Understanding everything isn’t always simple. Sometimes, we find things we don’t get. But the internet has helpful and smart people who can quickly explain mysteries. And here are 15 surprising discoveries with fascinating secrets to uncover.
1. ’’We got this as a wedding gift many years ago. But the gift giver refuses to tell us what it is!’’
Answer: Careful! It serves as a device to let you slice cheese without handling the block. It’s a cheese holder.
2. ’’What’s this plastic dolphin with slits?’’
Answer: I believe it’s a dive toy, like those dive sticks which you throw in the pool and dive down to get them.
3. ’’It’s half wood, half marble, two semi-circle dips and a mini spoon. What is it?’’
Answer: It’s a salt & pepper “pinch pot”.
4. ’’I bought a big pack of groceries from a local supermarket; they threw in this item for free.’’
Answer: It’s an orange peeler.
5. ’’What is this thing I found in my grandfather’s closet?’’
Answer: It’s to pick up sugar cubes.
6. ’’What’s this? It has a hole just big enough for a fingertip, and two nubs looking like it clips to something.’’
Answer: It’s a keyboard key remover. It’s to help install custom keys but if it didn’t come with any custom keys, they probably gave it to you to help you remove all the keys to make cleaning easier.
7. ’’What’s this electric tool? When plugged in and turned on it vibrates very intensely.’’
Answer: It’s a Swedish massager. The hand goes through the springs, and it vibrates the hand as you massage someone.
8. ’’It’s 3 inches long, appears to be nylon body with red rubbery glued-in ends. It’s light, hollow, makes no noise when shaken.’’
Answer: It’s a kururin, a Japanese fidget toy.
9. ’’Two plastic hook shaped tools with double forks on the end. What are these and what are they used for?’’
Answer: It’s a tick removal tool. It’s called a “tick twister”.
MY HUSBAND SPENT OUR FAMILY’S SAVINGS FOR A CAR ON A PARIS TRIP FOR HIS MOM — SO I TAUGHT HIM A LESSON ABOUT FINANCES.
The weight of the betrayal settled in my stomach like a cold stone. Three years. Three years of sacrifice, of pinching pennies and foregoing simple pleasures, all for a car that would keep our family safe. And he’d squandered it. On a whim. On a trip to Paris for his mother.
David, bless his oblivious heart, seemed genuinely surprised by my reaction. He’d always been a mama’s boy, and I’d tolerated it, even indulged it, to a point. But this? This was beyond the pale.
“It’s my money too!” he’d protested, his voice rising in that familiar defensive tone. “She deserves it! You can’t put a price on gratitude.”
I’d simply stared at him, my mind reeling. Gratitude? What about gratitude for the sacrifices I’d made, for the countless hours I’d spent juggling work, kids, and household chores? What about gratitude for the safety of our children?
I knew arguing would be futile. He was locked in his own world of justifications, and I wasn’t about to waste my breath. Instead, I retreated, a quiet fury simmering beneath my composed exterior.
Over the next few days, I played the part of the understanding wife. I smiled, nodded, and even helped him pack his mother’s suitcase. I listened patiently as he recounted his mother’s excited phone calls, her plans for sightseeing and shopping.
But beneath the surface, I was plotting. I was determined to teach him a lesson about finances, about responsibility, about the true meaning of family.
First, I contacted his mother. I explained the situation, the crumbling van, the precarious state of our family finances. She was mortified. She’d always been a sensible woman, and she was appalled by her son’s impulsive decision. She offered to pay for the trip herself, but I declined. Instead, I suggested a compromise. She could still go to Paris, but for a shorter period, a weekend getaway rather than a full week. The difference in cost would be returned to our car fund.
Next, I tackled the issue of David’s “my money too” argument. I opened a joint account, separate from our everyday expenses, and deposited the remaining car fund, along with the money his mother had returned. I then created a detailed budget, outlining our household expenses, including the cost of a new (used) car. I presented it to David, highlighting the glaring discrepancy between our needs and his impulsive spending.
I also introduced him to the concept of “family meetings.” Every Sunday, we would sit down together, discuss our finances, and make joint decisions about spending. The kids were included, too, learning about the value of money and the importance of saving.
Finally, I decided to address the issue of his mother’s constant demands. I didn’t want to create a rift between them, but I needed to establish boundaries. I suggested that we set aside a small portion of our budget for gifts and experiences for both our families, to be agreed upon by both of us.
The changes weren’t immediate. David grumbled about the budget, about the “unnecessary” family meetings. But slowly, he began to understand. He started to appreciate the sacrifices I’d made, the careful planning that kept our family afloat. He even started to enjoy the family meetings, seeing them as an opportunity to connect with the kids and make joint decisions.
The day we drove our newly purchased (used) car home, David looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and gratitude. “Thank you,” he said, his voice sincere. “For teaching me.”
I smiled. “We’re a team, David,” I said. “And teams work together.”
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