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.

Look Again: Monthly Poetry Group

 

Last Friday of the month is for
Monthly Poetry Group to rhyme.
Diane, Mimi, and I take turns,

Through a Looking Glass, 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.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Look Again

If I looked through a looking glass

what would I see?

Seems to be an older woman,

looking back at me. 

My curly hair is going grey,

some wrinkles on my face,

squinting to see clearly, I'm 

aging without much grace.

I may eat a bit too much,

I'm exercising less.

Not putting enough effort into,

new styles, when I dress.

 

S'mores Ice Cream Pie

But instead of just looking,

and judging what I see,

if I went through the looking glass,

might I disagree?

If I went through that looking glass,

could it set me free?

A whole new perspective,

now what would that be?

Viewing myself differently,

perchance I would see,

each line and grey's a lesson,

it's OK to look like me.

 

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

 

On the Border

Messymimi's Meanderings

 

S'mores Ice Cream Pie

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
5 graham crackers

5 chocolate graham crackers

3 TBSP sugar

5 TBSP butter, melted

3 cups chocolate ice cream

4 chocolate covered graham cracker cookies

2/3 cup mini marshmallows

3/4 cup heavy cream

2 tsp powdered sugar

2 tsp cocoa powder

1 small chocolate bar, shaved

6 regular sized marshmallows, halved

Directions:

*Grease a 10 inch deep dish pie plate. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

*Crush the graham crackers and the chocolate graham crackers. Mix with the sugar and melted butter. Press into the bottom and partially up the sides of the pie plate. Bake for 6 minutes, refrigerate to cool completely.

*Once the crust has cooled, place the ice cream in a large bowl and set aside on the counter for about 15 minutes to start to soften.

*While the ice cream is softening, chop the cookies, cut the mini marshmallows in half and set aside.

*Whip the heavy cream until soft peaks form. Add the powdered sugar and cocoa powder and whip until firm peaks hold.

*Mix the chopped cookies and mini marshmallows into the ice cream, then fold in the whipped cream and pour into the crust.

*Decorate with the chocolate shavings and marshmallow halves. Freeze for an hour before serving. Store leftovers, covered, in the freezer.

 

 

An Unintentional Turn On

 

 

Wet. 

 

Not as in damp or moist, more like drenched, sopping, soaked. You could even quite accurately say saturated. 

 

But I guess that's what happens with a turn on. Or I should say when you turn yourself on. And you, apparently, like it so much you decide to do it frequently. Sometimes more openly in the afternoon. But also stealthily, in the dead of night when there's less of a chance of being caught. Always outdoors. Right in the side yard, as a matter of fact.

 

Continuing despite Hubs' diligent attempts to rectify the situation.

There are repercussions, of course. Not only will we have to pay the price financially, but we have also done a pretty good job of aggravating the neighbors in the process.

As unhappy as those neighbors are though, I have to admit that I am not ashamed. Actually, due to a lot of their deliberate behaviors, the reckless disregard of others during the year of covid, I figure they have more to be embarrassed about than I do. Even now.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. Which was at the end of last month, still spring according to the calendar, but summer according to the blazing heat. We had made the customary adjustments to our lives. I'd stopped, as much as possible, heating up the kitchen with the oven, preferring to cook dinner on the grill. We'd closed up the house and had the air conditioning running 24/7. Hubs had turned on the sprinkler system to keep the lawn from getting too brown. I'd also started making more no-bake, refreshing, frozen desserts.

 

 

Brownie Crusted Mint Ice Cream Pie

 

 

At the time, Hubs had gone through his surgery and it went pretty well, he was recovering and already off of the pain meds. My car issue had been resolved without us having to take out a second mortgage on our house. The contractor was coming to work on the siding of our chimney that the woodpeckers had damaged and although I wasn't looking forward to that bill, I was glad to at least know the holes in our siding would be repaired. All told, I was feeling fairly optimistic. 

 

Big mistake.

Because as soon as I start to breathe easy, you know full well the sky is about to fall. 

As I said, Hubs had the sprinkler system going and because it had been so hot, the lawn was pretty dry. Distressed, actually, and starting to brown a bit. In the late afternoon one day, he turned on the system. We have different stations so although each section is only watered for a few hours, the entire process takes many hours. On this particular day Hubs decided to just turn on the front and side stations, leaving the back for the next day.

Later that evening I was watching TV and realized that I was hearing water running. Worried that we had a toilet issue, I went to investigate. Eventually I figured out that the side sprinklers were still on. That can't be right. 

I called to Hubs and he confirmed that they should have shut off hours ago. He checked the sprinkler system box, which was correctly set to the timing Hubs had designated, but the side sprinkler heads were still happily spouting away. Hubs tried to shut the heads off, no change. He tried to shut the whole system off, no change. He even unplugged the sprinkler control box but the water just kept coming.

It was turned on, it liked it, and it was not going to turn off.

 

Eventually, in desperation, Hubs had to go down to the basement and shut off the water supply to the whole system. 

 

 

 

 

Fast forward to the next day. Hubs turned the water to the system back on and we sheepishly peeked out the front door. No rogue sprinkler heads had risen. Hubs turned on the back sprinklers and before we went to bed we checked to see that the system had done its job and shut itself off. All was well. 

 

Or was it?

 

I got up the next morning and was just leaving the kitchen with a cup of coffee when, guess what happened. You know, right? I could hear water running. I didn't bother checking toilets this time but ran right to the front door and saw exactly what I thought I'd see. The lawn was drenched, sopping, soaked. You could even quite accurately say saturated. The sidewalk and the driveway were being used as a bird bath. The neighbor's yards had puddles and the water trail ran down the street and probably half way to Chicago.

 

Sometime, in the dead of night when there was less chance of being caught, those determined side yard sprinklers had turned themselves on and were happily doing their naughty thing right through to morning.

And Hubs and I? We were decidedly unsatisfied.

 

 

Brownie Crusted Mint Ice Cream Pie        

                                                      ©www.BakingInATornado.com

 
Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 cup frozen whipped cream topping

1/2 tsp mint extract

1 TBSP chocolate syrup

1 tsp baking cocoa 

1 container (48 oz) mint chocolate chip ice cream

8 brownies, homemade or store bought

20 chocolate covered mint cookies

12 Andes mints

 

OPT: additional cookies for decorating

 

Directions:
*Thaw frozen whipped cream topping in the refrigerator, per package instructions. Place 1 cup of the topping into a bowl and mix in the mint extract, chocolate syrup and baking cocoa. Cover and refrigerate. You can refreeze the remaining frozen whipped topping in the container.

*Grease a 9 inch pie plate. Mash the brownies, then press firmly into the bottom and partially up the sides of the pie plate. Freeze.

*Place the ice cream in a large bowl on the counter.

*Chop the mint cookies and the mint candies. Once the ice cream is soft enough to work with, mix the cookie and candy pieces into the ice cream. Spread evenly into the brownie crust. Freeze for at least an hour.

*Pipe the whipped topping onto the pie. Decorate with additional cookies if desired. Freeze at least an hour. Store any leftovers in the freezer.