I saw a really strange thing at school this week, but when I showed it to Lauren she explained it to me…
To play along at home you say, “I get it”, but you don’t explain it. Explaining it ruins the game. Guessing is okay.
by Lloyd 15 Comments
I saw a really strange thing at school this week, but when I showed it to Lauren she explained it to me…
To play along at home you say, “I get it”, but you don’t explain it. Explaining it ruins the game. Guessing is okay.
This is why I can’t get things done. I’ve been trying to clean out the guest room (while watching t.v.), and have managed to sort through quite a bit of crap stuff. I have an entire bag of papers for the recycling bin, three bags of stuff for Goodwill, and have distributed eight tons of stuff to their respective places. I’m still not done. It didn’t help that I found a box of stuff that came with my computer. It had stickers.
Behold the iOven!
I was walking home today and saw the most peculiar thing. Remember back in the summer when Brad and Lloyd walked with me to work and we saw the house up on stilts? Well, it’s all done now with a real basement and windows and a porch and solar lights,
and, of course, a smoking chimney sticking up out of the yard.
What the??? I don’t know what is up, but I must find out and incorporate it into my theory of all things heaty.
Lloyd’s a stinker. He outright lied to me again* and said that he didn’t have school but the teachers had a ‘workday’. After dropping me off this morning – he came right back and cleaned the basement!!! There are no ‘before’ photos, but trust me – it was awful. Piles of junk, papers, boxes and assorted nonsense all over. It’s so clean now, I am inspired to get the rest of the house in tip-top condition!
Garrrrrrrr. As happy as it makes me, it pains me that he is so good at this. How does he have the ability to stay in one spot and keep working on it without the urge to cook/melt/sew something or to try to make a solar heater for cats? Such laser-like focus. Right now, I have four chores in the works: folding laundry (half done), sorting through papers upstairs, trying to remember to take that vacuum upstairs, and…… eh, I’ll remember the other one later.
*He did this in March of 2007, and once before, but I can’t find the proof.
My consolation prize for Lloyd’s day of fun was a little pocket stove on the clearance table at Eddie Bauer. It had everything going for it – cute, small, gadget-y, and most importantly: it involved fire. I was so excited to try it out! This thing could save our lives someday!
Now, I have to tell you that while I was taking the above photo, I was already planning my post and thinking how cool it would be to show you cooking with fire right in my kitchen. It’s safe to use in a tent*, so I assumed the kitchen would be alright. I was so excited to watch these mostly odorless*, smokeless* solid-fuel tablets bring a pint of water to a rolling boil in 8 minutes*, then watch it burn for the remaining 5 – 7 minutes*. Doesn’t that sound like a fun way to spend an evening?
* All part of the instructions.
Here’s what really happened. I took the things out of the box, and right after I snapped the photo, Lloyd yelled, “What is that smell? Is it cat poop**?” We checked the cat’s butts because – really – they’re ancient and it’s entirely possible that they leaked. No. It was the box that stunk. And the cubes. And I had to listen to Lloyd grumble and act like he was dying because of a tiny little bit of toxic chemical vapor. Sheesh! I hurried up and shook a cube out of it’s packet so I could take the photo. It broke.
** He didn’t really say ‘poop’.
It didn’t just break, it shattered and got stinky chemical dust all over the counter.
“Get it out! Get it out!” Lloyd was hollering from his computer chair, holding his nose.
I answered, “I’m trying to take a photo. Hold your horses!” *snap* (Doesn’t he know the importance of the photos?)
So I took it outside and lit it. It’s a very cool, tiny little stove. You can set up the side ‘arms’ at a 45 or 90 degree angle, depending on the size of your pan. I had it all set up at the 45, which was a mistake. After I snapped a bunch of shots, I moved the pan handle for a better photo (it’s all about the photo), and collapsed a side. You all should be very proud of me for resisting my first instinct to just reach over and fix it the burny hot metal. So I held the pot for the remaining nine minutes.
My pint never reached a boil.
by Lauren 7 Comments
This story isn’t interesting news to anyone who knows me, but to those of you who don’t know it, let me tell it. A while back I became crazy-obsessed with making lotion bars. Washing my hands at school a hundred times a day makes them chapped and awful. Our cook let me try her lotion bar and it was so nice! It’s basically a chapstick for your hands. I tried to find one at the tree-hugger store in Lincoln but couldn’t, so I made my own.
There are hundred of different ways to make them, but you really just need beeswax and oil. I add shea butter to mine because I bought a gigantic mountain of it when this whole obsession began. I’m down to my last two chunks of it. So here’s the recipe:
Using a scale, you need:
One part beeswax (I use 45 grams for a ‘part’. I see no reason why you couldn’t use a candle or a whole beehive.)
One part oil (I use light olive oil)
One part shea butter (I actually use less shea butter and make up the rest with oil. Does that make sense? It’s like this ‘part’ is 1/2 butter and 1/2 oil)
Nuke it for a few minutes then whisk. Use an impossibly cute tiny whisk, if possible. Burn yourself on the lava-hot glass. Add a dash or two of cornstarch. That helps it feel a bit less greasy (but not much – this is all basically grease, y’know).
Pour into a mold. You can use anything you like, but I use a candleholder because it makes such nice straight sides, plus it was free.
For this batch I left a little in the measuring cup, added a tablespoon or so more oil, then whipped it when it cooled down to make my fake vaseline. (It’s in the jar.)
After putting the mold in the freezer for an hour or so, I then twhack it mightily with a wooden spoon to try and get the little pucks out. After Lloyd yells, “Good grief – what are you doing in there?” I remember that it works better to pour some warm water over the back to loosen them. Viola! Enough oily goodness to last me until spring!