18 December 2009

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 9)


I cannot tell you how many times throughout the week, I think, "Oh I'll have to remember to save that for my Friday blog." And come Friday, do you know how many of those stories I actually remember? I'll give you a hint: -n < X < 1 where X is both 1) an integer and 2) a sign of dementia setting in extraordinarily early. So it was nice knowing you all. Well, most of you, anyway.

And yeah, yeah, I could type out all these stories right as they come to me, since Blogger does, after all, have that handy "save as draft" feature. But COME ON. That is far too obvious and reasonable a solution. Logical shmogical. I like a challenge.

Oh Go. I'm turning into my grandmother.


When it comes to child rearing, my philosophy falls most closely in line with this exchange from the book Hogfather between a child, her mother, some dude named Crumley, and Death (you know, the boney man all in black with a scythe)(also, he speaks in all caps) who was filling in for the Hogfather (like Santa but with tusks):

“I wanta narmy. Anna big castle wif pointy bits,” said the child. “Anna swored.”

"WHAT DO YOU SAY?" prompted the Hogfather.

“A big swored?” said the child, after a pause for deep cogitation.



“You can’t give her that!” [her mother] screamed. “It’s not safe!”

"IT’S A SWORD", said the Hogfather. "THEY’RE NOT MEANT TO BE SAFE."

“She’s a child!” shouted Crumley.


“What if she cuts herself?”


True, I don't currently have children of my own, so what do I know? And I'm sure in the future when we're all required to have background checks and pass government inspections to have children, this post will the be listed as the #1 reason on what I'm sure will be an extensive list of why I won't be allowed off the government-mandated semi-permanent sterilization (not that I'm paranoid or anything, which will probably be reason #2), but I'm just saying that when it comes to children, unless they're playing tag on a slanted roof while blindfolded, I don't usually fret and wring my hands over how they might hurt themselves.

But then I started babysitting for this one family. The boys are great, they never get into trouble, and they're as easy as kids can be. But the 17 month old takes naps, and every time I put him down, I spend the next two hours LIVING IN FEAR that he's gonna DIE in his sleep. Especially since he will only sleep on his stomach, with his head buried in an adult-sized pillow, and with about 8 blankets covering him (all stuffed in his itty bitty crib), which to me seems like the SIDS equivalent of playing Russian Roulette with a fully-loaded barrel. So I end up walking to his room every few minutes or so and listen at the door just to make sure he's still breathing. And I dunno, maybe by 17 months they're in the clear of SIDS, I really have no idea. If only there were some kind of handy, instantaneous method* of researching this as I sit here with my fingers tippity tapping words onto this large screen in front of me.

Um...hold on a second.

. . .

Okay, so apparently 95% of the time SIDS occurs in babies under 1 year old. But still. It's me we're talking about here. Worms give me panic attacks. I think I'm still gonna worry about this kid.

*I don't know what is with this word, but every single time I type it, I always start off with "mea-" like it's spelled "meathod." I KNOW that's not how it's spelled, but my fingers apparently believe otherwise. Any of you have words like that?


My mom e-mailed me earlier today asking for my dad's address so my aunt can send him something for Christmas. I told her just to look it up on a sex-offender site.

AHAHAHA. It's funny 'cause it's sad true.


For my 4th thing this week, I will now recite the alphabet.


You can't see me, but I just took a bow. I mean, that was a pretty sweet rendition I just did.


About a week ago, a US Postal Service woman came to our door with a package that had our address but was addressed to the previous owner. I let her know that that guy didn't live here anymore, and then she took the package with her and went on her merry way. Then last Sunday - SUNDAY! - the exact same package was dropped off at our door without even so much as a knock (though I caught a glimpse of him, and it wasn't the same person from earlier in the week). It even had a "return to sender" label on it. Great job, USPS. Really on the ball there, aren't you? I mean, not only did you waste time by redelivering it to the wrong address, you had to pay someone overtime just to redeliver it to the wrong address on a day that you're not supposed to even be open! And the sender had to pay extra for that service too!

Man, I can't wait for the government to run health care. They've just got a knack for saving money and doing things properly. Kudos, government. Kudos.


Does anyone know how vital the "sifting" step is in baking? I'm making a recipe tomorrow that calls for it, only we don't have a sifter, and I was thinking that, oh I dunno, maybe giving it the ol' stir-around with a fork might do the trick? Is the whole thing gonna be ruined if I don't sift by the book? Should I even bother, should I just give up now? Will the world simply implode if I mix dry ingredients with widdershins utensil motion instead of the almighty Sifter?

Honestly, I'm lucky that anything I make turns out as good as it does, because I'm always making up steps, cutting corners, or putting in weird substitutes (Butter? I'm all out! Can I just shake this gallon of milk for an hour or two? Like a faux-churn? That'd work, right?)(or)(Ew pears? No, I'magonna use apples)(or)(I've got no vinegar either. I think a combination of Sprite and Vegetable oil will be fine).

So yeah. Sifting with a sifter? Thoughts? Opinions? Tangents?


Speaking of hating pears, let's end with this gem:

And it's especially appropriate since David Tennant (the only skinny boy in the world to catch my eye, 'cause I usually like my men cornfed and squishy) was in my dream last night, and as I was riding with him on the back of a flying white horse, I wrapped my arms around him, and GOOD LORD did that man have a rock hard six-pack. And then I kissed him in the middle of some sort of bizarre treasure hunt in California, in which the final clue was the Renaissance Hotel, and I didn't even know that was a real hotel until I just googled it 30 seconds ago. Weird.

But anyway, David Tennant. Yum.

Lippy tappy too tah, everyone.

1 comment:

  1. 1) props for use of the word "widdershins"

    2) if you don't have a sifter, put the flour in a strainer over the bowl, and tap the side of the strainer with a wooden spoon over and over. Or jiggle the strainer. It'll do a great job, and your baked goods will be lofty and good.

    3) You think your USPS stories are bad? Try owning a company that ships 2-3,000 packages per week.