Wardrobe Woes: 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! 

Whenever Purdue plays a game, I wear my Purdue shirt. Since they had a game on Saturday, I pulled out my black Purdue shirt and a pair of black lounging pants. Perfect comfy game day clothes.

When I came down to the den:

Hubs: That's so not like you.

Me: What is?
Hubs: Not to match.

Me: What do you mean I don't match?

Hubs: Your shirt is black and your pants are navy blue.

Me: They're black.

Hubs: They're blue.

Me: Black.

Hubs: Blue.

Me: If you say that one more time, you may end up black and blue.

Hubs: Black, it is.

Actually, they were blue.

A couple of hours later, Mom called:

Mom: How are you?
Me: Well, today I'm black and blue.

Mom: Did you have a fall?
Me: No, I had a wardrobe malfunction.

Speaking of wardrobe woes:

Hubs hears me stomp up the stairs, swearing at . . . well, he was the only one home so he assumed . . .

Hubs (asking sheepishly): What's wrong?

Me: I am SO mad!

Hubs: At . . .

Me (throwing the jeans I'd been wearing down the stairs): These jeans.

Hubs: Your jeans? You're mad at your jeans? 

Me: Yes, I'm going to burn them. Not, that's too good for them, I'm going the shred them and then burn them.

Hubs: I mean, not that I'm ungrateful that your anger isn't at me, but what did those jeans do to you?

Me: Not me.

Hubs (looking at me like I'd lost it): Not you? Then who?

I was too angry to talk about it, but the jeans had back pockets that closed with metal buttons. When I went to stand up, one of the buttons caught on and ripped the beautiful, buttery soft leather couch.

And those jeans will burn.

And I guessed I was jinxed talking about falls:

I was coming in the front door when I fell. I had a cut on one arm, and bruises on the other arm and one of my legs. Hubs wasn't home at the time, but noticed the bruise later on.

Hubs: How did you get that bruise?
Me: I fell coming in the front door.

Hubs: How did you end up falling? 

Me: I have no idea.

Hubs: Did you trip on the step up into the house?

Me: No, one minute I was walking into the house, the next minute I hit the ground.

Hubs: Did you get dizzy? Lose your sense of balance?
Me: You calling me old?

Hubs: No, just trying to figure out what happened.

Me: I think you snuck up behind me and pushed me.

Hubs: Yeah, and why don't I remember doing that?
Me: Because you're old.

Hubs and I were watching TV and a commercial came on for Burger King's double cheeseburger. The ad was showing a bride on the dance floor with her groom and guests, dancing away and eating a double cheeseburger.

I'm sorry, what? 

Who, exactly, is the customer this is supposed to be targeting? All those fast food loving brides out there?

I mean, even if my family owned Burger King, I wouldn't be eating a fast food double cheeseburger on the dance floor at my wedding. 

You?

I have to admit, there's nothing like the smell of something chocolate baking in the oven.

Hubs (coming down the stairs): What do I smell?
Me (taking the cake out of the oven): Strawberry Devil's Food Cake.

Hubs: Smells delicious, I'll take a piece.

Me: Well, first I have to cool it, frost it, decorate it, and photograph it.

Hubs: How about skipping some of those steps.

Me (laughing): Which steps should I skip?
Hubs. Cool it. And decorating it. Oh, and taking pictures.

Me: So you want me to just frost the hot cake?
Hubs: Yes. 

Me: Yes?
Hubs: Well that, and hand me a fork.

Strawberry Devil's Food Cake

For some reason, my FB newsfeed is constantly full of those AITA posts. There are far too many, and they don't give you the whole story unless you click on their link, which I don't, but sometimes just reading the beginning of the post can be amusing. 

I assume most of you know that AITA (am I the asshole) posts are either people, or most likely made up stories, presenting a difficult situation, explaining how they handled it and asking if they are the asshole due to their actions.

Tonight, I looked at one of the posts, started laughing, and shared the title with Hubs:

Me (reading to him): AITA for giving a thief diarrhea?

Hubs (laughing): Yes.

Me: But you don't know the story.

Hubs: Still yes.

 

Hubs and I were watching a football game, when our team made an excellent play.

Me: That was an amazing play.

TV announcer: That was an amazing play.

Me: Hey, I just said that.

Hubs: Yeah, you copied him.

Me: I'm not sure you understand how copying works.

Hubs: What do you mean? You both said the same thing.

Me: But you said I copied him.

Hubs: You did.

Me: But I said it first. 

Hubs: Oh. Good point.

Later in the game, our quarterback passed off the ball and one of the players was running down the field.

Me: GO! GO! Yes, keep running. GO! YES!

Hubs: What are you yelling about?
Me: Don't you see him, how far down the field he's running?

Hubs: Which would have been great if . . .

Me: If what?
Hubs: He'd have been the player with the ball.

Crap. Well, he has a point.

If you follow my Baking In A Tornado facebook page (if not, please pop on over and rectify that), you know that I post the results of word and math puzzle games twice a day, and anyone who wants to adds their results in the comments.

A few of the night games aren't available until 6:00pm (central time) at this time of year. I like to play right at 6:00, before dinner. Hubs often will remind me when it's time, if I forget.

A few days ago, we both lost track of time.

Me: Oh, what time is it, is it game time?
Hubs: I put my watch in my pocket, let me get it.

Me (looking at my cell): It's 5:58.

Hubs (pulling out his watch): You're right, it's 5:58.

Me: Of course I'm right.

Hubs: What do you mean of course you're right?

Me (rolling my eyes): I looked at my cell, how wrong could I be?

I can't end this monthly post without my latest failed text to PurDude, seems I have at least one every month.

When PurDude came home for the holidays, he had to find a place to stop as his car required a quart of oil along the way. It was lucky he found the oil he needed, it's a euro oil and not everyone carries it.

While he was here, I bought him oil to have in the car in case he needs it on the way home. He did.

It's now ski season and sometimes he goes to a mountain close by, other times he drives a few hours. 

My text to him last week:

Me: Don't forget, don't go far without buying oil to have with you for the cat.

PurDude: Don't forget, I don't have a cat. But if I ever get one, I'll be sure to get him some oil if I'm going far.

Ugh!

 

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

Menopausal Mother 

On the Border

Strawberry Devil's Food Cake

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

box Devil's Food Cake Mix

1 cup milk

1 stick butter, melted

4 eggs

1 cup sour cream

1 TBSP baking cocoa + additional for flouring the pan

3/4 cup strawberry preserves

1 can white frosting

1 cup strawberry cream cheese, room temperature

3 drops red food coloring

3 TBSP strawberry syrup

OPT: red sanding sugar, multicolored nonpareils, or any decoration of your choice

Directions:

*Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour (with baking cocoa) a 9 X 13 pan.

*Beat the cake mix, milk, melted butter, eggs, sour cream and 1 TBSP baking cocoa for 2 minutes. Pour evenly into the prepared pan.

*Whisk the strawberry preserves, then drizzle onto the cake mix. Swirl into the top of the mix using a toothpick.

*Bake for 30 - 35 minutes, until the center springs back to the touch. Cool completley.

*Beat the canned frosting with the cream cheese, food coloring, and 1 TBSP strawberry syrup. Set aside 3/4 cup for piping onto the top. Mix the additional 2 TBSP strawberry syrup into the remaining frosting. Spread over the cake.

*Pipe the 3/4 cup of frosting onto the cake and decorate as desired. Refrigerate. Bring to room temperature for serving.

Gold: 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! 

Spent 2 really great family weeks while PurDude was here. Mostly, we watched sports, but every now and then I got a chance to watch one of the shows I enjoy.

I love mystery and true crime. At one point, when PurDude was in college in Indiana (Purdue, obviously), but was home for the summer, I noticed that an inordinate amount of the true crime shows took place in Indiana, or at least had an Indiana connection. Whenever he was here and one of those shows came on, I'd comment about the Indiana connection, teasing him about it not being safe for me to send him back to school.

This time, while he was home, one of those shows was coming on and I said something, jokingly, about where in Indiana this murder might have taken place.

Then the show started, and it took place in Massachusetts.

PurDude: Ha, mom, it's in your home state.

They start with the back story. A young woman is murdered in her parent's home. She's there for winter break from where she goes to college, Indiana University.

Me: Ha, indeed. 

Older Son caught a bad cold at work and, unfortunately, PurDude and Hubs all got sick. We had a box of severe cold medicine with 16 daytime medicine packets and 8 nighttime packets. PurDude was the last one to get sick, so he was the last one to feel better. He needed another night or two of the nighttime medicine, but we only had the daytime packets left.

Hubs (looking in the box): I think he needs ore of the nighttime medicine, but we only have the daytime tablets left. That's a problem.

Me: No problem.

Hubs: But the nighttime one really helps you sleep.

Me: That's OK, I'll just make the daytime meds into nighttime meds.

Hubs: Really? How can you do that?

He saw exactly how as I walked over to PurDude with 2 daytime capsules and a shot of apple bourbon.

Mission accomplished.

It was Thanksgiving afternoon, we had snacks set out on the kitchen counter and were all sprawled out on couches watching football. Exhausted, I was almost dozing when PurDude startled me awake.

PurDude (looking at me): HA!

Me: Ha?
PurDude: I caught you.

Me: You caught me.

PurDude: Yes. Where, exactly, have you been hiding these.

He shoves his phone in my face showing a picture I'd posted on my FB page with a Thanksgiving message. The picture was of my Gobble Gobble Turkey Treats.

Me: Those? Those are long gone.

PurDude: I didn't have a single one.

Me: Well, I'm sure you did. Back in 2018 when I made them . . .

The night before PurDude was leaving, I was making dinner. For one of the sides I was roasting some baby potatoes. I'd bought a bag of mixed baby whites, baby reds, and baby purples. I had halved them and were putting them in the baking dish to prepare. PurDude had moved up to the counter stools to talk to me.

PurDude: Oh, it looks like they went bad.

Me: What went bad?
PurDude: Those black potatoes.

Me: Those aren't black, they're purple, they're supposed to look like that.

PurDude (giving me that skeptical arched eyebrow look): You trying to poison me?
Me: No fooling you, you got me.

Later, we all sat down with our meals. Before we started eating, I went to fill my wine glass.

And when I came back, PurDude's plate had only the white and red potatoes on it. And my plate somehow had only the purples.

Things get pretty hectic about this time of year, I know I don't have to tell you that. We'd just finished round one: Thanksgiving cooking and baking, along with PurDude being here for 2 weeks and preparing all of his favorite meals and snacks and desserts, all with a family birthday thrown in.

While PurDude was here, we celebrated Hanukkah early with our traditional Prime Rib and latkes dinner. But now it's actually Hanukkah time, we had another family birthday just a few days ago, and then there are the parties, cookie swaps, Christmas, New Year's . . .

I, like most of us this time of year, was swamped. I was in my baking zone and had lost track of time. I Didn't even know it was dinner time until Hubs walked in the door. 

Hubs (putting down his briefcase): What's for dinner?
Me (looking around the kitchen guiltily): Ummm, Chocolate Peppermint Pie?

In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have made that a question if I wanted to sound convincing. Live and learn.

Chocolate Peppermint Pie

And now that PurDude is back in Boulder:

I was texting PurDude and I have no idea what happened. I wasn't looking at the keyboard as I texted, but clearly I wasn't hitting the letters I thought I was because I looked down and saw:

I dubakkt diybs a 

Frustrated, I started backspacing to delete the letters and start over. And, again, I don't know what happened, but part of the way through, it sent. So my text to PurDude was:

I dubakkt di

And as if that's not bad enough, it appears I had liked my own text.

I didn't even know you even COULD like your own text. 

Perfect, the kid's gonna have me committed.

 

One thing that doing stupid things does, is it makes you more vigilant. So the next day, when I was texting PurDude, I was paying more attention to what I was doing.

PurDude: How are you, mom?

Me: I'm good, how are you doing?

Well, that was what I was trying to say.

Autocorrect had other ideas. Fortunately, I caught it before I responded:

I'm good, how are you, donkey?

Seems autocorrect is trying to make an ass of me.

Ugh, and one I missed. So much for being vigilant. But PurDude had sent me his daily check in text, and I was in the middle of about 5 things and I was in a rush.

I'd been complaining to him for the last few days that it was just cold and dark and dreary out. Depressing.

So, rather than a longer text with family news, as is my usual, I was short and to the point.

PurDude: Hi ma, how are you, ma?

Me: I'm great, we have sun!

PurDude: OK, love you, ma.

OK? That's weird. Like he doesn't quite know how to respond. So I looked at my text again.

And yes, I can see why he didn't know what to say. Because what I'd actually texted? It was:

Me: I'm great, we have sin!

Yeah, not even close to what I wanted to say. I rarely boast about sin. Especially to my son.

Whoever isn't on social media is really missing out. And I don't mean the posts. No, the social media gold is in the comments on the posts.

I saw a posted story, a video of a woman showing how she makes breakfast for her 5 year old son. As she put rice into a steamer, she explained that in her husband's culture, they have rice with every meal.

Then she chops potatoes and puts them into an air fryer. She gets a cast iron pan screaming hot and puts a steak about the size of the pan in with butter and garlic. When the steak is done, she moves the rice, potatoes and steak on the plate, then fries an egg in the pan and adds that on top of the rice.

First comment on her post: Is your son a long haul trucker?

Gold!

Another one that had me laughing out loud:

There's a "God" FB page. The description the administrator of the page gives is "comedian." There's often a lot to laugh at on that page, not just the posts, but the comments on the post.

So God posted:

 

Something that would really shock Jesus if he came back today.

And one of the comments on that post:

You used to be able to buy a double cheeseburger at McDonald's for a dollar.

Yeah, I'm thinking this guy didn't really understand the assignment.

 

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

Menopausal Mother 

On the Border

Chocolate Peppermint Pie

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 cup mint chocolate chip ice cream

7 chocolate graham crackers

3 TBSP sugar

4 TBSP butter, melted

2/3 cup heavy cream

1 tsp cornstarch

2 tsp powdered sugar

1/2 tsp peppermint extract

2 drops red food coloring

1/4 cup milk

1 box (3.95 oz) York instant pudding mix

Directions:

*Place the ice crem in a bowl on the counter to thaw.

*NOTE: crust can be made a day ahead. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Lightly grease a 10 inch pie plate.

*Crush the graham crackers and sugar in a food processor until you have crumbs. Add the melted butter and process until incorporated.

*Press the crumbs into the bottom and partway up the sides of the pie plate. Bake for 6 minutes. Cool completely.

*Beat the heavy cream until soft peaks form. Add the cornstarch and powdered sugar and beat until stiff peaks hold. Set aside.

*Once the ice cream is liquid, whisk in the milk, then the pudding mix. Whisk for about a minute. Fold in 1/2 cup of the whipped cream, spread evenly into the pie crust and refrigerate.

*To the remaining whipped cream, add the peppermint extract and red food coloring. Mix until incorporate, place into a piping bag and pipe onto pie. Refrigerate for an hour. Store leftovers, covered, in the refrigerator.