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Monday, Nov 9, 2009
Goodbye hairballs and dust bunnies!
My Dyson Animal DC-14 changed my life. We have two dogs (aka "Mr. and Mrs Muddy Paws") and our house was constantly under attack from dust bunnies and dirt that they would track in the house. Oh, we would vacuum, but the dog hair was always still there. When we got new carpeting in October, I told my husband, "I'm buying a Dyson." When I told him it cost $500, he informed me that he had a tough time spending more on a vacuum cleaner than he did on his first car. But the Dyson made a believer out of him. No dog hair is too tough or tough to reach. Plus, you can use it on hardwood and tile floors. So, no more sweeping yippee! Also, you get the gratification of seeing everything that you've picked up because it all goes into a clear plastic container.
We had a dinner party a few months ago and shepherded all of our friends into our family room so that we could demonstrate the merits of the Dyson. At first they thought we were nuts, but they couldn't believe everything that we picked up from the seemingly clean carpeting. A few have already purchased their own Dyson, and others are talking about it. I highly recommend it and promise that it will be the best $500 you ever spend. It has changed our life -- and our marriage. My husband will even vacuum now because it is so fun.
-- Susan
A steamy savior
I roamed the brightly lit aisles of Elephant Pharmacy in desperate search of something to soothe my winter-raw throat, irritated by the dry dust of central heating.
I was sneezing, coughing, wheezing and congested. But worst of all, my throat felt like I had swallowed razor blades. I had tried over-the-counter medication, I tried reiki, gargled gallons of warm salt water -- even bummed antibiotics off of a friend. To no avail.
"Throat cancer," I had announced gravely to my loved ones. "It must be throat cancer."
Then, turning a corner, I spied salvation in the shape of a small, lidless, porcelain kettle: a Neti Pot. Once the domain of prana-obsessed yogis, I was about to become one of the converted.
I left the store, clutching the box in my hot little hands, intent on flushing out God-knows-what from my battle-weary sinuses. Postnasal drip-induced misery had overcome any lingering doubts I had about pouring warm salt water through my nose.
At first, I tipped the spout into my nose gingerly. Warm water gushed in one nostril and out the other. I was horrified. And then, strangely, satisfied. Catharsized. I imagined decades of pollen, dust and city soot being flushed from my mucous membranes. Ahh.
I could breathe freely. The pain in my throat had subsided. I filled it up again and flushed once more. Yup, definitely better.
Since then, I've touted the benefits of Neti Pots to friends, family and strangers alike. "You have to get one!" I gush like a cheerleader on caffeine. "It's amazing." The spectrum of reaction goes from disgust, "Ewww," to curiosity, "Really? It doesn't hurt?" to intrigue, "Maybe I'll try it."
Apparently, we are a population beset by upper-respiratory woes.
Recently, I chatted with a friend who I had converted to "the Neti." He had found that the elegant little pot was insufficient for his considerable proboscis and hooked up a Camelback to his bathroom ceiling for maximum flushing.
"It's great, but a Neti Pot is just a spit in the face. I need gallons of steaming hot salt to unglue my sinuses. The first time I tried it, it was like scouring the inside of my head. So good."
"How much salt do you use?" I asked.
"A lot! With steaming hot water!"
"But it's only supposed to be warm," I protested. Clearly, he had missed the Zen aspect of soothing heat.
A look of confusion passed over his face. "You mean, it's not supposed to be steaming hot?"
"Nope."
"It's not supposed to hurt?"
"Uh, no."
He though for a minute and then sat back with a grin. "Well, I like the pain. It brings it to a new level of clean. It's therapeutic pain."
My friend clearly has other issues.
But I remain a freely breathing, twice-daily Neti fanatic. No pain required.
-- Rhea Wong
"It chops! It slices! It dices..."
It was Christmas, 1981. My mother had just given me a Cuisinart, then the state of the art in appliances. I welcomed it gladly, then let it sit on a shelf for a year until I summoned the courage to use it. It became my happy '80s companion -- and like a handsome boyfriend with access to really good blow, it was fast, flashy and looked impressive. I even invested in a set of extra blades. I didn't mind wrestling it out of the space in which it lived every day and assembling and disassembling the parts, because it really did make my life easier. And, you know, it being the '80s and all, I had to make pesto at least twice a week. While wearing shoulder pads. It was the law. Something to do with Reagan.
Since then, I got married and had kids. Sure, the Cuisinart came along too, but hoisting it and cleaning the parts went down on my list of priorities. Then I found a better, smaller friend: The Braun Multiquick. Going from the Cuisinart to the Multiquick is like trading down from a giant Mercedes to a Mini Cooper. Sure, it lacks the power and the speed, but it is so zippy, so cute, and so easy to park! It used to be that in order to puree soup, I would have to ladle the soup, in stages, into the Cuisinart and, of course, when I turned it on, some of the boiling hot liquid would spill over the sides. Then I would have to pour the puree into a third bowl or pot while I pureed the rest. Well, the Multiquick has a wand attachment so that you can puree soup right in the pot.
It also chops, in its small work bowl, all manner of herbs, garlic, onions, shallots and nuts, reducing your cooking workload by easily half with its clever skills. It also comes with a large beaker you can immerse the blender wand in to use to make your own salad dressing, milk shakes and smoothies. Even more beautiful, the whole shebang comes apart to store in a drawer or on the wall mount that comes included. The whisk that comes with it is maybe the least impressive part of it -- more like a toy, really, than a mixer -- but the chopping and pureeing aspects of this wondrous little baby know few boundaries. You wouldn't use it to crush ice, for instance -- it's not that heavy-duty. But it's perfect for pureeing apple sauce, pesto, refried beans or soup. Moms: It's ideal for baby food that doesn't support corrupt regimes in foreign lands! On top of that, since it's small, the parts are easy to throw in the dishwasher.
I have bought at least 10 of these to give as gifts. And here's where it gets even more beautiful. You won't pay over $30 for the Multiquick. There is a heavier-duty one that sells for about $80 that claims to be able to chop ice and has a turbo button. It's probably swell, too, but for my dough, the cheaper one takes the cake. Cuisinart shouldn't lose too much sleep. Although the Multiquick beats Cuisinart's mini-processor, the "Little Pro," hands down, I still use my classic Cuisinart for the big jobs. Day to day, though? It's Multiquick.
-- Mimi
