Solitary Games and Community Benefits: 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 37. It was chosen by Me!

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'm talking about Solitary Games and Community Benefits. 

~ I play word and number games. You know this if you're a frequent visitor to this blog. And my Baking In A Tornado Facebook page. I even share one I've made up myself. They serve multiple purposes.

~ They exercise the brain, especially {{ahem}} as you age. There is the satisfaction of completing a challenge, and the temporary mental respite from politics, daily mass shootings. They can also provide insight into how we approach life.

~ Strategy matters, developed over time, based on experience, specific to the game. And discipline to stick to it, when lulled into looking for an easier way when, in fact the whole picture is not yet in view.

~ But rigidity can be your enemy. If the whole picture just isn't coming into focus it's not that sticking to a strategy is always right, but acquiring the understanding of when to abandon it can be key.

~ You knew I was going to work recipes in here somewhere, right? Rigidity is required when baking. Don't follow the rules, your cake won't rise. But cooking? Go ahead and change ingredients, cooking methods, as you go.

Turkey Tenderloin Bake

~ It's exciting, especially in a math game, to uncover all the pieces. Don't be deceived, having all of the information can be limiting. These are the pieces, you can add nothing else, to make it work. 

~ Conversely (hello, parenting), getting none, or very few of the pieces can initially be discouraging. But if you look closely, not just at what you have, but what you've eliminated, there's actually a wealth of information there.

~ I share game results twice a day on my Facebook page, morning games and evening games. Other players add the results of whatever games they play to the thread, and suddenly solitary games are a shared experience.

~ The last thing I want to mention is the most important. Build (or join) communities, share strategies, applaud successes, commiserate with failures. Build others up, look to them for support. No, I'm not talking games any more. 

Here are links to the other Word Counters posts:

On the Border 

Messymimi’s Meanderings 

Turkey Tenderloin Bake       

                                                                                      ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

about 1 1/2# turkey breast tenderloin

salt and pepper

1 bag (20 oz) frozen mixed stir fry vegetables, partially thawed

1/3 cup ranch salad dressing

1/3 cup sweet chili sauce

1 clove garlic, minced

1/2 tsp ginger paste

Directions:

*Grease a 9 X 13 baking pan. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

*Slice the turkey into 1 inch slices. Season both sides with salt and pepper, and arrange in the center of the pan, leaving a border all around for the vegetables.

*Arrange the vegetables all around the turkey. Sprinkle the vegetables with salt and pepper.

*Whisk together the ranch dressing, sweet chili sauce, garlic, and ginger. Set aside 1/3 cup of this sauce. Pour the remaining sauce over the turkey.

*Bake for 50 to 60 minutes. Turkey must be completely cooked.

*Heat the reserved 1/3 cup of the sauce in a sauce pan or the microwave until hot (do not boil), pour over or serve beside the turkey.

 

Skating in a Functional Society

 

College Boy got a new skateboard recently. That happened quite frequently when he was growing up, and although I fully supported his love of the sport, all those past skateboard purchases didn't make me smile quite as much as this one, Why? Now that he's in his 20s, he's rarely skated over the past almost 10 years. It used to bring him so much joy, the culture, the friendships, the daring, the drive to almost defy physics, the challenge, the freedom.

 

Now back in the day, many parents discouraged, even forbid their kids from skating. Not me, I encouraged it. He loved it, spent his time outdoors and active. I got involved too, buying him books, taking he and his friends to skate parks, even got us all tickets one year to Tony Hawk's Boom Boom Huckjam.

 

I'm not going to say there weren't a few issues. Like his response to me telling him I did not want him plastering skateboard stickers in the house: 

 

 

 

Or the time I was changing out the trucks on one of his boards and a bolt popped off and hit the living room wall. Left a divot, which I can see to this day. 

 

And then there was the last day of elementary school, when he tail dropped his desk. Yes, of course there's photographic evidence. {{sigh}}. 

 

 

 

I tell you all of this as background to a story, the actual point I want to make today. About skateboarding, about life, and about being a member of a functional society.

But first, one more bit of background information:

 

When the boys were growing up, we were that house. You know the one, where all the kids congregate after school and on weekends. They all knew there'd be a snack (of course), supervision, and at dinner time there would either be a ride home or a seat at the table. 

 

Raspberry Lime Refrigerator Bars (no bake)

 

 

It was on one of those afternoons, school was out and kids were playing all around in and out of the house. College Boy came in and he was pretty upset. He had been skating with friends out front, was doing an ollie when his skateboard went down the drain.

Down the drain? What does that mean? I went out front to see his friends standing around looking. At the sewer drain.

 

And to make matters worse . . . there was this:

 

 

 

Drains to waterways. That has to be bad. I knew he loved his skateboard, personally designed and broken in. Yes, they can be replaced, but only when you're ready, and even then, you hold onto the old ones. They represent newly learned tricks, newly explored parks.

But it was gone, and I couldn't do anything about it. Until someone realized that it wasn't quite gone, not completely. Looking through a hole in the manhole cover you could see it, sitting on a ledge.

That's when it all began. The retrieval mission. Kids from inside and behind the house came to see what was going on. A neighbor, in middle school at the time came out to see what the commotion was all about. He got his dad, who started looking for something use to pry the manhole cover up. But it was stuck. Someone suggested a sledge hammer might loosen the edges of the manhole cover.

People started gathering, coming from up and down the street. Parents were coming outside, cars were even stopping. Kids whose parents came to pick them up were refusing to leave. There were suggestions, new things to try, encouragement and support.

I had actually gone into the house and was coming back out when I heard clapping, and a cheer. The young neighbor had laid down on the ground by the thin opening to the drain, had someone holding his feet as he slithered halfway into the drain and eventually stretched far enough to get his hands on the skateboard.

 

 

Everyone there that day knew that as inconsequential as a skateboard may be, it was not inconsequential to the skateboarder.

Even in what we may personally consider the least significant of circumstances, in a functional society, even in this microcosm of one, there are others to consider, and there roles to play. And in order to be successful, the role we might normally take on, specific to the situation, may need to change.

I know that I have been the good samaritan, I have been the suggester, the supporter, and I've been that skateboarder. And there have even been times when I've been the skateboard, feeling like I was down the drain and headed for the waterway.

Not only am I glad to see my son once again gliding down the road, but I'm grateful to have been reminded of that afternoon so long ago, when a whole bunch of people came together, took on a role, and played a part, all just to help a kid who'd lost his skateboard.

 

 

Raspberry Limeade Refrigerator Bars        

                                                                                      ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
1 box cinnamon graham crackers

8 oz frozen raspberries

1 (8 oz) block cream cheese, softened

6 oz raspberry yogurt

1 TBSP sweetened lime juice

1 1/2 cups heavy cream

1/2 cup powdered sugar

1 packet (.1 oz) limeade drink mix powder

1 tsp lime zest

Directions:
*Lightly grease a 9 X 13 baking dish. Arrange 9 of the cinnamon graham crackers in a single layer into the bottom of the dish, break the crackers as needed to cover the bottom.

*Cut 8 of the raspberries in half and store in the freezer for garnish. Coarsely chop the remaining raspberries so you have pieces of all different sizes.

*Beat together the cream cheese, yogurt, and lime juice. Set aside.

*In a separate bowl, beat the heavy cream until soft peaks form. Add the powdered sugar, limeade powder, and lime zest. Beat until stiff peaks hold. Fold the whipped cream mixture into the cream cheese mixture, then fold in the raspberry pieces.

*Spread about 1/3 of the filling mixture evenly onto the graham crackers in the dish. Top with another layer of 9 cinnamon graham crackers, another 1/3 of the filling mixture, the last 9 graham crackers, and the last of the filling mix.

*Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 4 hours.

*To serve, slice and top each slice with a frozen raspberry half.

Autumn Lessons

 

 

 It started about a month ago. Right around Halloween. Autumn was already long here, but before then it had been in name only. Now, it was in temperature as well. After waking rolled up in a ball with my head under the covers three mornings in a row, I finally gave in and turned the heat on in the house. Hubs shut down the sprinkler system and switched prominent garage status from the lawn mower to the snow blower. 

 

The leaves were turning color and falling. And due to a simple decision about a screen, I'd seen something in the yard. Something that compelled me to go out and take a picture. While there, I saw something else, just as noteworthy, and snapped a picture of that as well.

 

I wasn't sure what I'd do with the pictures, but their presence had felt important to me somehow. Embodiment of life lessons type importance. So I did what I always do, just let it be, let it germinate, tell me what I wanted to do with those pictures, to say about them.

 

Just for context, although many of you who read this blog regularly already know, let me just say this:

 

I grew up in New England. Fall is beautiful there. I've been on the Kancamangus Highway, seen the rolling mountains bursting with the colors of the season, reds and yellows and browns and burnt oranges and even greens all decorate both sides of the road.

 

Living in the Midwest, I always laugh when people who've never been anywhere else talk about the beauty of the Fall leaves. They have no idea. This, my friends, is nothing.

 

 

 

My house backs up to woods. Although, when I venture out, there are a few different colored leaves on trees here and there, what I get is just green, yellow and brown. Not that those aren't perfectly fine colors, but they are one-note, and I'm someone who's heard the symphony.

I wrote a blog post right about that time, published just a couple of days ago, called I Can See Clearly Now. I talked about the difference when we took the screen out of our kitchen window, the sharpness of the view. I credit that new clarity for, while working on a recipe, thinking that I had caught something out of the corner of my eye. 

Sweet Potato Mix Rolls

 

It was just a quick glimpse. The wind was gently blowing and leaves were falling. The lawn was not yet dormant, but was covered in a brown and yellow carpet. But when that wind blew, did I see a variation along the woods line? A deviation from the norm?

Truth is, had I not been so used to my monochromatic view, I would never have paid attention to the flash of color, even seen it, perhaps, let alone gone out to investigate. I wouldn't have been treated to the lesson embodied by nature, nonconformity is noteworthy. There is beauty in difference. Highlighted, no doubt by the juxtaposition of that difference among all that conformity.

There it is. Can you see it? Way over on the far left? Red. Hanging out there, just being red.

 

And had I not been out in the back yard acknowledging, documenting, that difference, I never would have taken that second picture. 

 

 

There among the dead leaves and half dormant, wilting plants, stood one Daylilly. On one single stock, one single hearty, fully formed flower that, despite the odds, was determined to have its one single day in the sun. 

 

Perseverance, determination, they can pay off. You can't know unless you try. That's what I got from that little yellow flower.

 

But for me, the main lesson, one we desperately need to acknowledge in this country, is what those red leaves so beautifully personified, just by being the only thing they could be. There is beauty in diversity.

 

Sweet Potato Mix Rolls       

                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 package (5.6 oz) Betty Crocker Homestyle Sweet Potato Mix

1 1/4 cup milk

1 cup hot water

4 TBSP butter, divided

2 1/4 cups flour, divided

3 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp allspice

 

Directions:

*NOTE: this recipe calls for a package of sweet potato mix, this recipe does not use the entire prepared mix.
*Prepare the packaged potato mix with the milk, hot water, and 3 TBSP of the butter in the microwave according to package instructions. Set aside, uncovered, for 5 minutes.

*Cover a kneading area with 1/4 cup flour. In a medium sized bowl, whisk together the remaining 2 cups of flour with the baking powder, salt, and allspice.

*Cover a baking sheet with parchment paper.

*Add 2 cups of the potato mixture to the flour mixture. Mix just until incorporated, then, on the floured kneading area, knead for just 1 minute.

*Form the dough into 12 balls, place on the baking sheet and allow to rest for 30 minutes.

*Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Melt the remaining 1 TBSP butter and brush onto the tops of the rolls.

*Bake for 20 minutes.

Nursery Rhymes Crimes

 

 

 I fell down a rabbit hole today. Turns out some rabbit holes can ruin your childhood.

You know what I'm talking about, an article catches your eye, which leads you to another article, which leads you to a thought, which leads you to a different article and the next thing you know, it's an hour later and your somewhere in a completely different rabbit hole. Like some weird game of single player telephone.

Where I started was with (yet another) article about whether or not video games beget violence. I read that they do. Then I read that they don't. I read that they could and I read that they couldn't. Nothing I read changed my point of view, that what each child should or shouldn't be exposed to (and when) needs to be based on that particular child's emotional make up and maturity level.

But what sent me down that second rabbit hole was one little line in one of the articles about the way we grew up before video games. About how we wreaked havoc on the neighborhood with games of War and Cowboys and Indians. Not exactly peaceful play, yet we didn't all grow up to be serial killers.

But wait, we were also raised on nursery rhymes, right? Those fun little ditties read to and taught to the youngest of the young. Lovely, sweet, harmless nursery rhymes. That's their reputation. And they stick with us, too. I remember my mom pointedly reciting to me (quite often, I'm afraid): 

There was a little girl, 

had a little curl, 

right in the middle of her forehead.

When she was good, 

she was very good indeed,

but when she was bad, she was horrid.

Well, maybe not exactly sweet. In fact, in retrospect, this curly haired girl thinks it may have been a tad passive aggressive. So down that nursery rhyme rabbit hole I went, and ended up somewhere I never expected. Violence.

 

Violence? You want to talk violence? Do any of us have any idea what we were running around saying? Passing on as innocent to our children? Some of those nursery rhymes will curl your hair. And not just violence, those verses are a veritable cesspool of insults and abuse.

Now I can't do anything about video games, coding is way above my pay grade, but I sure as hell have some major editing makeover suggestions for those nursery rhymes.

 

Like this one. Violence is bad enough in general, but against the disabled? How's that for a lesson to children?

 

Three blind mice, three blind mice. 

See how they run. See how they run.

They all ran after the farmer's wife,

who cut off their tails with a carving knife.

Did you ever see such a sight in your life,

as three blind mice?

 

When it could easily have been:

 

Three vision impaired mice, three vision impaired mice.

See how they compensate. See how they compensate.

They all ran after the farmer's wife,

who gave them the cheese to lessen their strife.

Kindness we all should have in our life,

like three vision impaired mice.

 

And spousal abuse? Kidnapping? What were they thinking?

 

Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,

had a wife but couldn't keep her,

he put her in a pumpkin shell,

and there he kept her very well.

 

When they could have easily taught a lesson to men about marriage, and to women about self-worth:

Peter, Peter, vegetarian eater,

had a wife but was a cheater.

Started treating her with respect,

and she chose to stay, completely unchecked.

 

 

Then there's body shaming, face breaking and poor sportsmanship. Not to mention, although I suck at poetry, even I could do better than rhyming race with pillowcase. This

 

Fat and skinny had a race, 

up and down the pillowcase.

Fat fell down and broke his face,

and skinny won the race.

could be a lesson in kindness and friendship:

Stout and angular had a race,

round the diamond towards third base.

Stout fell, and angular stayed in place,

so they could tie the race. 

This one not only features ageism, but what the hell, why not add in a little child abuse: 

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.

Had so many children, she didn't know what to do.

She gave them some broth without any bread.

Then whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.

 

Which could easily be a tale of love conquering economic challenges:

 

There was a mature woman of quite limited means,

had lots of children, from toddler to teens. 

Dinnertime was difficult, just soup, no bread.

Kissed them and hugged them and put them to bed.

 

Not all nursery rhymes are actively offensive. But there are a few that could use a little tweaking to bring them up to date, accentuate an obvious moral to the story. Like:

Jack Sprat could eat no fat.

His wife could eat no lean.

But, together both,

they licked the platter clean.

highlighting the symbiotic nature of a good marriage: 

Sprat's gallbladder could stand no fats,

his wife had different taste.

But complimenting each other perfectly,

achieved optimal lack of food waste.

 

 

Tangy Beef and Vegetables (Crockpot or Not)

 

 

 

This one too, silly and nonsensical but fun and funny, isn't offensive, but its point is, if nothing else, confounding. It could impart an important message about loving each other:

 

Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle.

the cow jumped over the moon.

The little dog laughed to see such a sport,

and the dish ran away with the spoon.

 

For instance:

 

Hey diddle diddle, beautiful cat playing fiddle,

in love, the cow was over the moon.

Little dog smiled at such inclusiveness,

and dish, emboldened, proposed to the spoon.

 

Oh, and as long as we're making adjustments to childhood expressions, let me just say this:

 

Sticks and stones may break our bones, 

but insults are psychologically scarring, so don't do that either.

 

Tangy Beef and Vegetables (Crockpot or Not)        

                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients: 

1 can (15 oz) tomato sauce

2/3 cup spicy pepper jelly (can use the mild version if preferred)

1/3 cup orange juice

1 TBSP canola oil

2 1/2 # lean stew beef

1 tsp garlic powder 

1 bag (10 oz) frozen chopped onions

 

1 cup baby carrots

3 new potatoes, quartered 

4 oz snap peas

Directions:

*For the sauce, whisk together the tomato sauce, pepper jelly, orange juice, and 1/2 cup of water (for slow cooker) or 1 cup water (for oven cooking).

*Heat the canola oil in a large skillet. Add the beef and sprinkle with the garlic powder. Cook until browned, drain the fat.
*FOR SLOW COOKER: Spray the slow cooker with cooking spray, turn on to low heat. Mix in the cooked beef, onion, and sauce. Cover and cook for 4 hours. Raise the heat level to high, add the carrots and potatoes, cook for 1 1/2 hours, mix in the snap peas and cook for another 1/2 hour.

*FOR OVEN: Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix the cooked beef, onion, and sauce in a dutch oven. Cook for 2 1/2 hours. Remove from oven but leave the oven on. Uncover carefully, mix in the carrots and potatoes, recover, and return to the oven for 1/2 hour. Mix in the snap peas, cover and cook another 1/2 hour.

Lessons from a Groundhog

 

It's February, and right about now is the winter of my discontent. Or now is winter, and I am discontented. 

 

Whatever.

It's also Groundhog Day. Not the kind where you relive the same day over and over and over again, that's the stuff of movies. This is the Groundhog Day where a woodchuck, who somehow holds all the cards to our future comfort, shows his hand. That's a lot of pressure. Not for the woodchuck, I haven't spoken to him lately (or ever), but I doubt he cares. Pressure for those of us who would like our toes to defrost sooner rather than later.

Because today all eyes are on Gobbler's Knob in
Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania (who names these places, anyway?) where, at 7:20 am, men wearing top hats (no idea why the dress code) pull a specific mammal out of his home (a hole), to predict the weather. You can't make this stuff up. Oh wait, you can.

Anyway, according to tradition, if it's sunny and the groundhog sees his shadow, he'll retreat to his den and we're all due for 6 more weeks of winter. If he doesn't see his shadow, we're due for an early spring.

How could it possibly have come to pass that we anxiously await the projections of a rodent? One who eats wood, no less?

 

Portobellos in Alfredo Marinara Sauce

Perhaps the mistake isn't in whether or not we should put our hopes in a tradition involving a mammal, but which groundhog, and where. If we're going to buy into this we game, we need to use a little creativity, stack that deck. Like why Punxsutawney Phil? He's been on the job since 1887. That makes him 134 years old. Remarkable for a species with an average lifespan of 5 - 6 years. Surely we need to let this poor guy retire. Or, maybe what we really need is a change of venue. I vote we give Juneau a turn. They average 44 days of sun a year, may as well put that to good use.

 

I'm guessing, however, that Pennsylvania will fight me on this one.

 

Either way, I wake up on pretty much all February days, like I do every frosty winter day, hoping for some warmth, or at the very least, please, just let me have sunshine. Except for today. Today I have to be able to hope for clouds.

 

What we can all learn from February 2nd isn't about the barometer we use to predict the length of our continued frigid discontent. Today the groundhog has a lesson to teach, and it's not about eating wood and the dangers of built-up roughage. It's about life.

 

The moral of the story is this: sometimes it takes the foresight to hope for what you want the least, in order to achieve the result you want the most. 

 

Chew on that for a bit.

 

Portobellos in Alfredo Marinara Sauce        

                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
1 TBSP olive oil

8 oz Portobello mushrooms, cleaned and sliced

1/2 onion, chopped

3 cloves garlic, minced

1/4 tsp salt

1/8 tsp pepper

12 oz bowtie pasta

1 1/2 cups Homemade Marinara (or jarred marinara of your choice)

1/ cup Alfredo sauce (homemade or jarred)

1/4 cup white wine

1 tsp dried oregano

1 cup spinach

grated parmesan and/or toasted pignolis for serving

Directions:

*Heat oil in a saute pan at medium heat. Add the Portobellos, onion, and garlic to the pan. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Cook and stir until the mushrooms start to brown and the onions soften.

*While the mushrooms are sauteing, in a large pot, cook the bowtie pasta to al dente according to package directions.

*Add the marinara, Alfredo sauce, wine, and oregano to the saute pan with the mushrooms. Reduce heat to medium low and cook, stirring now and then, for 10 minutes.

*Drain the pasta and mix in the spinach. Add the Portobellos and sauce to the pasta and mix gently.

*Serve sprinkled with grated parmesan and/or toasted pignolis.