In Which A 3:00 A.M. Conversation About An Alleged Nightmare Turns Into A Nightmare

It is 3:00 a.m. We are in bed asleep. At least one of us is…

HIM: Are you awake?

ME: {sleeping}

HIM: I think you’re awake.

ME: {ignoring him}

HIM: You were counting in your sleep.

ME: {rolling over in order to ignore him better}

HIM: Why were you counting in your sleep?

ME: Not counting, sleeping.

HIM: Ah-ha, so you are awake.

ME: {sigh}

HIM: So what were you counting? You woke me up because you were counting in your sleep. Out loud.

ME: Don’t know. Sleeping.

HIM: Ah-ha, so you admit to the fact that you were counting in your sleep.

ME: Don’t know. Maybe? Sleeping.

HIM: What were you counting in your sleep? Hmmm?

ME: SHEEP. I was counting sheep.

HIM: Really? I didn’t know people did that except in stories and commercials.

ME: Uh huh. SLEEPING.

HIM: What kind of sheep?

ME: Fluffy. White. Just basic sheep.

HIM: What were they doing? How were you counting them?

ME: THEY WERE JUMPING OVER A FENCE, OK? AND I COUNTED THEM AS THEY DID THAT. 

HIM: Well, you don’t have to yell at me. I was only concerned that you were having a nightmare.

ME: I wasn’t before, but I sure am now.  

HIM: Well, I’m going back to sleep now that I know you’re ok. Good luck with your sheep. Sorry you can’t sleep.

ME: {wide awake and fretful at 3:05 a.m.}

HIM: *snoring*

~ ~ • ~ ~

Rejoicing With A Glass Of Wine: Cheers To Tenacity & Typos

TENACITY, I GOT IT

AFTER TRYING UNSUCCESSFULLY for three weeks to get wine in our weekly grocery order for curbside pickup, we finally got some wine in the house.

How did we do this, you ask?

We joined an online wine club wherein you pick from their selection of wines and your wine is then delivered, a few weeks later, to your doorstep.  All that is required of you, beyond deciding which bottles of wine you want and having a valid credit card, is to have an adult sign for the wine when it is delivered to your doorstep at an assigned time.

I am an adult, with time on her hands, thus I was more than willing to sign for the wine.  Which I did by standing in my jammies, shamelessly, on our front stoop a week ago Thursday morning at 10:00 a.m.

And by having gray frizzy hair.

The friendly UPS man sized me up from afar as he walked across the lawn carrying the box of wine.  He didn’t bother having me physically sign for the wine, instead he scribbled something on the electronic form and went on his way.

That worked for me, buddy.  No need to be uptight about the signing part of the blessed wine delivery. 😇

Hallelujah!

FUN WITH TYPOS

LAST TUESDAY NIGHT I opened the first bottle of the wine we ordered.  We were having salmon and mashed potatoes and spinach, thus I reasoned a chilled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc would be lovely.

[Truthfully I almost always think a chilled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc would be lovely, but I digress.]

As I was sipping the first glass of wine to cross my lips in quite some time, I decided to read the back label on the bottle of wine.  I like to know what I’m supposed to be tasting according to the vineyard.  Plus I’m into marketing, so I do like well-written copy.

When I can find it.

And even when I can’t…

Below is a photograph of the back label on the bottle of wine. Can you see the typo? The numerical one that made me smile?

And with that I’ll end this post by telling you we enjoyed this bottle of wine.  Perhaps it was because of all the effort it took to get it.  Or, perhaps it was because it taught me a profound lesson: YOU CAN’T JUDGE A WINE BY ITS TYPO. 😉

Happy Weekend, everyone.

As One Does Now: In Which Ms. Bean Becomes Mildly Exasperated With Her Husband

A story gleaned from our daily life.

The scene…

Husband and Wife at home, quarantined like many other couples.

Husband, working from home with his trusty laptop computer, having commandeered the kitchen table that is in the middle of everything at the back of the house.

Wife, writing in study at front of house.

Doorbell rings.

Wife sees FedEx guy leave small box on the stoop.

Wife goes to kitchen in back of house to get her gloves so that she may pick up the box, safely.

As one does now. 

Wife tells Husband, who is sitting at the kitchen table that is smack dab in the middle of everything at the back of the house, what she is doing.

Husband who is staring at computer screen appears to understand, nodding head in an affirmative manner.

Wife collects small box from front stoop, walks to kitchen at back of house, and wipes down small box with Clorox wipe.

As one does now. 

Husband sees Wife bring box into kitchen and seems to understand that she’s applied the proper ablutions to it, leaving it in plain sight on the kitchen counter because she’ll open the box later.

Wife returns to writing project in study in front of house.

One half hour later…

Husband strides purposefully from kitchen in back of house to front door, opens it, then expresses dismay that the box delivered by FedEx is not there.

Husband is flummoxed and queries Wife as to where said box is.

Wife explains all that transpired within Husband’s purview while sitting at the kitchen table that is smack dab in the middle of every stinking thing in the back of the house.

Husband looks baffled.

Wife says didn’t you notice what I was doing, hear what I was saying. Weren’t you interested?

Husband says: “Of course I was interested, but I wasn’t watching what you were doing or listening to what you were saying at all.”

Wife *sighs* LOUDLY, *rolls her eyes* DRAMATICALLY, and returns to her writing project, refusing to respond to Husband’s absurd, somewhat disparaging, comment.

As one does now.

Adapting With A Smile: Getting The Groceries, Trying The Recipes

Welp, it has finally happened even though I said I’d never do this.

You see, we’ve started using online ordering for our groceries, then we go, together, to pick up our order outside the store.

There’s no charge for this now and it does seem like a healthier way for us to get groceries.  Plus not to put too fine of a point on it, we have the time– and allow me to clue you in, it can take time to do this.

On our last adventure our assigned pickup time was for a 5:00-6:00 p.m.  We arrived at 5:03 p.m., got in a line with about 20 cars in front of us, and left the parking lot with our groceries in the trunk of the car at 6:58 p.m.

Yes, almost 2 hours in line to get food, safely.

Ain’t life a pip? 

• • •

The knocked over sign said: PICKUP LINE STARTS HERE  We laughed at the folly of it all, having been in line for an hour before getting to this *beginning* spot. From the look of the damage to the sign someone before us may not have seen the humor in that sign at that point in line.

• • •

We did have a weirdly good time waiting in line together.  

We started watching shoppers, most of whom didn’t have masks, going in and out of the store.  We started making up back stories about them OR criticizing how they handled their groceries once they got to their vehicles.

Case in point, a woman wearing surgical gloves came out of the store pushing a cart, walked to her car, opened the trunk, put her groceries into the trunk, walked over to the trash container, removed her gloves properly.

Then USING HER UNGLOVED HANDS she opened the flap on the trash container, disposing of the gloves therein.  She walked back to her car trunk, shut the trunk, got into the car, and drove away– using her hands that had touched the trash container to do so.

ICK!

• • •

The shy sign said: PICKUP WAITING STARTS HERE We chuckled with mirth, but weren’t duped. We’d been in line for close to an hour and a half at this point. Clearly this sign saw what had happened to the previous sign and was taking precautions to stay safe.

• • •

Now that we’re dining in all the time we’ve been cooking and baking: carbohydrates are our friends.

In truth we’ve been having fun while trying new recipes and/or revisiting old ones.  In all cases we’ve adapted the recipes to work with what we have procured via said online ordering/pickup scenario discussed above.

Below is an alphabetized list of recipes we’ve made.  I’ve rated them and made a few notes about what we changed because of… oh you understand why.

Click on the title of the recipe to be taken to it online.

Alton Brown’s Shepherd’s Pie [A+] – used ground beef instead of ground lamb

Baked Cheese Grits [A] – used half & half instead of whipping cream

Bisquick Velvet Crumb Cake [B-] – added nutmeg to batter, cinnamon to topping 

Brown Rice and Corn Cakes [A] – used onion powder instead of fresh chives, white flour instead of whole wheat

Classic Peanut Butter Blossom Cookies [A+] – didn’t change a thing!

Classic Strawberry Shortcakes [A] – added 1 tsp vanilla extract, a pinch of nutmeg

Easy Bisquick Chicken Pot Pie [C-] – made as is, not bad but old-fashioned and blah

Grandma’s Anything Goes Strata [B] – used all milk [no half & half], used cooked bulk breakfast sausage instead of deli meat, added 1/4 tsp brown mustard

Lemon Curd [A+] – no changes to ingredients, cooked using double boiler instead of directly on heat 

Martha Stewart Spiced Walnuts [B+] – used 1 tsp chili powder for 1/2 tsp coriander

~ The End ~

Like An Owl On The Shelf, I’m Looking At You My Fellow Bloggers

I happened to see the sun shining on this owl pitcher sitting on the hutch shelf and snapped a photo of her for the heck of it.

Never have I been happier to report that nothing interesting is going on around here.

I haven’t been anywhere in a week.  Well, I’ve gone outside for walks in the neighborhood, but I haven’t been in a store or restaurant or medical office.

No haircut. No trip to the mall. No foray to the party store next state over. No shopping at the garden nursery.

Pretty much, NO to all the activities I’d planned for the end of March.

My calendar is empty.

Instead of fretting about the nothingness of now I’ve decided to focus on blogging.

To wit, I’ll be writing here in my usual way, trying to keep my posts short, snappy, sassy, stylish, smart.  And any other positive ‘S’ word you can think of.

But writing and maintaining your own personal blog is only 60% of blogging. The other 40% is reading other people’s blog posts and commenting on them. Therein is the secret of blogging, truth be known.

And with that little bit of wisdom gleaned after messing around in the blogosphere for 16 years [anniversary this week in fact], I’ll hit publish on this post.  No need to dither here when I’ve all of you to read and comment upon.  Must share the comment love.

Yep, I’m looking at you, my fellow bloggers. Ain’t you glad?