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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Hubs: No, but I could be the yeller.
Me: The yeller? Oh, the coxswain?
Hubs: I've got the right equipment.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
Never Ever Give Up Hope
What TF Sarah
Tiramisu Poke Cake
Tiramisu Poke Cake
©www.BakingInATornado.com
Ingredients:
1 tsp instant coffee granules
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.
*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.
I hate those Captcha things---such a pain. Loved the #food #rat comment, LOL.
ReplyDeleteYes, those captcha things are driving me nuts, but I always have to go through them because I'm invested, having already read the post and made my comment . . . can't let that comment just go to waste.
DeleteI had visions of you hopping on the couch. And yeah, captcha sucks especially when you are in a hurry. My favorite dessert is Tiramisu - this looks like an interesting twist
ReplyDeleteDid you also picture me ending up in traction?
DeleteThose captchas are such pains and sometimes they appear even if you don't have your blog set to require them. Mine doesn't. Maybe it's like a random audit of some kind? I hate when that happens. If one takes me more than two tries, I give up, and it's a shame. Alana ramblinwitham.blogspot.com
ReplyDeleteIt really is a shame since you've tried to leave a comment, but I can understand how, at some point, you feel like you've just had enough.
DeleteI find those food wrap containers infinitely more efficient at slicing skin than they are at actual...you know...wrap. I'm going to try your reverse psychology on Husby. I'll let you know how it goes.
ReplyDeleteI HATE CAPTCHAS!
Ha, hope it works out for you!
DeletePizza just isn't pizza without a sprinkling of regular cheese.
ReplyDeleteI agree, so glad to be back to making pizza the way we love it.
DeleteReading the title maade me thiink of Leo who was always jumping on the lounge
ReplyDeleteCaptchas suck
Yeah, I think all kids go through that phase.
DeleteWhile i've tried to set my blog to not require the captcha, i am not sure it helps. Sometimes blogger has a mind of its own.
ReplyDeleteLove your fly on the wall posts!
Most of my readers tell me they look forward to this monthly post. And they're fun to write too.
DeleteI remember when my gallbladder was messed up. ALLLL my favorite foods were greasy. lol
ReplyDeleteCaptchas are the worst!
Finally...Go Rays!
OMG, that last comment . . . you stabbed me in the heart.
DeleteI got to love that 'Don't do that again' from your hubs. This is an improv move, calling it out.
ReplyDeleteI didn't know that about improv.
DeleteHopping at the couch, Lol, I saw you in my mind's eye jumping up and down a checkered couch :)
ReplyDeleteCaptchas are a pain in the ... I never give up, but as my vision is bad, I often have to click through 4 or 5 sets of pictures. I also have my blog captcha-free as far as humanly possible, but Blogger obviously is on a robot-hunt for the moment being :(
To make me happy Blogger could pretty please remove the Sign out button as well. I cannot count the number of times I clicked that one instead of Publish when commenting. Sigh.
I've never made the "sign out button" mistake, hope I never do, that has to be frustrating.
DeleteEvery year hubby gets his hopes up about the Cincinnati Reds. I just shake my head. They are never going to win they were cursed by Marge Schott their old owner! They wouldn't let her smoke at her own team games so she put a curse on them and they haven't won anything since! Never mess with a pissed off woman!
ReplyDeleteYeah, that woman is hell on wheels for sure.
Delete