I have a coffee grinder that I was going to use for spices, but conventional wisdom says not to use a grinder for coffee and spices.

I think you're fine if you take a coffee grinder and convert it to spice use - it's going the other way that's an issue. Having a little coffee flavor in a spice blend is fine, having your coffee taste ever so slightly of cumin and peppercorns, less so.

Har. Yes, I can see that. I thought as much. I wonder if I grinded (ground) some baking soda in there, it would help?

You know, P-C, everyone else has weighed in with some really good advice. All I can say is that every culture has their own generational/parental issues (as bt, so clearly illustrated, all the way down the food chain), some of which are culture-specific, some of which are just family specific.

I know that with me, I was the youngest, yet was extremely restricted and held in place by fear and intimidation because of the actions of my older sister and brother. They had been the wild children, so my mother was going to make certain I had no opportunity to go down that path. Never mind that my own nature doesn't really lend itself to that behavior anyhow, but she wasn't taking chances. Consequently, I was the Golden Child, with the good grades and accomplishments, yet at the same time, I grew up pretty damned angry and didn't really realize it for a long time-- I also learned how to rebel in faintly subversive ways. Nothing overt or that could be pointed to, but I very quietly learned how to do my own thing. Even so, that desire to make my mother happy, to bring her joy, never completely went away because crazy as she can be, she's my mother and she has done a lot for me and I love her. To her credit (and I still marvel at her restraint, actually) she never put pressure on me to have kids, but I knew that was at least one thing that would make her happy-- and it did. Except now, I lived so far away. All right, then.

So even though I lived several states away, I would sacrifice vacations so that she could see her grandkids at the holidays. I moved to Florida, which I swore I'd never do, so my kids could get to know family and their grandparents on both sides. You find yourself doing unimaginable things for your kids. And to a point, that's good. But for every action, there must be an equal and opposite reaction, right? Or perhaps more accurately, what kind of lesson was I giving my kids, living somewhere I was miserable, teaching them that it was okay to sacrifice my happiness solely for the happiness of others?

So we moved. Three thousand miles. Simply because we wanted to. And my mother is still pissed. Even as she's acknowledged what a good move it's been for the kids (because even though this was something we wanted to do for us, we also had the kids' well being in mind as well, too). Last time she visited, she wanted Nate to pose for a picture for her because "Your mother never sends me pictures and the next time I see you, I'll either be dead or you'll be in college."

And most phone calls have some variation on a theme of "depriving her" of her grandchildren. But I simply can't bring myself to feel any guilt about it. For too long, my life was ruled by that guilt, that sense that I wasn't being a good daughter, that fear that anything that took me too far off some nebulous, yet prescribed path would be Bad. And I repeat, I was miserable.

I mean, how long are we expected to subvert our own lives and desires for the happiness of others who might never be happy, no matter what?

I'm 43 years old now. I didn't want to wake up, some ten or twenty years down the line and look at my life and wonder why I didn't do these things I wanted to when I had the opportunity. When they might have made a difference not only in my life, but in that of my children.

And for me, that's the greatest gift I could give my kids. To see their parents be happy because they made choices that were right for them. It empowers them, in the end, because I tell them that when the time comes, all I want is for them to make choices that make them happy. Provided it's not illegal. (Gotta draw the line somewhere, right?)

I don't know if any of my rambling will be of any help, but there it is. My family issues, let me show you them.

I wonder if I grinded (ground) some baking soda in there, it would help?

I use uncooked rice when I need to clean my burr grinder.

good daughter fail. Mom and I are back at her house, and while foraging in her overloaded fridge (my mom is a food hoarder) i pointed out that 3 of the 7 bags of shredded cheese were molding, two tubs of taboulleh are a month past date and smell terrible, and that perhaps having 6 avocados in the fridge might be excessive, since she doesn't actually cook or eat at home and i'm only here for 2 days. Plus storing not yet ripe avocados (and about a gallon of tomatoes) in the fridge pretty much kills the flavour.

Anywho, pointing out to your mom that her irrational food hoarding is wasteful? Bad idea. Now she's sulking and randomly yelling things down the stairs at me. I wanna go home and sleep in my queen sized bed with my kitties.

It's nice of her to stock up on foods i like, but all this produce in the winter? Makes me fell like i have to "clean up" her fridge into my tummy. Don't need that much acid, kthx.

stale bread can work too.

4th Amendment Wear

Now there's a way to protest those intrusive TSA X-ray scanners without saying a word.

4th Amendment Metallic ink-printed undershirts and underwear.

awesome, i apologize for criticizing her and throwing away her food, and now she's criticizing how much "stuff" i have, because clearly the best response to deflect from her hoarding is to point out mine. But i know from prior experience that i if i point out "learned behaviours" i'll get hours of diatribe and i just can't handle that. *sigh* anyone able to airlift me out of Burke, VA for 38 hours?

You're in Burke? For how long?

Dad picks me up Thursday afternoon. At mom's mercy till then.