Carpet, Coffee, and Kale: 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! 

Hubs is a bit of a dinosaur. Among many other things, he's always worn a watch, and he still does. Not necessary since his cell phone . . . you know . . . will tell him the time, but whatever.

I've also mentioned that he tends to think very differently than I do, so a lot of what he says, opposite of how I'd think through whatever the circumstance may be, doesn't surprise me. Until yesterday:

Hubs: I need to buy a new watch for my battery.

Me: That's an interesting way of remedying the situation. Not exactly frugal, but if it makes you happy . . .

Two things I've mentioned before: first is that I often share here the (mostly) funny things I text due to either my cell phone's text correction (I need to figure out how to turn that off), or, well, operator error. My history dictates I should check texts before I send them, but I'm usually in a rush.

Second is that PurDude and I text every day, we have since he moved to Boulder. He checks in, I tell him a few things that are going on around here, he usually gives me a one-word answer, then ends with "love you ma." I either say "love and miss you," or "love you, honey."

Yesterday, the conversation ended a little differently.

PurDude: Love you, ma.

Me: Love you, horny.

Ah, yeah, I'm not too embarrassed.

One of the few things I dislike about my house is the carpet. The wood floors I love, but the carpet is not what I’d choose. Most of it is white, which doesn’t work well with young kids, as we’d had when we moved in. But the carpet in the den is the worst.

I had really thought I’d end up replacing it, but something else always seemed to come up. Like completely furnishing the place, since I sold my last house furnished at the request of the buyer, and you know, kids . . . college . . . life . . . 

I bought a beautiful, large, Persian hand-made rug, so some of the carpet is covered, but the rest is a constant frustration. It’s textured. And speckled. I’ll be walking to another room and think I see a bug, or a bit of food, or part of a leaf from outdoors. I stop, bend down to look and no, a dark carpet speckle.

I was pointing it out to a new neighbor, and it turns out she’d sold carpet in the past. she told me it was a fairly expensive carpet, and when she’d sold something like this, she’d always mention that people love it because the speckles of dark color are like camouflage, it hides dirt.

And I have to say, I could never sell carpet. Because I couldn’t explain as a selling point to some poor customer that you can’t tell when it’s dirty, because it always looks dirty. 

Not with a straight face, anyway.

FB is often suggesting people I should friend or groups I should join. They're often pretty arbitrary, leaving me wondering where they come up with these recommendations.

This morning, they took me by surprise. Their recommendation was for a group I should join called Wacky Widows.

And although I bet it's a fun and supportive group, I wonder whose job it will be to tell my husband . . .

We were watching a Celtics game when, at half time, they cut to the studio. One host was wishing another a happy birthday. The desk was covered with Kale, a birthday present.

Me: Don't ever get me Kale for my birthday.

Hubs: OK.

Me: Will you remember?

Hubs: Yes, since I don't know what it is.

Me: But you could bake me a loaf of Clementine Blueberry Bread.

Hubs: You've got a better chance of getting a bunch of Kale.

Clementine Blueberry Bread

Hubs had some errands to do and decided to take my car as I needed gas and he could stop on the way home. About an hour later, I hear screeching sounds coming from the garage. I go out the door and see my car sitting in the garage, alarm going off, all the lights flashing, and Hubs sitting in the driver's seat looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

Me (yelling over the noise): What are you doing?

Hubs: Trying to shut this off.

Me: How did you turn it on?
Hubs: I don't know.

He reaches for the Audi owner's manual, I head in to check out YouTube. After a few minutes, I hear it shut off.

Me: How did you do that?

Hubs: I don't know, it just stopped.

Hubs needs a new car, and I'm thinking maybe we should trade his in for a tricycle. 

 

Tuesday evening I noticed that the laundry chute was getting pretty full, so I guess laundry was on the agenda for the next morning. I decided to collect and do all of the towels too.

Me: I'm doing laundry tomorrow, I'll do a load of towels as well.

Hubs: Should I send my towels down in the morning after I shower?
Me: It doesn't matter, I can get them when I go up to shower.

Hubs: That will work. There's like a 50/50 chance I'll remember anyway.

Me (rolling my eyes): More like a 20% chance.

Hubs: Are you insulting me?
Me: No, but it doesn't matter.

Hubs: It doesn't matter if you insult me?
Me: No, after all, there's like a 20% chance you'll remember it tomorrow . . .

I still have a coffeemaker, don't use those single cup makers because that's just not how I drink my coffee. I set up the coffee maker the night before and put out mugs for Hubs and I.

I don't drink an entire mug of coffee at a time, I pour myself a cup and sit down on the couch to play my word games. As the coffee starts to cool down, or as I drink it most of the way down, I just go fill it the rest of the way up.

Hubs goes into the office, usually twice a week. On those days I put out a travel mug for him. But he will sometimes forget to fill and take it. So, I decided to remind him.

That morning, I reminded him and that night he came in, handed me the mail and his mug, and turned to go change his clothes. The mug, though, didn't feel empty. I go to the sink and pour out an entire mug of coffee. Hubs sees me at the sink with a perplexed look on my face.

Hubs: It's your fault.

Me: What is?

Hubs: The full mug of coffee.

Me: How is that my fault.

Hubs: You reminded me to take it in the car with me.

Me: Yeah, and . . .

Hubs: You didn't remind me to take it out of the car and into work with me.

And this, my friends, is proof positive that the brain does not function properly before coffee.

Who are you, really?

It's difficult having the name Karen lately, I'm guessing you can figure out why.

When people use the name as an insult, I mostly ignore it. But when a social media post is specifically from someone touting how kind and compassionate and pro this and that they are, that just ticks too many of my boxes. 

This recently happened on threads, a post about how humanitarian, caring, empathetic and the opposite of Karen's (yes, they used an apostrophe for a plural, so clearly a brain surgeon) this person claims to be. I responded that using a name that many good people share as an insult is not caring and empathetic, it's bullying.

And wow, did I get bashed. People responded telling me to stfu, that I should go cry somewhere else, that I'm the reason the name Karen is used that way . . .

So, if this is humanitarian, caring, empathetic, and compassionate, I wonder what cruel and hateful looks like to these people (all of whom I blocked, of course).

Maybe I should share this with them:

And who I am. Really.

Hubs had some work he needed to get done, and as well as a few things I'd put on his list that needed done around the house.

I had a load of laundry to do, dishwasher to run, dinner to prep, and grocery list to finish. 

We both got our lists completed and were finally settling down to watch TV, this night there was another Celtics game on and we were looking forward to watching.

But 2 minutes in, and there was a problem.

Me: I'm not going to be able to watch this game.

Hubs: What? We've been looking forward to this all day.

Me: I know.

Hubs: So what do you mean you can't watch.

Me: Did you see White?
Hubs: Yeah, I saw him, he's a starter.

Me: But did you see the back of his shirt?
Hubs: The back of his shirt? 

Me: Yes, his tag is sticking up out of the back of his shirt. And that's just going to drive me nuts.

Hubs (rolling his eyes): You're kidding, right?

Oh, how I wish I were.

 

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

Menopausal Mother 

On the Border

Clementine Blueberry Bread

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 TBSP sugar

1/2 tsp cinnamon

2 1/2 cups plus 1 TBSP flour, divided

1 cup sugar

1 tsp salt

1 TBSP baking powder

1 1/4 cups milk

1/2 cup oil

1/2 tsp vanilla

1/4 cup sour cream

2 eggs

1 cup blueberries

2 clementines

OPT: 5 TBSP powdered sugarn and 2 tsp orange juice

Directions:

*Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a loaf pan, mix 1 TBSP of the sugar with the cinnamon and dust a loaf pan with this mixture.

*Place 2 1/2 cups of the flour, the remaining sugar, salt, and baking pwder in a large bowl and whisk togethter. Add the milk, oil, vanilla, sour cream, and eggs. Mix until incorporated.

*Peel the clementines and separate into sections. Set aside 5 sections for the top, and chop the rest.

*Set aside 5 or 6 blueberries. Toss the remaining blueberries with the remaining 1 TBSP flour. Fold into the dough along with the chopped clementines.

*Spread the dough evenly into the loaf pan. Top with the reserved blueberries and clementine segments. Bake for 60 - 65 minutes, until the top springs back to the touch.

*Cool in the pan for 10 minutes. Run a knife around the edges, remove, and cool completely.

*OPT: whisk together the powdered sugar and orange juice. Drizzle over the cooled loaf.

I Feel Seen

Our master bedroom is on the top floor of our house. There is a window over the jacuzzi tub, with wood blinds. I usually keep the blinds open to let light into the bathroom, since there are no windows on the house next door that face my bathroom window.

When we first moved in, over 20 years ago, Hubs asked me about not closing the blinds. It is a bathroom, after all, where we're naked when going in and out of the bath or shower. I told him he was welcome to close them when he's in there if he'd prefer, but teased him that the only way anyone would be able to see him that high up would be if their hovercraft was way off course.

Apparently, at the time, there was a second scenario. I learned that the hard way a month later when, wrapped in a towel fresh from my morning shower, I went to the mirrors opposite that window and caught sight of workers on my neighbor's roof.

 

Who hopefully did not catch sight of me.

Fast forward 20 years, to a time when the privacy I held dear pretty much does not exist anymore. Companies track my every mouse click online. A psychopathic billionaire has access to all of my personal, supposedly private banking, voting, medical, etc information on line. The cable company requires me to send a selfie or a copy of my license in order to allow me to get into my cable account (umm, no, I'll stay out). 

My life is an open book. And I decidedly did not open it.

And now . . .

. . . one recent night after dinner, we'd settled down with our Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Layer Bars for dessert, intending to spend a quiet night in the den. 

Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Layer Bars

At one point I got up to walk around a bit and when I looked outside, saw something I couldn't explain.

There was a light in the sky. And it was just sitting there. I watched it for some time, even got out the binoculars. Every now and then, I thought I saw a tiny flash of green or red. And sometimes it was just a circle of light, other times it looked like there were short rays coming out of each side. But it didn't move from that spot.

Huh?

Hubs looked at it. College Boy looked at it. We couldn't figure it out. It couldn't be an aircraft, nor the only star in the whole sky. We thought drones made noise, but we stepped outside and it was absolutely silent. 

An hour or so later we looked out and it was still there. So probably a drone, but what would a drone be doing sitting over a quiet Midwest neighborhood for hours at a time?

A few hours later, curiosity got the best of me and I looked outside. It was pitch black out now, still no stars, and it remained deathly quiet. But it was still there. It had moved to the right, and lower, at some point (I wish I had happened to see that), but it was just sitting. Now, in a different spot.

We can rule out rogue hovercraft, aircraft, star, and UFO, 'cause if it was a UFO it would have beamed up a fine specimen like me by now. So it's got to be a drone, right?

What was it doing? Peeping?

Seriously, I haven't felt this exposed since coming out of the shower to find workers on the neighbor's roof.

I gotta tell you the truth. I feel seen.

And not in a good way.

Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Layer Bars

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

25 dark chocolate filled sandwich cookies, divided

6 TBSP melted butter

1 cup Butterfingers baking bits

1 cup dark chocolate chips

1/2 cup peanut butter baking chips

6 mini Reese's cups, quartered

1/2 cup Reese's pieces

1 can (14 oz) sweetened condensed milk

1/4 cup crunchy peanut butter

3 TBSP chocolate syrup

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

*Crush 18 of the cookies to crumbs. Mix with the melted butter and pat into the bottom of the prepared pan.

*Chop the remaining cookies and sprinkle over the crust, followed by the dark chocolate chips, then peanut butter baking chips, then quartered mini Reese's cups, then the Reese's pieces.

*Whisk together the sweetened condensed milk, peanut butter, and chocolate syrup. Pour evenly over the top of the other ingredients.

*Bake for 30 - 35 minutes, until the center is set and the edges start to brown. Cool completely before cutting.

Plots and Prey: 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 had a bit of a harrowing experience recently. I was home alone, so I'd had a leisurely morning. Having finished my coffee, I was about to take a nice hot shower. Making sure the water was just how I like it, I jumped in and closed the glass door.

Well, I didn't exactly close it like I'd planned. When it was about 5 inches from being closed, it broke. Wouldn't budge, either way. And I was in there. Naked. Did I mention home alone? Picture that.

Actually, don't. You can take my word for it.

My leisurely morning had gone to hell. I was trapped. And phoning a friend wasn't an option.

Neither was shutting off the water (which was dripping onto the shower matt and floor), and standing in there naked for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately necessity was not the mother of invention this case, but desperation being what it is, I was finally able to jam the door open a few more inches and squeeze my way through. Into the puddle on my bathroom floor.

I may be, for the foreseeable future, taking nice leisurely baths for a long while now. After all, what could go wrong?

Don't answer that. 

It's baseball season! Or for me, Red Sox season since that's the only baseball I watch. I'd mentioned in the past that for Mother's Day, PurDude buys me a subscription to all the Red Sox games. That includes the pre-season games.

We'd been watching a pre-season game, where many different pitchers were trying out for a spot once the season started. After an outing, one of those pitchers was asked about a change in his form. He explained that the coaches had been working with him on how he starts his pitches, in an effort to keep his arm attached to his body.

I'm thinking that it's probably a good thing, athlete or not, to . . . you know . . . keep your arm attached to your body.

When one of the newer players came to bat, the announcers said his name and we were confused. They put his name up on the screen as he stepped into the batter's box, and we were still confused: Jhostynxon.

Now my name is Karen, so believe me, I'm not one to make fun of people's names. But the announcers said that the player was asked about his name and said that his parents couldn't decide between two names, so ended up taking letters from both.

Say what?

First, those parents should have their parent cards revoked.

But second, can you just imagine him in first grade, when all the kids are first learning to write their names?

Little Bob (working hard at forming his letters): B - o - b

Little Sue (working hard at forming her letters): S - u - e

Little Dan (working hard at forming his letters): D - a - n

Little Jhostynxon: I quit.

Watch what you say . . .

Saying "talk to the hand" is an insult that can hurt. But did you know that talking about the hand in an insulting way can boomerang that hurt right back to you?

I know. Now. 

I used to have my nails done regularly, but for years now I've just been doing them myself. I generally keep up with them. I was going through my Insta feed and saw a few people posting some really pretty nail art, most spring inspired.

 

I looked down at my own nails and was mortified. I was way overdue for a touch-up. Clearly they'd been peeling for I don't know how long.

So I posted a picture with a snarky comment about how beautiful {{cough, cough}} my hand looked.

 

that line at the bottom of my hand is just shade from the window treatment slats, btw

I guess my hand took offense, along the lines of "you think that's horrible? Oh, honey, old my beer."

By the time I realized that I had an infection under my rings, the whole finger was so swollen I couldn't get the rings off. It was painful, and my whole hand was becoming involved. It was an excruciating process, but I (with the help of a few medicinal shots of Patron) bit the bullet and ripped the rings off of my finger so I could treat the infection.

But I will never, I mean never, body shame an appendage again. Lesson learned. 

Hubs: These salmon patties are delicious.

Me: When I grilled salmon for dinner the other night, I made extra so we'd have leftovers. I think the grilled salmon makes a difference in the flavor.

Hubs: Are you going to put this recipe on your blog?
Me: Yes, since we are both happy with how they came out.

Hubs: I don't see you taking as many food pictures as you used to.

Me: Well, I used to post 8 to 9 times a month, now that I'm only posting once a month, I don't have to come up with as many new recipes.

Hubs: Now that you're only posting one a month, they have to be really good recipes.

Me: Are you saying I come up with not good recipes?

Hubs: Umm, quick question: will it work out better for me if I go out and buy you flowers? Or have them delivered?

Grilled Salmon Patties

The holidays came (very, very) early for College Boy. I was in our bank accounts and noticed he had 2 credits of almost $2300. When I looked at them, it made no sense to me, he always has a healthy balance on his account.

I asked him about it, and he had no idea what it was about. He can’t remember ever having had an issue with insufficient funds, and would absolutely remember (who wouldn’t?) if he’d ever been hit with a $2000 fee.

It was a weekend, Monday was a holiday, so he called the bank on Tuesday for clarification. They told him the deposits were legit, but couldn’t tell him what they were about. They offered to connect him to another department for more information. College Boy accepted, but hung up after holding for 40 minutes.

Now I love mysteries, you know that, but I greatly prefer for them to have an answer at the end. If not, it leaves me hanging, trying to come up with feasible scenarios in my head. Well that and, in this case, the hope that whatever did happen would happen to me too.

So I’ve been diligently checking my own account about 5 times a day, hoping that free money fairy might put $2300 in there too, for no apparent reason.

So far, no such luck.

But I do have a new earworm, that old Dire Straits song . . . "get your money for nothing . . ."

 

Not having learned my lesson after taunting the hand, seems a comment I'd made was taken as an insult (or a challenge) by Mother Nature.

 

I was saying, and it was true, that Florida had gotten more snow this winter than we had in the Midwest. 

 

Once again, I'd be treated to an "oh honey, hold my beer," moment.

 

It started to snow. And snow. And before you knew it, we had Florida beat. By a mile. 

And you know who everyone I'd originally joked with was blaming, right? Yup, me. 

If only I could use my power for good instead of evil.

 

 

So, it had been snowing. Yes, again. Apparently Mother Nature can really hold a grudge. Anyway, we were watching a basketball game, after which Hubs was going out to snow blow the driveway.

 

Me (pulling out a bottle of wine): I'd ask if you want a glass of wine, but I don't want you to be drunk blowing.

Hubs: {{blink, blink}}

Me: OK, that may not have come out right.

Hubs: I think maybe you're the one who should lay off the wine.

 

Yeah, he could make a case for that. 

Next thing you know, my neighbor is . . . well . . . lawn blowing.

So maybe that whole drunk blowing actually is a thing.

Finally it looked like the weather was starting to change. The sun had come out and we were starting to see some bare concrete on our front deck. In fact, the left side, that got more sun, was completely clear.

That afternoon, the Fed Ex guy made a delivery. Where do you think he choose to throw the album?

Did you guess?

 

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

Menopausal Mother 

On the Border

Grilled Salmon Patties

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

NOTE: this recipe requires the salmon to be cooled after grilled, so be sure to have a few hours between grilling and preparing the patties. I usually grill the salmon the night before.

Ingredients:

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

1/4 tsp paprika

1/8 tsp cayenne pepper

3/4# skin on salmon fillet

1 green onion

2 eggs

1/3 cup seasoned bread crumbs

1 cup corn flakes, crushed

1 TBSP oil

1 TBSP butter

OPT: sliced lemon or tartar sauce for serving

Directions:
*Mix together the salt, pepper, paprika, and cayenne. Sprinkle onto both sides of the salmon fillet.

*Heat the grill to medium. Place the salmon on the grill, flesh side down, and cook for 3 minutes. Flip the fillet over and grill, skin side down, until the fish is fully cooked and flakes when a fork is inserted into the center. How long it will take to cook will depend on the thickness of your fillet.

*Remove the salmon from the grill, remove and discard the skin. Chop the fillet and refrigerate in a bowl until cold (I refrigerate overnight).

*Chop the green onion. Mix the cooled salmon with the green onion, eggs, and bread crumbs. Using your hands, form into 6 balls.

*Individually, press each ball into the corn flakes to coat, flattening the balls into patties. Turn the patty over and coat the other side. Place wax paper onto a plate or tray, and refrigerate the patties for an hour.

*Add the oil and butter to a large skillet over medium heat. Once it starts to bubble, add the salmon patties. Cook for about 5 minutes, until the bottom is browned. Flip the patties over and turn the heat down a little if necessary. Cook another about 5 minutes until browned and the centers are warm. 

*OPT: serve with lemon slices and/or tartar sauce.