Author Archives: mbajane

The adorable, always humorous MBA Jane is my way of honoring our Sisterhood Merit Badge program, now with 6,571 dues-paying members who have earned an amazing number of merit badges so far—9,327 total! Take it away, MBA Jane!!! MJ 

To help my sweetie-pie neighbor, Piper, earn her Beginner Level Garden Gate/Get Buggy Merit Badge, I devised a sneaky plan.

Well, maybe it wasn’t sneaky, but it sure was clever (if I do say so myself … and I do).

You see, like a lot of little ones—especially the female ones—Piper wasn’t overly fond of insects. Maybe it was their spindly little legs; maybe it was their ability to appear when they’re least wanted; maybe it’s because her brother, Joey, likes to toss them on her head … well, whatever the reason, I was bound and determined to change Piper’s outlook on all things buggy.

photo by Dominik Stodulski via Wikimedia Commons

We started with a scavenger hunt (the ones we can’t find in our area, we simply looked up online). That’s right, a scavenger hunt of the bug variety! No little kiddo can resist a scavenger hunt. Golly, I can’t resist one either, actually … which explains why I was up in an oak tree chasing a fuzzy caterpillar earlier this afternoon.

MBA Jane’s Buggy Hunt

A. Ladybug

B. Bumblebee

C. Dung beetle

D. Silkworm

E. Cochineal

F. Blowflies

G. Honeybee

H. Fruit flies

Next, we matched the bugs to their helpful qualities:

1. Let’s hear it for pollinators!

2. Eats … um, poop. Well, somebody’s gotta do it, right?!

3. This guy helps scientists in the laboratory with genetics and biology, though they don’t make white lab coats small enough for him.

4. Can you say ‘honey,’ and ‘beeswax?’

5. We appreciate these bugaboos for producing red dye for clothing, lipstick, and food. Although we really only appreciate the cloth part … ugh for the other two!

6. Eats aphids. Better them than us!

7. Makes silk for cloth. Gotta love a set of decadent silk pillowcases on a hot summer’s night. Thanks, buggies.

8. Doctors use these handy bugs—that are members of the maggot family—to help stop infections. Wow!

At the end of our little hunt and educational bonding time, Piper and I felt like real entomologists. We had a brand-new love and gratitude for the tiniest members of the animal kingdom (although we couldn’t find a good reason for the existence of cockroaches or mosquitoes, no matter how hard we tried).

And we barely jumped at all when Joey flicked a few Daddy Long Legs at us.

photo by James Petts via Wikimedia Commons

*Answers to Jane and Piper’s Entomology Hunt

A/6

B/1

C/2

D/7

E/5

F/8

G/4

H/3

The adorable, always humorous MBA Jane is my way of honoring our Sisterhood Merit Badge program, now with 6,487 dues-paying members who have earned an amazing number of merit badges so far—9,234 total! Take it away, MBA Jane!!! MJ 

The adorable, always humorous MBA Jane is my way of honoring our Sisterhood Merit Badge program, now with 6,487 dues-paying members who have earned an amazing number of merit badges so far—9,234 total! Take it away, MBA Jane!!! MJ 

For this week’s Farm Kitchen/Get It Together Intermediate Level Merit Badge, I got to start with one of my favorite things to do:

Making a list.

I heart lists. Sometimes I make lists about making lists. Or about how much I love lists, numerically or alphabetically.

photo by Adam Diaz via Wikimedia Commons

I sense your confusion and raised eyebrows from here. Let me explain:

• Make a list for DIY rainy-day projects
• Make a list for veggie shopping
• Make a list for camping destinations
• Make a list for prioritizing your lists

Etc, etc. You get the drift.

Anyway, I love lists because I love order and peace and the sense of accomplishing something, and also because I really have a thing for bullet points. They rock my world, chickadees.

So, my list today was how to have a working kitchen. At first glance, when I read that title, I pictured some sort of robotic, maid-and-butler-occupied, steampunk kinda thing, but I was making things more complicated than they needed to be (control your surprise). A working kitchen, my girls, is …

Well, I suppose it’s a bit different for every woman, isn’t it? For example, my friend, Midge, has triplets. Her working kitchen is likely going to include easy-to-clean, wipe-down-able, child-height, types of things. My gramma, Barbie? Her working kitchen would include a high-quality blender for Daiquiri Night when her girlfriends come over for Bunco, and the oven is only for decoration (she has a crush on the pizza delivery man).

photo by Bradross63 via Wikimedia Commons

For myself, now, a working kitchen is going to include some real key items, and they aren’t necessarily the same key items I would have included a mere few years ago. I am a changed woman, you see … and I no longer have a need for a microwaveable egg cooker, a touchless paper-towel dispenser, a hot-dog scorer, an automatic pancake maker, a corn kerneler, and a few other things that make ya go, whaaa?

Oh, and possibly three different makes of salad spinners.

Ahem. How embarrassing.

Anyway, I sent all my priceless artifacts weird inventions to my local thrift shop and got busy making my Dream Working Kitchen List.

MBA Jane’s Must-haves for a Working Kitchen:

• A multi-level baking rack. How neato is this for my Annual Home-baked Pizza Cook Off?
• A good quality mixer (pizza dough doesn’t make itself, peeps). Maybe a royal blue KitchenAid … or a bright red … or a lime green … or a pumpkin-orange … so many choices, so little counter space …

photo by g2boojum via Wikimedia Commons

• My apron collection and a lovely place to hang/display them.
• Good-quality kitchen shears for slicing me some chives (mmm, baked potatoes …).
• A French press and a tea kettle.
• A crockpot for long winter days (or conversely, long summer nights; I like to plug mine in on the porch when it’s just too darn hot to have anything warm in the house).
• Good knives. I only need two really: a butcher knife and a bread knife. I keep them outside of a drawer to avoid nicks and cuts when searching, and instead keep them in a cute letter holder.
• And the most important, I gotta have it, no holds barred, I will not be budged from ordering this right now this very second.

I’m sure the foodies out there agree with me. It’s just the bare necessities, really!

The adorable, always humorous MBA Jane is my way of honoring our Sisterhood Merit Badge program, now with 6,487 dues-paying members who have earned an amazing number of merit badges so far—9,234 total! Take it away, MBA Jane!!! MJ 

For this week’s Make it Easy/Relaxation Expert Level Merit Badge, I took my newfound sense of relaxation and clear-headedness to my local yoga studio. That’s right: I became a yogi.

photo, Robert Bejil via Wikimedia Commons

Well, kinda.

Turns out, some people really dedicate their whole lives to this pursuit of relaxation, so perhaps I didn’t become quite an expert while earning my Expert Level Merit Badge, but I gave it my all. Besides, my vast collection of yoga pants were under the mistaken assumption that they were created to lounge around on my couch, eat snacks, and participate in Netflix marathons. I had to have a little heart-to-heart with my pants.

What? You don’t have heart-to-hearts with your pants? Huh.

Back to what I was saying. I gave it my all. All my sweat. All my muscle mass. All my flexibility (or lack thereof). All my blood, sweat, and tears.

I.

Am.

Not.

Exaggerating.

Okay, I’m being a little dramatic, but only a little. You know how the infomercials and the girls in their organic hemp clothing, with their pseudo-messy buns and their nonfat lattes, MAKE it look?

They Make It (Look) Easy.

Haha! Just a little merit-badge humor there.

But truth be told, I was in way over my head. To be precise, I was in over my head with my legs twisted around my ears, my toes spread out like spider monkey’s, my bum poking the yogi behind me, and—artistically speaking—I was up a creek without a paddle. I had seen less complicated poses playing Twister. I was pretty sure I was going to need the Jaws of Life to remove my poor self from the Dragonfly Pose.

photo, Robert Bejil via Wikimedia Commons

Dragonfly Pose. Downward Dog. Eagle Pose. Elephant Truck Pose.

I needed a Sloth Pose. Or a Roadkill Pose. Can I get an Amen?

These were tough. I wasn’t entirely certain I was going to make it out of my class alive, much less earn my badge. The students around me were pros. They were twisted into shapes I’d only ever seen at the mall when I was buying soft pretzels. They oozed capability. I oozed wheezes and gasps and beads of sweat larger than a crocodile’s tears.

I wasn’t sure this was exactly relaxing me, and wished I had signed up for a nice watercolor class instead as I dipped my body into the Flying Crow Pose. Or tried to. I got tangled in my newfangled yoga toe sox (I was suckered into them because of the name, peeps!).

http://www.socksaddict.com

I accidently dangled my hair in my non-full-fat latte, and my yoga mat took on a life of its own. Basically, it transformed itself into a magic carpet. I took a ride—and a header—into my neighbor. Well, it IS called Flying Crow Pose.

Anyway, my new pal was very forgiving (something about yoga relaxing her temper, I think she said. It was hard to hear because I had latte in my ear, my messy bun was in my line of vision, and I was trying to untangle myself from my mat where it was attempting to murder me).

I made it through though, and although I didn’t feel precisely relaxed, I did feel accomplished.

And dare I say, so did my pants.

The adorable, always humorous MBA Jane is my way of honoring our Sisterhood Merit Badge program, now with 6,450 dues-paying members who have earned an amazing number of merit badges so far—9,160 total! Take it away, MBA Jane!!! MJ 

For this week’s Outpost/Pampered Pets Expert Level Merit Badge, I sat Ms. Twinkles down and had a stern discussion. My frolic-y, paranoid, yappy, temperamental Pomeranian sometimes needs a good, old-fashioned, come-to-Jesus type of talk, and since she had just gone through my trash and yakked up a chicken bone all while barking madly at a leaf blowing by the window, I figured now was as good a time as any. In order to earn my Expert Level Merit Badge, this was my mission:

• Volunteer at your local humane shelter, equine therapy ranch, or other animal-care facility. Spend 10 hours volunteering or Complete Canine Good Citizen training with your dog, and consider continuing his training to be a therapy dog.

Photo by Peter Wadsworth via Wikimedia Commons

“Okay, fuzz face, this is how it’s gonna be,” I began, disentangling myself from my constant lap sitter. “Off! Dude, pay attention! Let go of my sweater.”

A branch tapped the window and Ms. Twinkles started up with her mad yipping again. She jumped up and down like a toddler who’d eaten the whole box of fruit snacks.

“Down, Ms. Twinkles!” I shouted, as she pulled down my drapes in her feverish pursuit of nature. “Stop it this instant!”

This was not going to work. My dreams of Ms. Twinkles becoming a therapy dog or even lasting more than 10 minutes in Canine Good Citizen Training was rapidly fading.

I sighed and left her chasing the mailman as I headed out to my local animal shelter.

They promptly signed me up for something called “House Training.” I hoped having a well behaved ex-shelter dog of my own was not a prerequisite. It was a little embarrassing to be trained by what looked to be an 11-year-old volunteer, but I bravely soldiered on as we walked the length of Dog Town. Such cuties. I loved them all and wanted to take them all home immediately.

“Dude, pay attention,” said the 11-year-old. She was hard-core. I snapped to attention and tried to ignore the ever-so-adorable Border Collie who was making eyes at me.

Photo by John Haslam via Wikimedia Commons

I spent all day at the shelter and learned so much, I was excited to head home and try out my newfound education and skills on Ms. Twinkles. She wouldn’t know what hit her—metaphorically speaking, of course. She’d be eligible for Good Citizen Training in no time, I just knew it.

Things I learned at the shelter (beside how not to adopt every dog in sight. Maybe just one … or two …):

• Squirrely little dogs need a properly fitted harness when walking.
• When walking dogs past the row of kennels (or anytime you are coming in contact with another canine), put the dog on the same side as the other dog(s). You don’t want to be in the way if a fight or a snarl or a bite breaks out.
• Flattened-back ears and a cowering posture is not actually a doggy being meek. This is a bad sign. The dog is stressed and anxious. If they look away, ignoring your very existence, akin to the way a 2-year-old child plays Hide and Seek by closing her eyes, this is another sign of stress and anxiety.
• The best way to house train your newfound bestie is to take him out promptly after eating. Reward his potty efforts.

I spent five hours at the shelter, and will spend another five next weekend, hanging with the kitties and socializing them. Just call me Dr. Jane Doolittle!

Photo by Ldesgreniers via Wikimedia Commons

The adorable, always humorous MBA Jane is my way of honoring our Sisterhood Merit Badge program, now with 6,450 dues-paying members who have earned an amazing number of merit badges so far—9,160 total! Take it away, MBA Jane!!! MJ 

For this week’s Outpost/Disconnect to Reconnect Intermediate Level Merit Badge, I did a little kidnapping.

Oh, pshaw, Janey, my girl, I can hear you say. You would never!

Yes. Yes, I would.

Only my victims weren’t kiddos, they were fully grown adults.

Fully grown adults who you would think could go a full weekend without their phones, gadgets, Blackberries, laptops, iPods, and the like.

Rob124 via Wikimedia Commons

But no. Give me cranky toddlers, hyped up on sugar, with no naps, any day! They’d be a cinch compared to my irritable, technology-addicted girlfriends. Sigh. I did them a favor. Something I’m sure they’ll agree with and echo.

Once they come out of their cravings and withdrawal symptoms and start talking to me again, I mean.

So I suppose it was less like a kidnapping, and more like an intervention. Don’t get me wrong: it wasn’t easy for me to give it all up for a few days either. I mean, I’m as connected and plugged in and cyber social as the next gal, so I felt the withdrawal symptoms, too.

The shaking. The reaching for your phantom phone that isn’t there. The constant imaginary beeping and pinging you hear, even when it’s all in your head. The need to be near an electric outlet at all times in case of a dreaded and hideous Low Battery warning. The sound of silence that makes you run screaming for the nearest television. I get you. I was trembling, too, girls.

Though part of it was because I was pretty sure my friends were going to make me sleep with da fishes if I didn’t produce the tote bag that I accidentally/on-purpose left behind in town. Sixty miles away.

I soothed the savage beasties with a home-cooked meal of flatbread pizzas in our rented cabin, and by bedtime, they were all talking to me again.

Sometimes it was threats on my welfare, but still. Progress.

We stayed up late reminiscing about the Good Ol’ Days (the ones before technology took over our lives), drinking hot cocoa, and telling scary stories (most started out with Once upon a time an evil queen took away her minion’s cell phones and they threw her off a cliff and lived happily ever after without her … yadda yadda yadda).

photo, Masatoshi via Wikimedia Commons

Falling asleep was way hard. There were no comforting devices to cuddle with. No soothing pings in the middle of the night to reassure us that someone in Facebook Land loved us. No midnight Twitter arguments to pop popcorn over and debate in 140 characters or less. No Instagram selfies to post. No Tumbler accounts to follow. No blog post stats to check.  No Shutterfly photos to sort, no profiles to update, no online dating services to lie on.

It was scary. We huddled together for solidarity. We braided one another’s hair and ate more pizza. They made more threats on my life (blah, blah, blah).

By the next day, we were getting used to being without our devices. We could make lunch without taking pictures of it. We could use the bathroom mirror to check our reflections instead of taking selfies. We could have full, uninterrupted conversations.

By the third day, we were digging it. We had gotten know each other more in those three days then we had in the past decade, before our online identities had taken over our real identities.

I’m not saying they didn’t pounce on the tote bag like a starving cheetah on a pudgy zebra, but hey. It’s still progress.

The adorable, always humorous MBA Jane is my way of honoring our Sisterhood Merit Badge program, now with 6,450 dues-paying members who have earned an amazing number of merit badges so far—9,160 total! Take it away, MBA Jane!!! MJ 

Wondering who I am? I’m Merit Badge Awardee Jane (MBA Jane for short). In my former life …   

For this week’s Stitching and Crafting/Sew Wonderful Intermediate Level Merit Badge, I knew I had to conquer something. Namely: my phobia of printed fabric other than stripes or plaids.

Why stripes or plaids, you ask? My, so inquisitive. Is it because I have a secret obsession with Scottish prints? Was I a candy striper in another life? A Scottish candy striper, perhaps?

Well, no. I’ll tell you the real reason.

They’re so much easier to sew straight lines on.

For example: I made calico print curtains. They hang at diagonal-type draping (not what I was going for). I sewed a batch of polka-dot printed pillows (they were supposed to be square; let’s call the finished product … umm … hexagon-tangle). I made Mr. Wonderful a homemade button-down shirt (the buttons don’t exactly line up).

I’m a mess when it comes to straight lines. I was afraid to show myself at my monthly Sewing Sisters Club. I was ashamed to walk into JoAnn Fabrics and Crafts. I couldn’t even muster enough self-confidence to rifle through the fabric bolts at my local flea market. Something had to be done. I couldn’t live like this!

So, I did what any self-respecting farmgirl would do in a situation like this: I pretended to be infatuated and passionate only about stripes and plaids.

I had no choice.

Don’t judge me.

Eventually, the siren call of gingham was getting too much to bear.

I couldn’t look away from paisley. I found myself sneaking peeks at geometrics. I made puppy dog eyes at toile. I fell into a small coma at a fabric sale and when I came to, I was petting and cooing over a camouflage bolt.

*gasp*

When I found myself clutching a square of trompe l’oeil at 2 a.m. one night, in a clammy sweat, I knew something had to be done.

I sat myself down with a yard of plain blue fabric, and decided to learn to sew a straight seam, once and for all. I gave myself a stern talking to, a pep talk, if you will. It went something like this, in case you, too, need a blueprint for overcoming your straight line phobia:

“Okay, Jane, my girl. Easy does it. Deep breaths. Just use your handy dandy fabric pencil to mark lightly on your fabric … I said, lightly, woman! For cryin’ in the night. Okay, okay, I’m sorry. You’re doing fine. It’s a bit diagonal, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t straight, does it? Good. Good. Very good. Um, not so good. Alright, time to sew. Now, now, no shaking. Not with a needle in your hand. Very good. Okay, we’re getting somewhere. This isn’t so bad. Steady now, girl. Steady on …

I ended my 12-step program as I end each 12-step program:

With a set of lovely … and straight—well, straight-ish—curtains made of chintz. And a set of throw pillows made of toile.

photo, PoshSurfside.com via Flickr.com

Feeling proud of myself and my new badge, I decided to conquer another fear: my fear of that peach cobbler in my freezer getting freezer burn. Only one way to remedy that.

 

The adorable, always humorous MBA Jane is my way of honoring our Sisterhood Merit Badge program, now with 6,450 dues-paying members who have earned an amazing number of merit badges so far—9,160 total! Take it away, MBA Jane!!! MJ 

For this week’s Stitching and Crafting/Ink Slinger Expert Level Merit Badge, I had to pick a genre of writing.

This was tough.

Genres are like chocolate to me: they’re all good. Well, maybe not year-old Easter bunnies with the ears gnawed off that you find in the back of your pantry, but still.

Photo by domenico bandiera via Wikimedia Commons

I find myself going through genres in phases. There was the year I read every Romantic Suspense novel I could get my hands on, the year where I only wanted Non-Fiction Self-Help How-Tos, and the year I haunted the Poetry aisle at Barnes and Noble. I’m eclectic, okay? There was also the year I shamelessly collected any and all paperbacks with Fabio on the cover, but let’s not talk about that.

Anyway, I settled on the perfect genre for my Expert Level Merit Badge earning goals:

That’s right, peeps. I eat up cookbooks (pardon the pun) like crazy. I drool over their full color photographs of soufflés,

Photo by Pierre-alain dorange via Wikimedia Commons

I swoon at their luscious descriptions of exotic cheeses,

their flour-dusted pages make me melt, their mouthwatering text about sauces and side dishes scrambles my senses, and their delectable wording gives me goosebumps. Words and phrases like

Gently fold in

Ambrosia filling

Buttercream

Coq a vin

En glace

Gastrique

Bouquet garni

Chiffonade

Crème fraiche

Roux

…

They’re like balm for my soul. I collect cookbooks like some people collect stamps or spoons. They’re piled by my bed for midnight reading, they’re stacked by the pantry for easy accessibility, and they’re lovingly arranged on my coffee table for guests to appreciate. In short, I have a problem. But instead of repenting of it, I’m embracing it. And not just embracing it, but adding my own title in, to boot.

And speaking of titles, how to choose? There are so many sub-genres in my genre! Should I stick to desserts, or breads, or backyard fare, or perhaps vegetarian? Simple and easy, or complicated and snazzy? Savory or sweet?

My brain full of too many good ideas, I took a cookie break. And then a deviled egg break.

(What? You don’t take deviled egg breaks?).

My Expert Level Badge needed 20 pages of writing. 20 pages equaled 20 recipes, more or less. I wasn’t sure I could come up with 20 recipes for green beans, so I scratched Haricot Vert Haven as my title. Same problem with 1001 Exciting Ways to Use Paprika.

Titles still in the running as I feverishly scribbled out my outline and first draft:

Heavenly Hominy

Jumbo Gumbo: Large Pot Meals for Large Men

Broccoli for Eating and Foliage for Sprites

Lick the Spoon! Frostings for Beginners

How-To Barbeque with Hand-drawn Illustrations Because My Camera Fell in the Simmering Sauce

While my thoughts meandered through my head, I took a Sweet and Sour Short Rib break (What? You don’t take Sweet and Sour Short Rib Breaks?) and read through my two favorite cookbooks for inspiration and delight: My Life in France, by Julia Child tickled (and pickled) my fancy, and A Treasury of Great Recipes, by Vincent and Mary Price, sent delicious shivers down my spine …

The adorable, always humorous MBA Jane is my way of honoring our Sisterhood Merit Badge program, now with 6,399 dues-paying members who have earned an amazing number of merit badges so far—9,095 total! Take it away, MBA Jane!!! MJ 

Wondering who I am? I’m Merit Badge Awardee Jane (MBA Jane for short). In my former life …   

For this week’s Make It Easy/Candlemaking Expert Level Merit Badge, I got to channel my inner pioneer girl. Actually, she’s not very inner: she rises to the top at frequent occasions.

Maybe it’s a childhood filled with all the Little House books,

Photo by Bill Morrow via Wikimedia Commons

maybe it’s my love affair with frilly and functional aprons,

maybe it’s the fact that I crave a pony and the wind in my hair …

uh, where was I? Right, candlemaking.

I can see me now … in my ruffled nightgown, holding my candle high, as I feed the hogs and bake my own bread … Okay, okay, back to reality (and indoor plumbing; can I get an amen?).

I had already made my own candles—tea lights and Mason jar ones—but now I got to really go all Early Americana, and try my hand at making taper candles. You know the ones: long and skinny and super old-fashioned looking.

I just know Ma Ingalls probably made enough of these to burn down Plum Creek (had she ever wanted to). And the fun part of this badge requirement was getting to share the experience with a friend (no, not Nellie, I chose Midge … far less persnickety and hardly ever bratty).

What we used to make our delicious smelling beeswax tapers:

• Hemp string (Buy at the craft store. Beeswax burns hot and bright, so you want a good-quality string like hemp)
• A big chunk of beeswax (we begged borrowed stole purchased some from our friendly local bee farmer)
• A big double boiler

You could also add in some scent or color, but honestly, I was going by my new mantra WWMID? (What Would Ma Ingalls Do?)

I couldn’t picture her burning anything less than golden-colored, sweet, honey-scented tapers. A lime green, gardenia scented one? Nah. But if you’re more the WWBD? type (What Would Beyonce Do?) then add in some extra oomph.

It took a while—and lots and lots of dipping—to get a nice, chunky taper shape, so we filled the silences with my musings of living off the grid, homestead style. Midge was skeptical that I could go longer than a week without Internet and bubble baths, but I don’t know … that inner pioneer girl inside me is crying to get out!

Photo, NBC Television via Wikimedia Commons

Sometimes she pipes down when there’s a Sherlock marathon on Netflix though, so maybe she’s confused.

After our tapers were finished and hanging upside down from my kitchen pot rack, we traipsed into town (NOT on a pony. Drat.) and went shopping for store-bought candles. This is part of the badge earning, peeps. Don’t fret. We needed to learn what our fellow townspeople were burning and buying, and just how often toxins were being released as a result. The results? Shocking, I tell you. Petroleum, parabens, paraffin, dyes, and not to mention, nasty fake scents that gave me instant headaches. I wanted to replace all the candles in the stores with my own homemade tapers, but Midge assured me that wasn’t exactly appropriate. Or legal. Legal Smegal!

WWMID? Well, I suppose she would make a few more as gifts and calmly and lovingly encourage those around her to make the switch.

Now. Where’s my pony?