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The universe is a tease

16 May

I got some sad news on Friday.  Yes, Friday.  The 13th.  I should have known it was coming.

Remember my beloved spoon spatulas?  The ones that work so perfectly for Jade, but which were discontinued?  The ones I found on an online store in Alberta?

You can see it coming can’t you?

Yes, the store realized, with my order, that those spatulas have been discontinued and that they can’t supply them.

Excuse me for a moment while I turn my head and sob just a little.  (Or perhaps I should press the back of my hand to my forehead.  That’s more dramatic, maybe?)

Earlier in the week, I got a surprise package in the mail, from a spatula fairly who turned out to be my dad.  It’s the new style of Danesco spoon spatula.  And while it is certainly a very superior spatula, it won’t work well for Jade because the leading edge is far too wide to fit into her mouth.

Of the treasure trove my mother-in-law sent, my runner-up favourite is the blue one from Home Sense.  Its only drawback is that it’s not as deeply scooped, so some things (like Jade’s Almond Breeze drink) tend to run off.  The black Lee Valley ones have wonderfully thin edges, but aren’t scooped at all.

My next desperate plan might be to buy food-grade silicone and a belly casting kit and attempt to recreate the Danesco ones, myself.  (Just imagine how much trial and error that would entail.)

So, bloggy peeps, do me a favour, please?  On your travels through stores that sell kitchen paraphernalia, be on the lookout for a spatula with the following properties:

  1. Softish head material, like silicone or rubber (though the handle can be made of any material)
  2. Very fine edges
  3. Scooped shape for retaining ingredients without dribbling off the opposite side
  4. Narrow scraping end to fit into Jade’s little 5-year-old mouth.  Jade’s Danesco spatulas are 1 inch wide at the bottom and widen to 1-3/4″ in the middle.
You wouldn’t think that would be such a tall order would you?
But anyway, if you can’t locate my favourite spatulas, would you please help me in sending the universe a message that it shouldn’t be such a tease?

The saga of the spoon spatulas

21 Apr

A gripping tale of love and loss

If you’ve been reading here for any length of time, you know that my eldest daughter Jade has epilepsy, and that anti-seizure medications failed her, and that her seizure disorder is now wonderfully controlled with a very strict ketogenic diet.

And in case you’re new around here, I mean strict.

Keto is so strict, every ingredient of every meal has to be measured down the tenth of a gram, and every calorie Jade ingests is calculated.  In case you don’t have a perspective on one tenth of a gram (and why would you?) that’s about two drops of olive oil.  (Which contains a whole calorie, by the way.)

Jade gives new meaning to the phrase “clean your plate”.  At the end of each of Jade’s meals, we use a spatula to carefully scrape every last drop of precious oil from her various bowls and utensils.  It’s the fat that really controls her seizures, so we don’t want to miss any.

We tried out various spatulas to varying degrees of success, but it was my sister-in-law Lindsay who introduced me to my all-time favourite: a Danesco spoon spatula.  Made of silicone, with paper thin edges, this spatula outdid every other for scooping up every little drop.

I loved it so much, Lindsay let me keep hers.  When I came back to Whitehorse, I joyfully discovered that one local shop (Coffee, Tea & Spice) sold the same spatulas, and I scooped up two more.  Now I had one for each meal!   If I could only get one for each of her two snacks, I could go through a whole day without having to wash a spatula.

But then… disaster.  The clerk at Coffee, Tea & Spice told me that Danesco had stopped making those spoon spatulas, so they couldn’t order any more.  I scoured the Internet for them, to no avail.  No store carried these spatulas, and they weren’t even listed on the Danesco website.  I found similar ones and ordered them, only to be devastatingly disappointed.

Knowing I had come in several times looking for the spatulas, and knowing why I wanted then, the clerk at Coffee, Tea & Spice gave me the one she’d taken home for herself.  And she wouldn’t even let me pay for it.  Seriously, how completely generous is that?

Now we were up to four.  And my new friend Dorothy was visiting one day with her baby boy and she mentioned that the previous tenants of an apartment they’d moved into had left that very same kind of spatula behind.  And her son was using it as a teething toy.  (Horrors!)  About a week later, though, she dropped the spatula off to me, saying there were other teething toys her son could use.

Hurrah, we were finally up to five!  I revelled in my spoontula wealth.

Then, as seems to be the case whenever one’s star flies too high, disaster fell again!

The edges of the silicone spatulas are pretty soft.  First a little divot appeared on the side of the green one.  Then a tear on the leading edge of a red one.  Oh no!  I used a knife to cut off the end of the spatula at an angle.  It wasn’t as flexible as before, but it worked better than the torn edge.  Then the other red one got a tear, too.

We have at least 18 months, maybe longer, left on the keto diet.  I wondered if we had enough spatulas to make it through.

Knowing my spatula woes, my wonderful mother-in-law Marian had been collecting promising-looking spatulas whenever she came across one.  Yesterday I opened a surprise package that had arrived in the mail, and in it was a whole array of new spatulas to try out!

Coincidentally, I opened the Easter box my mother had sent, and it also contained a spatula.  So much possibility and promise.  A spatula blog post was definitely in order.

After I’d transferred this photo, I realized I hadn’t taken a picture of my favourite Danesco spatulas.  So I Googled them.

Guess what?  I found a website for a store in ALBERTA (meaning in Canadian dollars, yo!) selling my precious spoon spatulas.

I bought 6.

(I’m warning anyone who washes my dishes to keep the knives and forks far, far away from my precious, fragile spoontulas.)

(And thanks mom and Marian!)

Spammy goodness

12 Mar

Shortly before Valentine’s Day, Jen of Jentography wrote a post called Spam Love, in which she transformed some of her spam comments into beautiful Valentine’s greetings.

I happened to look through my spam folder today, and inspired by her post, I wanted to share a couple with you.  I won’t share them as artfully as she did, but let the words speak for themselves.

“When I firstly saw your web, I’ve been around in many pages that I’ll use to get my final assignment. I googling with my short idea in my brain, and then I met with useful article. I hope you can give several advices to me, because your knowledge is great, it can help many students to get great score in every task or project.”

Would you believe this person went on for at least 15 more sentences?  I believe, sir, it’s not just a short idea in your brain that you have.

However, this, by far, was the pearl of the day:

“I could not rely upon my eyes that I gave up so in all likelihood deceived. When we arrived at the direct it turned manifest that nothing in the flier was no dash to reality. All of the rooms, and ordered them together seven, were in disarray. Unbiased the bed linen not changed flourishing our arrival. We got at most a niggardly dinner and we were told to split up the rooms. I slow favourite do not hold how pissed away the authentication he was my husband. He alongside does not like to aside harmonize to pieces anywhere, and in no notwithstanding at all I managed to cull him dated on sabbatical this happened to us such a setback. It’s so frustrating that as done as we wanted to dawdle with friends, a abstain equal on all and virtuous tone down, we had to work on these scammers. I common-sense of apologetic after most of this, that our children intent invite nothing to do. They array be bored, and in compliance it is known that something armor. It annoys me that it literatim could not crack the promised things, because cipher of us like de factoring did not remember what he says. It turned out that a issue could serve to higgledy-piggledy and do not work this piece of the homeland what is needed. Nervously checked the dispatch, but systematize nothing. All evening we had to banquet out on the bed, where without rest era mattresses and bedding smelled like dog. The kids covered the sleeping model, what stroke of luck that I had hurl them in the inimitable two secs to the car.”

I suspect this was an actual post or review somewhere, but originally written in another language.  My favourite part is the “niggardly dinner”.  I definitely won’t be going… wherever it was these people were.

Although since I have no idea where that was, I can only hope that I never get tricked into booking this place for which the flier was no dash to reality.

Depamperized

11 Jan

Today Christmas is truly over.  No, it’s not because the Christmas tree is sitting by the curb — we did that almost two weeks ago.  It’s not because the ornaments and decorations have been packed away — that happened last week.  No, Christmas is over now because — suddenly — the magic is over.

It’s been close to a month that my dishes have been getting washed and put away without my ever having to lift a finger.  My laundry hamper has stayed surprisingly empty and my dresser drawers surprisingly full.  Food has been cooked and served and packed away again.  Potties have been kept sparkling clean.  Oooh, and my coffee has been appearing every morning, already perfectly doctored.

I tried to do some of the things I usually do, but was always rebuffed.  Instead I spent the time playing with my kids, or playing the piano, or even napping a little.

Today, though, the magic is suddenly gone.  I guess I don’t really mind having my kitchen back, since I do enjoy cooking every so often.  But there seem to be twice as many bums to wipe and the laundry is already piling back up again.

Good thing I’m so well-rested.

(Thanks, mom!  I hope you’re not too exhausted from your visit!)

More dinner conversation with Jade

28 Sep

Jade: “I don’t like that smell.”

Me: “Okay, well, I’m pretty sure that came from Nanuq.  We can put him outside.”

Jade: “I think you should put him outside.”

Me (opening door): “Come on, Nanuq.  Out you go…. Hurry up, before we all die from the draft!”

Jade: “Why did you say that?”

Me: “Say what?”

Jade: “Why did you say we would die from the giraffe?”

She sells sea shells…

25 Jul

Did you ever consider just how enterprising she has to be in order to sell seashells right at the seashore?  Either that, or she must be damned cute.

A game

15 Mar

I have some things to update on, but I must get to bed.  In the meantime, here’s something for you to amuse yourself with. 

A friend on Facebook posted a status that played on the words “list” and “lust”.  In attempting a witty comment, I realized that every vowel can work here: last, lest, list, lost, and lust.  (But never lyst.)

The next day, while walking Nanuq, I tried to come up with another set that would work and found it surprisingly difficult.  Sometimes I’d come tantalizingly close: mare, mere, mire, more… mure?  (And, in fact, Google tells me this word actually exists, although it is archaic.  Hunh!)

Barn.  Bern.  Birn? Born.  Burn.

Sand.  Send.  Sind? Argh.

Bat. Bet. Bit. Bot. But. Yes!

I know it’s the geek in me, but this had me laughing out loud as I walked along with the dog.  Thank goodness there’s hardly ever anyone on the trails.  I’m sure it’s frightening to have to pass a crazy lady when you’re out on those lonely paths…

A new fairytale

15 Dec

“Jade, you pooped again? Didn’t you already poop today?”

“Yep. Like Cinderella does.”

Keto crisis

8 Oct

We all left the house around 4:00 p.m.  The two girls and I were heading downtown to run Halloween-related errands, and Amanda was leaving early for a bachelorette party she had helped organize. 

I don’t often do errands with both kids in tow because, given a choice, I’d rather not buckle and unbuckle, load and unload, entertain and feed, while I’m trying to just get stuff done.  But since Michael is out of town, I’m on my own for handling that whining  witching hour before supper, and this was a good way to keep everyone occupied.

Jade had just woken from her nap (always a bit of a crank-fest then) and I had my hands full of baby and toys and keto snack and diaper bag and sundry, so I tossed out, “Lock the door please?” as Amanda came out of the house.

Since Amanda had premade both Jade and Halia’s food, I timed our return for about 5:45.  That would give me fifteen minutes to strip off boots and coats, wash hands, warm up and finish mixing food, and then serve it to my hungry birds.  I hauled everyone and everything up our front stairs… only to find that the large bunch of keys in my pocket did not include the house keys.

Leaving our purchases at the front door, I schlepped the kids four houses down to Heather’s place for an extra set of our keys.  (The ones that had been over at Tom’s house across the street had already been collected a couple of months ago when I forgot my keys on the sailboat, and — oops! — they were now hanging on the key rack inside the locked house.)  I got to Heather’s and she said, “No, we gave those back to you ages ago so that Ryan could get in.”  Riiiiiight, back in June, when we were in Ottawa and he was coming by to finish up some work.

Crap.  Crappity, crappity crap.

Suddenly, my boneheadedness wasn’t just a minor inconvenience, but a huge problem.  How in the world could I get Jade fed?  Heather offered the contents of her kitchen and pantry, but there is no way I can concoct a dairy and egg-free keto meal (without a scale!) at some random everyday kitchen.  No coconut oil?  No coconut milk?  No egg-free mayonnaise or dairy-free margarine?  Then enormity of not being able to get into my own house was like a punch in the gut.

I called Amanda’s cell and left a message.  I waited a few minutes.  I tried phoning again.  Then I tried the spa I knew she’d gone to, but it was after their regular business hours, so no one answered their phone. 

Thank goodness for living in a small town.  Heather let me leave Jade there (playing happily her kids’ toys and books) while I scooped up Halia and drove downtown to the spa, hoping I hadn’t misunderstood, hoping Amanda wasn’t somewhere else altogether.  I got a parking spot right in front of the spa, snatched Halia from her carseat, and raced up the stairs.  The bachelorette party appeared to be in full swing, but I spotted Amanda right away.  While I was driving downtown, she had gotten my message and was waiting to give me her set of keys.  (“I hope the rest of your weekend is better!” she wished me as I swooped back out the door.)

Halia was in full hissy-fit mode by the time I collected Jade, but by 6:30, both girls had were eating their suppers, and they were even in bed pretty much on time.

And me?  My neck and shoulders are incredibly stiff and I am thinking with much longing of that spa downtown.   Don’t you love it when a story has a good ending?  Because then you can look back on your own stupid self… and laugh.  But this older and wiser me is going to have a whole new strategy for keys from here on in.

Monsters in the living room

7 Oct

Today we built a couch-cushion fort.  I don’t know why we’ve never done this before, but I figured it was high time Jade was initiated into the ritual of furniture fort-building.  She absolutely loved it.  (And, in fact, pretty much pitched a fit when it was time to stop playing to have supper.)

Of course, when you remove the cushions from your couch, you inevitably remember that you never vacuum there.  And you may be disgusted by what you see.  So, if you’re feeling as if you really ought to at least try to do some household work now and then and it might as well be now seeing as the kids are busy and happy, then you just might haul out the vacuum cleaner.

And you might discover, tucked tightly into a crevice, and perilously close to being swallowed up by the structure of the couch, one of the missing cordless phones (dead as a doornail, of course).  And you might wonder, why didn’t I look for it in the couch sooner?

Then, you might gingerly feel under the back and arms of the sofa, in those tricky spaces where eyeballs can’t reach and sharp things might linger, and squishy things might exist.

You might be surprised to find a piece of Lego that is so foreign and unidentifiable, that it is clearly a leftover from the previous owners of the couch.  You might find the ear wax digger (I am not kidding you) of a former guest.  (Apparently, persons of Chinese descent have harder ear wax and a specialized tool is required to get it out because Q-tips just don’t cut it.  And that is your totally disgusting PSA of the day.)  You might further find the beloved “Camping” model Swiss Army Knife your husband has been missing for months if not years.  And you might wonder at the finding of it, since your own identical (but newer) knife, which was also lost for a similar amount of time, was found earlier in the day when you cleaned out an old purse you never use to give it to your daughter for “dress up” purposes.

Then you might just conclude that the real monsters in your (w)rec(k) room are not your children, but the fuzzy-from-cat-and-dog-hair and all-too-innocent-looking green couches. 

And they’re hungrier than you think.

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