It's the time of year when the garden is really producing and there's just more food to be picked and consumed than is humanly possible. We planed 14 tomato plants this year and had a few extras pop up from gardens gone by, so as you can imagine there are a lot of tomatoes to be eaten.
Whatever we can't eat, I can and save for the winter. Fresh canned tomatoes are just soo much better than the store-bought variety and really it doesn't take a lot of time or special equipment to do it. Below is a recipe for how I do my canned tomatoes.
Ingredients/tools:
-Tomatoes
-1 large sauce pot
-1 small sauce pot
-jars, lids and rings
-2 large bowls
-ice
-Fresh basil
-Salt
-Lemon Juice
-Vinegar
-Water bath canner
-1 bottle tomato juice
Directions:
Fill your water bath canner and put it on to boil. At the same time, put your jars in the dishwasher and hit the sanitize button. You can boil the jars if you want, but I find the dishwasher to be much easier.
While the water is boiling and the jars are santizing, put your tomatoes into the sink and cover them with water. Splash a little white vinegar into the mix and swish them around. The vinegar will remove dirt, leaves and other nasties from the outside of the tomatoes.
Next, put about 3 to 4 inches of water in your large sauce pot. Turn it on to boil. While it's coming up to temperature, fill a large bowl with ice and add a small amount of water until it is no more than 1/2 full.
Once the water is boiling, reduce the heat to a gentle simmer, then choose a tomato from the sink and cut an X on the top with a knife. Drop the tomato in the water and repeat the process with several others. After several seconds you will notice the skin of the tomato begin to loosen and peel back around the X. Remove the tomato from the water with a slotted spoon and transfer it to your bowl of ice water. Continue until all tomatoes have been moved.
Choose a tomato from the ice water and simply pull the skin off with your hands. Dice the tomato on a cutting board and deposit it into the remaining large bowl. Continue the process with the remaining tomatoes.
Once the tomatoes are finished, empty the water from the large sauce pot and replace it with a couple cups of tomato juice. Bring the juice to a boil. Place the jar lids in the smallest sauce pan and bring to a boil. Turn off the heat. While the juice is boiling, carefully prepare your jars that were sanitized in the dishwasher with 1 basil leaf, a 1/2 tsp of salt and 1 teaspoon of lemon juice. Add diced tomatoes to each jar, then pour in tomato juice until 1/4 inch head space remains. wipe the rim and add a lid from the small saucepan. Tighten the ring onto the jar and set it aside. Continue with the remaining jars and tomatoes.
Once all the jars are prepared, check to see if your water in the canner is boiling. If it is, add the jars to the canner and process for 15 minutes. Remove the jars from the canner and allow to cool to room temperature. Press on each lid to ensure they sealed.
That's all there is to it! Once complete, you'll have a nice selection of canned tomatoes to use throughout the winter. Use them in sauces and other recipes that call for canned tomatoes.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Facebook Yardale Woman...
Dear Facebook yardsale page woman... you suck. You know who you are, you're the broad that comments, "interested" on every item regardless of what it is and then follows up with "would you take ____"? with half the asking price. Then, whether or not the seller agrees to your ridiculously reduced terms you back out. Unless it's something totally awesome and brand new that was a steal to begin with - then you accept and re-post on another site.
You suck.
I'll say it for everyone else on the site. Whenever we see your name pop up in our notifications we cringe inside and see what ridiculous "offer" you have made. I'm tempted to block you, I really am. One more comment on something of mine and you're done.
You see, I've done this dance with you before. When I was new to the site you once commented on an item I was just looking to get rid of and offered half of the asking price. I accepted (though not enthusiastically) and asked you to message me to arrange a meeting place. You didn't message me right away, even though we both know you are hardwired to Facebook. While I was waiting for the message to come through, 2 other people became "interested". Now I had the comment feed showing your ridiculous offer with 2 other individuals that wanted it. You backed out and I was forced to sell at the lower price because everyone had seen I had agreed to sell it to you for that. The site forbids bidding, so I couldn't even ask if either of the interested parties was interested in paying the asking price for the item since I had effectively lowered the price with you.
Bitch.
Now that I've been on the site for a while I see that this appears to be a game you enjoy playing with people. You comment, they comment, you get the item for a lower price. Sometimes you buy it, though more often than not you don't and the price gets lowered. Then you post something like dirty underwear and get indignant if someone tries your own tactics on you.
Guess what sister, the game is over. OVER! You just commented on two of my items that are brand new in the boxes with a combined retail value of $80. You offered me $15 when I was only asking $30 to begin with. $30 is a steal for $80 of brand new kitchen appliances! Why offer $15? Why be insulting? Rather than take the $15 I'd rather just give the items as random Christmas gifts to someone I'm not really close to and have no idea what to buy.
Seriously though, if I wanted $15 for them, I'd have listed them for $15. Duh. Look at the price, pay it or go home. At this point I feel like I have to list them at $60 if I want $30. Now, don't get me wrong - I've haggled as well, but only when it says $XX/OBO and only when the item is not new. If it's brand new, I am willing to pay 50-75% of the retail price depending on what it is and where it is located. If the price is significantly more than I am willing to pay (like double), I simply pass on it without commenting or "like" the picture so the seller knows that I like their item, but don't like their price. There will always be another time.
As I was typing this, the person that commented got back and said they would pass on the items since I was unwilling to reduce my prices by half. So sad! I am tempted to get off the site all together - it's much more of a headache than it is worth. Especially with people like the super commenter making me look bad on everything because I won't lower my prices to half for her.
You suck.
I'll say it for everyone else on the site. Whenever we see your name pop up in our notifications we cringe inside and see what ridiculous "offer" you have made. I'm tempted to block you, I really am. One more comment on something of mine and you're done.
You see, I've done this dance with you before. When I was new to the site you once commented on an item I was just looking to get rid of and offered half of the asking price. I accepted (though not enthusiastically) and asked you to message me to arrange a meeting place. You didn't message me right away, even though we both know you are hardwired to Facebook. While I was waiting for the message to come through, 2 other people became "interested". Now I had the comment feed showing your ridiculous offer with 2 other individuals that wanted it. You backed out and I was forced to sell at the lower price because everyone had seen I had agreed to sell it to you for that. The site forbids bidding, so I couldn't even ask if either of the interested parties was interested in paying the asking price for the item since I had effectively lowered the price with you.
Bitch.
Now that I've been on the site for a while I see that this appears to be a game you enjoy playing with people. You comment, they comment, you get the item for a lower price. Sometimes you buy it, though more often than not you don't and the price gets lowered. Then you post something like dirty underwear and get indignant if someone tries your own tactics on you.
Guess what sister, the game is over. OVER! You just commented on two of my items that are brand new in the boxes with a combined retail value of $80. You offered me $15 when I was only asking $30 to begin with. $30 is a steal for $80 of brand new kitchen appliances! Why offer $15? Why be insulting? Rather than take the $15 I'd rather just give the items as random Christmas gifts to someone I'm not really close to and have no idea what to buy.
Seriously though, if I wanted $15 for them, I'd have listed them for $15. Duh. Look at the price, pay it or go home. At this point I feel like I have to list them at $60 if I want $30. Now, don't get me wrong - I've haggled as well, but only when it says $XX/OBO and only when the item is not new. If it's brand new, I am willing to pay 50-75% of the retail price depending on what it is and where it is located. If the price is significantly more than I am willing to pay (like double), I simply pass on it without commenting or "like" the picture so the seller knows that I like their item, but don't like their price. There will always be another time.
As I was typing this, the person that commented got back and said they would pass on the items since I was unwilling to reduce my prices by half. So sad! I am tempted to get off the site all together - it's much more of a headache than it is worth. Especially with people like the super commenter making me look bad on everything because I won't lower my prices to half for her.
Monday, August 26, 2013
Pregnancy Journal - Week 6
This marks to beginning of my 6th week of pregnancy. A lot has happened in the last week - not really in terms of the fetus, but in terms of doctors. I have yet to have my first visit and I have already changed doctors.
Yep. You read that correctly.
No, I didn't not up and switch practices in a fit of hormone induced rage. I actually was spilling the beans super early to a close friend and then the story of my last pregnancy came up. I told her about how after the baby was born I wound up with an abcess and how I'm worried about managing 2 kids in the waiting room for the obligatory hour long wait.
She was confused. Apparently not every OB charges you $25 if you're 10 minutes late to your appointment, yet feels justified in making you wait for at least an hour past your appointment time to see the doctor. Weird, right?
Then she told me how her doctor doesn't breeze in and breeze out like you're some sort of cow pushing out #3 (she has 3 kids herself). They treat every pregnancy like it's new and answer questions and take time with the patient, even if this isn't their first trip to the rodeo.
Amazing.
Of course I immediately asked for the name and number of this mystical OB while contemplating if it's weird to have the same vag doctor as my friend. In the end, I wound up calling her doctor and making an appointment. It then took me 2 days to cancel my first appointment with my old OB (that was my "official" doctor for my first 2 pregnancies, but only delivered 1 child and only saw me twice with another). Sometime around my 15th call to try and cancel I was convinced I was doing the right thing.
Other than that, last week all that happened was I got a blood test to confirm pregnancy. Shock of all shocks, it came back positive. Oh, and I may be getting some super cute maternity clothes from a yard sale site (see my previous posts... I am a bit obsessed with it). We also started looking at girl names since those are impossible. I liked Hope, Gia and Scarlet. The hubby liked Jenny. We vetoed each other's choices.
Yep. You read that correctly.
No, I didn't not up and switch practices in a fit of hormone induced rage. I actually was spilling the beans super early to a close friend and then the story of my last pregnancy came up. I told her about how after the baby was born I wound up with an abcess and how I'm worried about managing 2 kids in the waiting room for the obligatory hour long wait.
She was confused. Apparently not every OB charges you $25 if you're 10 minutes late to your appointment, yet feels justified in making you wait for at least an hour past your appointment time to see the doctor. Weird, right?
Then she told me how her doctor doesn't breeze in and breeze out like you're some sort of cow pushing out #3 (she has 3 kids herself). They treat every pregnancy like it's new and answer questions and take time with the patient, even if this isn't their first trip to the rodeo.
Amazing.
Of course I immediately asked for the name and number of this mystical OB while contemplating if it's weird to have the same vag doctor as my friend. In the end, I wound up calling her doctor and making an appointment. It then took me 2 days to cancel my first appointment with my old OB (that was my "official" doctor for my first 2 pregnancies, but only delivered 1 child and only saw me twice with another). Sometime around my 15th call to try and cancel I was convinced I was doing the right thing.
Other than that, last week all that happened was I got a blood test to confirm pregnancy. Shock of all shocks, it came back positive. Oh, and I may be getting some super cute maternity clothes from a yard sale site (see my previous posts... I am a bit obsessed with it). We also started looking at girl names since those are impossible. I liked Hope, Gia and Scarlet. The hubby liked Jenny. We vetoed each other's choices.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Fall Organization Goal
With the seasons changing and the impending arrival of my 3rd baby, I thought it was high time I got a little more organized. One thing I've always wanted to change was my house - I never feel like it's clean enough. With that being said, the chores can sometimes get overwhelming since I'm the only one that cleans here. So, to help relieve some of the burden, I've decided to make myself a monthly chart and routine.
I first listed every room in my home, and then made 3 columns for each: daily, weekly and monthly. Then, I started listing tasks that I do with those frequencies. Anything that's less than monthly I put down as monthly because lets face it - the cabinet fronts could stand to be washed more and I really do need to stay on top of cobwebs a little better.
Then I made some blank calendars and I will mark down each room at various points - weekly and monthly to know what to do and when. Hopefully this helps streamline my cleaning routine to leave more time to play with the kids and get work done. :-) I'll let you know how it goes!
P.S. - Does anyone have a home command center? Like a place for grocery shopping lists, cleaning lists, contact numbers, etc? I'm thinking of making a binder for one to keep everything in one location.
I first listed every room in my home, and then made 3 columns for each: daily, weekly and monthly. Then, I started listing tasks that I do with those frequencies. Anything that's less than monthly I put down as monthly because lets face it - the cabinet fronts could stand to be washed more and I really do need to stay on top of cobwebs a little better.
Then I made some blank calendars and I will mark down each room at various points - weekly and monthly to know what to do and when. Hopefully this helps streamline my cleaning routine to leave more time to play with the kids and get work done. :-) I'll let you know how it goes!
P.S. - Does anyone have a home command center? Like a place for grocery shopping lists, cleaning lists, contact numbers, etc? I'm thinking of making a binder for one to keep everything in one location.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Blood
Does anyone else feel queasy when they get blood drawn? Just knowing what's going on over there grosses me out to the point where I feel nauseous. The weird part is that I am totally fine watching someone else get blood drawn, it's only an issue when it's me.
That probably won't bode so well with the whole being pregnant thing... As I recall, once you get knocked up, all medical professionals suddenly become ravenous vampires that are hell bent on draining you at every opportunity. Not fun.
I'm also trying out a new OB - I used the same Dr. for my first two pregnancies, but was not impressed last time, so this time around I'm trying someone new. She came highly recommended by friends and that was good enough for me. On a side note, what's up with male obstetricians? They skeeve me out in the worst way... what type of man would choose that as a profession? They may all joke about it, but the ones that really go for it must be a special kind of perverted. I'm sorry, but if you are a dude, you have no business elbow deep in vag all day. And don't even get me started on birthing babies. If you've never given birth and lack the capability to give birth, you have no idea what it's like and therefore when in labor I don't give a damn what you have to say. Tell me not to scream and to breathe through it... let me slowly cut your balls off with a dull knife and we'll see if you can breathe through it without screaming....
That probably won't bode so well with the whole being pregnant thing... As I recall, once you get knocked up, all medical professionals suddenly become ravenous vampires that are hell bent on draining you at every opportunity. Not fun.
I'm also trying out a new OB - I used the same Dr. for my first two pregnancies, but was not impressed last time, so this time around I'm trying someone new. She came highly recommended by friends and that was good enough for me. On a side note, what's up with male obstetricians? They skeeve me out in the worst way... what type of man would choose that as a profession? They may all joke about it, but the ones that really go for it must be a special kind of perverted. I'm sorry, but if you are a dude, you have no business elbow deep in vag all day. And don't even get me started on birthing babies. If you've never given birth and lack the capability to give birth, you have no idea what it's like and therefore when in labor I don't give a damn what you have to say. Tell me not to scream and to breathe through it... let me slowly cut your balls off with a dull knife and we'll see if you can breathe through it without screaming....
Monday, August 19, 2013
Pregnancy Journal - Week 5
Even though I was not thrilled to learn that I am pregnant again, something in me says I need to document this time so that when I am happy about it, I won't look back and feel like I missed out on anything. So, I'm starting a pregnancy journal. I'm a little busy, so I'll put this weeks "entry" into bullet form:
- Using an online calculator, I found out that I am 5 Weeks Pregnant and that I am due April 17th, 2014.
- Just for kicks, I used a chinese gender predictor and it says, "boy". I don't have a strong feeling one way or the other. Probably a girl though because my other 2 are girls and this seems the same thus far.
- I am already bloated to the point that my pants are snug, but not really uncomfortable yet.
- I am tired. I have been having mild nausea and headaches, though the latter two could be from giving up 90% of my daily caffeine intake.
- I made my first baby doctor appointment today, though I'm already contemplating cancelling and looking for a new OB. I didn't have a great experience the last time around with this doctor, so I'm unsure of whether I want to repeat that.
- So far we've told my husband's aunt, a friend from the MOMS Club and my bestie. We're planning to tell our families at 9 weeks, though mine may find out a week or two earlier if we see them because I can't hide this degree of bloat.
- I'm freaking out thinking about the logistics of 3 kids and all the stuff I'll need to buy. I saved all my old baby stuff, but I need/want to get new clothes, a rock 'n play and maybe a new bassinet or at least a new bassinet pad. We'll also need a new crib mattress, etc. etc.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Pregnant With Baby #3
I really really hope that nobody in my family reads this blog because we haven't told them yet that we're expecting baby #3. In fact, we just found out for sure ourselves last night.
This was not a planned pregnancy. In fact, I was on the cusp as to whether or not I even wanted a 3rd child even though my husband wanted another... in a year or two. We were actively preventing pregnancy and yet somehow it happened anyway. Oh well, what's done is done and there's no turning back now.
This is going to sound stupid, but I think I've known myself for about a week now. I kept having strange pulling sensations and I noticed I was bloated. The big trigger was that I didn't get my monthly migraine this time, which told me something was up. Turns out, that "something" was a baby.
I don't know how other moms feel when they find out they are having a surprise 3rd baby, but for me, excitement was not my first emotion. I was (and still am) scared, nervous, and irrationally angry at my husband because we both know this is HIS fault. ;-) Most of all, I'm dreading telling our families. We don't have the types of families that are like hooray! Go you! Every pregnancy announcement has been met with my mother frowning and asking, "are you SURE this is what you want?" followed by, "You're throwing your life away. I hope this is the last one. You don't seem very happy." -- how can I be happy when facing that reaction? Anyway, I digress. My mother-in-law is usually a better sport, but given that she just went through a divorce and doesn't believe in happily ever after anymore, I'd say she's going to be less than thrilled for us. In case you haven't read any of my previous posts, my sister-in-law is a psycho, so she'll be upset. My brother-in-law hasn't been excited about anything since he found out he was gay. My brother won't care - he's a bachelor in his mid-30's and is rarely around. My sister will be mad. She tried for 8 or 9 years to have a 2nd baby without any luck. The first one was hard to come by as well and yet I seem to get pregnant at the drop of a hat. So you see, it won't be a fun announcement to make. In fact, I wish we could keep it a secret until about 6 months in...
Well, I get to keep it a secret for another month or so until my daughter's birthday party. I figure by 8, almost 9 weeks I'll probably be showing given that this is baby #3. Now I just have to get myself psyched up about it. Stop thinking of the bad things and just think about the good stuff... like not sleeping for 3 months, swollen boobs, labor and losing the weight. :-/ That didn't really work.
Any tips for a 3rd time mom that's not thrilled to be a 3rd time mom???
This was not a planned pregnancy. In fact, I was on the cusp as to whether or not I even wanted a 3rd child even though my husband wanted another... in a year or two. We were actively preventing pregnancy and yet somehow it happened anyway. Oh well, what's done is done and there's no turning back now.
This is going to sound stupid, but I think I've known myself for about a week now. I kept having strange pulling sensations and I noticed I was bloated. The big trigger was that I didn't get my monthly migraine this time, which told me something was up. Turns out, that "something" was a baby.
I don't know how other moms feel when they find out they are having a surprise 3rd baby, but for me, excitement was not my first emotion. I was (and still am) scared, nervous, and irrationally angry at my husband because we both know this is HIS fault. ;-) Most of all, I'm dreading telling our families. We don't have the types of families that are like hooray! Go you! Every pregnancy announcement has been met with my mother frowning and asking, "are you SURE this is what you want?" followed by, "You're throwing your life away. I hope this is the last one. You don't seem very happy." -- how can I be happy when facing that reaction? Anyway, I digress. My mother-in-law is usually a better sport, but given that she just went through a divorce and doesn't believe in happily ever after anymore, I'd say she's going to be less than thrilled for us. In case you haven't read any of my previous posts, my sister-in-law is a psycho, so she'll be upset. My brother-in-law hasn't been excited about anything since he found out he was gay. My brother won't care - he's a bachelor in his mid-30's and is rarely around. My sister will be mad. She tried for 8 or 9 years to have a 2nd baby without any luck. The first one was hard to come by as well and yet I seem to get pregnant at the drop of a hat. So you see, it won't be a fun announcement to make. In fact, I wish we could keep it a secret until about 6 months in...
Well, I get to keep it a secret for another month or so until my daughter's birthday party. I figure by 8, almost 9 weeks I'll probably be showing given that this is baby #3. Now I just have to get myself psyched up about it. Stop thinking of the bad things and just think about the good stuff... like not sleeping for 3 months, swollen boobs, labor and losing the weight. :-/ That didn't really work.
Any tips for a 3rd time mom that's not thrilled to be a 3rd time mom???
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Early Education
As you can tell by the name of my blog, I'm a mother. My kids are young - under 5. As my oldest daughter approaches the traditional school age, I've found that the education system has changed a bit since I was young, and quite frankly, I think the changes suck.
For starters, my daughter was born in the winter. The rule for starting school is that the kid must be 5 by August 31st to go into kindergarten that year. So that means my daughter will be one of the oldest kids in the class.
Fortunately (sarcasm), they now "suggest" - aka bully and pressure -- you put your kids into preschool. Not just 1 year of part-time preschool, but 2 years of intense 3-day-a-week preschool. Of course, that preschool is run by the public school system, but it's not free, it's about $2,000 a year and it has strange hours and no busses. Makes sense.
I'm also a part of our local MOMS club. I knew that a lot of the stay-at-home moms in my area were on the older side, but it seems the MOMS club is a mecca for late 30's, early 40's first-time stay-at-home moms. That's fine, except that these ladies and I parent differently. They want to put their kids through 5 years of preschool leading up to kindergarten - which they start when they are 6 because somehow that gives them an "advantage" - and then they move on from there. Hovering. Bullying and pressuring the teachers. Tutoring. Programs. Pre-SAT prep courses, etc. etc. The result is a bunch of kids that are graduating high school at 19 and completely inept at doing anything on their own.
I don't want that for my kids.
I don't want to put them through 2 years of the same preschool program, while basically paying for glorified daycare on a schedule that downright stinks. Not interested. I would rather they do 1 year of preschool and then jump into the thick of things. By the time high school is over they are going to be sick of school anyway - no need to speed up the burnout by putting them through the paces a year more than is necessary.
So the other moms can go ahead and judge me now - call me cheap, say I don't care about my kids - but when our kids are in high school and yours are smoking pot and pregnant and mine are still enjoying learning new things, we'll see who has the last laugh.
For starters, my daughter was born in the winter. The rule for starting school is that the kid must be 5 by August 31st to go into kindergarten that year. So that means my daughter will be one of the oldest kids in the class.
Fortunately (sarcasm), they now "suggest" - aka bully and pressure -- you put your kids into preschool. Not just 1 year of part-time preschool, but 2 years of intense 3-day-a-week preschool. Of course, that preschool is run by the public school system, but it's not free, it's about $2,000 a year and it has strange hours and no busses. Makes sense.
I'm also a part of our local MOMS club. I knew that a lot of the stay-at-home moms in my area were on the older side, but it seems the MOMS club is a mecca for late 30's, early 40's first-time stay-at-home moms. That's fine, except that these ladies and I parent differently. They want to put their kids through 5 years of preschool leading up to kindergarten - which they start when they are 6 because somehow that gives them an "advantage" - and then they move on from there. Hovering. Bullying and pressuring the teachers. Tutoring. Programs. Pre-SAT prep courses, etc. etc. The result is a bunch of kids that are graduating high school at 19 and completely inept at doing anything on their own.
I don't want that for my kids.
I don't want to put them through 2 years of the same preschool program, while basically paying for glorified daycare on a schedule that downright stinks. Not interested. I would rather they do 1 year of preschool and then jump into the thick of things. By the time high school is over they are going to be sick of school anyway - no need to speed up the burnout by putting them through the paces a year more than is necessary.
So the other moms can go ahead and judge me now - call me cheap, say I don't care about my kids - but when our kids are in high school and yours are smoking pot and pregnant and mine are still enjoying learning new things, we'll see who has the last laugh.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Rudeness on Facebook Yard Sale Sites
Has anyone been on a Facebook Yard Sale site lately? Maybe it's just my local group, but it seems that rudeness is abundant. I know that people go on there to get a great deal, but offering 50% or less than what the seller is asking seems rude to me.
This seems to be what happens EVERY TIME something is posted. You can post an item for $5 and someone will want to give you $2. I know the idea is to go back and forth to get it to $3 or $3.50, but it just seems ridiculous to me. If the seller wanted $3.50, they would have posted $3.50. If everyone offers less, it makes the sellers have to ask for more to get what they really want. For example, if I really want $5 for an item, I pretty much have to post it at $10 (which is ridiculous for some things) in hopes that someone will offer me $5 and not $3. I know the seller could always say no, they want to stay at the original price, but then they seem hostile.
Then there's the people that want to negotiate on the thread. Recently, I had an item listed at $15. After sitting for a while, someone offered $10 on the post. I said sure. Then other people were interested, now I feel like I could get more - maybe $13 or so, but since I already agreed to $10, I now pretty much have to accept that from anyone else. Oh, and the original person that offered $10 disappeared for like 3 days, then was "confused" when it went to someone else.
Maybe it's just me, but I'm getting sick of buying and selling on these sites. :-/
This seems to be what happens EVERY TIME something is posted. You can post an item for $5 and someone will want to give you $2. I know the idea is to go back and forth to get it to $3 or $3.50, but it just seems ridiculous to me. If the seller wanted $3.50, they would have posted $3.50. If everyone offers less, it makes the sellers have to ask for more to get what they really want. For example, if I really want $5 for an item, I pretty much have to post it at $10 (which is ridiculous for some things) in hopes that someone will offer me $5 and not $3. I know the seller could always say no, they want to stay at the original price, but then they seem hostile.
Then there's the people that want to negotiate on the thread. Recently, I had an item listed at $15. After sitting for a while, someone offered $10 on the post. I said sure. Then other people were interested, now I feel like I could get more - maybe $13 or so, but since I already agreed to $10, I now pretty much have to accept that from anyone else. Oh, and the original person that offered $10 disappeared for like 3 days, then was "confused" when it went to someone else.
Maybe it's just me, but I'm getting sick of buying and selling on these sites. :-/
Friday, August 9, 2013
A Tisket A Tasket, A Trip to the Basket
I don't know what other stay-at-home moms do for "me time", but for this mama, it's my weekly mecca to the grocery store sans kids and husband to get food to feed the fam. Exciting, no?
My local grocery store is the Basket and like anyone in New England knows, the Basket is basically THE social hangout of the century. They open at 7am, close at 9pm and are packed to at least twice the fire code every hour in between. I dutifully leave my house at 8pm on the appointed grocery shopping night and make my grueling 2.5 minute drive to the store.
That's when the fun begins.
To park at the Basket, you must possess the skills of a Nascar driver. You need catlike reflexes, better than 20/20 vision and a keen sense of adventure. I skillfully maneuver my SUV into the parking spot, avoiding children, seagulls and shopping carts while carefully staying within the yellow lines. I avoid the pretentious Mercedes who's rear tire is over the line straying into my newly acquired space while wondering why a person who has enough money to drive a new Mercedes would shop at the Basket. Perhaps their grocery savings has paid for their luxury whip? Who knows.
Once out of my car, it's like a game of Frogger to get to the front door. 2 steps forward, 1 step back. Dash behind a car that's backing out to get a shopping cart. Leave the safety of the concrete cart return (apparently people like to hit those, so they needed something more durable than plastic or metal) and then make a mad dash to the front. There will surely be someone blocking the ramp to the sidewalk with a car while waiting for their better (and smarter) half to appear with food. I shoot them a dirty look and squeeze my cart past their car, not really avoiding touching it, but making a face as if I care. I wave as I approach the automatic doors.
The door opens, though somewhat reluctantly and a wave of cool air washes over me. Ah, glorious air conditioning. In the winter, the grocery store offers warmth, while in the summer it offers AC. I prefer the summer, as in the winter the front is usually caked with dried salt, mud and other nasties from wet shoes tromping in and a certain lack of rugs. There's a container of disinfectant wipes near the door to wipe your cart handle, as if touching the wipes container to get one wouldn't give you Herpes. Please. The store is coated in nasty and I'm not dumb enough to believe a sanitary wipe is going to save me.
I head in and immediately wait in line. It seems that the display of weekly ads near the front door is always a hot-spot for locals to gather after grabbing their cup of sketchy complementary coffee. I am proud to say that although I live locally, I have not once swapped stories in front of the Basket's ad rack.
Once you move past the first obstacle, the store is ripe with others. Most smart shoppers immediately head to the deli line to get a ticket. It does not matter when you get to the store, there will be a line at the deli. I have gone at 8:45pm and I have gone just before 7am. There is always a line. Always. Without fail. If you pull a ticket and it's less than 20 from the current number being served, you feel this overwhelming sense of joy and luck as if God is personally giving you a high-five. Once, I went to the Basket and there were only a couple of people in front of me. I got a lottery ticket that day and won $2. It wasn't a coincidence.
You can tell who's new to the Basket by observing the deli counter. The newbies grab a ticket with a cart full of food and wait. The seasoned shoppers like myself know better. We grab a ticket with an empty cart and then head back to start our shopping, periodically checking in to see what progress has been made at the deli line. Usually, I can get the dairy and most of the aisles done before they get near enough to my number for me to wait, and remember - I go an hour before they close when it's not nearly as busy as it is during the day. I haven't figured out why there are only 4 meat slicers at the deli counter either - it seems that they would need at least 10 to reasonably keep up with the demand, but hey.
Shopping the aisles is an experience. You maneuver around pallets of food being re-stocked, abandoned carts, ladders and everything else you can think of. Some aisles are impassable. I weigh my options and decide that if I want ketchup that badly, I'll buy it at BJ's. Towards the end of the dry goods I start skipping aisles that are completely blocked with fatigued and confused shoppers that have given up on life. Inevitably, in the paper goods aisle there will be a child that has had an atomic poop and a parent that just doesn't give a shit, no pun intended. The kid will be wailing at 8:30 at night, the mom will look flustered and the dad will look irritated while he eats cookies. This is why I shop alone.
At this point I've been in the store roughly 30 minutes, maybe a little longer. My cell phone rings and it's my husband. I swipe the screen to ignore. He can deal with the kids a little bit longer, after all, this is my ME time, right? The phone rings again. He's mighty slow tonight... ignore.
After I make my deli order, I trek off to the produce section. All of the backtracking I've done to keep tabs on the deli line has added up to at least a mile of walking at this point, so wearing comfortable shoes is a MUST. At the produce department I always chuckle to myself and silently chastise the powers that be for staffing the produce department entirely with brown people. Seriously, old stereotypes persist in my town I guess. They seem happy enough, wearing green smocks, jaunty little hats and chattering away in Spanish. The woman that stocks the tomatoes (I am certain this is all she does, day in and day out) once gave me a look that could kill because a tomato she had just put out didn't pass my quality standards and I put it back. Phew - my nerve!
Halfway through the produce section my phone rings once, twice, three times. It's my husband. I answer it thinking that there really must be an emergency for him to call so many times. "How's it goin'?" he casually asks. In the background it is chaos. The kids are screaming, the dog is barking and he sounds like he hasn't got a care in the world. "Is everything OK?! Are the kids hurt?" I ask. "When will you be home?" he says. "Why? Did someone get hurt?" He replies, "Nobody is hurt, but I don't know what they want." I look at my phone. It's 8:45. They were due to go to bed 15 minutes ago and my kids are BIG on schedules. "Ok, start getting them ready for bed, I'll be home soon."
I rush through the produce and frozen aisles, forgetting half of what I needed. During the rush, I notice a pile of sawdust and try to not let my mind think about what's under the sawdust, but immediately I think of the child in the paper goods aisle. I do my best to breathe through my nose and not gag. I go through the checkout line and exit into the dark parking lot, instantly becoming alert like a parking lot ninja. For some reason, the Basket's parking lot after dark is a breeding ground for weirdos. I stare down a man dressed as a woman and he/she thinks twice about approaching me after all. I head to my car, unload my groceries into the back and abandon my cart 2 feet from the car door. I will not walk past the druggies eating McDonalds in their car to drop my cart off. No thanks.
I get home just as the clock turns to 9pm. I walk in to what can only be described as the aftermath of D-Day. There are more dishes than I own stacked next to the sink. The freezer is slightly ajar. A thin layer of popcorn blankets 2/3 of the floor. A naked child comes running at me with chocolate smeared across her face screaming, "MOMMY!". My husband is nowhere to be seen.
I venture into the living room to find him parked on the couch with his laptop open in front of him. "Oh hey, you're back." I'm back, but where the hell have you been?! My husband can't be trusted with electronics. He has this problem with computers, televisions or anything else that uses electricity. When said objects are on and within an arms reach, the rest of the world ceases to exist.
I spend the rest of my night putting two kids on a sugar-high to bed, unpacking groceries and cleaning the complete destruction that has occurred during my hour-long grocery trip, vowing to be quicker next time. Maybe I'll buy pre-packaged deli meat. Maybe we'll stop eating bread or vegetables or milk.Maybe I'll take the kids with me. Sadly, I know I'll just repeat the process in 1-2 weeks when I finally cave and head to the grocery store again for a "break".
My local grocery store is the Basket and like anyone in New England knows, the Basket is basically THE social hangout of the century. They open at 7am, close at 9pm and are packed to at least twice the fire code every hour in between. I dutifully leave my house at 8pm on the appointed grocery shopping night and make my grueling 2.5 minute drive to the store.
That's when the fun begins.
To park at the Basket, you must possess the skills of a Nascar driver. You need catlike reflexes, better than 20/20 vision and a keen sense of adventure. I skillfully maneuver my SUV into the parking spot, avoiding children, seagulls and shopping carts while carefully staying within the yellow lines. I avoid the pretentious Mercedes who's rear tire is over the line straying into my newly acquired space while wondering why a person who has enough money to drive a new Mercedes would shop at the Basket. Perhaps their grocery savings has paid for their luxury whip? Who knows.
Once out of my car, it's like a game of Frogger to get to the front door. 2 steps forward, 1 step back. Dash behind a car that's backing out to get a shopping cart. Leave the safety of the concrete cart return (apparently people like to hit those, so they needed something more durable than plastic or metal) and then make a mad dash to the front. There will surely be someone blocking the ramp to the sidewalk with a car while waiting for their better (and smarter) half to appear with food. I shoot them a dirty look and squeeze my cart past their car, not really avoiding touching it, but making a face as if I care. I wave as I approach the automatic doors.
The door opens, though somewhat reluctantly and a wave of cool air washes over me. Ah, glorious air conditioning. In the winter, the grocery store offers warmth, while in the summer it offers AC. I prefer the summer, as in the winter the front is usually caked with dried salt, mud and other nasties from wet shoes tromping in and a certain lack of rugs. There's a container of disinfectant wipes near the door to wipe your cart handle, as if touching the wipes container to get one wouldn't give you Herpes. Please. The store is coated in nasty and I'm not dumb enough to believe a sanitary wipe is going to save me.
I head in and immediately wait in line. It seems that the display of weekly ads near the front door is always a hot-spot for locals to gather after grabbing their cup of sketchy complementary coffee. I am proud to say that although I live locally, I have not once swapped stories in front of the Basket's ad rack.
Once you move past the first obstacle, the store is ripe with others. Most smart shoppers immediately head to the deli line to get a ticket. It does not matter when you get to the store, there will be a line at the deli. I have gone at 8:45pm and I have gone just before 7am. There is always a line. Always. Without fail. If you pull a ticket and it's less than 20 from the current number being served, you feel this overwhelming sense of joy and luck as if God is personally giving you a high-five. Once, I went to the Basket and there were only a couple of people in front of me. I got a lottery ticket that day and won $2. It wasn't a coincidence.
You can tell who's new to the Basket by observing the deli counter. The newbies grab a ticket with a cart full of food and wait. The seasoned shoppers like myself know better. We grab a ticket with an empty cart and then head back to start our shopping, periodically checking in to see what progress has been made at the deli line. Usually, I can get the dairy and most of the aisles done before they get near enough to my number for me to wait, and remember - I go an hour before they close when it's not nearly as busy as it is during the day. I haven't figured out why there are only 4 meat slicers at the deli counter either - it seems that they would need at least 10 to reasonably keep up with the demand, but hey.
Shopping the aisles is an experience. You maneuver around pallets of food being re-stocked, abandoned carts, ladders and everything else you can think of. Some aisles are impassable. I weigh my options and decide that if I want ketchup that badly, I'll buy it at BJ's. Towards the end of the dry goods I start skipping aisles that are completely blocked with fatigued and confused shoppers that have given up on life. Inevitably, in the paper goods aisle there will be a child that has had an atomic poop and a parent that just doesn't give a shit, no pun intended. The kid will be wailing at 8:30 at night, the mom will look flustered and the dad will look irritated while he eats cookies. This is why I shop alone.
At this point I've been in the store roughly 30 minutes, maybe a little longer. My cell phone rings and it's my husband. I swipe the screen to ignore. He can deal with the kids a little bit longer, after all, this is my ME time, right? The phone rings again. He's mighty slow tonight... ignore.
After I make my deli order, I trek off to the produce section. All of the backtracking I've done to keep tabs on the deli line has added up to at least a mile of walking at this point, so wearing comfortable shoes is a MUST. At the produce department I always chuckle to myself and silently chastise the powers that be for staffing the produce department entirely with brown people. Seriously, old stereotypes persist in my town I guess. They seem happy enough, wearing green smocks, jaunty little hats and chattering away in Spanish. The woman that stocks the tomatoes (I am certain this is all she does, day in and day out) once gave me a look that could kill because a tomato she had just put out didn't pass my quality standards and I put it back. Phew - my nerve!
Halfway through the produce section my phone rings once, twice, three times. It's my husband. I answer it thinking that there really must be an emergency for him to call so many times. "How's it goin'?" he casually asks. In the background it is chaos. The kids are screaming, the dog is barking and he sounds like he hasn't got a care in the world. "Is everything OK?! Are the kids hurt?" I ask. "When will you be home?" he says. "Why? Did someone get hurt?" He replies, "Nobody is hurt, but I don't know what they want." I look at my phone. It's 8:45. They were due to go to bed 15 minutes ago and my kids are BIG on schedules. "Ok, start getting them ready for bed, I'll be home soon."
I rush through the produce and frozen aisles, forgetting half of what I needed. During the rush, I notice a pile of sawdust and try to not let my mind think about what's under the sawdust, but immediately I think of the child in the paper goods aisle. I do my best to breathe through my nose and not gag. I go through the checkout line and exit into the dark parking lot, instantly becoming alert like a parking lot ninja. For some reason, the Basket's parking lot after dark is a breeding ground for weirdos. I stare down a man dressed as a woman and he/she thinks twice about approaching me after all. I head to my car, unload my groceries into the back and abandon my cart 2 feet from the car door. I will not walk past the druggies eating McDonalds in their car to drop my cart off. No thanks.
I get home just as the clock turns to 9pm. I walk in to what can only be described as the aftermath of D-Day. There are more dishes than I own stacked next to the sink. The freezer is slightly ajar. A thin layer of popcorn blankets 2/3 of the floor. A naked child comes running at me with chocolate smeared across her face screaming, "MOMMY!". My husband is nowhere to be seen.
I venture into the living room to find him parked on the couch with his laptop open in front of him. "Oh hey, you're back." I'm back, but where the hell have you been?! My husband can't be trusted with electronics. He has this problem with computers, televisions or anything else that uses electricity. When said objects are on and within an arms reach, the rest of the world ceases to exist.
I spend the rest of my night putting two kids on a sugar-high to bed, unpacking groceries and cleaning the complete destruction that has occurred during my hour-long grocery trip, vowing to be quicker next time. Maybe I'll buy pre-packaged deli meat. Maybe we'll stop eating bread or vegetables or milk.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Recipe: Home Made Iced Mocha
Going to the coffee shop everyday is expensive. Like many other people, I enjoy getting my daily coffee fix, and in the summer I crave something that's both refreshing and cold.
That's where the lovely iced mocha comes in... this simple recipe will have you enjoying the sweet summertime treat any day you like. Best of all, it costs just pennies to prepare, which is a significant savings over the coffee shop!
Ingredients:
-Brewed Coffee, chilled
-Chocolate syrup
-Half and Half
-Sugar
-Ice
Directions:
This really can't be more simple. All you do is combine chilled brewed coffee (dump whatever is leftover from your morning pot into a pitcher in the fridge so you'll always have some on hand) with ice, then add in some of your kids' chocolate syrup. For some reason I find Nesquick works the best, then add some half and half and sugar. I suggest you use 1/2 the amount of sugar you would normally use because the chocolate syrup will sweeten it.
If you really want to get fancy, you can make some ice coffee ice cubes so that as your drink sits, the ice doesn't dilute it.
Another great tip is to add a dash of cinnamon to your sugar bowl. It will keep the ants out and add a tasty flavor component that will enhance your coffee's flavor. I'm not a cinnamon fan, but this is fantastic tasting.
That's all there is to it. You may find that your iced mocha seems different than the coffee shop - experiment with different strengths of coffee and try drinking it through a straw for the closest taste. Don't ask me why, but the straw makes a difference!
That's where the lovely iced mocha comes in... this simple recipe will have you enjoying the sweet summertime treat any day you like. Best of all, it costs just pennies to prepare, which is a significant savings over the coffee shop!
Ingredients:
-Brewed Coffee, chilled
-Chocolate syrup
-Half and Half
-Sugar
-Ice
Directions:
This really can't be more simple. All you do is combine chilled brewed coffee (dump whatever is leftover from your morning pot into a pitcher in the fridge so you'll always have some on hand) with ice, then add in some of your kids' chocolate syrup. For some reason I find Nesquick works the best, then add some half and half and sugar. I suggest you use 1/2 the amount of sugar you would normally use because the chocolate syrup will sweeten it.
If you really want to get fancy, you can make some ice coffee ice cubes so that as your drink sits, the ice doesn't dilute it.
Another great tip is to add a dash of cinnamon to your sugar bowl. It will keep the ants out and add a tasty flavor component that will enhance your coffee's flavor. I'm not a cinnamon fan, but this is fantastic tasting.
That's all there is to it. You may find that your iced mocha seems different than the coffee shop - experiment with different strengths of coffee and try drinking it through a straw for the closest taste. Don't ask me why, but the straw makes a difference!
Monday, August 5, 2013
Racism in America
Frankly, I'm getting sick of this Zimmerman nonsense. The trial was weeks ago and the verdict was reached by a jury of the man's peers. Just because you didn't like the verdict doesn't mean that the whole thing was some racist act that was forgiven by a jury of klan members.
I'm really REALLY getting sick of people screaming racism every time something doesn't go their way. It seems that the easy thing to do is always yell RACISM whenever a touchy subject comes up to avoid having a real honest to goodness discussion or talking about an unpleasant situation. Saying the R word is the easy way to get the opposition to shut up and to discredit anyone who doesn't think like you. It's a cowards way out, especially in a situation where you know it doesn't apply.
Like the Zimmerman case.
First of all, the "boy" was wearing a hoodie. I don't know about you, but I can't look at someone AT NIGHT while wearing A HOODIE and tell what race they are. If Zimmerman could, that means he has some kind of super powers and that my friends is impressive, not racist.
I hear people say things like oh, that racist was profiling Travon. You're damn right he was - if you lived in a neighborhood where houses were being broken into and you saw what you assumed was a grown man hopping a fence at night while wearing a hoodie, you'd probably peg them as a potential burglar. Do you know why? Because nice people that are trying to follow the law don't jump fences at night while wearing hoodies.
But it was raining!
Anyone who's ever worn a cotton hoodie in the rain knows they don't actually protect you from the rain. The function of the hood is purely fashion. Your face still gets wet and the damn thing soaks through faster than you can say monsoon season. The only point of wearing the actual hood on a hoodie is to either attempt to conceal your identity or fit in with whatever fashion trend you think is popular at the time. If it's raining and you wish to prevent the rain from getting on you, you carry an umbrella, use a book, a newspaper or pretty much anything else you have handy.
Also, it's hard to jump fences in the rain. Just sayin'. If it was raining so dang hard that Travon needed a hoodie for whatever measly protection it would provide, it would have been easier, safer and dryer to walk around the fence.
But back to my point - people need to stop crying racism every time something happens and the two people involved happen to be of different races. It's not always a racist situation. Sometimes it really is what it seems to be with no ulterior racist motivations. Amazing right?
So here's what I think we should do to squelch all the race-baiting going on right now. Stop talking about it. Amazing, right? Instead of labeling "them" and "us" or talking about the "black community" or about "white privilege", lets knock out any type of race-related advantage or disqualifier (yes, this includes affirmative action) and lets stop using terms that divide rather than unite the country. We are not part of the black community or the white community - we're part of the American community. One nation. Undivided. With liberty and justice FOR ALL.
I'm really REALLY getting sick of people screaming racism every time something doesn't go their way. It seems that the easy thing to do is always yell RACISM whenever a touchy subject comes up to avoid having a real honest to goodness discussion or talking about an unpleasant situation. Saying the R word is the easy way to get the opposition to shut up and to discredit anyone who doesn't think like you. It's a cowards way out, especially in a situation where you know it doesn't apply.
Like the Zimmerman case.
First of all, the "boy" was wearing a hoodie. I don't know about you, but I can't look at someone AT NIGHT while wearing A HOODIE and tell what race they are. If Zimmerman could, that means he has some kind of super powers and that my friends is impressive, not racist.
I hear people say things like oh, that racist was profiling Travon. You're damn right he was - if you lived in a neighborhood where houses were being broken into and you saw what you assumed was a grown man hopping a fence at night while wearing a hoodie, you'd probably peg them as a potential burglar. Do you know why? Because nice people that are trying to follow the law don't jump fences at night while wearing hoodies.
But it was raining!
Anyone who's ever worn a cotton hoodie in the rain knows they don't actually protect you from the rain. The function of the hood is purely fashion. Your face still gets wet and the damn thing soaks through faster than you can say monsoon season. The only point of wearing the actual hood on a hoodie is to either attempt to conceal your identity or fit in with whatever fashion trend you think is popular at the time. If it's raining and you wish to prevent the rain from getting on you, you carry an umbrella, use a book, a newspaper or pretty much anything else you have handy.
Also, it's hard to jump fences in the rain. Just sayin'. If it was raining so dang hard that Travon needed a hoodie for whatever measly protection it would provide, it would have been easier, safer and dryer to walk around the fence.
But back to my point - people need to stop crying racism every time something happens and the two people involved happen to be of different races. It's not always a racist situation. Sometimes it really is what it seems to be with no ulterior racist motivations. Amazing right?
So here's what I think we should do to squelch all the race-baiting going on right now. Stop talking about it. Amazing, right? Instead of labeling "them" and "us" or talking about the "black community" or about "white privilege", lets knock out any type of race-related advantage or disqualifier (yes, this includes affirmative action) and lets stop using terms that divide rather than unite the country. We are not part of the black community or the white community - we're part of the American community. One nation. Undivided. With liberty and justice FOR ALL.
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