Formal Flip Flops

These do not exist.

Stop wearing flip flops with formal wear because your wimpy baby feet hurt in the heels you're supposed to be wearing. The ones you chose to wear. That's right, you big baby. Woman up and walk in them like you own it, the whole time, or start buying more sensible dress shoes - 'cause flip flops and cocktail numbers do not mix.

I will dance my butt off in bleeding, blistered feet before I take off my chosen heels. With a poker face. With laughing. And cabbage patching. I might cry a little bit in the bathroom, but I'll walk back out in control, with my heels firmly on (possibly stuck due to blood).

Look, wearing heels is a statement about style and fashion, about gender and femininity, about history, about sex, and about how you want to express any or all of this, so make the statement - or don't - but don't make it and then retract it. That's what they call flip-flopping. See what I did there? Ha-ha-ha! Speaking of gender, why don't men regularly slip out of their dress shoes (they can hurt too) and into sandals mid-event? Because it's not manly? Not stylish? Because it's tacky? Yea, all those things. So why are the ladies doing it?

Taking your pretty heels off because you can't take the pain makes any one of the following statements, none of which you'd want to make:

"My feet are actually those of a hobbit and I tried to squeeze them into these wee human shoes! Silly me!"

"I tried to be a big girl. I'm not ready yet."

"But everyone is doing it...look at all these women with their gnarly dogs out - well ME TOO! Let's dance it out with our toes out, girls!"

"I am sixteen, going on seventeen... ♫ "

"At midnight, I turn back into a troll. My feet start earlier, however."

Certainly there are some situations in which exceptions may be made:

1. Beach or country field weddings - I get it. Stupid to navigate these locations in heels (and also curse the people hosting them). I also expect the attire to be casual (sun dresses and such) making sandals a natural part of the whole thing. I have no beef here.

2. You have to suddenly run for your life. In this situation, take those heels off and go - why are you pausing to put on flip flops?

3. A broken heel. First, ask if anyone in the crowd is a cobbler and can repair it on the spot. Cobblers are rare these days, but you should still try. If not, find out if there's an open shoe store nearby (NOT a drug store that stocks flip flops) - dash out quickly and replace your shoes. Failing this, you may remove your shoes for the remainder of the event. You might even be a able to borrow flip flops from one of those women who packs them in her purse like tampons*.  Consider staying put at your table the rest of the event, you nasty ragamuffin.

*Yea, about this. There exist flip flops made specifically to be tucked into your formal clutch, to be whipped out when you are ready to give up as a woman for the night.

4. You have to do it because you're in the bridal party and that's what they're doing. Ugh, I'm really sorry. You can try to approach the bride about it, but this is a sensitive situation. You're probably not getting much of a say in your dress or your hair either, so the whole thing is likely beyond saving anyway. Probably just go with it - at least all of you will look terrible from the knees down. It's just one day, so try to put it behind you.

Now that I've convinced you, decide what statement you want to make. If it's a badass heels statement, like I'm hoping, but you're worried about keeping yourself together for the whole event, I've got few tips that can help. The assumption here is that your shoes fit properly and you can walk well in them (walking well in heels is another show). If those criteria aren't met, then back to the shoe store you go.

These tips are helpful, but they are not magical - there is always the potential for pain, but enduring will make you proud and you'll be so amazingly badass in your heels:

1. Start hydrating well a couple days before. If you're prone to a little bloating, your feet will suffer first. Drink enough water so that you're peeing all the damn time.

2. Pre-emptive ibuprofen. Take a couple before you go. These will take the edge off when the balls of your feet start screaming and your skin starts separating.

3. Your date/spouse/friend is an excellent secret physical support. Use him or her sort of like a human cane - but don't limp or you'll give it away!

4. A couple of drinks will help numb your tootsies.

5. A couple more will help you not care that they're turning purple. Keep dancing!

There's always time for flip flops tomorrow. Heels are special - wear our best ones for special days...so treat them that way and don't give in to the flip flopped foolishness!

The Puffin Identity

Puffins are adorable birds that became endangered because of fierce and cruel hunting by assholes during the 1800s. One of the most endangered groups were the Atlantic Puffins, who nest in the rocks and coastal islands off Maine. This is where my history and ornithological lesson ends, but you can read more here if you're so inclined. Spoiler alert - the puffins are coming back thanks to conservation efforts by Audobon and other wildlife preservation programs.

Ever have Barbara's brand cereal, Puffins? Delicious. I was reading the back of the box this morning and they have a puffin adoption program. I'm not here to promote this - truly - read on.

If you save up and send in 15 upc/box tops, you can adopt and name your very own puffin for a year, and Barbara's makes a donation to the preservation project. You can adopt up to 5 puffins a year this way. That's a lot of pricey cereal if you ask me, but, no one really asks me. I know what you're thinking: well, they should! I know, right?! Thanks!

Not unlike sponsoring a child from a third world country, you get a picture of your puffin along with its history, likes and dislikes, dating rituals (choice of mates, they call it - little black book, I call it), a certificate, and so on. So I'm thinking this is very cute. Then, I re-read it. Name it for a year. A year.

So many questions. Why just a year? What happens to your adopted puffin at the end of the year? Do they take its name tag away? Is that little puffin now an unsponsored, nameless beaky thing once more? Do they get new names from new sponsors? Isn't that confusing for the puffins and everyone involved? Are you notified when your year is up, so you can renew? This is just getting weird and complicated! Do they make actual name tags? Is there a ceremony? I cannot consider adopting a Puffin without knowing the name I give it will stick for good. I had to find out more.

I called the company today and talked with someone from marketing. I'm not kidding. To sound more stable, I told her I was calling for my eight year old son who demanded these answers...I'm just calling on his behalf, of course. He's very curious about the fate of the adopted puffins, you can understand, right? He's eight, I mean, hah hah, yes, oh these kids. The things we do for them, amirite?! 
She totally bought it. While she was very pleasant, she didn't know why there's a year expiration on the name. Maybe, she speculated, there are just not enough Puffins to go around for each to have a one-time name. But then she said that was probably not it. Up the food chain I go.

The next person introduces herself as the Director of Marketing. Wow. I'm impressed with how quickly this has escalated in my favor.  She's lovely and really gets my questions (which are my son's questions, of course but she also isn't sure why there's a year expiration. No one has ever asked, she told me. Really? That's surprising!

Not at all surprising, I often get that response. Then again, how many people are calling cereal headquarters demanding answers about puffin adoption limits?

She took my information and is going to contact the Doctor who runs the preservation program and find out the deal on this year limit thing. Ha! I am very excited to hear back, and I'll report back once I do. In the meantime, I'm thinking I'll have to pony up and donate after hassling them, so long as that Puffin's name goes down in the books, forever. 

It's a Crock

One day I will kill someone with their own crockpot. Mark my words. Or probably don't. I'd hate to be incriminated in some freak Rival incident in the midwest.The heavy insert part could split a skull though. Think about that next time you handle one. Maybe keep it by your bedside at night. Your unassuming ceramic peace maker.

Some days, my Facebook feed is overrun with slow cooker recipe shares, most of which sound terrible. Like stoner with crazy munchies terrible. Yes, even with the pretty picture of the seared and caramelized food - you all know that nothing that ever came out of a crock pot looks like that, right? NOTHING. It's a lie and it makes me crazy. Are you one of the offenders? Are you? You are contributing to my descent into madness.

Sure, crockpots have their place in home cookery, but that's my point - they have their place. That place is pretty specific, with not a lot of room for expansion, and particularly expansion into my social media life. Yeah, I own a crockpot. I use it a few times a year for specific purposes (long, slow, moist heat required stuff - admittedly convenient for that sort of thing). But if you took my crockpot away, I'd be all, "Sweet. More cabinet space." Zero craps given.

If crockpots were the the magical savior of all home cooks, from the stressed stay at homes to the stressed workers, with seemingly endless possibilities, then why do we still use ovens and pans and skillets? To my knowledge, no one has replaced their appliances with one giant slow cooker. Do restaurants offer crockpot meals? I don't know of any...do you? If they do, it's either a moving target hot thing in the city - you'll never get a table and by the time you do it's so over - or, it's on the menu at that diner on True Blood.

Oh, the recipes...precious. There's the usual offenders - easy cheesy this (always cheese), and super easy that. More recent ones include 'paleo' and 'clean' versions for the healthy crockpotter's repertoire.

So check this one: Crockpot Lasagna - I just...well...are you fucking kidding me? No. Just no. And let's all think for a second: the 'labor intensive' part of lasagna, assuming you don't make the noodles and the sauce, is assembly - which you'll need to do in a crockpot too. The difference here is letting it cook-mush to death all day long in a small, steamy vessel, versus baking it for about an hour in the oven. You can even do the assembly ahead of time, just like a crockpot! For real! And the clean up? About the same. There is no need to destroy a simple dish like this, in a crockpot because the work is the same (it usually is for most of the recipes) and the outcome is better when you make it conventionally. Actually, nothing Italian is to be made in a crockpot...at least if you have any dignity. Challenge me on this, I dare you.

Notice also that so many of these recipes contain the word "Easy"...'cause nothing gets people excited like magical, non-engaged cooking. I'm not saying you need to be doing anything complex, ever. Really, you can make stupid-easy and delicious things, quickly - barely paying any attention whatsoever - without a crockpot. You can also make complex all-day stuff that isn't very actively involved at all without a crockpot. We all know this. Right?

I don't understand the Crockpotting of America™ movement. I blame the internets of course. Is it because you can leave the thing on all day and not worry about a fire? Is it the Easy Cheesy Chicken Fiesta? The Beer Chicken Explosion?  Help me not assault anyone with a crockpot, America.