Not the Dumbest: Fly on the Wall

 

Welcome to our monthly Fly on the Wall, a blog post written in snippets. Marcia, Diane, and I invite you to catch a glimpse of what you’d see if you were a fly on the wall in our homes, at our writing desks, and in our worlds. Come on in, buzz around, see what we've been up to. Bet you laugh! 

I woke up in the morning, went to the bathroom, and noticed that, on the shelf next to the toilet was one of Hubs's shirts, rolled up in a ball.

Later:

Me: So, I noticed one of your shirts rolled up in a ball on the shelf in the bathroom.

Hubs: Huh?
Me: Want to explain that?

Hubs: I can't. I have no idea why I would leave it there. Sorry.

Me: That's fine, hardly the dumbest thing you've ever done.

Hubs went to the DMV to register our new car. They charge to use credit cards, so I gave him the checkbook, but warned him that we only had 2 checks left. I hadn't yet ordered more, as we rarely use them.

Hubs comes back from the DMV and puts the checkbook away.

Hubs: I did something stupid with the checks.

Me: Oh no, those were our last 2, I'll order more but they won't come for 2 weeks.

Hubs: We still have a check left. I just wrote out the last check instead of the next check in order.

Me: That's fine, hardly the dumbest thing you've ever done.

The Red Sox 3rd baseman has a strained quad. He's not only a great infielder, but we need his bat in the lineup.

Me: The Red Sox are bombing all over the place. When do we get Bregman back?

Hubs (googling his current status): Here's a quote from the manager: "Bregman running but remains far away".

Me: That's easy, just tell him to run faster.

Hubs and I were watching TV when a commercial came on. Or part of one, anyway. There was a picture of two doctors, obviously in their office, standing in front of a sign for hair replacement specialists.

OK, got the picture.

Then a voice said "change your lettuce, change your life," just before the commercial cut off.

We laughed, of course, but now I can't stop wondering how changing my lettuce would change my life. Does arugula make hair grow? What am I missing?

I had some Mahi Mahi marinating while I was baking some Chocolate Berry Muffin Bars for dessert. Dinner time came and it was nice out so instead of cooking the fish in the air fryer, I decided to cook it on the grill, my favorite way to prepare fish.

Hubs came up from his man cave:

Hubs: Are you ready for me to clean the grill?
Me: I'm going out now to check the fish, see if it's done.

Hubs: Well, don't take it off unless it's done.

Sage wisdom from a guy who can't boil water.

Chocolate Berry Muffin Bars

I went out onto the back deck to heat up the grill. On the way back in the house, I looked up, and in the corner, right above the sliding door, I notice something . . .

Oh no! A wasp, building a nest. Right where we go in and out the door. This can't be good. In fact, I'm not sure how this could be worse.

I turn off the grill, and I'm about to run out to pick up a nice safe rotisserie chicken, when I realize that I need to warn the family in case anyone comes home while I'm gone. So, I make them a quick note, and stick it to the wall by the door to the deck:

That should do it.

I know I've talked about it before, but I read a lot. Here and there during the day, but at night I read for a few hours before I fall asleep.

So I "buy" (I use quotes for that because I go through so many books, I pretty much only read free Kindle books) books using my laptop. I then download them, both on my tablet and my Kindle. I read on my tablet when I can during the day, but I leave the tablet downstairs. I keep my Kindle next to my bed, sync it up to where I left off, and read on the Kindle at night.

Hubs and I were watching a late game in the den and we were getting pretty tired. I had found a whole bunch of free books that day which were already downloaded onto my tablet. For some reason, I decided to go upstairs and grab my Kindle to get all the books downloaded and ready for reading upstairs.

It was a bad idea, I knew I was tired, but I went upstairs, grabbed the item on my bedside table and came back downstairs, sat on the couch and prepared to get onto the internet on my Kindle.

Hubs (looking over at me): Why are you holding the remote to the bedroom TV?

Damned if I know, but hardly the dumbest thing I've ever done.

Our dishwasher had been leaking. Frustrating, because it's only 7 years old, but we had been told both by a sales person and a repair person that appliances are deliberately made not to last like the quality in the past, but to be disposable. There's a calculated decrease in quality but with, of course, an increase in the price. This is obviously a pervasive, industry wide strategy targeted at exploiting the customer in order to boost sales. I mean, I don't know about you, but over $800 is not exactly a price point I consider appropriate for a "disposable" item.

So, we had a repairman coming out to look at it, we were hoping it could be fixed. I had a very lucky game morning that day, and was hopeful that it was a sign of things to come.

Turns out it was just me using up my good luck for the day. The dishwasher had to be replaced. It would cost as much to repair it as it would to replace it.

We were looking at dishwashers on line in order to figure out which units we wanted to go see and at which stores.

Another issue was availability. Obviously, we wanted it replaced as soon as possible.

First web site I went to listed their dishwashers as available for delivery on the 12th, and available for installation on the 10th.

Silly me, I thought that was done the other way around.

I was talking to Hubs about the timing of the dishwasher kicking the bucket.

Me: Seriously, the timing could not be worse. I mean really, any other month but the one where the second half of our property taxes is due.

Hubs: Yup, Murphy's law.

Me: I swear if I get my hands on that Murphy I'm gonna kick him in the ass.

It's about 9:30 am on Saturday:

Hubs: I'm going to have a cup of coffee and do a few things on my laptop, then I'll change and go out to mow the lawn.

Me: Today's not a good day for that, it's early and it's already like a hundred thousand degrees out there. You'll end up with heat stroke.

Hubs: Yeah, but the grass is getting long.

Me: I don't care, you only go in to work a few days a week, you can mow tomorrow, or Monday.

Hubs: I'd rather just get it done today.

An hour later, Hubs goes out and starts mowing the front lawn.

And I turn on the sprinkler system . . .

 

Now click on the links below and see what my friends have to share:

Menopausal Mother 

On the Border

Chocolate Berry Muffin Bars

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

12 chocolate filled chocolate sandwich cookies

12 strawberry cream sandwich cookies

1 package (7 oz) wild berry muffin mix

1 package (7 oz) raspberry muffin mix

3/4 cups milk

1 egg

1/3 cup semi sweet chocolate chips

1/2 cup fresh mixed berries: chop any strawberries and/or blackberries, half any blueberries and/or raspberries

1 container (8 oz) mixed berry cream cheese, softened

1 (5.3 oz) mixed berry Greek yogurt

1/4 cup brown sugar

1/3 cup mini chocolate chips

Directions:
*Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Grease a 9 X 13 baking pan.

*Place the cookies on the bottom of the pan in 8 rows of 4. First row: chocolate cookie, strawberry cookie, chocolate, then strawberry. Alternate the second row starting with strawberry, and continue for the 8 rows.

*Mix the muffin mixes, milk, and egg, just until incorporated. Fold in the chocolate chips and berries. Spread evenly over the cookies.

*Using the same bowl, whisk together the softened cream cheese, yogurt, and brown sugar. Mix in the mini chocolate chips. Dollop onto the muffin mixture. With a toothpick, gently swirl around the cream cheese mixture over the top of the muffin layer.

*Bake for 30 minutes. Cool to room temperature and cut into bars. Store in refrigerator.

Toilet Walking and Shower Sleeping: Fly on the Wall

  

Welcome to our monthly Fly on the Wall, a blog post written in snippets. Marcia, Diane, and I invite you to catch a glimpse of what you’d see if you were a fly on the wall in our homes, at our writing desks, and in our worlds. Come on in, buzz around, see what we've been up to. Bet you laugh! 

Me (talking to myself, standing in the kitchen, looking in the fridge trying to figure out what to make for dinner tomorrow): Tomorrow is Friday.

Hubs (walking by): Tomorrow is Saturday.

Me: These days are so confused.

Hubs: I don't think that's the days, I think that's you . . .

Yeah, he's not wrong . . .

After dinner, Hubs and I were going to watch the Sox in the den. Hubs goes up to change his clothes, and I put the game on.

Me: Oh, you're a dirty, dirty boy.

Hubs (just walking into the room): Am I interrupting something?
Me: No, just talking a little dirt.

Hubs: I don't know whether to ask . . . or leave . . .

So, what actually happened is that a player had just slid into second base. And he was filthy. From head to toe, even jumping around pulling on his belt trying to release the dirt from down his pants, which really bothers the mom (and family clothes washer) in me.

We had picked out a new car and Hubs was going to pick it up. I was in the middle of baking when the car was ready, so he was going himself. He had really enjoyed his BMW SUV, but it was more trouble than it was worth at this point, so it was time to let it go.

When he walked out the garage door, I decided to rush out the front door and just watch the car leave for the last time. I waited and I waited, but he didn't come out. I peeked into the garage, and the car was there, so I hadn't missed him. 

Finally he started the car and pulled out of the garage. He had his phone to his ear so I figured that must be what took so long, he'd gotten a call. But when he pulled out of the garage and saw me, he had a strange look on his face. He opened his window, pointed to his phone and said he had been calling me.

So, yes, he was in the garage calling me . . . while I was in the driveway waiting for him.

Watching baseball again (yeah, we do that quite a lot). This particular pitcher didn't make use of most of the strike zone, almost all of his pitches were low.

Hubs and I were frustrated as one of the Sox batters swung at the first ball thrown, low, it was a strike. Second pitch he swung at was so low it was more like he was golfing than playing baseball.

Hubs: That was ridiculous, why swing at a pitch so low?
Me: Both of this pitcher's balls are low.

Of course, we both broke out laughing.

Hubs: Want to try that one again?

Me: Nope.

I was in the kitchen trying out my new recipe idea, a Strawberry S'Mores Galette, and Hubs went out front to do some weeding and trimming.

When I put the galette in the oven, I went out to talk to him. He wasn't in the front yard, but the rake and some clippings were there. He wasn't in the side yard, but the wheelbarrow was there. No sign of him on the other side of the house. Thinking he'd gone out back into the woods to drop off some limbs, I checked, but he wasn't there either. 

I looked all around the house again, but no luck. It was like poof, he'd just disappeared in the middle of working. Baffled, I went into the house. There by the garage door was his cell, so I couldn't call him.

I started to get worried, then I realized that, what the hell, if he's hiding, he'll eventually get hungry. And if aliens kidnapped him, they can feed him, and I've got the galette to myself.

So, win/win, right?

Strawberry S'Mores Galette

I'm not saying my writing is perfect, far from it. I've even relaxed a little personally, like starting sentences with "but," or "and." I don't like the term "Grammer Nazi," and although I find some of those mistakes tough to read without correcting in my head, Nazi isn't a term to be used lightly.

Even though I don't follow many of the sentence structure rules I grew up with, I pride myself on knowing when to use there, their, and they're, and cannot stand when an apostrophe is used when the word is plural, not possessive. {{sigh}}.

But the use of commas can be important too. Not just to me, but to the context of what you're saying. Sometimes, though, it's funny.

I was reading an ad for a beachfront home for rent, perfect for an extended family or multiple families to share. It was described as having 5 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, an outside shower sleeps 10, bedding included.

So . . . an outside shower that sleeps 10? That sounds awful . . . friendly.

Or is it 5 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, an outside shower (insert comma here), sleeps 10, bedding included. 'Cause there's a pretty big difference between those two sentences. Just sayin'.

 

Anyone else ever have a walking toilet?

Hubs was at work when I noticed, when walking into the bathroom, that the water was continuously trickling into the toilet. It wasn't running and flushing constantly, just kind of trickling. So I texted Hubs:

Me: I think there's something wrong with the toilet by the laundry room.

Hubs: Is it running? Can you turn off the water source until I get home?
Me: I don't think I need to do that.

Hubs: Well, I don't want it running all day.

Me: I wouldn't say it's running per se, more like just going for a brisk walk.

There was a kind of a long pause, then finally he answered.

Hubs: OK. I guess I'll take a look at the walking toilet when I get home.

Me: Sounds like a plan.

A semi retired husband requires some adjustment. But it's also brought about hindsight perspective. 

For years, I'd do the grocery shopping with babies and toddlers and it was not easy. One of the biggest challenges was the fact that they wanted . . . pretty much . . . everything. And, you know that once you got half of that stuff home they wouldn't touch it. Somehow, what's tempting in the store isn't necessarily so at home.

Shopping trips required both negotiating skills, and a whole lot of patience.

Then for years I could mosey down the aisles in solitary bliss.

Fast forward to now. Off to Aldi the other day and Hubs thought he'd come along. Yes, he drove to the store, got the cart, even followed along behind me so I could just throw what I wanted into the cart. Hmm, I can live with this.

And then, suddenly, he (and my cart) are wandering off on their own. And I'm dusting off those negotiating skills and patience, 'cause it seems (some) husbands want . . .  pretty much . . .  everything too. Ugh.

So we made a new family rule. OK, I made it, but as negotiations go, I thought it would work out.

I told Hubs that for every 5 items he wanted, he could pick one.  

Hubs shows up with 5 items in the cart:

Me: OK, so pick one.

Hubs: I already did.

Me: No, you took all five.

Hubs: No, I put back the other 20.

My rule may need a little tweeking . . .

I'm sure you know that Aldi has a shopping cart system different from most stores. The carts are lined up and locked. You put a quarter in the slot of the first cart, it releases the lock, and you take the cart.

When you leave, you bring the cart back, lock it back in, and you get your quarter back. Not a difficult concept.

So, when we get to Aldi, I give Hubs a quarter and he meets me inside with the cart. When we leave, I wait in the car as he returns the cart. I wait, and I wait, and I wait. What the hell?

Finally, he comes back to the car, obviously exasperated, and starts to leave.

Me: What's the matter?
Hubs: I owe you a quarter.

Me: Huh?

Hubs: I couldn't figure out how to get the quarter back.

Me: What do you mean?

Hubs: I pushed the cart back into the line, but no quarter came out. They should have directions or something.

Me: Were you recently electrocuted?

Yeah, I'm still using that line. And still thoroughly enjoying it.

Lately, I've been ending these posts on a more serious note, and I'm doing that today as well.

I grew up outside of Boston, but I live in the Midwest. I'm not happy here for a whole list of reasons, but the political and resulting social climate is top on the list.

Listen, I was disheartened, but had been here long enough not to be surprised at the trump yard signs in my own neighborhood. When trump lost his second election I was, but probably should not have been surprised to see "impeach Biden," yard signs in my neighborhood BEFORE Biden was even inaugurated.

And, of course, since that time things have gotten so much worse. It's not safe to admit to being gay, Jewish, of Hispanic descent.

As I'm sure you know, June is pride month. And I was so impressed to see, in a neighborhood of ignorance, bigotry, and lack of inclusion, something new pop up.

A small garden of hope in this morally barren state.

 

Now click on the links below and see what my friends have to share:

Menopausal Mother 

On the Border

Strawberry S'Mores Galette

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 refrigerated pie crust (half of a package)

10 mini marshmallws

25 mini fruit flavored marshmallows

1/3 cup chocolate chips

4 strawberries, hulled and sliced

OPT: 1 tsp sugar

Directions:
*Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Roll out the pie crust on a piece of parchment paper to about a 12 inch circle. Move, on the parchment paper, to a baking sheet.

*Sprinkle the marshmallows over the crust to about 1 1/2 inches from the edges. Top with the chocolate chips, then the sliced strawberries. OPT: sprinkle with 1 tsp sugar.

*Bake for 25 minutes, allow to sit for 5 minutes. Slice and serve warm.

Electrocuted: Fly on the Wall

 

Welcome to our monthly Fly on the Wall, a blog post written in snippets. Marcia, Diane, Sarah, and I invite you to catch a glimpse of what you’d see if you were a fly on the wall in our homes, at our writing desks, and in our worlds. Come on in, buzz around, see what we've been up to. Bet you laugh! 

I recently saw a commercial for Dish TV in which a bird asked a hyper (aren't they all?) squirrel "were you recently electrocuted?" I thought it was such a great burn, I started using it.

Hubs: Supposed to be a beautiful sunrise tomorrow, want me to wake you up?

Me: What time?
Hubs: About 5:30 am.
Me: Were you recently electrocuted?

Response on Threads to a post about the continued attacks by the trump on medicare, medicaid and social security: He is the best president ever making America great again.
Me: Were you recently electrocuted?

I was sitting out on the back deck when I saw one of the workers from a new internet company laying cable in our area. He walked through the end of my neighbor's back yard, continued along the tree line of large cottonwoods along the woods behind my house. Clearly, he didn't see me. All of a sudden he stops, kicks one of the big trees, takes about 6 more steps, kicks another tree, and keeps going into my neighbor's yard on the other side.

Me (from the deck): Were you recently electrocuted?

Random Email from the co-founder of a company in Hamburg, Germany: We are searching for an online site to acquire. Your site came up in our research. Would you be interested in starting a conversation with us?

Me: Were you recently electrocuted?

But I need to be careful not to let the wrong word slip. When I somehow mistakenly asked Hubs if he'd been recently executed (oops) . . . let's just say the humor gets lost in the translation (so to speak).

I'm not someone who considers herself to have an especially dirty mind, and certainly not when it comes to produce.

But when you place your grocery pick up order online and it includes a sweet potato and a couple of russet potatoes, and this is what you get:

I mean, what am I supposed to do with this?

Wait, don't answer that. But here's something I know for sure, I'm not going to be peeling that thing.

I've mentioned before that, with the woods in our backyard, we have with all kinds of wildlife. Most of it we really enjoy, but some are actually quite destructive. Like the woodpeckers, who have cost us thousands of dollars.

And then there are the moles, who destroy our yard.

Hubs was advised to buy these solar mole deterrents, you put the plastic stake in your yard, the solar sensor is fitted into the top and emits a pulse and a sound that apparently the moles don't like. For the past few years, when we see we have a problem, Hubs puts them in the back lawn.

A few weeks ago, our neighbor came over to let us know that our yard and his were being attacked. He put out a trap, and Hubs put out 4 the solar deterrents.

A couple of days later I was in the back yard and almost tripped over a plastic stake sticking out of the ground. I looked around, and about 3 feet to the right, I found this:

So, I'm guessing the moles have decided to definitively make their objections known.

A recent new recipe was inspired by an impulse buy. I'd found some fresh hot chili pepper linguini, and knew what I wanted to do with it.

 

I boiled water to cook the linguini, put it in the pot, checked the directions on the package and was stumped: "boil for 2 - 3 minutes, until the product internal temperature reaches 165 degrees".

 

I mean, I've never checked the internal temperature of pasta before. Like, what do you even use? A meat thermometer? Oral? Rectal?

I was telling Hubs about the directions over dinner:

Hubs: So what did you do?
Me: I just cooked it for 3 minutes and hoped for the best.

Hubs (giving me the side eye): And if the best doesn't happen?
Me: We'll be grateful that we have 4 bathrooms in this house.

Yes, we bravely ate it. And yes, it was delicious. And yes, we were fine. Phew.

Speaking of new recipes, once I have one in my head, I'm anxious to try it as soon as I can. Sometimes, though, I just don't have all of the ingredients on hand. That happened recently. I had everything but 2 ingredients.

 

Lucky for me, Hubs texted from work and wanted to know if I wanted him to pick anything up on the way home. I texted him the short list. 

 

About an hour or so later, he texted me back:

Hubs: I know what the first thing on your list is, but I'm not quite sure about the second. Can you clarify?

 

I didn't know which item he was referring to, so I checked my text to him:

heavy cream

cinnamon pot farts

Oy. Make that Cinnamon Pop Tarts. There are no farts in my recipes. Ever. 

Cinnamon Pastry Ice Cream (no churn)

I love to read, I'm mentioned it in many different blog posts, including in one of my earliest called Read This. My genre of choice is, and has always been, mysteries. I love trying to solve the who-done-it puzzle before the author reveals it.

 

Sometimes when reading, you pick up the strangest little bits of information when you least expect it. In the book I'm currently reading, the male protagonist was on a date. He's a scientist and, in trying to impress his date (not how I'd do it, but you do you, buddy), he imparted this bit of wisdom about the planets: "you can fit 63 Earths in Uranus." 

Well I, for one, will never be able to think of the planets the same again.

 

Hubs and I have opposite eyes. He needs his glasses for close up, and I use mine for far away. I suppose if we could marry our visual resources we'd end up with 20/20, but those days are long gone.

An example of our opposite eyesight:

Hubs (looking at his cell): That's ridiculous.

Me: What is?

Hubs: My cell says it's 79 degrees, and it's more like 65.

Me (looking at his cell): Put your glasses on.

Hubs: What do my glasses have to do with the weather.

Me: With your glasses on you might be able to see that the little symbol next to the 79 is not degrees, it's percent.

Hubs: What?

Me: You're not looking at the temperature, you're looking at your battery level.

Hubs: Oh. Never mind.

Hubs brought in the mail, and right away a pink envelope caught my eye.

Me: What's that?
Hubs: It's from your mother.

Me (looking at the envelope): It's not FROM my mother, it's TO my mother.

I quickly grabbed the phone:

Me: Guess what I got in the mail today?
Mom: I don't know, what?
Me: Your birthday card.

Mom: My birthday card? My birthday was weeks ago.

Me: Yeah, I guess they're real sticklers about that whole you need to add a stamp to your mail thing . . .

Hubs and I were sitting down to watch a Red Sox game.

Or to recite a comedy routine, although we didn't know it at the time.

Hubs: Looks like Casas isn't playing first base today.

Me: Who's on first?
Hubs: I don't know.

Me (laughing): I know.

Hubs: Who?

Me: Yes.

I'm going to end this post on a very serious note. 

I have, in the past when I was publishing 8 to 9 blog posts a month, spoken out quite a bit about both the politics in this country, and the hatred unleashed by the con man currently hell bent on destroying it. I don't generally bang my head against that brick wall in my posts as much, partly because at this point, I'm mostly only publishing this monthly Fly on the Wall.

But College Boy came here the other day with a story, and a picture, that both saddened and sickened me.

He had ordered some Mexican food, and was approaching the restaurant from the back when he saw something that made no sense. There was a truck parked behind the restaurant and what looked like a dead rabbit placed on the hood.

College Boy took a picture and went inside. He asked the person at the counter if that truck belonged to an employee. It did. When he was shown the picture, the employee didn't seem surprised. He told College Boy that people "have been messing" with them. "We think it's because we're Mexican." They do have cameras in the back, and he said he'd check the video.

But honestly, I think even if he reports it, no one will really care.

Because, right now, that's who we are. 

So saddened, and sickened, and exceedingly ashamed.

 

Now click on the links below and see what my friends have to share:

Menopausal Mother 

On the Border 

What TF Sarah

Cinnamon Pastry Ice Cream (no churn)

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

3 Frosted Brown Sugar Cinnamon toaster pastries

2 TBSP cinnamon baking chips

1 can (14 oz) sweetened condensed milk

2 cups heavy cream

Directions:
*Line a loaf pan with strips of plastic wrap long enough to hang over the edges. Place in freezer.

*Toast and chop the toaster pastries. Place in freezer.

*Using a clean coffee grinder or a food processor, crush the baking chips into crumbs.

*In a large bowl, mix the sweetened condensed milk and the cinnamon chip crumbs. Set aside.

*Beat the heavy cream until stiff peaks hold, then fold into the condensed milk. Last, reserving a few pieces for the top if you want, fold in the chopped toaster pastries.

*Pour evenly into the loaf pan. Freeze overnight.

*Store in the loaf pan with the long ends of the plastic wrap folded over the top.