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I Tried to Teach My Cat About Cryptocurrency — Here's What Happened Spoiler: she walked across the keyboard and may now own part of a meme coin. Like any good millennial with more anxiety than savings, I recently decided to dip my toe further into the murky digital waters of cryptocurrency. But rather than suffer alone, I thought: why not share the knowledge with someone in my house who has even less financial literacy than I do? Enter: Mittens , my cat. She has no job, no bills, and spends most of her time licking her own butt. In other words, she’s the perfect crypto investor. Lesson 1: What is Cryptocurrency? I began by sitting Mittens down and explaining the basics: "Crypto is decentralized digital money that uses blockchain technology to secure transactions." She responded by biting a power cord. Which, honestly, is probably what most people should do when they hear about blockchain for the first time. Lesson 2: The Blockchain I showed her a diagram ...
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I Accidentally Summoned the Saucepocalypse

So, listen. I’m not saying I’m bad at homesteading, but if the zombie apocalypse hits and someone hands me a tomato and says, “Preserve this for winter,” I’m handing it back and asking for a pre-sealed can of SpaghettiOs.   Late last summer in a tragic display of optimism, Pinterest confidence, and a YouTube binge, I decided to can tomatoes for the first time. You know, like our great-grandmothers used to do. With love. And patience. And probably a lot less swearing too. The dream was warm shelves of mason jars glowing ruby red with fresh tomatoey goodness, waiting to become stews, soups, and sauces.  The reality was that my small kitchen looked like someone had been murdered by marinara. Various friends contributed 20 pounds of tomatoes to the cause.  I wanted " a lot" because I assumed they’d shrink like laundry in a dryer. (Spoiler: they don’t. They multiply. Kind like gremlins. Angry, juicy gremlins.) Anywho... Blanching tomatoes means dropping them into b...
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Conversations with my dog: An exclusive Interview with the fluffy therapist

My dog may be dramatic, slightly unhinged, and have the judgmental stare of a Victorian ghost, but he’s also my best friend. And sure, he can’t actually talk—but if he could, I’m pretty sure this is exactly how it would go:  (BTW,  I gave him a treat as a bribe just in case.) Me: Thank you for sitting down with me today. I know your schedule is jam-packed with barking at nothing and dramatic sighing. My Dog: [Licks own butt.] You’re welcome. I had to cancel a very important nap for this, so let’s make it quick. Me: Let’s get right to it. Why do you bark at the mailman? Every. Single. Day. My Dog: Because he dares to show up uninvited, and then—get this—he leaves. Suspicious behavior. I’m protecting the nation. You’re welcome. Me: Okay, but he’s literally here every day. You know him. My Dog: Exactly. It’s always the ones you think you know. Me: Fair. Moving on. Why do you insist on sitting directly on me even though you’re 60 pounds of pure dog? My Dog: You are my chosen thro...
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