Cleaning Naked: Confessions of an occasional nudist

I’m interested to see what combination of search terms will bring people to this post. And how many will end up here hoping for something much more scandalous that they are going to find. In any case, welcome to those of you who found this post by searching “naked” or “nude.” Alas, it’s not really going to be that kind of blog post.

It seems spring has sprung here in lovely South Carolina. The daffodils have come and gone, the bees are a abuzz and my neighbors have returned to their porches to sip sweet tea (or spiked lemonade, depending on the time of day…) If you’re a nerd like me, this can only mean one thing: spring cleaning season has arrived! Here is your excuse to run to the store and stock up on buckets and gloves, sponges and spray bottles.

Before I get to the list of a few of my favorite (cleaning) things, I need to make a confession. I fully subscribe to the theory that you cannot get a tub/shower clean if you don’t get in it…nude. Yep. That’s right. I clean my bathroom naked. Oh the (in)humanity! I used to clean the bathroom fully clothed, but in my junkiest clothes, I found myself hesitating to really get in there to spray and scrub like a tub needs to be cleaned. I avoided product (bleach stains, hello!) and didn’t want to walk around in wet clothing. So that left me with one option. Strip down and get to work.

It’s actually a fairly genius system. I can scrub and spray to my heart’s content. When I’m done, I just rinse off. No bleach stains. No drippy clothing. Just a sparkling clean tub – and body.

I have a standard cleaning kit I use for the bathroom. Below you shall find a few of my favorite products…

Method Flushable Tub-n-Tile Wipes

Ever feel like certain people using your toilet could use a little…coaching? Practice? Aim? Set this hardworking package of our flushable wipes nearby, and you (or, ahem, he) can wipe and flush at any moment for an instant clean. Great for clean-ups all over the bathroom — sinks, countertops, faucets and tile — and they’re always septic tank friendly. Plus they smell like eucalyptus mmmmint. 

Boston Warehouse Glamour Glove Set in Pink

I have a unique set of gloves for dishes, kitchen cleaning and bathroom cleaning. Call it OCD if you must, but quirky pairs like these ensure that the gloves for the toilet bowl are never confused with the gloves for the salad bowl. And that means we’ll all live to see another day. 

Alessi’s Merdolino Toilet Brush

With a name like “Merdolino” (which I am pretty sure roughly translates to something along the lines of “lil turd”) how could you NOT love this unforgettable toilet brush work of art. Alessi’s take on toilet cleaning is an interjection of style fit for any throne, and far surpasses the crappy (pardon the pun) toilet brushes of yore. Style, however, does not come cheap. This brush will set you back $55. 

Barkeeper’s Friend

You are probably looking at this packaging and thinking, “Egads! Their branding doesn’t look like it has changed a bit since the 1970s.” I wasn’t alive in the 70s, but I suspect you are right. And that is probably because it was just as awesome in 1978 as it is in 2012. Actually I just did a google search, and it turns out Barkeeper’s Friend has been around since 1882. I guess that means they’re doing something right. Hit up your local dollar store and stock up. 

Poo-Pouri

What more can be said?

 

Squirt & Mop Hard Floor Cleaner

Another gem from Method. I love this product because my dog has yet to learn how to put on a pair of shoes. I feel better knowing his paw pads aren’t being exposed to harsh, toxic chemicals. Now if only I could figure out a way to talk him into doing the mopping….

So what’s in your cleaning arsenal? Has your cleaning routine gone green? Do you have a cleaning recipe for success? Share your tips in the comment section below, or send me a photo of your recent before and after cleaning job. Spring cleaning geeks unite! 

Guacammmole.

This is amazing. Stop motion + guacamole. Be still my beating heart. And rumbling tummy.

 

Elegy for a Man Named Mutt

My great uncle Mutt passed away last week. And the world is a little less of a place this week as a result.

This is a letter I sent to a friend in 2010. I remember the day vividly.

Saturday May 30, 2010

My Great Uncle Mutt’s real name is Ivan.  Save for the mail on his kitchen counter, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone refer to him as “Ivan.”

Unlike the majority of relatives on my Mom’s side of the family, my Uncle Mutt did not live in Wichita until very recently.  My mom used to tell me how Mutt was a former beatnik.  For the longest time, I had no idea what that meant, but I knew it made him fascinating in a way that always made me want to sit by him at family gatherings. Even as a small child I remember feeling transfixed by Mutt.  He is the type of old, gentle soul who walks into a room and people just want to know him. They want to be liked by him. And when everyone else in the world would say to me “Amy, you are your father’s daughter,” Mutt would walk through the door and marvel “Amy, you remind me so much of  your mother.”

It was only around the age of 15 or so that I finally realized Mutt’s companion Terry was more than a roommate.  It never phased me before that…or after. I loved Uncle Mutt for his knowledge of art and film and the intricacies of cultures of countries I had never even heard of.  I loved that in a sea of chattering loud women, Mutt, a former social worker, could sit quietly and soak in every tidbit of the conversation going on (verbal and nonverbal.) I loved that his coffee table wasn’t a coffee table, rather some sort of refurbished door from an old Italian villa. And whenever I visited, he took the time to tell me about the art on the wall. 

Of all the conversations with Uncle Mutt, the one I remember the most is the day he declared “Fresh flowers are as essential to life as food.”

He isn’t just a man who speaks it, he is a man who lives it.

Mutt isn’t doing well.  His health has been in rapid decline since Terry passed several years ago. I often wonder if his condition is tied to true malady  or a truly broken heart. You see, it turns out not all the art and films and Italian doors in the world cannot compete with the love of your life. You can buy more everything, but you can’t buy more love. 

We went to visit Uncle Mutt today. I noticed that he has a picture of Chihuly’s glass ceiling at the Bellagio framed on his kitchen counter. He obviously loves it, as people only take the time to frame the things they truly adore.  That ceiling is my favorite thing in Vegas, competing only with the water show outside, which gives me goosebumps and makes me leak from the eyes. I remember the first time I saw this particular show, I was in awe. It seemed all of Vegas was left speechless, too. From the smallest children to the drunkest drunks, it made people stop. On the sidewalks. On the streets. It hushed the crowd and captivated everyone.

If the flashes of light people talk about when they return from the brink are real, I have to imagine that passing from this life into another is not unlike “Time to Say Goodbye” at the Bellagio Fountains. All the madness and chaos and multi-million dollars of the surrounding hotels and casinos fading into the background. Time stops as a life gently folds in on itself, and a soul is escorted from this place in one final, golden show.

We have a huge Chihuly installation at the Franklin Park Conservatory in town.  I think next weekend I will dust off my camera and go to the conservatory to take pictures of our Chihuly to mail to Mutt.

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Wherever you are now, dear Uncle Mutt, I hope you have a Chihuly garden to call your own.

The Lost Letter: The Story of Almost Us

[A letter: December 2010]

The art of losing, they say, isn’t very hard to master. And just like every person on this planet I have lost something; people and places and memories that certain smells and seasons and dates unexpectedly return to me. I traded and bartered parts of who I am and who I was for bits and pieces of the people and places and memories I wanted to keep. Just like every person on this planet I have been dented and dinged and bruised somehow. Smart enough to know better, but not smart enough to do better, because I believed and hoped and dreamed. And believers and hopers and dreamers are the exact kinds of people who push themselves too close to the edge of a high shelf just to take in the view. We’re never concerned with the fall. We are reckless people, fearless in the face of fear. We gamble, punch drunkenly, and take chances despite the odds. We spin madly out of control with our heads thrown back, laughing wildly.

Just like every person on this planet I am learning how to forgive and remember that every person here has a heart and wishes and desires and wants, too.

There is a box on the shelf of me somewhere. Its contents? Nine yellow balloons. Two magnets. A field sunflowers happy anywhere but the vase. A once upon a time flying jellyfish waiting to transport us to lunch or float us away into outer space.

Today I have returned the pixie dust to the proper jar. The spines of books and thoughts color-coded and realigned. Bedtime precedes the lavender hour these days. Before voices soften and the first morning birds begin to sing.

If once upon a time, someone would have told me, in a certain tone of voice, “Some people will change you without your permission,”  I would still have done it all the same.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

No one lives (or loves) to tell the story of the almost us.

Giveaway Winner + a nostalgic lesson in doughnuts

Congratulations to Rufina, the winner of the Vintage-Inspired Measuring Spoon Giveaway! You can check out her blog, Being Rufina, here.

A special thank you to EVERYONE who took the time to enter and share their nostalgic kitchen-centric utensils and memories. I was really inspired by your stories, and will be sharing a few of them (as well as one of my own) in upcoming posts. In the meantime, here is Rufina’s memory. Happy reading – and happy weekend!

As soon as I read the requirements, I ran to my kitchen.  I started rummaging around in one of my utensil drawers, sure that I still had kept it, and I found not just one, but two!  My grandmother’s doughnut cutters.

My father always says, “No one makes doughnuts the way my mother used to make them.”  And he is right.  I can almost smell them now.  The sweet, cinnamon, sugary, rich scent of fresh frying homemade doughnuts.  I used to watch as my grandmother made the dough, rolling it out on her large wooden pie board, and cutting them out with these very cutters.  The “holes” were saved too,  fried up. Nothing went to waste.  And Lucky me, I also saved her recipe box, so I still have her handwritten recipe card for this family treat.

Typing this out exactly as written:  (I have no idea who Peon was, but obviously someone who’s doughnut recipe my grandmother found good enough to copy!)

Peon’s Doughnuts

2 eggs, 3/4 c.W.Sugar, 1/4 tsp. nutmeg

1 c. milk, 2 1/2 c. flour,3 level tsps. B.Powder

1 tablsp. Crisco, 1/2 tsp. salt

 

Beat eggs, sugar, Crisco-

Sift flour, B. Powder, nutmeg, salt

Mix alternatively with milk.

That’s it!!  No other instructions.  I will have to rely on memory to try and get the dough thickness right. I believe she fried them in Crisco. When I try to make these to surprise my father, I will have to wear one of her cherished aprons that I also kept.

I remember they always seemed to turn out perfectly, and then my grandmother would lay the fried doughnuts and doughnut “holes” out on paper towels, sprinkling with icing sugar, regular sugar or else leaving plain.  It always amazed me how a flat disc cut out with these cutters would puff right up into a perfect doughnut,  which was then served warm, soft and so delicious.

Simply the best childhood nostalgic memory, taste and smells.  Thank you for bringing it back in full living color to me!!  

A Letter to an Author: Chasing Narwhals and Saying Hello

Writers writing writers. It’s a bit like bears riding bikes. It happens.

I read your book today, cover to cover.

From a writer to a writer, thank you for this.

I have always found it strange to self-identify as a “writer.” In my experience, when you tell people, “I am writer,” they look at you as though you’ve just announced you are leaving the priesthood to track narwhals for the rest of your life.

It’s even stranger when it’s the others who identify you as a writer. “I’ve been doing this since first grade,” I want to tell them. “And I won a handwriting contest in 6^th grade. You won’t believe what I can do on a steamy bathroom mirror and a grocery list.” (But that would be a little snotty, I realize.)

Sometimes I cannot tell whether I am the happiest girl to ever pick up a pen or if I rue the day ink was born. Nobody tells you what this world is really like. (Though I suppose I could have guessed had I paid more attention to the infinite bottle-bottom wisdom of Hemingway, Bukowski and Anais Nin.) Writers live in a suspended state of voluntary solitude, surrounded but alone. We speak to everyone and no one. The feelings, the thoughts, the experiences are ours, but we fling them out into space and onto the page, only to give them away to strangers and sometimes-acquaintences like cards at Christmas.

(Sometimes, I admit, I am tempted to run back to the mailbox to reel them in again.) “These are mine! They are special. You cannot understand.” And then there is that one stranger who sends a note in broken English reading: “You remember to people that life is wonderful” and the world makes sense again.

I read your book today, cover to cover.

You were like finding tribe. Your words transported me to the prime of my utter recklessness. When everything I said and did was a dichotomous soup of “fuck you” and “I love you,” pulling closer and pushing away, with you but somehow against you. (The royal “you,” I mean.) I wrote nightly letters, odes to the secret lives of neon lights and ponderings about the first person to add chili powder to chocolate ice cream. I wrote about bouquets of wooden spoons and a master plan to make the weeping willows stop weeping. I was propelled toward paper by a treacherous muse. The kind I had no business talking to (and certainly had no business loving.)

The broken heart I could have forgiven. It’s the songs and places that bothered me the most. With enough time and thread, you can patchwork a heart back together again. I wish I could say the same for the city.

But I suspect you already know all of this. And after reading your book, I wonder if, at the end of the day, broken hearts and road trips are really all that different.

I read your book today, cover to cover.

You remembered to me that the world is wonderful.

All of this is just to say…thank you.

And hello.

Recipe: Spinach Artichoke Dip

At least you’ll never be a vegetable – even artichokes have hearts.   amelie

Choke a guy named Artie once, and nobody ever lets it go. (Just kidding.) Ah the mighty artichoke. What’s not to love? Spiky outer leaves provide a suit of armor, protecting the tender heart within. (Sounds like a metaphor for several of my ex-boyfriends…) During the 16th century, it was considered scandalous for women in the 16th century to partake of the pleasures of artichoke eating. (It was also thought to be a potent aphrodisiac for men.)

A few centuries down the road and into future, it’s obvious the artichoke should be welcomed into all our diets – men and women alike. Research has identified the artichoke as a natural antidote to a host of ailments including heart disease, cancer and birth defects. Among antioxidant-rich foods, artichokes are often overlooked, however a July 2006 study tested the antioxidant levels of more than 1,000 foods and beverages and found that artichoke hearts had the highest level among all vegetables measured. They came in fourth among all foods and beverages analyzed in the study. That means artichokes beat out more commonly referenced antioxidant-rich foods such as blueberries, red wine, chocolate, coffee and tea.

Cynara, the first Myth Artichoke
According to an Aegean legend, the first artichoke was a lovely young girl who lived on the island of Zinari. The god, Zeus was visiting his brother Poseidon one day when, as he emerged from the sea, he caught sight of a beautiful young mortal woman. She did not seem frightened by the presence of a god, and Zeus seized the opportunity to seduce her. He was so pleased with the girl, who’s name was Cynara, that he decided to make her a goddess so that she could be nearer to his home on Olympia. Cynara agreed, and Zeus looked forward to the trysts to come whenever his wife Hera was away. Soon thereafter, Cynara began to miss her mother and grew homesick. She snuck back to the world of mortals for a brief visit. After she returned, Zeus discovered this un-goddesslike behavior. Enraged, he hurled her back to earth and transformed her into the plant we know as the artichoke.

A few tweaks to a favorite spinach dip – and voila! Delicious artichokeness with a low-fat spin.

——————————————————

SPINACH ARTICHOKE DIP

Ingredients

• 2 cans artichoke hearts, unmarinated
• 1-1/2 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
• 1 block chopped spinach, frozen or fresh
• 1 8-oz brick reduced fat cream cheese
• 1/3 cup low fat sour cream
• 1/4 cup light mayonnaise
• 2 garlic cloves, minced
• optional, chopped water chestnuts for added crunch

Instructions

Preheat oven to 350 F. Mix all ingredients in a baking dish, reserving 1/2 cup mozzarella for toping. Bake for 15-20 minutes. Sprinkle additional 1/2 cup mozzarella and broil until the cheese browns. Serve with tortilla chips, french bread, pita slices or keep the calorie count down and serve with crudites.

 

 

Hostess Gifting: From flower pot to teapot

Headed to a surprise party tonight. So, what to get the girl who has everything? Flowers, of course! I found the most gorgeous, cheerful bouquet at Trader Joe’s this morning. (Granted, I’m a sucker for sunflowers.)  I think fresh flowers are a lovely gift, because they’re something we so rarely buy ourselves. Along with other girlish niceties like beautiful soaps, indulgent, one-bite, luxury chocolates, linen water and quality stationary, just knowing I have fresh flowers in my house seems luxurious and special.

If you’re anything like me, you have roughly a dozen clear glass vases stashed in cupboards and on shelves throughout your home. I try to avoid adding to clutter when I gift-give and always prefer pops of the unexpected to the traditional. On the way home from Trader Joe’s I stopped at our local Home Goods and stumbled across this gorgeous, lidless teapot and was instantly sold. What is more ladylike than tea and flowers?

I trimmed the flowers down quite a bit and spent some time arranging to end up with a cheerful, feminine arrangement that seems to smile and exclaim “Life is good!” – exactly what I was hoping for.

Next time you give the gift of flowers – think outside the vase. Mason jars, antique containers, old kitchenware, vintage coffee cans, teapots, pitchers – all make wonderful and unexpected additions to a simple bouquet. And when the flowers are gone, the recipient is left with a useful container she can use again and again.

Or, if you’re into repurposing, here is a great tutorial from Pinterest on giving those tired, clear vases new life.

What’s the most unique flower container you’ve ever given or received?

SWEEPSTAKES: Vintage-inspired measuring spoons

I recently came across these vintage-inspired measuring spoons in a local shoppe and fell in immediate love. They are so preciously vintage it’s like taking a ride in the way-back machine. They spoons gave me flashbacks to my childhood, evenings gathered around the t.v. sharing a bowl of buttery popcorn from a Pyrex “spring blossom” bowl. (An artifact that had somehow survived 20+ years by the time I came on the scene.)

The company that produced the spoons, Resourceful Products, specializes in producing kitchen gadgets inspired by yesteryear. I love that they call their products “reborn.” According to their packaging, they are inspired to bring back many of the helpful everyday gadgets that have been out of production for many years. In many cases customers have broken a treasured family heirloom which gave them years of service in their kitchen. Many of us form bonds with our kitchen implements because they remind us of family time growing up, and of early childhood memories. Resourceful Products id devoted to bringing back the products from yesteryear which still have a place in today’s kitchen. 

The set comes with one each: tablespoon, teaspoon, 1/2 teaspoon and 1/4 teaspoon. Top rack dishwasher safe.

If you’d like to add this lovely little set of “reborn” spoons to your kitchen collection, here’s how you enter in the contest…

1. LIKE ReVeg of the Nerd on Facebook (click here to open the Facebook page in a new window)
2. Send an e-mail with subject line “Spoons” to RevegOfTheNerd@gmail.com. In the body of your e-mail be sure to include a food, recipe, kitchen tool, taste or smell that makes you nostalgic for your childhood. 
3. Read the official rules below. By entering the contest, you agree to all outlined terms and conditions.

 

 

OFFICIAL RULES

1. No purchase necessary. One entry per entrant.
2. Winner will be chosen at random using random.org.
3. Odds of winning based on number of qualified entries received.
4. This sweepstakes is open to United States residents at least 18 years of age residing in the contiguous 48 states.
5. Entries will be accepted between START date: 3/2/12 to END DATE: 3/9/12
6. Prize: One (1) set of RPI Group measuring spoons. Retail value: less than $10
7. Winner will be selected and announced on 3/10/12.
8. Winner will be notified by e-mail. If potential winner forfeits or fails to not claim prize within ten (10) business days, prize will be re-awarded at sponsor’s sole discretion. All prizes will be awarded.
9. Liability release: By claiming prize, winner agrees to release the sweepstakes sponsor from any and all wrongdoing or harm that may result from prize or sweepstakes. In order to claim prize, winner must furnish proof of identity, address and birth date in addition to signing a liability release form.
10. Sponsor: Amy Taylor, revegofthenerd[at]gmail.com
11. State/jurisdiction sweepstakes is being regulated in: South Carolina, United States.
12. By submitting an entry, entrant agrees that they have read complete official rules for the giveaway and agree to all stipulations, requirements and points therein.
13. By submitting an entry, winner agrees to give sponsor right to publish name and likeness. A list of winner(s) names can be obtained by e-mailing revegofthenerd[at]gmail.com.
14. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.