Yesterday, we hustled this beast of a piano into a rental truck for a short trip across town to one half of The Owl Sisters, two Huntsville ladies who refinish old furniture. After they remove its incredibly heavy harp, one Owl Sister will move the piano (which will really be a former piano at that point) into her home, where she’ll probably turn it into a bar. Or, possibly, something even cooler.

I’ve learned that old pianos are essentially worthless unless they’ve been completely reconditioned, a process that can cost just a thousand dollars or two less than the newly reconditioned piano’s value. I’m not taking that wager.

In the past, I’ve called this the accidental piano. When I was helping my dad clean out his mother’s house, it seemed like a good idea to take it home, not because I had fond memories of it (or even played piano), but because I had always thought it was a groovy piece of furniture. I had no idea that nearly 10 years in Mobile’s humidity would render its delicate wheels virtually useless.

For me, it has held family photos and knickknacks, along with whatever objects happened to be attracted to a flat surface at any given moment. I will miss its unique addition to the general decor, but I won’t miss moving it to another house or worrying about it scratching/denting the new floor when we get around to ditching the carpet.

Au revoir, beastly piano. Enjoy your third life.

Late last week, I realized that I had never posted about my improvements to the recipe for Goat Cheese Pops with Herbs, Pecans and Bacon after I began experimenting with it last fall.

The worst part of this realization? The knowledge that the only record I had of said improvements was a marked-up piece of paper residing in either the kitchen (on a very busy cookbook shelf) or in my home office (a treasure trove of unsorted grad school stuff).

Luckily, the printout was right where I had sort of hoped that I left it, on the left corner of my filing cabinet in a short stack of unrelated papers.

Whew. Because these cheese balls drew rave reviews at a party this weekend.

I totally amped up the goat cheese from what the original recipe called for, resulting in a much bolder flavor. Although I also increased the measurements of the coating ingredients to account for more cheese balls (this recipe makes about 50 percent more than the original), I still find myself running short on coating when I have anywhere from five to 10 cheese balls left uncovered.

There are worse things than having five to 10 uncovered goat cheese balls awaiting you in the fridge, however.

Simply Irresistible Goat Cheese Balls
Makes 30-45

• 9 slices bacon
• 8 oz. goat cheese
• 4 oz. cream cheese (not whipped)
• 3 tbsp. chopped basil (divided)
• Cracked black pepper
• 1/2 cup pecans

Cook bacon until crispy. Place cooked bacon on a plate lined with paper towel and pat to remove excess grease.

Place the goat cheese, cream cheese, 1.5 tbsp. basil and a few twists of cracked black pepper in the food processor. Process until creamy and well-mixed.

Form the cheese mixture into small balls, about the size of the tip of your thumb. (Use food-safe gloves and avoid cleaning cheese out from under your fingernails later.) Place the cheese balls in the freezer for 10-15 minutes; you want them to firm up, but you don’t want to freeze them all the way.

Clean out the food processor (or use your second, smaller food processor). Crumble in the cooled bacon and add the remaining basil and the pecans. Process until the mixture is very fine and crumbly. Roll the cheese balls in the bacon mixture, pressing to lightly embed the coating into each cheese ball. (Again, break out the gloves unless you enjoy bacon shrapnel under your nails.)

Refrigerate until ready to serve. (I’ve always made these the day before serving due to time constraints — they’re fine, if not a little better, the day after.) Serve alongside toothpicks or stick the toothpicks in before placing the cheese balls on a serving platter.

Yang deftly took ownership of my green jacket in December after I left it on the bed after boot camp early one morning. It’s an actual cat place now, as in “Yang’s been on green jacket since lunch.” (And it’s not even the green jacket. It’s simply green jacket, like Atlanta or Birmingham.)

He likes green jacket to be spread out on the foot of our bed, and he often demands that we escort him there from various parts of the house. He does not object to the laundering of green jacket, although I have to move quickly to get it back in place in a timely manner.

It’s good to be the cat at Casa Shaggerty.

I’ve had several canvas art projects pinned to my Pinterest craft board for MONTHS. My favorites involved silhouettes, but the instructions invariably called for purchasing vinyl cutouts. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t just PAINT a silhouette onto the canvas, because, you know, paint is cheap. And in my garage.

Finally, I painted a clearance-rack canvas with a couple of coats of red that I had left from another project. (The canvas had cost like $2 at Target, and featured a starfish, which I somehow thought would look good in my guest bedroom, only no.)

Silhouette time. I can’t tell you exactly where I found the stencil, but if you make sure your virus protection is updated and  google “free stencils,” you’ll find tons of candidates.

I chose a bird, partly because it looked easy to cut out and partly because of Porlandia’s “put a bird on it” spoof.

I printed out the stencil and carefully cut out the design with scissors. I debated whether to try to transfer the stencil to wax paper or foil for cleaner painting, but decided that the paint likely wouldn’t go through the paper. And if it did, I could just paint everything black and make silver birds later.

Accidental Craftiness 101: Plan for Failure.

The design fit almost PERFECTLY on the canvas. I only had to cut out a 2-inch slip of paper to extend the branch all the way across. I folded over the ends of the branch and taped them down on the sides of the canvas.

After squeezing some black paint onto a Styrofoam plate (I know: paint in a tube – fancy, right?), I got to the messy part. Since I didn’t want to tape the edges of the design down on the front of the canvas (more from a fear of having the red paint lift off with the tape than concerns about the final design), I held down the edges of the paper as I painted around them. I made sure to move the brush out from the edges of the paper, rather than toward the edges, to avoid pushing paint underneath the paper. (And I’m not even sure how I knew to do that. It’s like the time I knew to stick straight pins in the drooping flowers at my future sister-in-law’s wedding shower and I was certain I had been possessed by Martha Stewart.)

I call this the messy part because HOW MUCH black paint did I get on my fingers?

A LOT. I probably should have taken a picture of THAT, only it wouldn’t be that much different from a picture of the normal state of my hands. Today, for example, I have eyeliner under two of my left fingernails. EYELINER.

After completely surrounding the silhouette pattern with black paint, I carefully pulled away the tape and lifted the paper off of the canvas. Voila … a sharp bird silhouette. My next decision was whether to try to leave a subtle black aura around the silhouette or fill in the rest of the canvas. I’m not good at subtlety, and even as I was telling the husband about my decision-making process I was filling the canvas with black paint.

A completed craft project with no cuts, bruises, broken fingernails or glue-gun injuries? WIN. Now I just have to decide where to hang it.

On Sunday, I posted this photo to Facebook, noting that I had owned this book since I was 2 1/2 years old.

It took a friend approximately three minutes to name two of the kittens (Paddy Paws and Toddly) featured in the tale. He also quickly found a link to the series, titled Books for Young Explorers, on LibraryThing.

Looking at the inscription date — December 1974 — and considering the fact that the book was from a branch of the family with whom we did not usually exchange Christmas gifts, I can only reason that this book was offered to me as a consolation prize after my little brother was born.

A kitten would have been more appreciated.

My real question is how I didn’t manage to obtain this entire series. Because a quick look at some of the titles (Amazing Otters, Animals of the High Mountains, Animals that Build their Homes) tells me that this series was written specifically for me and my kind.

It’s made it through a lot of moves and book purges, I think because I love the title so much: Little Tigers in Your Home. I also must admit, however, that flipping through page after page of kitten photos never gets old.

It’s the set of screwdrivers that my grandmother gave me for Christmas the year after I got married.

One of the first realizations I had after moving in with the husband was that our organizational styles differed. He could live with items in any number of places, whereas I enjoyed finding the same items in the same places time and time again.

Screwdrivers, for some reason, were an early ongoing issue. I would find them on the kitchen counter, under a bathroom sink, on a bookshelf or in the car. Anywhere but the toolbox. And I would NEVER find the model I actually needed. Sure, it was nice to know that the medium Phillips head was on the end table, but that knowledge wasn’t helping me tighten the flat-head screw on the top bookshelf.

My grandmother heard my laments and came to the rescue. Christmas morning, I was the envy of all the men in the room, with my full set of Craftsman screwdrivers (complete with a bonus pair of RoboGrip pliers that have since met their demise).  The tools were packaged in a vinyl organizer, so it was easy to keep track of them, and keep track I did. I all but made the husband sign a checkout card when he needed to use one for a project.

The vinyl organizer disintegrated a couple of years ago, so the screwdrivers now reside in a plastic box that formerly housed jewelry. I had to steal back the favored medium Phillips head from the husband’s office for this photo, so obviously my efforts to keep them all in one place aren’t always that effective.

It would be too simple to say that these screwdrivers are my favorite tools because my grandmother gave them to me. I mean, she made sure I had the BEST screwdriver set that she could find. What could have been a throwaway joke gift was, instead, a well-planned purchase that I’ve used time and time again.

The woman who had given me a toaster and a mixer at my wedding shower was perfectly content with the idea of her granddaughter wielding a screwdriver in the name of DIY. Awesomeness personified.

Zenni Optical may be the most important company I’ve discovered in a long time.

The three pairs of prescription glasses pictured above? They cost me a total of $28.75, including shipping.

Utterly ridiculous, right? The prescriptions must be wrong, or the frames must be ready to fall apart, or the lenses must be overly susceptible to scratches.

Nope. Every pair is comparable, in every way, to the last pair of glasses I purchased for $300-plus. A pair of glasses, I might add, that never quite fit correctly, despite numerous follow-up visits for adjustments, and featured lenses with a disorienting flare effect despite the addition of a recommended coating.

Zenni ships its products direct from China to California, then to customers. If the price difference were less dramatic, say, $250 for glasses I would pay $300 for locally, I probably wouldn’t bother ordering from Zenni. But the site lists perfectly fashionable and functional frames starting at $6.95 a pair (the price of each pair of frames pictured above, in fact).

I can only assume that this means I have been paying ENTIRELY too much for frames, even the supposedly inexpensive models sporting no name brand. I would hazard a guess that some of the same frames that Zenni carries probably get stamped with a designer label before being marked up in price some 2000 percent and going on sale here.

The one thing that I’ve always hated about glasses (and the thing that has prompted me to wear contact lenses, no matter how uncomfortable they can be at times) has been the one-pair-at-a-time problem. Glasses are so expensive that you feel like you only get to have one good pair, with maybe an old pair as backup.

Even the cheapest frames and lenses are going to set you back $200, an amount that isn’t prohibitive, necessarily, but has always made me hesitate to purchase more than one pair at a time.

I’ve always wished that glasses were like earrings: I want a selection to match moods and outfits.

Zenni has made this wish come true, turning glasses into fun, affordable accessories.

Wait until you see me in the blue pair.

This loaf of cinnamon sugar bread almost never came to be, which would have been quite unfortunate, because it was a thing of perfection, with a crunchy top and soft interior laced with more than a mere hint of cinnamon sugar.

The first time I tried the recipe, the top wasn’t crunchy, and the interior was a wet, soupy messy of cinnamon sugar and raw batter. It fell apart coming out of the loaf pan, and I had to cut it into pieces before bringing it to the office to save myself the embarrassment of co-workers trying to cut/scoop servings for themselves.

The concoction’s only saving grace? It was, beneath the disfigured clumps and raw batter, utterly delicious.

The original recipe called for all of the cinnamon sugar mixture (a full 1/3 cup of sugar and 2 teaspoons of cinnamon) to be sprinkled in one layer on top of half of the batter, then topped with the rest of the batter. The cinnamon sugar mixture seems to have liquefied and prevented the batter immediately surrounding it from baking completely.

I decided to give the recipe one more chance, figuring that if I could make smaller layers of cinnamon sugar, maybe the batter would have a chance to cook more evenly.

I didn’t get the chance until this weekend, when I babysat my nieces while my sister-in-law had a much-deserved girls weekend out. Given my ineffective Barbie doll skills (the girls got pretty upset when I couldn’t remember the names of the dozen dolls NOT named Barbie) and the cold weather preventing us from easily pursuing outdoor, more tomboyish activities, I decided that a baking project was in order.

Part of the reason I wanted this recipe to work was its ease of preparation: You literally stir seven ingredients together for the batter and then layer it in the loaf pan with cinnamon sugar. No mixer. No sifting. No melting.

After having my charges stir the batter and shake the cinnamon sugar mixture together thoroughly, I poured what I figured to be about a third of the batter into the bottom of the greased and floured pan. I then had my nieces spoon about a third of the cinnamon sugar over the batter. I added another layer of batter, then almost all of the cinnamon sugar save for about 2 tablespoons. I added the rest of the batter, then sprinkled on the rest of the cinnamon sugar.

50 minutes in the oven plus 10 minutes on the wire rack and the loaf slid right out of the pan. After allowing the bread to cool for about 20 more minutes while watching Scooby-Doo (the 2002 live-action version), we had cinnamon bread and hot chocolate out of my childhood Tupperware tea set (now theirs).

Babysitting perfection.

The original recipe came from A Whisk and a Prayer via Pinterest.

Cinnamon Sugar Bread

Adapted from A Whisk and a Prayer

• 1/3 cup white sugar
• 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup white sugar
• 1 egg, beaten
• 1 cup milk
• 1/3 cup vegetable oil

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Lightly grease a 9×5-inch inch loaf pan (I also cut a piece of parchment paper to fit on the bottom for extra non-stick protection). Stir the cinnamon and 1/3 cup sugar together.

In a large bowl, combine flour, baking powder, salt and 1 cup sugar. Add the egg, milk and oil. Stir until just moistened.

Pour approximately a third of the batter into the loaf pan. Sprinkle with about a third of the cinnamon sugar. Top with another third of the batter, then almost all of the remaining cinnamon sugar. Pour the rest of the batter in the pan and sprinkle the rest of the cinnamon sugar on top.

Bake in preheated oven for 45 to 50 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into center of the loaf comes out clean. Let the bread cool in the pan for 10 minutes before removing it to a wire rack to cool completely.

The original recipe advises you to wrap the loaf in foil and let it sit overnight before slicing. If you can endure the scent of freshly baked cinnamon bread wafting through your home without cutting a piece off until the next day, then go for it. If not, enjoy your snack today AND tomorrow.

I’ll forever be thankful to my mother-in-law for introducing me to the easiest appetizer I’ve ever served: marinated artichoke hearts.

You’re probably thinking, wow, isn’t it kind of tricky to trim artichokes? And wouldn’t you have to marinate them for a few hours before serving? Wait a minute, wouldn’t you have to cook them, too?

The answer to all of those questions is “yes.” Which is why I simply open a jar of Vigo’s marinated artichoke hearts and carve them up into bite-size pieces, which I then serve with the fanciest crackers I can dig out of the pantry. (Why Vigo? It’s in stock. There aren’t exactly dozens of brands on the supermarket shelves vying for my business.)

After all, if I’m serving a meal that’s elaborate enough to justify an appetizer, chances are I’ve already spent a couple of hours in the kitchen prepping the other dishes. This is one culinary shortcut that I find completely acceptable.

And best of all? If it’s just me and the husband, they’re mine. All mine. Leftovers get chopped up into even smaller pieces to use as a salad ingredient throughout the week, and the marinade itself makes a delicious (if somewhat thick and rich) salad dressing.

Rarely do I give a failed Internet-based recipe a second chance. There are simply too many other recipes to try, and unless I can point to something I know I did wrong (it happens), I’ll usually just write off such failures as lessons learned.

Roasted chickpeas, though? I WANTED the roasted chickpeas to work. So when the first batch came out half-crunchy and half-mushy a couple of weeks ago, I knew I had to try again. The few (very few) roasted chickpeas that were roasted to perfection were ROASTED TO PERFECTION. They were tiny, crunchy bombs of flavor.

I found two problems with my first attempt:

1. The original recipe called for what seems like A LOT of olive oil: 1.5 tablespoons for one can of chickpeas. I was left with oil oozing around on the parchment paper beneath the coated chickpeas.
2. My oven can be somewhat unpredictable. It will bake three tiny loaves of zucchini bread to utter perfection within the recommended recipe time, or it will take twice as long as it should to bake a pan of cookies. And sometimes it’ll burn those cookies on the bottom without leaving a hint of gold on their pale little tops.

So, less olive oil and more time in the oven seemed to be in order. Also, I decided to add the seasoning BEFORE roasting, since, in theory, perfectly roasted chickpeas would be dry to the touch and wouldn’t allow the seasonings to stick.

A word on the seasonings: You can use anything you like. I used Tony Chachere’s Original Creole Seasoning. I’m not sure why you would use anything else, but I imagine Greek seasoning would also work. Crafty Kristen recommends a teaspoon or two of cracked black pepper and a generous sprinkling of sea salt.

This batch turned out perfectly — even the biggest chickpeas roasted to crunchy perfection.

Crispy Roasted Chickpeas

Adapted from Steamy Kitchen

• One 15-oz. can chickpeas
• Olive oil
• Salt/seasoning mixture

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees (I might go up 25 degrees next time).

Drain the chickpeas in a colander and rinse with water. Rub the chickpeas, a couple of handfuls at a time, between two paper towels to loosen the thin skin on them. Remove the skins until you get tired of removing the skins, then move on. Your roasted chickpeas will be delightful with or without the skins.

Spread a piece of parchment paper out on a baking sheet. Or don’t — hey, I’m not washing your dishes. Spread the chickpeas out on the parchment paper. Put a little olive oil in your hands and coat the chickpeas lightly — you want just enough oil to allow the seasoning to stick. Sprinkle on the seasoning. Less is likely more.

Steamy Kitchen’s original recipe said to roast the chickpeas for 30-40 minutes, but my oven took more like 50 minutes. Stir them around about halfway through. The chickpeas will turn a deep golden brown when they’re done, but the best way to check for doneness is to grab one of the bigger ones, cool it off for 30 seconds and eat it. If it’s crunchy, you’re in business.