Coffee and cats
Who is to say
How these cats know
What’s in my cup each day.
But they do
Or at least they must
Because when my cup is set down,
It’s secret is a bust.
I keep my cup covered
To help in case of a spill
That is inevitable
With a swipe and a grin.
I swear my cats grin
When they swipe at my cup
The dogs wait under the edge
Of the table looking up
I think that they
are in cahoots
The cats swipe
The dogs lick
Nothing is sacred
From the juice they pick.
So I actually got a sign
From my husband
“Do not leave food unsupervised!”
Because of the cats
My cups of coffee
And the puddle that lies
(On the floor.)
It was Sunday, just an ordinary Sunday for us… wake up, clean up, go to church, meet with congregation people for brunch at a local cafe.
I was on an Eggs Benedict kick, which has since become a Veggie Omelette (no onions). I order a hot water so that I can steep my own tea. I’m becoming a foo-foo tea snob… that story is for another day.
Anyway, this past Sunday, we had a full eight top, all individual tickets, and multiple trips for our server. She and I have developed a rapport which is half of the reason I like the cafe so much.
She was going around the table to get the orders when I noticed that everybody was ordering “Rooster Fries”. I asked what the big deal was and other than listing what all is included, the folks would either sigh or vehemently demonstrate their version of how good this particular item is.
My server agreed with the rest of my table mates. She even threw in an, “I love it!” I was tempted, but I went with my usual, veggie omelette. My husband stuck to his regular order too. We usually get an a’la carte blueberry pancake to share as well.
The group “booed” our lack of adventure in dining. So I threw in an order of Rooster Fries too.
When the food arrived, everyone dug in. I decided to try the fries first… and oh-my-Lord they were amazing!
The table was silent and I don’t think folks came up for air between bites. I know that I was nose deep into the Fries before I looked at my husband. He hadn’t ordered the fries. We were going to share the blueberry pancake and the fries at home -later.
I realized that he knew I was in oblivion and even my omelette wasn’t being touched. That would have to go home with us.
When I came up for air, I took a spot of tea and looked over at my darling husband, who was pretending to pout. The blueberry pancake had been cut in half and his eyes wandered over to the fries. There was definitely a sense of “no fairsies” coming from him.
I said that I would “just have them to take home too” (all three bites of it). Lest you forget, the halves of blueberry pancake no longer existed. He enjoyed the WHOLE pancake.
True to self, we walked out carrying two “To Go” boxes in hand. One for my Veggie Omelette and one for the Rooster Fries. We were both amused. This is life.
I’ve always loved flowers.
As I have rolled myself into “adulthood”, I have discovered that I prefer flowers in their semi-natural beds. A lot of people, and I mean A LOT of people, in my town, are Master Gardeners. I figured that growing my own flowers would be a nice hobby.
Plus, I would have a reason to go outside and get my Vitamin D too. Win, win!
I decided to try gardening. The key word here is try.
I now understand why gardeners threaten trespassers with their lives. The frustration and anger of one little, beautiful and helpless flower being stepped on is a legitimate defense – or at least it should be.
Dear Master Gardeners, I apologize for dancing on your Daffodils and ignoring the placement of your Irises.
Day One: First we (me, husband, mother). had to weed and Roto-till the spaces for the separate areas for the different beds. Within ten minutes we voted and all chipped in to hire the neighbor kid to do it. He did. Whew!
Day Two: Cover all exposed areas with black paper…. “hey neighbor!”
Day Three: My mother came over to help me roll out pre-seeded lavender bed rolls ordered from Groupon. I supposedly had 50,000 seeds so at least one seedling had to work.
Create amazing decor for the flower beds: ummm… skip.
Maintenance: Keep checking on the Groupon guaranteed Rolls. Luckily I could look into my garden from the air conditioned living room to check on it daily.
Water: We still have our timer from Christmas lights, that will work. Or so I thought… Ok not really… my garden was flooded by; oh I’d say five days into this. We now had quicksand.
I could see the neighbor kids’ foot prints in the sand puddling with water. I simply needed to turn off the timer… Done.
It was supposed to be a very rainy week anyway.
Weeds: The weeds grew and grew. They were taller than me and had nothing to do with or about the water or lavender.
I have NOT seen even one plant of my Groupon 💯 guarantee. My neighbor kid is going to be so mad when he comes back from Boot Camp!
All involved read the directions from Groupon carefully…
My mother and I re-read the directions… no lavender.
Well… it wasn’t until I realized that I physically couldn’t do much more than trap my neighbor kid, tell him how sick I am, get him to do the hard stuff, and then flood everything while he was in boot camp; that maybe I was a bit overzealous about my new hobby.
I couldn’t muster up the energy to be a gardener. I am just too sensitive to temperatures, brightness, bug bites, bending over and everything it takes to grow flowers purposefully.
I had one job. One ☝️. Discover and create a beautiful garden. I failed. My husband knew how upsetting it was for me. He took me to the cute little store in Bay City and I found a bunch of fake flowers (lavender of course) to purchase and enjoy at home.
Sometimes mental health is brushed aside when a physical task fails. I mean, who goes through the fuss and anticipation of a project wanting to be a failure? It’s a tough pill to swallow. His actions, my mom’s help and of course the neighbor kid were here working their butts off because my symptoms made me miserable while the heat only exasperated them. They did all of that in my best interest. So Thank You!
I guess my body health (brain included) needs some more time to hopefully heal. When it will let me know; remains to be seen.
I kid you not…
It was a nice afternoon and I was hungry. The lunch time commercials had just run their course and I wanted to whip something up right away. I remembered an infomercial or maybe a cooking show that had some fancy bacon recipes and ways to “style” bacon. I was feeling extra brave, like I had pancake flippers for hands. Watch out world I’m making a BLT (kinda).
Aside from not having any bread or lettuce, I could use other substitutes. We did happen to have five cherry tomatoes and fresh bacon though. I was set to make a Creative Chef Decision I will use what we have and work it out as I go.
I used: plain bagels
to make a sandwich (?.?) Right? Who needs lettuce and bread? Ha!
Okay, I can totally do this. My husband recommended the muffin tin; but, I had just deemed myself a Goddess of all things cooking. I wanted to surprise him with a tastey lunch! This was so exciting!
(Dude I am so creative, I should have my own infomercial, show or commercial!!!!!)
Anyway, I got the bagels in the toaster, sliced the tiny tomatoes, pulled out the deli meats and found three toothpicks for the bacon. And that’s when it hit me!
The smell of the bagels burning in the toaster got my attention. My darling husband offered to help at this point… he could smell the bagels too. The bacon was doing it’s sizzle, pop, sizzle, smell good thing. I had wrapped the upside down muffin tin with the bacon and tooth-picked the strip ends together. It’s almost time for them to be done.
I turned away from the bacon contraption to put mayo and turkey on the bagels. I figured that the bacon was pretty much done, because of the smell… this is where I realized that this lunch was not going to be all that I had hoped.
The bacon was sticking to the muffin tin cups and they were burning. The smoke was filling the room. I started coughing and my eyes were tearing up horribly. I took the pan outside and dropped it, actually it was more like, I threw it.
I couldn’t breathe or see; and I’m not exaggerating about this part. Everything was now being turned off and stopped. I needed to be outside for fresh air. I looked over to the cookie sheet and muffin tin slowly melting into each other. I was mad at them -traitors. Teflon was dripping and melting between the two pans and I had been/was inhaling it.
We made do with what we had left over -five sliced cherry tomatoes, and kept the house open all night. It needed to be aired out. I was still coughing and my eyes were watering once in awhile. My husband experienced the same symptoms as I had. We were quite a sight, I’m certain.
Here’s what I don’t understand,
I can’t cook. I have some friends whose families swear by their generations of recipes and home cooking. I had a super dinner the other night, it was all garden fresh and I just couldn’t get enough –at a friends’ house.
Back to the Teflon melting within my cook ware. I didn’t freak out too much until I woke up the next day. I remembered someone, somewhere had mentioned something about Teflon being a bad thing. Time for some research…
“…The Environmental Working Group (EWG), a nonprofit advocacy group, advises that consumers avoid even the newer generation of nonstick cookware and kitchen utensils, favoring stainless-steel and cast-iron pots and pans…” (Teflon)
“No matter what you use, ventilate your kitchen while cooking to minimize inhaling fumes (no fumes are good fumes).” “…And keep in mind that nonstick cookware is just one source of fluorinated chemicals…”. (Science of Teflon)
I had two pans which were non-stick, teflon treated and they had some sad looking bacon stuck to them. The pans had gotten so hot on the stove top that they were cooking themselves into themselves. Plus the smoke from the bagels and bacon were all inhaled by yours truly. Did you know that,
Cooking with Chemicals
Over the decades, it’s been reported that the fumes that result from heating these pots and pans to very high temperatures (over 660°F) could cause temporary coughing, fever, and a sore throat—what’s been referred to as “Teflon flu” (or medically as polymer fume fever). The fumes have also been responsible for killing many pet birds, which have very sensitive respiratory tracts. Though temperatures can reach up to 500°F or so under normal cooking conditions, the problem occurs mostly when a pan, especially one without any food in it, is left unattended on the stove, since that can greatly increase the temperature.
The moral of this story is that I am not built for creative cooking. Creative Writing, that’s great. I can handle that. I suppose I can make anything heat-and-serve. But when a recipe or full meal which takes hours to prepare yet 15 minutes to eat, I get angry. Yep. Angry. For me, cooking is difficult and chances are that I really didn’t want to be responsible for your intestines or health for the next 24 hours.
If I show up to an event where the invitees are supposed to bring a dish to pass, I’m the one with a container of cookies or a bag of chips and dip -realize that I put a lot of heart and soul into that choice.
However, I am also good for cereal, fresh fruit, Yoplait Yogurt, coffee, tea and a toasted English muffin with cinnamon sugar.
For the time being, the Creative Chef is busy debating on replacing her kitchen wares.