Oh, shut up. So I'm a day late. There HAPPENED to be something sort of important that happened yesterday. And that something made me rather effusively happy. Happy enough to at least temporarily divest me of the knowledge that, even as this country broadcasts message of unity, some people will still embrace ignorance willfully and spew hatred unabashedly. I've heard enough of it in the past 12 hours to dampen even the hardiest optimism, but IT DIDN'T WORK. I'm still grinning. Kiss my ass, racists. (That invitation is not extended to anyone whose religion requires them to live in a fear bubble. Those people should not be anywhere near my person, or at least maintain a 50-yard radius from my ass.)

All of which is to say: Whee!

Aherm. On to business. Despite the protestations of the snobby, I frequently consume wine from a box. Because it's affordable (four boxed bottles for $19 works out to a better deal than four normal bottles for $7 to $10 apiece) and efficient (less spoilage! less waste!), not because I'm indiscriminate. That's why I love this. In part because they call it a "cask." Classy, no? It's still a cardboard box with a vacuum-sealed pouch and a plastic spigot, but if you call it a cask with confidence, who's going to argue? And think of how long it would last! My wallet sings just thinking about it.

Until I read this post, I'd never heard of raclette, but once I discovered it's basically a way to turn just about anything into nachos, I was sold. So I was overjoyed to see this in my e-mail inbox. It combines my two favorite things—melty, gooey, delicious dairy, and an enormous kitchen appliance that only serves one obscure purpose.

This is positively a miracle. B bought it for me for Christmas, and while I realize it is unseemly and probably pathetic to conduct a love affair with plastic containers, I am now a veritable Tupperware-ist. Snapware is the Next Big Thing. It's more reliable; it's good looking; it's the right size ... oh my! That was unintentionally racy.

Remember how I have a salt-throwing problem in the kitchen? (Memory refresher: I'm clumsy.) This made me literally giggle out loud at work. I think they frown on that.

I'm currently tucked into my sofa, wearing a "Dog Whisperer" sweatshirt and my brother-in-law's pants and wishing desperately that my laundry machines weren't outside. It's cold out there. (Although somehow my heat is only set on 60, yet I'm overly warm. Sometimes it's nice to have minimal square footage. Or be impossible to please.)

I'd like to be cozied in front of a fire, long stems tucked beneath me, stirring chewy, angry coffee with these. Yes, I have long legs in this scenario.

OK, allow me a little indulgence this week—I found two cool things for J. One is this. It's a pet camera! You hook it onto your pup's collar, and it takes "pet's-eye view" shots at intervals. Allegedly it allows you to see what your pooch sees during the day. I suspect in J's case that's one big blur, followed by periods of lying down. Like having a seizure in time-lapse photography.

And then there's this. Which J would look QUITE handsome on if he lost about 35 pounds.

This is the crazy-coolest thing. It's like a Swiss Army knife for the kitchen—an herb crusher, a pestle, and a knife sharpener all in one! I think it is an incredible tool for anyone unlikely to stab themselves with a newly sharpened knife—i.e. not me.

You know that scenario wherein I drink steaming coffee and have a fireplace and look good in skinny jeans and have long legs? (Hint: I talked about it earlier.) I'd like to add this to that picture. In this scenario I take cream and sugar in my coffee. AND understand physics.

But in the spirit of this new era, I have to admit—as budgetarily unsound as it may be, had I not had to pay an insurance deductible and a plumber in the span of one week, I would absolutely buy myself this ring. It's a nice reminder.
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