It's time to stand up: don't be a noodle spine

Did you read the article about how 8 nurses in Indiana got fired for not subjecting themselves to a mandatory flu shot?

Welcome to the U.S. of A. where freedom is slipping through your fingers like sand through the hourglass.

So in this article, apparently a hospital required all employees to get a flu shot.  Something like 2000 did not do it but only 8 nurses were fired.  The powers that be are citing "patient safety" as their reason for requiring their faithful employees to shoot stuff into their bodies against their will.  This article also said that most people won't fight it but they really seem to have a problem with those dang nurses - they don't want to do it.

I WONDER WHY.  Do you think nurses talk to people?  Do they ever talk to sick people?  Do they ever talk about HOW sick people got sick?  Do they know the system at all?  Just a teensy eensy bit, maybe?

There is something wrong here.

I don't know if you've noticed, but there is a lot of push for groupthink.  Don't be an individual.  Heavens, no.  Don't think for yourself.  Don't do anything that everyone else in the whole freakin world isn't already doing.  Stay in your box.  Betas wear khaki.  Take your soma.

If you dare to stand up for your OWN personal rights against the will and body-rapist/tyrants, you're sure to get fired.

Or worse.

Everything is somewhat connected, yes.  We all get that.  But people who are trying to get you to think collectively are raping your mind and filling your thoughts with their personally beneficial propaganda.

Wake up, it's time for you to ask them - why?  Why don't they care about their nurses? Why do they dare strong-arm educated, caring, intelligent people who have dedicated their lives to the service of others?  Doesn't their theory of "patient safety" blow up out the window the second A DIFFERENT patient walks into the hospital and "contaminates" it with their evil one-celled organisms?  Ask them - who the crap do they think they are, telling you what you must inject/inhale/consume in your body?  Ask them - who stands to benefit from this?  Who are you?  Who supports you?  How are you getting paid?  Follow the money and you're sure to find a trace of a stink.

Money, power and control - the ingredients for an ugly storm.

At least in this very weak society there are a very few who will stand up for their beliefs, for their rights against the tyrants - even when it is to their own hurt.  They are those who did not lay down and take it, but instead stood up strong, eyes straight ahead, following hard after their convictions and putting their foot down when the line was crossed.

They chose courage instead of cowardice, personal convictions over groupthink brainwash and will have a legacy to leave their very proud progeny.

May you be as likewise legendary in your own arena.

Peace, love and give the nurses some capes,
Ms. Daisy

Randoms. Happy New Year!

Okay, I’m on late today, sorry.  It was a bit of a crazy one.  Anyway, I wanted to talk to all a ya’ll about a few things in true random Daisy style.  Giddy up.

First – on your New Year's resolution to become a runner (right?  Didn’t you?  Wasn’t that on the list?), I wanted to point some of you who live in a snowy climate toward a tool that you can use to run outside whilst the world turns into a giant ice cube.  It’s called Yak Trax and m’dearies, they are amazing.  They are these metal coil thingy-ma-jigs that strap on with rubber and Velcro to the bottom of your running shoes.  It gives you a fantastic grip so you have a much less chance of falling on the ice that used to be a sidewalk.  As my dear Swedish friend says, “There’s no bad weather, only bad clothing.”  Those Swedes!  Ah, precis, det ar så popular.  Jag älskar dej, bastis!

Check out some fancy Yaktrax!

Secondly – What kind of doctor do you go see?  Have you ever considered a naturopath?  I seriously think you should.  If you get a good doctor (of any type, really), they are a gold mine of wonderful information.  I’m not knocking all other types of doctors, just so ya’s know, but I am discouraged that there are so many physicians out there who – instead of perusing your symptoms and seek an actual CAUSE – prefer to consult their gigantic book of cleverly painted pills and play Pick-Yer-Favorite-Color by using a Twister wheel provided for them by their own dear friends, the pharmaceutical companies.

Thirdly – Hillary Clinton.  If you believe ANYTHING that the media is telling you about her ailments that she so fatefully is experiencing at the perfect timing so that she does not have to testify in something that may incriminate her for wrongdoing, please, do me a favor.  Pick up a block of wood and bang it against your forehead like the monks in Monty Python’s Holy Grail.  This will help you.  Somehow.  If it doesn’t, just ask your doctor to give you the color of the week pill.

Fourthly – Guns don’t murder people, zombies and sickos do.  If you think you can solve the world’s problems by removing guns from the safes of the actual sane and law-abiding people, you might as well also ban steak knives, cars, gardening tools, ropes, and a plethora of other tools that any generic weirdo would get his weirdo hands on and do his weirdo things with.  Promoting vampires, werewolves, aliens, and crimes/murder (via shows like CSI, etc.) feed the mainstream of society and spread their sprawling talons with a slicing grip into every idea that used to be “normal” (two-parent homes, young people being respectful to their elders, not sucking blood out of people’s necks, etc.).  Society is broken into a thousand pieces and it just keeps getting hacked at every single day.  Politics aren’t going to fix it.  The media aren’t going to fix it.  (It sounds so weird to say that, but media is really a plural word.  Ugh.  It looks so gross and sounds weird that way, though, doesn’t it!?  Ew.)  There’s only one solution.  Move to Switzerland.  They all have guns there and the crime rate is like 0.000%.  That was easy!  Any other world problems, just send them my way.

Now let me just tell you what I really think.

Yes.

Ahem.

Okay, I guess that’s enough soapbox for one day.

Peace, love and I’ll meet you in Switzerland with your Yaktrax on,

Ms. Daisy

Be it resolved...

I don’t know how it is everywhere, but here in these United States, everyone loves to have a good solid New Year’s resolution or two.  Or five.  And amongst the throngs of lists of the many resolves, there stands one which is so prevalent and pronounced that it is quite likely that it is the most popular resolution ever made and I dare say it is made every year by the masses.  What is this resolution that is so near and dear and popular and prevalent?

The fantastic resolution to lose weight/begin exercising.

This is never more evident to me than in the gym in the wee hours of the morning all throughout January.  I, being somewhat of a creature of habit, have my “own” locker at the gym.  If I could stencil my name on it, I would, but since I can’t, I just claim it by using the same one every single morning.  It is the perfect spot for me, oh how I love it so!  It never fails, however, that sometime in January, a person who is pretending that they are going to get fit and fabulous waddles in and steals my locker.  This only happens in January because about 5 weeks (6 if you’d like to make bets on it) after the new year, all of those people who were working it out to go work out totally quit and go back to sleeping in and eating potato chips on their couches while they identify with the contestants on The Biggest Loser (I love you, Bob and Jillian!)

This is the time where all of the actual regulars rejoice and are free to enjoy a much more open space in the privacy of their own locker area without threat of invasion. 

Maybe you’ve got a resolution to pick up a new hobby or learn something you’ve never tried before.  If you aren’t a runner, might I suggest giving it a whirl?  It is a very rewarding hobby and once you convince yourself you’d like to do it and begin pursing it, there are a myriad of benefits.  What benefits, say you?  Well, there’s the obvious – an increase in cardiovascular health, a trimmer figure, and perhaps even the coveted golden crown of weight loss and a shrinking of the posterior regions.  Then you’ve got the others – a great stress-reliever and an outlet for clearing your mind and lungs.  You get to enjoy the scenery around you on an up-closer scale that you wouldn’t be able to do if you were passing by on a bus or in a car and it gives you an appreciation for your surroundings (or you just get entertainment value by playing a game of “Grade The Lawns” as you run past).  You may even develop an addiction to it with all those endorphins flying around, not to mention the best sleep you'll ever have after a killer run (for all of you dear insomniacs out there).  Some research reports that running even reduces your risk of disease like breast cancer and osteoporosis for women.

Now you’re sitting there thinking, “Yeah, that’s just great Ms. Daisy, but I have to tell you something: I HATE RUNNING.” 

I know, I know.  You like the idea of running but the actual doing it is horrid torture.  I was there.  I know how you feel. 

Sometimes you’ve got to pull the mind-over-matter thing.  I didn’t start running until after I was 27ish years old.  I called up my little sister (who was a member of a cross country running team) and said…

“Hey, so, I’ve been thinking.  I think it would be so cool to be a marathon runner!  Do you want to do a marathon with me?”

Sister: “Do you have any idea how long a marathon actually is?”

Me: “Um, no…”

Sister: “26.2 miles.”

Me: “Oh, ick.  What do they have that’s less?”

Sister:  “A half?”

Me: “Ummmm, still no…is that the least?”

Sister: “There’s a 10k, 6.2 miles.”

Me: “Oh man! Is there anything else?”

Sister: “A 5k?”

Me:  “Sold!  I’m so doing that!  Now, how do I do it?”

I didn’t really know how, but I ran 6 days a week for practice.  I actually started off with quite hating running.  I could only really run about one block.  The amazing thing about your body and your muscle memory is that it grows and grows – the more you practice, the more you can do.  The positive reinforcement I got from being able to steadily do more and more (plus my idea that I would soon get to call myself “a runner”) spurred me on to keep it up, even when it was hard and I didn’t feel like it anymore.

I signed up for a 5k race (I recommend you do this.).  Every morning I would picture the other racers.  I would tell myself that they got up and were running right now (or perhaps they were already done with their run today) and they were killing it out there.  They were going for the gold and wanted to snatch first place away from me.  I have a slightly competitive nature and this worked very well because I would then run so hard I would nearly crumple into a pathetic little ball on the cement upon finishing each day (Also recommended, but not required.).

I am happy to tell you that if I can do it, you can do it.  I truly could not run more than a block.  After several years of training off and on, I even managed to finish a half marathon (13.1 miles/21 k).  I am not telling you this so that I can tell you fascinating stories of my personal awesomeness, but rather to say that YOU CAN DO IT! 

Whaddya think?  Do you want to call yourself a runner?  What resolutions do you have? 

Peace, love and train it like you’re Little Mac,

Ms. Daisy

Benzene: the next "Where's Waldo"

Top o'the mornin' to yus, me lovies.  I've got a bit of a project for you, if you're up for it.  If not, well...okay, have a few sips of your tea and see if you can work up to it.

It's good for you!  (Do all you rebels out there want to just not do it since I've just said that?  I understand completely.)

So here's the deal.  There's a crazy carcinogen out there, I'm sure you've maybe heard of it: benzene.  It's quite the known carcinogen, actually.  She's a real doozy.  

You might be so excited (not) to hear that she's hiding in plain sight in your medicine cabinet and perhaps even in your fridge!  Oh, lovely.  And if you're thinking she might only be lurking in your meds, actually, she's quite a bit more common in children's meds.  That's the sicker thing about it.

Now, it's not going to just say "BENZENE" on the label.  No, m'dearies.  If you saw that, you'd be throwing it out the window.  Instead, we get this lovely carcinogen from the combination (a.k.a. chemical reaction) of sodium benzoate and citric acid.  Sodium benzoate is used mainly as a preservative and every manufacturer is just straight up in mad love with it.  I've seen it on pop cans and in lotions and in liquid Tylenol and in Benadryl and in a pile of other things.

So think about this.  You have a little person in your home and they're sad and sick as can be.  You reach into the cupboard, thinking you'll alleviate some of their symptoms because you can't stand to see them suffering and grab some kiddo Tylenol (acetaminophin).  

What?  What's that?  Who is playing that Jaws music?  What foreboding are you suggesting?  

Oh, nothing really.  We've just been duped and trained to give our children (and ourselves) carcinogens when our immune systems are at their weakest.  GREAT IDEA.

Seriously?  Whoever thought this up is a real sick dude.  (Or dudette.)  

Would you like to read up on it a bit more?  Here are some links:

The EPA's site on benzene 

The American Cancer Society's page on benzene 

The MSDS on benzene 

Science-y language on benzene in soda/pop 

So do me a flavor (yes, I prefer flavor, just not the flavor of benzene.).  Check something in your medicine cabinet.  Does it have those two ingredients together?  Look in your fridge.  Did you find it?  It's Where's Waldo for benzene.  What a fun game.

Maybe not, but I'm trying to keep an eye out for yas.  

Happy (almost) New Year and make your resolution now not to carcinogen-ify yourself in 2013.

Peace, love and I'll have mine without the cancer, thank you,

Ms. Daisy

You may call me Scrooge, but I prefer "Ms. Tidy"

I have a little Christmas tradition that I've been keeping up as long as I've lived as the princess of my domain.  I find it relaxing, refreshing and freeing.  My husband finds it revolting, horrifying and Scrooge-like.  What could two peas in a pod possibly disagree on to such a level as this, you ask?

Well, okay.  Let me tell you.  But you must promise not to yell out "SCROOGE" when you hear it.  Promise?  Pinkie swear?

Yay.

Okay, (hushed tones) my tradition is to wake up early on December 26 and take down my Christmas tree and decorations.

HEY!  You promised!

Now before you throw up your arms in disgust at my ways, let me explain my point of view.  Okay, here's my main point: Christmas is OVER.  Done.  Like it was so yesterday.    After all the Christmas party-ing and crazy family-fying and being away from home for about 72 hours straight, I often feel that the week leading up to Christmas is some kind of holiday marathon.  And, if you've run a marathon before (I've only done a half so far, but I can imagine a full), when you cross the finish line (a.k.a. going to bed on Christmas night), you're done.  You've finished the race, completed the course and you're ready to grab your medal, go home, snuggle in bed and swear off running for a month in exchange for playing Math Workout on your couch or making a nice fancy scarf real crochet-like.  You have had it.  You've been wrung out.  You want to hear no more of Art Van's once in a millenium sales (that they somehow have every single week), you do not want to spend Kohl's cash, you just want to go back to normal.

So that's what I do.  My physical space represents the inside of my brain.  If you have clutter, you have a chaotic mind.  If you have simplicity and tranquility, you have a quiet(er) mind.  I wakey wakey and begin the purge.  Sometimes I have to sneak it - like if my hubby is off work and sleeping in the next room, yeah, let's say he kind of gets mad when he wakes up and finds that everything has disappeared.  He likes the tree up, it reminds him of cozy-ness.  Now I get that, but we've been cozy long enough and it's got to go.  We have had an argument pretty much every December 26th we've been married because of my crazy tradition.  At first he was so baffled and taken aback, he didn't really know what to say or do.  Over the next ten-ish years, he would say, "You better not do that thing you do..."  And alas, I had to do it anyway.  I am usually not such a sassy wife, but in this I can't be convinced.  I'm the one who stares at the living room all day (okay, not stare exactly but I know it's there) and he's at work.

This year was our 16th Christmas together (1 dating, 1 engaged, 14 married - yep, I was like you know, 10 or so when I got married, thus think of me as 26.) and a first has happened.  A week or so ago, he said the same thing, "You better not do that thing you do..." and I said, "Honey, don't fight it.  You have your traditions (like eating pierogies on Christmas Eve) and I have mine (like taking down the Christmas stuff before 9:00 in the morning on December 26th).  I love you, that's just the way it is."

For the FIRST TIME, do you know what?  He halfway accepted it!  He said, "Well, don't take down the window lights, I like them."  

HOORAY!!!!  "Of course, dear!  Now have some pie.  Shall I make you a cup of coffee, sweetie pie darling honey bunny?  And what about a back rub?"  (Okay, I totes did not go as far as the back rub thing, but you get the gist.)

That, dear folks, is marriage at it's finest.  And my home is all nice and tidy and I can think again and all is lovely.  

I hope you and yours had a lovely Christmas (and enjoy your Boxing Day - what is that, anyway?).

Peace, love and clean it up!
Ms. Daisy

What the heck is in your ice cream?

Happy Christmas Eve, everyone!

Do you like ice cream?  Where do you get it from?  It's not like...commercial ice cream, is it?  If you want to remain blissfully happy and unaware of the hazards that you've grown to love, I suggest you stop reading this and go play Mahjong or something - because after you hear about your precious little ice cream, you may just want to barf.

I know.  Welcome to another exciting edition of Ms. Daisy Gives You Disturbing Information About Things You Thought You Liked.

So I've been making my own ice cream for a little while now, mostly because I buy heavy whipping cream in bulk and it's a good use of it - either that or making butter (did you see that post?  If not, go check it out when you're done here.) - the delicious superfood.  And yes, I mean it - superfood.  Just go read that thing, you'll be horrified initially and then delighted.  I know you - you were the kid who was sticking your finger in the butter dish.  Don't try to hide it.  Its because you knew what was good for you back then and your adult and learned mind absorbed junk diet fabrications from the dictocrats.  Anyway, I digress.  Back to the ice cream.

I used to buy ice cream at the store.  If you buy the ones with 5 ingredients in it (which is really all ice cream needs to have in it - I'll tell you how to make it in a minute), they're like five million bucks more than the junk crud with 1,634 ingredients in it.  You would think that would be the opposite, but apparently poison is cheaper than real food.  Shocker.  So, I was thinking I didn't really want a pile of polysorbate-60 in my ice cream along with all those other unpronounceables (not to mention GMO soy lecithin and GMO corn syrup or high fructose corn syrup or some poisonous artificial colors and flavors) so I'd just try to make it myself.  I have been tweaking it - I have a very strict judge here, my hubby, who complains if it isn't just right.  I don't have an ice cream maker and I am too lazy to do that salt thing so if you're more adventurous than I, by all means, use those thingies and you'll end up with a creamier end product. I, however, just want an excuse to use my homemade "Magic Shell".  

Okay, so you're saying, what's wrong with my ice cream?  Let's start with the fact that ice cream manufacturers are not legally required to list the additives used in the manufacturing of their products - are you ready to be shocked - SO THEY DON'T TELL YOU THEM.  I know.  Baby, baby, it's a wild world.  Let's take a glimpse into what's in your ice cream, based on analysis.  Drum roll,  please...

1.  Diethylglycol.  A cheap chemical used as an emulsifier instead of eggs.  Same chemical used in ANTIFREEZE and PAINT REMOVERS.

2.  Piperonal.  Used in place of vanilla.  This chemical is used to KILL LICE.  I wish I were making this up.  

3.  Aldehyde C-17.  Used to flavor cherry ice cream.  It is an inflammable liquid also used in ANILINE DYES, PLASTIC and RUBBER.

4.  Ethyl acetate.  Used to give ice cream a pineapple flavor.  Also a CLEANER for LEATHER and textiles.  Wanna hear something even better?  It's vapors have been known to cause chronic lung, liver and heart damage.  WHAT!?

5.  Butyraldehyde.  Nut flavored ice cream lovers, this is for you.  It flavors nut ice creams and is also in RUBBER CEMENT.  Delish.

6.  Amyl acetate.  Banana ice creamy-ness, hello.  Use #2: OIL PAINT SOLVENT.

7.  Benzyl acetate.  Straberry ice cream, anyone?  Word up, it's also a NITRATE SOLVENT.

(Source: PPNF Health Journal)

I guess you could just freeze some of your garage liquids and mix them with some old milk and do your ice cream that way...OR, you could make your own using about 5 ingredients.  Really.  C'mon peeps.  Jump on board and impress your friends (and also survive past 43 years old while you're at it.) with your extreme skillz (yep, with a "z") at ice cream making!

Woooo hoo!

I mean, unless you really like your lice killer ice cream.  Whatever floats your boat, man, but I'm just trying to look out for you.

Okay, so here's what I do.  It's really hard.  Not.

Ingredients:
2 ish? cups of heavy whipping cream
a dump of sugar (from cane, not beets - keep your GMO junk out of your "healthier" ice cream) - 1/4 cup? 1/2 cup?
a splash of vanilla (I am so technical it's insane)
2 egg yolks
a blob of milk

How:
1.  Use your mixer and make whipped cream - dump in your pile of sugar.  When you're fluffy as can be, stop.  (Don't overdo it unless you were planning on making butter.)
2.  Add the rest of your ingredients (2 egg yolks, a splash of milk - 1/2 cup-ish, and vanilla - a tablespoon-ish).

As you can see, this is a very exact science.

Okay, I just have to say something.  Everyone in the entire United States and Canada is FREAKING out right now because I told you to add uncooked egg yolks.  If you are getting your eggs from a commercial source, I can see why you might be freaking out.  But if you get your eggs from a known source (please go find some local eggs, seriously.), you are good to go.  Europe, did you know that Americans refrigerate our eggs?  United States-ians, did you know that most places in Eurpoe DON'T refrigerate their eggs?  Tell em!  Tell em you're still just fine and even alive.  Tell em you stick em in a bowl on your counter and it's the normalest thing ever.  I know.  I've been brainwashed to put mine in the fridge, but help us.  I don't know what our problem is. Maybe because a germ would leap onto it and kill us dead.  Probably.  It's a legitimate concern, obviously.  

Oh yes, last step.  Put your concoction in the freezer.  If you want to have chocolate ice cream, make a chocolate sauce (I use chocolate chips melted in heavy whipping cream) and stir it in.  Straberry?  Swirl in your homemade preserves.  The vanilla goes with just about everything.

Now, the magic shell - oh, for those of you who don't know what I'm talking about - it's that stuff you put on your ice cream and it turns into a crunchy delicious shell of chocolate wonderment.  It's the reason for summer (that and sunlight), the joy of finishing all of your healthy dinner and a piece of delight on the plate of life.

Here's the recipe for that, are you ready?  Melt coconut oil in a pan (1/2 cup).  Pour in chocolate chips until they are melty.  Pour on to ice cream.  Coconut oil is a solid below 76 degrees F (24 C) and liquid above.  If you get enough chocolate in there, it stays liquidy even if your house is pretty cold.  If it solidifies, just heat it up on the stove again.  Pour all over your ice cream and say, "HOLY COW THIS IS SO GOOD."  That's what I do, anyway.

Some of you don't know me and you could be imagining me as a 400 pound whale from my comments about butter and ice cream and magic shell.  I am not.  People who eat full-fat foods are THINNER than those who eat low-fat garbage.  It's a fact, even though it seems like insanity.  Your stomach has receptors and when fat jumps in, your stomach says, "Okey dokes, we're good, all set, you're full now."  When you eat low-fat, they are  not triggered and you keep eating.  Can you eat a side of beef after that piece of cheesecake?  Yeah, no, probs not.  There's a reason.

So m'dearies, that's what we've got for you today.  Merry Christmas and pitch that old lice killer!

Peace, love and pass the magic shell,
Ms. Daisy

The Search for Wonderbread: No, not THAT kind.

I try, as often as possible, to avoid clutching tightly to the consumerism and stuff that comes to tempt us in this life.  

HOWEVER.

If you look in my cupboard, you may find I am bordering on obsessed with glass jars.  And if you take a peek in my cupboard (or fridge, depending on the time), it seems I have a love affair with...bread.

Oh, carbohydrates!  How I dost love thee!  Well, that and tea.  Tea gets like 2 cupboards out of my 12ish cupboards because, hello, tea deserves it. 

Back to the bread.  At this moment, I have a myriad of bread types lounging around in my kitchen and I love each and every one of them.  I love the sprouted multigrain, of course.  All those yummy sprouters all mixed in to one lovely loaf - oh the toast!  I can't have a breakfast without it, slathered in melting and puddling butter (getting my Vitamin A and D!).  Then I've got the regular ol' softy organic wheat for sandwiches for the faint of heart.  Scootch that loaf over and I've got a crusty boule with olive oil and rosemary cut in half and a hearty wheat version, too.  For good measure, I made up a cinnamon-raisin loaf because it sounded so darn good.  I did use the dough with the olive oil and rosemary already in it (it was the only one ready for my concoction and whims) because I was so utterly desperate and I was a little horrified at how it might turn out, but it was simply wonderful.

I have a friend who has a reputation for the best bread on earth.  I called her today because she has a secret.  (Warning: it's about to NOT be a secret anymore...)  The secret to her wonderful bread is a little contraption she's got in her kitchen.  This little(ish) contraption does a little miracle inside the guts of its dear inventive self.  What is this masterpiece of a machine?  Why, my dearies, it's not a breadmaker, heavens NO!  (Newsflash: real bread makers use OVENS, not plug-in boxes.)  This wonderous, heavenly, darling machine is, bum-ba-da-baaaaaa!!!  A grain mill!

Yes, like back in the day.  She says the smell is like nothing you've ever smelled before.  It's not like the rancid flours we get from our organic supermarkets (or the regular ones, either).  I know.  I'm jealous.  Hangin' out with rancid flour from King Arthur and she's got the goods just fluffily pouring out of her kitchen.  She probably prances around and has confetti-like parties (with hand-ground flour, of course) because she knows she's going to be eating the most fabulous bread in the whole world.  There's probably sunshine pouring in through the windows and everything is slow motion and hey, is she wearing a tiara and a Cinderella dress?  Holy cow!  Probs.  As it lands on her glowing children's eyelashes, they lovingly look up at her, knowing she is providing them with a complete nutritional whole grain and the freshest bread anyone in a ten mile radius has ever had in their life.

Well, or maybe she said it kind of sounds like a vacuum cleaner.  But I think picturing the previous scene is what is happening on a nutritional level.

To tell you the truth, I've wanted a grain mill for like two mazillion years now (or five, whatEVER) and I decided that it would be about time for me to put it on the Christmas list.  So I had to call her for some input on what works, what's awesome, dimensions, speed, etc.  She has the Nutrimill which has a very lovely function (it's electric, by the way) - you can tell it to stop mid-churn.  I guess most of them just go on with their loud singing vacuum selves for twenty minutes and if you even threaten to turn it off, it will choke, die and never turn on again.  And then it will mock you and make faces while you cry little sobs and beg forgiveness.  So, yeah, I don't want that kind.

So I was on this website that sells such lovely creations and then it happened.  Remember the sunshine and confetti party previously mentioned?  Well, let me just say THAT HAPPENED when I saw the most lovely mills that have ever been made in probably all of history and the world.  As you know, I think plastic is the devil.  I saw the embodiment of beauty and proper crafstmanship, streamline and clean design in the body of gorgeous wood and stainless steel.  YES, hello.  True.  Not plastic, not paint.  Just amazingness.

What, pray tell, sayeth you, is the name of such bewonderment?  It's a KoMo mill, designed in Europe, where people run through fields of wheat (at least they do on their youtube video from the manufacturer).  Now THAT'S the kind of thing you want.  People running through wheat.  I do, anyway.

It's a little pricey, but since it has about a 12 year warranty and is expected to last a lifetime, I guess that's the price for true craftsmanship and lovely design using quality materials.  Isn't that how it is with anything?  High fructose corn syrup costs about $0.11/gallon and honey costs about $35.99/gallon.  What would you choose?  (Adam, do NOT answer this question.)

Then, m'dearies, I can fill the house with wonderbread.  Not the Wonderbread that has circles on it and is filled with polysorbate-80, 60, 40 and 14.2.  I mean a bread of wonder, a bread that retains all of what you are supposed to have in actual whole wheat without the rancidy-ness. 

Do you make your own bread?  Have you seen the KoMo?  Were you also struck with love?  Pray tell, how many loaves of bread are you keeping in your house at the moment?  If you say one, you better bake it up, homies!

And now, it seems it's about time to raise a toast.  Out of the toaster.  Cheers!

Peace, love and buttery goodness,
Ms. Daisy