Apparently, I'm in love with Jessica Simpson.

I'm not really sure how it happened, either. Okay, let me explain. It's been a terrible week for me. There have actually been some good parts, but it's the crap that I recall the most. First, my car rolled over 100,000 miles. I know, doesn't sound drastic, but I had a Certified Saab, which is covered for 100,000 miles. So my warranty is up. And my axle is leaking now. Of course. The next day, I broke my favorite wine glass. I have one left, but really, what good is one wine glass? They are crystal, and I bought them as a 21st birthday gift to myself. Strange that they lasted me almost exactly ten years? Oh well, what can you do? Thursday, I drove the Husband's truck to work. Upon jumping out of the driver's seat, I broke the heel to my red shoes. Truth be told, I only liked that they were red. I think they were a little dowdy, but they were the right price at the right time. More than a year ago. So I had to go out on lunch and buy a new pair of shoes. Enter a pair of adorable Jessica Simpson booties. I couldn't find a photo, and I don't feel like dragging out the camera, as my ass has made a perfect indentation in the couch. Now, I don't usually give a second glance, but they were really cute. They're a beautiful black leather, and really, she loves Louboutins, so they can't be that bad, right? They're actually built much like Louboutins, where the platform is hidden inside the shoe, so the heel isn't so ridiculous. Because as much as I love a 4" heel, those who know me know that my gracefulness usually shows through at the perfect time. It's this reason that I have sworn I will no longer buy cuffed dress pants. Anywho, I'm at DSW, and these shoes are on the sale rack. I had to do the math three times to make sure I didn't screw up, these shoes ended up being $21.00. Seriously. Actually, it looks like there's something (paint?) on the inside of one of the heels, but I have some black shoe polish that I am sure will take care of business. If not, I have tons of Sharpies. But let's be honest, I am going to kill these shoes sooner or later, so why not buy them with a flaw? Then I won't be so upset the first time I trip over a curb. You should have seen me, though, I was all "hide them so no one else will take the box while I'm still shopping." I ended up going back on Friday to purchase a pair of Nine West 3" black heels, a staple I've sorely been missing in my wardrobe. I digress. Let's back up to Wednesday. I shuffle the kidlets out of the house and am herding them into the car. My sunglasses are on my head, and I go to buckle the son in. And whack my head on the door frame. And crack my glasses. My Oakley XS Fives (yes, they are kids, stop laughing) that I've had for six years. I've always bought Oakleys since I was in high school. They always had a smaller face frame that fits me well. Because honestly, I have a narrow head and really can wear kids glasses. And I've gotten used to their brown iridium lens. Tear. Actually, it hurt really bad. So today, I stopped at the Outlets to check out the Oakley Vault. And to stop by the Vans Outlet to get the son a new pair of kicks—only to find they were closed. Sigh. I found a pair of Oakleys I liked, but not a pair that I love. I'm picky, I like tortoiseshell glasses, as I think black frames are too severe for my skin tone. And the styles out right now for women don't ususally fit on my face. I look like I'm trying to fit in my mother's oversized glasses playing dress up. Or I look like a fly. We leave and head to the mall. I park at Macy's, and we walk in to accessories and Coach. I peel myself away from drooling on the new Parker bag and peruse the sunglasses, not expecting to find much. And in the end, I fell in lust with these: They are adorable, no? A pair of slightly rounded, narrow-fitting Jessica Simpson sunglasses with brown lenses. It was love at first sight. But I didn't buy them. Yet. They weren't on sale, they were $45. EVERY other pair was, except the JS ones. Of course. So I asked the lady in the Coach section (I was told they were the only saleswomen who could help) if by chance she had a coupon I could use. She turned on the attitude and was all, "Uh, no. We mail those out to our PREFERRED customers." I felt like I was suddenly at a Mercedes dealership asking if they could cut me a deal on an AMG, cause I'm on a budget. WTF??? My mother shops at Macy's quite often. Her favorite thing to do is go home and add up what her purchases should have cost her, since she uses specialty coupons and apparently holds the cashier hostage until she's paid only $23.47 for approximately $679.65 worth of accoutrements. Usually, if they have a coupon out, they will just scan one for you. Normally, I make sure I'm near an old lady while I'm asking because you know they have like six extras and will lend you one. Instead, here I stand, facing Cruella. She simply places them on the counter in front of me like she's teasing, leans against the back of the opposite counter, looks at me and says, "well, you can open a Macy's account, you'll get 15% off, and make payments on these glasses. I resist the urge to choke her. I don't want to make payments, I want 30% off, like every single other pair! I look up and realize that my children have tried on every Sunday's best hat and have left them on the floor, and are running around with berets on their heads. I look straight at her and say, "Daughter, Son, let's go, we're going home!" Because it would be a shame to pinch this woman's head off and risk getting that beautiful white leather bag dirty behind her. Incase you're in shock, I'm not the type that leaves my kids' mess behind. Matter of fact, when we go out to eat, the Husband tries to remind me that I am no longer a waitress and need to stop stacking, scraping, and aligning all the table items for easy pick-up. But this woman is lucky I didn't strangle her with a removable shoulder strap.

The Photographic Mama, better explained...

Some of you may or may not know, this past Christmas, the Husband gave me a Nikon D60, my first Digital Single Lens Reflex Camera. The rest of the story is that I sold my traditional (read: 35 mm film) SLR on ebay to further finance a DSLR. One of my goals when we moved up here was to get back into photography and shoot more often. After all, I minored in photography in college. Now, I'm trying to remind myself to take my camera with me everywhere. That's always been my biggest problem. Life happens, and I don't have my camera to chronicle it. Now, I was hopping around the blogosphere and found MCP Actions, specifically the post of which I swiped borrowed this: And this is exactly how I feel every time someone makes this comment. Like MCP and many of the bloggers that commented, a camera is solely a tool. Yes, there are people out there that can simply snap great images. But it takes talent to consistently create amazing images using composition. Is it easier to achieve Bokeh? Yes. Can a better sensor pick up more detail? Yes. Does that make everyone with a DSLR a photographer? No. Anyone can shoot in Auto mode. To quote one commenter, "Did people admire Julia Child for her oven?" No. Hey, I own a ton of pencils and paint, but that doesn't make me a fine artist. Matter of fact, Daddy would be so proud if he knew that the caliper he gave me makes me an Engineer. Are you with me? When I used to shoot with film, I worked with infrared film. I preferred Black and White infrared because I could develop and handle it, as working with color infrared meant I would have to send it out for other people to do my finish work. And that is precisely why I no longer shoot BW infrared—the lack of access to a darkroom requires I send out my film. That, and the fact that infrared film is $$$. Anywho, the camera I used was a Nikon FM10. The most basic, fully-manual SLR. To answer why, I once shot a wedding, and the uncle with his "Mac Daddy" Canon came over and asked me what I use. He made snide comments about my camera, to which I told him, "My camera can do anything that yours can. The difference is that mine doesn't have an auto setting." I still don't think he understood. Part of being a professional at anything is fully understanding what you are doing and how to use all your tools. I own plenty of wrenches, and while I have more understanding of vehicles than most women, there's a reason you don't find me fixing them. (Hint: read my last post). So to sum this all up, it's not the camera that takes great images. And yes, I want to wring a neck every time I hear how my camera takes great photos. I have, after all, won awards for photography.

The truth about me and electronics.

I've come to a point in my adulthood when I need to finally declare that electronics and I just don't mix. Even with a father that is an Electrical Engineer, I cannot be salvaged, I am afraid. Terrible, right? Can you feel his pain? Here's the thing. Growing up, we could rarely afford to replace things. Especially since my father had the know-how to fix everything. I'll save the tales of his frugalness leading all the way to reusing nails for another posting. But he raised me to always take care of the things you have, as my parents worked very hard for everything. And I believe I do. Apparently, all my appliances disagree, somehow. I tear through vacuums. I moved out of my parents' house twelve years ago. I'm on my fourth vacuum. Yes, I have two kids, a husband, two cats, and a dog. But really, I don't buy stick-vacs, so aren't most normal vacuums made for this? I don't suck up stuff that I shouldn't. I just want all the hair and dirt gone. But I guess that's asking too much. My current vacuum--if I had the money to spend on a new one, it would be at the curb. My old roommate, who is quite possibly the messiest person I know (Danielle, if you are by chance reading this, you know I love you, but I speak the truth). She has had one vacuum since we first lived together. We picked it out ten years ago. After I killed her mother's Kirby. She still has that same vacuum. It's just not fair. However, if anyone from Dyson would like to send a sample my way, I'll promptly use it, break it, and send it back to you so that you can tear it apart and see what has gone wrong. Anyone? Anyone? Shall I beg? I'm also on my fourth set of washers and dryers. In 11 years. (The first year, I made nice at the laundromat. They probably rejoiced the day I left.) In all truthfulness, the third set we sold with our last house as a ploy because I wanted new front-loaders. But don't worry, we made up for that—I'm on my second motor for my current dryer. No, I don't overload. I don't shove an entire sheep in there. I swear. Think it's still a fluke? I've killed two refrigerators. And my mother's brand new french-door refrigerator broke one weekend after my wedding, where she hosted the rehearsal party. I don't even know why, but electronics simply run screaming from me. Even though I still take care of everything I own, as I work my ass off for it. The latest casualty? My iMac. I know, I'm trying not to cry directly over the keyboard to my MacBook. We bought it back in 2004, when I finally convinced the Husband to go Mac and never look back. I ridiculed him when he bought a Toshiba laptop in 2006 and it needed to have its operating system reloaded after nine months. And twice since then. I've always babied my iMac, and it has been a true workhorse to me. I gave it more RAM when we moved, as I knew I would be doing more freelance and needed the power. My boss upgraded it to Leopard 10.5 last year so I could sync it with my MacBook and use my new Creative Suite. And now, I'm afraid it needs a new midboard, as there's no video card for an iMac. I really want to fix it, not replace it. I'm going to perform a few more diagnostic tests before I take it off to the Genius Bar, but it is considered a legacy Mac. (= more $$$). Until then, I will try not to break anything. Although, I will say, something in the house usually breaks right after we get the "project starter" coupon in the mail from Lowe's. It hasn't shown up yet, so let's hope everything holds together.

What to wear to a wedding.

The Husband and I have to attend a wedding today. After looking high and low, I have found the perfect dress, from New York & Company. When I tried it on, the salesgirl kept telling me it looked fantastic. Instantly, I did love it, the shape is perfect. I'll show a photo, but I couldn't find the exact dress, this is similar and is in the same color. I wanted a print, but settled for a solid, as the only print was black and white, and I really didn't want to buy another black and white dress. It's an odd color, but when I told the girl the short story, she agreed I should wear it and not be nervous of drawing attention. The truth: we really don't want to go to the wedding. The Bride and Groom have broken (yes, broken. Way past burnt) many bridges along the way. I won't discuss the Groom's antics. The Husband has been friends with the groom for many years. Not close friends, as the groom can never be counted on. Ever. So when we moved up here, mutual friends of ours knew them, too. They've had a tumultuous relationship, been unfaithful, but have been together for something like 12 years. No one's really sure why they are getting hitched now, but whatever. Months ago, the bride came to me to design her invitations. Since this is what I love to do, I agreed. I made a custom invite for her, and it was a nice set. Honestly, she didn't pick the concept I would have, but to each their own. She agreed to everything, and told me to go ahead and buy the paper to print them. So I did. I spent $145 on paper and got to printing. After about 25 invites, I ran out of ink and had to stop. The Husband and I weren't in a great financial place, so it had to wait a few days. I let her know the total cost of materials, I wasn't charging for my time. Three days later, I get an email that she has now decided to make them herself. She thought going with me would be the cheapest option. Enter my rage. I didn't even answer her. I'll spare you the details of her greedily-planned shower that you had to purchase tickets to attend. (!) I was able to take most of the paper back, save for about $30 worth. So imagine my surprise when we got an invite. The Husband says, "We're not going, right?" I answered, "The Hell we aren't! Honey, they're serving Prime Rib. The least they can do is buy us dinner." He agreed. So we'll go to the wedding. And I'll be the one in a blood orange dress: Yay!

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Edit: When we arrived, ALL the women were in black. Everyone. We went to the lounge, had a beverage, and I had two women tell me how beautiful my dress was. I had one girl that was all "Seriously, can we switch in the bathroom?" The Husband and I ended up seated next to them, which was fun. During the wedding, four other women told me how nce/sexy my dress was. Oh, and the Husband loved it, too. Score!

This is the one...

...where I tell you about my funny surgery story. I had an outpatient procedure yesterday, and it all went well, thank you. I still feel hungover from it, but I do feel a nap in my future. But let's get to the funny. So I'm in the surgery center, and while I'm not in the first round (read: 6am), I'm in the second round of surgeries. So patients are leaving, patients are coming, doctors and nurses are mulling about. Before they bring the Husband in, I'm noticing a few young doctors in the area. We're at a teaching hospital, so I'm pretty sure they are interns or residents. I notice one in particular. A tall, tanned, toned, young male doctor. Perhaps even younger than me. (gasp!) The Husband comes back, where we sit for an hour. And another hour. And wait. The nature of my visit requires a specific table, and the first surgery was running late. In the mean time the anesthesiologist, with his sidekick my hot doctor come to discuss knocking me out. The Husband is giggling as he walks away, knowing I was blushing. My surgery happens, I recover, and the Husband returns to retrieve me. We're waiting on discharge, and the young doc comes over to visit. He asks how I'm doing, I say I'm as fine as I can be in recovery. He asks if anyone told me about my rash? Umm, no... He says, "you got a rash across your stomach during the surgery, likely from the anesthesia, but it went away. If it comes back or anything, just call your doctor. Feel better!" and he's off. The Husband's first words to me? "HA! He saw you naked!" Sometimes, he's just so rotten.

Why I am in charge of the "stuff" around here...

For the past two weeks, the Husband has been working on a trailer. We got it free, but it needed some work. Specifically new lights and wiring. But with our crappy weather, he's only been able to work on it in spurts. Saturday, it was a nice day out, so he decided it was time to wrap it up. He gathers all his tools from the nether regions of the house, takes them outside and spreads them out. Now, he's looking for his two containers of connectors, wiring parts, and such. Can't find them. He stomps all over the house. I am working at the computer (I swear, it really was work), and he stops to ask me a handful of times whether I have seen these containers and if I have touched them. Each time, I say no. I ask if he's looked in a few specific places—you know, where they SHOULD be. Of course, answer is no. He's convinced it has been stolen, either from our driveway or from the back deck (lest I remind him, these containers belong in neither of these places). Stranger things have happened, but I can't help but recall Bill Cosby's stand-up routine where he's convinced someone "Came in my house and done stole my remote!" The Husband huffs and puffs and has now declared that he must make another trip to Lowe's because not only is he now out of electrical tape, but one of the side-marker lights was in there. Off he goes. An hour later, I am called to the driveway to help test lights. Yay, they work! Fast forward to this evening. Husband is getting home from work, gathering all his uniforms, as new ones are being issued tomorrow. If you haven't guessed yet, the Husband is the messy one around here. He sheds clothing and tends to leave it. This makes me want to burn his clothing and yell and scream and stomp my feet. But if I did that, the Daughter's behavior would be blamed on me, and I can't be having any of that. Anywho, he is collecting shirts out of his truck. And finds the containers INSIDE his truck. Under a pile of clothing. His words to me? "Well, if you drove my truck more often, it wouldn't be so messy. I wouldn't have lost them." I can't stand driving his truck because it looks like he's homeless. Which is also precisely why I hate him driving my car—he always leaves remnants of his day behind. This is why I remain "Keeper of all things."

I won!

It was like Christmas at my mailbox today! Well, actually, I didn't check the mail, it was on the table. But whatever. A week or so ago, I entered a contest over on SimplySweeter and I won this fabulous cupcake cookbook! Yay! I can't wait to try some out. A quick six-degrees-of-separation: I found Anne's blog through a search for Ovations for the Cure, a non-profit you should be supporting. I thought the cakes she does are great, and her writing is hysterical, so I stuck around. Come to find out, the company I work for designed the website for David Paul Salons, where she works outside of the kitchen. How funny, right? Here's where I divulge strange information. I actually don't own that many cookbooks. Crazy, right? I am a book designer, but I just don't buy cookbooks. Truth be told, over the past year, I have been given five cookbooks—and I don't know that I would have ever bought them on my own. Why? Well, let me tell you. And have your wine ready, my stories aren't like Cliff Notes. I have one cookbook that I refer to. It's the Joy of Cooking. I'm on my second copy, as my first copy was chewed on by my dog when he was a puppy and then the spine fell apart over the years. It was my first cookbook, I bought it when I first moved out of my parents' house. I love it, because it tells you the basics. How to buy potatoes and then bake them. How to filet a fish. How to purchase produce. How to make a Hollandaise sauce. How to assemble a dinner party table. Everything. Now, I don't usually follow recipes, but it's a great guide, and helped me back when I had no idea where to start and what to do. I bought it for a few friends who were struggling with the "I just moved out, now what do I eat?" delimma. And I bought one for a friend who has lived on his own for more than 18 years and couldn't cook much more than rice. (I wasn't being mean, he met a girl and wanted to know where to start to be able to cook for her.) A friend actually said hers is riddled with notes about the recipes, and I gasped because I didn't think I could bring myself to write in a book. I replaced my copy two years ago and made myself write my notes in there. It's hard for me to do it, but just the other week, I made my first note in pen (it was on the pancake recipe, which I think is too thin and boring). However, I realize I am like my mother—I live with my recipe box. My mother never had a cookbook. And she cooks All. The. Time. My mother will clip recipes and put them in her box. She still has the Nestle Toll House wrapper from the semi-sweet morsels in her box from the first time she made them. And she pulls it out every time she makes a batch. Her box isn't organized, but these clips being on all sorts of papers is how she knows what to look for. I got her a new box a few years back, but I think she still has her red plastic one somewhere. So, back to my story. I use one cookbook. I actually have the Gourmet Magazine's cookbook, but I hate it. It's not written for the everyday cook. But I keep it because I think it's designed beautifully. And, it stands opposite Joy to hold up all my copies of Everyday Food, where most of my other recipes come from. This year, I was given I'm Just Here for the Food by Alton Brown, whom I love; and Cookwise, an informative cookbook that I don't use, namely because I like Joy better. But they are books and I can't give them away. Perhaps when I have more than two readers I will do a giveaway. Because I am not even sure those two readers will read anytime soon. Wait, I lied. I do use another cookbook. The Donvier Ice Cream Cookbook. Most of the time, I wing it. But, the company I freelance for is the publisher. So a few years ago, when I was in the office, we did a reprint, and the manager ordered enough books for everyone in the office to have one. But again, I don't think I would buy it. I'd rather wing it. How do you cook? What books do you use?

The Wonder Drug...

Okay, not exactly a drug, but it could be. In our house, I use a lot of distilled vinegar. By a lot, I mean I go through a gallon roughly every two months. But there's a million uses for it. I have been using it in my laundry for over a year, and it does well with dingies, but also acts as a fabric softener/static repellent. But, I do this religiously since I also make my own detergent. I also use vinegar to clean my tile floors. At one time, I did wonder as to whether it actually gets them clean, but then I tried it. It does. I've used it to clean windows for years, actually with a coffee filter (no streaks, no shredding). I clean my coffee pot with it as well. But, while I was avoiding doing some work, I was over on the Pioneer Woman's blog. And I totally forgot about her use--washing her hair! She, like many small-town people—us included—has hard water. And she washed her hair and it worked wonders. So I tried it tonight. I can't believe how my hair feels! It's like I deep conditioned it, but I only used the vinegar. Okay, well it had been over 36 hours since I showered (don't judge), so I did wash my hair first. But I didn't condition. I can't wait to see my hair when it dries, I hope it's back to shiny! I can't use the hairdryer, because the whole house is sleeping. The Husband was laughing at me because I keep playing with my hair. Scared yet? Just you wait, I am full of useless knowledge. Like how vegetable oil can get sliver splinters out. And.. never mind. So go, take your shower with vinegar!

Just... Can't... Stop...

Every year around this time, I start debating whether it's time to hang up the apron for the summer. It's normally hot (which it's not right now), and incredibly muggy (which it is), and usually I can't bear to be in the kitchen for that long. But then I was somewhere in the interweb and found these: They are ginormous icing tips from BakeItPretty. These babies are the size of my palm. Now I'm going to have to go ahead and buy the large cupcake pan that I've been debating on. And they are packaged so nicely and I got free gift tags, too. I'll definitely be shopping there again. I may just have to purchase a kit for a baker-friend. I also ordered some pretty polka-dot liners and a megaphone cookie cutter to make some cheerleading cookies for her team. I can't wait to whip something up. Oh, wait, it's morbidly humid in my house. The best part, it's going to be in the high 80s and morbidly humid this weekend. And I have a TON of work to do. I can hardly wait.

Why GM won't die.

Those of you (my four loyal readers) who know me, know that I have been a lifelong GM fan. I was raised that way. Well, truth be told, my father loved his Mopars, but their transmissions suck, so we went all GM all the time. With the exception of 10 or so Nissan 300zxs. But, that happens when your mother works for a Nissan dealership. And while I've owned a Nissan and two Hondas, the rest have all been GM vehicles. And I am proud of that. I am sad that GM had to file bankruptcy, but I know it is for good reasons. They need to restructure. The UAW needs a lesson. No one is getting a raise in America right now, yet the UAW tends to think they are entitled to one. I think unions were a great idea in their day, but that day has changed. So what this means is that GM will restructure. They will emerge stronger than before. And sadly, that may mean they will have a future without Saab. I understand the logistics, but am sad that should I purchase another one, it likely won't be a GM Saab. Lesson for today: Buy American. And if you must go for imports, go for European. Because not too long ago, Europe went through this whole economy thing, and we all have a better appreciation for the things we make and love. I don't think the other big exporters are there yet.

There's a lot goin on around these parts...

Namely, baking. I know, it's almost summer and I've yet to shut down the oven. But I can't. I got a fabulous chocolate buttercream recipe that I could seriously make a batch just to eat it. And, next week, I start my Wilton Method classes at my local Michael's. I am well aware of how the Wilton Method is all about using Duncan Hines and such for consistency. I'm looking for techniques to make my own. Plus, course 3 is the fondant and gum paste course, those are what I am really looking forward to. While jumping around the blogosphere, I came across a divine creation—cake balls. And so I made some into cake pops. And let me tell you how divine they are indeed. I brought them to a cookout last weekend, and they were gone in minutes. Of course, if you top anything in chocolate ganache, it will likely be snarfed in record time. I had some left over and decided to use that instead. Why all the baking? A good friend and I may be starting a new venture of getting into a side business together. Doing cakes, cupcakes, chocolates and such. I am not quite sure when I'll actually have the time for this stuff, since it's the busy season for my freelance design work and I have more than I know what to do with. But I look at the cake business as something I can do for a lifetime. So right now, I'm supposed to be doing some freelance, but instead I made a batch of mini-cupcakes with dark chocolate icing. And I have a head cold that is kicking some serious arse, so I'd really like to just go back to bed. But I am reminded that I actually do have to save for school clothes and supplies this year, so I need to work instead. I guess it never really ends.

Product Review: Help, I have oily skin!

I have ridiculously oily skin. Normally, I don't even wear makeup because it just slides down my face by 11:00 am. But it's also sensitive, so my options are slim and expensive. However, I read about Boots No 7 Mattifying Makeup Base on a blog that I can't seem to find again. A few months ago, I decided to grow up and buy some adult face wash, and I have since been using Boots' face wash and toner, so I was so excited to read about this stuff. The just of it: it's a base that will soak up the oil in your skin, leaving your makeup on your face and not clogging pores. So I venture out to my local Mecca to pick some up. Imagine my surprise when it's on clearance for $4.98! Oh, how to make a Mama cry! I also purchased some Boots Botanics Eye Gel, Botanics Toner and No. 7 pressed powder, all on clearance! Yay! How does it work? I love it. You put on your moisturizer and then this stuff. You're not supposed to touch your face for a while, as it's a bit flaky until it starts soaking up the oil. But I shot a fashion show in Boston a few weeks ago, I put this stuff on at 6:30 am, the show was at 2:30, and I met friends out after the show for drinks. Around 1:30, I dabbed a paper towel on my skin (I lost my oil absorbing sheets), but my makeup looked fine at 7:00pm, as I was on my way to catch the T. I highly recommend this stuff! I can't say much for the Botanics line, I don't think the eye gel is helping much, but I'll know more when I run out of my No. 7 toner and start using the Botanics toner. So go get your Boots!

It was a great Mama Day...

Mother's Day was a nice one for us, the Husband let me sleep in (by sleep in, I mean long enough for him to corral the kids into signing their card and down some pop-tarts), I got an adorable singing Hoops and YoYo card—whom I love—and the shredder/slicer attachment to my Kitchenaid stand mixer. Now, some of the Mamas out there feel that appliances and their parts are a no-no for gift giving. Personally, I am all about praciticality. That said, a treadmill should never show up on my doorstep as a "gift." But the Husband knew I was eyeing this attachment, as I already have the ice cream maker attachment (also known as the best $60 I have spent on an appliance E.V.E.R.) So what did I use it for first? To make my own laundry detergent. Yes, you read that correctly. I made my own laundry detergent. I used my shredder to shred a bar of soap. And this excites me to no end. My cost should end up somewhere around $.03 per load for detergent. I also made felted wool dryer balls so I no longer have to use dryer sheets. I wouldn't say those are a money saver, as I spent almost $15 on the yarn (I don't have scraps of yarn laying around), but considering I think most dryer sheets are too potent, this is a great alternative. I rounded out the day by making the most divine homemade brownies ever. Oh, how I love Martha and her recipes. I made her fudgy brownies, and Oh. My. Goodness. I could have eaten the entire pan last night. Fortunately, I waited until tonight to polish them off. The kidlets were fantastic, I even got some work done and finished the laundry. It was a good day, and I hope all the other Mamas out there had a great day, too.