This year, though, I’m back at it. I never liked how the old bars turned out, and really wanted to make something more cookie-shaped. I had an idea (Finally! Time for daydreaming again!) that perhaps these filled cookies could be made using a ravioli mold.

Guess what Bed, Bath and Beyond doesn’t have? A ravioli mold. Garrr! Back to using multi-taskers instead of a uni-tasker! A rolling pin and pizza cutter would have to do.

So, in the interest of documentation: Chop up some dried apricots.

Cook them on the stove with some liquid (I used apple juice because it was handy) until they are reconstituted. Then blenderize with the stick blender and realize that you didn’t have to be so nit-picky about how finely chopped they were.

Oh, yeah, you should have mixed up a batch of oatmeal cookie dough and put in in the fridge to chill. Throw in some extra oats for Quaker-like goodness.

Now here’s where I considered naming these ‘Waste Of Parchment Paper’ cookies. Looking back, this could have been done differently, but it is what it is. Rip off a ginormous strip of paper and put some dough near the middle. I scooped out the dough with an ice cream scoop, but only so I could use the same amount for both layers.

Fold the parchment over the dough and start to roll it out. Then put a slightly dampened towel under the parchment so it doesn’t slide all over as you roll it out. This will cut down on the cursing.

Put this batch aside and do that whole process again for the other layer, using even more parchment paper. *sigh* You’re killing the earth with your baking, Lauren.

Now, grab the cooled apricot goo and parcel it out on the bottom layer. I used about…. 1/2 teaspoon for each cookie? I don’t know. This is where I told Lloyd, “If I ever wrote a cookbook it would be titled I don’t know….. some?”

Ok, now good luck with this next part. Flip the second layer of dough on top and smush it down around the goo, like you’re making ravioli – which I’ve never done before.

Here’s where I’d like to point out a mistake. I tried to preserve the rounded-ness of the goo while pressing the dough together, but it actually would have made the finished product turn out better if I would have mashed it down a little flatter before sealing. You’ll see at the end. This is when I told Lloyd, “I am never making these for you again. This is too much stupid work.” He sighed and said, “I know.”

Good grief! This post is going on forever! Let’s cut to the chase: After sealing, use a pizza cutter to cut them apart, then put them in some airtight containers and freeze them. I tried to redeem my wastefulness by separating them with some of that parchment paper.

When you need cookies, bake at 350 for…. 12 minutes? Maybe it was 14. I forget. Let them thaw a little before you bake them because that frozen goo is going to mess up the center of that cookie. See? They’re a little less brown in the middle. Bleh.

Dang. I really should have flattened them first.

If all goes according to plan, I can bake 5 of them on Sunday evenings and have a guilt-free week. At least for the next 28 school days, and after that I’m buying granola bars.

The stool that I sit on every second that I’m home when I use the computer has thoroughly scratched up the floor underneath it. The floors around here are all scratched up anyway, but this was getting ridiculous. I’ve tried those stick-on chair pads, but they keep falling off. Long ago we tried the nail-on kind, and guess what happens when one of those falls off? You have a nailhead that sticks out of the chair leg and really scratches your floor.

Back to the stealing. I saw these chair socks and thought they were the cutest thing ever. While I don’t want to shell out the money for those, I’m not above spending a few bucks for for some cheap-o baby socks.

They’re working out splendidly, though I have to pull them up every so often – just like my regular socks.

It’s construction should be exceedingly simple: a regular pie, but with some fantastically complementary second flavor stashed under a secret bottom crust, like so:

The problems were insurmountable, though. I either didn’t have time to goof around with it, or had the time but was too tired to try. This weekend, though, I had some time and was conscious. The problem – no pie stuff. I decided to make do and try a test run – a peach pie (made with canned peaches) with a brown sugar and cinnamon pop-tart-style bottom. It didn’t matter what it would taste like, since I wasn’t going to eat it. Peach pie = yuck. This was purely for science.

So, parts assembled: Pie crust made – check. Canned peaches turned into semblance of filling – check. Brown sugar & cinnamon mixed – check. Sandwiched in bottom layer – check.

This test was made in a cereal bowl because you only get two peaches in one can, and that won’t fill a pie pan. The crust was ugly and made in typical fold-over fashion.

Bake bake bake. Cool cool cool. Slice slice.

GROSS!

It’s a good thing I didn’t have my heart set on eating this, because you know what I had? A peach pie with a layer of raw dough in the middle. Blechh! I almost barfed just looking at it.

So, if I ever give this a second go – or if you want to give this a go and just send me a picture so I can pretend I did it – this would have to involve some sort of ‘blind-baking’ of the crust (to keep all layers crispy) and then filling it with some no-bake style pie. I’m thinking a Nutella pop-tart with a French Silk filling sounds good, but I’m sure not going to get around to doing it.

That’s right – I said bunions. Stupid knobbly feet that prevent me from wearing cute shoes. Stupid nerves getting pinched.

As long as I’m whining about shoes, lets complain about socks as well. I bought a pair of ‘no show’ socks, and honestly – they show all over the place. I’m not overly fond of wearing shoes without socks, so tomorrow I’m trying a new invention: Homemade insoles/liners that sit (and stay) inside the shoe like a no-show sock, made from a piece of 47-cent felt. They’re crazy long so they go around the back of my heels and over the toes a little. Hopefully walking around won’t make them bunch up into a ball in the middle.

If this works out, I’ll go global with it and share my millions with you – my three loyal readers.

Let me tell you of a Friday morning experiment. Because I no longer have unique ideas of my own, I am reduced to copying others. Megan at notmartha.org (as I’ve said before) is living the life I’m meant to live: she’s younger, more creative, travels the world, and takes much, much better photos.

Megan made chocolate surprise eggs by melting chocolate and pouring it into clean, hollowed, dyed eggshells. I wanted to take a stab at it, but in my typical rushed, non-direction-following, lots-of-room-for-expected-error way.

The beginning went well. Eggs drained, boiled, and plopped into dye.

I was having fun with the egg-drying photos. I took one from below for an ‘art-shot’ and realized with horror that I have never, ever looked at the bottom of my upper cabinets. Note to murderers: When cleaning up the crime scene, get the underside of the cupboards.

This one is taken after a quick swipe with a washcloth.

I came back to the eggs after running some errands, and here’s where the breakdown occurred. I’m too impatient, and let’s just say – if you want to temper chocolate, you should actually follow the directions. Not me – rush, rush! Melt! Melt! Throw in some chocolate chips – it’ll be fine.

I got to the fun part of loading the eggs. I had in mind to make giant ‘Reece’s peanut-butter cup’ eggs -thick dark chocolate shell, peanut butter candy inside, mmmmm.

However, after waiting around 45 minutes the chocolate still hadn’t set up, so I gave it up for a loss. Not a sad loss, though – I haven’t messed around on a kitchen project in ages, and it felt good. I tossed the eggs in the trash, poured the rest of the chocolate on the peanut butter candy, and we left for Omaha.

Coming back today, I noticed the chocolate on the candy was firm.

Hmmmmmm….. I dug in the trash.

Crack. Crack. Peel. Peel.

Relax, I didn’t eat it, but I did sigh heavily. As it turns out, it had hardened, but didn’t really have the *snap* of good chocolate.

Maybe next Easter I’ll do it right.

*snickner* Who’s kiddin’ who?

I’ve been to Scheel’s sporting supply and have seen these cool roll-up pillows filled with scrap foam that roll up into a little bag/pocket. “I could make that,” I thought.

Ummm, not really. Yes, I had foam. Yes, I had fabric. (Remember those napkins that I made? Turns out the fabric is slightly less absorbent than plastic wrap.) Chop, chop, sew sew. Re-chop. Sew. Dang. I started with foam pieces about as big as marshmallows, but they were too lumpy. I cut them into mini-marshmallow sizes, but didn’t have enough to fill it really full. I could have cut more, but I was already bored with it. The five-minute project turned into a twenty-minute project, and I was done by minute eighteen.

Bonus: When I rolled it into the handy pocket (that goes the wrong way), Lloyd said, “Oh. I see that it’s the same size either way.”

Whatever. I’m set for a nap at any moment.

Go!

Lloyd made a survey for the middle schoolers to fill out that gave them four choices for his hair, and four for his beard. The hair part I’ll still keep secret, but of Abraham Lincoln, Wolverine, Fu Manchu, or goatee – they chose Wolverine. He decided to ease into the look with the Abraham beard, but now he’s fully committed. (He can’t get his hair cut because he always comes home after Bob the Barber closes.)

Y’know, if someone had told me as a young girl that part of marriage would be to look up images of an X-Men hero on my laptop in the bathroom while my husband shaves off part of his beard and then make a slashed-up tie for him to wear, I never would have believed them.

Best. Marriage. Ever.

Six of them will fit inside one canister (if you smush down the edges of the bottom three) and a trimmed book of matches fits on the side. But to what end? This would be a terrible emergency car kit because for certain I’d forget about it and in summer it would be a can of melted wax and pieces of string to small to use. It’s magnetic, so I guess it could live on the fridge for a…… romantic lighting emergency?

Oh, well. It’s enough that it made a post for today.

According to the internet recipe, I had everything else – a 2-liter bottle, yeast, water and the all-important azucar. My internet guy said, “1 cup of sugar, 1/4 teaspoon of yeast, 1 tablespoon of root beer extract, fill with water, swirl to dissolve, cap, let sit around 3-4 days to carbonate.” He also said that 1 cup of sugar was too much, so I used less.

That was my first mistake.

My second mistake was thinking that I could wait 3-4 days for an experiment to be done. I opened it on day 2 to some disappointing non-fizziness.

I made Lloyd drink some first.

Lloyd: “Bleh. What’s wrong with this?”

Me: “I didn’t use the whole amount of sugar.”

Lloyd: “Savory root beer? Good grief.”

I took a swallow, well aware that the recipe guy said that ‘real root beer should have a heady, yeasty flavor’

Me: “Achk! It smells like feet.” It also tasted like feet, but don’t hold me to that – the last time I tasted feet I was in first grade and had some bizarre hygiene rituals.

I tried to remedy it by pouring some sugar into the bottle, which only led to a re-enactment of the Diet Coke & Mentos phenomenon. (The camera was out of memory space, though, so I’ll only have Lloyd’s laughter to remember it by.)

Bottom line: Cough up money for A&W. It’s totally worth it.

That led, or so I’m told, to needing some new furniture in the living room to house said purchases. Fortunately, this was accomplished with some re-purposing rather than purchasing. Unfortunately, the bookshelf didn’t have holes for cables, so we just put the cable box and DVD player on the floor under the shelf. This worked, but we had to aim the remote over the trunk, and that became annoying quickly.

Lauren had an extra shelf in the basement (I know, don’t ask me) and rather than drill holes for supports we managed to find some of those yellow cylindrical blocks to hold one shelf above the other. I took a Dremel to the back on the bookcase. It was literally like cutting through cardboard; mostly because it was literally cutting through cardboard. Nothing but the best for us.

I remember telling someone five or six years ago that I never wanted to be the kind of person who spends $2,500.00 on a television. It turns out that I don’t mind being the kind of person who spends $550.00 on a television. That’s probably about what we spent on our last one 15 years ago. Hmmm, we might have spent less on this one after adjusting for inflation (which I like to do in my spare time).

Lloyd and I do our grocery shopping on Sundays, and usually buy the exact same things every week. We really don’t need to have a list, but there have been the occasional head-slapping moments upon returning home when I realize I forgot to buy sugar, or that we’ve brought home yet another box of butter to add to the three boxes already in the freezer.

I must admit, this list isn’t complete, but it’s a good start. We circle the store (Wal-Mart), starting at toiletries, moving to house stuff (light bulbs/repair stuff), then over to groceries – like clockwork every week. I’m sure after the first time we actually remember to take it along to the store use it we’ll realize that it needs more blank spaces for fill-ins. I must admit, I was more excited to choose the fonts and make them silly.

I had a bad day. No details, thank you, but the only thing that kept me going was the thought of making a homemade alcohol heater when I got home.

If you try this at home, kids, don’t blame me for any damage, alright?

I read a couple of tutorials on the subject of emergency heat. Ever since my friend Kate lost her power over Christmas I’ve been secretly hoping we’ll lose ours wondering what we would do in the same situation. I’ve got my trusty candle heater and snowsuit, but what else could there be? Short of ripping a hole in our roof and installing a wood stove (which I really, really want to do), this seemed the safest, least-carbon-monoxide-emitting way to go.

Basically, you take the middle out of a roll of toilet paper. You put the de-middled roll in a small metal coffee can. (I only had a tiny green bean can, hence the cutting of a half-used-up roll. The t.p. should be shorter than the can.) The you pour 70% or 91% isopropyl (rubbing) alcohol on it until it soaks it up and is no longer dry (you can use a little more), then…….(drum roll)….. light it on fire!!! The t.p. is a wick, and burns the alcohol. There are some things to know, but I certainly won’t remember them. Check here if you’re interested.

My camera didn’t show the fire terribly well, so no ‘after’ shot. I was impressed with the flames (they’re hard to see – so be careful), but a bit disappointed in the heat output. Apparently this will keep you alive in your car, but good luck not setting your car on fire, I say.

I think it may need modification…… like a giant Kandle Heater thingie!!!

It would be cool, and more eco-friendly, to have a tiny, deep bathtub like a Japanese soaking tub, but I’m certainly not going to buy one. I was thinking of how to perhaps prototype one out of a Rubbermaid tub or something, then the ol’ meandering brain started to think that a really tall tub that conformed more to a person’s shape would be cool, and use even less water.

The solution? A spacesuit, filled with hot water! Genius, eh? I bet that would just use a gallon or two of water, and I could refill it from a tea kettle!

What’s the web address for the patent office?

It can also be left out at room temperature without going bad, which means that it’s been sitting, unused, on my counter for a month or so. I’ll never get around to using it, and I didn’t want to just throw it out, so I decided to set it on fire.

Every good pyromaniac has a set of wicks lying around, so I snipped off some, dipped it in a little microwave-melted ghee, then poked a hole in the jar to put the wick in.

Turns out that was unnecessary. Ghee has the consistency of Crisco, so I pushed in my wick and found out it was too long. You know what’s not real smart? Cutting a wick with a paring knife while your fingers are all buttery. (I’m ok, but it was close.)

Ok – wick shortened, time to light! I picked a long match so I could take a photo. You know what else is not real smart? Taking a photo when your fingers are all buttery.

Hey, you know what else isn’t smart? Making a candle out of ghee and trying to light it with a match. It has a high smoke point. It resists catching on fire. I had to lay two matches down on the wick to get it going.

Once going, though, it was beautiful.

Until the wick fell over and it died.

I’m done, unless I want to go all pioneer and wrap some cloth around a metal button and use that for a wick. Oh, fire – I love you so.

So, Quiana, I’m really sorry that you went to Japan and saw a real kotatsu table in action, because this post is going to be really, really embarrassing.

We all know I like to dabble, right? That I like to experience things in the fastest, cheapest, least-effort-expended way possible, right? Well, last winter I came across articles about kotatsu tables, low Japanese tables heated from underneath (by coals or an electrical source), then covered by a comforter to keep the heat in. Apparently central heating is iffy in Japan (really?), so this would be where families would gather during chilly evenings, their legs bathed in cozy warmth.

I am all about that! Chilly evenings are Experiment Central around here! Lloyd nixed the coal idea (some ‘safety’ issue), and I knew that using a heat lamp would just result in cut-up knees for me, so that left using a heat panel. Cozy Winters makes one, but it’s too pricey for something to just goof around with.

Enter the surplus auction from a couple of weeks ago. Woo-hoo!! They had one, and Lloyd got it for two bucks!!! On Monday night I had a free half hour between sitcoms (Yay for new television being on!), so I cobbled together a terrible table out of some particle board, three pieces of closet rod,a piece of stair railing and four almost-too-short screws. (Why do I have a piece of stair railing? Anyone? Anyone?)

It is wobbly, dangerous, and deliciously warm. Bring on the cold!

While pants shopping on Saturday, we came across the clearance linens at Younkers.

“We need more napkins,” Lloyd said.

“These are too expensive,” I said.

“They’re a dollar each,” he said.

“I can make them for less,” I said.

“But you won’t,” he said.

Oh, yeah?

Oh, yeah?

Fortunately, this cloth came with pre-drawn squares, so there was none of that pesky ‘measuring’ business.

There will be no actual sewing pictures, or you’d have to see my freakishly vein-y hands.

There was no pattern, and I kind of messed up the corners, but these things are for wiping pizza off my face, so who really cares, right?

So there you have it. They’re done, but that’s an hour and a half of my life I’ll never get back – though I did get to watch Bridezillas while working on them.

We should have just bought the dumb napkins. (But don’t tell Lloyd that.)

So here’s the first prototype. It’s not actually the first design, since I was completely prepared to just drill through the L-brackets into the floor – right through the carpet and padding. I knew full well the screws would probably bind up, but the thing would be sturdy as heck.

But no – Lloyd saw me carry the wood, drill and L-brackets up from the basement through the dining room. Drat his sneaky eyes and his concern for resale value.

“Sheesh. What are you doing?” he sighed.

“Um….. laundry?”

Drat. Drat. Drat. He helped me carry stuff upstairs, talked me down from my instance on floor anchoring, and we tried a few different, yet less good, configurations. We settled on making an upside-down ‘T’. Part of it goes under the bed, the other part is the ‘floor’ for the L-brackets.

Now we have something to rest our feet on when we’ve slid down, so it’s a little like standing in bed.

Maybe sometime we’ll make a ‘pretty’ version – perhaps something more bench-like with proper in-floor support – but it’ll do for now.

It’s a miracle! From little seeds on my windowsill to something that will aggravate my stomach but be so, so worth it.

There’s one that might be ripe enough to taste tomorrow, and another closely behind. Hopefully they won’t taste like compost and old rainwater, but hey – I’ll take what I can get.

They’re doing much better than the cucumbers, which have produced one edible specimen and one that looks like a balloon that a wheezy grandpa gave up trying to inflate. I guess making that gigantic ladder was a bit of wishful thinking, eh?

Rabbits ate all the lettuce. I’m not too upset about it, because it wasn’t very good lettuce in the first place. If rabbits are satisfied with sub-par greens, more power to ‘em, I say.

The cucumbers are growing profusely. Brad said that I had to decide if I wanted them to grow sideways and smother the flowers, or out into the lawn. I rejected both of his offers and chose …. up! I hastily made a cucumber ladder.

It’s leaning against the window because we want to get new windows. One good break ought to put the fire under our behinds, right?

Timeout here for an explanation about the green boards. When we were in Missouri, Sam asked us what was the deal with our green cinder blocks. Well, when Lloyd and I were poor and living out in Maryland, we made some simple brick-and-board shelves to hold Lloyd’s giant library of books. When we moved to Seward and bought a house, we classed up our book storage by painting the components green. Spiffy, huh? Well, now that we have other shelves the blocks and boards are finding themselves reused in several ways. Don’t you feel edified now?

Back to the produce. I have two baby tomatoes!! Hooray!! That might be all I get from this experiment, but I’m calling it a success at this point.