March in March: 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! 

February was finally over, the first day of March was here and I was excited. It had been a cold windy February, well, with a few very weird, almost hot day thrown in there just to keep us on our toes. I was more than ready for the month in which Spring would officially start.

On that day, I decided to play a joke on Hubs. I filled the coffee pot (yes, we still use a coffee pot) with root beer. Once it was flat, it looked like coffee.

Hubs (spitting his "coffee" into the sink): What the hell?
Me: April fools!

Hubs: That's next month!

Me: Caught you off guard, didn't I? 

It's no secret that I watch a lot of Boston sports. Not only am I a big fan of my home teams, but as an added bonus, the announcers are often as entertaining as the game.

Watching a Bruins hockey game in the late afternoon, I started laughing. Hubs was there, but paying more attention to his cell than to the game.

Hubs: What's so funny?

Me: How much do these announcers get paid?
Hubs: Probably a lot, why?
Me: I think I could do that job.

Hubs: What makes you think that?
Me: The brilliant statistical insight from this announcer.

Hubs: What did he say?
Me: As you know, the Bruins are up 1 - 0 in the third quarter. The announcer just told us that in this season, when the Bruins are ahead by 1 in the third quarter they either win . . . or they lose.

Hubs: You should send in an application.

I've talked a few times, at this time of year, about how much damage woodpeckers do to the side of our house. When we hear them, we have to keep running outside and shooing them away, but they still do a lot of damage.

A couple of weeks ago, I heard them on the side of the house for the first time since last year. I yelled to Hubs, who went outside to scare him off.

Me: Oh, no, here we go again, thousands of dollars worth of damage.

Hubs: Every spring, they come out of the woods and attack the houses along the woods line.

Me: Listen, you better go out there and have a talk with him?

Hubs: What would you like me to tell him?

Me: That we set our clocks forward, not our calendars

Hubs: Huh?

Me: It's only March 6, there are 13 more days until spring. The least he can do is abide by the rules of engagement.

Hubs: I'll be sure to mention that. Don't get your hopes up, though.

College Boy had decided he was hungry at about 10:30 pm. There were some leftover wings in the fridge so he stuck them in the air fryer. 

He came upstairs, Hubs was sleeping and I was reading my Kindle.

College Boy: Mom, I need you to come downstairs.

Me: No, I'm in bed, I'm warm, and I'm comfortable, just tell me what you want.

College Boy: I need to show you.

Me (exasperated): Just tell me.

College Boy (sounding exasperated with me): Fine. A big flash, sparks, I got shocked . . .

I had no idea I could still run that fast. I need to try out for the Olympic track team.

Me: Love you.

Hubs: Love you more.

Me: Always.

Hubs: 24/7, 365.

Me: Well, that's hurtful, but I guess it's best I know.

Hubs: What?
Me: Apparently, there's a day I'm unloved.

Hubs: What do you mean. I said 365?

Me: It's a leap year.

Apple Jelly Ham & Cheese

I was sitting at the desk in the kitchen. I keep a large calendar there, with everyone's schedule on it, each with our own color ink. I could not figure out why the schedules weren't working out. Then I finally figured out I hadn't switched over, and was looking at February.

Me (yelling): March!

I hadn't realized that at that moment, Hubs had come upstairs from the man cave. He turns the corner and walks into the kitchen, high stepping, with a confused look on his face.

Hubs: Well fine, I'll march, but I'm getting old, not sure how long I can keep this up.

I thought about telling him I was actually talking about the month, but watching him try to keep that marching thing up was just too much fun.

 

My mom has a few friends who she's known all her life. Obviously, my sister and I know them too.

One of them, a man in his 90s, friended me on FB years ago. And although he joined, and obviously he tries, he doesn't seem to get it. Often he will post something to his wall that is clearly meant just for one person, seemingly part of a conversation they were having. 

Usually, I just ignore it and move on. But last week he made a particularly confusing post to his wall.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's not how this works.

Hubs printed out a March Madness basketball bracket for me to fill out. Out of all the teams, I only follow one, Purdue, so . . . let's just say I don't pick game winners the way most people do. It's more a matter of states I like or I've been to, or don't whole heartedly supposrt a rapist for president.

Me: I filled out my bracket. It'll make sense to no one but me.

Hubs: Pretty much everything you say makes sense to no one but you.

Me: Hey! That's mean.

Hubs: And true . . .

Me: And true.

We'd had a few warm days, and Hubs and I had been outside getting a head start on weeding in the gardens one Saturday morning.

That afternoon, we were in the den and heard a very loud noise.

Me: What is that? Sounds like it's coming from out back.

Hubs: Sounds like a chainsaw.

Me (looking out the back window): That crazy woman next door is out back weeding her garden with a chainsaw.

Hubs: You're kidding.

Me: No, she's just chopping all of her flowers and plants down.

Hubs: You should go tell her that's not how this weeding thing works.

Me: Have you recently taken out more life insurance out on me? 

Hubs (looking confused): No. Why would you ask me that?

Me: Well, let me tell you now, I'm not going out there and telling her what to do. Not on a good day, but certainly not when she's holding a chainsaw.

Our trash pickup is every Monday, but the recycle is picked up every other Monday. The day after it had been picked up, I noticed that the neighbor's trash can had been brought in, but his recycle bin was at the curb.

Me: I wonder why they have their recycle bin at the curb?

Hubs: Maybe they think it's Monday. 

On Wednesday:
Me: That's so strange, their recycle bin is still sitting at the curb.

Hubs: Maybe they think it's Monday.

This went on, on Thursday, and Friday, and Saturday, and Sunday. Now, I'm not saying I don't get days confused myself, but I've never thought every day was Monday.

Then on Monday:

Me: They brought their trash can out today, like the rest of us, but their recycle bin is still there.

Hubs: Well, it is Monday.

Me: I'll give them that. But it's the wrong Monday.

Hubs: Maybe they're just playing the odds, it'll be the right day eventually.

Me: Ah . . . the old "a broken clock is right . . ." strategy.

Hubs: Either that or the "hell with it, I'm too lazy to keep dragging it in and out" strategy. 

I know Hubs can relate to that one.

 

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

Menopausal Mother 

On the Border

Apple Jelly Ham & Cheese

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients (makes 2):

8 slices leftover spiral sliced ham (can use thick sliced deli ham)

1/3 cup apple jelly

1 TBSP sweet hot mustard

4 slices seeded rye bread

4 slices baby Swiss cheese

1 TBSP butter

Directions:
*Preheat oven to 225 degrees. Wrap the ham in tin foil and heat in the oven for 15 minutes.

*Whisk together the apple jelly and sweet hot mustard. Spread evenly onto the 4 slices of bread. Add a slice of Swiss on top of each.

*Remove the warm ham from the oven. Construct the sandwiches by dividing the ham onto 2 slices of the bread. Top with the last 2 slices, cheese side down.

*Heat the butter over medium heat in a large skillet. Add the sandwiches side by side, and heat, pressing them down with a spatula now and then, until the bottom is browned.

*Lower the temperature a notch, flip the sandwich over and cook, pressing down lightly now and then, until the other side has browned. Serve warm.

Where's my Rose?

 

 I've got a thorn in my side.

OK, it's a splinter. And it's in my foot. But that splinter in my foot has become a thorn on my side.

Let me just (try to) explain, since it's the end of November and freezing cold out, how I got a splinter in my toe. It's not exactly barefoot weather. But two things make that untrue for me. First, I use the grill for certain foods, no matter the weather, and second, the best lighting for recipe photography is out on my back deck. Sometimes I'll put shoes on, like a normal person, other times, like if it's just to flip over the Grilled Orange Balsamic Salmon, I'll get lazy and just run out there barefoot.

Which is what I did this time. And got punished with a splinter in my big toe.

Not usually a big deal, I can often just work the top layers of skin with a pin and gently ease it out. This one was more difficult. Not only did it go in straight up and down (so deeper) as opposed to at a more workable angle, but that made it harder to see.

So I worked at it. With a pin the first day, with tweezers the second, then with both together. After a shower so the skin was softer, and I even tried a nail clipper. 

Thorn on my side.

The "thorn in my side" saying has biblical roots, both in the Old Testament and New Testament. There are also nuances as to the interpretation. The thorn can be seen as a reminder from G-d to remain humble. But it has also been interpreted as a message, sent from Satan.

I'm going with the Satan thing. 

Now I'm not a proponent of bee stings, far from it. Last summer, College Boy stepped out the front door and onto a bee that was apparently on the door mat and got stung on the toe. It hurt. A lot. And then it stopped hurting. 

But a splinter that has mastered the art of subterfuge, secreting itself, and avoiding eviction? That's a problem. 

It's a problem for two reasons. One, because I can feel it when I walk, but especially because it becomes most uncomfortable when I'm standing for long periods of time. Like when cooking or baking.

Honey Mustard Chicken Casserole

 

Second, a piece of wood in your flesh can be a vehicle through which bacteria can make a trek into your blood stream. OK, maybe that's extreme, but it's possible. And clearly this little sliver has worked its way into my headspace.

So yes, (sing it with me) Poison warned us, way back in the 80s, to beware, That "every rose has its thorn." But what has become painfully clear to me, is that not every thorn, at the very least, comes with a rose.

Like the one in my side.

And my toe.

Honey Mustard Chicken Casserole         

                                                                                      ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
2 large boneless, skinless chicken breasts

5 slices deli black forest ham

2 cups fresh spinach

1/2 cup mayonnaise

3 TBSP sweet hot honey mustard

1 TBSP pepper jelly

2 TBSP honey

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

3/4 cup shredded mozzarella

Directions:
*Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grease an 8 X 11 baking dish.

*Cut the chicken into bite sized pieces. Spread into the baking dish. Chop the ham. Sprinkle over the chicken, followed by the spinach.

*Whisk together the mayonnaise, mustard, pepper jelly, honey, salt and pepper. Pour over the spinach, then top with the cheese.

*Cover and bake for 1 hour.

Five Js, Four Ways: Use Your Words

 

Today’s post is a monthly writing challenge. If you’re new here, this is how it works: my friend Diane and I picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases to submit to each other to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once. Both posts will be unique as we each have our own set of words we're working with.

At the end of this post, you'll find the link to Diane's post, be sure to check it out, see what words I sent her and how she used them.

I'm using: jeopardy ~ jump ~ jeer ~ jeep ~ julienne

                          
I could hear yelling, jeering from the open rear door of the restaurant as I pulled up to pick up my best friend after her first day at work. "Quick," she said as she jumped in my jeep," get me out of here, if that crazy head chef tells me to julienne one more zucchini, it'll be more than just my fingers that will be in jeopardy.

With the angry crowd jeering behind him, a jeep filled with armed soldiers heading for him, and a cliff in front of him, the scene clearly showed he was in jeopardy. Time to jump. And if he did it right, he thought, he wouldn't end up in as many pieces as a julienned carrot. "Be a stunt man they said," he muttered under his breath, "it'll be fun, they said . . ."

"Julianne! Julien!" mom called to the twins, "come help with these sandwiches." Nothing. "You know your jeep privileges are in jeopardy if you continue to ignore me," she added. "Sorry we didn't jump when you called, mother dear," Julien called out, admittedly in a more jeering and less loving teenaged tone. Knowing they needed the jeep to get to the party that night, Julianne was more conciliatory: "we'll do anything." "One condition," Julien clarified, "Julianne and Julien do not julienne."

Ham & Chicken Biscuit Sandwiches

She was exhausted as she took her place in the mini kitchen assigned to her. It was the last day of the amateur cooks competition, knife skills, and she'd been up all night hearing in her head the snooty judges jeer her as they scrutinized her skills. It didn't help her nerves that the damn jeep wouldn't start again and she had to jump in an Uber. Beginning with the carrot at her station, she cut, knowing she had to get this, only that one knife skill, the julienne, put her in jeopardy. She needed that prize money or no new car. It wasn't until the timer went off that she looked around at the other contestants and realized that they had started the competition today with the dice . . .

 

Here's the link to Diane's Use Your Words post:

On the Border

Ham & Chicken Biscuit Sandwiches

                                               ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 can (8 count) refrigerated biscuit dough

4 slices Swiss cheese

3 TBSP stoneground mustard

4 TBSP mayonnaise

2 tsp maple syrup

1 package (12 oz) cooked boneless ham steak (I use leftovers of my Marinated Grilled Ham Steak)

3 cooked boneless chicken breasts (I use leftovers of my White Wine Mustard Chicken)

Directions:
*Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cook the for 15 minutes. Remove from the oven and turn the oven off.

*Separate the biscuits, removing the top 1/3 of the layers and set these tops aside. Place each biscuit bottom on a piece of lightly greased tin foil, large enough to encase the biscuit once the sandwich is made.

*Cut each slice of cheese into quarters. Place one quarter on each biscuit bottom.

*Whisk together the mustard, mayonnaise, and maple syrup. Spread about 1 TBSP onto each sandwich.

*Cut the ham steak in half, then cut each half in quarters. Place one piece onto each of the sandwiches. Slice the chicken and divide onto the sandwiches, top with the remaining cheese slices, then the biscuit tops. Wrap each sandwich completely with the tin foil.

*Turn the oven back on to 325 degrees. Place the sandwiches onto a baking sheet and heat for 20 minutes.

Pitchers and Pitchers: Fly on the Wall

 

 

 

 Welcome to a monthly Fly on the Wall group post. Today 2 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 keep my cell phone turned on and beside my bed at night. If anything happened to either of the boys (and let's face it, it often does), I want them to be able to reach me.

When I get up in the morning, before I even get out of bed, I check my email to see if anything has come in over nightthat needed my attention.

The other day I woke up and although there were no new emails, when I checked my other folders, there was something in "drafts," which was strange, I had no drafts.

 

Apparently, I was busy at 3 :26 am.

 

 

I was having a tough time in the kitchen. When I come up with recipe ideas . . . let's just say that the picture in my head is quite often much prettier than the end result.

College Boy: You look unhappy, what's wrong?
Me: My cookies look like toddlers decorated them.

College Boy: I doubt that, let me see.

He looks at the cookies, then looks at me:

College Boy: Now mom, no reason to be insulting the toddlers . . .

I had made a Chocolate Raspberry Ice Cream Pie. It actually came out pretty and I was confident when it came time to take my pictures.

I took them and uploaded them so I could start editing. I was both surprised and dismayed.

Me to College Boy: Is it just me? Or do you see Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer too?

He did.

I was at home, a friend was going out shopping and texted me, apparently wanting some company.

Friend: I have to go to the outlet stores, want to come with? Or are you busy.

Me: No, I was just working on some crunches.

Friend: Oh, exercise.
Me: No, Nestles.

College Boy buys and sells rare and limited edition albums. One Thursday, he found that he had misplaced his debit card. He immediately reported it missing, but was concerned about being able to make participate in a foreign drop the next day, his other credit card will often kick out foreign purchases.

I allowed him to write down my credit card info (no storing it in his cell, that's not private, Google sees all). If his card kicked out the purchase, he'd use mine.

Me: Once you finish the transaction, I want you to ball up that piece of paper and eat it.

College Boy: Eat it.

Me: Yes.

College Boy: How about I bring it home, you can season it and fry it and serve it with dinner?

Me: Deal!

And just like that, I had another taste tester for my Cordon Bleu Subs.

Cordon Bleu Subs

I could not wait for baseball season again this year. I'm not a fan of the game itself, but I'm a die-hard Boston Red Sox fan. Even watched all of the preseason games this year.

But it wasn't really looking all that good, to me anyway. The Sox had one of their worst seasons I could remember, due to poor pitching, last year. After watching some of the preseason games, my hopes weren't high this year.

Hubs: I'm heading out to work, do you need anything while I'm out?

Me: Yeah.

Hubs: OK, what do you need?
Me: A pitcher.

Hubs: Like for water?
Me: No, like for throwing.

The next day:

Hubs: I'm heading out to work, do you need anything while I'm out?

Me: Yeah.

Hubs: OK, what do you need?
Me: A pitcher.

Hubs: Like for throwing?

Me: No, like for water.

That should keep him busy . . . or confused . . . or both.

At the very end of last month, a week into spring, I woke up to see it snowing, 2 inches on the ground. I posted to the Baking In A Tornado FB page what I thought was going on with Mother Nature:

A little later, I was looking out the front door when I started to laugh.

Hubs: What are you laughing at?
Me: Want to see the epitome of irony?
Hubs: Huh?

Me: Look down the street.

Apparently our neighbors had their spring lawn treatment done the day before. And there was the sign . . . covered with snow.

Not funny, but spine-chilling, here's something that happened that had me wondering if I'm living in a Stephen King novel:

I enjoy living in the age of electronics and convenience, but I also feel violated by the ability of web sites to track us, hear us, and target us for marketing. We have no privacy, and I think we're in dangerous territory.

My cell phone even decides what is and isn't spam, removing from me the ability to make my own decisions.

But the other day, I really freaked out:

Hubs (calling me from his cell): Sorry I missed your call.

Me: I didn't call you.

Hubs: I have a missed call from you at 9:30 this morning, I'm just now seeing it.

Me: I didn't call you at all this morning, and I was in the shower at 9:30. Hold on a second, let me look at my call history.

Yup, my cell shows a call to my husband, which I didn't make, at a time when I wasn't near my phone.

Wonder if the next thing will be unordered groceries at my front door . . .

I had checked the news, so I had the TV on, but I was ignoring it, sitting on the couch writing a blog post. I hadn't heard my friend come in.

Lynne: Bow Wow.

Me (turning to look at her): You get a new puppy?

Lynne (nodding towards the back wall): No, Bow Wow, Bow Wow.

Me: Are you telling me you identify as a dog?

Lynne (pointing to the TV): You're watching Bow Wow, the rapper.

Me: Phew, for a minute there, I thought I was going to have to look into buying you chew toys for your birthday.

Hubs comes home, the TV is on, and I'm running in place beside the couch.

Hubs: What are you doing?
Me: Running in place.

Hubs: Why?
Me: I'm exercising, I want to lose weight.

Hubs: How long have you been doing this?
Me: I don't know, maybe 5 minutes.

Hubs: How long are you going to keep it up?
Me: Until I drop from exhaustion, maybe another 5 minutes or so.

Hubs: So, 10 minutes or so. How much weight are you hoping to lose?

Me: About 25 pounds.

Hubs (walking away): Let me know how that goes . . .

 

 

 

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

Menopausal Mother

Cordon Bleu Subs

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients (makes 2 sandwiches):
2 sub rolls

1 boneless skinless chicken breast, cooked and cooled

3 TBSP mayonnaise

1 tsp sweet hot mustard

4 Ritz crackers

1 TBSP butter

2 sub rolls

6 slices meunster, provolone, and/or the cheese of your choice

8 black forest ham slices

1/2 tsp paprika

Directions:

*Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

*Chop the cooked chicken. Mix together the mayonnaise and the mustard, then add the chicken.

*Crush the crackers, melt the butter, mix together and set aside.

*Slice the cheese in half and place along the insides of the roll, covering both sides. Next, layer 4 slices of ham into the rolls, followed by the chicken. 

*Place into a baking dish, split side up. Sprinkle the cracker crumbs, then the paprika over the top.

*Cook for 20 - 25 minutes, until hot.