Peanuts and Clown Pants: 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 love the woman who cleans my house. But we do sometimes have a communication issue. I try to text her in Spanish, but it takes some effort for me to try to figure out how to say what I want to say within the boundaries of the Spanish words I know.

I've used a translate app before, but that takes time too. So if I'm in a rush, I'll just text her in English. Which sometimes works . . .

Me: Hi, G, hope you are well. I haven't heard from you, do you know when you'll be cleaning my house next?

G: Thank you, Karen! Feel free to write to her later.

. . . and sometimes, not so much.

Hubs had been on the phone with College Boy in the afternoon. Later, as I went to start dinner:

Me: Will College Boy be here for dinner?
Hubs: I don't know.

Me: You asked him when you were talking to him earlier, I heard you.

Hubs: I don't think so.

Me: Listen, either you're getting senile or I'm hallucinating.

Hubs: I think you're hallucinating.

Me: I think you're getting senile.

Could be we're both right. Yeah, getting old is a lot of fun.

Hubs walks up when I'm taking a picture.

Hubs: What are you doing?
Me: I'm taking a picture.

Hubs: Of your peanuts? You usually only take pictures of food you cook, why the peanuts?
Me: These are not just any peanuts, that one in the middle is symbolic.

Hubs: Symbolic? A peanut? Symbolic of what?

Me: That there's one in every crowd.

I was watching a commercial for a medication. They're quickly listing off the possible side effects. Then they get to a bacterial infection between the anus and the genitals.

And I have to wonder, at what point do you think you'd be better off just having the disease?

PurDude called. I was up in the kitchen and talked to him for a while. Hubs was down in the man cave, so when I finished talking, I brought my phone down to him.

He comes back upstairs as he's wrapping up the call, says "good-bye," and hands me my cell. As I go to close it . . .

Me: What did you do to my phone?
Hubs: Nothing, I talked on it then handed it back to you.

So, I look at my phone. Facebook is open, my settings are open, some emergency thing I've never seen before is open, my bluetooth has been turned on, and my wifi connection has been turned off.

Ugh, that man . . .

Crispy Pan Fried Flounder

Hubs has a habit of creating piles of stuff, paperwork for the most part. He rarely even looks what's at the bottom, just keeps building the pile until he decides to start a second one. I'm constantly having to make him go through them and get rid of what he doesn't need. Which is about 90% of what he's got piled up.

One afternoon, it was clear he was starting a second pile on the coffee table in the man cave, so I told him he better not dare do another thing until he got rid of whatever he didn't need.

Later, I had gone down the stairs and nothing had changed.

Me: I can see your junk.

When, from the top of the stairs I hear my son, who I hadn't realized had come in the house:

College Boy: Um, maybe this is a bad time.

Me (running up the stairs): No, not that junk!

Did my kid just hear me tell my Husband I could see his junk? Well, yes, yes I did.

 

In the spirit of taking the bad with the good, I had some comments on my last blog post:

Comment: Too good, all of it. Thank you for sharing your world with us.

and another:

Comment: I enjoyed your Fly on the Wall, several chuckles . . .

and one more:

Comment: It's just so fun to explore your world for a while every month. Thank you.

I love knowing that my post is entertaining, knowing I can bring a chuckle to someone's day is so satisfying. But no time to relish in a job well done, when the next comment showed up:

Comment: What a long post, I read most of it before my mind going numb and my eyes just looking at the screen taking nothing in. Anyway . . .

Yeah, what was I just saying about there being one in every crowd? I'm just hoping there's only one.

Each Monday we watch for the college basketball rankings to be posted with the hopes of a good spot in the top 25 for Purdue. They'd had some pretty amazing seasons, frequently falling into the #1 spot, but this year they'd lost some key players. They stayed in the top 25, but not at the top. In the past few weeks, they'd been climbing.

So on this particular Monday, we anxiously checked out the new ranking. We were both pleased and perplexed.

It seems they were reporting Purdue rising 2 spots from #11 to # 10.

ESPN may be a great resource for sports lovers. But clearly can't be counted on for any basic math.

In the vein of "he who smelt it, dealt it," and "silent but deadly," I was unfortunate enough to have been taught a new saying recently: 

Colon music.

Ever heard it referred to as that? Now you have. No need to thank me.

I love living in the age of the internet. It's so satisfying to have answers to many of my questions right at my fingertips. No checking encyclopedias or waiting for the library to open, just type in your question and voila.

Well, mostly.

We'd been watching a basketball rivalry. Purdue was playing Indiana University. The players on the court were wearing their uniform shorts, but many players not going into the game had on their warmup gear.

And I had questions. Ones I don't think Google (or an encyclopedia, even) could answer.

Like who the hell decided it was a good idea to dress the basketball team in clown pants?

 

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

Menopausal Mother 

On the Border

Crispy Pan Fried Flounder

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

3/4# flounder fillets

1/4 cup milk

1/2 cup flour

2 TBSP corn starch

3/4 tsp salt

1/4 pepper

1/2 tsp paprika

3 TBSP butter

2 TBSP oil

OPT: lemon slices or tartar sauce for serving 

Directions:

*Cut each of the flounder fillets into thirds.

*Place milk in a bowl. Mix together flour, corn starch, salt, pepper, and paprika on a plate.

*Dip each piece of fish, individually, into the milk, then coat all sides with the flour mixture, and move to a plate covered with wax paper. Refrigerate for 1 hour.

*In a large skillet, over medium heat, heat the butter and oil until hot and bubbly.

*Add the fish to the pan. Cook for about 2 minutes, until the bottoms are brown. If they start to get too dark, lower the heat just a little.

*Flip the fish pieces over and pan fry for just another minute or 2, until the other side browns. Pierce with a fork to be sure the fish is cooked through and flaky.

*Remove from pan to paper towels to drain.

*OPT: serve with lemon slices or tartar sauce.

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.

That Tired: 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'd had about half of the windows replaced on our house last month. It was incredibly expensive, especially since I was adamant that we go with the company most able to replace our floor to (almost) ceiling windows in the kitchen looking out to the woods with the least amount of intrusion on our view. Most companies' windows had such large frames we'd lose a lot of that view.

So, we ended up going with a more expensive option. The bill was $50,000.

This month, Hubs put in the paperwork with our power company to get a rebate they offered, per window, for those windows that meet a specific insulation threshold. All of ours did. A few days later, I got a text from Hubs:

Hubs: I forgot to tell you I submitted the rebate request online for the windows. It could take up to 60 days to get it.

Me: It won't be a credit on our bill, they'll send us a check?

Hubs: Yes, $825.

Me: That's all? I was hoping it would be for $50,000.

Hubs: Well, I can always go to the casino, put it all on black . . .

Like many people, I'm useless without my morning coffee. My brain just doesn't work.

But then after 2 weeks of cooking special meals every night including all of PurDude's favorites, Thanksgiving, College Boy's Birthday, and our Hanukkah dinner (which we celebrate while PurDude is here), along with snacks and desserts, I was tired!

I had poured myself my first cup, grabbed my morning vitamin, put the vitamin bottle away and sat down in the den to let the coffee do it's thing to my brain.

It wasn't until later in the morning, after both of my cups of coffee, when I went to put my mug in the dishwasher. And found my bottle of vitamins in there.

It was so great having the whole family together for Thanksgiving. PurDude drove in from Colorado for 2 weeks. I love that he can stay so long, but I also hate that he's so far away the rest of the year.

I am so grateful that College Boy is local, at least I have one of the boys nearby. 

Two days before Thanksgiving, College Boy flew back to NYC for a concert he wanted to see. While he's gone he sends me pics, but the first one he sent concerned me. 

Apparently NYC has weed delivery trucks. And just like that I may have none of my sons living nearby. I mean, pot delivery trucks? How am I supposed to compete with that?

As I said, tired.

Each day I post online word game results to my Baking In A Tornado FB page, and many people share their scores there too. I had been playing Nerdle, a math game one night in those 2 weeks, and had the answer figured out, I'd win the game in 4 tries, I just had to switch 2 numbers (the 2 purple squares shown in the third row, below) from my third try.

But in the 4th guess, I didn't switch the numbers, I typed in the exact same wrong answer from my 3rd guess. Yes, I was that tired.

As I said, I had tons of snacks and desserts around. Most of us have indiscriminate sweet tooths, but Hubs really doesn't like things super sweet.

He wanted to figure out what to have for dessert one night, and asked me about the options. I had Chocolate Covered Brownie Balls, Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Layer Bars, and some Cookie Butter Shortbreads.

Hubs (reaching for the cookies): Well, this seems like something I'd be able to eat.

Me: Just what every home baker wants to hear.

Cookie Butter Shortbreads

And because the cook needed even more insults:

The funny thing about PurDude coming home over Thanksgiving and my making all of his favorite meals, is that I actually make one he doesn't like. Yes, PurDude does not like turkey.

We were watching a Purdue basketball game while the turkey was doing its thing in the oven, and at half time, some of the Purdue players were asked about what their favorite Thanksgiving dishes are. One player said that at his house, they don't have turkey, they always have fillets.

PurDude: Ooh, I want to go to his house for Thanksgiving.

The exhausted cook (yeah that's me): Thanks, kid.

 

And even more tired:

We were having a drink and snacks in the afternoon. I was having a glass of wine, hubs was having a can of beer, and PurDude was having a bottle of beer. Hubs had brought the beers up from the basement fridge. I watched while he opened the bottle with his bare hands.

Me: You need a bottle opener for that, it's not a screw off top.

Hubs (shaking his hand): Well, it is now.

Me (looking at his hand): Did you break your leg?

Hubs: No, but I have a pretty deep indentation in my hand.

Break your leg? Did I say "break your leg?' Yeah, I was that exhausted.

When it comes to laptops, there's new, and then there's new new.

I needed a new laptop, it's where I do my blog writing and picture editing. I'll only get one when PurDude is here because he knows how to get the new one set up and working the way I need it to. 

On the day we were celebrating Hanukkah, he and Hubs went to the store to get a laptop for me as a surprise. They had none of the one Hubs wanted for me in stock, but they had one that had been purchased and returned, certified to be in excellent condition. Hubs bought it.

PurDude spent the next day and a half setting it all up exactly as I wanted it. It was when I went to use it that we realized it was not in excellent condition, it was defective.

It was the night before Thanksgiving, and there was exactly one of the laptops Hubs wanted for me at another store, about 1/2 hour away. They ordered it, brought it home, and PurDude worked to get the new one set up and the old one wiped so it could be returned the day after Thanksgiving.

But it got a little difficult, figuring out which one was which, making sure the correct one was updated and the correct one was wiped.

Hubs: How is the new laptop working for you?

Me: This is the new one I'm using. Do you mean the new one, or the new, new one?
Hubs: Which one are you using?

Me: I'm still using the new one. 

Hubs: Not the new, new?
Me: No, PurDude is still setting up the new, new.

And I made him check 3 times before wiping the laptop to be sure it was the new, not the new, new.

And the next day, I had Hubs check the laptop before he returned it to be sure it was the new, not the new, new.

Phew.

SO tired.

We were having pizza for dinner. Hubs and PurDude decided to have a beer with dinner. I ran down to the basement, where we have a freezer and a second fridge.

Hubs: You didn't have to go down, I would have gone.

Me: No problem.

Hubs: What took so long.

Me: I had a hard time trying to find your beer in the freezer.

Hubs (laughing): Freezer?
Me: Don't ask.

We sit down to dinner. Hubs opens the can a brought for him and started to choke.

Hubs: This isn't beer.

Me (looking at the can): Oh, looks like that's one of College Boy's energy drinks.

Hubs: I will never let you go downstairs to get me a beer again.

Me: Works for me.

Last month I talked about College Boy. He buys and sells limited edition and rare albums, most all genres, but mostly rap. He flew into NYC for 2 days to go to a pop up store a local underground rapper (one of College Boys' favorites) was having to sell his newest album and merchandise. He spent the day with the artist, talked to his wife, and had his picture taken in some of the clothing being sold.

This month, he flew back to NYC. Another favorite artist who almost never does live concerts, was doing one at Lincoln Center on the night before Thanksgiving. College Boy was comp'd a ticket, merchandise, and a quick meeting with the artist.

It was a great experience, but I was really concerned. He was flying into NYC the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and flying home out of Newark, NJ on Thanksgiving Day. Air travel is a nightmare at the best of times, but two days before Thanksgiving? He could have ended up stuck anywhere.

Flights were perfect. He was SO lucky.

Until:

Two days after he got home, an initial bill came in the mail for over $400. Someone went into the Verizon store in Newark, started an account with College Boy's name and address, and walked out with phones and an iPad at a charge of over $400 per month (X 36 months = a hell of a lot of money). 

So, a deferred nightmare.

 

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

Menopausal Mother 

On the Border

Cookie Butter Shortbreads

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 3/4 sticks butter, room temperature

1/2 cup speculoos (cookie butter)

1/4 tsp cinnamon

1/8 tsp nutmeg

1 cup powdered sugar

2 cups flour

OPT: colored sanding sugar and/or cinnamon sugar

Directions:
*Cream the butter, cookie butter, cinnamon and nutmeg until smooth. Slowly, starting on the lowest speed until incorporated, beat in the powdered sugar. Mix in the flour.

*Divide the dough in half and roll each half into a tube about 8 inches long. Roll, individually, into plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least an hour.

*Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cover baking sheets with parchment paper.

*Slice the dough into about 3 1/2 dozen 1/4 inch rounds. *OPT: you can bake some or all as is, or you can press some or all of the tops of each cookie into the colored sanding sugar, or a mixture of cinnamon and sugar. 

*Arrange on the baking sheets and bake for 12 minutes.