Super Market Thieves

The oddest thing....
A very perky couple. (couple of People not like..boobs...) were in front of us in line at a nearby super market. They had a cart full of food and not like....liquor, sesame seed oil and antidepressants so they SEEMED normal. They also seemed real cheerful and perky, despite the fact there was only one cashier open and there was already more then 4 people in line to check out.
The weirdness happened when a new checker came and opened a line. We could see the perky couple wanted to switch to the shorter line, but they couldn't make up their mind and just do it. Which should they do? Stay in the one they already were in or move to the new line in hopes it would move faster. Indecision was written across their features, they did that half step in the direction of the new line movement, then faltered and stayed in the original line. It was almost painful to watch. The wife, being an oh so clever soul ended their indecision in a most unusual way. She LEFT their line and went to the new one beside ours, that way they could double up and switch at a moment's notice to the the new line should it suddenly start moving at warp speed. Umm...o.k......you're ONLY supposed to do that when OTHER people are NOT behind you. Basically they took two spots you see. I have only moved from one line to another while me sweet hubby waited in the first line IF no other people were in line behind us, OR about to join the line behind us.
It's weird too, cause they looked so normal, all bright and smiley while cheerfully breaking the law of the super market line up. I almost hated running over their feet with my cart. O.k., I didn't really do that. I was too busy scraping my jaw off the floor in utter amazement at their audacity, their....dare I say it, BALLS OF SOLID BRASS to so blatantly act so greedy.
But let me tell you, those extra 3 seconds they ended up shaving off of their check out experience...hooo yeah, you can't buy that. Sure it may earn you the dirty looks from fellow shoppers and have deviant red heads thinking terribly nasty things about you all the way home in her sweet little civic, but man...that's NOTHING, NOTHING I TELL YOU compared to that THREE WHOLE SECONDS. If three whole seconds saved in a super market were gold it have to be like, 5 katrillion pounds. Why else act like an ass and treat strangers like they're unworthy of those 3 seconds. Cause those extra 3 seconds is valuable stuff, that's why. I'm gonna have to get me some of that.
I suspect these 3 second people with the over bright smiles and middle class suburban good looks are the same people who drive SUVs and think that passing on the right is *o.k.*. Cause the extra 3 seconds they shaved off the time it took to get to the red light up a head...mmmm that's Gold baby. That's Gold.
All I know is I'm out three precious super market line seconds. If they're that good then I want em back, I could probably have sold them on EBAY, and made a fortune.

Memory # 7894...

Remember when I used to dress up as a 16th century prostitute and walk back and forth outside your kitchen window? Well walk no, strut yes. A prostitute, especially one from the 16th century, NEVER walks when they can strut.
It was cool how you'd sit there and paint, glasses pushed up on your nose, shooting me sidelong dirty glances out of the corner of your eye. Were you amused at my waddling around in thigh high pleather boots? Or was it the frilly white shirt with so many ruffles it HAD to be from the 16th century? Or maybe it wasn't even my get-up, as authentic as pleather thigh high boots are to the fine art of 6th century prostitution, perhaps it was because the only action I could score was from Big Louie. HA! What a quack.
Good Times Momma Bee, Good Times.

(Big Louie was a duck, may he rest in peace. The Don of the duck cartel that ran all the business in the yard)

Damn You...

Damn you, Sticky Toffee Pudding Ice Cream....Damn you.....
How can I resist the siren's call of an ice cream flavor that boasts three of my all time favorite words in it's title...
Sticky..oh yeah....Toffee...Mmmmm...Pudding...Damn you.
I wonder if perhaps Haggen Dazs is run by Satan, how else can a gal be lured into a 300 calorie per serving ice cream dessert? The good angel on my shoulder doesn't stand a chance, not when she's being tackled by the devil from my other shoulder. How can one make any logical, adult, mature ice cream decisions when the good angel is being held in submission with the sleeper hold from the bad angel. (That's what I get for watching wrestling when I was a kid. Ammunition for my dark side. Hey don't laugh at least this time it wasn't the Vulcan nerve pinch.)
Ding Ding Ding!
Decision made, and the Devil won. Well no surprise there, and what makes decadent, premium ice cream taste even better? I mean besides getting it on sale, sale stuff always tastes better.
Eating it with a stolen spoon.
Wooooohooooooo, corruption of my moral center is 47% complete.
If you like very sweet ice cream then go away, if you lovvvvvvvve very sweet ice cream and would sell your soul for toffee anything...then may I recommend Sticky Toffee Pudding ice cream by Hogging Daze..er I mean Haagen Dazs.
It's guilt ridden delight in every bite.
Damn you...

Guiltless Garbage?

Guiltless Garbage?????? Really?
Oh how I wish. I'm never going to feel totally guilt free when it comes to sending my trash away to be buried in a hole. BUT....I do try to be a *see the glass half full* kind of gal not a *doom and gloom, screw it the world's gone to hell in a hand basket what difference does it make if I'm the only person worried about contributing to the ongoing pollution problems on earth* kind of gal.
We've done a pretty good job minimizing our waste and each week I'm happy to see our recyclables that go off to trash heaven out number the regular garbage. But that's not enough for me. There's something about packing our garbage in those big plastic trash bags that just drives me bonkers. It's so stupid. Why not just gift wrap it with pretty pink paper and a bow with a note for the future generations that reads "thanks for the earth's resources, screw you" while I'm at it.
Even if some of the trash I'm throwing away COULD break down in the landfill how's it gonna stand a chance all tidily encased in those familiar black trash bags? Even if the bags did break down easily it doesn't sound very lovely imagining the planet being enrobed in what essentially will be plastic dirt...yuck.
So what's the answer?
For me, for now, it's BioBags.
Get this, they're garbage bags that are biodegradable and compostable! Supposedly they will break down in the earth as easily as food scraps with no nasty residues or weird gunk.
What does this mean? My little pile of garbage in it's fancy *made from corn* bag tossed into a landfill with a zillion regular bags makes a difference? Yes, it will. For ME! That's the point of being human, we're not meant to control other people, live their lives for them. The only person you can truly affect and change is yourself. The only garbage I can truly manage is mine.
You know how in all those versions of Charles Dickens's "A Christmas Carol" how Jacob Marley comes to haunt Scrooge all tangled up in a chain he forged from his own greed, weighed down with all the money he hoarded in this life time? I think I'm afraid when we die it could be like that with garbage.
Can you imagine spending eternity in the waste and filth and trash you accumulated while alive. Ugggghhh, gross.
But on a brighter note my trash is just a little bit less guilt ridden this week for me. Since I can now use my pretty little BioBags. They fit my little kitchen trash can beautifully. And until we can become a zero waste producing household this'll have to do.

(and yes my kitchen trash is on wheels, pretty swanky huh?)

Note: A lot of wet garbage in these bags will eventually start breaking down the plastic. Which is actually a good thing cause that's what you want to happen in the earth. However if all your trash for the week is wet and in one of these bags it may start breaking down before hand. Just something to be aware of.

Feeling Steamy...

(aint she purty?)

Actually it' seems to be common knowledge that steamvacs aren't steamy. They're hot water-y and suck-uppy. That's fine by me, but I wouldn't mind if the manufacturers called the machines what they really are "Carpet washers" that has a nice ring to it don't ya think?
Well I'm not one for steam cleaning...usually. I hardly remember to vacuum, come on if I can't be honest in my own blog where can I?
The carpet gets a little grubby but it's easily ignored, maybe when you don't have kids it's easier to ignore since you're not belly crawling across the floor quite as often.
Well a poor sick kitty plus a bit of accumulated grubbiness equals a desire to try my hand at steam cleaning. I've only tried it twice before with one of them rental machines from the grocery store. They worked good but like I said I'm not Mrs.Neat-nick-clean-freak here. Seriously I've got dirty dishes older then me...(not really I just said that for dramatic effect)
Once I set my mind on the idea of owning a steam cleaner the idea took root, why not? Every one else has one and glories in the wonder of freshly cleaned carpet why can't I? Well truth be told if we didn't rent I wouldn't HAVE wall to Wall carpeting and therefore wouldn't need a steam cleaner. BUT we do rent and until the day I can say good bye forever to permanently affixed floor coverings I'll make do with a steam cleaner.
I didn't search long and hard, I searched quick but smartly. I had a price range in mind already, under 300 so that narrowed my choices down a lot. The other realllly quick way to narrow down choices is by reviews. Mmmmm GOD I lovvvvvve reviews. Hell I can barely buy a t-shirt with out first reading 701 reviews on it. Reviews, especially if they're positive transform every day purchases in to glorified items of distinction. I don't want just ANY steamvac, I want the steamvac of the people. The steamvac every one else already risked their hard earned money on to try out.
*cackles*...then I just sit back while they take all the risk, write all the reviews and I make my decision on their hard work. muaaahhh ah ha
So the steam vac of the people appeared to be the "Hoover SteamVac with Clean Surge " In my opinion EVERY thing should come with a clean surge, especially coffee.
What finally tipped me over the edge of *just lookin* to *I want THAT machine* was a cool review by a Vacuum Sensei. Seriously, see now you know how much looking around online at my possible purchase I was doing. The Vacuum Sensei is a vacuum cleaner repair person so I was impressed and thrilled with his unique perspective on cleaning machines. He gave my sweet little Hoover SteamVac with Clean Surge a very favorable review and even saved me thirty dollars since I was torn between that and it's slightly pricier sister. If you're in the mood for finding a decent cleaning machine you should check out his site.
I ordered my sweet little cleaning machine online from Amazon, first reason because I couldn't get instant gratification at a nearby store. NO ONE had this beautiful cleaning beast available in store for sale...what the heck? How can an affordable, well reviewed machine by a popular brand NOT be at any of the FOUR DIFFERENT local stores I checked? (I'll tell you why...cause it's all part of their plan to make me crazy with shopper's daze and purchase copious amounts of impulse items like gum and air fresheners-what's with air fresheners at the checkout line, is that where people suddenly are struck by the thought "My car stinks, aunt Geraldine stinks and my breath stinks" weird.)
But ya know what, who cares, who cares if the stores in *real* life won't satisfy my needs. It's just one more nail in the coffin of my hermit life, more and more that middle of the back woods, mail order life style is appealing to me. (did you know you can get ice cream...in the mail...? I'm just sayin...)
The second reason to get Matilda...er...it's still considered *with it* to name your appliances right? Well I got Matilda at Amazon because they were offering FREE shipping.
SOLD!
NO one has been MORE excited about the arrival of their steam cleaner. I mean it, if you think you were excited you're wrong, were you "sleep for only 4 hours, wide eyed at the ceiling in anticipation" excited? Were you "scare the delivery person with over the top unusually desperate tears of joy" excited? HA! I didn't think so.
Don't you love when things work like they should? Every one said this Hoover is a good little machine that does a surprisingly good job on cleaning carpets and I agree.
Like I said our floors weren't super nasty, just a little grubby looking with a few spots in high traffic areas. *hangs head in shame* Look, some of us tend to wave our hands wildly, flailing limbs flinging drops of water or what ever all over the floor as they run their mouth off a million miles an hour.
I should point out we didn't use any of the *approved* Hoover cleaners in Matilda, just our good ol' Miracle 2 soap. And just a drop or two.
So here's the high points:

• Cost me only 159
• Easy to put together-well easy to watch your husband easily put it together while I...er....you foam at the mouth in anticipation.
• Easy to use. Actually easier to roll around then my regular vacuum.
• It didn't soak the carpets like I feared, I was definitely dumping out almost as much dirty water as I was filling it with clean water.
• The carpets dried quickly. Even when they were freshly washed they just felt a little damp.
• and BEST of all, Matilda my new best friend, cleaned the carpets like a charm. They're so sparkly clean I can't stop walking around in a zombie like state of pride. Don't believe me........I took pictures...

Getting to the Bottom of a Saggy Seat....

OR : How to fix a Sagging Sofa

If your seat is hanging a little low to the ground, if the bottom's falling out and your ass is almost on the floor....have I got the fix for you. A tiny bit of minor surgery, a couple of tools any one should have around the house and you're in business.
Our sweet little 89 dollar love seat, that we took home on the roof of our even sweeter little Honda Civic, from the thrift store a few years ago looks awesome. I mean it's just adorable, pretty pattern, nice colors and the cushions were comfy.
Yeah, they WERE. Eventually after much tv viewing over the past few years we found ourselves sitting at awkward angles, listing towards the middle, cracking heads occasionally and finding it harder and harder to get up out of the sofa.
We thought we were clever when we realized the cushions were fine it was the webbing stuff under them that must have loosened and stretched. Easy solution, start jamming old pillows under the cushion. Sure you might eventually be sitting 4 feet higher on the sofa, head brushing the ceiling but at least your tush is happy.
Lately I've been on a cleaning spree and organizing spree and my mind wandered back to the sofa, I had this thought that maybe I could just rip off the material covering the webbing, remove the webbing and reattach it a lot tighter. Yeah.....sounds like a lot of work. I agree, that's why my mind wandered to it but not my actual hands.
I did a quick internet search and people suggested slapping a board under the cushion over the frame...that wasn't what I had in mind, we've tried that on a previous sofa and it was toooo hard.
Then I saw a mention on a site about some one wrapping a sofa frame in packing straps and the old fluorescent light bulb in my head started blinking like mad.
We happened to have 4 pretty blue tie downs. The kind that lets you get the straps reallllly tight with the little tightener doohickey thing.
A little investigation revealed that the decorative flap on the front of the sofa was stapled down, and that the fabric covering on the bottom of the sofa was stapled down.
When I revealed my idea to my sweetie pie man I saw the same beautiful warm fluorescent glow shining out of his peepers.

(note: the sofa is laying on it's back, sweetie is hammering like a mad man pushing the staples that hold the flap in place back in.)

Not all sofas are the same but I am betting you could do this to any, even the kind with metal springs. Basically we added new, taught webbing to the love seat by looping the tie downs around the frame, with the connection hidden tidily underneath, and if we need to readjust the tension we can flip the sofa and do so. Even though we pulled the staples out of the fabric covering the bottom of the sofa, it stays in place because the legs screw through it, so we have easy squeezy access to the tie down tightener doohicky thng-a-ma-jigs.
You can only see a tiny bit of the tie down on the front and if I wasn't lazy I could have slit a tiny hole in the front fabric and had the strap go under it for complete hidden-ness. Our tie downs are blue so they match the sofa anyways. I did pry up the pretty decorative flap on the front of the sofa and had them travel under that, then just hammered the loose staples back in place.
We haven't had a chance to try this out for a long time and I'll let y'all know how this will be for the long haul, I do know that tie downs are CHEAP, I think ours were 30 dollars total for the four of them and a quick look online shows me I could have got them cheaper. Dang!
I figure we can always add more if need be in the future and also have them criss cross the straps we just added.

(note: see how my straps go through the back of the sofa? They're inside the frame, hidden by the back fabric.)

I don't know how much getting a sofa re-webbed or re-sprung would cost at a sofa repair place but I'm betting it's more then 30 bucks, not to mention the hassle of hauling it around. This was cheap, fast and effective.
So many people are so quick to throw things away now a days, a little thought and ingenuity and you can maybe bring new life back to old items.
The cool thing about a sagging sofa you're on the verge of being rid of is that it should mean you have NO fear about trying this technique. If you need to slice a little hole here and there to thread the tie downs through, who cares? Chances are any holes could be hidden under the fabric covering the sofa.

(note" The straps are connected to themselves under the sofa. I think this picture is oddly pretty. The straps will be hidden by the fabric we put back on, using the sofa legs to hold it in place)

My other thought is if you're frugal like we are and enjoy a nice bargain or thrift store find this might make you look at an old cheapo sofa with a sagging seat with new eyes.
By the way, that previous sofa I mentioned we tried the board under the cushions technique with. Don't think for a second we threw it out, instead we stripped it down to the wood one night, I saved all of the fabric, and we have the wood frame sitting in the garage, waiting for inspiration to use it for something. The only part of it that made it in to the landfill was the nasty old foam, and if I could have saved it I would have but it was falling apart.
I just realized my tie down webbing technique might only work on a sofa with removable cushions. How ever if you have a cushion-less sofa perhaps you could do the tie down technique but with a little extra work of getting it under the fabric etc.

(note: inspection by the kitty who watched our entire less then 30 minute sofa restoration. Everything met with her approval EXCEPT not being able to actually get UNDER the sofa. Since she watched us she now knows there IS an under, she saw it and is baffled.)

Ratting Myself Out on Ratafia

If you have more bottles of cheap wine then you expected what do you do?
I mean AFTER the whole bathing in chardonnay and sauvignon blanc deal. After you realize you could cook with them but it would take a while to use it up. Drink it? Well yes that's always an option but when you have other more delightful wines or spirits to choose from how on earth will you ever use up the cheap wine? Two dollar *o.k.* wine over 10 year old Tawny Port...I don't think so.
The thing about a 2 dollar bottle of wine that tastes *o.k.* and is pretty dang nice for cooking is that it's soooooo cheap. You could do something wild and crazy with it and if it doesn't work who cares? It's only two dollars! Hell I spend more then that on shoe laces every month.
You might have guessed by now that we found our selves with a couple of spare bottles of 2 dollar white wine. We had bought it as ingredients to make our Vin De Noix, and ohhhhhhhhh my don't get me started on the Vin De Noix, I'll save that for another post. Let me just tantalize your mental tastebuds by saying it's Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm-nastical.
But as it happened I miscalculated how much cheap white wine we needed to make the Vin De Noix and wound up with leftovers.
Muaaah ahhh haaaaaaa (my evil laugh, sounds better in person)
I decided to experiment. Whilst researching how to go about the whole Vin De Noix process I ran across something called Ratafia. Which has a funny name but intrigued me with it's description and use of...wine. They didn't specify cheap wine but that's what I made ours with. Ooops let the cat out of the bag huh?
We made Ratafia! My Mom is rolling her eyes now as she reads this cause I was the girl who screeched in loud piercing tones that I would NEVER EVER drink....boy...er...umm.....I changed my mind. Hee hee
Anyways the Ratafia is basically an infused wine deal. There's loads of information on the internet. To be honest I wasn't expecting choirs of angels to sing or anything when it was done and we tasted it.....but.....I might have heard a trumpet or two!!!
My bottle of cheap white wine was infused with a cup of super ripe nectarine pieces, several pieces of candied ginger, a vanilla bean, 1/4 cup of vodka and 1/4 cup of sugar and left to meld together in secret tastebud hypnotic ways in my fridge for three weeks...er.............shoot........my guilty conscience wants me to admit that we *sampled* it after one week and ohhhhhhhhhhh my it tasted good enough to *sample* again. You like that photo of our sample? Pretty huh?
We left half of it alone to wait out the rest of it's three week sentence, resigned to the chilly depths of our fridge to do more of it's magical melding.
But for now I can give it two enthusiastic thumbs up! Mmmmmm, better then a liqueur that can get too syrupy. This was sweet, fruity, refreshing and...dare I say it? Cheap!

A Recipe for Confessing....

Confession is good for the soul....
So they say, though I doubt it's as good for the soul as chocolate or coffee....or...(hang on to yer britches people) Coffee AND Chocolate...hummina hummina
So anyways believe it or not I wasn't a rebellious teenager. *gasp* are you shocked? Or perhaps not so much. The only two times I've been grounded in my life were for wearing mascara when I was 13 and for lighting a match in my bedroom. Ohhhhhhh what a rebel eh? Anyways my point being I didn't do any horrendous teenage acts of rebellion that had my parents chasing me round the country side, that involved authority figures (except for getting kicked out of school, one time for a fight I barely participated in) never went cow tipping, parking or soaped any windows. I never smoked, except when I was 4 and I took a drag off my father's girlfriend's cigarette and it was NASTY. I never stole (cookies, ice cream and chocolate and chocolate related paraphernalia do not count.) And the only deliberately malicious thing I ever did was start a rumor that 2 guys in my class who I detested in grade 9 were having a secret love affair with each other. That was pretty satisfying, though now I feel a little bad because what if they really were secretly gay and I destroyed them emotionally by starting the rumor, and also I don't think there's anything wrong with being gay so I've felt a little guilt over that one for a long time. Anyways the rumor didn't really take off but I felt satisfied that I'd done something to express in a creative way my dislike of these two, macho idiotic jerks. I can't remember why I thought they were jerks but I must have had a good reason. Like maybe they were breathing the same air as me, when you're a teenage girl in the 9th grade that's reason enough. Oh shoot, while I'm confessing I used to kick this one other guy in high school, I'm a tad passive aggressive I am now realizing. Him and his buddies all sat in a hall way and stuck their legs straight out as if they owned the place, as if they had the bloody right to be quietly rude to every one who walked by making them have to step over their legs. Funny thing is, I always *tripped* on his legs....*snicker* oh my how clumsy of me to always accidentally kick him. I quit doing that though when one day he *accidentally* raised his leg higher and *accidentally* tripped me as I was *accidentally* kicking him, wouldn't want an accident to happen would I? So I found a new hobby, er route through the school.
My point?
There is no point, I'm confessing, it's supposed to be good right?
I thought I'd start off with the heavy duty stuff like bruising some poor guy's legs every day at lunch time with my sneakered feet and end with stealing 97% of the delicious, mind blowing squares that were too damn good to share with people at the baby shower I brought them to.
It's my cousin's fault. (hee hee)
She lusted after those squares as much as I did, one little nudge in the direction of greed and gluttony was all it took. Actually I don't remember who suggested it. All I have is a faintly chocolate and coffee infused memory of arriving at a baby shower, hosted at my cousin's house.
People frown upon bringing tequila or twister to a baby shower where I come from so my Mom and I settled on a classic. Super, uber rich Arrowroot squares. (a family favorite recipe)
I had to hold that plate full of sinful goodness on my lap all the way to shower during the car ride...if I accidentally stuck my fingers under the plastic wrap and a bump in the road jostled my arm into hastily flinging a chunk of square into my greedy little mouth, can I be blamed? Hell no.
One taste was all it took to fill my dazzled mind with thoughts of sweet thick coffee frosting layered over chocolatey heaven. Do you really want to know how bad I had it? Do you reallllllllllly? I haven't a fricking clue who's baby shower it was I was going to, not a clue. I was all like "Baby? What Baby?"
I carried that plate of loveliness into my cousin's house with more care then I've ever held a kid, if some kindly relative smiled hello and asked "What ya got there dearie?" I growled, maybe drooled a little.
Thank goodness my cousin was there, she saved me from having to wrestle Auntie so-and-so or other cousin whats-her-face to the kitchen floor. My cousin in all her genius saw the potential of that plate of arrowroot squares to be OURS. And only ours, as arrowroot squares were so obviously meant to be.
With a little diversionary tactic that consisted of loudly saying "I'LL JUST PUT THIS PLATE OF SQUARES ON THE COUNTER OVER HERE!" Then we oh so cleverly slid off one or maybe two of the teensy tiniest squares from the whole batch onto another plate. See how clever that is????? All the relatives would each think the other relatives had gotten to the squares before them! Brilliant! While off we made with the loot, down to my cousin's bedroom, where we shut the door and proceeded to scarf down sickeningly vast amounts of Arrowroot squares. Hummina Hummmina Hummina. Oh man, if one of something is good then you KNOW a dozen of it is heaven.
The baby shower...it's a sugar induced high like blurry memory. I don't even remember going home, I remember when we shut the bedroom door and started in on that plate of stolen sweets and then....nothing.
Hmmm, I feel a sort of tickling sensation on my right foot....is that my soul? Feeling better after all this confessing?
It's not as satisfying a sensation as I expected...damn.
If you have the urge to make your own Arrowroot Squares let me tell you this.....if you can find a way to some how steal them from yourself or deprive others from enjoying them they'll taste ever the more sweeter. I'll have to ask my Mom where we even got the recipe. The original called for Arrowroot cookies to be crumbled up in the base but me dear Ma and I always used chocolate chip cookies. The name Arrowroot Squares has stuck for us though.

Arrowroot Squares


Lightly grease an 8"x8" pan and prepare your self mentally for a sweet mind altering experience.

In a bowl:
30 small crunchy chocolate chip cookies (or the cookie of your choice)
crumble these up leaving some dime size pieces and chunks. you don't want them too fine.

In a pot combine the following and cook on medium heat, constantly stirring for 8 minutes:
8 tbs. of white sugar
2 eggs well beaten
1 tsp of vanilla
4 tbs. of cocoa
1/3 cup of butter
1/2 tsp of salt

After 8 minutes dump the mixture over the broken cookies and stir up, then dump it in to the 8" pan and press down firmly.

Icing:
In a bowl combine:
1/3 cup of soft butter
1 1/2 cup of icing sugar
1 tsp of vanilla
1 tbs. of cocoa
Some super strong coffee


Mix this together and add the very strong coffee till you get the right frosting consistency. For the coffee I usually use a couple teaspoons of instant coffee in a bowl with a little bit of water, so its super dark strong. It doesn't take much of this strong coffee liquid to get the frosting smooth and creamy.
Then you frost the squares and enjoy. They get firmer when they cool, yummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmers!

The only other thing I can add to this ramble down memory lane and recipe sharing is that it's seriously a damn yummy square and also I hate calories. (actually make that I F$#%ing hate calories)

Pet Peeve # 567

People who stand in the middle of the grocery store aisle.......
maybe I'm missing something, maybe it's a nice cheap 'n' easy thrill having fellow grocery shoppers slide up against ya to get by. It's probably the same people who whip out their cell phones in line and carry on intimate conversations at ear deafening decibels....nothing but a bunch of perverted exhibitionists who don't have the guts to strip naked in the parking lot is all they are....
The easiest thing to do if you're trapped in a line with a person like this is to ignore them. The funnest thing to do is to start yelling really loudly everything they're buying.
SO I SEE YOU'RE BUYING WHITE BREAD, WHOLE WHEAT IS BETTER FOR YOU. WHAT'S ALL THAT BEER FOR? WHY SO MUCH BLEACH? ARE THOSE COOKIES ANY GOOD, HEY CAN I JUST TRY A QUICK NIBBLE OF ONE OF THOSE COOKIES?
Some days...some days I hate people.

U.F.O.? or B.A.L.L.O.O.N.?

The second photo is showing the image enlarged 200%, it did move across the sky, BUT it did move in a straight line, perhaps balloon like? It did disappear in the second I took my eyes off it after snapping several pics, disappeared ufo like? or popped balloon like? Leave a comment and weigh in, U.F.O.? or B.A.L.L.O.O.N.?

Seen On September 2, around 7:10 pm.

It's about Time.....

(you can't plan and pose a photo as great as this one)

I am in love with the self timer mode on my cameras.... that's right, cameras as in plural. Cause if there's ANYthing better then taking one photo of yourself with the self timer... it's taking two.
Now it's a little known fact that the self timer mode with a camera is also known by photo taking aficionados like myself as the *perv* mode. I like to sweeten that up a bit by calling it the happy mode, is there anything more joyous then being able to slap your camera down on a handy garden wall, table, or hood of the car and running, hell bent for leather, to get into position whilst the camera blinks, counting down till SNAP! Photo's taken and there's nothing you can do about it, forever immortalized with a slack jawed expression of surprise, half bent in a bizarre parody of some one about to sit down, or have a seizure.
I love the timer mode.
So many photos taken by human hands at the controls are soooo...what's the word I'm looking for? Predictable, boring, staid, regular...boring?
Too perfect smiles, with too perfect poses with too perfect everything, yeaaack, makes me sick.
Remember the good ol' days before digital cameras when photos had to be taken with that antiquated stuff called FILM? Oh you don't remember, you were drunk that year? Well shame on you, I remember. We had a sweet little 110 camera (I have NO fricking clue what the 110 means, but that's what we called it) and it was used as sparingly as any precious antique. Photos were snapped and if you were lucky a few months later the film was developed and that's when the magic happened. People would be horrified to find photos of themselves, forever frozen with their eyes closed, listing to the side, petting uncle Joe's ass. (all at once in some cases) There was such an element of surprise with film cameras.
Girls wondered if they looked fat and couldn't even find out for weeks, until the money was scraped up to get a measly 12 photos developed.
And people couldn't throw the photos away, a very few and very brave souls would grab the offending photo of themselves and run upstairs to their bedroom where they'd rip it into a dozen pieces and stuff the remains under their mattress to be later doused in kerosene and burned at a more opportune time. (the photo not the mattress)
Most people though recognized the value of the photo, the time, energy and hard earned moolah that went into 1/12 of a roll of film. Oh sure there were those fancy schmancy 24 count rolls of film but those were only for the rich people. Only rich people got twice as many photos of a birthday or Christmas. Us poor folk had to make due with a lowly 12 photos per holiday and you'd be damn lucky if you were in one of them.
Any one you know who likes to put on airs of richness, just have a look at their family album and you'll know soon enough if they're old money or new money. It would make you an ass for even wanting to know but I'm just saying, that's how you'd find out.
But of course all that has changed, the digital age means I can take 163 photos on our walk down to the get the mail, and on garbage day, oh mama I can take an easy 332 with out blinking an eye. You think I'm kidding?
That's why I love the self timer mode, brings the spontaneity back to photo taking. It brings the level of danger and excitement associated with snapping a photo up to whole new heights.
I've got photos of myself that are so stunningly horrific in their blurred, vacant eyed, vaguely creepy half seated poses that I am saving them just in case I need to black mail myself some day.
Also, when I die and people go through my stuff what a joy it will be to them to find not only the sweet perfectly arranged smile with the one quarter turn to the left and slightly raised right eyebrow photos but all the other embarrassingly weird and disturbing photos taken with the self timer that show me in a truer to life moment. Man that's gonna be so fricking sweet.
My only beef with the self timer is that it only goes as high as 25 seconds, I really, and I mean reallllllllly need a 25 minute timer. Some poses take longer to get into then others. (what have I told you about minds, gutter and filth? bunch-o-pervs see why it's called the perv mode now do we?)
Our dream pose with the self timer is to prop the camera on the patio, set the timer, get in the car and drive down the road and across the valley and up to the hill on the other side, get out, sit on the hood, arms extended up in a friendly wave, smiles on our faces where we will then freeze in that pose for how ever long we think is left in the allotted 25 minutes. I've got a pair of binoculars that I can watch the camera through to see if I can tell when the light on the camera starts blinking faster to indicate it's gonna snap.
I know, awesome idea right?
Until then I satisfy myself with setting the pathetic little 25 second timer and then run around the living room, heart beating joyously in anticipation of...what? I don't know! That's the cool part, who knows what wonderfully, unscripted moment the camera will catch.