Dueling Convictions, Right or Rights

 This post has been exceedingly difficult to write. For someone like me who can make any short story long, that's saying a lot. There's so much emotion involved in examining our personal convictions, how committed we are to them. But I'm concerned that in my attempt to adequately express my conflicting beliefs, I risk sounding insensitive. 

 

Although the issue I'm struggling with has been in the spotlight for years, and come to the forefront as a full-fledged #MeToo movement this past year, our personal round of familial discussions was precipitated by a conversation I had with College Boy last month. Since then, I've attempted to explore my feelings and write this post, without success.

 

I've been trying to balance what seems to be opposing thoughts, articulate what feels to me like diametrically opposed beliefs and, as a result, come to terms with how inadequate being conflicted on this particular issue has made me feel.

 

One strategy I frequently use to work things through is to just sit down and write out my feelings, even in disjointed thoughts and partial sentences. As the words flow, I start to see how to put them together in a cohesive manner. Not this time. 

 

I've also tried thinking about it not only as a whole but in pieces, then deliberately giving it a rest, not actively thinking about it at all. Often if I go to the kitchen and focus my mind on a task, the issue works itself out in the background, my thoughts solidify. Not this time.

 

 

Zoodle Side Salad

 

 

Let me start with the back story:

A little over a month ago, someone sent College Boy a link. It was to a news story about one of the owners of a business College Boy had worked for last year. I need to mention here that although this man's position in the business is well known in the community and among employees, and he was actively involved in the day to day running of the company in all of the ways an owner would be, the business is now not only claiming he was not an owner, but had a lawyer send my son a letter threatening to sue him if he continues to talk on social media, as others are, about this man's position in the company. 

 

Anyway, back to the link. It was to a news story about this man's arrest. He had been accused of child sexual assault. The incident was reported by the child's mother who was informed of the situation when her children returned from spending a few days with friends.

 

Not much (any) thought needs to go into how you feel about something like that. We were heartbroken for the child and her family, furious about the despicable mom shaming comments we saw on many social media links to the article, and sickened by the situation as a whole. 

 

For us, it didn't take the #MeToo movement to solidify our support for anyone who reports a sexual assault. It didn't take Donald Trump, Harvey Weinstein, Bill Cosby, Jeffrey Epstein, Warren Jeffs, Larry Nassar . . . to exemplify how emotionally wrenching it is for victims to step into the unforgiving limelight. Nor did it take Anita Hill or Christine Blasey Ford for us to know the brutality inflicted on those victims who come forward.  

So then why the conflict?

Out of curiosity, not realizing where it would lead, I asked my son what he would have done if he'd still been working for this company. "Would you stay?" I asked him, "Or would you leave?"

"I think I'd most likely leave," he answered. 

 

"So then what about innocent until proven guilty?" I then asked. "Where does that factor in? Or does it?"

 

Because I watch a lot of true crime shows, I know there are not just predators, but there are also unscrupulous people who have used allegations of sexual assault in child custody negotiations, assault and murder defenses, for all kinds of nefarious manipulative reasons.

 

It's difficult, when someone's been arrested for a heinous crime, to give them the benefit of the doubt. The accusation is out there, along with an assumption that there wouldn't have been an arrest without enough evidence to satisfy the warrant process. But there are those instances in which it just isn't true.

I would never, ever, under any circumstance, do anything other than support someone coming forward with an accusation of sexual abuse, assault, or rape. There's no question that accusers should be afforded their voice, as well as having emotional, physical, and legal services available to them. I believe we need to not only acknowledge those who have suffered, but pave the way for them to feel safe confronting their abuse. 

And I know that the only way we'll get there is by believing all of the accusers. I don't pretend to have all the information, but those who come forward publicly, how can you not have a visceral response to their anguish? It's all consuming. Their palpable pain is right there in front of you. And it's why I'm having a hard time reconciling that support, with a basic tenet of our legal system, the presumption of innocence until proven guilty.

Why do I feel like a traitor when I say that?

Maybe because I see the statute of limitations as being a critical issue, a road block in both healing and resolution. What if it's run out? What then? When rights usurp right? No resolution for anyone, either party, and the possibility that our system enables sexual predators to continue victimizing. 

 

There should be no statute of limitation for any sexual crimes. Period.

 

But this doesn't even scratch the surface of the interlocking issues involved. Like what about Ghislaine Maxwell? Can I possibly not think she's guilty? What about the inequities in our legal system based on financial status, race, sex, even politics? Can I possibly not question the system when a Maria Farmer initially went to the FBI to report her rape by Epstein and Maxwell back in 1996 and nothing happened? In fact, I have a hard time not thinking that the FBI, by not pursing a case back then, isn't actually complicit in all that Epstein and Maxwell were free to continue doing from that time forward. And when they finally acted, what about Epstein's absurd plea deal back in 2008? What is fair about 13 months with work release?

I don't know. Any of it. All of it. I just don't know.

 

For my son, in this specific situation, the answer to stay or go wasn't a battle. He says that he would leave because he got to know this man, and was able to form his own opinion as to the guy's character. He told me that he'd leave because, despite the presumption of innocent until proven guilty, the alleged behavior is not inconsistent with what College Boy knows of him.

And me? I know that for many this is a black and white issue, and I get that. I so want to be part of the solution, but I'm still struggling with carving out a little circle of grey.

 

Zoodle Side Salad        

                                                                                      ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 1/2 cups fresh zucchini spirals or a 10 oz frozen package

1/2 cup pignolis

1 medium carrot

3/4 cup mini herb marinate mozzarella cheese balls

3/4 cup grape tomatoes

1/3 cup olive oil

2 TBSP red wine vinegar

1 tsp garlic powder

1/2 tsp onion powder

2 tsp Italian seasoning

1/4 tsp pepper

1/2 tsp salt

Directions:
*Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

*Cook the zoodles until just barely soft. For fresh spirals, it will take about 1 1/2 minutes in the microwave. For frozen zoodles it will take about 3 1/2 minutes in the microwave. Once cooked, drain on a paper towel and immediately refrigerate in a bowl.

*Spread the pignolis onto a small baking tray (toaster oven size), and place in the oven. Mix after about 2 minutes, check after 2 more minutes, once they just barely start to brown, they're done. Remove from the tray and set aside to cool.

*Shred the carrot (I just use a potato peeler), cut the cheese balls and the grape tomatoes in half.

*Once the zoodles are cool, add the carrot, cheese, and tomatoes to the bowl.

*Whisk together the olive oil, red wine vinegar, garlic powder, onion powder, Italian seasoning, salt and pepper. Add to the bowl with the zoodles and gently mix together. Cover and refrigerate at least an hour, gently mixing now and then.

*To serve, sprinkle with the toasted pignoli nuts.

Easier Said: Relax Poetry

 

 

 

 

 

Last Friday of the month is for

Monthly Poetry Group to rhyme.

Diane and I take turns to pick,

"Relax," the theme this time.

 

As usual, today I'll try,

a poem to write . . . or fudge.

Whether I'm successful or not,

you get to be the judge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Easier Said

"Relax," said my wise mom to me,

"you worry way too much."

You always get it done, you know,

I help out in a clutch."

 

"Relax," said my first born son,

"some things you can't impact.

"Waiting for the sky to fall

won't stop it, that's a fact."

 

"Relax," said my younger boy,

"don't shake when I text or call."

But that's been my reaction since

his college second story fall . . .

 

"Relax," said Mr. Calm himself,

if dinner's not a win,

you'll try again another time,

I'll just bring take-out in.

 

 

Chicken Divan Sliders

and they came out great, btw

 

"Relax," said the doctor,

"you don't want to have a stroke."

But how can I relax when he's

about to prod and poke?

"Relax," I said to my own self,

"shut down that brain at night."

"Nope," my own mind answered back,

"No getting this relax thing right."

 

Relax is for the beach, if it's

something you all want me to do.

Build one right in my backyard.

I'll relax once you are through.

Before you go, check out Diane's poem at On the Border. 

 

Chicken Divan Sliders

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

 

NOTE: This recipe can easily be doubled for use in a 9 X 13 baking pan

Ingredients: 

9 slider rolls, preferably attached to each other

4 slices provolone cheese

2 TBSP butter, divided

1 1/2 cups cooked chicken

3/4 cups steamed broccoli florets

1 TBSP flour

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

1/4 tsp cayenne

1 cup milk

1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese

Directions:
*Grease an 8 X 8 square baking dish.

*Separate the rolls into 3 rows of 3, keeping them attached to each other wherever possible. Slice them in half, placing the bottoms into the baking dish and setting the tops aside. Cover the bottoms in the dish with the provolone cheese slices.

*Chop the chicken and the broccoli into small pieces. Set aside.

*Melt 1 TBSP of the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Whisk in the flour, salt, pepper, and cayenne and continue whisking for 1 minute as the butter browns and bubbles.

*Next, whisk the milk into the pan and whisk continually for about 5 minutes, until the mixture thickens.

*Remove from the heat, whisk in the parmesan cheese, mix in the chopped chicken and broccoli, and set aside while preheating the oven to 350 degrees.

*Spread the filling evenly onto the provolone cheese, then add the tops of the rolls, pressing down gently. Melt the remaining TBSP of butter and brush onto the tops of the rolls. 

*Cover with tin foil and bake for 10 minutes. Remove the foil and bake for about another 15 minutes or until the tops are brown and a little crispy.
*Slice into individual sandwiches to serve.

Return on Your Deposit

 

No deposit, no return has taken on a whole new meaning. Because apparently, in South Korea anyway, a whole new type of deposit can now bring a return. And best of all, it's a monetary return.

 

There's a whole new way to recycle, and this version has nothing to do with bottles and cans.

It seems, I learned from my good friend Twitter, that when the poop isn't hitting the fan, it could be hitting the bank account. A much more palatable (sorry) outcome, no?

 

Let me go back to the beginning. I was visiting Twitter, as I do most days, and was checking out the "what's happening" feature. They offer enticing little tidbits and, although many of the trending hashtags are nothing new, like the daily version of #MattGaetzIsAPervert (duh, who doesn't already know that?) or #MarjorieTaylorGreeneIsSoStupid (yeah, knew that one too) sometimes an item catches my attention. 

 

This time it was a news story that had me clicking:

 

 

 

Food and books in return for generating power naturally? I'd consider that my environmental doody duty. 

 
But I needed to know more. And the tweets from Insider Asia had some of the scoop on the poop:

 

 

Let me just say that I've been to South Korea. Sadly, it was before this whole deposit for currency thing came along. 'Cause if it meant a little extra spending money, I just might have been interested in taking a university course. A night class probably. After, you know, a big meal. If you're gonna do this, after all, you don't want to risk performance anxiety.

 

I do have a few questions, though. OK, more than a few. I'll spare you the more graphic ones like about how volume or viscosity might affect the size of the return. But there are also questions about logistics. Like do you have to be a student, or can anyone who's environmentally conscious contribute?

 

How quickly is the pay out of this Ggool currency? Can you only use it in that one store? Can you trade it on the stock market? Or is there maybe a Ggool brown black market for this type of green? 

 

What if I disagree with the amount I'm awarded, can I appeal? Is there an official turd review panel?    

 

Do they pass out free nose plugs at the door? After all, ordure can be difficult on those of us who are, shall we say, scent sensitive? Oh, and is there a time limit in there, or can you bring a magazine? Do you wait in line? Sign up for a time slot? And, a very important safety question, there are no matches allowed in the vicinity, right?

  

Now you might think that I couldn't possibly share a recipe after spending this whole post talking about poop. After all, the subject could very well put you off your feed (so to speak). 

 

But I am adding a recipe, and you should try it. Because chances are we aren't that far behind South Korea in their rather unorthodox innovation. And if they've proven anything, it's that in more ways than we all could have imagined, it appears that food really is fuel. Or produces fuel, with which we could buy food, to create more fuel, to buy more food . . .

Prosciutto Mozzarella Bites

 

Prosciutto Mozzarella Bites        
                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

6 oz thin sliced prosciutto

6 oz mini herb marinated mozzarella cheese balls 

1 tube crescent pastry sheet

 

OPT: Homemade Marinara for serving 

Directions:

*Preheat oven to 375 degrees and place a piece of tin foil onto the oven shelf where you'll put your muffin tins. Grease 24 mini muffin tin wells.

*Place 12 mini marinated mozzarella balls on a paper towel and cut each in half. Cut the prosciutto slices into 24 pieces. Wrap each prosciutto pieces around a mozzarella ball half.
*Unroll the tube of pastry dough to about an 8 X 12 rectangle. Cut into 24 pieces, about 2 inches by 2 inches.

*Place a prosciutto wrapped cheese ball onto each dough square. Using your hands, roll them into balls, making sure the prosciutto wrapped cheese is fully encased inside, then put one into each mini muffin tin well.

*Place the muffin tins on the tin foil in the oven (some of the mozzarella may ooze while baking) and bake for 15 minutes. Run a knife around the edges of the bites to pop out of the pans.

*OPT: serve with warm marinara for dipping.

Hopping on the Couch: Fly on the Wall

 

 Welcome to a monthly Fly on the Wall group post. Today 5 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.

Hubs walks into the kitchen and I'm clearly wincing.

 

Hubs: What's wrong?

Me: I went to pull the box of plastic wrap out of the drawer and somehow my fingers got under the top and I scraped them along those metal teeth.

Hubs: Ouch. Are your fingers bleeding?
Me: Yes, and it's very painful. Any advice?
Hubs: Did you use that antiseptic wash?
Me: Yes.

Hubs: Take some acetaminophen. 

Me: I did. Any other advice?
Hubs: Yeah, don't do that again.

Me (rolling my eyes): Well that puts a crimp in my plans for tomorrow . . . 

 

College Boy stops by and I ask him if he's staying for dinner. He says that he's really got a craving for pizza so I tell him I'll ask Hubs if he wants to get pizza tonight.

 

Hubs had been on a very low fat diet due to gallbladder issues but he had his gallbladder out last month. We're still eating healthier, but he's also been enjoying the foods he'd missed. I would make pizza for us, but I'd top them with vegetables, chicken sausage in place of his favorite pork sausage, was less cheese, and low fat cheeses only. It was good but definitely not the pizza we'd normally have.

Me: College Boy wants to know if you want to bring in pizza tonight.

Hubs (eyes actually, literally, lighting up): YES. I haven't had pizza in . . . well, I mean, you made us pizza, and it was really good, I really enjoyed it, you make great pizza . . .

Me (laughing): OK, you can stop stumbling over your words now. I'm actually impressed.

Hubs: Impressed?
Me: That was a first, normally it wouldn't even dawn on you that you might have insulted my pizza. 

Hubs: It wasn't your fault the pizza wasn't the best, it was the ingredients.

Me: My pizza wasn't the best?

Hubs (hurrying away): I think I'd better leave while I'm ahead.

Me: You're ahead?

 

I make quite a few texting errors, often with Hubs. Some end up being pretty funny, like a few I mentioned in last month's Fly on the Wall post. That seems to be continuing.

Hubs works one or two days a week at the office, the rest of the time he works from home. Whenever he goes into the office, he texts me to let me know when he's leaving and checks to see if I need anything.

Hubs: On my way home. What are you doing?

Me: I'm hopping on the couch.

Hubs: Why?
Me: I need to buy stuff.

Hubs: And hopping helps you, how?

Me: Oh jeez, not hopping, shopping.

Hubs: Good, there's less of a chance you'll end up in traction.

 

 

Along those same lines, I was posting a picture and description to Instagram (you follow me there, right?). When posting I always add relevant hashtags, some specific to that recipe and others that are more general.

I had added the specific hashtags to the post, then was deciding which general ones to add. I chose a few of them including #eat. Turns out, in my haste, I'd hit one wrong letter.

 

So yeah, instead of #food followed by #eat, I'd promoted my food post with #food #rat. 

 

Although, of all the letters I could have mistakenly typed, I'm not sure many of them would have been any better: bat, cat, fat . . .

I think poor Hubs now questions everything I say in a text. Our latest:

Hubs: Heading home.

Me: Aren't you going to ask what I'm doing?

Hubs: That doesn't always turn out well but OK, what are you doing?

Me: I'm baking.

Hubs: Really hoping there's a cake involved, but based on your texting history I have to ask, are you raking? Faking? Barking? Basting?

Me: Stay in your lane, buddy, being a smart ass is my job.

Hubs: Does this mean there actually is a cake?

Yes, there actually was a cake.

Tiramisu Poke Cake

Hubs: You look perplexed.

Me: I can't remember what I was just about to do.

Hubs: That's so frustrating. When you figure it out, let me know.

Me: Let you know? Are you that interested in what I'd forgotten I wanted to do?
Hubs: Well, honestly, chances are whatever it is could be something I'd forgotten I wanted to do too.

We're quite a pair, Hubs and I.

I was about to do the dishes when I remembered that I wanted to check to see how much ground coffee was left and whether I needed to grind more beans. When I pulled the can out of the fridge, I realized I'd somehow put it in the fridge upside down. The cover popped off and the ground beans (I did have plenty, btw, not so much any more) spilled all over the floor. Of course, they did. Hubs was in the next room. Obviously I didn't want him to come in and step on the mess.

Me: DON'T come in the kitchen.

So, I guess in the spirit of reminding me what it was like living with little boys all of those years, Hubs does the opposite of what I said and walked into the kitchen.

Hubs (lifting up his bare feet): Oh, that's gritty, what am I walking on?
Me: Coffee.

Hubs: What's it doing on the floor?

Me: I dropped it, and I specifically told you not to come in here.

Hubs: Well, I wanted to see what was going on, what I could do to help.

Me: In that case, DON'T do the dishes.

Didn't work, but I get points for trying.

We had been watching the Olympics when Hubs decided that he could be an Olympian.

 

Hubs: I should have tried out or the Olympics.

Me: Really, I'm not sure couch potato is a sport.

Hubs: Rowing.

Me: Seriously, you think you could row in unison with 7 other people in the broiling sun?
Hubs: No, but I could be the yeller.

Me: The yeller? Oh, the coxswain?
Hubs: I've got the right equipment.

Me: Are you attempting a dirty joke?
Hubs: No, I was talking about my voice. What did you think I meant.

I'm certain you need more than a voice, and I'm pretty sure he knows that, but I decided it might be best to fold my cards and walk away at this point.

Although I'd go all in on a bet that he actually was attempting a dirty joke.

I've been having a bit of an issue with captcha on my friends' blogs. I love reading blogs, seeing what others have to share, what's been going on in their lives. 

But a fly on the wall this past month would have heard me sitting alone, reading and swearing under my breath as I'm sure captcha is targeting me.

I don't like proving I'm human other than just checking a box, but these captchas are either a picture broken up into boxes or a group of individual boxes. It require me to click all of the boxes with, for example, a bicycle in it before it. If I do it correctly, I get to check that box proving I'm human. 

First, I went to a blog with captcha where I had to click all the boxes with fire hydrants, but every time a checked a box, rather than staying checked, a new box would appear in it's place. Ten hours later (or so it seemed), captcha decided I knew my fire hydrants sufficiently and let me leave a comment.

Next, I went to a blog with captcha that required me to check all of the boxes with tractors. Let me just say that I know what a tractor looks like, and there were no tractors in any of those boxes.

Another day, I went to a blog and it required me to check the boxes with traffic lights, which I did. Instead of allowing me to check the "human" box, I guess it decided that was too easy, so it gave me a second assignment, to check all of the boxes with cars. Done. Another page, check all of the boxes with bicycles. OK, now I'm getting frustrated, but I'm too far in at this point. Have I not proven I'm human yet? Nope, apparently I'd have to find all of the crosswalks in another group of boxes and then busses in another.

At this point, I'd say I've proven I'm superhuman. In patience, anyway.

The Red Sox had been doing great, in first place most of the season and I was thrilled. I watched the games on TV whenever they showed them in my area.

Then, once everyone's hopes were up, at the beginning of this month they started losing game after game.

Hubs: The Red Sox are on TV tonight.

Me: I don't care.

Hubs: Since when?
Me: I hate the Red Sox.

Hubs: You love the Red Sox.

Me: Not any more, they're losing every game.

Hubs: Come on now, you can't be a fair weather fan.

Me: Oh yeah, watch me.

Later, I was texting with PurDude. We check in with each other daily, ending with saying "love you."

PurDude: Love you, ma.

Me: Love you, which is more than I can say about the Red Sox . . .

 

 

 

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

Never Ever Give Up Hope  

Menopausal Mother 

Wandering Web Designer 

What TF Sarah

Tiramisu Poke Cake

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
1 tsp instant coffee granules

1/4 cup espresso baking chips

1 box white cake mix

3 eggs

1 cup water

1/3 cup oil

1 box (3.9 oz) chocolate pudding mix

1/2 cup milk

1/2 cup coffee liqueur

1 cup mascarpone cheese

3/4 cup heavy cream

2 TBSP powdered sugar

1 TBSP powdered sugar

2 tsp baking cocoa

Directions:
*Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour a 9 X 13 baking pan.

*In a food processor or clean coffee grinder, chop the coffee granules and baking chips to crumbs. Set aside.

*Mix together the cake mix, eggs, water, and oil. Beat for 2 minutes, then mix in the coffee granules/espresso baking chip crumbs. Pour evenly into the prepared pan and bake for about 25 minutes, until the center of the top springs back to the touch. Remove from the oven. Allow to start to cool for 1/2 hour.

*Whisk the chocolate pudding mix. milk, and coffee liqueur vigorously until well blended. Whisk in the mascarpone cheese.

*Using the rounded bottom of a wooden spoon, poke about 30 holes in the cake, making sure not to press all the way down to the bottom. 

*Remove 1 cup of the pudding mixture and pipe into the holes on the cake. Spread the rest of this 1 cup of pudding mixture in a thin layer evenly over the top. Refrigerate the cake for 15 minutes. Cover the remaining pudding mixture and set aside.

*After 15 minutes, beat the heavy cream with 2 TBSP powdered sugar until stiff peaks hold. Fold into the remaining pudding mix and spread evenly over the top of the cake.

*Mix together the remaining powdered sugar and baking cocoa. Sprinkle over the top of the cake. Store the cake in the refrigerator.