Stephan returned from a business trip, and graciously spent what few minutes he had free to install a new system that not only includes more reliable Internet, but wireless connection! Whoo-hoo! Now I am home away from home! I think it's a good thing—one day without Internet was a nice break, but I'm not ready for a steady diet.
Among many people I know, IKEA seems to be almost a cult store, like Trader Joe's, Whole Foods, and Penzey's. I've come to understand people's devotion to the last three, but had to travel to Switzerland to have the IKEA experience. Part of the fascination here is the reasonable prices: pretty normal by U. S. standards, but worth a special trip here. Or maybe it was the restaurant special: a huge plate of Swedish meatballs, with gravy and lingonberry sauce, plus a mountain of French fries with unlimited ketchup, all for CHF 5. I could have done without the gravy, but the meatballs were very good, the lingonberry sauce terrific, and I hadn't had French fries in ages. Even the shopping was fun, even for this non-shopper, though I suppose I'll have to go to Orlando's IKEA to discover what was the overall IKEA experience and what was due to the local flavor. The meal was my favorite, though—mostly because it was a good time to chat and renew acquaintance with a Swiss friend. Actually, she's not Swiss—she's an American living in Germany—but I meant a friend we only see when visiting Switzerland. (More)
I know, I know, I have many more adventures to write up, but I'm starting with this one, as I think it will be more interesting to most of those for whom I write.
The first adventure of the adventure occurred the day before I left. I suppose I should have discoverd the problem earlier, but I didn't. (More)
Click to enlarge.
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I wrote about xylitol when I discovered it in Japan four years ago, and that remains one of my most popular posts. Although I did not experiment further with xylitol as a sugar substitute, I continued to use it as a dental rinse, swishing a small spoonful around in my mouth after brushing my teeth at night.
Until I started worrying about the fact that the xylitol I had was made in China, that is. Chinese manufacturers were caught substituting poisonous substances for more expensive, safe ingredients in toothpaste and children's toys, as I wrote about in 2007, and later in baby formula, candy, and other products containing milk. I wrote to the manufacturer of my xylitol, seeking reassurance, but received no answer. (More)
Some of my favorite flags:
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Visit Stephan's blog to enter your guesses about Little One Stücklin's arrival details. Here's a teaser to help you guess:
Barefoot, (very) pregnant, but that's not their kitchen.
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I'm not sure exactly where I'm going with this resolution, and I really have no business adding another when I haven't made much progress on the others yet. But it's the 8th of the month, and this one intrigues me.
Fear and worst-case-scenario thinking has too much influence in our lives. It's natural: One phone call with really bad news can make one jumpy every time the telephone rings, even though the ratio of bad to good (or at least neutral) calls is very small. It's natural, but it's not right. (More)
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What could be more American than hot dogs?
Lawsuits, apparently.
I bought a package of hot dogs yesterday. I'm probably a little behind the times—we don't eat hot dogs very often—but since when did they come with warning labels? Not the kind of warning I might expect, e.g. "this product is full of fat and dangerous additives, and is made from parts of the animal you don't want to know about," but the following:
CHOKING WARNING
For children under age 6, cut hot dogs lengthwise and crosswise into small bite-sized pieces. Children should always be seated and supervised while eating.
Come again? You must be six years old to eat a hot dog? I remember the day when hot dog-shaped meat sticks were a staple toddler "first finger food" in the baby food section of the grocery store. Not that we ever bought them: they were disgusting. But there they were. Clearly, somebody sued somebody over a hot dog incident, and now we get warning labels.
The chief problem with such inanities is that they lead to a cavalier attitude towards all warning labels. In between "children under six must have their hot dogs cut into tiny pieces" and "remove plastic from pizza before putting into oven," someone's going to miss "poison—do not drink."
Check out our* Steph Shaw on a very early morning TV gig in New York today. The guy out front who keeps hogging the camera? That's Swedish singer Anders ("the Sting of Stockholm") Holst. Okay, so he's the star and she's the backup. Some folks need to get their priorities straight.
Here's the link. (I can't embed the video.)
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Mutton dressed as lamb.
I can and do text, finding it quite useful at times, mostly because not all phones send and receive e-mails, and because our overseas friends can receive texts for free...
...but I just don't get why anyone who knows how to type would prefer texting. And although in extremity I will do it, I have a deep aversion to abbreviating words, omitting capitalization, and leaving out punctuation.
You will often see me with headphones on and mp3 player in my pocket...
...but today's Zits is me!
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Our Memorial Day celebration concluded with a lovely dinner at at a friend's house, to which we brought wine and dessert. This friend is one of those on whom I am not hesitatant to inflict culinary experiments, and this cake was one. I began with a simple vanilla cake base from my Boston Cream Pie recipe (credit my friend LCS). It is a single-layer cake, which I sliced in two horizontally with a serrated bread knife. I heated passionfruit jam a bit to make it thinner, and mixed it well to make it smooth. This I spread generously on the first layer. After adding the second layer, I used a pastry brush to glaze it and the sides with the thinned jam. Then I added the fruit: fresh strawberry halves and whole blueberries, canned apricot halves and peach slices. Using the brush again, I glazed the fruit with the jam.
I must say we were all very happy with it! Apricot or currant jams are more traditional for this sort of dessert, but I think the passion fruit flavor made this cake the success it was.
What I plan to do differently next time (and there will be a next time):
- Use a higher percentage of whole wheat flour in the cake. (This time I used a 50/50 mixture of white whole wheat and all-purpose flours).
- Use less sugar in the cake (the recipe calls for 1 cup, but I think less would work well—the jam makes it sweet enough).
- Possibly make the inner layer of jam thinner.
- Use fresh fruit exclusively if I can't find firmer canned fruit; the apricots and peaches were rather mushy—though that did make cutting the cake easier than firm fruit would have.
One of the reasons I like Mallard Fillmore is that he can always be counted on to remember:
This Memorial Day I also want to honor a living veteran, who served as a WAVE in World War II, and who is
90 years old today!
(Not that she's likely to see this...but I honor her anyway.)
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Today I almost gave up before I started. First, there was a blog post that I felt needed a comment, and I was guiltily trying to get it written without using up the entire hour, when I learned that there was yet another wrinkle in my ongoing struggles with the insurance company over a medical procedure from last year. (It isn't even an acrimonious battle; everyone agrees that the company should have paid. But one small error in a procedure code has taken months to rectify.) I thought we had finally gotten it straightened out, but this morning another charge popped up that the insurance company says it has paid but the provider says it hasn't received. I managed to take myself out of the middle and now have them talking directly to each other on this one—but by the time I was done my computer time was well over an hour, and the day barely started.
Still, I plowed on, deciding merely to log the time while trying to keep it down. That worked somewhat (though I did keep coming back to the machine more than I had hoped), until mid-afternoon, when I realized that the timer had been running throughout a long conversation with Porter and now read nearly four hours. Probably three of that was legit, but not really knowing the truth I again gave up the fight. At least I lasted longer than I did yesterday.
Ganbarimasu!
Last night I finished a project that had kept me welded to the computer for the better part of several days, and I awoke wondering if it would be possible to go through a day limiting my computer use to one hour. The experiment started out well enough, though I had accomplished but the minimum of my normal morning computer routine when I realized I'd already used up a quarter of the time. It was not too hard, however, to set the routine aside and turn to (mostly) non-computer-related projects. I felt empowered, and looked forward to a day of accomplishment. Occasionally I needed the computer briefly for something I was doing, but managed to do the job and get off, resisting the temptation to check blogs, news, or e-mail.
That lasted till maybe 9 a.m. (More)
I am not going to join the recent chorus of voices crying that multitasking is a bad thing. It can relieve tedium (listening to lectures while ironing), increase efficiency (knitting while keeping an eye on swimming children), and add to enjoyment (conversing while eating). What's more, if mothers couldn't multi-task, the whole world might crash to a halt.
Nonetheless, there is increasing evidence—in scientific studies and in my own life—that multitasking can also lead to poor performance on all tasks. Conducting a business deal via cell phone while driving may increase your productivity, but not if it distracts you from brake lights suddenly appearing on the car ahead. Fixing dinner while talking to a friend on the telephone may cause you to miss a critical change in her tone of voice—or to burn the meal.
I was inspired a month ago to make Pay Attention this month's resolution. If there was a specific reason I no longer remember it, but the decision was confirmed when I read The Brain that Changes Itself, a book that showed up in my mailbox after I unexpectedly won it in a contest. Here are some of my thoughts as I evaluate multitasking, and areas in my life where I need to be more attentive. (More)
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