Electrocuted: Fly on the Wall

 

Welcome to our monthly Fly on the Wall, a blog post written in snippets. Marcia, Diane, Sarah, 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 recently saw a commercial for Dish TV in which a bird asked a hyper (aren't they all?) squirrel "were you recently electrocuted?" I thought it was such a great burn, I started using it.

Hubs: Supposed to be a beautiful sunrise tomorrow, want me to wake you up?

Me: What time?
Hubs: About 5:30 am.
Me: Were you recently electrocuted?

Response on Threads to a post about the continued attacks by the trump on medicare, medicaid and social security: He is the best president ever making America great again.
Me: Were you recently electrocuted?

I was sitting out on the back deck when I saw one of the workers from a new internet company laying cable in our area. He walked through the end of my neighbor's back yard, continued along the tree line of large cottonwoods along the woods behind my house. Clearly, he didn't see me. All of a sudden he stops, kicks one of the big trees, takes about 6 more steps, kicks another tree, and keeps going into my neighbor's yard on the other side.

Me (from the deck): Were you recently electrocuted?

Random Email from the co-founder of a company in Hamburg, Germany: We are searching for an online site to acquire. Your site came up in our research. Would you be interested in starting a conversation with us?

Me: Were you recently electrocuted?

But I need to be careful not to let the wrong word slip. When I somehow mistakenly asked Hubs if he'd been recently executed (oops) . . . let's just say the humor gets lost in the translation (so to speak).

I'm not someone who considers herself to have an especially dirty mind, and certainly not when it comes to produce.

But when you place your grocery pick up order online and it includes a sweet potato and a couple of russet potatoes, and this is what you get:

I mean, what am I supposed to do with this?

Wait, don't answer that. But here's something I know for sure, I'm not going to be peeling that thing.

I've mentioned before that, with the woods in our backyard, we have with all kinds of wildlife. Most of it we really enjoy, but some are actually quite destructive. Like the woodpeckers, who have cost us thousands of dollars.

And then there are the moles, who destroy our yard.

Hubs was advised to buy these solar mole deterrents, you put the plastic stake in your yard, the solar sensor is fitted into the top and emits a pulse and a sound that apparently the moles don't like. For the past few years, when we see we have a problem, Hubs puts them in the back lawn.

A few weeks ago, our neighbor came over to let us know that our yard and his were being attacked. He put out a trap, and Hubs put out 4 the solar deterrents.

A couple of days later I was in the back yard and almost tripped over a plastic stake sticking out of the ground. I looked around, and about 3 feet to the right, I found this:

So, I'm guessing the moles have decided to definitively make their objections known.

A recent new recipe was inspired by an impulse buy. I'd found some fresh hot chili pepper linguini, and knew what I wanted to do with it.

 

I boiled water to cook the linguini, put it in the pot, checked the directions on the package and was stumped: "boil for 2 - 3 minutes, until the product internal temperature reaches 165 degrees".

 

I mean, I've never checked the internal temperature of pasta before. Like, what do you even use? A meat thermometer? Oral? Rectal?

I was telling Hubs about the directions over dinner:

Hubs: So what did you do?
Me: I just cooked it for 3 minutes and hoped for the best.

Hubs (giving me the side eye): And if the best doesn't happen?
Me: We'll be grateful that we have 4 bathrooms in this house.

Yes, we bravely ate it. And yes, it was delicious. And yes, we were fine. Phew.

Speaking of new recipes, once I have one in my head, I'm anxious to try it as soon as I can. Sometimes, though, I just don't have all of the ingredients on hand. That happened recently. I had everything but 2 ingredients.

 

Lucky for me, Hubs texted from work and wanted to know if I wanted him to pick anything up on the way home. I texted him the short list. 

 

About an hour or so later, he texted me back:

Hubs: I know what the first thing on your list is, but I'm not quite sure about the second. Can you clarify?

 

I didn't know which item he was referring to, so I checked my text to him:

heavy cream

cinnamon pot farts

Oy. Make that Cinnamon Pop Tarts. There are no farts in my recipes. Ever. 

Cinnamon Pastry Ice Cream (no churn)

I love to read, I'm mentioned it in many different blog posts, including in one of my earliest called Read This. My genre of choice is, and has always been, mysteries. I love trying to solve the who-done-it puzzle before the author reveals it.

 

Sometimes when reading, you pick up the strangest little bits of information when you least expect it. In the book I'm currently reading, the male protagonist was on a date. He's a scientist and, in trying to impress his date (not how I'd do it, but you do you, buddy), he imparted this bit of wisdom about the planets: "you can fit 63 Earths in Uranus." 

Well I, for one, will never be able to think of the planets the same again.

 

Hubs and I have opposite eyes. He needs his glasses for close up, and I use mine for far away. I suppose if we could marry our visual resources we'd end up with 20/20, but those days are long gone.

An example of our opposite eyesight:

Hubs (looking at his cell): That's ridiculous.

Me: What is?

Hubs: My cell says it's 79 degrees, and it's more like 65.

Me (looking at his cell): Put your glasses on.

Hubs: What do my glasses have to do with the weather.

Me: With your glasses on you might be able to see that the little symbol next to the 79 is not degrees, it's percent.

Hubs: What?

Me: You're not looking at the temperature, you're looking at your battery level.

Hubs: Oh. Never mind.

Hubs brought in the mail, and right away a pink envelope caught my eye.

Me: What's that?
Hubs: It's from your mother.

Me (looking at the envelope): It's not FROM my mother, it's TO my mother.

I quickly grabbed the phone:

Me: Guess what I got in the mail today?
Mom: I don't know, what?
Me: Your birthday card.

Mom: My birthday card? My birthday was weeks ago.

Me: Yeah, I guess they're real sticklers about that whole you need to add a stamp to your mail thing . . .

Hubs and I were sitting down to watch a Red Sox game.

Or to recite a comedy routine, although we didn't know it at the time.

Hubs: Looks like Casas isn't playing first base today.

Me: Who's on first?
Hubs: I don't know.

Me (laughing): I know.

Hubs: Who?

Me: Yes.

I'm going to end this post on a very serious note. 

I have, in the past when I was publishing 8 to 9 blog posts a month, spoken out quite a bit about both the politics in this country, and the hatred unleashed by the con man currently hell bent on destroying it. I don't generally bang my head against that brick wall in my posts as much, partly because at this point, I'm mostly only publishing this monthly Fly on the Wall.

But College Boy came here the other day with a story, and a picture, that both saddened and sickened me.

He had ordered some Mexican food, and was approaching the restaurant from the back when he saw something that made no sense. There was a truck parked behind the restaurant and what looked like a dead rabbit placed on the hood.

College Boy took a picture and went inside. He asked the person at the counter if that truck belonged to an employee. It did. When he was shown the picture, the employee didn't seem surprised. He told College Boy that people "have been messing" with them. "We think it's because we're Mexican." They do have cameras in the back, and he said he'd check the video.

But honestly, I think even if he reports it, no one will really care.

Because, right now, that's who we are. 

So saddened, and sickened, and exceedingly ashamed.

 

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

Menopausal Mother 

On the Border 

What TF Sarah

Cinnamon Pastry Ice Cream (no churn)

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

3 Frosted Brown Sugar Cinnamon toaster pastries

2 TBSP cinnamon baking chips

1 can (14 oz) sweetened condensed milk

2 cups heavy cream

Directions:
*Line a loaf pan with strips of plastic wrap long enough to hang over the edges. Place in freezer.

*Toast and chop the toaster pastries. Place in freezer.

*Using a clean coffee grinder or a food processor, crush the baking chips into crumbs.

*In a large bowl, mix the sweetened condensed milk and the cinnamon chip crumbs. Set aside.

*Beat the heavy cream until stiff peaks hold, then fold into the condensed milk. Last, reserving a few pieces for the top if you want, fold in the chopped toaster pastries.

*Pour evenly into the loaf pan. Freeze overnight.

*Store in the loaf pan with the long ends of the plastic wrap folded over the top.

Use Your F Words

Today’s post is a monthly writing challenge. If you’re new here, this is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once. All of the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s  participating knows who got their words and in what direction the recipient will take them. Until now.

At the end of this post you’ll find links to the other blogs featuring this challenge. Check them all out, see what words they got and how they used them.
I'm using: frivolous ~ fatal ~ fluffy ~ featured ~ final ~ feeble
They were submitted by Diane of On the Border.

                          
What's the matter, Diane? You don't like fudge? It's fuel for the soul. And food you don't have to eat with a fork.

In fact, where's the fish (with fries, please)? Fresh fruit? Figs perhaps?

Now fava beans, I don't blame you for skipping. Thanks to Hannibal Lecter they're officially forgettable, fear inciting.

But there's always fondue. Feta's quite flavorful. If you like dipping (who doesn't) a flowing chocolate fountain is fierce.

What about drinks? It's only fitting we add a few. I favor a frozen frappe? Oh, add some Frangelico, now that sounds fab.

And just to be inclusive, how about some "f" words with international flair, French onion soup, fettuccine, falafel. And don't forget fajitas and frittatas. 

Jeez, wonder why I'm famished. Feeling faint, even.

Luckily, I can feast on today's featured recipe, these fluffy Orange Cinnamon Rolls. 

 

Orange Cinnamon Rolls

Had your fill? I'll bid you farewell (for today, anyway) with my final, frivolous, feeble (but hopefully not fatal), attempt at "f" word domination, let me just say this: I tried to embrace the frightening (but fair) nature of these word choices, Diane, and whether I succeeded or failed, you are still my friend. And that's despite your obvious floccinaucinihilipilification of fudge. Fact.

OK, I admit it, that was fun. 

 

Here are links to all the other Use Your Words posts:

 

Climaxed

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver 

On the Border 

 

Orange Cinnamon Rolls

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 (1#) loaf frozen bread dough

4 TBSP butter, softened

4 TBSP cookie butter (speculoos)

2 TBSP fresh squeezed orange juice

2 tsp orange zest

3/4 cup powdered sugar

2 tsp orange juice

Directions:

*Lightly grease a piece of plastic wrap, enclose the dough in the wrap and refrigerate for 6 hours.

*Whisk together the butter, cookie butter, 2 TBSP orange juice, and orange zest. Set aside.

*Grease a 9 X 13 baking pan.

*Flour a rolling surface, place the dough on the flour, cover the dough with the plastic wrap and roll out to about 16 inches long and 9 inches wide.

*Spread the butter mixture onto the dough. Using one long side, roll the dough all the way up to the other long side, creating a 16 inch long tube.

*Cut the dough into 18 evenly sized piece. Place them, flat side down, into the prepared pan. Gently press down.

*Cover the top of the pan with the plastic wrap, and allow to rise for 4 - 5 hours.

*Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Remove the plastic wrap from the pan. Bake for 25 minutes.

*Whisk together the powdered sugar and remaining 2 tsp orange juice. Drizzle over the warm rolls.

Old School Discipline

 

Old school punishments. Gone. Many with good reason.

But wait, not so fast . . .

 

Parents, most of us, do the best we can with our children. What the best is, though, changes over time, from generation to generation. And that's a good thing. As society progresses, science and psychology advance and become more accessible in the main stream, parents have more information, more options, better ways to approach parenting, behavior modification and, yes, punishment.

 

True story: My oldest is very headstrong. I won't say he got it from be but . . . OK, I'll say it, he got it from me.

When he was little, one of the behavior modification strategies I'd use would be to take away a favorite toy and put it on the top of the fridge for a finite amount of time. 

One day mom called me. I was frazzled, and she could hear my son whining in the background. Since we wanted to talk (or maybe she wanted to talk me off of the ledge) she had a suggestion:

Mom: Why don't you give him a toy to play with so we can talk?

Me: I can't.

Mom: What do you mean you can't?

Me: He doesn't have any.

Mom: Any what?
Me: Toys.

Mom: Toys? He's got thousands of them.

Me: They're all on the top of the fridge.

Mom: All of them?
Me: Pretty much.

Mom: You're having a bad day. You need to take a break. What are you doing now?
Me: Trying to figure out how to get the TV on top of the fridge.

Not a bad strategy in general, but decidedly better than some of those old school punishments. The ones used in the time of our parents, and grandparents, when the understanding of children and behavior and conformity was not what it is today.

 

But as I watch the news, I start to realize that many of those who are in the public eye are suffering from one of two things: either not being punished enough as children, or just plain never learning some very basic moral lessons.

Maybe what they need is some old school discipline.

 

 

Like, who better to be sent to sit in the corner with a dunce cap than Mike Pence. 

Alex Jones absolutely needs to have his mouth washed out with soap. Hourly.

Matt Gaetz needs a good old fashioned spanking. Unless, of course, he'd like it.

Banned from TV? Kanye West. Not watching it, but being on it. "Ye" should spend less time changing his name and more time changing his rhetoric.

Putin should be forced to take out the trash, since he is trash.

Who should have had his favorite toy taken away? Has to be trump and that sharpie.

Marjorie Taylor Greene needs to be tasked with cleaning the toilets. Maybe she'll get stuck in that swirling waterspout when she flushes.

 

Clarence Thomas should be sent to bed without dessert. Make that without dinner too. Less eating, more time for reading the constitution.

 

 

Cinnamon Cream Cheese Cookies

 

 

Staying home with a babysitter while the family goes on vacation (OK, not a real punishment, I made that one up): who but Ted Cruz?

Now, if we want to move out of the realm of the home, and out into society, I think that stoning might be an appropriate punishment for the aptly named Roger Stone.

 

And I have to admit, it would do my heart good to see Moscow Mitch's head and hands sticking out of those holes in the wooden stockade on the town square. 

Bet there are a few you could add too.

 

Cinnamon Cream Cheese Cookies        

                                                                                      ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
1/2 cup cinnamon baking chips

1 stick butter, softened

4 oz cream cheese, softened

1 egg, room temperature

1/2 tsp vanilla

1/2 cup powdered sugar

1 1/4 cups flour

 

roasted pepitas

Directions:
*In a food processor or a clean coffee grinder, crush the baking chips to powder.

*Cream the butter, cream cheese, and crushed baking chips until smooth. Beat in the egg and vanilla. 

*Carefully beat in the powdered sugar and flour.

*Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and refrigerate for an hour.

*Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Cover baking sheets with parchment paper.

*Roll the dough into 24 equal sized balls. Place onto the prepared baking sheets and, using a wet or greased bottom of a glass, flatten them. Top each with a few pumpkin seeds.

*Bake for 15 minutes. Allow to cool on the baking sheets for 2 minutes before removing to cool completely.

Dinner Betting and Sneeze Mowing: 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.

I'm sure you're aware that it was Halloween a few weeks ago. Hubs went downstairs to watch football and I was in the den giving out candy to the kids. About ten minutes before the game started, Hubs came upstairs.

Hubs: I'll give out candy for a while, I want to see some of the cute kids.

I sit down on the couch, and a few minutes later, the doorbell rings, Hubs jumps up, grabs the candy, and goes to the door.

Hubs (opening up the door): Trick or treat!

He hands out the candy, and comes back.

Me: I think we need to talk.

Hubs: OK.

Me: I'm not sure you get how this works.

Hubs: Huh?

Me: You're actually not the one who's supposed to say "Trick or Treat." 

 

 

 

One little boy came alone to the door. I opened the door, and in a sing song voice, he looks at me and says:

Trick or treat

give me something good to eat

or you'll have to smell my farts.

I'm thinking my husband isn't the only one who doesn't understand how this whole halloween door decorum is supposed to work.

 

Next a whole bunch of older kids came to the door, one by one I gave them candy, and one by one they wished me well.

First kid: Merry Christmas.

Second kid: Happy Thanksgiving.

Third kid: Happy Hanukkah.

Forth kid: Happy New Year.

Fifth kid: Happy . . . umm . . . happy birthday!

What happened to Happy Halloween?

 

A few things as back story. First, Hubs is semi retired, goes to work a few days a week. Second, I'd hurt my knee, so was walking as little as possible, and third, we have woodpeckers who peck holes in the siding of our house, causing about a thousand dollars of damage each year.

On Monday I could hear the woodpecker on the side of the house and, since I was babying my knee, called to Hubs, who went out and scared it off.

The next day Hubs was at work and the woodpecker was back so I had to go out there and yell at it myself.

Wednesday, Hubs was home so I once again sent him out. 

Me (as Hubs came in from outside): What is your schedule this week? Are you working tomorrow?

Hubs: I'm trying to decide.

Me: You can stay home and yell at woodpeckers.

Hubs: Well, those are words I never thought I'd hear . . .

Me: Funny, those are words I never thought I'd say.

It was a Saturday morning and we were looking forward to the Purdue football game.

 

Hubs: My prediction is that Purdue will win by 10.

Me: That's a pretty bold prediction, the teams are fairly equal.

Hubs: I still think Purdue will win by 10.

Me: How about a little wager?
Hubs: OK. What?
Me: If Purdue doesn't win by 10, you cook dinner for the rest of the month.

Hubs: No.

Me: Not so sure now, are you?
Hubs: Oh, I'm sure. I'm sure we don't want to starve to death.

 

He has a point. But we could always drink dinner . . .

 

 Cinnamon Orange Coffee

Hubs, College Boy, and I had all gotten our booster shots. I knew PurDude had an appointment, and was anxious to hear he'd gotten his.

On the day he was scheduled to go, I texted him:

Me: Did you have your shit today?

And as much as I'd like to blame autocorrect, I doubt autocorrect changed "shot" to "shit," so I'm thinking I'm going to have to own this one.

 

 

This one actually was autocorrect.

I was texting with him later in the month and telling him that Hubs' car tire had a leak. He took it to the tire place, who said they had good news and bad news.

The good news was that there was a nail in the tire and it could be patched. The bad news, when they went to take the tire off, their machine ripped the sidewall.

PurDude: Well they shouldn't be taking his tire off in the street with an excavator.
Me: Street? Excavator? Huh?

PurDude: Well, you said their machine ripped the sidewalk.

And looking back at the text, yes, that's exactly what I'd said to him.

 

 

 

I came home and noticed that College Boy was there. Walking through the kitchen, I notice something sitting on the counter that I hadn't bought:

 

 

 

And all I could think was "I really hope he's thinking of cooking something, and not, you know, hinting at his future plans."

 

I'll let you know how that goes.

 

 

 

Hard to believe that the first few days of this month Hubs had to mow the lawn one last time. Also hard to believe we were still suffering from fall allergies.

 

I was standing on the deck, talking to a friend on the phone:

 

Katy: What am I hearing?
Me: I'm out on the deck, Hubs is mowing, you hear the lawnmower.

Katy: But what's that other noise?
Me: Oh, he's sneeze mowing.

Katy: Sneeze mowing?

Me: Yeah, and that's just the first act.

Katy: First act? What's the next act?
Me: Sneeze showering.

 

Poor guy. But at least he's done. Well, until spring.

 

 

 

If there's one thing I will not stand for, it's flies in my kitchen. I cannot even think about them landing in my food. So we're pretty careful about keeping them out of the house. Not, of course, the proverbial Fly on the Wall, we're talking about the real thing here.

 

Mid November, it's usually too cold to have to worry about flies in the house, but I was preparing dinner and caught one buzzing around the food.

I shooed it away and it headed to the window by the dinner table. I grabbed a fly swatter and followed. I saw it on the floor but it was laying upside down. Do flies play dead? I nudged it with the fly swatter and, nothing.

 

Me: Decoy!

Hubs (walking into the room): What's going on?
Me: There was a fly in the kitchen when I was making dinner and I was trying to kill it.

Hubs: Looks like you did.

Me: No, this was just a decoy.

Hubs: Umm . . . decoy?

Me: Yes, damn fly tried to fool me with a decoy.

Hubs (backing carefully away): OK. Good talk . . .

 

 

 

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

Menopausal Mother 

The Diary of an Alzheimer's Caregiver

 

Cinnamon Orange Coffee        
                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients (makes 2): 

3 cups brewed coffee, hot

1 tsp powdered French Vanilla creamer

1 TBSP sugar

1 TBSP speculoos (cookie butter)

3 oz orange liqueur

whipped cream

1/4 tsp cinnamon

Directions:
*Mix together the brewed coffee, creamer and sugar.

*Vigorously whisk in the speculoos and orange liqueur until completely incorporated.

*Divide into mugs, top each with whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon.