Plots and Prey: 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 had a bit of a harrowing experience recently. I was home alone, so I'd had a leisurely morning. Having finished my coffee, I was about to take a nice hot shower. Making sure the water was just how I like it, I jumped in and closed the glass door.

Well, I didn't exactly close it like I'd planned. When it was about 5 inches from being closed, it broke. Wouldn't budge, either way. And I was in there. Naked. Did I mention home alone? Picture that.

Actually, don't. You can take my word for it.

My leisurely morning had gone to hell. I was trapped. And phoning a friend wasn't an option.

Neither was shutting off the water (which was dripping onto the shower matt and floor), and standing in there naked for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately necessity was not the mother of invention this case, but desperation being what it is, I was finally able to jam the door open a few more inches and squeeze my way through. Into the puddle on my bathroom floor.

I may be, for the foreseeable future, taking nice leisurely baths for a long while now. After all, what could go wrong?

Don't answer that. 

It's baseball season! Or for me, Red Sox season since that's the only baseball I watch. I'd mentioned in the past that for Mother's Day, PurDude buys me a subscription to all the Red Sox games. That includes the pre-season games.

We'd been watching a pre-season game, where many different pitchers were trying out for a spot once the season started. After an outing, one of those pitchers was asked about a change in his form. He explained that the coaches had been working with him on how he starts his pitches, in an effort to keep his arm attached to his body.

I'm thinking that it's probably a good thing, athlete or not, to . . . you know . . . keep your arm attached to your body.

When one of the newer players came to bat, the announcers said his name and we were confused. They put his name up on the screen as he stepped into the batter's box, and we were still confused: Jhostynxon.

Now my name is Karen, so believe me, I'm not one to make fun of people's names. But the announcers said that the player was asked about his name and said that his parents couldn't decide between two names, so ended up taking letters from both.

Say what?

First, those parents should have their parent cards revoked.

But second, can you just imagine him in first grade, when all the kids are first learning to write their names?

Little Bob (working hard at forming his letters): B - o - b

Little Sue (working hard at forming her letters): S - u - e

Little Dan (working hard at forming his letters): D - a - n

Little Jhostynxon: I quit.

Watch what you say . . .

Saying "talk to the hand" is an insult that can hurt. But did you know that talking about the hand in an insulting way can boomerang that hurt right back to you?

I know. Now. 

I used to have my nails done regularly, but for years now I've just been doing them myself. I generally keep up with them. I was going through my Insta feed and saw a few people posting some really pretty nail art, most spring inspired.

 

I looked down at my own nails and was mortified. I was way overdue for a touch-up. Clearly they'd been peeling for I don't know how long.

So I posted a picture with a snarky comment about how beautiful {{cough, cough}} my hand looked.

 

that line at the bottom of my hand is just shade from the window treatment slats, btw

I guess my hand took offense, along the lines of "you think that's horrible? Oh, honey, old my beer."

By the time I realized that I had an infection under my rings, the whole finger was so swollen I couldn't get the rings off. It was painful, and my whole hand was becoming involved. It was an excruciating process, but I (with the help of a few medicinal shots of Patron) bit the bullet and ripped the rings off of my finger so I could treat the infection.

But I will never, I mean never, body shame an appendage again. Lesson learned. 

Hubs: These salmon patties are delicious.

Me: When I grilled salmon for dinner the other night, I made extra so we'd have leftovers. I think the grilled salmon makes a difference in the flavor.

Hubs: Are you going to put this recipe on your blog?
Me: Yes, since we are both happy with how they came out.

Hubs: I don't see you taking as many food pictures as you used to.

Me: Well, I used to post 8 to 9 times a month, now that I'm only posting once a month, I don't have to come up with as many new recipes.

Hubs: Now that you're only posting one a month, they have to be really good recipes.

Me: Are you saying I come up with not good recipes?

Hubs: Umm, quick question: will it work out better for me if I go out and buy you flowers? Or have them delivered?

Grilled Salmon Patties

The holidays came (very, very) early for College Boy. I was in our bank accounts and noticed he had 2 credits of almost $2300. When I looked at them, it made no sense to me, he always has a healthy balance on his account.

I asked him about it, and he had no idea what it was about. He can’t remember ever having had an issue with insufficient funds, and would absolutely remember (who wouldn’t?) if he’d ever been hit with a $2000 fee.

It was a weekend, Monday was a holiday, so he called the bank on Tuesday for clarification. They told him the deposits were legit, but couldn’t tell him what they were about. They offered to connect him to another department for more information. College Boy accepted, but hung up after holding for 40 minutes.

Now I love mysteries, you know that, but I greatly prefer for them to have an answer at the end. If not, it leaves me hanging, trying to come up with feasible scenarios in my head. Well that and, in this case, the hope that whatever did happen would happen to me too.

So I’ve been diligently checking my own account about 5 times a day, hoping that free money fairy might put $2300 in there too, for no apparent reason.

So far, no such luck.

But I do have a new earworm, that old Dire Straits song . . . "get your money for nothing . . ."

 

Not having learned my lesson after taunting the hand, seems a comment I'd made was taken as an insult (or a challenge) by Mother Nature.

 

I was saying, and it was true, that Florida had gotten more snow this winter than we had in the Midwest. 

 

Once again, I'd be treated to an "oh honey, hold my beer," moment.

 

It started to snow. And snow. And before you knew it, we had Florida beat. By a mile. 

And you know who everyone I'd originally joked with was blaming, right? Yup, me. 

If only I could use my power for good instead of evil.

 

 

So, it had been snowing. Yes, again. Apparently Mother Nature can really hold a grudge. Anyway, we were watching a basketball game, after which Hubs was going out to snow blow the driveway.

 

Me (pulling out a bottle of wine): I'd ask if you want a glass of wine, but I don't want you to be drunk blowing.

Hubs: {{blink, blink}}

Me: OK, that may not have come out right.

Hubs: I think maybe you're the one who should lay off the wine.

 

Yeah, he could make a case for that. 

Next thing you know, my neighbor is . . . well . . . lawn blowing.

So maybe that whole drunk blowing actually is a thing.

Finally it looked like the weather was starting to change. The sun had come out and we were starting to see some bare concrete on our front deck. In fact, the left side, that got more sun, was completely clear.

That afternoon, the Fed Ex guy made a delivery. Where do you think he choose to throw the album?

Did you guess?

 

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

Menopausal Mother 

On the Border

Grilled Salmon Patties

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

NOTE: this recipe requires the salmon to be cooled after grilled, so be sure to have a few hours between grilling and preparing the patties. I usually grill the salmon the night before.

Ingredients:

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

1/4 tsp paprika

1/8 tsp cayenne pepper

3/4# skin on salmon fillet

1 green onion

2 eggs

1/3 cup seasoned bread crumbs

1 cup corn flakes, crushed

1 TBSP oil

1 TBSP butter

OPT: sliced lemon or tartar sauce for serving

Directions:
*Mix together the salt, pepper, paprika, and cayenne. Sprinkle onto both sides of the salmon fillet.

*Heat the grill to medium. Place the salmon on the grill, flesh side down, and cook for 3 minutes. Flip the fillet over and grill, skin side down, until the fish is fully cooked and flakes when a fork is inserted into the center. How long it will take to cook will depend on the thickness of your fillet.

*Remove the salmon from the grill, remove and discard the skin. Chop the fillet and refrigerate in a bowl until cold (I refrigerate overnight).

*Chop the green onion. Mix the cooled salmon with the green onion, eggs, and bread crumbs. Using your hands, form into 6 balls.

*Individually, press each ball into the corn flakes to coat, flattening the balls into patties. Turn the patty over and coat the other side. Place wax paper onto a plate or tray, and refrigerate the patties for an hour.

*Add the oil and butter to a large skillet over medium heat. Once it starts to bubble, add the salmon patties. Cook for about 5 minutes, until the bottom is browned. Flip the patties over and turn the heat down a little if necessary. Cook another about 5 minutes until browned and the centers are warm. 

*OPT: serve with lemon slices and/or tartar sauce.

Hurricane Hope

 

Hurricane Ian slammed into Florida a month ago. For most of us, it's difficult to watch the path of the storm as it sets its eye on land. Those of us with a heart and the capability to feel compassion, that is. For me, the dread was mixed with deja vu.

 

I think you all know by now that my mom's winter home is on Marco Island. Hurricane Irma put Marco in the bullseye back in 2017, which was the last time I'd seen a CNN news story focused on the tiny Island.

In the end of September, it happened once again. Ian's bullseye was confirmed to be Naples. And Marco is just off of Naples.

That night was the second time I'd seen a CNN news story focused on Marco.

After the initial devastation, as the storm worked its way up the coast, weakening along the way, and we were able to assess the damage in general (my cousin was on the island and kept us informed), we waited to hear about the condition of mom's home. And I got to thinking.

Relief that it was over mixed with heartbreak at the loss of life. And there was empathy for all of those who had to deal with the aftermath, the clean up, the loss, the trauma. Millions were without electricity, their streets were flooded hampering even local travel, and something as simple and life sustaining as food was an issue. Where would their next meal come from?

 

 

 

Wild Mushroom & Smoked Salmon Rotini

 

I remembered the devastation Puerto Rico suffered in 2017 and how the trump administration did not provide the humanitarian support those citizens needed. Not a hurricane, but I remembered Texas's winter storm last year, when Ted Cruz called his friends, gathered his family, and went off on vacation.

And I thought about DeSantis, and what he had just done to target and harm people taking refuge in his state.

All of which, believe it or not, brought me to hope.

Because despite DeSantis's cruelty, my home state of Massachusetts rose honorably to the challenge.

 

 

 

And it made me realize that the tide has started to turn, no matter the level of cruelty by the local administration of the exact state that was now in such a desperate situation, we no longer, at the federal level, reward or punish states based on their local politics. 

We have far to go as a country, just to get back to square one when it comes to how we treat each other. It was a relief to know that under this administration, desperation would once again be met with support, compassion, and collaborative assistance. 

 

Whichever way the wind blows.

And that gives me hope.

Wild Mushroom & Smoked Salmon Rotini

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients: 

2 cups vegetable broth, divided

1 package (.5 oz) dried wild mushrooms

1 box (16 oz) vegetable rotini 

4 - 5 oz smoked salmon, sliced

1 TBSP butter

1 TBSP olive oil

1/2 small onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced 

6 oz portobello mushroom caps, cleaned, stem stub removed, sliced

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

1 tsp dried dill

1 TBSP cooking sherry

1 TBSP lemon juice

1 green onion, sliced

Directions:

*Boil 1 cup of the vegetable broth. Add the mushrooms and set aside for 15 minutes.
*Cook the pasta to al dente. Place the salmon in the pot with the pasta and cover to keep warm.

*In a large saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter with the olive oil. Add the onion, garlic, and portobellos. Cook and stir for 3 minutes. Add the wild mushrooms with the broth, the additional broth, salt, pepper, dill, and sherry.

*Bring to a boil, reduce heat, add the lemon juice, and simmer 3 minutes. Mix in the pasta with the salmon. Top with the green onions.

 

Word Play or Nay: Secret Subject Swap

Welcome a Secret Subject Swap. This month 6 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. Read through mine and at the bottom you’ll find links to all of today’s other Secret Subject participants.

My subject is: Do you play Scrabble?
It was submitted by: Tamara of Part-time Working Hockey Mom.

I did. I don't. Seems like I now can't.

My sister was always a game player. I was decidedly not. She'd often, when we were together, talk me into it. I'd play begrudgingly, but when I did it was to win, I was competitive. We both were. Over the years, mostly when my sister and her kids met up with me and my kids at mom's on Marco Island, she'd teach me new games. I can't even remember how many times she and mom taught me to play Mah Jongg. 

One thing we always did, when playing with the kids, is to let them lose. We may help them think through a move (we're not completely heartless) but we'd never throw the game. Learn to win, learn to lose, learn to think a few moves ahead.

When the boys were young, I actually did want to play games with them. I'd buy mostly card games in the hopes of getting them thinking, working on their math skills, their spelling, their strategic thinking. On Wednesday mornings a local bookstore would do a reading of a children's book. The boys would invite a friend from school and we'd go to the reading, then out for fast food, then come back to the house to play games. But for the most part, the boys took after their mom, would never wanted to play when it was just us. {{sigh}}.

It was through this attempt to get the boys playing games that we found a few games that ended up getting incorporated into our adults nights. Phase 10 was one (a game I later taught my sister, btw). I remember about once a week we'd have 4 - 6 families over, all of our kids the same ages and close friends off somewhere in the house doing who knows what kind of harm. The adults would be sitting around my kitchen table, with full pitchers of Raspberry Orange Margaritas, playing, building alliances, boldly cheating, often ending with some kind of mayhem of our own. Once I actually had my own yard toilet papered with my own toilet paper while I was sitting in the house drinking and playing Phase 10.

So . . . Scrabble. 

Years ago it was my sister who talked me into joining FB. She had an ulterior motive. Seems FB has a Scrabble game. She'd had surgery and was stuck home so as soon as I had signed up and signed on, she played the sympathy card. And I ended up playing Scrabble. Lots and lots of Scrabble.

We live 1500 miles away and, ultimately, scrabble became a connection. She'd start a game and, the beauty of an online game is that you played whenever you wanted, whenever it was convenient as opposed to sitting in one spot for the duration, we'd take our turns. I could check the game in the afternoon and, if it was my turn, make my move, then go make dinner and check again later to see if it was my turn again.

Cornbread Crusted Salmon Casserole

Whenever we were both on FB at the same time, usually late at night, we'd chat back and forth through PMs while we played, until one or the other of us had to go. It was actually, dare I say it, fun. Every time a game ended though, she'd immediately start another and one game turned into two, turned into more and more and more. Her daughter even started a few games with me and I'd be playing them both separately.

Then one day Words With Friends moved into the hood and started a turf war. People were jumping the Scrabble ship in droves and joining up with the new guy. My sister was one of them. I was not and our days of late night Scrabble sessions ended.

I'd forgotten all about Scrabble, honestly, but now reminded, I just took a look on FB and it seems that the Scrabble game I'd played is gone. All of my stats, gone. It looks like there's a new game, Scrabble Go, I assume it's pretty much the same as the old one, but I haven't played it. I probably won't. Unless someone's going to have surgery, I'm a sucker for that sympathy card . . .

P.S. I am convinced that Tamara's prompt came to me at this exact time to bring the memories of those game nights up to the surface. I had no idea, when I received this prompt, or even when writing the post, what a difficult week this would be, and I'm grateful to have remembered those times with a smile. They are now and will forever be bittersweet.

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:

Wandering Web Designer 
A 'lil HooHaa 
The Crazy Mama Llama
Climaxed  
Part-time Working Hockey Mom

Cornbread Crusted Salmon Casserole

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
about 1 1/2# skinless salmon fillets
salt, pepper, dried dill
1 bag (12 oz) frozen broccoli florets, thawed
1 bag (12 oz) frozen broccoli and cauliflower florets, thawed
1 cup cornmeal
1 cup flour
1/2 cup fat free shredded cheddar cheese
1/4 cup sugar
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup buttermilk
2 eggs
1 green onion, chipped
1/4 red pepper chopped
1/2 cup corn kernels 

Directions:*Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Grease an 8 X 11 baking dish. Set aside.
*Lightly grease a small baking tray with edges. Place the salmon fillets on the sheet and sprinkle with salt, pepper, and dill. Bake for about 20 minutes, until the fish is completely cooked (flakes with a fork and is not translucent).
*Mix together the cornmeal, flour, cheese, sugar, baking soda and salt. Mix in the buttermilk, eggs, green onion, red pepper and corn just until incorporated. 
*Gently pat as much water out of the defrosted vegetables with paper towels and spread over the bottom of the prepared 8 X 11 baking dish. Top with the salmon fillets and cover with the cornbread topping. 
*Bake for 25 minutes, until the cornbread browns, then cover loosely with tin foil and bake another 15 minutes until all of the cornbread is cooked through.

Days of Wine and Sneezes

I am a spring lover. I think I'm the only one in my family who is. My mom and my oldest son are firmly in the fall camp. I get it, cool but comfortable days after a long hot summer, beautiful foliage, the smell of a wood burning fire, great walking weather. I understand the appeal, but it's still spring and summer for me.

I grew up a summer person. I'm sure school being out was a big part of the appeal, but we lived within driving distance of Cape Cod and Plum Island as well as local lakes so summer was about days at the beach, then fresh clams or lobster for dinner. 

Then I moved to the Midwest, really ruining summer for me. No ocean, no lakes. Well, there are lakes but you can't swim in them, only look at them longingly {{sigh}}. 

Even when I was a summer lover, spring was a close second for me. It is the season of shedding winter coats, boots and hats. It is heralded by the reawakening of my beloved Lilacs and Irises and Forsythia and Rhododendrons. A season of longer days and time spent outdoors, dinners on the deck, cooking on the grill and cold salad leftovers.

Parmesan Balsamic Salmon Salad

So spring it is. My Midwest favorite season.

Not so fast . . .

Nothing (well, other than some of the crap my kids pull, but that's another story) evokes terror in the heart of an East Coaster than hearing tornado sirens for the first time. And pretty much any and every time after that. You guessed it, I moved to Tornado Alley. In my defense, it certainly wasn't my choice, but that's a whole other story too.

And then there's the allergies. They have robbed me of my enjoyment of so many things spring. I'm not going to tell you I didn't have seasonal allergies back home, I did. But nothing like this. This is seasonal allergies on steroids (which, ironically, often ends up putting you on steroids).

When I moved here I tried to plant my favorite spring flowering bushes to remind me of home. The Forsythia did not survive. Rhododendrons don't seem to exist here. I do have some beautiful lilac shrubs along the side of my house. I used to bring cuttings in and loved having a vase of lilacs on my counter for a few weeks, but even that I can no longer do. Our allergies have gotten so bad that my family finally put their foot down this year. {{Ah-choo}}. Selfish of them, if you ask me, not being willing to suffer a bit for beauty, but that's men for ya. 

If you really press me, I'll admit that the sinus headaches, the runny nose, the make-up streaks down my face from watery eyes, the constant sneezing has started to take the joy out of vases of lilacs for me too. {{Ah-choo}}.

Truth is, though, if you don't welcome those allergens in the house, they're gonna sneak in anyway.

It is literally snowing cottonwood here along the woods line. It covers the lawn, clogs the a/c unit and coats the outdoor furniture. {{Ah-choo}}. It gets in your hair, on your clothes, up your nose and even in your mouth if you dare to speak outside. And if you dare to even leave the house at all, it floats in the door, an uninvited guest you then have to chase through the house like an idiot looking like you're trying to catch a butterfly without a net. While sneezing. 
  Good thing there's still wine. 

Parmesan Balsamic Salmon Salad      
                                    ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

NOTE: I make the salmon for dinner the night before, make one extra salmon steak and refrigerate it to use in this recipe the next day.

Ingredients:

8 oz salmon steak

1/4 cup Balsamic Vinaigrette salad dressing 

1 1/2 cups white rice

1/2 cup frozen peas, defrosted

1/4 cup Parmesan salad dressing

1 TBSP Balsamic Vinaigrette salad dressing

1/2 tsp dried parsley

dash cayenne pepper

1 green onion, chopped

1 tsp dried chives 

Directions:

*Marinate the salmon steak in 1/4 cup of the Balsamic Vinaigrette in the refrigerator for 2 - 4 hours. Grill until the fish is flaky but still moist. Refrigerate.

*Cook the rice according to package directions. Move to a bowl and add the peas. 

*Whisk together the Parmesan salad dressing the remaining Balsamic Vinaigrette, the parsley and the cayenne. Mix the dressing and the green onions into the rice and refrigerate until cool.

*To serve: Flake the fish, discarding the skin. Mix it gently into the rice and top with chives.