The Briefcase Stalemate: 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! 

I'm sure I don't have to tell you that Halloween was just a few weeks after my last Fly on the Wall post. I've mentioned a few times that I'd had a couple of surgical procedures to my face and was feeling self-conscious. 

So for giving out candy to the kids on Halloween, I'd put on more makeup than I do most days. And I got the kindest compliment. Almost.

A young teenager made a comment when I was handing her candy:

Trick or Treater: Wow, your make up looks great.

Me (smiling, feeling pretty for the first time in a long time): That's so nice of you to say. Thank you.

Trick or Treater: I don't know how you did it, but those scars on your face look so real.

We had a ton of trick or treaters this year, over 150. All adorable, most really polite.

I like how many of the parents of the really young kids, like 4 years old and under, came up close to the door, reminding their children of their manners, teaching them to say "thank you."

But I did admonish one father for falling down on his teaching responsibilities.

His child, probably right around 4 years old, didn't have a bag, but held out his hand for the treat, which I gave to him.

Little Boy (loudly and with glee): I got a candy!

Me (looking disapprovingly at the dad): Well, that is the whole point . . .

A boy came by, a young teenager, wearing a baseball uniform, the Texas Rangers. Poor kid, not one we knew, so he'd have no way of knowing whose lived here.

And, obviously wasn't quite used to my sense of humor either.

Me (handing him a candy): If that were a Red Sox uniform, I would have given you two.

Boy: {{blink, blink}}

Me: But then if it had been a Yankees uniform, I would have given you none.

He never did say anything. But I'm guessing he's gonna skip my house next year.

Speaking of the Yankees . . .

College Boy buys and sells limited release and rare albums. He appreciates most genres of music, but his favorites are hop hop and rap. Enmeshed in the genre, he follows many mostly unknown but extremely talented underground artists.

One of his absolute favorites, KA, produces his own albums and pretty much only sells them in a one day pop up store in NYC. In the end of September, KA released his newest work, and College Boy actually flew to NYC for the weekend to go to the pop up. He met up with a number of other fans from all over the country he knew from online communities, and a few who live in NY.

One of the NY residents rented bicycles for the group and showed them around the city. As they were going by, he pointed out Yankee stadium.

Friend: That's Yankee Stadium, it's almost the end of the season, but we could catch a game if you guys want.

College Boy: Not me, my mom would kill me.

And I would!

PS: I have a lot to say about KA, about College Boy and his trip to NYC, and the connections he made. Maybe one day I'll write about it, but that time isn't now. 

To KA's wife Mimi, his mother, sister, and all the fans who love him:

"May you live a nice long life, hope it's beautiful."

I had tried out a new recipe, Fudgy Peppermint Rounds. When Hubs walked through the kitchen, I had them on the counter and on the table, setting up different options for picture taking. Not at all unusual. When I was done, of course, I cleaned up and put everything away.

Later that day, Hubs walks in the kitchen:

Hubs: Where are your balls?

Me: Is this a game? I'll show you mine . . .

Fudgy Peppermint Rounds

Hubs came home from work, changed his clothes, and went back out to the garage. He was there a while. When he came in, I asked what he had been doing. 

Hubs: I put my briefcase on the floor behind the driver's seat and the briefcase zipper got stuck on the netting on the cargo pocket behind the seat.

Me: Did you get it off?
Hubs: No, and I don't want to cut the netting, I'll work on it after dinner.

After dinner I asked him if he wanted me to take a look at it. Once I realized that the netting was caught, not in the teeth of the zipper, but the top of the zipper. I got it unhooked pretty easily.

Hubs: Thanks, I probably would have been out there for hours.

Me: You're welcome.

And he was welcome until a few hours later when we were arguing over . . . pretty much nothing.

Me: I have to win this argument, you owe me. 

Hubs: What do you mean I owe you?

Me: If it weren't for me, you'd still be in the back seat of the car, bent up like a pretzel, trying to release your briefcase.

Hubs: Yeah, but there's another way to look at it.

Me: Oh?

Hubs: If you hadn't gotten my briefcase unstuck, I'd still be out there and we never would have had this argument. So it's your fault we're even arguing at all.

I thought I'd had an easy win, but turns out I got caught up in a briefcase stalemate.

 

My generation, well, me anyway, have a hard time keeping up with technology. Getting the hang of something that's new can take time.

My mom recently finally gave up her landline and although she's had a cell phone forever. she never texted. Now she does. Well, she's trying anyway.

She hadn't been feeling well, so I texted her the next morning.

Me: How was last night? Did you sleep?

Mom: Feeling much better. Should be discharged soon.

Me: Discharged?

Mom: Meaning I will not need her any more.

Me: I think you have my sister and I confused. I missed the whole "discharged" conversation.

Mom: It's under your name. Anyway, I said she thinks I'm almost done.

Me: I don't know who she is and what you're almost done with. If nothing else, this conversation would make a very funny Abbot and Costello routine.

Me: The nurse was here. Has been taking care of the cut on my leg.

Me: Oh, that explains a lot.

As I said, she's trying.

Speaking of texts . . . 

Since College Boy buys so many albums, he gets a ton of packages, pretty much daily. 

Early one Tuesday morning before work, he sent me a text:

College Boy: Got this text this morning. Supposed to be from the post office. I'm not clicking on anything, pretty sure it's a scam, I'll look at it when I get to work.

Me: Ha, ha, ha, "Hope your day is filled with peace and productivity," sounds just like the USPS.

College Boy: Oh, lol, I hadn't even read through the whole thing yet.

I love teasing Hubs. He takes everything so literally, which makes it even more fun. 

He had gone in to work, but hadn’t planned on working the whole day. I thought he might be home around noon, but whatever, didn’t matter to me, he’d be home by dinner time. At around 2:00 he called me from his cell.

Hubs: Just letting you know, I’m getting gas.

Me: Thanks for the warning, stop and get some Beano or Gas-X on the way home.

Hubs: No, I meant . . .

All humor aside, as we all know, there was an election a few weeks ago.

I sat up all night long in horror, getting little if no sleep. The next morning, I really didn't know what to say, so I posted this to FB:

I'm exhausted and, honestly, I thought I'd have no words this morning, but I do have one. Ashamed.

Now, of course, time has passed and I've been able to internalize some of the ramifications, and consequences of 4 more years of chaos, bigotry, and hatred and I have more words. Many more words, but we'll leave it at that. Ashamed.

 

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

Menopausal Mother 

On the Border

Fudgy Peppermint Rounds

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 large box (24 oz) Little Debbie Fudge Rounds

35 starlight mints hard candies

about 20 oz candy melts, chocolate, red, or pink

Directions:
*Unwrap the fudge rounds and crush in a bowl.

*Crush 5 of the mints and set aside for topping. Crush the remaining 30 mints and add to the bowl with the fudge rounds. Mix.

*Using your hands, squeezing tightly so they stay together, form the crushed cookie/candy mixure into 36 balls. Place individually onto parchment paper and refrigerate for at least an hour. 

*Melt the candy melts in a bowl or mug according to package directions. Working quickly, place each ball onto a fork, dip into the candy melts to cover completely. Allow the excess to drip off, then using a knife, ease off of the fork onto parchment paper. Immediately, sprinkle with a little of the remaining crushed mints and allow to set.

*Note: wipe off the fork and the knife after dipping each ball. If the candy melts in the bowl start to harden, microwave for 15 - 20 seconds until it liquifies again.

Four Twenty: 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 42. 

It was chosen by Diane of On the Border.

 

 

 

~ This month, I'm talking about today's number. Sort of. But switching it up adding a zero, to be exact. Inspired by the number Diane chose, I'd like to discuss 420. No, not blackbirds, that's four and twenty. I love pie, but blackbirdless.

~ And I'm not talking about my anniversary, (though it is 4/20) nor how I celebrate (although spoiler alert: I don't bake bird pies and I only once spent it searching for pot, and found it, but, that's a story for another day).

 

~ You may have guessed, what I'm talking about is 420 in the context of World Weed Day. I was set on this path by two diametrically opposite political attitudes. First, Biden commuted the sentences of 75 Americans convicted of nonviolent drug crimes.

~ The other is Nebraska's governor attempting to sue Colorado over Colorado's marijuana legalization. Talk about sticking your nose in your neighbor's business. Nebraska's Ricketts has (yes, fairly recently) said that cannabis is a gateway drug, and legalization "is gonna kill your kids." 

 

 

~All of this is easily paralleled to the Covid situation. Ignorance should not trump (yes, pun intended) science, and yet it does. In both instances. There are also parallels to prohibition, which didn't end alcohol use, just made the distilling unregulated, unsafe.

 

~Fun 4/20 story: Back in the 1970s a group of California high school kids (called themselves "the Waldos") used to meet after school at 4:20 to smoke pot together. Later, according to urban legend, they'd search for a rumored deserted marijuana patch.

~ The Waldos never found it (ha, Waldo humor), but 420 became their secret code. Not for long (after all, there are no secrets in high school). AND, the brother of one of the kids in the group was friends with a musician.

~ That musician's band? The Grateful Dead. The boys shared with the band, their secret code for getting high (I can imagine the conversation, over heart shaped munchies, I'm sure). The band began using it and sharing it, and the rest is history.

 

 

 

 

Peppermint Heart Meringues

 

 

~ Like alcohol, marijuana is here to stay. The schedule one status is obsolescent, the punishment associated with it, abusively severe. Legalizing it, acknowledging this drug's therapeutic value ensures its properties can be appropriately studied, dosages scientifically developed, and medical use sales regulated.

 

~ I don't advocate everyone smoke pot. I believe that pot, including recreational, should be legal. But let's at least start with compassion, for those with chronic pain, glaucoma, anxiety . . . we cannot continue to allow an archaic unscientific stance to usurp their relief.

 

Here are links to the other Word Counters posts:

On the Border 

Messymimi’s Meanderings 

Peppermint Heart Meringues

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients: 

3 egg whites

1/4 tsp cream of tartar

1/8 tsp salt

1/2 tsp peppermint extract

1/4 cup sugar

1/2 cup finely crushed candy canes or starlight mint candies

3 TBSP multicolored nonpareils

Directions:

*Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Cover a baking sheet with parchment paper.

*Beat the egg whites, on high speed until they get foamy. Add the cream of tartar and salt, and continue to beat until soft peaks form. 

*Add the peppermint extract and, 1/4 cup at a time, at about 30 second intervals, add the sugar and the finely crushed mints. Continue to bear at high speed until stiff peaks hold.

*Using a pencil, draw 15 hearts on the parchment paper, about 3 inches tall each. Turn the parchment paper over. This is important, do not pipe your hearts onto the side with the pencil on it.

*Spoon about half of the meringue into a piping bag or a gallon sized plastic bag with the tip cut off. Following the lines on the other side of the parchment paper, pipe the outline of the hearts.

*Using a knife, scoop the remaining meringue into the hearts and spread to fill them. Sprinkle with the nonpareils.

*Bake for 15 minutes. Turn the oven off, leaving the meringues inside for another 20 minutes. Remove from the oven, allow to sit for 10 minutes, then and carefully peel off of the parchment paper.

Hybrid Philosophy: 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 43. 
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 Hybrid Philosophy, I'm dipping my toe in the waters of Karma, Existentialism, Nature vs Nurture, and more. All inspired by a bag. . .

~ Inspiration can come from the strangest, most random places. Like a bag you walk out of the store with, carrying your holiday cards. I had walked out of the card store without ever really looking at the bag they'd given me. Who does?

~ I placed my purchases on the kitchen counter, took off and hung up my coat, started emptying the grocery bags, putting things away, and as the counter started to clear, there it was, staring me in the face, a message. It was this:

 

 

 

~ Although I can thank the card company for grabbing my attention and getting me thinking now, the message, of course, is not theirs. Sartre is credited with the theory of existentialism. He believed that our actions are what make us who we are.

 

~ I'm not someone who fully believes in karma, that what you put out there comes back to you. If only it were that easy! But that boomerang theory isn't backed up by facts. If true, nothing bad would ever happen to kind people.

 

~ I'm not talking about recipes going wrong, burning the roast, the cookies falling apart. It isn't the little things, it's the major life changes, heartbreaks. They happen to all of us, no one is immune, no matter how good or kind we are.

 

Peppermint Stuffed Cookies

~ I remember, while suffering the brutal ups and downs of infertility, finally being pregnant, then losing the baby. I went into surgery reading a book called "When Bad Things Happen to Good People." They do. They're not karma, not because they are deserved.

 

~ And don't forget nature vs nurture, you have to add that into the mix too. I believe in both. We are most definitely born with some inherent traits. And our upbringing has to impact how we grow and develop. We don't control either.

 

~ We start with our nature add the nurture provided, and a sprinkling of karma, the rest is up to us. We learn from our choices or not, giving us the power. Being a good person isn't for a reward. It is the reward.

Here are links to the other Word Counters posts:

On the Border 

Messymimi’s Meanderings 

Peppermint Stuffed Cookies

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients: 

4 oz candy canes or starlight mints

1 cup canned vanilla frosting

1/2 tsp peppermint extract

50 vanilla wafer cookies

3 oz candy melts, white, red, or a mixture of both

 

Directions:
*Finely crush the mints.

*Mix the frosting with the peppermint extract and half of the crushed candy.

*Lay out half of the vanilla wafer cookies, flat side up, and pipe about 1 TBSP frosting onto each. Sandwich pressing the flat side of the remaining 25 cookies onto the top.

*Melt the candy melts according to package directions. Dip half of each cookie into the melted topping and immediately sprinkle with the remaining crushed mints.

*Place onto parchment paper and allow to set completely.

Jewels

 

 

Friends are the jewelry that adorn us. They add color, vibrancy, and sparkle.

As we go through life, we gain friends, retain friends, and unfortunately lose them. Sadly, over the last four years in this country we've expanded the number of ways in which we lose friends. Politics doesn't only make for strange bedfellows, but for wide divides, amplifying some pretty consequential differences.

Today I'm talking about two friendships, and about two diametrically opposed states of loss. I hope that when I've got this out, put this jumble of feelings into concrete sentences, I can begin to come to terms with what's been haunting me for almost two months now. 

 

Because I'm also talking about the ultimate loss, death.

At the beginning of this year I had two friends I no longer have. I met them both at almost the same time, back in the very beginning of 2013. They both found me through the blogging challenges I run. We grew our connection through the blogging community created as a result of those challenges. Both friends participated regularly over the past 7 years. And the community, a safe place to share, built our trust and connection.

 

One of these women wrote a very right wing blog post back in June. She told me that she knew her stance wouldn't be popular with our group, but that everyone has the right to say what they think. I agree. But apparently to her, "everybody" meant only her. She was hurt by her blog comments from our group expressing opposing viewpoints. She told me privately that she was sure I wanted her to leave the group, that she no longer felt welcome in the group. I supported her, told her that I didn't want her to leave, and that she has every right to express her political and social position on her own blog. 

 

She also expressed a desire to participate in an upcoming group post but thought she wouldn't be well received. I told her she was as welcome as always (she did end up signing up, then didn't honor her word by not participating). It declined from there, she got passive/aggressive taking down graphics I'd spent a lot of time and effort making for her without saying anything to me, I backed off in order to keep from saying anything I couldn't take back, she told me I wasn't her friend and she wanted nothing else to do with me or our writing group.

That situation is resolved. I have no regrets, feel no remorse. I offered support, it was rejected, and I have no problem living with her decision.

But the other loss, that loss is none of the above. There is regret. There is remorse. There is guilt.

And it was a candy cane, of all things, that brought it to the surface, what I'd been tamping down, avoiding, for months now. I guess the candy cane was the trigger because Christmas was important to Jules, she was deeply religious and was even semi-raised by a chosen mom (it's very complicated) who was a former nun. So, at this Christmas time, I finally need to talk about Jules.

 

Candy Cane Cake

   

As I said, I met Jules via blogging 7 years ago. I encouraged her participation in our writing challenges and she joyfully joined in most of them. Through the group and then through private messages we got to know each other better.

But Jules had problems. That's an understatement. She was a mess, physically. I don't even know where to start, from Crohn's and a myriad of autoimmune conditions to benign growths on her brain to throwing blood clots to, well, you name it. She was constantly seeing doctors and oncologists, was a medical enigma, they were forever just trying to keep her in a state of stability. 

She started having me edit some of her posts, remind her of deadlines, and she made me an administrator on her blog. As time went by she got more comfortable with the group and shared some very personal and difficult truths. With her permission, I wrote a blog post about it called Silent No More. She wrote a companion piece, which I edited for her. I went into her blog dashboard yesterday searching for it, but she'd deleted it. She didn't want anyone's feelings hurt, which is so Jules.

 

I don't know when she began sending me private messages at all hours of the night, but we'd talk for hours. Trying to follow her line of thought could be exhausting. I'm sure it was because of the tumors and the meds, but she'd start conversations assuming things she's actually never told me, relay a conversation with a former father in law (in name only, it turns out) I never knew she had. She'd talk about people I'd never heard of, and she'd make definitive decisions that, the next time I talked to her, not only had she not followed through with, but she seemed to know nothing about. She'd talk about new medical decisions or conditions, parenting struggles, Chad, Andrea, Whit, Kateri, Molly, her mom, her "mum", her landlord, knowing her father was fading, and then her feelings when he died. I talked with her through it all, Jules was an unwaveringly kind, moral, honorable and honest person and I cared about her so much. But honestly, it was emotionally draining.

She'd told me over and over again that she would die young but with every setback over all of those years that she overcame, it just stopped registering.

 

I heard about Jules' death last month from Penni (the daughter of her "mum Rosemary"), posting to Jules' FB page. Even while both in shock and grappling with a stabbing sympathy for Chad, Andrea, Molly, and her daughter Whit, the guilt set in immediately. 

 

We'd lost touch. Not completely, but the late night personal conversations had become few and far between. She got a job and stopped blogging, spent more time on her FB page communicating en masse than individually. 

 

Some of the last few private conversations are now quite painful to read. Some of the bits and pieces:

 

Jules: "I miss you. I've just been barely surviving these days."

Me: "Hang in there, it'll get better. It always does."

Jules: "I absolutely agree. I know in the end it will be okay."

and a piece of a conversation as the reality of the pandemic set in:

Jules: "I cannot wait for us to all be safe again. I need us to be safe. I said Trump would kill us all I genuinely wanted him to prove me wrong. I love you. Stay safe."

and from one of our last private talks:

Jules: "I trust God. I really do. But sometimes I feel like he's filming candid camera."

 

I didn't feel badly about the dwindling of individual conversations because we did still stay in touch. I actually, in a way, felt relieved. 

 

That insensitivity is where the seeds of regret, remorse, and guilt lie. What I wouldn't give to be able to have more middle of the night conversations. Even the ones where I was completely lost, had no idea what we were talking about.

 

I continue to struggle with the guilt, probably always will. But I am fortunate enough to have had those conversations, they are the reason I know that Jules' 37 years were well spent. I know, for instance, that she could barely walk, but participated in charitable marathons, no matter how long it took her. Jules had ongoing issues with food and digestion, but volunteered regularly at her local food bank. She was dealt an unimaginable hand physically, but she always expressed gratitude. She often had severe issues with memory, but it didn't stop her from remembering to tell me she loved me.

 

Jules had a name for herself, the one she used as her twitter handle. She called herself Broken Jules. And she was, in so many ways, broken. 

 

Yet in infinitely more meaningful ways, she was, like all jewels, most perfectly formed.

 

Candy Cane Cake

                                                         ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

6 TBSP canola oil

4 TBSP butter

1 1/2 cups sugar

3 eggs

1 cup milk

1 1/2 tsp peppermint extract

2 1/2 cups flour

1/2 tsp salt

2 tsp baking powder

1/3 cup finely crushed candy canes (or peppermint hard candies)

1 can (12 oz) vanilla marshmallow frosting

1/2 tsp peppermint extract

1/3 cup finely crushed candy canes (or peppermint hard candies), divided 

 

OPT: peppermint hard candies for decoration

Directions:

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

*Beat the canola oil, butter, and sugar until smooth. Beat in the eggs, then the milk and 1 1/2 tsp of peppermint extract.
*Add the flour, salt, baking powder and 1/3 cup of the crushed candy canes. Spread evenly into the baking pan.

*Bake for 25 to 35 minutes or until the center springs back to the touch. Cool completely.

*Mix the frosting with the remaining peppermint extract and about 1/4 cup of the crushed candy canes. Spread over the cake. Sprinkle with the remaining crushed candy canes.

*OPT: decorate with peppermint hard candies.