The "P.C." Crack: Sugar

Have you ever pondered the vast oodles and depths of toxic, habit-forming drug you have stored up in your cupboards?  You may exclaim, "What?!  I don't have any drugs in my cupboard!  What on earth are you talking about?"  Today we're talking about the socially acceptable narcotic, sugar.

(Oh, come ON, Ms. Daisy, you can't mean that!  You are so over the top sometimes!  You're the conductor of a very long crazy train and I think you're falling off of the tracks!)

Well, all aboard, let's take a ride on the wild side!  

Let's begin with pointing to the new study done at the University of Utah.  They fed mice a diet of 25% extra sugar (that's the human equivalent of having 3 soda/pop/Coke's a day) to see what would happen to them.  

Take a WILD guess.  It wasn't good.

The female mice died at twice the normal rate and the males were less able to protect their territory and reproduce.  You heard it, dudes, it messes with your...ahem...manly-ness.  (If that doesn't make a guy's ears perk up, I don't know what will.)  Yes, so, that's death for us females and wussbag lame-o sauce for the males.

Awesome.  

Oh.  Great news (NOT).  These tests were done according to levels that are considered SAFE FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION.  This isn't one of those tests that is like, well, we found that by pouring in fifteen gallons of mercury per hour down the throat of an ant that it caused it to die at a relatively faster pace.  No.  This is like the mice representation of the Standard American Diet (SAD).  Do you hear what I'm trying to tell you?  

YOUR IDEA OF NORMAL SUGAR CONSUMPTION MAY BE VERY BAD FOR YOUR HEALTH.  

Sorry for the yelling.  Sometimes I get carried away.

Oh, more good news.  They found that this level of sugar caused the mice to behave on the same level as if they were inbred.  Can you hear me now?  Eating this much sugar is akin to your mama and your daddy being cousins.  Hello?  Anybody out there?

Seriously.  You can read it here:  Researched: How to die, get your junk messed with, and to act inbred.

Why are we so sugar-obsessed?  Oh, that's easy.  It's because sugar is a narcotic.  When your brain gets a dose of sugar, it lights up like a crack high.

We're dying of piles and piles of degenerative diseases for the love of it.  We support a multi-billion dollar industry that is killing us and our children.

And it is completely and perfectly socially acceptable.

In fact, if you fight it, you get to be the weirdo.

But I'm only here to shed some light.  I research and write about these things because I actually care about other people and whether or not they are able to live healthy, normal, enjoyable lives.  I know it sounds radical.  I know it seems counter-cultural to question sugar.  

Just think of all those times you've bonded over a piece of chocolate cake or about the pop/soda/Coke (I have to say it in all dialects just in case) you like to have with your pizza or popcorn on a Friday night.  Think of your grand-mammy giving you Valentine's hearts, the fabulous times you had sucking down Starbucks lattes back in college, the ice cream treats from the High Fruc Truck (or ice cream truck, whatever you guys call it).  Our society is built around tying social to sugar.

It's time to think about what you're putting into your mouth.

I'll tell you what - I've not come to the point of swearing it all off.  I love a piece of Trader Joe's organic 72% sustainable, ethically harvested dark chocolate (without soy lecithin).  If I'm going to have some home made, freshly ground wheat berries as cream of wheat, I gotta have a little dose of grade B maple syrup.  

But aren't there some things that maybe we could think about trading out?  Do we really need to scarf a bowl of ice cream (jag alskar dej, bastis - not YOU, dear) every night after dinner in the summer?  Or feel like we need to eat dessert on a daily basis?  I'm thinking we may have some habits that have gotten us to where we are now.

And if you look around you, you don't have to go too far to realize that is not a great place.

I'm not here to police you and force you to where you don't want to go.  That is why I cry out to you to evaluate where you are and ponder whether or not you may be shackled to sugar.  The prisoners of sugar are led down the paths that bring physical destruction.  No, life is not all about the physical.  But is sure hard to do the things you're supposed to do if you're half dead.

Would you consider cutting it back?  Would you consider giving yourself a trial time without it to see how it is?  

When the malicious is cloaked in innocence, it is devious indeed.  

Peace, love and live well,
Ms. Daisy

Want to help a passionate foodie?

Well, maybe she's not a foodie, but she has a passion for good, real food.  Whatever you want to call that - a real fooder?  

Anyway.  This is a girl named Brie.  She is the queen of food over at Polyface Farms.  (And if you don't know Polyface Farms, well, you oughta!  It is the author/farmer Joel Salatin's farm, who was featured on Food Inc. who was processing his meat chickens out in the open air with fresh water.  They are located in Virginia.)

Brie has the job of serving up food for twenty-something people on a daily basis.  She gets to use the abundance of a beautiful farm and their healthy produce and meat to bring health and happiness to those who work there.  She has dedicated her life to serving others in this way.

She got started into this passion because she began developing food allergies and had to start learning where all of her food came from in order to be safe and eat well.  She has expanded her knowledge and experience and is now ready to take an even bigger jump to educate herself across the pond in Ireland at a school named Ballymaloe Cookery School.

She has saved up, but she needs a little help for the last bit.  I don't know if you'd be able to help someone in this way, but if you'd like to hear it from her own mouth of what she's doing and where she wants to go, she has a video you can watch.

Check it out: Brie Aronson explains her relationship with and passion for good food.

I personally thought it was worthwhile.  Anyone on board with promoting traditional, real, local and sustainable practices is an A+!  

Peace, love and c'mon and give Brie $10,
Ms. Daisy

Never give up! Natural wood staining solutions

Happy Labor Day!  This is for all you do-it-yourself project bosses.  (And sorry I've been out - I had a vaycaycay without internet connection.)

Ello, daaahlings!  I was trying to decide what to call this post - something about almost dying or something about wood.  The story it is inspired by contains both, and no, I didn't almost saw my hand off (this time, anyway).

The world of wood stains is vast, crazy and...toxic.  Have you ever tried to find something at the store to stain wood?  Have you ever read their labels?  If you haven't, it looks like this: Warning - Toxic.  You're Gonna Die.  Contains Poison and Death.

But I was desperate!

The offsprings have had access to this little window ledge since they were wee tots toddling along, scratching every type of Matchbox, Hot Wheel and the like across it and varying speeds and velocities.  Now if it were just that, it would be one thing, but alas, no, the dog (and the previous dog) thought that it would be a perfect location for propping up front paws on to look out the window to bark and howl at every passing person, dog, squirrel, leaf and blow of wind.  This has left this once pristine piece of wood in a state of utter disrepair.  It looks as if I've had an angry cat/velociraptor who just couldn't resist scratching the spot to death.  It was covered in ugly scratches.

Yuck.

What to do?

I decided it would be simple to just sand it down and restain it.

Simple is not the word.  Let's go with horrid and impossible.

It began all right.  I got some sandpaper and worked on that puppy for two hours until even the sweat on my head was intermingled with sawdust.  Oh, what a lovely exfoliator.  What a myriad of benefits, indeed.

Then it was time to give the stains a try.  One was called "honey" and the other was called something else that depicted something light colored.  I can absolutely assure you that these were not even related to anything light colored whatsoever.  They ought to have been called something like "Deep Mud" or "Spilled Coffee".  I put a test spot on my newly-sanded wood and stepped back to see how it blended with the rest of everything.  It looked exactly like I was purposely trying to ruin it more.  It was great.

Now this would have been just fun as it was, but WAIT, THERE'S MORE!  Yes.  Included in this nightmare of totally ruining the wood was the added benefit of neurotoxins!  I began feeling a little woozy and then slightly confused...and then my jaw began to involuntarily tremble and shut on its own.  Yes, I did have the windows open.  I had a fan on to blast the stink air out of the window, but still, I was having quite a bad reaction.  I decided that this weird reaction was just going to get worse if I stuck around and played with the extra cool Dirtbag Coffee color so I packed it up and decided to return it.

I walked around the hardware store with my offsprings.  I didn't know what else to get.  Maybe a clear stain?  Maybe water-based would be better?  But they still have this long list of junk in it and what am I gonna do if I get lockjaw again?  I was slumping around, dismayed and distressed when all of a sudden, my offspring said something.

"Mom," said offspring, "You know what to do.  You KNOW it.  You gotta go home, get on the internet and you've gotta figure it out for yourself and make something at home.  THAT'S how you do it, Mom.  Do NOT give up!"

"Child," said I, "But this stuff is like paint!  I don't think you can make it at home."

"Come on, Mom.  You can.  Just try."

Offspring was right.  Dude.  You can totally do it at home.  I started looking it up and people make stains with plenty of household items.  You can use tea, cocoa, and myriads of things.  If you want to make it darker, you can make up something to deepen the color by putting some steel wool into a jar of vinegar.  It breaks down the steel wool and makes the color ten times darker.  All without lockjaw.

I wasn't looking for something so deeply colored, I wanted a lighter stain.  I happened upon a guy who built a hanging rack and who stained it himself.  It was exactly the color I wanted.  He made a paste of beeswax and some olive oil - and all of a sudden, I rejoiced.  I went from being near depressed (with lockjaw) to elated.  Crunchy Betty had a recipe for wood wax that was just that!  What if it worked?  I ran to the cuboard and pulled it out (you want this recipe, trust me: http://www.crunchybetty.com/wonderfully-simple-homemade-wood-polish-recipe ).  

It WORKED.  Perfectly and exactly.  Glory hallelujah!

Next time, listen to the kid.  You can do it!

Peace, love and skip the lockjaw,
Ms. Daisy

GMO alert: Chobani

I know some of you here in the States may eat Chobani yogurt.  It is advertised as "natural" and healthy.  This is a bit disturbing after what I've just read.

If you do consume this product (and eat it up in bulk from Costco), you should know that the milk they use, although it is non r-BST, comes from cows who eat GMO corn.  (Why they would pursue the one and skip the other is beyond me, but hey.)

If you'd like to have your yogurt and eat it too, I suggest you call Chobani and tell them that you would love it without the GMO, or just skip them and choose another yogurt.  (You do know that if it's certified organic, they can't knowingly have any GMO crapola in it, if you want to be safe.)

Not to stir anything up (ha!), but I thought you should know.

Peace, love and let's go for non-tumor forming yogurt yummies,
Ms. Daisy

The wild wide world

Howdy, partners!  As I sit here and soak my foot to remove glass shards, I'd like to talk to you about expanding your world.  (No, these are not really related.)

Wherever you are on this blue-green earth, it seems like it is a rather human thing of us to do to feel that where we are is pretty much how it is (or how it ought to be) everywhere else.  Now if you ask anyone the question, "Hey, do you think life is the same all around the world?", I think they'd say no.  But if you tweak the question a little bit and say, "Hey, do you think the way you live and who you are is fairly average?"  Most people would say yes.

These cannot both be true.  Alas, cognative dissonance.

We all are human, yes.  (Well, except for those cyborgs.)  We all basically want the same things, sorta.  But everywhere around this globe there are so many fascinating, different things that we may never pay attention to.

This makes our mindset quite small.  This is especially true for the U.S. of A. where all of our news is broadcast to us in a format that pretty much only informs us of anywhere else that has an impact on us.  What's wrong with that?  It makes your world small and your perspective quite filled with robust amounts of self-importance.  That's not such a lovely quality, is it?

Oh, bah, what to do, what to do!

This may seem a bit silly to you, but unless you're quite filthy stinkin' rich and can travel everywhere all over the globe at the drop of a hat, perhaps you could consider reading about other places.  I know, it sounds quite elementary.  But it teaches you that you are not the only one to think x, y, and z.  It teaches you that your scenery can be vastly different from what someone else would take for granted on their point on the globe.  If you'd like to expand even further, take a few steps out of our time (something that all of us share right now, right here) and see what was going on before you got here.

May I encourage you also to help your offspring to do it, too?  Just a thought.

Peace, love and oooh, baby, baby it's a wild world,
Ms. Daisy

Driving, Media, and the Soaring Heights of Being Pathetic

G'day me lovies!  How are yas?  I am a little...well...disturbed.  Let me tell you whyfor.

So, when I am in the car at 5:00 a.m. driving to go for a swim, I need to get all pumped up, right?  You can't just sit there too quietly or the lull will put you back to sleep.  In order for me to get my blood pumping and really get blisteringly fired up, do you know what I do?  Why, I listen to National Propaganda Radio, of course!  (That's NPR for the rest of you.)

Some of you are wondering how this possibly could get me fired up to go swimming and I say to you, HOW COULD IT NOT?!

Sometimes there are interesting things on there, personal interviews and what not.  I like how I can tune in to a station near my college town and hear all about the fun things going on at the library (not that I can attend since it is so far away, but I still get the station in and this makes me feel cozy in the land of happy memories) and at other good-times places.  

But then.  Oh, then.  Then there are times when they are speaking on such fantastic topics that I must yell at the radio and flail my arms around wildly screaming, "What are you THINKING?!  Are you even kidding me right now!?"  I can pretty much swim as fast as dolphins after an episode like that.

One of the more recent episodes that got my blood all pumped up before the workout had to do with the pathetic youth of society today.  Obviously, not all youth are complete dingbats.  I'd say a lot of them will turn out just fine.  But those kinds of people aren't going to get interviewed on National Propaganda Radio, let's get real.

The interviewer was asking 16-18 year olds if they had their driver's licenses.  All but one of them did NOT have a license and didn't care that they didn't.  This was a little pathetic, but their reasons for not having one was exponentially more pathetic and was the reason I felt compelled to begin yelling at the radio.  

Ready for this?  They said that they didn't need to go and hang out with friends because they had social media (facebook, Skype, etc.) instead.  They also said they didn't want to do something with people unless it was media-worthy (a.k.a. to take pictures of themselves pretending  to be hilarious and casual and hysterical and put it on facebook on their timeline).

ARE YOU SERIOUS?  ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDING ME?

They don't want to hang out with real live humans and have face-to-face contact with them, they want to hook up into their matrix instead and rock out.  This is so head-slappingly disturbing.

Basically, what has been created is a culture of completely self-absorbed people who truly believe that most of their life is on a stage.  Any other non-stageworthy aspect of their life is pretty much a pile of dung and not worth the effort.  Do you know what this says?  This takes people from the belief that MOST of life is work, MOST of life is everyday, day-to-day humdrum, and turns it into MOST of life ought to be on a stage or skip it.  This is so mental!  

Most of life IS work.  All of those things they don't show on TV or movies is the bulk of life.  You've to got to brush your teeth, take care of others, go to the grocery store, call to sort out things.  What a horrid shock it would be to live thinking the other way around!  Vacation is not a way of life.  It is a piece of life.  A teensy shrivel of it.  If you live seeking thrills, vacation, parties and the like, how seriously disappointed you must be.

This is how the next generation is being built.  Their poor little faces screwed into screens, thinking they should just forget about hanging out with their friends because they'll probably just sit around and talk (and probably not even break out the flourescent wigs and go-go boots, so what is there even to take a picture of for instagram anyway?).

The interview concluded with a dude who admitted that he mostly gets around because his girlfriend drives him around.  He commented, "Twenty years ago that would seem pretty pathetic, but that's just the way it is."

Indeed.  Yes, that is pathetic, little man.  Please, you need to learn how to drive so that you can go to your next party when  you live in a van down by the river.  It's gonna be real, yo.

Peace, love and look up, my friends,

Ms. Daisy

p.s. Just heard something else while on the way home - Disney is making a new toy/video game called "Infinity" (live forever in your avatar, LIVE!) targeted at little kids.  They plug a character toy into the video console and it pops up on the screen.  The toys interact with each other and with the child.  They concluded, "It will probably forever change how kids play."  Great.  Obliterate imagination and free thought at the root.  It is much easier to control a  society living in a quasi-reality, so let's start 'em young, baby!

1 gallbladder + 2 gallstones = surgery? Part 2

This is Part 2.  If you missed Part 1, please go here.

So after I nearly exploded from the irreprehensible behavior and carelessness of the surgeon, Dr. Stupidpants, I took a deep breath and got ready for the other end of the spectrum - a naturopath.

Have you ever seen a naturopath?  Rather, have you ever gone to a naturopath for health matters?  If you said no, well, I think you ought to try it.

Here's the thing.  You know how doctors now actually have no idea what is the original cause of your problem and they just want to give you prescription drugs to mask your symptoms?  Yeah, naturopaths don't do that.  They try to find out the source of what's wrong in your body and actually FIX it.  So weird, right?  I know.  It's like the hard work of being a detective and finding out what is wrong with individual people has gone by the wayside (isn't that a great phrase?  "The wayside".  Wow.  I bet there are whole piles of things on that wayside by all the talk I hear with that phrase!) and in its place we see roulette wheels of multicolored prescription pills.

When the prescriptions screw you up, you can get another prescription to fix the symptoms that were caused from trying to mask the original symptoms.  Wow.  It makes so much sense, doesn't it?

Yeaaah.

Anyway, back to the naturopath.  Some naturopaths do weird things, unconventional things...and these weird things strangely work.

For example.  Okay, you know how everything in the whole earth has some charge on it (positive, negative or neutral...is neutral considered a charge?  Anyway, you know what I mean.).  And our bodies are made up of chemical and electrical charges and flows - well, some people swear they can kind of tell what's going on somehow (I don't understand this science, so its all fuzzy from here).  (Not by boiling toads or doing weird witchy things.)  

ANYWAY.  I'll have to read more on that and report back to you some other time.  

My hubby had this constant smell of garlic in his nose.  (I thought he must have had some weird sinus infection or something.)  The naturopath said he was looking for phosphorus.  He took a liquid phosphorus (food) supplement for about 4 days and then one night the weird garlic smell went away.  The next morning he was going to take his supplement and he almost barfed.  His body got what it needed and told him in body language it was done with taking that.  He went in and asked her about it, she said the same thing.

In regards to the gallbladder, right now my poor hubster is eating a diet that he considers some kind of horrid sick torture.  It is a celiac vegan non-fat diet.  Basically, the poor guy can eat fruits, veggies...and quinoa.  My hubby is a foodie.  Steak, bacon, coffee, and cooking on the Big Green Egg are PASSIONS for him.  Now the poor guy has water and quinoa for breakfast.  It's a hard knock life.  But he's resting his gallbladder and his liver and getting stuff back into balance.

It's a heck of a lot better than the Dr. Stupidpants and his passion of slicing and dicing live humans in their gut regions option.

Keep your organs, peeps!

Peace, love and feel free to send any non-fat, vegan, celiac recipes right this way,
Ms. Daisy

1 gallbladder + 2 gallstones = surgery? Part 1

Howdy doody, m'peeps!  What I'm about to tell you here is some crazysauce with a cherry on top.  

It began like any other normal day...well, sorta.  For me.  For the hubby, it was a different story.  He woke up and went to a golf outing (please pity him for his unpleasant job).  Because my dear hubby is on an I.C. diet - that is, whatever "I see, I eat", he had a busy time of chomping it all up that day.  High fructose corn syrup cinnamon rolls made of 2198712 ingredients, inhumanely killed nitrate filled luncheon meats wrapped up in (I FREAKIN KID. YOU. NOT.) American "cheese" (which is pretty much the definition of our country's food ideals in all of its sick an vulgar glory being that it is NOT FOOD and is neon orange), antibiotic-injected ammonia washed diseased beef steaks, and the list continues.

Well for some reason (re-read with eyeballs bulging and the most sarcastic look on your face you can muster), he felt slightly unwell that evening after he came home.  The pain was severe.  He thought he was having the worst case of heartburn anyone could ever imagine.  He made me go to the store at 10:30 at night and buy poison for him, and by that I mean Tums and Pepcid, even though I was doing accupressure on his feet and offering him fennel tea.  (I returned the Tums and Pepcid, by the way, just in case you were wondering.)  Nothing helped.  Not even a little.

The next day (after sleeping very little), we had made plans to hang out with friends.  These friends are sweet and they made us a meal.  This meal included steak and a myriad of other things (including my homemade berry pie).  Being on the I.C. diet, he had a bit of everything.

And then we went to the E.R.

He was acting as if a sharp-clawed alien was crawling through his bellybutton and eating his organs from the inside out.  

They suggested he may have gallbladder issues.  But since the awesome ER was so busy, they couldn't see us and we ended up going home before being seen.  WAY TO GO.

The next day was Sunday and we called the on-call doctor.  She said that he sounded as if he may have gallstones and to make an appointment for the following day to come and get an ultrasound.

We did.  The ultrasound confirmed the presence of two gallstones.  The doctor (TOTALLY LIED) said we should talk to this surgeon, not because he would need to have surgery necessarily, but because this guy was a gallbladder specialist.  (LIES TO THE EXPONENTIAL MILLIONTH POWER.)

Today we went to talk to the charlatan surgeon.  Remember the time I found out my Dad was spraying mercury on his throat and I was about to invent new swear words?  Chalk this up as a similar day.  

I have to tell you this because I am about to die of implosion if I don't.  This guy was the maniac psycho that L.L. Cool J must have been talking about in Mama Said Knock You Out.  Yep, f'realies.

We go in.  We sit in A CLOSET.  Yes. Not kidding.  It had a mini-exam table in it and a bi-fold door and made you feel like a very important person NOTATALL.  Dr. Surgeon McStupidpants comes in, shakes our hands and asks my husband how old he is.  He looks at the form my husband just filled out for him and remarks, "You're healthy!"  He draws a picture of a liver, a stomach, a gallbladder and a pancreas.  He points to the gallbladder and says, "This, you don't need this.  It's for nothing.  Lie down."

My husband lays back on the table (as we play Twister trying to get around each other in the closet to trade places).  Dr. McStupidpants pulls up his shirt and says, "I cut you here, here, here and here.  Very easy.  You be back home - one day!  Here, do the paperwork."

Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmwhatthecrapjusthappenedhere?

I interrupt Dr. Stupidpants, "Excuse me, Dr. Stupidpants (I only thought that bit), what percent of patients still have gallstones after their gallbladder is removed?"  (I have been researching, my peeps!  It happens.  The liver takes over your gallbladder's function and you can get them again, except for now, you're totally screwed since if you take out your liver you instantly die.)

Do you know what this joker says?  "ZERO PERCENT!  Gallbladder all gone, goes to gallbladder heaven, ha ha ha!  Keep in a jar, ha ha ha!  Say, 'Look! Big gallstone!'"

This dorkface had now lost all credibility possible.  My husband had to ask him to look at the ultrasound pictures (which he could not figure out how to open) to see his gallbladder to see if we may determine a) how many gallstones there are and b) what is the current state of the gallbladder and c) if there is anything of note we should be aware of.  

Did he talk about the function of the gallbladder?  No.

Did he ask us if we had any questions?  No.

Did he offer any options besides "I cut you here, here, here and here"?  No.

Did he look at my husband's anatomy before deciding on surgically removing his gallbladder?  NO.

Did he tell the truth about possible complications post-surgery?  No.

Did he put us in a closet?  Yes.

If I would have looked at him pensively and asked him to take out my gallbladder too, would he have?  YES.

Did he have awards on his wall saying he was a great doctor?  Yes.

Was his mom apparently on the council that decided to give him that award?  Who knows, she's probably dead, he probably took out all of her organs and threatened the others who were voting on it, "You say no, I cut you here, here, here and here!"

Yep.  Next time, I'll tell you what we ended up doing.  Let me give you a clue: it wasn't getting surgery with this joker.

Peace, love and I punch him here, here, here and here,
Ms. Daisy

GMO passion: O'Leary makes golden calf of Monsanto, girl gets bullied for not joining him

Holy smokes.  Have you heard of Rachel Parent?  She is a 14 year-old activist who took on O'Leary (a CBC TV host) regarding GMOs.  She has founded her own organization to fight to get GMO products labeled, does speeches and is passionate about young people having a voice about where their future is going (not to mention the future of the earth itself).

She is intelligent and well-spoken.  She is bullied and O'Leary tries to shove her into a corner and trick her but she slides out from under his Monsanto-loving finger pointing looking thoughtful and poised.  He, however, looks like he needs to pick on someone his own size.  It's really sick.  

She has a website GMO-News.com

I don't know what else O'Leary stands for (besides being in mad love with GMOs), but this interview makes him look like a cross between a bully, a buffoon and a dufis.

A 14 year-old is changing the world.  Check it out.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIXER_yZUBg

The weirdest thing EVER

So are you ready for weird?  I do not know why this happens, BUT.  Apparently it is rather common.

Ready?

What's 4+3?

(Please tell me you said seven.)

Okay, now please name a random tool.

Okay.  This may be less random than you think.  Apparently it's like 99% that most people in the world will say (or think) the word "hammer".  Did you?  If you didn't, you're probably a sociopath and you should go get psychotherapy or something OR you just HATE to conform and you guessed in your head that people would say hammer so you said size 7 allen wrench or something random just to show 'em.  

Show who?  Oh.  Yeah.  Them.

Good idea.

Yes, this is short and it contains pretty much zero percent information that you can use, but at least you have something to do today as you walk around and randomly test it out on friends, family and if you're that type, strangers.

Is it because a 7 looks kind of like a hammer?  Like if I would have said, what's 0+1 and name a tool, would you have said flat head screwdriver?  One cannot really tell.

And this reminds me of the other thing you do (yes, admittedly when you're about 8):
What color are clouds?
What color are your teeth? (Please say you have white teeth?)
What color is a piece of plain printer paper?
What does a cow drink?

And people say milk.  But they don't.  Unless they're itsy bitsy teeny calves, they drink water.  (I suppose this would not work on a farmer very well.)

Is it possible that summer vacation is rotting out my brain?

Peace, love and happy birthday to about 10 of my friends today,
Ms. Daisy