree with some of their decisions.  Unfortunately, I can't do anything about it other than step down, which I'll be doing.

And that's what I've been up to.

Flylady Thoughts and other things

I've left FlyLady. I'll give you a second to get over your sarcastic gasps. Ready? Good.

"But you said it works when you do it!" you might be thinking. Yes, I did. And it does. See, I've been doing what the FlyLady circle calls "fluttering" for the past few years without really being able to stick with it. But I trusted. Really. I didn't like to wear lace up shoes in the house, but I did. I didn't see a point to going to clean off certain things, but I did. I did all that stuff on and off. But I just couldn't stick with it. Sometimes I felt guilty, sometimes I felt talked down to, sometimes I was offended. Of course, FlyLady NEVER meant for me to take anything she ever said in that way. But that didn't stop me.

I started to really waiver when she said something in an email that took me back a few steps. I waivered a bit more when she announced that the emails are the backbone of her system (waaaay too many emails and mostly about testimonials and products that I don't need). The last straw came when she said something on facebook that really made me go "ALL STOP!"

Don't get me wrong. She's changed a lot of lives. She changed mine. I learned a lot that I'll be carrying with me, like using a timer (seriously, do it), noticing how one clean spot makes you want to clean more, beware of how clutter attracts clutter, and just letting things go. For that, I'll always thank her. But I think it's just not working for me and it's time for me to try something else. Maybe I'll be back. Maybe I won't. Maybe I've learned enough.

Now on to other things! Check out what Husband and I found at our local seafood market:
It's called Golden Crab, a cousin to the King Crabs. It's about $3-4 a pound in our area, and it is delish. And messy. REALLY messy.

So that's what we cooked, now look what we, as a family, built for this year's Pinewood Derby:
Sing it with me now! Doobie-doobie-doo-wah! It's Peeeerry! Perry the Derby Car! If you've got kids of a certain age, the song is now running through your head. You're welcome. But if you don't, this is Perry the Platypus, both pet and secret agent on the Disney show Phineas and Ferb. Don't you want to build one now? Come on. You know you do.

Speaking of off to other things, I believe I hear two baskets full of clean laundry that need to be folded calling me.

January 1st, 2012

Some resolutions that I will try (mwah haha!) to keep:

-Reach for some herbal tea, yoga, and meditation before/instead of reaching for the ibuprofen.
-Let my kids get dirty more often and look at little irritations (dumping out toys, running through the house, etc.) as just kids being kids. No biggie.
-Be on time in the morning so I don't have to yell, "Let's go! We're late!" at the kids.
-Meditate (the relaxation kind) at least twice a week.
-Lose 20 pounds. Well, at least 15.
-Get back to daily Bible reading. (Didn't know I was religious? Surprise. I am.)
-Flylady, Flylady, Flylady. I'm actually thinking about adding a new section, Fridays with Flylady to the blog. Thoughts?

New Year's resolutions are funny things, aren't they? We get two simultaneous messages.

1. New Year's resolutions are traditional, so you must make them!
2. But no one ever keeps them, so don't try!

I'm going to try to keep these. Really. I think I'm going to post them somewhere in my house.

In 2012, what are you going to really, really try to do?

It's happened

It's finally happened. I've started to say it. The dreaded, "When I was your age..."

I used it today. And not in a very nice way. I just wanted the kids to *help* pick up the mess they made. That's all. Just *help*. But they wouldn't. And then it happened. In my angry mom voice, I said, "When I was Little Viking's age, I had to clean my entire room by myself! By the time I was eleven, my mom made us clean the whole house every day, including moving furniture, and our house had three stories! SOMEONE TELL ME WHY ASKING YOU TO PICK UP A FEW BLOCKS IS A BIG DEAL?????"

And honestly, I don't feel great about my mom tantrum. It was not the most mature thing I've ever done. And, in case you are wondering if all the things I said to my kids about my childhood are true, then yes, they are. Mostly. I might have exaggerated some of it a little bit. We only cleaned the main level of the house, plus the couple of flights of stairs. But we did have to move the furniture.

Dosaster Part II

Part I

Dosaster: noun. A domestic disaster.

For those of you who have been with me for a while, you may remember the horrible $700 plumbing disaster. (For you newbies, or those that don't remember, click the link at the top of this post.) Well, we had to call the plumber again. Thankfully, it wasn't an issue of leaky pipes this time, just a clog that we couldn't fix ourselves (easily). We are all about DIY here, snaking pipes and all that jazz, but for this we needed either a professional or a professional (read, ghastly expensive) tool and professional know how. So, with water from the washing machine backing up into the kitchen sink, I called the dreaded plumber.

The plumber we used last time was very impressive, friendly, and with the exception of a small snafu not of his making, timely. Seemed like a good company to call again. Unfortunately, this time around it was not the same guy.

Not even kind of.

Loud, rude, obnoxious, and a bit angry, this plumber did not impress me. At all. It started off with him calling me to ask if he could come 2 hours earlier than his original time. Fine, no problem, I'm here anyway. About 10 minutes after his call, he shows up, and this is where it gets fun.

Point the first: He's a loud talker. I mean, practically yells when he talks, and I can't stand loud noises. But, not necessarily his fault, and I do my best to overlook it.

Point the second: I had been instructed by Husband to approve work of around $100. The estimate the plumber gave was $140 for the job, plus $50 for BioClean which he insisted that we needed if I didn't want to be calling him back in a few months. So, $190 to fix a clog. (On an itemized list from our last plumbing job, the job itself, excluding the service call fee, was $20.)

Point the third: Although the job was going to cost nearly double what we thought, that is hardly his fault. However, since it was more than we thought, I needed to discuss it with Husband first. I told him I was to spend $100, and since this was quite a bit more, I would have to talk to Husband and call him back. Now, here's the part where his company lost our business. The plumber got upset. He didn't like the idea of having to leave to come back. It had been my experience with this company that they give you an estimate, they let you think about it, and you call them back to approve the work. There are even separate parts of the forms for estimate and the actual work. Apparently he didn't want to do it that way. I was getting more than a little uncomfortable, so I told him I would call Husband now and see what I could do. Only, Husband didn't answer his phone, so I had no answer to give. This hardly amused Mr. Plumber. He was not about to just LEAVE.MY.HOUSE. He said he was going outside to call his boss to see what he should do.

Um, what? YOU SHOULD LEAVE, like I told you to. But whatever. I was getting nervous and agitated. Then Husband called to tell me to go ahead and have it done. So I approved the work and he started.

End of story? Hardly.

Point the fourth: Mr. Plumber told me to fill the washing machine. I have an HE front loader (that I hate), so there really is no way to just fill the washer. You have to run a cycle, and the water doesn't go in all at once. As a plumber, I thought he should get that. He didn't. He was a bit annoyed by it.

Point the fifth: He made a comment about how much money he thought Husband made. Awkward, at best.

Point the sixth: He made a comment that he thought Viking Toddler is small for his age. Actually, Viking Toddler is in the 90 percentile for height, meaning that he is taller than 90% of children his age. Mr. Plumber went on to tell me that his boys are huge and are varsity quarterbacks and whatnot, and his 15 year old is 290 pounds, and isn't that just fantastic? Well, unless the child in question is about 6'5", no, although I'm not saying he's not.

Normally, a comment about size doesn't bother me. I've heard many about how tall Viking Toddler is, to the point that some thought he was starting school when he was three-and-a-half. But with everything leading up to that point, I was less than pleased.

Point the seventh: *If* I ever use this company again, it will not be with this particular plumber. I will make sure of that.

A letter to my washing machine

Dear Nearly-New, Front Loading, Expensive Washing Machine,

I've had you for about 3 years now. During that time, your service has been questionable at best. I should have seen problems coming when your brother, Dryer, arrived not being able to dry beyond 30 minutes. At that point, I called in the repair technician, who eyed me skeptically. He didn't appear to believe that Dryer had arrived broken. After a while with his computer in front of Dryer, he finally announced with triumph that it was, in fact, broken. Why do I remind you of this, Washer? Because you came as a set and you are known by the company you keep.

Now, Washer, you and I have had several issues that has nothing to do with Dryer. I'd say the first inkling I had that you are, in fact, a complete idiot, was the day I dared to try to put bleach in the bleach tray while the washer door was open. The bleach ran out and onto the floor. Don't you think you should wait do dispense bleach until you are washing something? Just a thought.

Further, when I tell you I want you to clean something, I'd like it clean. It's to the point that even when I put soiled clothes on a rinse first, and THEN a wash, they are STILL not coming out clean. Let me point out that cleaning is your JOB. I should not have to run clothes through the wash twice in order to get the same results that I saw with my ancient old Washer before it died. Even as it was dying, it did a better job than you.

Here's something else, Washer. I've noticed that every now and then I find small holes in my clothes. No, I don't have moths, so don't give me that nonsense. We both know it's you. I have proof. I looked you up online. I'm not the only one with this problem. Stop it. You've put holes in shirts, pants, and Husband's Great-Great Grandmother's quilt that she made for us. This is unacceptable.

Also, STOP TANGLING THE CLOTHES. This not good for the clothes, my stress level, or your likelihood of continued existence. This is one of the ways things get ripped, or at the very least spend some quality time with Iron. Pant legs should keep to themselves. Sheets should keep to themselves. Stop it NOW.

Now, about the hand wash cycle. I was psyched to see you have one, as I have many handmade articles of clothing. Here's the thing, though. The spin speed for this cycle is low. This causes clothes to come out completely and utterly dripping wet. So wet, they can't go in Dryer. I was glad to see you allow me to manually set the spin speed to high, in order to get clothes that are not dripping wet. This is what that "Spin Speed" control on your face is for. But, even though I tell you I do NOT want sopping wet clothes, you choose to ignore me. This causes me to have to run it through an ADDITIONAL drain and spin cycle. Uncool.

I'd love to leave it there, but here's something else. You are ALWAYS OFF BALANCE! For crying out loud, Washer, if I say, here, wash these towels, what I don't want you to do is use them to cause yourself internal haemorrhaging by allowing your drum to bounce violently around your body. This, also, is unacceptable.

I want to tell you one more thing. You know how I said I have to put the clothes on a rinse before wash to get them clean, and even then it doesn't always (or even usually) work? Your stupid design makes it so I have to physically open the door before I tell you I want you to go from rinse to wash. But you are designed in such a way that the clothes fall forward when I open the door. One time a pair of pants got caught and I didn't notice. You, in your infinite stupidity, decided it was ok to go on your way. That's how you ripped your gasket that cost us over $100 to replace, and that was just for the part.

I won't even discuss the times you didn't spin the water out of the machine.

If this behavior continues, I'll have no choice but the next time you go off balance to just let you beat yourself to death.

Sincerly,

Kristina

P.S.: Dryer, I've noticed that you aren't drying clothes until dry, neither when I use the presets, nor when I manually set the time. You also seem to ignore heat settings sometimes. Low means low, high means high. Your manual says if the clothes come out damp I should just put them away like that, because it's greener or something. You're supposed to be energy saving, but that kind of energy saving in this climate gets you moldy clothes. My eyes are on you, buddy.

Misobject

Misobject: noun. An object that you have no idea where it came from or how it came to be where you found it.

Did you miss me? I missed you! I was called out of town rather suddenly (everything is fine), and haven't had much time to write.

However, something unusual happened upon my return, which was yesterday, in case you were wondering. But again, I ramble.

I planned on making bread today. As I was cleaning off the table, I found a child's slipper. Just one. And although that is not remarkable in and of itself, what is odd is that it is not ours. I don't recognize it even a little bit. It certainly does not belong to my children, and since we have been away for almost 2 weeks, coming back to find it is a bit strange.

I thought, well, some companies send out samples of their wares in hopes that you will buy some. Maybe that's what this is. Unlikely, but not impossible. I asked Husband about it, since he's the one who brought in the mail, but he didn't know what I was talking about.

So here we have one odd mystery slipper.

I have a suspicion of where it came from. I'll have to do some more investigating.

Jellyroll Project

Jellyroll Project: noun. A project that starts as nothing at all, or even from something unrelated, but rolls up to be much bigger than anticipated.

Watching a baseball movie=reseeding the lawn. Did you know that? Me, either.

Husband and the Boys were watching an old movie about Lou Gehrig. This lead the boys to want to go out and play baseball, which Husband took care of while I did the dishes. A short time later, Husband poked his head inside and asked me to keep on eye on the Boys because he was working on something. I went out and found that Husband had pulled up a very roughly 1/3 of the yard. Apparently, being outside with the boys caused him to notice that a great deal of the backyard was nothing but sand and weeds.

So now, the grass seed has been chosen. The section of the yard we are going to reseed first is getting clearer and clearer. And on a class section of our door, written in dry erase marker, is a diagram of the yard with appropriate measurements that only an engineer could love.

Appliphobia Part II

We did the unthinkable today. We bought the dishwasher. I didn't plan it. Husband didn't plan it. It just happened.

Today was a good day. I was in a great mood and got a ton of housework done. Yeah, I know, boring, but keep reading. Husband came home and we all had dinner, then went out to run some errands. While we were out, we stopped by Home Depot in order to look at a couple of models of dishwashers that I had researched and pick up a few plants for the garden.

It turns out that the 2 models I was looking at were, in fact, the same model, but in different colors. And we didn't buy either. The salesman came over to us and pointed out a completely different dishwasher by the same company that was black (hooray! I hate stainless steel), with a stainless steel interior (that's OK. It's on the inside) that retains heat better. Husband fell in love with it. Oooh and on sale, too. OK, all the models were on sale, but stay with me. The salesman could take a hint and vanished while Husband and I discussed. It was the same thing we had looked at except the interior was stainless and the controls were on the front, instead of integrated.

And we bought it. I mean, it had good reviews, nice features, and on sale. And our old one needs serious replacing.

Great, right? Stay with me for a minute. The salesman asked if there had been a new floor put in since the old dishwasher was put in. Read, is the floor the dishwasher on lower than the surrounding floor? Why, yes, it is. The former residents had put in tile, but not where the dishwasher sits. Do you know what that means? DO YOU??? It means, gentle readers, the floor must come up or we will have a heck of a time moving the old out and the new in. There's not room to move it.

I.am.not.kidding.

Now, we know that floor underneath the tile was the same floor as the rest of the house, but what shape would it be in? Husband tested by taking up a tile that I had broken via gravity and a cast iron pan. To his surprise and delight, the tile came right up, and the floor underneath looked passable.

In about half an hour, we had half of the floor up. Tomorrow is the other half. Caffeine, please.

Appliphobia

Appliphobia: noun. The fear of appliance shopping.

Take a little time traveling trip with me to about 4 years ago. Husband and I bought our very first house and moved in with Philosopher Child. Viking Toddler was not around yet. I'm psyched because our house came with a dishwasher and washing machine, and for a small amount we got the dryer, too. The hot water heater was another story. It was a rental sort of deal that the previous owners had, and we could not convince the owning company that we didn't want the thing. We wanted to buy our own. But you know they kept billing us anyway? We, who never had a contract with them for an appliance we didn't want? But as usual, I digress. You've probably picked up by now that I do that. (Oh, by the way, we eventually won and they took the hot water heater back.)

Anyway, about two years in, the washing machine needed replacing, and we saw signs that the dryer wouldn't be far behind, so we bought a set. Front loaders. Pretty. We couldn't find too many reviews at the time, but we were pretty satisfied with what we chose.

And then the dryer arrived. Broken. Had to have a repairman come to fix it. But, ok, things happen, right? Nobody's fault. All fixed, no biggie.

But then we realized some things about the washer. Bad things. Horrible things. First off, do you remember the bleach incident? That's the tip of the iceberg with this out of warranty but still recently new washing machine. It is off balance constantly. It tumbles in a way that pant legs and sheets get all twisted and knotted. And it rips tiny holes in the clothes. That's right. And there's not a single thing we can do about it. We shelled out a pretty penny for that thing, and we are stuck with it for quite some time.

But now, we need a new dishwasher. I'm scared.

Jaws TV

Jaws TV: noun. A show or number of shows that you only thought were safe for your kids to watch. How foolish.

Christmas time is nearing, is it not? It must be, since I'm constantly yelling at Viking Toddler to get away from the Christmas tree and continually setting our wooden nativity upright again after there have been small children near it. And, of course, musing about how much I hate our tree skirt. But that's a little thing in the grand scheme of life. At least we have a house to put a Christmas tree in, and that is truly a blessing.

But I digress. As usual. I'm told that I do that. "Meander" I think is a term that has been applied to my stories by loving family members. *Cough-Younger Sister-cough*

But again, I digress. Anyway, we've been watching A Christmas Story lately. You know, the one with Ralphie and all of the "You'll shoot your eye out," and "Only I didn't say fudge." A perfectly safe family movie. You can now imagine Jaws music.

I was standing in the kitchen when Viking Toddler ran up to me and start to hit my legs with closed fists. I was confused, but told him no hitting and sent him out. Generally, that's all it takes. He went off to play, and a short while later asked to watch A Christmas Story. No problem. I put it on for him, and then everything clicked. At the point when Ralphie is beating the tar out of the neighborhood bully, Viking Toddler again ran up to me and began hitting my lges (the only thing he can reach) with closed fists. Ah ha!

Now we utilize the fast-forward button. Liberally.

Crafty Dare

Crafty Dare: noun. A craft, recipe, or any from scratch project that makes most people cringe.

Yesterday I made a pumpkin pie. From an actual, honest-to-goodness pumpkin, not from a can. I have never done this before. My friends were applying some lovely adjectives to this activity, using words like "brave" and "daring." Hmm...

I'll tell you something. When someone looks at something I'm planning on doing and says, "Wow!" or, "That's brave of you!", or, "I wish I could..." it makes me really wish it works out. Deep down, I really want to know that I am clever enough to figure it out and make it work.

So, about that pie. The one from scratch. It was yummy. :) This the part where you say, "Wow!" and I say, "Aw, it wasn't that hard," and act like it wasn't.

But honestly, it wasn't that hard. Time consuming, sure, but not that hard. I ended up making the pumpkin puree one day, and the pie the next. I did get a little worried when at 40 minutes, when the recipe said the pie would be done, the pie was still mostly raw. I started watching the clock, fidgeting, and thinking about the time when I would have to leave to go get Philosopher Child from school. I checked out the window to see if any of my neighbors were home that could babysit my oven while I was out.

In the end, it worked out. It was finally done after baking for over an hour, and I was able to pick up Philosopher Child on time.

Oh, and this didn't happen this time.

Apronize

Apronize: verb. Working to improve your housekeeping ability.

Housekeeping skills are something I have been learning in my adulthood. Why it has taken almost 10 years into my adulthood to grasp it in its vaguest sense is rather complicated, and I won't dive into it. But if you know me personally, you probably know why.

Here's a guilty secret: I sometimes watch Martha Stewart's show, as much as I don't want to. Sometimes. And only a few minutes at a time. It's something that I hate about myself. Most of the show either bores me or I don't think it really applies to me. But occasionally I get some gleam of interest or tip that I can use. Swirling the icing on cakes to hide my hideously not smooth icing job is one of them. So, every few days for a few minutes, I tune in. And I watch. And I hope for something that's going to help with my underdeveloped housekeepingness, or perhaps my need for craftiness that's not going to cost a ton. (Ooh..."Housekeepingness." Spell check says it's not a word. I'll have to add it to the Mom-tionary.)

Speaking of Martha, apparently she's doing a week long tribute to cupcakes. During one of these select times when I get a few select minutes of watching in, I saw that she made some cupcakes and gave a few ladies in the audience one each. A short time later, she turned to them and asked if they had eaten them. They responded that they had, to which the dear hostess replied, a little surprised, "All of it?"

Do you want to laugh? I do. Being shocked that someone ate a whole cupcake. That's funny.

Dosaster

Dosaster: noun. A domestic disaster.

So...the plumber came today. A very friendly man who certainly seemed to know his business. I explained to him the two problems. Every time I run our washing machine, it backs up into the kitchen sink. And every time I run either the washing machine or dishwasher, water leaks through the wall on the outside of the house.

"They may or may not be related," I stammered. I really hoped that a good snaking out of the pipes would fix the whole thing, despite the laws of physics or common sense.

He had been wearing a smile since he came in, but now his smile changed slightly. It was that sad, sympathetic smile a person gets when they are thinking, "Ma'am, you are not going to like what I am about to tell you."

And I didn't like what he had to tell me. He knew exactly what the problems were and what it took to fix them, but they were, in fact, two separate problems that were unrelated despite them being in the same area.

To fix the washing machine water backing up into the sink: $20. Not bad.

But to fix that leaky pipe, which involves opening up a cinder block wall: $680.

*cough*

Well, it has to be done. And once it is done, I won't have to worry about it.

Whynot Gadget

Whynot Gadget: noun. An item, gadget, or tool that has a function or feature that seems unnecessary or downright silly.

There is no way I couldn't blog about this. No way. It's just too silly.

I recently received some samples of the Gillette Venus Malibu razor. First I must say that it does a pretty decent job. Pretty much done in 1-2 passes. A little expensive at about $9 for a set of three (they are disposables), but decent. Cushioned, pivoting head and three blades. Nice.

And a scented handle.

Hang on. I'll give you a second.

OK, are you with me? Scented handle.

Some of you out there are saying, "Oh, neat!" But if you are like me, whose insanely logical engineer husband has rubbed off on them, you are saying, "Wait, what? What for?"

I just thought a scented handle was kind of silly. Is it going to leave a scent on your skin? No? Then what is it for?

So here's what I picture: Walking in to a room full of people who came up with the idea of the razor and asking them why they made that handle scented. I suspect I'd get one of two answers. One being, "To make it more appealing to women within the demographic of x and y," and the other simply being, "Why not?"

Guest Entry: Men-gineering

After a couple of bad health weeks, I'm back. The worst of it was when Monkey Son #1 got to take his first ambulance ride late at night. But more on that in the next post.

Momma Brenda sent this fabulous word and entry in for the Mom-tionary.

"Men-gineering n.—The engineering attempts by who we can only assume is a team of men in an attempt to improve the operations of gadgets and machines women use every day."

"I know that there are several examples of this but the one that prompted me to post this is my oven. For some reason it is designed to turn off when the timer goes off! Now there is no woman in her right mind who would engineer an oven to do such a goofy thing. I mean how many recipes call for baking for 30 min at 350 covered and remove cover and top w/ cheese and continue to bake for 15 min? Or how about baking cookies?! Who wants to turn the oven back on every time a pan of cookies is done?!"

Thanks, Brenda! We all sympathize, I'm sure! Even Husband thought that was a stupid design, and he is an engineer. Sadly, he doesn't design ovens.

Anybody else out there have any men-gineering mishaps? I know I have.

Neggessive

Neggessive: adjective. Description of a person who is unnecessarily or illogically possessive about something or someone. I.e., "He is neggessive about his pencils."

When we went to Monkey Son #1's school orientation, one of the teachers told us that some parents write their child's name on every one of his crayons because children get possessive of them. Neggessive enough for you? No? OK, how about this:

This morning I took the recycling bin out to the street. A few hours later, as I was decluttering, I found some useless flyers in a stack of papers I was sorting. Trying to be a little more environmentally friendly, I decided to take my lazy self outside and down the drive to deposit them in the recycling bin since the truck had not yet come to pick them up. As I was about to put the flyers in, I noticed how neat the stack of papers I put in earlier looked. And then I realized that stack of papers wasn't mine. In fact, they weren't loose papers at all, but a stack of about 10-15 magazines, many that I had never heard of. I was confused at best.

I asked Husband if he had brought them home from work and put them in the recycling bin, but he said no. Besides, I realized I would have noticed them when I took the bin to the street this morning. But being confused and curious as we were, he advised I go back out and look at the address on the magazines. I did so, but found that most had no address label, and the ones that did, the label had been ripped off.

Here's the neggissiveness of it all. Though I would rather someone put the magazines in a recyling container than the trash, I (and Husband, too) felt somehow...violated. It's a strange thing to explain, since it really doesn't matter. I feel irritated about the whole thing but don't know why.

Guilty Innocence

Guilty Innocence: noun. Having the form of being innocent with some guilt attached.

OK, I really struggled with that definition. I would think that innocence is an adjective, but the dictionary says it's a noun. So we'll call it that. But what I mean by "guilty innocence" is knowing you are doing the right thing, even though there is some guilt involved.

Husband just finished our taxes and presented me with the paper to sign. Next to the place for my signature was the infamous "occupation" box. I hesitated. What do I write there? Is it domestic engineer? Housewife? Stay-at-home mom? I eventually settled on housewife and let that be the end of it.

You know, I don't really like the term "domestic engineer." There's something wrong about it, I think. I was reading Wikipedia one day, and came across this statement: "The euphemistic term 'domestic engineer' has gone out of favor, being seen by some as satirical, as if to give a sense of mock dignity to a role held in low esteem by the speaker." (Full article here.) Maybe that's it. It seems almost silly. Note, though, that I don't care if other people use the term. I just personally don't. (Remember 300 Roses when I said I don't care if other people make it? It's the same kind of thing.)

Which, in a round-about way that you should be used to by now, brings me to my point. I'm happy to stay home with my kids. Really. But when people ask if I work, it is almost painful to say no. I could say yes, being that I do actually work regardless of the fact that I don't get a paycheck, but somehow I don't think that kind of smart alec answer is going to get me anywhere.

So, after some reflection, I've come up with what I think is the reason why I feel a slight pang of guilt when I have to say that I don't have a "real" job. It's the fear that in the eyes of the asker I'm somehow not right. Like I might be lazy or just not living up to my potential. That realization is somehow freeing.

So now, I say it loud (or as loud as I can get on the internet): I'm a housewife. I'm a stay-at-home mom. I feel my job is very important and I am doing the best thing for my family!

Did you notice the italics on "my"? That's because I want you to notice that me staying at home is the best solution for my family, but is not necessarily for others. I recognize that there are a lot of factors that need to be considered in order for a parent to make that kind of big decision.

Domestic Glitch Part 2

Click here for part I.

Domestic Glitch: noun. An instance when a person tries their hardest to run a smooth household, but something still goes wrong.

A few weeks ago, Husband had to go away for a few days on business. I decided to use that time to try out some new recipes.

Husband is usually the one who cooks. He took over that responsibility while I was pregnant with Monkey Son #2 (or somewhere there abouts). He's fantastic at it, really, but sometimes I feel like I'm not doing my full job by letting him do the cooking, even if he is better at it than I am.

One problem I have with cooking is raw meat skeeves me out. I hate it. The look, the feel...yuck! I feel like I can never quite get my hands clean enough after handling it. Don't get me wrong. On nights when Husband doesn't want to cook, I do cook for him and I have no problem doing that. But I don't enjoy it. Every time we watch a cooking show where they are patting the meat as they tell you about it, I cringe. The other day we watched The Sandlot, and Small's step-father put a frozen steak on Small's black eye...I was squirming.

So, that's why I don't like cooking. But I, as usual, digress. What I want to tell you about is the butternut squash soup I made while Husband was away. It was fantastic and no raw meat involved. It was so good, I made another batch the day Husband came home. He wasn't interested in it, but I gave him a bite later, and his reaction was terrible. He pulled back, made a face, and shuddered like it was the worst thing he had ever had. Oh, dear.

I didn't know he didn't like squash.

"OK, well, I won't make it anymore, then," I said.

"No, no, no. You can still make it for you," he replied.

But I won't be making it. It takes an hour or so for all the pre-roasting and slicing and washing and prepping to make this soup. I'm not going through all that just for me.