What’s the best way to reduce indoor air pollution at home if you have pets?
Ha. Used to be that I worked all over the place when it came to consumer appliances, and one of my product lines were HEPA filter systems. And Lordy(!) they worked!
We had a 2 meter square room that we tested those bugger’s in, and they really worked great. We used a (no kidding) certified lavatory grade cigarette to these them with and watched them remove the particulates from the air. They worked great.
Of course, as they were one of my product lines, I must have had hundreds of those things in my house (well, maybe not hundreds, but I certainly had a lot), and they really kept the air fresh. I went and gave one to my ex-wifes family (who were chain smokers) and the air there in the house was always pristine, but the filter itself was black, black, BLACK!
Here’s some of my old designs. You don’t have to to be too careful on the make or model, just get a room sized one, all HEPA filters must meet the same requirements so brand is really meaningless. It’s a personal preference issue.
REMEMBER; you MUST get a HEPA filter unit. There are other kinds of “air purifiers”, and many are just marketing promotion. To really get the dirt and dust of the air use a HELP filtered unit with a carbon intake screen.
So anyways, hope your loved ones are safe and this helps you all out some.
Israel’s diamond industry is going extinct. That’s a billion-dollar problem for the IDF.
Have you ever written a letter to a major corporation and received a response? 108 more answers
I was in a car accident with a drunk driver in 2007 that totalled my Pontiac Pursuit made by General Motors (GM).
One of the firefighters at the scene commented that if I were in an older car, I likely would not have survived (I T-boned the empty passenger side of a pick-up truck at approximately 100 km/hr when the driver decided to cross the divided highway as I was coming). That car did everything it was supposed to in a high speed collision – the seat belt held me back and prevented me from going through the windshield, the airbags deployed, and the front of the car absorbed the impact with its’ crumple zone technology.
After the accident, I wrote GM a letter to thank them for building the car that saved my life. I didn’t expect to get any response, but a few weeks later, I got a phone call. They thanked me for the letter and said, “I’m sorry you went through that.” They also told me to contact them if I needed anything else from GM that they could help with. I thanked them and hung up, not expecting to ever have anything that I could ask them for help with.
My insurance paid for a rental car until a new car was ready for me (the Pursuit was no longer in production so I received a G5 as the equivalent), which took about a week. During the process of signing out the car from the dealership, I was asked if I wanted to pay the extra 8$ per day for windshield coverage, which was not included in the regular insurance. I decided not to pay this fee for two reasons: 1. I had never had a cracked windshield before in my life, and 2. It was ME who was hit and almost killed by a drunk driver…I didn’t feel like paying out any extra money for something that was completely not my fault.
Well, you can probably guess what happened. To this day, the only time I have ever cracked a windshield was the time I rented a car due to a drunk driver totalling mine. I phoned the insurance company that same day and told them what happened. They said that as unfortunate as it was, I owed 300$ for a new windshield. I was a grad student at the time and didn’t have a lot of extra money, but my bigger issue was that, again, it was ME who was hit and almost killed by a drunk driver – I had already paid enough in terms of physical and psychological trauma, and didn’t think it was fair that I now had to pay for this windshield. I cried and plead on the phone but was told that there was nothing they could do.
Eventually I just accepted this ‘unfairness’ and went about my day. The next morning, I had a thought during my shower and remembered the phone call and offer of help from GM. I contacted the woman who said she received my letter and explained the windshield situation with the rental car. Even before I could ask, she offered to take this back to her supervisor to see if they could pay for the windshield. I thanked her and said that even if they could not, I was so grateful to them for considering it.
The next day, the woman from GM called to let me know that they would happily pay for the windshield and to send them the invoice.
I’ve driven a GM vehicle ever since then.
Self-Proclaimed F**inist Tells Women To DEMAND That Men Pay For Dates…Good Luck With That One!
Did the wearing of the Roman toga spread to the upper classes of the empire’s provincial cities? 5 more answers
The toga was never a comfortable garment. That’s the first myth to kill.
You did not wear a toga, you endured it, provided that you were rich and powerful in some provincial city. Whenever the state was watching, you just put it on. Imagine it is a stiff tuxedo, which you did not like, yet could not say no to.
One complete toga consumed almost 20 feet of heavy wool. It was sweaty, cumbersome and nearly uncleanable. Worse still, it lacked pin or buttons. You were required to use your left arm to hold it the whole time. This was to have made you practically one-handed. Strolling, waving, is there anything useful to do? Forget it.
Anywhere beyond Rome, the toga was even more ludicrous. Provences were grimy, chilly, and hustling. To be walking into a market in Britain or North Africa and wear white wool was to invite disaster. A slip and your status-symbol was spoilt.
Such provincial elites preferred comfort. High quality tunics that they could move around in. Tinted synthesis clothes to dinner. Lacerna are robes that they could toss on. They went even to the extent of wearing pants in cold areas; tradition was lost to life.
The toga was only used in courts, temples and open ceremonies. It wasn’t fashion. It was a uniform. A message: “I am Roman.”
And as soon as the ceremony was over they went home to remove it. The toga was strength–but nearly all who put it on detested it to the last moment.
Pictures
Col 27-Book 488 Martha and the Broken Vase (A Tale of Shards, Shame, and the Gift of a Second Chance)
Ah, dear reader—prepare your heart. Today’s story does not begin with a quack, a snort, or even a kazoo blast.
It begins with a crash.
A sharp, heartbreaking shatter—like a held breath finally breaking.
So settle in. Breathe deep. And step gently into Martha and the Broken Vase.
The Shattering
It happened on a Wednesday—golden, still, humming with the lazy buzz of bees and the distant snore-squeak of Porkchop mid-nap.
Catnip stood in the farmhouse kitchen—tail high, chin lifted, fur smoothed with unusual care—presenting Martha with a bouquet of wildflowers he’d gathered at dawn.
“For you. Because… you’re nice.”
“Nice! Nice!” echoed Ditto, peeking through the window.
Martha smiled—that warm, soft smile that always made Catnip’s ears twitch.
She reached for the flowers.
Her elbow brushed the shelf.
The vase—porcelain, delicate, painted with tiny blue birds in flight—tipped.
Hung in the air—elegant, tragic, inevitable—
Then—
CRASH!
Shards skittered across the floor like startled starlings.
One piece—a bird in mid-soar—landed at Catnip’s paws.
He froze.
His breath caught.
His tail dropped.
This is it, he thought. The moment she sees me for what I am: careless. Broken. Unworthy.
He braced for anger. For banishment. For the quiet disappointment that always followed his best intentions.
But Martha didn’t sigh.
Didn’t scold.
She knelt in the shards—not above, but beside them—and picked up the blue bird.
“This piece flew the farthest,” she murmured, fingers tracing its wing. “Maybe it wanted to be free.”
Catnip blinked.
“You’re… not mad?”
“Mad! Mad!” echoed Ditto—now inside, holding glue and a hopeful look.
Martha smiled—not a grin, but a release.
“Mad? No. Sad? A little. But mostly… grateful.”
“Grateful?”
“Mmm. It’s been sitting on that shelf for twenty years. I think it was ready to fly.”
The Mending
The next morning, Martha returned with a small wooden box—soft felt lining, gold lacquer, a fine brush.
Catnip watched from the doorway—not entering, not leaving.
Martha patted the floor beside her.
“Come. I could use a second pair of paws.”
He sat—just at the edge, tail curled tight.
She handed him a shard.
“Gold fills the cracks. Not to hide them… but to honor them.”
At first, his paws trembled.
His glue lines wobbled.
He dropped a shard—clink!—and flinched.
Martha didn’t correct him.
She just handed him another.
“Hold it just so. It’ll hold.”
Ditto helped—pressing pieces together, fetching more lacquer, humming a soft, off-key tune.
Even the Divine Llama appeared in the doorway, chewing clover, watching—one slow blink of approval.
By the fifth day, Catnip no longer flinched at the sound of breaking.
He leaned in.
Focused.
His movements grew steady—sure, deliberate, full of care.
And on the seventh day—
The vase stood whole again.
Not perfect.
But true: golden rivers tracing every fracture, the blue birds now flying through light, not just beside it.
Martha placed a single sprig of lavender inside—fresh, fragrant, resilient.
“To hold what’s beautiful… not what’s perfect.”
“Perfect! Perfect!” echoed Ditto—softly, like a blessing.
Catnip reached out—not to take, not to fix—just to touch.
His paw rested on the gold seam.
Warm. Solid.
Enough.
The Moral of the Story
That evening, as the stars began to prick the violet sky, Sir Whiskerton sat on the roof—not napping, but witnessing.
He saw Catnip, curled in the sun-dappled hay, one paw resting on the mended vase.
He saw Martha, humming at the stove, glancing out the window—not with worry, but with peace.
In his journal, Whiskerton wrote one line—ink slightly smudged, as if paused mid-thought:
“True compassion doesn’t ignore brokenness—it illuminates it with gold. And sometimes, the most healing words are: ‘Let’s fix it together.’”
And in the vase—now on the windowsill, catching the last light—
the lavender swayed.
The gold gleamed.
The blue birds flew.
Post-Credit Scene
Later, Ditto found Catnip on the porch, watching the sunset.
He sat beside him—no echo, just presence.
After a long silence, Catnip spoke:
“It doesn’t chafe.”
“Chafe! Chafe!”
“…No,” Catnip corrected, gently. “It fits.”
“Fits.” echoed Ditto—softly, like a promise.
And from the roof, Sir Whiskerton’s tail-tip flicked—once.
Approval.
Jingle on. 🐾💛✨
(Or, in the language of mended things: Crack… gold… hold … home.)
The End.
The Final Countdown (1980). First Time Watching reaction
Quick & Easy Gingerbread Cake
Gingerbread Cake with its soft, moist texture and a rich taste, is our family’s favorite holiday treat. It’s made with molasses, light brown sugar, ginger, cinnamon, and other warm spices. Perfect for the festive season.
How do I know when the cake is baking?
You can check by inserting a toothpick into the center, if it comes out clean – the gingerbread is ready. Also, the cake is done baking when the edges slightly pull away from the sides of the baking pan.
Can I make this cake ahead of time?
Yes, you can make this cake a day before serving. Let the gingerbread cool completely, then cover with plastic wrap.
If you want to serve the cake with whipped cream and fresh banana slices, I recommend doing it right before serving, not a day ahead.
Can I freeze this cake?
Yes, you can freeze this gingerbread cake without whipped cream and banana topping. Let the cake cool completely after baking. Then, wrap it tightly with plastic wrap or aluminum foil. Store in a freezer for up to 2 months.
What’s the easiest way to slice bananas for topping?
Remove the peel from the banana. Then, place on a cutting board and slice using a sharp knife.
How do I store leftovers?
Store leftover gingerbread cake without whipped cream and bananas in an airtight container or covered with plastic wrap for up to 2 days at room temperature, or in the refrigerator for up to a week.
Quick & Easy Gingerbread Cake
Ingredients
For the gingerbread cake:
- 2 ½ cup all-purpose flour
- 1 tsp baking sod
- ½ tsp baking powder
- 1 ½ tsp ground ginger
- 1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
- 1/4 tsp ground allspice
- 1/4 tsp ground cloves
- 1/2 tsp salt
- 1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
- 3/4 cup light brown sugar
- 1 large egg, room temperature
- 1 cup molasses, unsulphured
- 1 tsp vanilla extract
- 1 cup hot water
Instructions
-
Preheat the oven to 350ºF. Spray the bottom and the sides of a 9×13 inch baking pan with non-stick cooking spray.
-
In a bowl, stir together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, ginger, cinnamon, allspice, cloves, and salt. Set aside.
-
In a large mixing bowl, beat butter and brown sugar until light and creamy. Add egg, molasses and vanilla extract. Beat until smooth.
-
Add the dry ingredients into the wet. Beat on low speed until just combined. Finally, pour in the hot water. Whisk together using a hand whisk until smooth. Pour into the prepared pan.
-
Bake for 25-30 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
-
Remove the cake from the oven and let cool.
-
While the cake is cooling, prepare the topping. In a mixing bowl, add heavy cream, powdered sugar, and vanilla extract. Beat using an electric mixer on medium-high speed or until firm peaks form.
-
Slice the gingerbread cake and serve with freshly whipped cream and banana slices. Enjoy!
Nutrition
Frequently Asked Questions
What if I don’t have a 9×13 pan?
If you don’t have a 9×13-inch pan, you can use two 9-inch or 8-inch round pans. Just remember that the baking time may change.
How can I make the whipped cream if I don’t have a mixer?
Whip the heavy cream with powdered sugar and vanilla extract using a whisk, until soft peaks form. It will take more time than if using an electric or a stand mixer. You can also use a store-bought Cool Whip.
What if I don’t have all the spices listed?
If you don’t have all of the spices listed in the recipe, you can skip adding one or two spices. Also, you can use store-bought pumpkin pie spice instead of ginger, cinnamon, allspice, or cloves.
What can I use if I don’t have molasses?
Unfortunately, I can’t recommend any molasses substitution for this recipe, because it is one of the crucial ingredients that give this cake a unique, rich, traditional taste.
Can I make this cake without an electric mixer?
Yes, you can use a hand whisk or a wooden spoon instead of an electric mixer to combine the ingredients, but it will take more time and effort.
Star Trek TNG – Captain’s Job
The Mismatch
Written in response to: “Set your story in a world where astrology and the movements of celestial bodies deeply impact the lives of inhabitants.“
K.A. Murray
Fantasy Teens & Young Adult Mystery
Alice was running away before I could say another word. Everything clearly was not all right.
2-Virgo
Today I was out on Main Street, assigned to grocery delivery, so I saw Alice run by. I didn’t think much about it; Artists were a little nutty, and me and Alice weren’t that close. The nearer we all got to A&S, the more entrenched we became in our future lives, in the ways we’d serve our community for the rest of our days.
I liked to serve others. I was a Helper, so that went along with my identity. It matched well. My dad was a Helper, too.
“Vaughn, it’s the best life,” he said. “We get to help keep our community strong.”
It was nice, having a parent with the same identity, which didn’t happen for everyone. Everything about your life – your job, where you lived, who you were matched with for marriage – depended on the day you were born. Dad and I both had early September birthdays, which meant he’d had my whole life to tell me everything about being a Helper.
“It’s an identity that lets you mix it up a little, too,” he said. “Mom can’t do that.”
He was right. Mom was a Healer, and their jobs were pretty straightforward. Being a Helper, you could wash windows one day, deliver food the next, and work in the community garden the day after that.
I liked delivery days. It was nice, especially on a sunny day like today, to be out walking. I had to rush a little that morning – there’d been a delay at the Hive, people scurrying around to find some missing supplies. When I got to the next family unit – all the buildings for families with children in a cohort were on Main Street – I began to stack the crates of food, all neatly labelled by other Helpers, inside the front lobby.
“Vaughn?”
I turned. It was my older brother Alec, jogging over, grinning.
“Alec!” I put out my hand, but he pushed it away and pulled me into a headlock, laughing. It was great to see him. He was a Leader, one of the busiest identities, and once people were ensconced in their roles, it was impossible to maintain ties with your original family unit. My buddy Abe from my cohort is a Leader, too, and he tells me he hasn’t seen his older brother at all since he became a Trader.
“How’ve you been?” Alec asked after he released me.
We’d been chatting for a few minutes when I noticed Alec’s eyes narrow. I followed his gaze.
The last crate I’d stacked had something sticking out of the top – the corner of a light pink envelope. If messages needed to be communicated from the Leaders, an envelope might be included in the person’s family delivery.
“That’s for my buddy Christopher’s unit,” I said. I knew it was, because the crate was larger than the others. When Christopher was a kid, he was diagnosed with diabetes, and his medication was delivered weekly along with his family’s food supply – that’s why their crate was bigger.
I pressed gently on the pink envelope so that it was concealed inside the crate, as it should have been all along.
Alec nodded. He looked uneasy.
“You okay?”
“Yeah – great seeing you, Vaughn, I gotta run.” He started to walk away, but turned back. “Vaughn?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
Alec was gone before I could ask him anything. He was disturbed by the envelope, clearly, but I saw them often when I was packing crates.
Though, when I paused to consider, I realized I’d never seen a pink one before.
I continued my delivery route and tried not to worry about Chris.
3-Sagitarrius
As a Historian, I was the person in our cohort with the best understanding of our community’s history, but we all knew the story.
“Once upon a time, all the people in our little mountain town gathered to view a total solar eclipse – a moment when the moon fully obscures the sun,” my mother told me. “Few of us had ever seen one before.”
The moment of totality was supposed to last three minutes, but our community watched and waited while the sun remained obscured for ten minutes, then twenty – then thirty-six minutes exactly.
“They knew it was a miracle,” my mother said. “When it was over, they reached out to other communities – and it was our town, only, that had the thirty-six minute totality, so they knew it had to mean something.”
Our community’s leaders decided it meant that we were special – that we needed to radically change the way we were living our lives, to align with the cosmos.
“That’s when it all happened, Sarah,” my mother said. “When we started to live the way we live.”
4-Scorpio
My birthday is November 7, meaning after A&S, I’ll be an Engineer. I’m pumped. When I was a kid, I was super into blocks, then Legos, forts, model rockets. I’m sure my folks encouraged it, knowing when my birthday was, but it always felt like a natural thing for me – like everything was exactly as it should be.
The funny thing was, once I started hanging with the Engineer crew – they live in the Empire, the tallest building in our town – I saw that it wasn’t such a clear-cut thing for everyone.
Like this one guy, he’s an okay engineer, but it doesn’t come as naturally to him. He likes the design part, but sometimes I catch him writing in his journal instead of working on blueprints. His birthday is November 21, so if he’d been born a day later, he’d be a Historian like my friend Sarah from my cohort. It makes me wonder why we don’t have exceptions for guys like him, so they could feel as good about what they do as I do. I said something to Sarah about it once.
Her voice was quiet when she answered. “It’s been this way for a hundred years, Spencer. It’s not going to change.”
5-Pisces
Even before the Great Totality, our community was deeply connected with the motion of celestial bodies.
We’re nestled away in the mountains of North Carolina, in a spot where on a clear night you can see thousands of stars. Of course, our ancestors were always looking up to the sky for signs and guidance. But back then, people like me and my fellow Pisces were outliers. There would be a Mystic who lived alone, with visitors coming to them for advice, but many people were skeptical about their actual abilities.
That’s not so now. We Mystics are revered. Lots of young people wish to live the life of a Taurus – their living space is certainly enviable – but ours is lovely as well. A huge round building with an enormous central courtyard and rooftop deck, both of which are perfect for reading the stars.
Our final year before A&S is spent mostly in training, preparing to live and work within our identity. I’ve loved having the chance to actually read the stars myself.
However, recently, I’ve observed strangeness in the sky. The positioning of Saturn and the brightness of Jupiter have caused me concern for the Capricorn I know best: Christopher from my cohort. I asked my Mystic mentor if I should warn him.
She looked through my telescope and frowned. “Who is the boy, Phoebe?”
I explained.
“You cannot warn him,” she said. “It is already written in the stars what comes next. But -”
I waited.
“Be a friend. He’ll need it.”
6-Leo
There’s a gazebo in our town square, and that’s where we Performers put on our shows. When we’re rehearsing like we are today, the vibe is casual. Sometimes people stop and watch, but sometimes they ignore us so they can enjoy the show on the official performance night.
My identity matched me perfectly; I’ve always been the class clown of our cohort. After A&S tomorrow, I’d do a performance as the lead actor for the first time ever, but right now, I was waiting outside the gazebo for my cue.
That’s why I was in the perfect position to see two things.
First Alice, catching her breath – had she been running? – and gazing around at the faces in the crowd, looking helpless.
Then, down the alley between the Clinic and the Archery, my buddy Christopher. He was slipping into a side door of the Clinic, rather than the main doors out front.
Why?
I heard my cue, walked on stage, and set the question aside for later.
7-Cancer
If you’re a Healer, you live and work in a place known as the Clinic. We bunk in cots, and our living spaces are tiny. It doesn’t matter to any of us – we’re constantly working, and we all love that. Being a Healer is the most rewarding and important identity in our community. No one but us has access to the medicines that keep our citizens well.
I was in a storage room organizing when I heard my name.
I turned around. Christopher looked terrible – circles under his eyes and cuts along his cheeks.
“Coraline,” he said. “I need help.”
I was surprised. “Of course, Chris. What can I do?”
He explained.
8-Gemini
Our cohort’s had its share of conflict, especially as we’ve all gotten older, but that’s to be expected. Every cohort consists of twelve kids who are grouped together when they’re toddlers. It’s nice because you get to grow up with one person from each identity. Then, when the entire cohort reaches the age of seventeen, we have A&S, when we advance and separate according to our astrological sign. The conflicts are natural in a group with all the identities mixed together.
It’s been the worst between Christopher and Abe. They leave the rest of us out of it, but they get heated sometimes. Since I’m good at seeing both sides of an argument, sometimes I’d mediate. “Back off, Gilbert,” someone would say, and I’d stop. There was no point, anyway; they’d never be good friends.
I’ve always felt bad for Christopher. The diabetes thing sucks – if he exerts himself, his blood sugar can get out of whack, so he’s had some scary moments when we’ve been out hiking. He can’t carry extra food or medicine, because everything’s distributed by the Leaders, and I know that drives him nuts.
Plus, there’s the whole Mismatch thing.
Being a Gemini means I’m a Variant – I can move between identities, spend years as an Artist and then switch and work as an Engineer. Many of us don’t do that – we find our niche and stay there – but we have the option, and it would help if Christopher had options. He’s a Mismatch, and we all know it – a Trader, like all Capricorns are, who should have been born Pisces or Aquarius. He’s a spiritual, artistic guy who’s going to spend his life dealing with money and making purchases for the community.
There’s no other option.
9-Taurus
Everyone in my cohort experienced Taurus envy at some point. We’re Entrepreneurs, so we’ve got a living/working space set up to inspire – espresso machines, skateboard ramps, white walls to sketch out ideas on. It’s awesome.
I’m considered a prodigy because of the invention I came up with during my training year. Our Capricorn, Christopher, was especially impressed.
“It’s a navigation system that guides you through our mountains – like, if we ever ran out and needed to send a group for supplies, all they’d need was this.” I showed him the prototype. The device was tiny – the size of a matchbox – which was the coolest thing about it.
It would be mass produced eventually by a team of Helpers, but the Leaders let me keep the prototype. Abe – my best friend in the cohort – advised me to keep it locked away.
“Someone might steal it,” he said one day last week.
That’s why I thought of Abe right away this morning, when I found the locked drawer of my bedside table busted open. The device was gone.
10-Aries
No one was more excited for Advancement & Separation than me. I’m done with this cohort. Especially Christopher.
I do feel bad for him, and I understand how hard things are for him, because my older brother Cam was a Mismatch too. He was definitely never meant to be a Trader. Maybe a Planner or a Helper. Being a Trader was for people who were serious, who preferred numbers to conversations, and that wasn’t Cam.
It was actually stuff about Cam that really ruined things for me with Christopher. For the past year, he’s been asking questions – about Cam’s childhood, asking if I’ve seen him, acting like it’s weird that he’s never met him.
“I’m with the Traders every day, Abe,” he said on a cohort hike last week. “Don’t you think I should’ve met him by now?”
It meant nothing. “He’s probably got a special assignment,” I told Christopher. “Cam’s awesome.”
“Of course he is,” he replied. “But don’t you think -”
“I think you better watch your mouth before you make any more comments about my brother,” I said.
He went silent.
Now it’s the day before A&S. I haven’t seen him all day today. After the ceremony and party tomorrow, I might never see him again like Cam. But while I miss my brother so much it hurts, I’ll be glad not to see Christopher again.
11-Aquarius
I couldn’t find Christopher anywhere, and so I stopped in the town square and sat on a bench near the gazebo. Before long, Coraline came, and we watched Lester take a bow and then hop off stage to join us. I heard enthusiastic applause and noticed that the entire cohort – everyone but Abe, who was chatting with some other Leaders by the Clinic – had gathered to cheer for Les.
We’ve been together for fifteen years. We squabble and we make up, and we care about each other.
“Saw you running, Alice,” Vaughn said. Lester nodded; maybe he’d seen me from the stage. “What’s up?”
I shrugged, trying to not look frantic. “I can’t find Christopher,” I said. “He was supposed to meet me this morning and he didn’t show.”
There was a slight shift in Coraline’s face – imperceptible to someone who didn’t know her like I did.
“Well, I’m pretty sure he broke into my things this morning,” Travers said, “so he’s probably out on a hike. Getting some fresh air before he gets locked away with the Traders grinding numbers.”
My eyes went to Phoebe. I’m not a Pisces, but Artists can be as perceptive as Mystics, and I saw her face darken with worry.
“What’s the problem?” Gilbert asked. “So he went for a hike and did some petty crime. He’ll give it back, Trav.”
Abe had spotted us and was walking our way. I tried to keep my voice calm. “Don’t say anything you just said to Abe,” I whispered. When Travers began to protest, I cut him off. “Trav, have you ever met or heard of an adult Mismatch?”
He wasn’t expecting the question. None of them were. Christopher had only shared his fears and discoveries with me.
“They don’t exist,” I whispered. “We don’t know what happens to them. But I think -” I looked at Coraline. “He came to you, didn’t he? You gave him – what he needed?”
She nodded.
“What did he need?” Sarah asked.
I shushed them. We all smiled pleasantly at Abe as he approached.
12-Capricorn
It wasn’t just the prototype of Travers’ navigation system that I’d stolen. I’d also snagged his binoculars.
I watched them all – Travers, Gilbert. Coraline, who’d risked everything to smuggle me insulin and glucose tablets. Lester, Vaughn, Lynette, Spencer, Sarah, Alice, Phoebe.
Abe.
There was no doubt in my mind that his brother Cam was dead. How and why, I didn’t understand, but I had no intention of waiting to solve the mystery of what happened to Mismatches.
Thanks to the cohort, I was prepared for this endeavor. I had Travers’ device, Lynette’s planning skills, and I knew how Phoebe read the stars. That’s what was beautiful about our community – the cohorts, and the people. What was terrifying was everything else.
I watched them for one more moment. Then I hopped down from the tree, and ran as fast as I could away from everything I’d ever known.
Banana Republic
In earlier times, people lived and ate well even without money. Why did money become necessary? 9 more answers
Tadan.. Manufactured Needs.
There is a fantastic scene in the 1923 series that relates to this [1]
.
The Dutton family spots a salesman selling a washing machine and strike up a conversation with him.
‘What is that?’
‘That’s a washing machine, ma’am.’
‘What does it wash?’
‘Clothes. Can you imagine? An electric motor spins the cylinder as water is pumped through the machine. Soap is added here, and the agitation removes any soiling.’
‘We don’t need any of these things.’
‘Well, the conveniences their use gives you time to do other things. You can enjoy a more leisurely life—go on a picnic, go for a swim, and go to the cinema.’
‘It ain’t more leisurely, ’cause we’ve got to work more to pay for all this stuff. We’re not working for ourselves anymore—we’re working for you.’
The older generations just had basic needs—shelter, food, clothing, and a hygiene routine.
They had to use all the time in the day to work to fulfill these needs.
Over time, with machines and privellege, the basic needs were taken care of. Cooking, cleaning, construction and maintenance became easier.
So the person had lot of free time left. This gave way to wants and desires. And accordingly, more work and more money to fulfill them.
Just three decades ago, one TV, phone and refrigerator lasted for more than a decade. Now, there is growing pressure to change to advanced TV every few years, replace smartphone every three years, upgrade lifestyles as you and more travel destinations with every alternate reel one sees.
All this adds to more EMIs and more hustle to clear them.
Stuffed Pepper Casserole
Some nights I have my act together. Most nights I make this Stuffed Pepper Casserole. Free-form and easy-going, this recipe takes the classic flavors and ingredients of stuffed peppers, then turns them into cheesy, healthy comfort food that cooks in one pot. “Unstuffed pepper casserole” would be a fitting name for it too.
A forever fan of all-in-one meals—meaning single recipes that provide servings of lean protein, whole grains, AND vegetables alike, so you don’t have to fuss with a side if you aren’t in the mood—my love of stuffed vegetable recipes is well-documented here.
Let’s take stuffed peppers. I have a version for every mood!
Stuffed Peppers For When You’re Feeling Polished: Mexican Stuffed Peppers; Italian Stuffed Peppers; Quinoa Stuffed Peppers. These recipes are easy, healthy, and tie the total dinner package with a tidy, knife-and-fork, bell pepper bow.
Stuffed Peppers For When You’ve Planned Ahead. Crockpot Stuffed Peppers. Prep them a few hours in advance, and dinner is ready to go when you are.
Stuffed Peppers For When You Want Soup. Stuffed Pepper Soup is easy and exactly what you need when you need a bowl of easy soup.
Stuffed Peppers For When You’re Barely Holding It Together. THIS IS THAT RECIPE.
Stuffed Peppers in Their Easiest Form
Think of this casserole as stuffed peppers, deconstructed—a very fancy way of saying, these are stuffed peppers for last-minute people who are in need of easy recipes.
A mix of ground turkey (or ground beef), red and green bell peppers, brown rice, cheese, and a few sneaky extra vegetables that no one will complain about and you’ll feel happy you included, this recipe tastes like a stuffed pepper, no actual stuffing required.
Instead of stuffing the filling into the peppers, the bell peppers here are sliced, sautéed, then mixed with the other ingredients.
The rice cooks in the same skillet too. You don’t need to make it in advance, and it will be perfectly tender when the casserole is complete.
This recipe is a cross between the assorted classic stuffed pepper recipes on my site (see above) and this reader favorite Sausage and Rice Casserole, with an extra ooey-gooey, casserole comfort factor added for good measure/general happiness.
The cheesy stuffed pepper casserole yields a generous amount, and the leftovers are easy to pack for lunch and reheat for fast dinners. I have storage tips for you below. Make it once, and your future self will thank you for the rest of the week!
How to Make the Best Stuffed Pepper Casserole
Fresh ingredients and pantry staples combine to create one serious skillet.
The Ingredients
- Ground Turkey. To make this a lean and healthy stuffed pepper casserole, I used ground turkey. You could also use ground chicken or lean ground beef.
- Vegetables. The more the merrier for this nutrient-packed dish! I used a combination of onion, green and red bell peppers, and frozen spinach. The frozen spinach is especially sneaky. It’s so mild, you can barely taste it.
- Spices. As with all my stuffed pepper recipes, there’s oodles of flavor to be found. I used Italian seasoning for zest and cumin for warmth. The combination might sound a bit odd at first, but here it works magnificently.
- Diced Tomatoes + Tomato Sauce. Fire roasted diced tomatoes and tomato sauce do double duty give the casserole excellent flavor and provide cooking liquid for the rice.
- Worcestershire Sauce. The savory, umami factor.
- Brown Rice. Brown rice is a staple in my house, and it’s good for you too! Because brown rice is a whole grain, it’s higher in fiber, protein, and nutrients than regular white rice. (See below for tips on how to make this a low carb casserole using cauliflower rice instead).
- Cheese. I love the blend of cheddar and pepper jack cheese here. They’re bold and pair perfectly with the other flavors. If you prefer a more mild flavor, use Monterey jack, mozzarella, or cheddar only.
- Toppings. I like to top my casserole with chopped fresh cilantro or parsley for freshness and Greek yogurt for creaminess. In a hurry? You can skip the toppings. The casserole will still be delish.
The Directions
- Heat oil in a Dutch oven or great big skillet, then add the turkey and onion. Cook until browned, breaking the meat apart.
- Add the spices and garlic, cooking until fragrant. Then, add the spinach. Add the peppers, water, tomatoes and tomato sauce, Worcestershire, and rice. Stir to combine.
- Bring everything to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cover and cook for 30 minutes. Then, uncover, stir, and recover. Let simmer until the rice is tender. Sprinkle cheese on top.
- Let the casserole sit a few minutes, until the cheese is melted. Add fresh cilantro or parsley, and serve warm. ENJOY!
Recipe Variations
- To Make Vegetarian. Swap the ground turkey for 2 (15-ounce) cans of reduced sodium white beans. Stir in the beans after the spinach in Step 3. (Or try these Vegan Stuffed Peppers.)
- To Make Gluten Free. No changes needed! This recipe is naturally gluten free as written.
- To Make Low Carb – Use Cauliflower Rice. You can experiment with making this stuffed pepper casserole with cauliflower rice. I would suggest omitting the tomato sauce and water, as they won’t be needed. Drain the diced tomatoes and add them with the spices and bell peppers in Step 2 (wait to add the spinach). Sauté the vegetables until the peppers are tender and the tomato liquid has cooked off. Add the spinach, then cauliflower rice and stir to warm through. Add the cheese and dig in!
What to Serve with Stuffed Pepper Casserole
While this is a wonderful all-in-one meal, here are a few ideas of what else you could serve with it:
- Vegetables. Sautéed Brussels Sprouts, Sautéed Cabbage, Roasted Butternut Squash, or Crock Pot Honey Carrots would all be excellent options to serve with this casserole.
- Cornbread. Serve Mexican Cornbread or Cheesy Jalapeno Cornbread as a filling, crowd-pleasing side dish.
- Salad. For a fresh and light side, try either this Cucumber Tomato Avocado Salad or Caesar Shaved Brussels Sprouts Salad with Crispy Chickpea Croutons.
So, are you waiting for me to confess which stuffed pepper recipe iteration is my favorite? It truly does depend on my mood (and let’s be honest—my level of dinner preparation that day!). Although, these Stuffed Peppers always sound tasty.
I can say that on any day when you’re in the marketing for a healthy dinner that comforts and mostly takes care of itself on the stove, this stuffed pepper recipe is hard to beat.
Stuffed Pepper Casserole
Ingredients
- 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
- 1 pound ground turkey or ground chicken or lean ground beef
- 1 medium yellow onion
- 1 tablespoon Italian seasoning
- 2 teaspoons ground cumin
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt
- ½ teaspoon ground pepper
- 3 cloves garlic minced (about 1 tablespoon)
- 12 ounces frozen chopped spinach thawed with as much water squeezed out as possible
- 1 red bell pepper cored and diced
- 1 green bell peppers cored and diced
- 2 cups water
- 1 can 15-ounces fire roasted diced tomatoes in their juices
- 1 8-ounce can no salt added tomato sauce
- 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
- 1 cup uncooked brown rice rinsed and drained
- ½ cup shredded cheddar cheese
- ½ cup shredded pepper jack cheese use Monterey jack or mozzarella for a more mild flavor; or swap in additional cheddar
- For serving: chopped fresh cilantro or parsley; Greek yogurt
Instructions
-
In a Dutch oven or similar deep, sturdy pot, heat the oil over medium high. Add the turkey and onion. With a wooden spoon or spatula, break the meat into small pieces. Cook and stir until it is browned and fully cooked through and the onion is tender, about 7 minutes.
-
Add the Italian seasoning, cumin, salt, pepper, and garlic. Stir and cook until the garlic is fragrant, about 1 minute. Add the spinach. With a fork (or very carefully with your fingers) break apart the clumps so it’s fairly evenly distributed with the meat. Add red and green bell peppers, water, tomatoes, tomato sauce, Worcestershire, and rice. Stir to evenly combine.
-
Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer. Cover the pot and let cook 30 minutes. Uncover and stir, scraping up any rice that is beginning to stick. Recover and continue to simmer until the rice is tender, about 10 to 15 additional minutes.
-
Remove the pot from the heat. Uncover and stir. Taste and adjust the seasoning as desired. Don’t worry if it’s still a little liquidy. It will continue to thicken and the liquid will further absorb as it sits. Sprinkle the cheese over the top, then recover.
-
Let sit off the heat 10 minutes, until the cheese is melted, the rice is tender (it will still have a little bit of chew, which is normal for brown rice, but it should not be crunchy). If you’d like the top golden, place the dish, uncovered, under the broiler for a minute or two (watch carefully to ensure the top does not burn). Serve warm, sprinkled with fresh cilantro or parsley.
Notes
- TO STORE: Place leftover casserole in an airtight storage container in the refrigerator for up to 4 days.
- TO REHEAT: Reheat the casserole in a Dutch oven over medium-low heat until hot. You can also rewarm this casserole in the microwave until warmed through.
- TO FREEZE: Store leftovers in an airtight freezer-safe storage container in the freezer for up to 3 months. Let thaw overnight in the refrigerator before reheating.
- TO MAKE AHEAD: To make this dish ahead, chop all the fresh veggies and brown the meat. Store them in the refrigerator in separate containers until you’re ready to prepare the casserole. You can also place your bag of frozen spinach in the refrigerator to thaw the night before.
Nutrition
She and Kafka searched for the doll unsuccessfully.
Kafka told her to meet him there the next day and they would come back to look for her.
The next day, when they had not yet found the doll, Kafka gave the girl a letter “written” by the doll saying “please don’t cry. I took a trip to see the world. I will write to you about my adventures.”
Thus began a story which continued until the end of Kafka’s life.
During their meetings, Kafka read the letters of the doll carefully written with adventures and conversations that the girl found adorable.
Finally, Kafka brought back the doll (he bought one) that had returned to Berlin.
“It doesn’t look like my doll at all,” said the girl.
Kafka handed her another letter in which the doll wrote: “my travels have changed me.” The little girl hugged the new doll and brought the doll with her to her happy home.
A year later Kafka died.
Many years later, the now-adult girl found a letter inside the doll. In the tiny letter signed by Kafka it was written:
“Everything you love will probably be lost, but in the end, love will return in another way.”
Embrace change. It’s inevitable for growth. Together we can shift pain into wonder and love, but it is up to us to consciously and intentionally create that connection.
TOP “SpaceBalls INSTANT CASSETES” Reactions (SPOILER) Spaceballs (1987)
Everything is Connected
Written in response to: “Set your story in a world where astrology and the movements of celestial bodies deeply impact the lives of inhabitants.“
🏆 Contest #245 Winner!
Olivier Breuleux
I stared him down. Blessedly, the stars foresaw no harm would come to me, which meant that he could not force his way in or do anything rash to stop me, lest he violated the celestial plan to the same degree that I was going to. I felt like a chess Grandmaster.
“Please, Sonia, please,” he pleaded, literally falling to his knees as he did so. “You have no idea what forces you are meddling with.”
I knew exactly what forces I was meddling with. I was meddling with the Sun (330,000 Earths), with Saturn (95 Earths), with Jupiter (318 Earths). If their combined masses couldn’t stop me, that was their problem, not mine. I did what I had to do: I slammed the door in his face.
“Free will exists, Olaf,” I yelled through the wood for his edification, “and I will prove it.”
I spent the next five hours moving furniture as Patrick was asleep on the couch, always in plain view and sedated for his own good. I boarded and caulked every single opening I could see. When there was only one hour left before midnight, as indicated by at least five different clocks, I locked ourselves up into the basement and waited for the singularity to come past.
Time passed like molasses through the hourglass—but it did pass. Thirty minutes left before midnight. Fifteen minutes. Beads of sweat accumulated on my brow. Ten. Five. Three. I got up briefly to stretch my sleeping legs, and right at that moment something erupted from the cabinet next to me, which I could have sworn I had checked. Olaf jumped out. Olaf, the valiant defender of the stars, had somehow found a way in and he held a butcher knife in his hands. He fell heavily on the bundle I was ostensibly protecting, preternaturally quickly, so that I had no time to react. He stabbed the bundle over and over and over again. I screamed.
Olaf stopped as suddenly as he had started. There was no blood on the knife. The bundle was empty. He turned to me, but I was already gone, frantically pulling out the nails on the board I had used to condemn the door leading to the stairs.
“Sonia,” he said, apologetically although his efforts had been unnecessary. “The universe…”
I was already out and running like a headless chicken in the house. Thirty seconds left on the clock. Then, I howled. Olaf ran to me and saw me kneeling in front of the bathroom door, under which a red liquid was seeping. Thirty seconds.
“Get out,” I said between my teeth. “Get out!”
“The universe has spoken!” he shouted as the knife clattered to the ground. Ten seconds left. Five. Two. One. I was finally alone. I turned the handle and swung the door open. Zero.
At last I let my face regain its composure. On the ground, ketchup was running out of a dish propped up by melting ice. My vaudeville had worked, at least part of it. It was past midnight, now, so what was done was done. Hoping that the stars also bought my gambit, I walked to the attic and unboarded the small dormer window that gave onto the roof.
“Patrick?” I said.
“Mom?” he answered.
I clambered down to the slanted roof. Yes, I had left Patrick on the roof, all alone, with no way out but the ground. No, I was not crazy. Even as it attempted to murder a child, the cosmos still expected his mother to protect him. The very idea that she would willfully leave him unattended in a dangerous place was so strange, so improbable that it lied in an uncharted area of the calculations. The million dangers I foresaw in the singularity were all concentrated into the safest nooks of the house, and so I put all of my chips in the one place that I could not read. I was thrilled to savor my victory—not content with being a Grandmaster, I was now the Champion. I smothered my son in kisses. Even as I did so, he asked, in a confused voice:
“Mom, where’s Jupiter?”
I followed his gaze to the spot where Jupiter had to be, as surely as the sun rises in the East (I had taught him well). The sky at that location was black. The eeriness overpowered me for a moment, and then it sank in: everything is connected. I realized that what was impossible, was obvious: if our fate was linked to the orbits of the celestial bodies by all of these invisible threads, was their fate not itself linked to our own actions?
I ran down to my office and frantically ran calculations to get the answer to the question I should have asked at the very start: in a world where Patrick had survived the twelve strokes of midnight, where was Jupiter? To my dismay, I found only one, singular solution: in order to save my child, Jupiter had to take a completely different orbit, an orbit that went as close to Earth as… as close to Earth as the Moon did.
Rumors came to my ears from the outside. Shouts, howls, tearful cries, the noise of chaos and despair. I went out to see. On the horizon in the East, a gargantuan white crescent was rising, so large that it was soon to take over the entire sky. I felt its tide, so strong that it pulled my entire body towards it. I do not need math to know that Patrick is doomed after all. So am I. So are we all.
I’m visiting my aunt in China, and I started coughing. My aunt was concerned so she took me to her university hospital. I was a bit worried because I didn’t have insurance and have to pay out of pocket. But my aunt insisted that I should get that checked out.
First of all, I didn’t need to make an appointment with my family doctor. Nobody does. I just go to the hospital, take a number, and wait for the next available doctor. I waited for about 3 minutes and was seen by a doctor. She listened to me describe my symptoms, listened to my lungs, and sent me to get a finger-prick blood test. I went to the lab, which was located in the same building, and got the blood test done. I was told to wait for 20 minutes and scan a bar code at a machine, and the machine would print out my result. And it did. I brought the blood test result to the doctor, she took a look and told me I had mycoplasma pneumoniae Infection. She prescribed Azithromycin Tablets (5 days), and a bunch of cough suppressants to help me manage my coughing. We went to the pharmacy, which was located in the same building, to pick up our medicine.
The whole thing took less than an hour (including the 20-minute wait for the blood test result).
It cost me about 180 RMB, roughly 25 dollars (including the medicine. The 5-day treatment of Azithromycin is 5 RMB, roughly 0.71 dollars.
And my aunt, with her public health care card, gets everything for free, except for a few selected medicines that require a 10% co-pay.
If I have the same issue in the US:
US with insurance:
- Call primary care doctor → earliest appointment in 3-6 weeks
- “But I’m sick NOW” → go to urgent care instead
- Urgent care copay: $75-150
- Doctor orders blood test → sent to external lab
- Lab bill (separate): $200-400 (insurance “negotiated rate”)
- Wait 2-3 days for results.
- Doctor calls back, prescribes antibiotics.
- Pharmacy: Azithromycin Z-pack $30-80 depending on insurance
- Total: $300-600+ out of pocket WITH insurance
- Surprise bills arrive 3 months later for “out of network” something
US without insurance:
- Urgent care visit: $200-300
- Blood panel: $500-1000
- Azithromycin: $50-100
- Total: $750-1400
My company does not offer company-sponsored health care (it’s too small). So I buy my own health insurance. My monthly premium is 700 dollars, my deductible is 5000, and my out-of-pocket maximum is 10,200.
In China, I have no health insurance. I get care and prescription drugs in one hour and pay 25 dollars.
Hate China however you want, the Chinese system (for all its other problems) is optimized for population health at scale. In comparison, the US system is optimized for extracting maximum profit.
If China can do this for its 1.5 billion people, why can’t the US, supposedly the wealthiest country in the world, force people to go into medical debt to the point of bankruptcy?
Health care should NOT be a for-profit business. Health care should be like the police and firefighters: public infrastructure, offered freely (at the point of use) to the entire population.
What’s the secret behind packing kilometers of wire into a missile, and how does it stay intact during flight? 1 more answer
It’s less wire than you might think. This is a 500ft spool of 12ga THHN, as you might find in the walls of your house (there’s probably about 50ft missing from this spool – it was handy).
Guidance wire is much, much thinner, with considerably less insulation. It doesn’t carry much power after all, so 15,000ft of the stuff that fits in a fairly small TOW missile, for example, isn’t really that big a spool. All of the wire is contained in a relatively small section of the back end of the missile:
And it can certainly break, but it’s just spooled out behind the missile, so it’s not like there’s kilometers of cable being “pulled”.