The Not So Ready Whip: 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.

There was a bee in the house, on the window in the kitchen eating area by the slider to the deck. I was freaking out and, of course, no one was home.

I grabbed the fly swatter and smacked the window. I could swear I got it, but it didn't move. That's when Hubs comes in and walks up behind me.

Hubs: What are you doing?

Me: I saw a bee. Where were you? You can't be gone when I see a bee.

Hubs (carefully removing the fly swatter from my hand): It's OK, why don't you go sit down, maybe put your glasses on, he can't get you.

Yeah, the bee was on the window. The outside of the window.

 

 

Anyone who follows my Baking In A Tornado FB page had a little glimpse into what I'm dealing with here:

I'm telling you, the struggle is real.

It was the middle of a broiling hot afternoon, and all I could think of was cooling off.

College Boy called, he was at the Taco Bell around the corner from the house getting a volcano something or other and wanted to know if I wanted anything. I don't like Taco Bell to begin with, but hot spicy food is the opposite of what I was thinking. I told him that since they don't serve milkshakes, I'd pass.

Later that night, he called again. He was driving by another fast food restaurant and thought he'd stop and get milkshakes for himself, Hubs and I.

Hubs (walking into the room): Oh, who were you talking to?

Me: College Boy, he's bringing us all milkshakes. You're welcome.

Hubs: Umm, thank you. But why am I thanking you?

Me: Because subliminal messaging. It's a thing. And I am the master.

Hubs was just hanging around the house so it didn't matter but, of course, I had to say something:

Me: I think your shirt is on inside out.

Hubs (looking down): I don't think so, looks fine to me.

Me (rolling my eyes): Well, unless you're James Bond, I'm pretty sure the pocket goes on the outside.

I had tried a new recipe, a Mint Cookie Ice Cream Cake. When I went to take a picture it, I wanted just a little dollop of whipped cream in the center of the top. I decided, rather than making a whole batch of whipped cream just for the 1 TBSP I'd need for the pic, to just use Redi Whip.

We were all out. I checked a few grocery store websites to see who had it in stock nearby, and at what price.

At the second nearby store website, I typed in "Redi Whip," and besides the actual Redi Whip, some other options came up, like the store brand version, and Cool Whip, and . . .

Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas any more.

Mint Cookie Ice Cream Cake

Listen, everyone knows that you don't leave just a tiny bit of something. It's just rude. Finish it off and open a new one for the next person, that's what I believe.

I was making dinner, Fiery Shrimp. Hubs wasn't home yet, and College Boy was coming for dinner too. I got to the part where you add 2 TBSP white wine. I pulled the bottle out of the fridge, added the wine and the rest of the ingredients.

When I went to recork the wine and put it back in the fridge, I realized there wasn't much left, maybe 1/4 cup  1/2 cup  1 cup . . . I don't know, not much. I was obliged to finish it off and put another bottle in the fridge to cool.

Which was how Hubs and College ended up walking into the kitchen as I was guzzling wine straight from the bottle. 

I tried to explain that I was just being considerate but . . . let's just say that didn't go over so well.

It's amazing to me that someone always shows up in all of those moments that I'd prefer no one witness.

So, of course, Hubs walks into the kitchen just as I'm taking my shoes out of the fridge.

Hubs: Are those your shoes?

Me: Yup.

Hubs: Are you taking them out of the fridge?
Me: Maybe.

Hubs: Why would your shoes be in there?

Me: Think before you answer . . . do you really want to know?

Hubs (walking away): I think I'm good.

You better be good too, 'cause I'm not explaining it to you either. 

I was in the kitchen putting the groceries away when my fingernail bent all the way back. I yelled "ouch."

Hubs was down in his man cave and I must have screamed louder than I thought, because he came up to see if I was OK.

The next day, we were out front when I noticed that way low on that fingernail I bent back, just under the skin, it was black and blue.

"Look at this," I called out to Hubs, holding up my finger to show him.

Apparently, the neighbors were just coming out of their house. They took one look at me, on the front lawn giving my husband the finger, and abruptly turned around and hurried back in their front door.

For the past year or so, College Boy has been eating very little meat, he prefers fish and vegetables. Sometimes, in some ways, he may eat beef or chicken, but not often.

This can be a problem when he comes in at dinner time and I'm making something he doesn't necessarily want to eat. He wants to stay, and I want him to stay, but we need to figure something out. 

This day, I had grilled chicken. I suggested I chop up some of the chicken, mix it with mayo and green onions, roll it up in a tortilla with lettuce and cheese. 

College Boy thought that would be a good way to get dinner into him.

Get dinner into him? My grown son needs a way to get my cooking into him? Well, that's a stab to the heart.

PS: The chicken roll up was delish.

PPS: No one seemed to have any trouble getting the Mint Cookie Ice Cream Cake into them.

I was in the bathroom one afternoon when I saw that there was no toilet paper on the roll. I was so angry, this is a pet peeve of mine and everyone knows it. So inconsiderate.

After I was done in the bathroom, and had replaced the roll, I was ready to give someone a piece of my mind.

I went out into the front hall, so you could hear me on all 3 floors.

Me (yelling): OK, WHO DID NOT REPLACE THE TOILET PAPER?

Nothing.

Me (even angrier): DO NOT IGNORE ME. WHO DID NOT REPLACE THE TOILET PAPER?

I was trying to decide whether to start upstairs or downstairs, when I realized everyone was at work, I was alone in the house.

So, who didn't replace the toilet paper? Ummm . . . me?

 

 

 

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

Menopausal Mother

Mint Cookie Ice Cream Cake

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
7 - 8 mint chocolate chip ice cream sandwiches

1 carton (48 oz) cookies and cream ice cream

12 chocolate covered mint wafer cookies, divided

2 TBSP chocolate syrup

Directions:
*Take the bottom off of a 9 inch springform pan. Using a very long piece of plastic wrap, cover the sides of the pan so there is a little hangover at the bottom, the rest hanging over the top. Place the bottom back on the pan.

*Cut the ice cream sandwiches in half. Arrange them, cut side down, along the plastic wrap covered sides of the pan and place in the freezer.

*Crush 8 of the cookies to crumbs and set aside. Chop the other 4 cookies into pieces.

*Place the cookies and cream ice cream in a bowl on the counter for 10 minutes to start to soften. Cut in the 4 chopped cookies and spoon the ice cream into the springform pan, leaving the ice cream sandwich pieces along the edges. Press down gently and make sure the top is even. Freeze for one hour.

*Drizzle the chocolate syrup over the cake, then sprinkle the cookie crumbs along the sides. Freeze until hardened (works best to just freeze overnight).

Take Your Swing: 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 share what we all came up with.

 This month's number is 31. 
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 Take Your Swing.

~ I've been playing the lottery. A lot. If you follow this blog's facebook page (if not, stop by and join us), you've probably seen the memes I've posted. About my losses {{sob}}.

~ Actually, it's Hubs who plays, on my behalf. I had chosen some numbers many years ago, ones that have meaning to me. Numbers I associated with luck, like dates of birth.

~ Hubs must have those numbers because every now and then in the past, but regularly lately as the pot approaches a billion dollars, he comes home and hands me a ticket.

~ Some say playing is foolish, chances of winning are one in a bazillion. But . . . two dollars isn't a hit to the budget, someone ultimately wins, and the lesser prizes are great.

~ Try a new recipe, or eat the same old things. Sometimes we take our chances. Because this I know, odds are meaningless if you don't play. To win, you gotta play.

Orange Everything Chicken

~ I know people, even now, who say similar things about voting: there are over a hundred million Americans registered to vote, what are my chances of affecting the win?

~ I'm a huge Red Sox fan, so let me say this: step up to the plate (ballot box) and swing for the fences. We can't win if we don't all play. 

Here are links to the other Word Counters posts:

On the Border 

Messymimi’s Meanderings 

Orange Everything Chicken         
                                                ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
2 large boneless, skinless chicken breast halves

2/3 cup orange juice

1 tsp orange zest

1 tsp Everything Bagel Seasoning, my recipe HERE

Directions:

*Cut each chicken breast half into 3 - 4 pieces of similar thickness.

*Mix together the orange juice, orange zest, and Everything Bagel Seasoning. Place the chicken pieces into a resealable bag and pour the marinade into the bag with the chicken. Refrigerate for 4 hours, turning the bag now and then to be sure all of the chicken pieces are coated.

*Preheat your grill to medium, about 350 degrees. Place the chicken pieces on the grill and discard the remaining marinade. How long you need to grill your chicken will depend on the thickness of the pieces and the heat of your grill, approximately 7 - 10 minutes per side, until the chicken is completely cooked all the way through.

Cheese Money and an Old Lady Purse: 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:  ambitious ~ ambiguous ~ anatomy ~ arc ~ anything

                          
I had a dream recently. I don't know if I don't have them often, or I just don't remember them. I haven't woken up aware of one for a very long time. This time I did, and what I could recall, was odd. To say the least. 

I've been thinking about it for a few days, trying to make sense of it. I'm not sure why it bothered me, it was a dream after all.

And yet, I really wanted to make sense of it.

I had absolutely no intention of writing about it today, but I saw these words Diane sent me and "ambiguous," "anatomy," "arc," they all brought back the dream.

I know it's ambitious, to try to analyze a dream to begin with, but especially since they are so ambiguous. Not only do we wake up without the puzzle put together, we don't even have all of the pieces.

Here's what I remember, not just what I saw in my mind's eye but what I was thinking, and my impressions, once awake, of what I hadn't been (but maybe should have) been thinking.

I had climbed up a rounded flight of stairs in a very old building. The floor below, I knew, was bustling with activity, an indoor space like at Faneuil Hall in Boston, artisan shops, florists, prepared foods, and a farmer's market.

I get the sense that I was in my late 30s, but I was dressed like an old lady. I wore a dress, belted at the waste, nylons, and sensible shoes. I was holding what I can only describe as an old lady purse. You know, black, wider in the bottom, tapering off to a smaller flat top with handles on either side. The purse was being held by the short handles, no over the shoulder option. It was flat, as though there wasn't anything in it, yet I knew I had, at least my wallet and money.

At the top of the stairs was a long thin hallway, shaped in an arc, with doors along the left side only. The hallway was just shaped like a half circle, but it arced up as well, each door higher than the last. All the way up to the middle, where the hall declined to another set of stairs, even with the ones I had climbed, going back down.

I got the sense that each door was an apartment, and I was to visit each one before heading back down the other staircase. 

On the first door, there was a picture, it looked like it was cut out of a magazine, of an arm. I wasn't curious, didn't knock, and walked right in the door to a bedroom. I chatted for a short time with the person on the bed and moved on. I was entering the third room when I became aware of a few things: all rooms were the same, inhabited by a different person, dressed, appearing healthy, unconcerned that I walked right in and willing to chat, and they all had a picture of a different part of the anatomy on the door. The pictures seemed to correlate to nothing, and were not discussed in our short superficial chats.

I walked down the second set of stairs, intending to purchase broccoli and onions for my dinner casserole at the farmer's market on the first floor.

Hash Brown Dinner Casserole

When paying, I realized I didn't have my purse. I looked over to the little wooden table where I'd sat before going upstairs. The purse wasn't there, but 3 snack size string cheese logs that I had apparently left on the table were there. I went over and grabbed the cheese, which was luckily exactly the amount I needed to pay for my groceries. I hooked the plastic bag over my wrist and started walking away from the cashier.

And woke up.

So . . . help me out here, what is my subconscious mind trying to tell me?

A) Instead of reading mysteries, I should write one: The Case of the Missing Old Lady Purse.

B) Don't spend too long in rooms with strangers unless you really want to know about that whole body parts thing.

C) I need to be buying my groceries with string cheese more often.

D) Sleep at your own risk.

E) All of the above.

Or maybe you have your own interpretation you'd like to share?

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

On the Border

Hash Brown Dinner Casserole

                                               ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 1/2 cups broccoli florets, cut small

2 cups cooked chicken

1 bag (20 oz) potato shreds

1/3 cup chopped onion

1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese

1 can (10.5 oz) cream of potato soup

1 cup sour cream

1 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

1/8 tsp cayenne

2/3 cup crushed potato chips

3 TBSP butter, melted

1 tsp paprika

Directions:
*Steam the broccoli in the microwave for 1 minute. Chop the chicken.

*Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease an 8 X 11 baking dish.

*In a large bowl, mix together the broccoli, chicken, potato shreds, onion, cheese, soup, sour cream, salt, pepper, and cayenne. Pour evenly into the prepared baking dish.

*Sprinkle with the crushed potato chips, drizzle with the melted butter and sprinkle with the paprika.

*Bake for 25 minutes, covered. Uncover and bake for another 20 minutes.