It's the Bakers

 

  

It's the bakers.

 

I already knew it, had known it for quite some time. 

 

There was a school shooting in Texas a week ago. Correction: yet another school shooting, this one in Texas. More than 20 children, ending their school year, had their lives ended instead.

And it's the fault of the bakers.

I, like all human beings, was heartbroken by not just this latest school shooting, but that we'd done nothing, as a country, since the last one. And the one before that. And the one before that.

I turned on the news to hear Kellyanne Conway saying that people are in mourning, it isn't the time to talk about change. Ted Cruz skirted the issue with deflection, Greg Abbott used the tragedy as a media opportunity, and Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton wants to arm teachers.

All of this at a time when the Republican stacked supreme court indicated it will overturn women's right to choose, protected by Roe v. Wade. And Republican politicians everywhere are responding with their personal religious convictions, that they are pro-life, that they have a responsibility to protect the unborn, even at the cost of the life of the mother.

Pro-life? What about all of these children who have died in public schools? Continue to die in public schools? Screw the personal religious beliefs, the hell with the political posturing. If you're pro-life, save lives.

I'd had enough, and I posted this on social media:

 

There was a discussion started on my FB page. Most all of the comments were in line with my personal beliefs. But one was not. One woman, apparently from Texas, had something different to say.

 

I'm not going to quote her completely as I don't have her permission, but I'm going to characterize what she said. You can go to the Baking In A Tornado FB page and read the thread for the exact content. 

She stated that she knew her opinion would be unpopular, but asked me to just think about what she has to say. She started off with two over used arguments, that it is wrong to think that guns kill people, they don't, and that if the government tries to take peoples' guns away, criminals would certainly not surrender theirs, leaving only criminals with guns.

She went on to say that her governor (Abbott, of Texas) has a genius idea, to arm teachers. A teacher with a gun at least has the opportunity to try to protect herself and her students. She acknowledged that teachers don't want to kill a child (the Robb elementary school shooter was 18), but would either successfully defend her students or die a hero, in Texas or any other red state, anyway.

In conclusion, she said that she has pit bulls, and a .45. If someone breaks into her home, ignoring the dogs, she "will not ask them to sit down for coffee and cake until the police arrive," she'll shoot to kill. So arming teachers is a genius idea, and if you disagree, we should take guns away from presidential security details, jewelry stores, courtrooms.

There's a lot to unpack here. So much made me angry, mostly the disinformation. But a lot here gave me hope too. This woman was making her points. She was not angry, she was not insulting or disrespectful in any way, she had something to say and she took the time to say it.

My response: 

Thank you for your comments and for sharing your perspective.

 

First, your entire premise is just completely false. No one is talking about taking away all guns from law abiding citizens who have purchased them legally, that is not what those of us who want limitations, licensing, and background checks are saying.

 

Second, I think we ask enough of our teachers. What Texas is recommending is an unfair burden on them, they are not trained police officers and they didn't go into teaching to be both teachers an police officers. I think many talented teachers would leave the field they love.

 

Third, at the recent supermarket shooting in NY, a trained retired police officer was there, he shot the perpetrator more than once, but the guy was wearing Kevlar, so he did not die and killed the officer. The shooter yesterday was wearing a bullet prof vest too.

 

I firmly believe that NOT taking guns away from law abiding citizens, but reforming our laws and closing loopholes allowing weapons to be purchased other than in gun stores, in order to be as responsible as possible about who can have guns, and what guns, and Kevlar as well, is the only answer. Children's lives have to matter more than how we deal with gun ownership, under our current system (or lack thereof), they don't.

Her: 

"This absolutely makes sense," but she went on to say that she still believes teachers should be equipped with guns, or there should be security outside every school.

Me:
Although we have different viewpoints, I think we (you and I) are proof that there can be rational conversation and common sense solutions. If our politicians were willing and able to talk, just talk like we are, without misrepresenting what the other perspective is, if they were willing to admit that neither "side" will win or lose, but a common sense compromise can be reached and will actually protect our children, we'd all be better off.

Her:
"100%. It's all about the babies. All about the voiceless."

Some of the most important information she imparted was where she started: first, that she believes that we don't understand the concept that guns don't kill people, people do. Second, that we want the government to take all guns away from all people.

You cannot compromise, nor even negotiate, if there cannot first be clear understanding of both viewpoints. If we're going to bake together, we need to know, cookies or cake?

 

I know that it's a daunting task to rid each other of our misconceptions, and I know that has to happen, but not initially. Gun control, gun reform, initially starts on capitol hill. And everyone there already knows what the truth is, what each side of the issue does and doesn't believe.

And we'll never get anything accomplished, even if we agree on cake, if we each come to the table with a cake. We need to come with ingredients, because, (and I know I don't need to explain negotiating to you), we're not going to end up with my cake, or with yours.

 

But we can end up with cake.

Summer Citrus Cake

 

If two strangers on FB, with completely different frames of reference, viewpoints, and stances, can have a civil, respectful conversation, agree as to what the outcome needs to be, make concessions in some places and solidify our stance in others, politicians, supposedly professional negotiators, must be willing to come to the table.

Especially politicians who claim to be pro-life. If you're pro-life, get your ass to the table, discuss common sense gun control laws, and save lives.

It has been 23 years since 13 died at Columbine High School. 

 

Ten years since the 28 deaths at Sandy Hook Elementary School.

 

Four years since 17 died at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland.

There have been 27 school shootings this year. It's only May.

And you know what? A majority of Americans (over 80%), even Republicans, support expanded background checks, over 60% of Americans endorse an assault weapon ban.

 

Cake? Someone get me the tea and a ticket back to my home in Boston, because what's going on in our government is taxation without representation.

 

Politicians need to see the light. Ideally, politicians need to be the light. For now, I could live with them just taking a step towards the light. 

 

Because in the darkness, there are dead children. 

  

I remain convinced of this: 

 

When it comes to gun reform and the safety of our children, it's not the cake. It's not the recipe, it's not the ingredients. It's the bakers.

 

Summer Citrus Cake        

                                                                                      ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
1 box lemon cake mix

1 (.1 oz) packet limeade drink mix powder

1 box (3 oz) orange jello

4 eggs

1 cup water

1/2 cup oil

1/4 cup lime yogurt

1/2 tsp lemon zest

1/2 tsp lime zest

1/2 tsp orange zest

2/3 cup powdered sugar

2 TBSP orange juice, lime juice, or lemon juice

Directions:
*Grease and flour a bundt pan. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

*In a large mixing bowl, mix together the cake mix, limeade powder, and jello powder. Add the eggs, water, oil, orange zest, lime yogurt, lime zest, and lemon zest, and beat for 2 minutes.

*Pour evenly into the bundt pan. Bake until the center springs back to the touch, 35 to 40 minutes. 

*Cool cake on the counter for 10 minutes, run a knife around the edges, remove from the pan, and cool completely.

*Whisk together the powdered sugar and citrus juice of your choice. Drizzle over the cooled cake.

Over Wearing Underwear: Monthly Poetry

 

 

 

 

Last Friday of the month is for

Monthly Poetry Group to rhyme.

Diane, Mimi, and I take turns,

"Underwear" is 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.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Over Wearing Underwear

Underwear's changed quite a bit,

over time, from then to now.

Corsets pinching at the waist,

are no longer considered high brow.

Granny pants were once the norm,

now we wouldn't be caught dead.

It's French cut, bikinis, g-strings,

and sayings . . . where they shouldn't be read.

Oh, the pressure to get it right,

we've all been mommy-harassed,

should we get into an accident,

don't by underwear, be embarrassed.

Then came a perplexing thing,

underwear's become outerwear?

Corsets came back into style,

worn, exposed, without a care.

This I have to ask, though,

'cause to me it has to matter,

what happens when you're cooking and,

those hot things . . . you know . . . splatter?

 

 

Apple Cinnamon French Toast Sandwich

Lets not forget the men folk,

tidy whitey, boxers, even thong?

How many options do they need?

And where did we go wrong?

They too show way too much it seems,

"cool" young men prefer to wear,

pants down below their buttocks,

exposing what they wear . . . down there.

Think, though, 'fore we judge today,

those we consider over exposed,

of fabled emperor who'd best have worn,

underwear with his "new clothes."

 

Before you go, stop by these blogs for more Collections poetry:

 

On the Border

Messymimi's Meanderings

 

 

 

Apple Cinnamon French Toast Sandwich       

                                                                                      ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients (makes 2 sandwiches): 

2 eggs

2 TBSP milk

2 TBSP butter

4 slices cinnamon bread

2 TBSP cookie butter

1 apple, peeled, cored, thinly sliced

2 slices sharp cheddar cheese 

 

OPT: maple syrup for serving

 

Directions:
*Whisk the eggs and milk together in a shallow bowl.

*Heat 1 TBSP butter in a large skillet over medium heat until hot. Dip 2 slices of cinnamon bread in the egg mixture, then add to the pan. Cook until the bottom starts to brown. 

*Remove one piece of the bread from the pan. Flip the other piece over, top with 1 slice of sharp cheddar and 1/2 of the apple slices.
*Spread 1 TBSP cookie butter onto the browned side of the bread you'd removed from the pan. Place this on top of the apple slices in the pan, uncooked side up.

*Cook until the bottom browns. Flip the sandwich over, and cook until the other side browns, you may need to turn the temperature down a bit.

*Remove from the pan, keep warm, and repeat to make the second sandwich. 

*OPT: serve with maple syrup.

 

 

The Nightmare Probability

  

 

 

I will not be sleeping in my bed tonight. Quite possibly never again. 

No, I'm not mad at Hubs. If so, we all know that he'd be the one not sleeping in the bed tonight.

 

Before I explain what happened last night, let me tell you of a previous experience I had, many years ago, back when Hubs and I had just moved into an apartment in Connecticut. 

 

Hubs was at work. I was unpacking boxes when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. There, in the middle of the room was a spider. Now I don't like spiders in general, but this was a huge, grey, long legged, gargantuan spider, the size of which I'd never seen. I was terrified. There was no way I was touching that thing, I certainly wasn't going to try to squish something that huge {{gag}}, maybe I could put a plastic container over it, a paperweight on the container and let Hubs deal with it.

 

That was the plan.

 

I grabbed a container, and tried to convince myself to get anywhere near the monster. That's when it happened. It started to run, I threw the container at it and I started to run. I ended up standing on the arm of the couch. But where did it end up?

 

Three hours later, Hubs came home and there I was, standing on the arm of the couch, eyes the size of saucers, rotating and scanning the room like a human periscope.

 

Hubs checked that house, top to bottom, more than once. I stayed right where I was, micromanaging "pick up the couch, look under the rug." When he'd finally given up, he told me it had probably gotten out the sliding door.

 

Probably?

 

Probably?

 

I probably wouldn't end up living in the Midwest.

I probably wouldn't get pregnant in the early years of IVF.

I probably wouldn't have an FBI file.

I probably wouldn't have a kid light my car on fire.

I probably . . .

Not that I knew then all of the improbably probabilities I be living later on, but one thing I knew right then and there was that, in that particular moment, I wouldn't be doing "probably."

 

Hell-to-the-NO!

 

What I also knew is that I probably (more than probably) wouldn't, in the forseeable future, be in the laundry room, reaching into the washing machine. I wouldn't be in the kitchen reaching into cabinets. 

 

I'd be in the den. Standing on the couch. In perpetuity. Or at least for the life span of a gargantuan spider.

 

 

Garlic Ranch Orzo

 

Fast forward to last night. Or I should say this morning. It was actually about 5:30 am, I had been asleep when I suddenly heard fast galloping across my ceiling. Yes, it was that loud. I looked up and saw an enormous beetle, scurrying across the ceiling from the middle of the room, to over my bed. 

Terrified, I jumped out of bed and turned on the light. I was shaking, my heart beating a mile a minute. I looked up at the ceiling and saw nothing. Hubs, famous for sleeping through tornado sirens, was sleeping away.

 

 

 

I woke him up and we checked the ceiling again. Nothing. There's a vent there but it was closed, and honestly, this thing would have to lose about 20 pounds to fit in it anyway. We climbed up and checked behind the headboard. Nothing. We used flashlights to check under the bed. Nothing. 

Hubs was convinced I'd just heard something outside and scared myself awake, but it didn't matter, I was up. For the day. Maybe forever.

 

And face it, there's just no way I'm going back into that room, shut off the lights, and do anything other than picture an enormous beetle galloping its way towards my face. No, I'm going to have to turn my bedroom over to that thing.

 

Even though I've spent the better part of the day convincing myself that it had probably just been a nightmare.

Probably.

Garlic Ranch Orzo

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 1/4 cups chicken broth

1/2 cup ranch dressing

2 TBSP grated parmesan cheese

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

1 TBSP dried parsley 

2 TBSP butter

1 cup orzo

3 cloves garlic, minced

 

Directions:
*Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease an 8 X 8 baking dish.

*Whisk together the chicken broth, ranch dressing, parmesan cheese, salt, pepper, and parsley in a large bowl. Set aside.

*In a skillet over medium heat, melt the butter. Once hot, add the orzo and garlic to the pan. Cook, stirring, for about 3 minutes, until the orzo starts to brown.

*Add the orzo to the bowl and mix. Pour into the prepared baking dish and cover tightly. Bake for 40 minutes. Uncover carefully, and stir.

Using Words and Changing Names: Fly on the Wall

 

  

Welcome to a monthly Fly on the Wall group post. Today 3 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.

Just after his birthday, PurDude and a bunch of his high school friends were meeting up in NY city. I'm always nervous on travel days, so he knows to keep in touch with me along the way so I know where he is. The day before he left, I asked him what time his flight left, and he said he didn't remember exactly, but that it was early.

 

The next morning I started watching for his texts from the time I woke up. Finally, at 11:30am, I heard from him:

PurDude: Just leaving for the airport now.

Me: Now? One of us needs to look up the word "early" in the dictionary.

 

 

When he got back from NY, he called me to fill me in on his trip. He'd had fun, visited all the places I'd hoped he'd see, celebrated his birthday, saw a play, and then, of course, I wanted to know what he'd eaten.

Me: So did you go to some interesting restaurants.

PurDude: Mostly all of our meals were $1 pizza slices.
Me: What? Doesn't sound to me like you took advantage of the diverse NYC culinary experience.

PurDude: Are you kidding? $1 pizza slices IS the NYC diverse culinary experience.

 

Looks like one of us also needs to look up the words "diverse culinary experience" in the dictionary.

On Monday night I was trying to figure out what to defrost for Tuesday's dinner.

Hubs: What are you thinking?

Me: I'm thinking I'll marinate some jerk chicken to cook on the grill.

Hubs: Sounds good. Should be a warm, sunny day, too.

Now if you know me at all, you know that it rains every time I use the grill.

On Tuesday, Hubs was right, it was sunny. I walked out the slider to put the chicken on the grill and felt something on my head. I freaked out, came back in the house, and noticed a few rain drops on the deck.

Me: Phew!

Hubs: Phew?

Me: It's sunny out, but it's raining.

Hubs: And you're happy about cooking in the rain? What is this, opposite day?
Me: Well, considering what I thought had fallen out of the sky and plopped onto my head, yeah, I'm pretty happy about that.

 

I was sitting on the couch, drinking my coffee one morning when Hubs came up behind me and looked over my shoulder to see what I was doing:

Hubs: What the hell?

Me: What?
Hubs: Did you really submit that as a guess?

 

Me: What? It's a word . . .

 

 

It's a good thing he wasn't looking over my shoulder later in the week. Because there were way too many options that would work for this one:

And I was just going to have to try them all!

 

 

 

I do try to give the names I choose for my recipes some thought. Apparently I was way off my game this time.

Hubs (looking over my shoulder): What is that?
Me: I'm writing up a new recipe.

Hubs: Do you want to rethink that name?

Me: Why?

Hubs: Well, Greek Stuffed Portobellos sounds like you stuffed your mushrooms with a bunch of Greek people.

 

Not really what I was going for, I changed the name.

 

Stuffed Greek Portobellos

Speaking of not what I was going for with a name, and of making changes, I almost changed the name of one of my writing challenges in a most unfortunate way.

I was about to publish the Word Counters challenge just a few days ago, when I {{phew}} took one more look at the title of the post. I'd dropped a letter. In fact, a very important letter. It read: 

Slinging Slang: Word Cunters

Holy crap, how do you go about apologizing to your friends after a mistake like that?

 

 

Hubs came up from the man cave with his cell phone and handed it to me, he'd been talking to PurDude. As I started talking, Hubs headed back to the man cave, then came back up to tell me that when I was done, not to hang up, he just remembered something he wanted to ask PurDude.

 

I finished talking and went downstairs. 

 

Me (handing the phone to Hubs): It took me a long time, but I finally convinced him to talk to you again.

 

And I swear, I could hear my son rolling his eyes, all the way in Colorado

 
 

I was doing some prep work in the kitchen and had been cutting onions. My eyes were red and weepy when I went into the den and turned on the TV.

 

College Boy: That's it, to the nursing home for you. 

Me: What are you talking about?
College Boy: You've officially met the criteria for being committed to a nursing home.

Me: What criteria?
College Boy: What you're doing, sitting in front of the TV crying at Hallmark movies or McDonald's commercials.

Me: I'm not crying at the TV, I was just cutting onions.

College Boy: Tell it to the judge.

 

 

 College Boy was going to need a ride to and from work last Wednesday. Hubs had taken him there before and knew where it was. On this particular day, Hubs could take him to work, but had a late meeting and couldn't pick him up.

 

I said I'd pick him up, they just had to let me know how to get there. I don't know how to use the GPS in my car, and with the VPN on my cell phone, Google Maps tries to give me directions from 3 states away.

 

So College Boy gives me simple directions: go past Walmart, go under the highway, then take the first right. At the stop sign take a left, at the next stop sign take a right. The building is on the left.

 

Pretty simple directions, no problem. Well, in my mind anyway. All week long Hubs and College Boy were expounding on the directions. 

 

Hubs: You go under the highway, then up a hill.

College Boy: There's a light there where you take a right.

Hubs: And a car dealership on your left.

College Boy: And the building is the second one on the left.

Hubs: Maybe that morning you should take him to work so he can show you the way.

 

It went on and on like that all week. I kept reassuring them that I'd have no problem finding it. 

 

Tuesday night, Hubs comes home and lets us know that his appointment the next afternoon had been postponed, he'd pick up College Boy on his way home from work.

 

So, apparently, after my family having spent an entire week explicitly mapping out the entire 4 mile route inch by excruciating inch, I no longer needed to know how to get there at all.

 

 

 

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

Menopausal Mother 

The Diary of an Alzheimer's Caregiver

 

Stuffed Greek Portobellos

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
4 portobello mushrooms, cleaned, stump removed

1/4 cup Greek dressing

1 TBSP olive oil

1/4 cup TBSP chopped onion 

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 cup fresh spinach, cleaned

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

8 - 10 large grape tomatoes, quartered

4 oz crumbled feta cheese

 

Directions:
*Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Lightly grease a 9 X 13 baking pan.

*Brush the Greek dressing onto the bottom (rounded) sides of the mushrooms. Place them into the baking pan, gills side up.

*Heat the olive oil in a large saute pan at medium heat. Once the olive oil is hot, add the onion and the garlic. Cook, stirring for about 3 minutes, until the onions start to soften. Add the spinach, salt, and pepper, and continue to cook and stir until the spinach wilts. Remove the pan from the heat. Mix in the tomatoes and feta.

*Spoon the spinach mixture into the mushroom caps. Bake for 20 minutes.