Humorless Humerus: Fly on the Wall

 

Welcome to a monthly Fly on the Wall group post. Today 4 bloggers are inviting you to catch a glimpse of what you’d see if you were a fly on the wall in our homes. Come on in and buzz around my house. At the end of my post you’ll find links to this month’s other participants’ posts.

Me: Can you take a look of the pics I took for my blog?

Hubs: Sure. But I'm surprised, you're so picky, you never want anyone else's opinion.

Me: Well, I think they're great, but . . .

Hubs: But?
Me: They're pictures of a new cocktail.

Hubs: And?
Me: I kinda did a taste test or two (or twenty), so I think I should get a second opinion, in case they don't look quite as good as I think they do.

Hubs: OK, but it'll cost you.

Me: Cost me?
Hubs: Got any of that cocktail left?

Me: Ummmm . . . how about a cookie?
Hubs: Sold.

 

 

 

Do not tell my family this.

 

I went to the bathroom, which is between the laundry room and the garage door. I was going to throw my underwear into the washing machine, then head upstairs to shower.

 

I threw my underwear into the recycle bin.

Good thing I caught it. Immediately.

Also good thing no one in my family saw it. Or caught me in the garage, sans underwear, with the top half of my body down in the recycle bin reclaiming my bloomers.

 

College Boy comes up from the basement, stands at the top of the stairs for a few minutes, then I hear him talking to his dad, who's in our home office:

College Boy: Is Mom OK?
Hubs: I think so, why?

College Boy: She's just standing in the middle of the kitchen with a funny look on her face.

Hubs peeks around the corner into the kitchen, then turns to College Boy:

Hubs: Yeah, she's fine. That's her "I'm trying to remember what I came in here for" face. You'll get used to it.

A friend and I were talking about . . . well, hot flashes.

 

Me: I hate when I'm trying to sleep and I can't cool down, I have to throw off the covers.

Friend: I know, and I have an even harder time cooling down because my husband likes to hold me when we sleep.

Me: Awww, that's sweet.

Friend: And your husband?
Me: My husband likes to snore when we sleep.

 

Hubs comes into the kitchen as I'm wrapping cod fillets and putting them back in the fridge: 

Hubs: Oh good, we have fish. 

Me: Yeah, but I can't make it.

Hubs: Why not?
Me: I have a new recipe idea for it, but I can't hold onto the ingredients.

Hubs: What do you mean?
Me: I want to crust it with chips, which I bought.

Hubs: And.

Me: And ate. And bought again. And ate again.

Hubs: So buy them again and I'll hide them.

Me: Now that's just mean.

 

Chip Crusted Cod (oven or air fryer)

We were watching the Red Sox and every now and then, MLB will put a little info box below a player. I don't have my glasses on, so when an info box comes up under our pitcher, I tried to read it.

Me (squinting and reading): Brasier has thrown his sister 

Hubs (interrupting me): Sinker.

Me: Huh?

Hubs: Sinker ball. The pitcher's throwing his sinker, not his sister.

Watching the Sox again the next night, and the batter came close to getting hit by the ball.

The announcer thought the batter had been hit, so they replayed the pitch, and the announcer said that it just missed his . . . and then he stopped talking, I'm guessing trying to figure out where on the batter's anatomy the ball just barely missed.

Me (helping him out from my couch): Humerus.

Hubs: No, that's not funny at all, that 100 mph ball can really hurt.

Oy.

 

I love when the cleaners come to clean my house. I also really love my dishwasher, it fits more than any dishwasher I've ever had.

But when they leave I have to go to the kitchen and check the dishwasher, when they clean it, they often accidentally press the buttons and turn it on.

Last week, when they left, I went to check the dishwasher, but it wasn't on.

As I turned to leave the kitchen, though, I noticed a red light on my ovens. I walked up and saw a little lock icon, and it said "controls locked." Tried to turn the top oven on. Nothing. Tried to turn the bottom oven on. Nothing. Not good.

I immediately texted Hubs:

Me: What do you think about take-out?
Hubs: Tonight?
Me: I was thinking more like forever.

I wrote recently about my reaction to PurDude's phone calls. In the post, I mention the recent accident he had.

The day he was supposed to get his car back was also, coincidentally, the day I was posting the recipe for a cocktail, my Blackberry Lemonade Fizz.

As always, PurDude texted me that morning, just checking in. He works in the office a few days a week, and he was there so our texts were short.

PurDude: How are you today, Ma?

Me: I'm fine, looking forward to some of the Sox returning to the team from the injured list. How are you? Where are you today?

PurDude: I'm good. At work, really busy.

Me: Have a good day. Oh, are you getting your cat back today?
PurDude: I think you better lay off those cocktails, I don't have a cat. 

Car. I swear I typed "car."

 

College Boy needed a ride to work, so Hubs grabbed his keys and drove him. It's about a 10 minute ride both ways, and close to an hour later, I was starting to worry. Hubs was just wearing sweat pants (and bed head), it's not like he went shopping at 8am. I was about to call him when he walked in.

Me: I was starting to think you ran away from home.

Hubs: I wouldn't do that.

Me: Awww, cause you love your family?

Hubs: Well that, and you've got the coffee on . . .

 

 

 

Now click on the links below for a peek into some other homes:

Menopausal Mother 

The Diary of an Alzheimer's Caregiver

What TF Sarah

Chip Crusted Cod (oven or air fryer)

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
2 Cod fillets, about 1/2# each

1/4 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

1/4 tsp paprika

1/4 cup flour

1/4 cup milk

3/4 cup crushed sour cream and onion potato chips

olive oil spray

OPT: remoulade sauce, tarter sauce, or lemon for serving

Directions:

*Rinse the fish and pat dry. 

*Place the flour on a dish. Mix in the pepper and paprika.

*Pour the milk into a bowl.

*Coat the fish with the flour mixture. Dip into the milk, just to lightly coat, then press gently into the chips until both sides are completely coated. Refrigerate for one hour.

*NOTE: cooking times will depend on the thickness of your fish. Always be sure that your fish is cooked through, that it is white, not translucent, and flakes with a fork.

*AIR FRYER: Preheat the air fryer to 400 degress for 5 minutes. Place the fish in the air fryer and spray with olive oil. Cook at 400 degrees for 5 minutes. Carefully flip the fish over, spray with olie oil again, and cook for another 5 minutes. Test for doneness, continue to cook at 1 minute intervals, if needed, until the fish is cooked completely.

*OVEN: Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Grease a small baking sheet, place the fish on the sheet and cook for 5 minutes. Carefully flip the fish over and allow to cook for another 5 minutes. Carefully flip the fish over and allow to cook for another 5 minutes. Test for doneness. If needed, continue to cook, checking at 2 minute intervals. 

 

 

 

 

Homer Did It: Word Counters

 

 

 

Counting my words again. 

Today my fellow Word Counters and I are sharing our monthly group post. Each month one group member picks  a number between 12 and 50. All participating bloggers are then challenged to write something (or a few somethings, as the case may be) using that exact number of words. Today we all share what we came up with. 

This month's number is 30. It was chosen by Me!

 

 

 

 

 

Most often with these Word Counters posts, I choose a theme and use my word count multiple times in keeping with the theme. This month I'm doing it a little differently, I'm telling a true story, it's a mystery. Don't worry, I'll let you know who-done-it.

~ One year ago, almost to the day, I wrote this Word Counters post: It's A Mystery. I talked, as I often do, about my love of mystery shows and novels.

 

~ I also lamented about how, as I age, there's little mystery to the homespun who-done-its around here. It's me. Today I'm sharing a story, about a recent mystery. 

 

~ I wake up earlier in the morning than I'd like to. There are things I do every morning, to open up the house and prepare for the day. First, coffee.

 

~ This day, I grabbed my coffee and started my daily routine. In the hallway, I opened the window, in the den, unplugged my laptop, in the office, opened the blinds.

~ Started a wash in the laundry room, then into the kitchen, to prep food for recipes I'd make later. Needed a sip of coffee, of course, but it was gone!

Martini Chicken

 

~ Gone? No way! I looked everywhere in that kitchen, but it was nowhere. Alright, retrace my steps. The hallway? No coffee. The laundry room? No coffee. The office? No coffee.

~ As I was leaving the office, I walked by Homer. Yes, Simpson. Although I can't claim him as a dependent on my taxes, he resides here, a squatter of sorts.

 

~When the boys were younger (a lot), they went through a Simpsons phase. But then don't we all? Somehow, at some point, they ended up with a blow-up Homer.

 

~ Was it maybe a freebee associated with a Simpsons movie? Anyway, the boys put him in the office on a counter stool, and there he's resided. For like fifteen years. 

~ Was Homer in a bad mood? Woke up on the wrong side of the chair, thought he'd enjoy watching my frantic search?

Or, like me, maybe Homer just needed coffee.

 

 

Here are links to the 

other Word Counters posts:

On the Border 

Messymimi’s Meanderings 

Martini Chicken        
                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 box (12 oz) rigatoni

1 TBSP olive oil 

2 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves, chopped

1/4 cup onion, chopped

3/4 tsp salt 

1/2 tsp pepper 

3 TBSP gin

2 TBSP vermouth (can substitute dry white wine)

1/3 cup lemon lime soda

1 can (12 oz) evaporated milk 

1/2 tsp lemon zest

1 cup pimento stuffed green olives, drained

 

Directions:

*In a large pot, cook the rigatoni to al dente. Drain and keep warm.

*Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the chicken and the onion, sprinkle with the salt and pepper. Cook and stir until the chicken is cooked through.

*Once the chicken is cooked, add the gin, vermouth, and soda to the pan. Bring to a boil and allow to boil for 2 minutes.

*Add the evaporated milk and lemon zest. Return to a boil, lower the heat slightly and simmer, stirring gently, for 5 minutes. Add the pasta and olives. Gently stir for 1 more minute.

Punish or Pardon for Pie: Use Your Words

 

 

Today’s post is a monthly writing challenge. If you’re new here, this is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once. All of the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s  participating knows who got their words and in what direction the recipient will take them. Until now.

 

At the end of this post you’ll find links to the other blogs featuring this challenge. Check them all out, see what words they got and how they used them.

I'm using:  policeman ~ incorrigible ~ delight ~ reckless ~ stop
They were submitted by Diane of On the Border.

 

  

I'm laughing as I'm reading these assigned words. Why? Because of who assigned them.

 

Diane uses her words each month to treat us to the latest chapter in her fictional story about the multiple mishaps of her protagonist, Sally. I look at the words that she sent in and all I can think of is that these would be perfect words for a Sally story.

 

But since I didn't assign her words back to her (wouldn't that have been a fun surprise), I'm going to let them inspired me to write you a little piece of fiction myself today. A short story not about mishaps, but about . . . well, you'll see . . .

 

"Make an arrest," the policeman thought wearily to himself, "that's what you've been trained to do." Lashing out, fighting, was impulsive, reckless, someone could have been hurt. You just cannot lose your shit like that and have there be no consequences.

He'd been well trained, and schooled on the streets, about how giving a pass to an unchecked temper is often a precursor to escalation. The long term ramifications can be bold, even incorrigible behavior, something worse that would have to be dealt with. Yes, even at the exhausting end of an 8 hour shift, the responsibility to put a stop to it now is his. It's a commitment he made, one he takes seriously.

 

But the truth is, it's late, and de-escalation of this kind of unruly behavior takes time, patience, even explanation. Right now, nothing would please him more than to have the option to forget what he just witnessed. Then he wouldn't have to put off for another minute making his way to that delightful Cranberry Apple Walnut Pie his wife baked today. He could hear it calling his name.

 

 

Cranberry Apple Walnut Pie

 

But he's on scene, and unfortunately, without back up, he's the only one on scene tonight. So, this latest incident is officially his to deal with. 

 

Damn!

 

"Although," he thought, leaving the den and heading for the kitchen, "despite all of my training, perhaps an arrest would be a bit excessive. "They do say it's best to just ignore these tantrums. She is, after all, not even 3 yet."

 

Well, that . . . and pie . . .

 

Here are links to all the other Use Your Words posts:

On the Border

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver 

Climaxed 

What TF Sarah

Part-time Working Hockey Mom 

 

 

Cranberry Apple Walnut Pie

                                               ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 pie crust

1 TBSP flour

4 apples of your choice, cored, peeled, and sliced into about 16 slices each

3/4 cup brown sugar

1/4 tsp salt

1/2 tsp cinnamon

2 TBSP flour

1 can (1 oz) whole berry cranberry sauce

1/2 cup chopped walnuts

3/4 stick butter, cubed

3/4 cup flour

1/3 cup brown sugar

Directions:

*Place a large piece of tin foil in the oven and preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

*Spread 1 TBSP flour over the pie crust. Flip the crust over, into a deep dish pie pan so the flour is on the bottom. Fit the crust into the bottom and up the sides of the pan. Crimp the top between two fingers, all the way around.

*Place the apple slices into a bowl with 3/4 cup brown sugar, salt, and cinnamon. Mix to coat evenly. Remove about 16 apple slices and arrange in the pie crust. Remove another 10 slices and set aside.

*Cut the remaining apple slices in half (chunks), add 2 TBSP flour, the can of cranberry sauce, and the walnuts. Mix well and pour evenly into the pie crust over the bottom layer of apples.

*Place the cubed butter in a bowl. Cut in 3/4 cup of flour and 1/3 cup brown sugar and, using the tines of a fork, mash together until it forms a crumble. Sprinkle over the pie, then arrange the reserved apple slices on top.

*Place the pie on the tin foil in the preheated oven. Bake for 55 minutes. Cool to room temperature before slicing.