F16’s Don’t Kill People, 500 Lb. Bombs Kill People

I can’t decide if this is funny, disgusting or just plain sad. It did remind me that there is a local DJ who admits to sneaking a plastic tub of store-bought frosting into the cinema and eating it with a spoon.

I tend to think of frosting as decoration that gets pushed politely off a slice of cake with a fork when no one is watching. Obviously, I’m in a minority.  

I taught Danny to count to 100 by whipping cream*. It takes about 100 strokes with a whisk to whip half a cup of heavy cream. Bonus-you get to eat half a cup of heavy cream. I always thought that was pretty good, but according to some cooks-not good enough.

If you’ve been feeling cheated in the butterfat department, here’s a recipe for making a richer whipped cream. I’m intrigued, but not enough to actually do it. Scroll down in the post for the recipe.

*It really does involve a child in the learning process. I was kind of amazed how quickly he figured it out, but the promise of a bowl of whipped cream is a darn good incentive.

Why is it the rest of the world recognises the dangers of over-fluoridation in children, but US doctors are still pushing it to the point of prescribing supplements? We have a well on the farm and when Danny was born the paediatrician was quite adamant that we mix his formula with fluoridated water. He didn’t have any teeth yet, but eh, we figured he knew what he was talking about so I bought fluoridated nursery water. At subsequent visits he would make sure we were still buying the nursery water and remind us that supplements were available if he wasn’t getting enough. Seemed reasonable enough-I grew up drinking fluoridated water in Chicago. I also remember getting a "fluoride treatment" at the dentist a couple times a year where you had to sit there with some sort of thing in your mouth coated in a gel-like application. I used to leave the office and within twenty minutes my mother would have to pull-over (it was a haul to the dentist’s office from our home) so I could puke my guts out. This happened every time and was viewed as some sort of expected, non-alarming thing. Certainly no one entertained the idea it might be a mild form of poisoning.

I’ve stopped buying the nursery water and I don’t use fluoridated toothpaste. The stuff shows up in enough other places that I’m confident Danny will still get more than he needs without my giving it to him additionally. When I made the decision after reading through hundreds of articles that swung from tin-foil hat to "need a chemistry degree to comprehend" I still felt a little ashamed-like I was going to have to lie to the paediatrician rather than explain why we’d made the decision. There’s so much far-out information floating about that I’d be sympathetic to someone thinking I was a nutter for reducing my child’s fluoride intake. I realise how it sounds (and if you’ve ever seen Dr. Strangelove, you know all about the "fluoridation" bit) but I don’t feel it is worth the risk to continue pumping a child full of something you’re wary of just so people won’t think you’re mad. For our child, anyway. Obviously, you need to make the decision that’s best for your family and I’m not about to start lurking in the water aisle at the grocer lecturing parents on the dangers of nursery water.

I really don’t believe this is due to some horrible fluoride-pushing cartel that just wants kids to drop a few IQ points so they can reap profits from pushing their supplements. It does seem like a case of "If a little is good, more is better" and pretty soon municipalities were racing to dump as much of the stuff in the water supply as possible-which might have worked out fine if toothpaste manufacturers weren’t doing the same. I can remember pretty clearly when they started advertising the toothpaste as having fluoride and my mother insisting we could only buy Crest because it had the most fluoride (remember when the gel toothpastes came out and there was some question of whether they were as effective delivery systems for fluoride as the paste?). I have no idea if that was true or some random thing she heard from someone on the bus, but she believed Close Up would cause cavities-and besides, the advertising was vulgar.

There’s some question about the type of fluoride used in water supplies vs. the type used in a dentist’s office. I’m not a chemist and don’t feel qualified to weigh in on that one. Since I’m not in a position to determine which type of fluoride is a waste product, I’ll just cautiously cut back until more information is available. This seems like the only reasonable approach that won’t have me out of my mind with fear every time the child drinks a glass of water or brushes his teeth. Besides, I’ve just come to terms with ridding the house of plastic food storage containers-I’m sure next week we’ll all be told the glass is manufactured in such a way as to be carcinogenic. You know, my mother used to re-use plastic margarine tubs and often filled them with hot soup. Sometimes I really shudder to think of all the potential chemicals we ingested. Sad thing is, she was an artist and was so incredibly careful to keep us away from exposure to chemicals from her materials, yet contaminated us on a daily basis by innocently re-using containers that seemed "too nice to dustbin."

Just today, the US House of Representatives passed a bill that will restrict the use of certain plastic materials in children’s items. This was done long ago in Europe, but even as Congress passed this legislation the White House and industry groups were trying to claim that there isn’t any proven risk. When the Canadians banned the use of clear hard plastic bottles and the US government countered that it was perfectly safe, it was eye opening. Now with the recommendations on fluoride, I feel if not vindicated, at least a bit less embarrassed by my decision to limit our child’s intake of fluoride. I have no way of knowing if it was the right thing to do, but it is reassuring that people who know a whole hell of a lot more about this sort of thing than I do are willing to go one record saying fluoride intake in children should be reduced.

Sometimes I wonder how my generation ever made it to adulthood, much less produced offspring given the second hand smoke, filthy air quality, lead paint, chemicals in food/colourings, fluoride, plastics, and bike riding without helmets. I used to get allergy jabs every Saturday morning from the age of seven until about sixteen. Included in those shots was some vitamin mix the allergist called a "Cold Shot."* To this day I have no clue what the hell a "cold shot" was comprised of, but my mother didn’t hesitate to have me stick out my arm for the elderly doctor (he was in his eighties and stone deaf) to jab. He said I needed it and that was that. His equally elderly brother was the paediatrician. Their mother must have been so proud.

At least Danny won’t be forced to endure the wintergreen/root beer flavoured fluoride treatment and barfing all the way down Cicero Ave. Actually, not all the way down, because there was a pharmacy nearby where she would stop for some equally disgusting "cola syrup" that was supposed to settle my stomach. For all that suffering you’d think I’d have good teeth, but I don’t.

*I can’t help it-whenever I think of the "cold shot", my brain thinks:

"Ever see a hot-shot kid? I saw the Gimp take one in Philly. He never got the needle out of his arm. Kid, it was tasty."

It isn’t a fear of terrorism that keeps me at home on a farm in the country-it’s the fear of having to deal with people who think they are dealing with terrorism. There’s only so much stupidity a person can be assaulted by. I haven’t been on a plane in years, and I don’t attend sporting events so admittedly, I might be a bit behind the times in my reaction to all of this "Could be used by terrorists" rubbish. I’m glad to hear you can now bring sunscreen into Yankees Stadium, but gee whiz, this nonsense is getting pretty out of hand, don’t you think? I can’t believe this was thought-up by a security person-it had to come from the lawyers. It sounds like someone imagining all the potential situations that could get them sued, no matter how far fetched.

Actually, the more I think about it, this sounds like they wanted to corner the market on sunscreen and sell their own to a captive audience. Have you bought sunscreen lately? That stuff is quite expensive, particularly the children’s variety.

I’m so glad I’m not thirty years old and just starting out in life-at least I can console myself with being old enough to look forward to being senile or dead. I mean, how do you interact with people who are scared shitless of imaginary and probably impossible threats to the point where they just hand over their sunscreen unquestioningly because someone might use it to carry out a terrorist attack? Obviously, the country (or new York and a large swath of Jersey) is filled with just such people.

I could sit here and list much more likely scenarios for death starting with driving a car, but no one will care. So yeah, shake in your shoes and apply your sunscreen liberally before leaving home.

Wait, it’s State Fair time of year-maybe we’ll have a corn-dog scare and they’ll have to sell them without sticks because a terrorist could use it to poke someone’s eye out.  

Today’s thrifty tip comes via The Bitten Word-coffee concentrate.

I remember doing this in the 70’s, and it did make very good coffee (considering I was working with a giant tin of Hill’s Brother’s which was my mother’s brand of choice). Sometimes it’s nice to be reminded how well these old methods work. I also seem to recall special pots to brew your cold drip coffee in, but a jar will work fine.

I’m having iced coffee for breakfast-you’ve got a good twelve hours if you mix it up now. What are you waiting for? 

Vanessa has tagged me for a meme. The meme is to list eight things about yourself that make you happy to think of.

I can name the Roman emperors-all of them, in order of reign. Or, at least I used to be able to-I haven’t tried in a while as it takes a good chunk of time to run through them. It was something I taught myself to do in High School to ensure I wouldn’t have any friends. It worked.

I know how to bake my own bread and preserve my own food through a variety of methods. You just haven’t lived until you’ve preserved a cooked goose in its own rendered fat. I get a great deal of satisfaction seeing my industrial strength shelves fill up with canned goods I made myself to take us through winter. I enjoy it so much, that I’m giving serous consideration to a food science degree (like I need another degree) just so I can say, "That’s Master Food Preserver to you, buccko." 

 I can sew without a pattern. This comes in handy when it is the night before an interview and your husband hands you a shirt that fit five years ago and asks if you can move the neck button over a bit, but realising he’s gained a good fifty pounds, you simply cut a new button hole and tell him to wear a tie over it.

I can pack up and move halfway across the country on a whim. Here’s the thing-in 2001 I was living in East Boston which was finally getting the better of me. We opened the paper one day to see a map from the recent census and decided we’d move to one of the most unpopulated spots in the US. Originally, we picked Oklahoma, but after a short visit realised that wasn’t going to work-too many rebel flags for my comfort. So on the way back, we spent some time in Nebraska and though, "eh, what the hell" and ended up on a farm in the middle of nowhere. Going from a third floor apartment where you could reach out the window and hand the rent to your landlord next door, to a place where the next farm is ¾ of a mile away was a big change. Of course, we never got hit by a freaking tornado in East Boston.

I own thousands (and thousands and thousands) of books. We just put together a new bookcase today. I don’t have any decent furniture and I never got an engagement ring from my husband, but he bought me an unabridged OED, so it’s cool.

Dannypants! He’s three and a half and very verbal. The things that come out of his mouth slay me. For example, earlier this week at the hospital he says to a nurse:

"Hey lady, that’s a very attractive outfit you’re wearing."

She was dumbfounded, but in Danny’s defense, it was a very attractive set of purple and black scrubs. Everyone is "Lady" or "Mister" to Danny and I have no idea where he picked that up. What’s worse, he does it in this funny Jerry Lewis voice so it comes out sounding even nerdier.

I have a deformed ass crack. I’ve already shared this fact elsewhere, but essentially, when I was forming into a baby, a second butt crack started alongside the first. It looks like a little hook coming off the top, and you probably wouldn’t notice it unless you were looking. My mother was really upset when I was born and she asked the doctor, what sort of a freak baby did she give birth to? He told her it was a "birthmark." Hell of a birthmark, eh? I’m glad I have the deformed ass crack, I mean, it’s not like you see that one coming and going, now do you?

I can identify the composition of fragrance even if I don’t know which one it is. The top notes are easy, but I can, just from sitting next to someone on a bus tell with pretty decent certainty what their perfume is made of. Unless it is that crap in an aerosol can from the drugstore. But real actual fragrance, I can usually guess. This is kind of a blessing and curse. Years ago, when everyone was wearing that horrible CK one that smelled like a tin of fruit salad it was like being assaulted every time I caught a whiff of it. In what I’m sure is the universe playing a cruel trick on me, I’ve become even more sensitive to fragrance as I’ve gotten older. Most of the time I have to sprint down the household cleaning aisle at the grocer breathing as little as possible. Why the hell can’t they make laundry soap that smells good? You know, like Shalimar?

I’m not going to tag anyone, but feel free to play if you like.

Granted, I’m still not feeling my moxie-but these are funny. I laughed and laughed and laughed. It hurts like hell when I laugh, but I could not pry my eyes away from this site until I’d gone through the archives.

Still, nothing can compete with the best cake I ever baked over at the Dewey blog. That was a cake wreck and what’s worse-no one even laughed. 

Who knew fruit needed a cosie?

I refuse to look at any sock patterns, lest I become a sock yard hoarder. It happens quite easily as the yarn is colourful and inexpensive. Before long, you’re knitting socks for everyone at Christmas.

Oh come on, she knit a freaking sheath for a banana! 

Here.

tee hee.  

HERE.

Seeing how I spent hours at the hospital with Danny today (he’s fine, you can read that fun story HERE) it seems like I should have had someone look at my throat. Eh, it got worse after I was home. Here’s the thing-while my older sister had mumps as a child, I didn’t and I’m not sure if I was ever inoculated for it. It’s probably nothing, but my whole neck, throat feel swollen and weird and a sip of lemonade damn near killed me.

Anyone know anything about mumps?

In other news, I have six (!) pints of red currants waiting to be canned, which is just great because if this does turn out to be mumps I’m really going to want to look at tart little currants to start my salivary glands going.

Bah!

I keep saying things like "Limes, sour lemons" to myself to see if it hurts when I salivate. That’s pretty scientific, don’t you think?

With unemployment creeping upward, I thought this might be a good time to review some very basic job interview pointers. Having your answers to common interview questions thought out prior to meeting a potential employer will build your confidence. Here are some commonly asked questions and sample answers.

Q: Tell me about a time you had a conflict at work and how you resolved it.

A: I shot her.

Q: Can you give an example of a decision you regret?

A: I got a tattoo in a painful spot that says, "Don’t laugh, it’s paid for."

Q: What do you consider the most important life lesson you’ve learned?

A: If you get scabies from a hooker, you really need to shave off all of your hair-I mean, everything.

Q: Why did you leave your last position?

A: I shot her.

Q: Tell me about a time you did something extra to help out.

A: I always volunteered to clean the bathrooms, but really it was kind of a job perk.

Q: What do you look for in a manager?

A: Someone who can take a shotgun blast to the face and not cry about it.

Q: Tell me about a weakness you have and what you do to address it?

A: I’m such a good shot it intimidates my coworkers so I usually try to downplay it.

Q: What do you see yourself doing in five years?

A: Twenty years.

Now go out and ace that interview!

My three year old can find Pakistan on a map (really, his favourite book is the World Atlas). He’s available for geography tutoring if the McCain campaign is interested, but I must insist on a strict 2:00 PM naptime, or he gets moody and dour. No, not McCain, my kid.

There’s a woman in Columbus, Nebraska that enjoys going to garage sales. That’s it.

No, it isn’t the Onion.