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.

The Rain has to Stop Somewhere

  

It's been raining here. That's an understatement. It's been like build an ark amount of rain. Our sump pump is working overtime. The spot on our lawn where it drains? Let's just say these days it resembles a bird bath. And don't get me started on the subject of my fears that it's become a mosquito breeding ground.

Good news: I don't have to water my outdoor flower pots. Bad news: all those pretty flowers could very well drown.

Every morning, I look out at the skies saying "please don't, please just don't."

Between the rain going on outside and the terrifying political news on the TV inside, it's been tough.

But yesterday was the 4th of July, Independence Day, and we were lucky enough to have a break from the rains. We were able to cook out, eat our ice ceam pie on the front porch hearing the bangs and booms, watching the skies over our neighborhood light up with fireworks.

It was celebratory, but hampered by the fear in the back of my mind that, with the possibility of a dictator taking power and putting a (further) stranglehold on our freedoms, this could be our last celebration of independence, of everything this country was meant to be.

And now, today, well, you know. "Please don't, please just don't."

All of this rain has brought back a memory from when I was little. Something unusual. Unusual to me, at least. 

I was probably around 9 years old and we were visiting my great aunt and uncle in West Palm Beach as we did each winter. I had walked all the way past the fountain and up the long rock driveway to the street. Just as I got there, it had started to rain, a late morning shower. But as I looked to the side, I realized that it wasn't raining. Strange. As far as I could see down one side of the road it was raining. All the way down the other it was dry.

I took a step out of the rain, into the rain, out of the rain. And in that moment, I was visually aware that, of course, the rain has to stop somewhere. I mean it happens all the time when you're in a car driving through the rain, then, if you drive far enough, come out of the storm. But this was different. I was there. Standing in that exact spot where the rain just stopped. 

Under the cloud or out into the sunshine, the choice was mine.

Strawberry Biscoff Ice Cream Pie

So yes, I know that any rain to fall here would eventually stop here. "The sun will come out tomorrow," and all that crap. But I also know that at this moment, somewhere, there is a line. The rain has to stop somewhere. 

And today, boosted by the celebration of Independence Day and all that our freedom means to so many of us, I have hope that wherever that line may be, someone is making the choice to take just one step to the left, out from under that dark cloud and into the sunlight. 

Not just for themself, but for us all. 

Strawberry Biscoff Ice Cream Pie

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

4 TBSP butter

1 TBSP cookie butter

1 package Biscoff cookies (32 cookies)

2 TBSP sugar

4 cups strawberry ice cream

2 strawberries

1 cup heavy cream

2 TBSP powdered sugar

3 TBSP strawberry syrup

OPT: the 3 remaining cookies and/or sliced strawberries for garnish

Directions:

*Melt the butter and cookie butter in the microwave and set aside.

*Preheat oven to 375 degrees and grease a deep dish pie plate.

*Crush 25 of the Biscoff cookies into crumbs, then mix with the sugar and melted butter/cookie butter mixture. Press into the bottom and partially up the sides of the pie plate. Bake for 6 minutes, refrigerate to cool completely.

*While the crust is cooling, place the ice cream in a large bowl on the counter for 10 - 15 minutes to soften.

*Chop 4 of the remaining Biscoff cookies into chunks. Hull and chop the strawberries.

*Beat the heavy cream until soft peaks form. Add the powdered sugar and strawberry syrup and beat until stiff peaks hold. Reserve about 1/2 cup in the refrigerator for garnish.

*Mix the chopped cookies and strawberries into the softened ice cream, then fold in the remaining whipped cream. Spread into the crust and freeze for 1/2 hour. 

*Top with the reserved whipped cream. garnish with the remaining cookies and or additional strawberries, if desired. Freeze for at least 2 hours (best if frozen overnight) before serving.

Even the Breathing

 

It appears we need some clarification in this country, of the definition kind. Specifically of the term "pro-life."

And, at this moment in time, this angry, divided, religion bastardizing, self-absorbed, moment in time, I feel compelled to separate the lies from the truth. 

Listen, pro-life is a noble sentiment. But in order to claim the title, you cannot pick and choose. Which, just so you know, is what has me so angry, the use of the term without a commitment to the entirety of what it actually means.

If you are pro-life, you are for:

~ supporting the LGBTQ+ community in hopes of lowering their suicide rate.

~ ceasing the sale of assault weapons to citizens. Period.

~ enacting federal basic gun safety laws, prioritizing lives over all else.

~ ending forced unwanted, unsustainable, and maternal life-threatening pregnancies.

~ disavowing the stigma forced on those suffering from mental health conditions, and providing them with the medical care they need.

~ rejecting bigotry and bullying, especially from those we elect to represent us. There are NOT good people on both sides. 

~ programs that provide basic life sustaining needs to those unable to attain them on their own, like low-income housing, medical care, and nourishment for the food insecure.

Stuffed Taco Pork Tenderloin

 

If this is not your pro-life stance, all of it, not just cherry-picked issues, you are not pro-life. Quite simply, it is not just about pregnancy versus abortion. 

And while we're at it, let's go there: the pregnancy versus abortion issue is not at all simple. There are nuances, extenuating circumstances, a whole lot of grey areas that necessitate evaluation by, and consultation with, a medical professional. It is not an issue that can be mandated with the broad brush of "allow or disallow." Not if you are a compassionate human being. Not if you are truly pro-life.

In order to be pro-life, you must believe that there is an inherent societal responsibility towards those who are actually . . . you know . . . out there breathing.

Stuffed Taco Pork Tenderloin        

                                                                                      ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
about 1 3/4# pork tenderloin

salt and pepper

3/4 cup brown rice

2 TBSP salsa

1 TBSP chopped onion

1 TBSP chopped jalapenos

2 TBSP oil

1 tsp taco seasoning

OPT: serve with my fresh Pico de Gallo

Directions:

*Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Cover the bottom and sides of a 9 X 13 baking dish with heavy foil.

*Trim the tenderloin, butterfly it, and pound it to about 1/2 inch thick. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.

*Cook the rice according to package directions. Mix in the salsa, chopped onions, and chopped jalapoenos. Spread onto the pork to about 1 inch from the sides.

*Using the long sides, roll the pork up and secure with either cooking twine or toothpicks inserrted at 45 degree angles to form an "X" along the seam.

*Mix together the oil and taco seasoning. Pour over the meat and, using your hands, rub into the top, sides, and bottom.

*Place the tenderloin into the prepared baking dish, seam side down, and bake for about 45 minutes, until the internal temperature reaches 145 degrees. Allow to rest for 5 minutes before removing the twine or toothpicks and slicing.

*OPT: serve with my fresh Pico de Gallo.

Screen for Humanity

 

It started with a distraction. 

Yes, something just that simple. It could have ended right there, faded away without more than a passing thought, but it didn't. Because, as I said, this was just the start.

In the morning, I happened to look up while in PurDude's bedroom.

But then that afternoon brought a text from College Boy that took my breath away. And had me looking at the morning's distraction with new eyes.

And the evening? In the evening it was the national news.

So, the beginning:

That morning, I'd brought towels and toiletries into PurDude's room. I was leaving them on his bed as he'd be coming home soon. Why I didn't just leave it all there and walk out, I don't know. But I sat down on his bed and looked up at the bulletin board that had been on his wall for years. At the very top was a commendation from his job. He'd been a lifeguard in high school, and had continued in the summers when he was home from college.

He had saved a life. 

I hate hearing that fact diminished by those who say that first responders specifically (but lifeguards and many others too) are just doing their jobs when they save a life. They may just be doing their jobs, but these are jobs that they chose, study for, train for, and practice. They know that an integral part of what they will do is to take action when someone's life is at risk. It is an awesome responsibility.

Truth is, someone is still walking and living and doing all things large and small in their life because at their moment of need, someone came to their aid. There is enormity in the miracle of that, brought about by people who value humanity enough to take on protecting it.

In a strange coincidence, that afternoon brought me the exact opposite story. One of someone no longer walking and living and doing all things large and small in their life. It wasn't because first responders hadn't come to his aid, they did. It just wasn't enough.

College Boy sent me a picture that he took outside his work at lunchtime. "Awful car crash right by my work," he texted, "see the helicopter, someone is getting airlifted. I think someone died." We texted back and forth a bit, both of us deeply affected, expressing how heartbreaking it is to see that kind of response, understanding the seriousness of the situation, and hoping everyone would be OK.

They weren't. A motorcyclist was airlifted to the hospital but didn't make it.

Neither of us knew the people involved in the crash, but that didn't matter. When you are witness to a moment like this, even if it's just through viewing the scope of the aftermath, how do you not take a moment to acknowledge the frailty of life? The reality of the abrupt ending of a human life on an anonymous Friday at lunchtime? How do you not empathize, right down to your bones, with the family and friends about to get that phone call? Our humanity demands it.

Juxtaposed with that evening's proof of the pervasive rise of the opposite, man's inhumanity to man.

We were out on the deck having a drink and some appetizers. It was supposed to be a relaxing end to the day. 

Sweet Hot Mango Dip

 

But I had just shut off the national news. In the past month, we've been aware of not just the growing number of mass shooting, but additionally, the shocking rash of executions of kids guilty of just one thing, making a mistake. As with mass shootings, each one is an assault not just on our way of life but, more personally on our sense of safety and our emotional health.

People, everyday citizens, are shooting children for ringing their doorbell, turning around in their driveway, mistaking a like car for their own, or allowing a basketball to roll onto a neighbor's lawn. 

I'm a gun control advocate. No, we don't want to take away all guns, but we do want, we demand, responsible gun ownership. Actually, I take that back, I DO want to take all assault weapons from citizens. For all other gun sales (including shows and private sales) there must be laws, national standards, including screening, mandatory safety, instruction, and regular reviews.

The first step is screening. We need to screen for criminal records, and specific (but not all) mental health conditions. As much we, as a society, like to blame the mentally ill, truth is that not all shooters are mentally ill, and very few people with mental health diagnoses (about 25% of our adult population) are violent. 

But what the morning, afternoon, and evening of just one day brought me to is a question.

If a fundamental respect for human life, all human life, is not an involuntary function in someone, like breathing and blinking, then I need to know.

Basic humanity. How do you screen for that?

Sweet Hot Mango Dip         

                                                                                      ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1/2 cup onion and chive cream cheese, softened

1 cup sour cream

1/4 cup pepper jelly

1 ripe mango

chips or crackers for serving

Directions:
*Whisk together the cream cheese, sour cream, and pepper jelly.

*Peel the mango and remove the pit. Slice a few pieces and refrigerate for garnish.

*Chop the remaining mango (small pieces) and fold into the dip, cover, and refrigerate for an hour.

*Top with the reserved mango slices and serve with chips or crackers of your choice.

Only Loves: Word Counters

 

Counting my words again.

Today my fellow Word Counters and I are sharing our monthly group post. Each month one group member picks  a number between 12 and 50. All participating bloggers are then challenged to write something (or a few somethings, as the case may be) using that exact number of words. Today we all share what we came up with. 

This month's number is 24.  

It was chosen by Mimi of Messymimi's Meanderings.

As I've been doing in these Word Counters posts, I've chosen a theme and am using my word count multiple times in keeping with the theme. This month I've chosen the theme Only Loves.

 

~ Happy Valentine's Day! Taking a break from news (politics) to acknowledge loves, small and large. Looking for love in all the right places . . . everywhere.

~ My older son buys and sells limited edition and rare albums. I love seeing his face when he's scored at a limited edition drop.

~ And hearing the throaty growl of my younger son's car pulling into the driveway after a loooong drive home. And that very first hug.

~ An afternoon in the den with my family, hot drink in hand, a fire roaring in the fireplace, and whatever game in the background.

~ Hubs shoveling so I can grill in the winter. And just how delicious a grilled steak is when you haven't grilled in a while.

~ Those moments after the cleaners leave, before anyone else comes home. The house looks clean, smells clean, and I enjoy it in silent bliss.

~ Knowing I've made a favorite when I put dinner on the table and someone's eyes light up. Watching that meal disappear is validating, satisfying.

~ Talking recipes with my mom. Updating a recipe to make it easier. And one that's successful on the first try (and the pictures, too).

Sausage & Broccoli Penne

 

~ That first silent snow clinging to the tree branches, pristinely white. Those first flower buds in the spring. Catching sight of inchworms, praying mantis, hummingbirds.

 

~ Finding what I want on sale, hearing that certain song, snagging the cl0sest parking spot, a surprise visit, finding what I'd thought was lost.

~ An afternoon nap, a freshly washed sweatshirt, fuzzy socks, and all those little things that bring an unexpected smile to an otherwise ordinary day.

~The end of a productive day, meals served, dishes put away, coffee maker set up for morning, Kindle is loaded and warm bed awaits. 

 

Here are links to the other Word Counters posts:

On the Border 

Messymimi’s Meanderings 

Sausage & Broccoli Penne        
                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
1 box (12 oz) penne pasta

2 TBSP olive oil

1/2 onion, sliced

1/2 green pepper, sliced

4 oz mushrooms, sliced

3 cloves, garlic

5 oz smoked sausage: smoked links, kielbassa, linguica, andouille (I use the cajun style)

1 can (14.5 oz) Italian style stewed tomatoes with garlic, basil, and oregano

1/4 cup white wine

1 tsp salt

1/2 tsp pepper

1 tsp Italian seasoning

1 cup broccoli florets

Directions:

*Cook the penne to al dente. Drain and keep warm.

*While the pasta is cooking. In a large skillet over medium heat, heat the olive oil. Once hot, add the onion, green pepper, mushrooms, and garlic. Cook and stir for 5 minutes. 

*Slice the cooked sausage on the bias and add to the pan along with the stewed tomatoes, white wine, salt, pepper, and Italian seasoning. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer for 15 minutes, stirring now and then.

*Stir in the broccoli and cook for 2 minutes. Add the warm penne to the pan, toss with the other ingredients for about a minute or two. Remove from the heat and serve.

 

My Cup of Tea: Monthly Poetry Group

 

 

Last Friday of the month is for

Monthly Poetry Group to rhyme.

Diane, Mimi, and I take turns,

"Royalty" is 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.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Cup of Tea

 

Imagine being royal, 

in charge of all you see.

When you're out in public,

all people take a knee. 

Money's not an issue,

you'll not give it a thought,

And standing in line? Never

Your desires, to you, are brought.

Clothing, all couture, of course,

and jewels adorn your crown.

Rubies, sapphires, garnets,

in riches you could drown.

Chefs are at your beck and call,

your whims prepared for you.

Best part, there are others,

to clean up when you're all through. 

 

Hash Brown Waffles 

 

 

 

But . . .

The royal life is strictly ruled,

pinky out when at high tea.

And you're required to be there,

(although tea is blech to me).

Eyes are always on you,

and pictures taken too.

No going out in sweatpants

or hair stuck together like glue.

And . . .

I have so many memories

times when I was young,

skinny dipping at the pool, 

catching snowflakes on my tongue.

Skipping school with besties,

to the mountains or the lake.

And maybe getting grounded?
It's a risk you know you take.

Royals can't sneak out windows 

to a party, (well, without a boat).

Arriving's not an option,

if you've landed in the moat.

No cottage on Cape Cod for them, 

friends wandering in and out,

paying for it spending nights

serving ale and stout.

So . . .

Though maybe fun for just a day,

the royal life might be.

The other 364 days?

Just not my cup of (blech) tea.

 

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

 

On the Border

Messymimi's Meanderings

 

 

Hash Brown Waffles        

                                                                                      ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
1 bag (20 oz) shredded potatoes

2 green onions, sliced

1/2 red pepper, chopped

2 eggs

3/4 cup flour

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

3/4 cup shredded sharp cheddar

OPT: serve with my Devil's Applesauce or sour cream

Directions:

*Pat the shredded potatoes until they are as dry as you can get them. Place them in a bowl and mix in the green onion and red pepper, then the eggs. Once the eggs are fully incorporated, mix in the flour, salt, and pepper, and last, the cheese.

*Grease your waffle iron and heat according to manufacturer's directions.

*Once the waffle iron is ready, scoop about 3/4 cup of the potato mixture out of the bowl and onto the bottom plate. Spread around quickly and close. When the waffle iron indicates it's done, check to be sure the hash brown is crisp and the center fully cooked. Remove and keep warm.

*Grease the waffle iron again, reheat and repeat until all the hash browns are cooked. Makes 5 large (8 inch) waffles.

*OPT: serve topped with my Devil's Applesauce or sour cream.