Creative Solutions: 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! 

We still have cable TV. We hate it, but we've had our internet hacked so many times we've already lost one provider, and we're afraid if we go to streaming and lose internet, we'll end up with both no internet and no TV. So for now we have to use a VPN on all of our electronics, and continue to (over)pay a cable company.

One afternoon, our cable was out. Hubs got the login and password from me so he could go onto the site and see what they were saying for timing of the service returning. He got on, checked it out, and signed up for text updates.

A short time later, I got an email from the cable company titled "Account locked," and started off "so, heads up, we had to lock your account because security flagged some odd behavior." 

First of all, "heads up?" Second, you locked my account AFTER allowing the "odd behavior" access to my account? Ever heard of closing the barn door after the horse is gone?

So now I can't get into the account. In order to get back in, I have to either upload a selfie to them, or upload a copy of my license.

What? No, and no. 

You have my email address, send me a code. You have my cell phone number, send me a code. News flash, cable company: there are no national secrets in my Cox account. You are not the CIA, you're a freaking cable TV company.

Apparently, one whose website I'll never be using again.

I thought I was teaching my son a lesson about perspective and perceived worth. I think he taught me a lesson right back.

When PurDude was here, I made all of the meals he loves. The night we celebrate Hanukkah, I make Prime Rib, his absolute favorite. I make a large one because he takes the leftovers from all of the meals home. This year I bought a 5.5# prime rib roast.

There's a new pizza place in town, a NYC chain and their pizza is supposed to be delicious. We talked about getting it, but I was shocked to find out that 2 large pizzas were $65. I balked, found that absurd, ultimately we did end up deciding to try it, and it was absolutely delicious.

After PurDude was back home I texted him about the pizza. I didn't want him to think I was being cheap. I told him it wasn't about the money, it was about whether 2 pizzas were worth that much. They are, after all, bread, sauce, cheese and a topping. To put it into perspective, I told him that that those 2 pizzas cost the exact same amount as a 5.5# prime rib.

I thought he'd say something about how, for the money, we should have made another prime rib.

What he actually said was that from his perspective, those pizzas fed 4 people and cost about what he would spend on 4 takeout meals in Boulder.

And I get it. But next time I still think I'd go for another prime rib. 

A few years ago, on Thanksgiving, I had a mortifying accident. I cook the turkey in those huge tin foil pans, I double them.

Somehow, towards the end of cooking, when I was basting the bird, I punctured the pans. I don't even know how it's possible, but I did. An inch of butter and fat poured out everywhere. All over the floor of the oven, the oven door, down the wall to the second oven, all over the floor, and it even splattered on the side of the fridge.

It hurts just to think about it. It took me forever to clean up the greasy mess, but I cannot get the streaks off of the inner glass of the upper oven. I've tried everything, they're a little lighter, but they're definitely still there.

Fast forward to this year's prime rib dinner night. 

I had scored and rubbed the prime rib about a day and a half in advance. It was a beautiful piece of meat. That day, I brought it to room temperature, then stuck it in the oven.

After I had the prime rib in the oven for a while:

PurDude: I can smell it, smells delicious.

Me (calling PurDude over and turning on the oven lights): How does that look?

PurDude (trying to look through the splattered oven door): Looks like a crime scene.

Not the reaction I was going for, but he's not wrong.

I had called mom and was telling her a rather long story about something we'd been going through here, I wanted her advice. Most of the way through my story, my cell rang with an incoming call. I checked the screen to see if it was something important, and what I saw made no sense. It said the incoming call was from mom.

Figuring the caller had hung up, I went back to mom to finish my story, and the phone stopped ringing. At some point I realized she wasn't reacting anymore. After a few "hello, hello"s, it was clear she wasn't there. 

So I called her again. She told me that we had been disconnected just after I started the story, she tried to call back but I didn't answer.

So apparently I told most of my long story to no one, stopping briefly to decline the call of the person I was telling the story to.

Yeah, I know, I'm a genius.

Hubs' boss sends us a box of designer chocolates at holiday time. This year's box had come and was on the counter when College Boy walked in. He went for the box:

Me: Nope.

Hubs (to College Boy): You know no one touches the box of candy until mom picks out her favorite.

College Boy: But her favorite is my favorite, and I never get my favorite.

Hubs: Listen, there are certain absolutes in life: death, taxes, and mom always gets the chocolate raspberry candy.

Me: It's not like I'm being selfish. And just to prove it, I'm giving you both first dibs on the broccoli.

College Boy (rolling his eyes): Well, that sounds fair. NOT.

Yeah, he was a lot easier to fool when he was little . . .

Turns out the broccoli was delicious. And I only know that because they're a little more generous with the Crispy Greek Air Fryer Broccoli than I am with the chocolate raspberry candies.

Crispy Greek Air Fryer Broccoli

During the holiday season, I'm always trying to think up new pumpkin desserts, they're a favorite of both Hubs and PurDude, and I rarely think of using pumpkin as an ingredient in the spring or summer.

I had tried a Cinnamon Chip Pumpkin Spice Cake with Spiced Cream Cheese Frosting, and stuck it in the fridge to serve after dinner.

I went to the fridge in the afternoon and 3 pretty big pieces were gone.

Me: Where did all that cake go?
Hubs: You should thank me, you were shirking your responsibilities.

Me: What?
Hubs: Don't worry, I picked up the slack.

Me: What are you talking about?
Hubs: Don't you always say it's the chef's responsibility to taste the food to be sure it's OK?

Me: Well, yeah.

Hubs: But you didn't try the cake. Don't worry, I tried it for you.

Me: Three times?
Hubs: You see, I tried it.

Me: And?

Hubs: It was good. But then I thought I should have another piece to be sure.

Me: And?
Hubs: That second slice was even better. 

Me: And?

Hubs: Then I had to test out my theory that the more you eat the better it gets.

Me: With that theory of yours, I'm lucky you didn't eat the whole cake.

Hubs: True. And now we're back where we started: you should thank me.

 

I’ve mentioned before that PurDude and I text every day. Sometimes it's just a quick hello, but I like to briefly (he's often texting from work) let him know what's going on around here, and hear what he's been up to.

On the day of New Year's Eve, he texted me his daily hello. And I responded with 

my New Years wishes for him.

Me: Wishing you a happy, healthy, productive, prosperous new year, filled with many trips home to see your mom.

Because trips home to see your mom is clearly right up there among the priorities for the upcoming year. And who would know that better than me?

We have a lot of white carpet in our house. It certainly wouldn't have been my choice, and I should have replaced it long ago, but it never hit the top of my home to do list.

In most of the rooms, the carpet is in good shape, but in the room College Boy uses as a sort of warehouse, the carpet's almost black. Replacing it at this point would be a monumental task as the room is quite full and he has it all organized.

Me: We really need to do something about that carpet, it's disgusting.

Hubs: He should vaccume it.

Me (looking at him like he's nuts): Umm, he does. Regularly. He's even used that powder cleaner.

Hubs: What do you want to do?
Me: We need to rent one of those . . . what do you call them?
Hubs: Zambonis?

Me (rolling my eyes): Zamboni?

Sometimes I have no idea how that guy's mind works.

I've said all this before, have even written multiple blog posts about it: I love that our house backs up to the woods, it's not only private and peaceful, but we see so much wildlife: deer, turkeys, hawks, fox, to name a few. And although we love birds, some of them can be destructive. We, all of us in this neighborhood, have been paying a fortune replacing siding on our homes due to woodpeckers. Many of us had some of our siding replaced in areas the woodpeckers like best with composite planks (made to look like wood and painted to match our house).

Just a few months later, we had our windows replaced, and recently we had workers out to the house to address the few issues we had.

When they were done, one rang the doorbell:

Worker: Did you know you have a hummingbird problem? 

Me: A hummingbird problem?

Worker: Yes, on the side of your house.

Me: Oh no, do you mean woodpecker?

Can't tell you how much I was wishing we had hummingbirds but, unfortunately, he did mean woodpeckers. He showed me a few new holes on the front and side of the house. He did recommend we hang plastic snakes on those spots, or put a plastic owl on a stake in the area. Both will scare them away.

Yeah, I'm sure hanging plastic snakes from the siding of my house will go over really well with the Homeowners' Association.

Coincidentally, just a few days later, College Boy called us to show us a large owl hunting from our neighbor's roof:

I was saying that although that was a really cool sighting, I wish we could see him a little better.

I guess he heard me, the next night there he was, in a tree just off of our back deck.

Now I wonder if I could convince him to sit on a stake at the side of the house.

 

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

Menopausal Mother 

On the Border

Crispy Greek Air Fryer Broccoli

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 1/2 cups fresh broccoli florets

2 TBSP Greek salad dressing

1/4 cup pitted Kalamata olives, haved

2 TBSP crumbled Feta cheese

Directions:

*Toss the broccoli florets with the salad dressing and set aside.

*Preheat air fryer to 375 degrees. Place the florets into the basket, leaving a little space between them. Cook for 5 minutes.

*Flip the florets over and cook another 5 minutes until it starts to get browned and crunchy.

*Place the broccoli into a bowl, toss with the olives and sprinkle with the Feta cheese.

Call Me Wing Saver: Fly on the Wall

 

 

Welcome to a monthly Fly on the Wall group post. Today 2 bloggers are inviting you to catch a glimpse of what you’d see if you were a fly on the wall in our homes. Come on in and buzz around my house. At the end of my post you’ll find links to this month’s other participants’ posts.

PurDude came home for a few weeks at the end of last month and the beginning of this month. When he walked in the door, I noticed that he looked different, he had changed his haircut.

Me: You're wearing your hair differently. I like it.

PurDude: Yeah, I'm growing a mullet.

Me: A mullet? They've been out of style for years.

PurDude: They're coming back.

Me: I'm sorry to hear that.

PurDude: You just said you liked it.

Me: Well, it's short, it's not long in the back.

PurDude: Maybe I'll just keep it this length, it's still a mullet though.

Me: Ummm, well, how about we call it mullet- adjacent?

 

 

He and Hubs were talking about the Denver airport, and Hubs was telling a story about how he once went all the way down to the sub-basement to recover his lost luggage.

PurDude: You can't go down there any more, the sub-basement is the headquarters for the illumaniti.

Me: That's not true, it's a conspiracy theory.

PurDude: You can't even get in the elevators, they have guards there.

Me: Come on, you don't think that the basement has been taken over by the illuminati?

PurDude: Oh, I know it.

Me: You know it? You have, like, illuminati radar?

College Boy came to visit. We had already eaten so he decided to walk to a restaurant down the street from us and got a quesadilla. It was gigantic, and he got fries too.

When he came back in, I went to sit with him in the kitchen. It was clear he'd gotten high on the way back home.

College Boy (after eating a ton of food): Mom, I ate the fries and half of the quesadilla. I think I'll wrap up the other half and have it for dinner tomorrow, I'll be over but I'll be really late again.

Me: OK, just stick it in the fridge.

About 20 minutes later, I was upstairs, when College Boy came to find me.

College Boy: Mom?
Me: Yes?

College Boy: I have something to tell you.

Me: OK.

College Boy: I just ate tomorrow night's dinner.

LOL.

It was freezing and miserable outside, Hubs, PurDude, and I were inside watching Purdue basketball. They were losing.

Hubs had to run out and pick up College Boy. When he came back, Purdue was winning.

Me: Go stand out front.

Hubs: Huh?
Me: They were losing when you left, and now they're winning.

Hubs: And?

Me: You need to go back out. 

Hubs: I don't think so.

Me: It's the least you can do, come on, take one for the team. 

Hubs: The team's just going to have to figure out how to win without me freezing my face off.

Me: Fine, keep your face, some team player you are . . .

I was working on the blog, so I set the timer on the microwave to remind me to preheat the oven to 350 so I could get dinner into the oven on time.

The timer went off, I got up, set the timer to 350, and sat back down.

In just under 4 minutes, I finally realized what I'd done.

Cajun Potato Wedges

I was trying out a new recipe for Cajun Potato Wedges. The heat issue is tricky around here in terms of preference. 

They looked good, it was taste test time:

Hubs: Oh, those are really hot. 

PurDude: These are nowhere near spicy enough.

I guess all we needed was to find Baby Bear's porridge potato wedges.

PurDude wasn't feeling well when he first got home, his throat was really sore. He put on a mask and took a Covid test, which was negative.

On his second day, his throat was worse. I was concerned he may have strep throat and with Thanksgiving in just 2 days, insisted he go to an urgent care. He was not happy with me when he came back. His throat was red but he had no infection.

Of course, on Thanksgiving Day he woke up with a bad cough, his chest was sore from coughing. I rounded up all of our cold medicine, and was in the kitchen with College Boy reading the labels. 

Me: Looks like most of these expired in 2020.

College boy: Those won't do him any good.

Me (looking at the last bottle): This one expired in 2013.

College Boy: Oh, you should keep that one.

Me: Why?

College Boy: It might be worth something some day, it's an antique.

I really wanted to get PurDude some relief. I called all of the local grocery and big box stores but, of course, they were closed on Thanksgiving. 

College Boy suggested I call a gas station up the street and see if they were open, and if they carried any cold medicine.

Me (on the phone): You're open today?

Nice guy who answered the phone: Yes, until midnight.

Me: Do you happen to sell any cold medicine in your little mart there?
Nice guy who answered the phone: Let me go look.

Me: You don't have to do that, we'll come in.

Nice guy at the gas station: No problem. Yes, we have night time liquid, day time liquid, pills . . .

Me: That's great, thank you.

Nice guy at the gas station: Let me warn you though, they're not cheap.

Me: That's OK, nothing else is open, we're desperate, see you in a few minutes.

I hang up the phone and College Boy and I both look at each other, then we both break out laughing.

College Boy: Why did you tell him that? How much do you think they're marking that stuff up as we speak?

Turns out, you could by a small house for what they charged. And it turns out I was more than happy to pay the price.

The family was watching football in the den when I came downstairs. I went into the kitchen and turned on the light to check on dinner.

Me (looking over at the counter): Oh, I just found my glasses.

Hubs: I didn't know they were missing.

Me: Neither did I!

A fly on the wall this month would have seen me becoming an acrobat. Although not on purpose.

I was making Teriyaki Wingettes for the family. I bake them ahead of time, then heat them up on the grill. 

Of course, just before I lit the grill, it started to snow. Too lazy to put my shoes on and off each time I had to go out there, I put my flip flops on, taking them off and leaving them on the little rug at the sliding doors to the deck. Perfect.

The final time I went out, to bring the wings in, I didn't take my flip flops off at the rug. I took one step onto the kitchen floor and started flying through the air, headed for a hard crash onto the wood floor.

Did I try to put my hands down, break my fall? Nope. All I could think of was having nothing to put on the table for dinner. So with my left hand I threw that huge plate of wings onto the counter.

Saved the wings. Every one. Myself? Not so much.

 

 

 

Now click on the links below for a peek into some other homes:

Menopausal Mother

Cajun Potato Wedges

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
4 medium potatoes

4 TBSP butter

1/2 tsp cayenne pepper

1/4 tsp paprika

1/2 tsp garlic powder

3/4 tsp salt, divided

1/4 tsp pepper

OPT: ketchup or sour cream for serving

Directions:
*Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Grease a large (15 X 10) baking sheet.

*Wash and dry the potatoes. Cut in half, lengthwise, then cut each half into 4 spears, Place in a bowl.

*Melt the butter. Mix with the cayenne, paprika, garlic powder, 1/2 tsp salt, and pepper. Pour over the potatoes and mix so they are all coated (using your hands is the easiest).

*Place the potato wedges, a cut side down, singly, on the baking sheet. Bake for 25 minutes.

*Flip the potatoes over, sprinkle with remaining salt, and bake another 20 minutes.

*OPT: serve with ketchup or sour cream.

Eclipsed: Use Your Words

 

Today’s post is a monthly writing challenge. If you’re new here, this is how it works: my friend Diane and I picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases to submit to each other to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once. Both posts will be unique as we each have our own set of words we're working with.

At the end of this post, you'll find the link to Diane's post, be sure to check it out, see what words I sent her and how she used them.

 
I'm using:  natural ~ nice ~ nothing ~ noodle ~ neoprene


                          

I have absolutely no idea how this group of words made me think of the first time I bought myself a new car, but that's what popped into my head, so I'm going with it.

Before this time, from literally the day I got my license, my dad had always bought my cars, ones he picked out (and I loved, btw). But now I was out of school, working, and looking to buy a brand new car, chosen (yay) and funded (boo) by me.

I had my handy dandy little notebook of facts, whatever facts you could get in what was just before a time when Google was at everyone's fingertips. But before I ventured out to the car lots, I wanted more, a little insight into the process. I mean, we've all heard the stories about car salesmen being sharks, as we, the consumers, wade into their territorial waters.

I'm not saying their reputation is fact, definitely not. Truth is, one of my closest friends, Mark, bought, worked on, and sold used cars. And I had all the trust and respect in him that I did any other friend. He was genuinely a really nice guy.

At the time, Mark had many cars, but mostly drove a Javelin, a car he loved. It had a standard transmission, something I didn't know how to drive. Mark decided that he'd not only teach me, but on the Javelin.

I did fine until he had me stop going up a steep hill. When he told me to start again, I couldn't get the clutch/gas ratio right and the car kept rolling back while I both gave it too much gas and dragged the clutch. Deciding that nothing said I needed to know how to drive a standard anyway, I, without a word put the emergency brake on, got out of the car and walked up the hill.

Stunned, Mark drove up the hill and picked me up. We laughed all the way home (but were done with lessons, for now).

So, before I went to check out the two cars I had pared my list down to, I had Mark over to dinner. We talked about what I needed to know, what I wanted to look for, and what I should consider. And then he offered to go with me. 

Cheesy Spinach Pinwheels

We walked onto the first car lot the following Saturday, me doing exactly what I'd been told, act natural (meaning try to look less like a target and more like I'd done this before).

As the salesman walked towards us, Mark whispered in my ear. He knew who this guy was, he could sell a neoprene suit to a jailed politician. OK, that's not how Mark put it, but you get the idea. I needed to not get carried away by a smooth talker.

He needn't worry.

First, Gary did not even acknowledge me, he addressed Mark. Even when told why we were there, he continued to talk to Mark, asking what car he was interested in, if he'd like to take a test drive. 

Backbone now firmly in place, infuriated by the misogyny, I piped up and said that I was choosing between two cars, one at that dealership and the second we would be looking at elsewhere. Gary let me know that I could not compare those two cars, they were completely different, then proceeded to tell me what other makes were comparable to the one I was interested in on his lot.

I think Mark smirked when I told Gary that I could choose between any two cars I wanted.

In the end, Gary was actually helpful in making my decision, I wasn't buying anything from him. 

And hopefully, when I left, Gary's reputation for being able to sell a neoprene suit to a jailed politician went to that of a guy who couldn't sell a pool noodle, to a woman who spends the weekend at her family's pool.

PS: loved my new red Mitsubishi Eclipse. Thanks, Gary.

 

Here's the link to Diane's Use Your Words posts:

On the Border

Cheesy Spinach Pinwheels

                                               ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 tube (8 oz) refrigerated crescent sheet

3 TBSP butter

2 tsp grated parmesan

1/2 tsp garlic powder

3/4 cup fresh, cleaned spinach

1/2 cup shredded mozzarella

Directions:
*Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Lightly grease a 9 X 13 baking sheet.

*Unroll the crescent sheet onto a piece of parchment paper. Cover with a piece of plastic wrap and roll out to a 9 inch X 15 inch rectangle. Remove plastic wrap.

*Melt the butter and mix with the parmesan and garlic powder. With a pastry brush, brush most of the butter (leave a little for the top) onto the crescent sheet, leaving about a half inch border at the two long sides.

*Chop the spinach and sprinkle onto the crescent sheet, last add the mozzarella.

*Starting with one long side, roll the dough up to create a tube shape. Brush the top with the remaining butter, and cut into about 3/4 inch slices. Place on the baking sheet, open side down. Bake for about 15 minutes, until the dough starts to brown.