I Feel Seen

Our master bedroom is on the top floor of our house. There is a window over the jacuzzi tub, with wood blinds. I usually keep the blinds open to let light into the bathroom, since there are no windows on the house next door that face my bathroom window.

When we first moved in, over 20 years ago, Hubs asked me about not closing the blinds. It is a bathroom, after all, where we're naked when going in and out of the bath or shower. I told him he was welcome to close them when he's in there if he'd prefer, but teased him that the only way anyone would be able to see him that high up would be if their hovercraft was way off course.

Apparently, at the time, there was a second scenario. I learned that the hard way a month later when, wrapped in a towel fresh from my morning shower, I went to the mirrors opposite that window and caught sight of workers on my neighbor's roof.

 

Who hopefully did not catch sight of me.

Fast forward 20 years, to a time when the privacy I held dear pretty much does not exist anymore. Companies track my every mouse click online. A psychopathic billionaire has access to all of my personal, supposedly private banking, voting, medical, etc information on line. The cable company requires me to send a selfie or a copy of my license in order to allow me to get into my cable account (umm, no, I'll stay out). 

My life is an open book. And I decidedly did not open it.

And now . . .

. . . one recent night after dinner, we'd settled down with our Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Layer Bars for dessert, intending to spend a quiet night in the den. 

Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Layer Bars

At one point I got up to walk around a bit and when I looked outside, saw something I couldn't explain.

There was a light in the sky. And it was just sitting there. I watched it for some time, even got out the binoculars. Every now and then, I thought I saw a tiny flash of green or red. And sometimes it was just a circle of light, other times it looked like there were short rays coming out of each side. But it didn't move from that spot.

Huh?

Hubs looked at it. College Boy looked at it. We couldn't figure it out. It couldn't be an aircraft, nor the only star in the whole sky. We thought drones made noise, but we stepped outside and it was absolutely silent. 

An hour or so later we looked out and it was still there. So probably a drone, but what would a drone be doing sitting over a quiet Midwest neighborhood for hours at a time?

A few hours later, curiosity got the best of me and I looked outside. It was pitch black out now, still no stars, and it remained deathly quiet. But it was still there. It had moved to the right, and lower, at some point (I wish I had happened to see that), but it was just sitting. Now, in a different spot.

We can rule out rogue hovercraft, aircraft, star, and UFO, 'cause if it was a UFO it would have beamed up a fine specimen like me by now. So it's got to be a drone, right?

What was it doing? Peeping?

Seriously, I haven't felt this exposed since coming out of the shower to find workers on the neighbor's roof.

I gotta tell you the truth. I feel seen.

And not in a good way.

Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Layer Bars

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

25 dark chocolate filled sandwich cookies, divided

6 TBSP melted butter

1 cup Butterfingers baking bits

1 cup dark chocolate chips

1/2 cup peanut butter baking chips

6 mini Reese's cups, quartered

1/2 cup Reese's pieces

1 can (14 oz) sweetened condensed milk

1/4 cup crunchy peanut butter

3 TBSP chocolate syrup

Directions:
*Grease a 9 X 13 baking pan. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

*Crush 18 of the cookies to crumbs. Mix with the melted butter and pat into the bottom of the prepared pan.

*Chop the remaining cookies and sprinkle over the crust, followed by the dark chocolate chips, then peanut butter baking chips, then quartered mini Reese's cups, then the Reese's pieces.

*Whisk together the sweetened condensed milk, peanut butter, and chocolate syrup. Pour evenly over the top of the other ingredients.

*Bake for 30 - 35 minutes, until the center is set and the edges start to brown. Cool completely before cutting.

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.

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.