Friday's Feast

Because I'm bored.

Appetizer: Who is your favorite news anchor/reporter and why?
This question is going to bring on a rampage of who-cares kind of arguments. The very VERY best news reporter award always and forever must go to the hurricane-covering idiot telling us it's windy and rainy outside while hanging on to a telephone pole for dear life. Classic.


Soup: Name Three Foods That Are In Your Freezer.

• No, I Don't Have Ice
• Neapolitan (new ice cream)
  Ratio: 5% strawberry, 10% chocolate, 85% vanilla
• Tastes like Box (old ice cream)
  Ratio: 100% yuck

Salad: If you were to have the opportunity to name a new town or city, what would you call it?
JustSendMeMoneyAndStayHomesville


Main Course: What will most likely be the next book you read?
Not counting the 97 that are currently in process? Two top contenders in the on-deck circle include:

Three Cups of Tea
by Greg Mortenson

and

Enslaved by Ducks

by Bob Tarte

Dessert: What's the first thing you generally notice about the opposite gender?
That they're the opposite gender.

Friday's Feast

Because I'm bored.

Appetizer: Who is your favorite news anchor/reporter and why?
This question is going to bring on a rampage of who-cares kind of arguments. The very VERY best news reporter award always and forever must go to the hurricane-covering idiot telling us it's windy and rainy outside while hanging on to a telephone pole for dear life. Classic.


Soup: Name Three Foods That Are In Your Freezer.

• No, I Don't Have Ice
• Neapolitan (new ice cream)
  Ratio: 5% strawberry, 10% chocolate, 85% vanilla
• Tastes like Box (old ice cream)
  Ratio: 100% yuck

Salad: If you were to have the opportunity to name a new town or city, what would you call it?
JustSendMeMoneyAndStayHomesville


Main Course: What will most likely be the next book you read?
Not counting the 97 that are currently in process? Two top contenders in the on-deck circle include:

Three Cups of Tea
by Greg Mortenson

and

Enslaved by Ducks

by Bob Tarte

Dessert: What's the first thing you generally notice about the opposite gender?
That they're the opposite gender.

Stumbling for Dummies

While looking through the local newspaper today at lunch, I read an article detailing the legal wrap-up of a local case in which a not-terribly-bright University student embezzled in excess of $20,000 from a local big box type store. Said student pleaded guilty and was ordered to make full restitution, spend a couple weekends in jail, and serve five years on probation, at which time the charge will be ERASED.

That whole "it never really happened" part aside, what caught my eye in this particular case were several quotes from the not-terribly-bright University student's lawyer.

"All of us have stumbled on the road of life. All of us have our little trips on the road of life. This is just a stumble on the road of life for her."

I was flabbergasted. Here I am, many, MANY years older than this not-terribly-bright University student, and sure, I have stumbled on the road of life. But comparatively speaking, my sins equate to driving on the rumble-strips on the shoulder of the road of life, while she's driving a Hummer in the HOV lane with the cruise control set at 85mph.

How sad is it when you discover that even as a stumbler, you're nothing but a slacker?

Next time I'll know to aim higher.

Stumbling for Dummies

While looking through the local newspaper today at lunch, I read an article detailing the legal wrap-up of a local case in which a not-terribly-bright University student embezzled in excess of $20,000 from a local big box type store. Said student pleaded guilty and was ordered to make full restitution, spend a couple weekends in jail, and serve five years on probation, at which time the charge will be ERASED.

That whole "it never really happened" part aside, what caught my eye in this particular case were several quotes from the not-terribly-bright University student's lawyer.

"All of us have stumbled on the road of life. All of us have our little trips on the road of life. This is just a stumble on the road of life for her."

I was flabbergasted. Here I am, many, MANY years older than this not-terribly-bright University student, and sure, I have stumbled on the road of life. But comparatively speaking, my sins equate to driving on the rumble-strips on the shoulder of the road of life, while she's driving a Hummer in the HOV lane with the cruise control set at 85mph.

How sad is it when you discover that even as a stumbler, you're nothing but a slacker?

Next time I'll know to aim higher.

Search and Rescue

One of my morning rituals is after my shower I am required to "play toys" with Gabby, the cat. I know it's a "play toys" morning when she smashes her way into the closed bathroom door (which is every morning) and starts mrrrrrOWWWWing at me with a great gusto that only means "will you please MOVE IT ALONG SO WE CAN GO PLAY TOYS?"

Playing toys has specific rules. I gather up a few of the more favored toys (that I can find) and stand at one end of the living room. Gabby waits at the other end of the living room right at the opening of the kitchen. I am required to hurl the toys -- one at a time -- into the kitchen and she chases them. When she is done batting it around, she will stare at me, and I will toss another one. This happens until I've exhausted the toys on hand. Then we switch. I walk into the kitchen, and she runs halfway into the living room. I then repeat by throwing toys one at a time into the other end of the living room and she will chase them until she's ready to switch again or she's bored, though frankly, with cats, it's nearly impossible to to tell the difference.

I like playing toys, because I never get tired of watching my cat run 90 mph from the carpeted living room onto the tiled kitchen floor and smash into the counters. You'd think she'd remember by this time that cats got no traction in the kitchen, but after hundreds of sessions of "play toys" there admittedly might be some brain damage going on.

Last Saturday, Gabby decided, somewhat uncharachteristically, that she wanted to play toys at night. So I grabbed a couple of colorful mice and tossed them into the kitchen. After smashing into the cabinets yet again (yay!) she managed to bat the thing under the stove. Feeling somewhat kindly I decided that I would grab a yardstick and fish it out.

Oh. My. God.

Found underneath my stove were seemingly hundreds of cat toys, one (and only one) child's flip flop, way, carbon-dated to circa TinyTuna, 3rd grade, one People Magazine (and I don't even BUY People Magazine) and one thriving colony of Dust Wookies.

Once I finished fishing all that out, I figured I was on a roll and should take a gander at what might be living under the refrigerator. Found were several more cat toys and a smaller, cuter colony of Dust Ewoks.

Only thing missing? Jimmy Hoffa.

Search and Rescue

One of my morning rituals is after my shower I am required to "play toys" with Gabby, the cat. I know it's a "play toys" morning when she smashes her way into the closed bathroom door (which is every morning) and starts mrrrrrOWWWWing at me with a great gusto that only means "will you please MOVE IT ALONG SO WE CAN GO PLAY TOYS?"

Playing toys has specific rules. I gather up a few of the more favored toys (that I can find) and stand at one end of the living room. Gabby waits at the other end of the living room right at the opening of the kitchen. I am required to hurl the toys -- one at a time -- into the kitchen and she chases them. When she is done batting it around, she will stare at me, and I will toss another one. This happens until I've exhausted the toys on hand. Then we switch. I walk into the kitchen, and she runs halfway into the living room. I then repeat by throwing toys one at a time into the other end of the living room and she will chase them until she's ready to switch again or she's bored, though frankly, with cats, it's nearly impossible to to tell the difference.

I like playing toys, because I never get tired of watching my cat run 90 mph from the carpeted living room onto the tiled kitchen floor and smash into the counters. You'd think she'd remember by this time that cats got no traction in the kitchen, but after hundreds of sessions of "play toys" there admittedly might be some brain damage going on.

Last Saturday, Gabby decided, somewhat uncharachteristically, that she wanted to play toys at night. So I grabbed a couple of colorful mice and tossed them into the kitchen. After smashing into the cabinets yet again (yay!) she managed to bat the thing under the stove. Feeling somewhat kindly I decided that I would grab a yardstick and fish it out.

Oh. My. God.

Found underneath my stove were seemingly hundreds of cat toys, one (and only one) child's flip flop, way, carbon-dated to circa TinyTuna, 3rd grade, one People Magazine (and I don't even BUY People Magazine) and one thriving colony of Dust Wookies.

Once I finished fishing all that out, I figured I was on a roll and should take a gander at what might be living under the refrigerator. Found were several more cat toys and a smaller, cuter colony of Dust Ewoks.

Only thing missing? Jimmy Hoffa.

International Hops of Pancakes

I suppose if I were to be honest, I would have to admit that the ratio of posting one picture of a rabbit with a pancake on its head over the course of fourteen days doesn't exactly qualify as regular blogging, even though I really, really like the picture.

It just seems to be that in between time of year. Winter is winding down, except when it's not. Last week we hit mid-60s, the crocus were blooming and other spring nubbins were promising that spring was coming. This morning we got snow.

Two steps forward, one step back.

TinyTuna, thirteen days out from demanding a Blog name change to TeenTuna (sorry kiddo, it's not going to happen) continues to bounce erratically and irrationally from being a funny, thoughtful, polite and intelligent child to being the spawn of Satan.

Two steps forward, one step back.

Teaching is both tedious and inspiring. Students are tired. GreenTuna is tired. The commute is a drag. But inevitably by the end of the day, I'm more heartened than disheartened, I really enjoy I'm doing, and I'm encouraged by the work the kids have done this semester and the music they're making.

Two steps forward, one step back.

I'm forever cleaning my house. The piles are getting smaller, and I'm getting bolder with my tossing abilities. This skill will become critical when I finish the upstairs and must once and for all tackle the basement. I'd like the luxury of selecting what I keep and toss based on need, want and space, without a flood making the moldy, wet, stinky choices for me. Still, I'm surrounded by scraps of junk that must be sorted, filed or tossed. This weekend GramTuna and I blitzed the local Home and Garden Show, getting ideas and grabbing freebies. Later that afternoon I came across a $1 off coupon for the same Home and Garden Show. Sadly it was for the 2003 Home and Garden Show.

Two steps forward, one step back.

Sometimes this constant lack of 100% forward progress is discouraging. My unrealistic Oompah-Loompah tendencies want it done, and want it done NOW. But in my young old-age, I'm becoming a little more philosophical about the whole thing. During this time of not-quite winter, not-quite spring, It seems that two steps forward, one step back isn't necessarily a bad thing. Just ask the maple trees. Without both cold, cold nights and warmer days, the sap-tapping season would be a bust and bunny would have no syrup for his pancake. So I do what I can when I can, and know that warmer, more productive days just around the corner.

Let's hope they don't slip on the ice.

International Hops of Pancakes

I suppose if I were to be honest, I would have to admit that the ratio of posting one picture of a rabbit with a pancake on its head over the course of fourteen days doesn't exactly qualify as regular blogging, even though I really, really like the picture.

It just seems to be that in between time of year. Winter is winding down, except when it's not. Last week we hit mid-60s, the crocus were blooming and other spring nubbins were promising that spring was coming. This morning we got snow.

Two steps forward, one step back.

TinyTuna, thirteen days out from demanding a Blog name change to TeenTuna (sorry kiddo, it's not going to happen) continues to bounce erratically and irrationally from being a funny, thoughtful, polite and intelligent child to being the spawn of Satan.

Two steps forward, one step back.

Teaching is both tedious and inspiring. Students are tired. GreenTuna is tired. The commute is a drag. But inevitably by the end of the day, I'm more heartened than disheartened, I really enjoy I'm doing, and I'm encouraged by the work the kids have done this semester and the music they're making.

Two steps forward, one step back.

I'm forever cleaning my house. The piles are getting smaller, and I'm getting bolder with my tossing abilities. This skill will become critical when I finish the upstairs and must once and for all tackle the basement. I'd like the luxury of selecting what I keep and toss based on need, want and space, without a flood making the moldy, wet, stinky choices for me. Still, I'm surrounded by scraps of junk that must be sorted, filed or tossed. This weekend GramTuna and I blitzed the local Home and Garden Show, getting ideas and grabbing freebies. Later that afternoon I came across a $1 off coupon for the same Home and Garden Show. Sadly it was for the 2003 Home and Garden Show.

Two steps forward, one step back.

Sometimes this constant lack of 100% forward progress is discouraging. My unrealistic Oompah-Loompah tendencies want it done, and want it done NOW. But in my young old-age, I'm becoming a little more philosophical about the whole thing. During this time of not-quite winter, not-quite spring, It seems that two steps forward, one step back isn't necessarily a bad thing. Just ask the maple trees. Without both cold, cold nights and warmer days, the sap-tapping season would be a bust and bunny would have no syrup for his pancake. So I do what I can when I can, and know that warmer, more productive days just around the corner.

Let's hope they don't slip on the ice.

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... And You Think:

1. San Francisco : : Rice-A-Roni

2. Sadness :: Misery

3. Spirits :: Liquor

4. Harriet :: The Spy

5. State :: Of the Union

6. John :: Brown Had a Little Indian

7. Offense :: Sin

8. Timeless :: Eternal

9. Account :: Bank

10. Refuse :: No way, Jose


I believe this week is the insane politically incorrect version of Unconscious Mutterings, but I've decided to let them stand, exactly as my warped brain intended. Between John Brown and his one little, two little, three little Indians (I have no clue as to the origins of that song, and neither do the Internets) and the ever-popular No Way, Jose, I'm sure I've offended people right and left. Kind readers, forgive me my offenses. I promise to behave if you'll allow me to calm my misery with some liquored-up spirits, and permit me to spend eternity in San Francisco, eating boxed rice and reading Harriet, The Spy.

You can take that to the bank.

I bet you can mutter better than I can...HERE.

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... And You Think:

1. San Francisco : : Rice-A-Roni

2. Sadness :: Misery

3. Spirits :: Liquor

4. Harriet :: The Spy

5. State :: Of the Union

6. John :: Brown Had a Little Indian

7. Offense :: Sin

8. Timeless :: Eternal

9. Account :: Bank

10. Refuse :: No way, Jose


I believe this week is the insane politically incorrect version of Unconscious Mutterings, but I've decided to let them stand, exactly as my warped brain intended. Between John Brown and his one little, two little, three little Indians (I have no clue as to the origins of that song, and neither do the Internets) and the ever-popular No Way, Jose, I'm sure I've offended people right and left. Kind readers, forgive me my offenses. I promise to behave if you'll allow me to calm my misery with some liquored-up spirits, and permit me to spend eternity in San Francisco, eating boxed rice and reading Harriet, The Spy.

You can take that to the bank.

I bet you can mutter better than I can...HERE.

Modern Medicine

Last Thursday afternoon, TinyTuna called after school and asked if she could be picked up early because she had a headache. She usually stays after school for an hour to do homework in the library or practice. Most likely what she's doing is giggling with her friends while it looks like she's doing homework or practicing, but that's another story. GramTuna dashed out and got her, and when they got home she gave her some Gram aspirin, because evidently mine had expired oh, 2+ years ago. I guess it pays to have such a calm and cool demeanor that one isn't even able to finish a bottle of aspirin in time. HA!

Yesterday a new bottle of aspirin was purchased, and Gram, TinyTuna and I were discussing school and medicine. I confirmed with TinyTuna that she wasn't allowed to carry aspirin in her backpack or keep it in her locker. She told me no, she would get in HUGE trouble. I shook my head, but wasn't surprised. I asked her if she could ever get an aspirin in the nurse's office. She gave me the oh you sad, silly mother who knows nothing look and said, "If you're sick and need something at school, you only have two choices."

"And those are....?"

"A band-aid or a bucket."

Modern Medicine

Last Thursday afternoon, TinyTuna called after school and asked if she could be picked up early because she had a headache. She usually stays after school for an hour to do homework in the library or practice. Most likely what she's doing is giggling with her friends while it looks like she's doing homework or practicing, but that's another story. GramTuna dashed out and got her, and when they got home she gave her some Gram aspirin, because evidently mine had expired oh, 2+ years ago. I guess it pays to have such a calm and cool demeanor that one isn't even able to finish a bottle of aspirin in time. HA!

Yesterday a new bottle of aspirin was purchased, and Gram, TinyTuna and I were discussing school and medicine. I confirmed with TinyTuna that she wasn't allowed to carry aspirin in her backpack or keep it in her locker. She told me no, she would get in HUGE trouble. I shook my head, but wasn't surprised. I asked her if she could ever get an aspirin in the nurse's office. She gave me the oh you sad, silly mother who knows nothing look and said, "If you're sick and need something at school, you only have two choices."

"And those are....?"

"A band-aid or a bucket."

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... And You Think:

1. Nude :: Naked

2. Support :: Hose

3. Rachel :: Ray

4. Crane :: Bird

5. Candy Bar :: Milky Way

6. Material :: Girl

7. Mind Games :: I have better things to do than play --

8. Eviction :: Get OUT!

9. Produce :: Lettuce (ps. you CAN rip it!)

10. Joke :: I love 'em, just can't tell 'em.


Well, this is obviously the and this is why you shouldn't mutter at 6am version of Unconscious Mutterings. With such stellar combinations of Support Hose, Rachel Ray and Material Girl, I think maybe I should just go back to bed.

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... And You Think:

1. Nude :: Naked

2. Support :: Hose

3. Rachel :: Ray

4. Crane :: Bird

5. Candy Bar :: Milky Way

6. Material :: Girl

7. Mind Games :: I have better things to do than play --

8. Eviction :: Get OUT!

9. Produce :: Lettuce (ps. you CAN rip it!)

10. Joke :: I love 'em, just can't tell 'em.


Well, this is obviously the and this is why you shouldn't mutter at 6am version of Unconscious Mutterings. With such stellar combinations of Support Hose, Rachel Ray and Material Girl, I think maybe I should just go back to bed.

From the Ironic Files

Last week (or maybe just a few days ago) there was an enormous brouhaha in New York City as what seemed to be a large colony of rats had invaded a local Taco Bell. As soon as I had heard about this story I had to stampede over to YouTube to see if I could find a clip.

The Tubes, they will never forsake you.



I was rightly and sufficiently grossed out, because as the song goes, I don't mind spiders and snakes, but Tuna don't do rodents. Never. Ever. Even in a garage (which yes, is outside in their own habitat, but hey, it's not a mouse hotel, it's a storage unit for old furniture and gardening equipment) I don't like them, not one little bit.

Anyway, the best part of the whole story was the shock and dismay expressed by the parent company that represents a trifecta of gastronomical nightmares, namely, KFC, Taco Bell and Pizza Hut. The spokesperson went on and on about the high standards they set and how the rat problem was unacceptable.

But the VERY BEST part of the whole story was the name of the Parent Company:

YUM FOODS.

Guess it was easier to market than

Bleeuuuaughhhh foods

Or

OH CRAP, IT'S RATS!

Or

I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S NOT RODENTS

Or

Vernon's Vermin Vittles

Or

I'd rather have Snakes on a Plane

Or

RUN!

Yum Foods. Hee.

From the Ironic Files

Last week (or maybe just a few days ago) there was an enormous brouhaha in New York City as what seemed to be a large colony of rats had invaded a local Taco Bell. As soon as I had heard about this story I had to stampede over to YouTube to see if I could find a clip.

The Tubes, they will never forsake you.



I was rightly and sufficiently grossed out, because as the song goes, I don't mind spiders and snakes, but Tuna don't do rodents. Never. Ever. Even in a garage (which yes, is outside in their own habitat, but hey, it's not a mouse hotel, it's a storage unit for old furniture and gardening equipment) I don't like them, not one little bit.

Anyway, the best part of the whole story was the shock and dismay expressed by the parent company that represents a trifecta of gastronomical nightmares, namely, KFC, Taco Bell and Pizza Hut. The spokesperson went on and on about the high standards they set and how the rat problem was unacceptable.

But the VERY BEST part of the whole story was the name of the Parent Company:

YUM FOODS.

Guess it was easier to market than

Bleeuuuaughhhh foods

Or

OH CRAP, IT'S RATS!

Or

I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S NOT RODENTS

Or

Vernon's Vermin Vittles

Or

I'd rather have Snakes on a Plane

Or

RUN!

Yum Foods. Hee.

Friday's Feast

Today's Super Special Pictorial Version is a Feast for your Eyes. Anybody hungry?


Appetizer: What does the color pink make you think of?

EASTER PEEPS!!!

Soup: Name something you thought you had lost, but later found.

My other sock.
(Too bad this one isn't mine)

Salad: In Three Words, Describe This Past Week


Needed
More
Cowbell

Main Course: What are you obsesssed with?Dessert: What kind of perfume or cologne do you like to wear?

Not in a bottle
Flowers, Air, Soil and Sunshine
Nothing smells sweeter

Friday's Feast

Today's Super Special Pictorial Version is a Feast for your Eyes. Anybody hungry?


Appetizer: What does the color pink make you think of?

EASTER PEEPS!!!

Soup: Name something you thought you had lost, but later found.

My other sock.
(Too bad this one isn't mine)

Salad: In Three Words, Describe This Past Week


Needed
More
Cowbell

Main Course: What are you obsesssed with?Dessert: What kind of perfume or cologne do you like to wear?

Not in a bottle
Flowers, Air, Soil and Sunshine
Nothing smells sweeter

Failures in Parenting, Chapter 96

TinyTuna: I'm hungry.

GreenTuna: Make a snack.

TinyTuna: (going for the bag of Doritos)

GreenTuna: No junk.

TinyTuna: Popcorn?

GreenTuna: No.

TinyTuna: (here builds the pre-adult angst, complete with heaving sighs, crossed arms and the ever-popular indignant jacking of the hips)
WELL, WHAT ELSE IS THERE???

GreenTuna: Cheese?

TinyTuna: No.

GreenTuna: Half a PB & J sandwich?

TinyTuna: No.

GreenTuna: Make a salad?

TinyTuna: No lettuce.

GreenTuna: Yes there is.

TinyTuna: No there's not.

GreenTuna: Yes THERE IS.

TinyTuna: No THERE'S NOT.

GreenTuna: (Opening the refrigerator and making a grand gesture) BEHOLD! An Entire Head of Lettuce in all of its lettucy glory!

TinyTuna: What am I supposed to do with it?

GreenTuna: What do you mean what are you supposed to do with it?

TinyTuna: I can't use that!

GreenTuna: Why not?

TinyTuna: Like that?

GreenTuna: Like WHAT?

TinyTuna: (flailing at the offending lettuce) THAT!!!

GreenTuna: WHAT??? There's nothing wrong with it!

TinyTuna: It's not cut up.

GreenTuna: It's not WHAT?

TinyTuna: Cut Up.

GreenTuna: So?

TinyTuna: SO WHAT DO I DO WITH IT?

GreenTuna: Rip it up!

TinyTuna: How?

GreenTuna: Are you SERIOUS?

TinyTuna: I've never ripped lettuce before.

GreenTuna: Good grief. Take the lettuce, grab it and pull it apart. It's not hard. It's lettuce, for crying out loud.

TinyTuna: WELL HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?
IT'S ALWAYS CUT UP IN A BAG!!

**crickets**
END SCENE

Note: Having already read "Huckleberry Finn" I knew better than to whitewash fences OR make a pre-adult's salad. So, I gave TinyTuna an emergency lesson in lettuce ripping. Immediately thereafter she made her salad all-by-herself. Crisis averted.

Failures in Parenting, Chapter 96

TinyTuna: I'm hungry.

GreenTuna: Make a snack.

TinyTuna: (going for the bag of Doritos)

GreenTuna: No junk.

TinyTuna: Popcorn?

GreenTuna: No.

TinyTuna: (here builds the pre-adult angst, complete with heaving sighs, crossed arms and the ever-popular indignant jacking of the hips)
WELL, WHAT ELSE IS THERE???

GreenTuna: Cheese?

TinyTuna: No.

GreenTuna: Half a PB & J sandwich?

TinyTuna: No.

GreenTuna: Make a salad?

TinyTuna: No lettuce.

GreenTuna: Yes there is.

TinyTuna: No there's not.

GreenTuna: Yes THERE IS.

TinyTuna: No THERE'S NOT.

GreenTuna: (Opening the refrigerator and making a grand gesture) BEHOLD! An Entire Head of Lettuce in all of its lettucy glory!

TinyTuna: What am I supposed to do with it?

GreenTuna: What do you mean what are you supposed to do with it?

TinyTuna: I can't use that!

GreenTuna: Why not?

TinyTuna: Like that?

GreenTuna: Like WHAT?

TinyTuna: (flailing at the offending lettuce) THAT!!!

GreenTuna: WHAT??? There's nothing wrong with it!

TinyTuna: It's not cut up.

GreenTuna: It's not WHAT?

TinyTuna: Cut Up.

GreenTuna: So?

TinyTuna: SO WHAT DO I DO WITH IT?

GreenTuna: Rip it up!

TinyTuna: How?

GreenTuna: Are you SERIOUS?

TinyTuna: I've never ripped lettuce before.

GreenTuna: Good grief. Take the lettuce, grab it and pull it apart. It's not hard. It's lettuce, for crying out loud.

TinyTuna: WELL HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?
IT'S ALWAYS CUT UP IN A BAG!!

**crickets**
END SCENE

Note: Having already read "Huckleberry Finn" I knew better than to whitewash fences OR make a pre-adult's salad. So, I gave TinyTuna an emergency lesson in lettuce ripping. Immediately thereafter she made her salad all-by-herself. Crisis averted.