The complicated toaster and the people who use them

My mom bought us a new toaster for Christmas. When I opened it, I told her it felt like I was getting married. Toasters are soooo Bridal Shower, aren't they? Along with the blender. 

So we set up the toaster today, my husband and I, like newlyweds + the background of kids screaming for their dinner, and I figured I could just plug it in, stick in a frozen waffle and the kids would be nourished. Looks like these items have gotten high tech and come with directions - aka a 10-page user manual that actually contains four (4) lined pages for "notes."

Like I'm at a toaster convention and I need to jot down the best setting for my pumpernickel.

So for shits and giggles, I read it outloud starting with Step 1: remove the toaster from the packaging.

It reminded me of when my mom told me that newspapers are written at a 5th grade level. Toaster manuals are written for people who time traveled here from the year 1620.

I think we can safely assume that if you managed to pull out the directions from where they were hiding, chances are you've already taken the toaster out of the box.

Engrossed in all the different possible toast-concoctions and completely ignoring my kids pleads for food, I went straight to Frequently Asked Questions. 

A memorizing array of choices ...

I have a FAQ! Do you really think anyone is taking notes on your toaster? And you omitted the toast instructions for pumpernickel!

FAQ 1: My toast isn't toasting? Answer: have you checked to make sure the toaster is plugged in? Have you pressed down the lever? Have you taken the toaster out of the box?

FAQ 2: I like to spread my toast with peanut butter and then pop it in the toaster to melt a little. Is this okay? Answer: No. You are the reason offices have banned toasters from the tiny office kitchen. You are probably the same person who steals other peoples yogurt from the communal fridge.

The fact that this made it to the FAQ #2 spot right ahead of "what do I do now, my bread is jammed in the toaster!?" frightens me on the state of toaster-users across America. If you want to melt your PB that's what a microwave oven is for.

Now that's a manual I need to get my hands on!

Festivus!

It's Festivus and time for the the annual "Airing of Grievences!"

via cdn2.sbnation.com

 Now my airing of grievances -- surprise surprise -- could last all week and while so many do deal with my dear relatives, I decided to focus on one particular Grievence, not involving a "near & dear", of which I shall Air on this blog post.

Dear former Dentist,

Thank you for taking care of my teeth for the past 12 years and for selling your practice to a new dentist who gave me the heebie jeebies which sent me out in search of a new dentist. This new dentist was shocked that I had so many of my mercury fillings from grade school (ahem, 30 year old fillings) still in my mouth and took pictures showing all the decay around them. She also noticed a lot of other things ...

So thank you for doing such a bang-up job on my teeth these last 10 years when I had superb dental insurance, such as letting my teeth decay under 30 year old fillings. Now I have to have them all replaced under our new dental insurance that acts like it's a 10% off coupon.

Thank you and have a happy Festivus,

Unhappy smile

Am I in the wrong for being totally pissed off?  When a dentist tells you, "You're teeth look great!" you walk out with a skip in your step that you don't have to go back until 6 months later. When they do a filling, it gets done and you don't know if they failed to remove a mercury filling a millimeter away -- as my new dentist said, "You're tooth was numb, why not just remove the old filling?"

Grrr. Happy Festivus to you all!

She's at it again

I know I am insanely late with this, but I'm just now watching episodes of Project Runway from 3 years ago when I was too busy hallucinating on baby powder & prenatal vitamins, so cut me some slack.

When I saw this picture of Bethanny Frankel on FB eons ago --told you I was insanely late...eons! -- I immediately forwarded it to my playgroup friends with the title, "She's at it again!"

They understood what I meant because just a few days earlier, we were talking about Post Partum depression: who of us had it, how bad we had it, and what we think caused it. We all listed the usual reasons

• no sleep
• the shock of becoming a parent and the lifestyle change
• being at home all day alone
• a hard labor and even harder recovery
• trouble nursing
• trouble everything! 

But always one to crack a joke, I had one thing on my list that wasn't on anyone else's:

• Bethanny Frankel.

Her show on Bravo Lifetime cable channel I no longer have was airing while I was on maternity leave. This was her new show sans the other NY "Housewives" (of which none were actually housewives having watched the show in my pre-baby life), where she was married to some dude (not the same one from Housewives, pretty sure) and had a baby girl.

I will admit, in her defense (not that she needs it),  she wasn't 100% responsible for my post-partum sanity, but her TV show should have had a major disclaimer in NEON that advised new moms with babies under 3 months to change the station unless you intend to buy a new TV set because you will throw the remote at the screen.

It was in the middle of the afternoon when infants are supposed to be sleeping yet mine never did (again, I had trouble with everything) so I plopped myself on the couch, in the middle of a crazy messy house, with a crying baby, in a zombie-state induced by sleeping in 25-minute intervals, and I clicked on the TV. Bethany appeared, she had a new baby, I was intrigued. "Someone is going through what I am!" I cried (did I mention I was lonely?). "Maybe we can bond over the hardship of new motherhood?"

So I watched.

...a baby cries in the night. Bethanny sleeps on. The lights turn on and a night nurse gently wakes mom to nurse the baby. She does. When she finishes, the baby is put back in the arms of the night nurse and is whisked away. Our protagonist rolls over and goes back to sleep...

I'm not sure if I remember anything else because I think I blacked out. Or smashed the TV with the handle from the baby bouncer (or maybe I lifted that infernal baby swing over my head and crashed it down on top of the TV ... I just forget).

Night nurse? There are such things as night nurses?! Are they only for the Rich&Famous? What I would give to have a night nurse!!  An arm? My liver? Take them! Just give me that lady!!

Not this Night Nurse!!

via http://www.toonopedia.com/nightnrs.htm

 Alas, she wouldn't accept my kidney as payment and I was stuck doing all the work myself and getting no sleep. So every time I see Bethanny, I just think about how sad I felt and how envious I was of her night nurse. 

Seeing this picture ... I don't feel sad or envious anymore.

Recipe failure: Scones

If only I took a photo of each and every food failure I've stirred, sautéed, and sieved through, I'd have a coffee table book with my face and SUCKER written on the cover.

So why do I keep going back to random food blogs instead of my tried & true recipe books -- you know, the ones that had their recipes tested about 7 times before it got published? Because ... Food blogs are cool and so many of them have gorgeous photos, it's easy to get sucked in. They're like bad dates. You know the ones. You're 6th sense says to drop him, but you're bored (and hungry) and he's just that cute. So you call him, go to dinner, and erase his number from your phone in the lonely cab ride home after he spent the entire night talking about how much money he'll be making "one of these days" and isn't he so sophisticated because he drinks Manhattans and "wait did I tell you that story about my ex?" (Yes, I am describing my life before marriage & kids).

When I found this recipe to these gorgeous scones, I couldn't resist running to the store to buy everything. Juicey plump scones smothered in lemon icing just like the kind old Lazy Janes makes back in Madison. 

Blackberries aren't to be found this time of year so I subbed raspberries. So sue me. Does this mean I deserve what I got? I'm just a lady looking for some love -- scone-style love.

Their scones: sinfully delectable

My scones: what sin did I commit to end up with these?