I’ve had a request to talk about Miley Cyrus.  That’s right, someone (cough Ann cough) has REQUESTED a post from ME.  ME.

I’m clearly big-time.  You should all be thankful you knew me when.

Right then.

Miley Cyrus.

So here’s the thing . . . I don’t get all into the hype of the Oscar’s or the Tony’s or the AMA’s or the VMA’s or the POS’s.  Okay I made that last one up but it seemed appropriate at the time so let’s go with it.  Famous people just don’t do it for me.  I don’t care that they’re famous.  I don’t follow them relentlessly on social media or try to replicate the last outfit they were seen in on the cover of Cosmo or even buy Cosmo for that matter.

Except for maybe Jim Croce (who’s dead so it’s never gonna happen) I really don’t even have a desire to meet a famous person.

My Brother-in-Law recently invited me to a Sci-Fi Convention (it’s one of my geekier passions, let’s just breeze past it like I never even mentioned it) and after much debate I politely declined because I knew he’d want to get autographs. The thought of standing in line to meet an actor from Firefly felt akin to standing in a giant vat of water that slowly started to heat up.  At first it’s all cool, then you have a nagging building suspicion that something is not quite right till you’ve been there 45 minutes and your head suddenly explodes.  Clearly I’ve never been mistaken for a patient person.  And yes I swear it takes 45 freaking minutes to boil water on my 30 year old stove top.

My BIL is pretty cool though so it would have been nice to chat with him sans kiddos.  And since I’m a geek I wouldn’t have minded the experience one bit.  So mostly it was the line standing.

Now don’t get me wrong, I like music and TV and movies just like everybody else.

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Lately it seems like creatures are taking over.  Although to be fair The Husband seems to invite them in.  Take his worms for instance. In case you missed it Mike wrote an entire post about our 2000 new pets.  I’ve started writing my own post about the wriggly guys (my perspective is MUCH different), but as life gets in the way sometimes I’m still working on it.  I’m going to have to write two now apparently because Mike recently emailed me the following picture.

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Nothing like waking up from a nice nap to a picture of a mealworm happily chomping away on the carrots you bought because you thought your husband wanted to eat more veggies.  Nope, all for the worms.

For the record mealworms are creepy.  REALLY CREEPY.

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Wash your Hands

So maybe I made up the number in the title, but I do have pet peeves and I have a lot of them.  So many I’ve often thought of replacing my Twitter Bio with “I snark therefore I am.”  Would that be off putting?  I often wonder if my snark actually holds people at arms length sometimes.  I mean if you get too close I may just make fun of the smell of your deodorant (honey, we’ll chat about that later mmmmmm K?)

So one of my pet peeves is hand washing.  Especially with a toddler in the house I wash my hands a lot.  Before I eat, before I make dinner, after I eat, after I make dinner, after using the restroom . . . you get the point right?  Wash your hands people.  It’s just common sense.

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Fear my multitude of Evil Minions!

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If you’re one of the millions (And MILLIONS!) of loyal fans who can’t wait for me to take the reins… err keyboard… away from Joanna here at Midwestern Bite, you’ll recall a previous post where I admit I *might* be a Compost-aholic.

I’m saddened to say things have gotten worse and those large pallet bins were apparently just a gateway.  Unfortunately for my skeeved out wife, I’ve progressed.  That means working smarter, not harder.  You see, I’ve outsourced additional composting to a few thousand slimy, spineless garbage eaters.

Hi, my name is Mike and I’m a Vermicomposter.

Yep.  We’re the proud parents of composting worms.  Indoor composting worms.

Joanna was thrilled.

Before I show you their de-luxe rubbermaid apartment and how to best care for your subterranean underlings, here are a few fun facts I learned about worms along this journey.

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You heard me right.

I painted a picture . . .

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. . . and closed down the Ice Cream Shop.

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Okay that was a crappy bad lighting I-Phone snap, but my salted caramel ice cream with both peanut butter and hot fudge topping was a-freaking-mazing.  Trust me.  I know ice cream and I only spring for the good stuff.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Supermom invited me out to one of those gigs where a group of ladies (and the one brave guy that showed up) all get together in an artist studio and drink wine while an instructor teaches how to paint a pretty pretty picture.

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Let’s just settle this once and for all.

The Husband and I have been disagreeing for YEARS over this silk painting.

So I ask you . . . are the manatees humping?

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– Joanna

“Healing the World One Bite at a Time.”

That is the tagline for Polyface Farms – a family owned, multi-generational, pasture-based, beyond organic, local-market farm owned and operated by my personal foodie hero, Joel Salatin.

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Photo Credit to www.polyfacefarms.com

This is the Husband.  Thanks for letting me step in on one of Joanna’s off days to quickly introduce you to Joel, and more importantly his philosophy and practices.  This will not be an exhaustive review.  Merely a little something to hopefully whet your appetite so you’ll follow up with a few links below.

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Since Joanna started Midwestern Bite, I’ve regularly been following along with her new world.  I’ve seen some of her “internet friends” grow into real friends.  I’ve found a few blogs in this stereotypically girlie niche I enjoy reading every day.  I’ve also found plenty I like to make fun of around the dinner table.

If you were like me and stepped into this strange universe of Foodie-Healthy-Living-Move-Everyday-Look-At-My-Latest-Juice-Cleanse-Miracle-Cure-While-I-Instagram-My-Feet… or for that matter visited your local urban Hipster Market or smalltown suburbia Farmer’s Market… you’d see that eating Organic and/or Local is all the rage these days.

Mr. Salatin’s practices are a little different, and a lot revolutionary only because he’s a throwback to how things used to be done for hundreds of years, yet implementing those core agricultural truths with modern technology like lightweight portable electric fencing.  Farming was done very differently before cheap oil.  Before a chemical conglomerate could manufacture the perfect 10-10-10 “organic” fertilizer mixture that ultimately runs off polluting our drinking water.  Back when farmers understood nature and worked with it to be successful.  Perhaps only by coincidence… maybe not… back before widespread outbreaks of salmonella and mad cow disease. When organic truly meant organic.  Not like today where “Organic(TM)” is a government regulated label that is given away to the newest mad scientist finding a loophole in harmful chemical balancing.  When free range meant free range, not stuffing 5,000 “Free Range(TM)” chickens into a massive noxious barn with one 12″ x 6″ door in a corner they’re unable to find since they don’t have enough muscle or bone density to stand up.

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The Husband has been nagging me to hang pictures on our walls for months.  Unfortunately for him I prefer only to hang pictures in finished rooms with freshly painted walls and a plan.  It took me five years to finish the last house so clearly I’m not quite there at this house yet.

If you’re wondering why The Husband doesn’t just hang the pictures himself . . . he’s not allowed.  

I’m a royal pain when it comes to pictures.  They have to be hung just so.  We’re talking perfectly centered and level and hung with the center at exactly 35 inches down from the ceiling.  Unless there is large piece of furniture to consider, like a couch or a bed, this is how it’s done.  I even have a little drawing that illustrates simply how to find the exact place to nail that picture hanger in the wall.

If I’m using Command Adhesive, instead of nails or screws, painters tape is involved to find the perfect spot as well as a little basic math.

So it’s a process.

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The first Friday of the month around these parts is my new favorite blog series . . .

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I can’t thank Supermom enough for playing along with me.  I’ve been loving the challenge and the opportunity to get my hands into some creative DIY.  So here’s the haps.  Supermom and I scour thrift shops and garage sales for a fun or unusual item to gift to the other.  We then DIY the heck out of it and create something grrrrrreat.  Check out my Thrift Gift Facelift page for my other reveals.

Today I’m here to share a Cinderella story.

From Candlesticks to Cupcake Platters.

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Supermom gifted three wooden candlesticks to me.  I pulled off the tags a while ago but I wanna say it cost her around two bucks total.  Not bad.

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