I started packing for our Florida vacation 3 days in advance. To have the time to get everything done, I get up at six. As a result, I’m sleepy, and every action takes much longer. I think I’m being very irrational about the way I organize this process. 

Klara can identify herself and other people in photos and in the mirror. She says “Klara, papa, Money (that’s her successful aunt), Axie (her cousin), baba, Ninnie (another cousin).” But when I point to myself, she says either “baby” or “Klara.”

It’s a little creepy. 

A daycare opened in Montreal last month. $80 a day, $120 a day on weekends.  Play mats, games, drawings, kids’ favorite foods, group play. Nothing special, except for the fact that it’s for adults, and in particular, for corporate employees who want to feel like kids again and improve their team-building skills. 

No, really.

Not surprisingly, the adult daycare was created by a Ukrainian woman (i.e. massive childhood traumas). The perfect graduation gift for those few who do age out of this daycare eventually must be one of those books on “adulting.” 

It’s like you live your life blissfully unaware of how much crazy is out there. But hey, what do I know? I was too mature for daycare even at the age of 5. I was all like, “No, I don’t want to do nyam-nyam or go sleepy-bye. I want to sit here and read my Goethe in peace, thank you very much.” I fully anticipate being tortured with play mats and kiddie foods in hell. But clearly, one person’s hell is another’s $80-a-day relaxing hobby.

Another thing I don’t get from the previous link is why people throw baby wipes into the toilet. I’m not speaking on the moralistic grounds but strictly in practical terms. 

A toilet is pretty much the most uncomfortable place to change a baby. Even a garage is better for the purpose. How do people end up next to commodes with babies needing a change? Or do they walk to the toilet clutching a soiled baby wipes after a change? And what does the baby do in the meanwhile? Just stay on the changing table waiting? That’s one strange baby. 

Or do folks need baby wipes for themselves because they get hemorroides after guzzling all that greasy food?

It’s like I discovered an alternative universe where people live in a way that’s  radically different than mine.

Reader TomW says fatbergs are a result of cooking bacon. Just in case there are folks who don’t know, here’s a way to cook bacon without ending up with a cup of grease. 

Layer 3-4 paper towels on a plate. Put your strips of bacon on them.

Layer 3-4 paper towels on top. Press the whole thing down non-agressively.

Stick the plate in the microwave and cook on high until desired crispness. About 7 minutes, as I remember. 

All the grease will go into the paper towels.

I’ll never eat bacon again but I’m happy for those who can.

Im extremely puzzled by this:

People, please don’t pour any more grease down the sink. Really, is it so hard to tilt the fry pan and dribble the stuff with its meaty little chunks into an empty container and freeze it so you can throw it away? Or pour it over the dog food? Because let me tell you what happens when we all dump sticky stuff down the drain, night after night, meal after meal.

Where do people get so much grease that it’s actually pourable? And especially, how do they manage to produce it every night and after every meal? Also, are these, by any chance, the same people who believe that getting overweight is “genetic” and there’s nothing one can do to control it? 

I saw on TV a consumer product (aimed not at restaurants but individual consumers) that was predicated on people generating a lot of pourable grease at home. So fatbergs are definitely a thing. Before my current health issues, I used to be a “ton of carbs and meat at every meal” person but I never managed to generate grease. How do people do it?

Do you know those books that are so enjoyable that it’s almost impossible to read them? Because you need to stop after every sentence and let the aesthetic orgasm run its course in your brain? And they make you want to run outside, stop passersby and stick the page under their noses because they are wasting their lives if they haven’t read this? 

For instance, Hans Fallada is such a writer for me. He had an opioid addiction, by the way. Died early as a result. 

I’m posting this because I want to save this great link to a recipe for a vegan vegetable broth, which is a great alternative to the faddy bone broth. I haven’t made it yet but it sounds perfect. 

Reader fluffymog left a great comment about toddlers and control, and it’s so true that the need to exercise at least some measure of control over their world is central to little kids. 

Yesterday, for instance, Klara demanded cookies. I gave her one but she kept repeating “Mo-ah! Mo-ah!” before she even tried the one she had. So I gave her the whole box. She stuffed a bunch of cookies into her mouth, grabbed all she could with her little fists, and stared at me with a defiant look. 

“You can have all of them,” I said, pushing the box closer. 

She looked extremely happy, held the cookies for a moment, then dumped them all in the box, and ran away to her toys. She didn’t really want the cookies. She wanted to be in control, for once. 

And this is how I missed one opportunity to give her an eating disorder with “You’ll get more after you eat this one” and Co. 

July is usually the month with the smallest readership on the blog. Only the staunchest readers remain in the vacation month before the reader explosion in August. 

To do something nice to my most loyal readers this July, I take requests. What would you, folks, like me to write about?