Baking in a Tornado: Creative Solutions: Fly on the Wall

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.