A Harbinger Of Spring: Hello Mr. Stink Bug

AN EXEMPLARY PHOTO:

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AN ERUDITE POEM:

The itsy bitsy stink bug walked ‘cross the window sill,

down came the shade and made him take a spill.

Up came the shade and found him walking tall,

and the itsy bitsy stink bug was not fazed at all.

AN ELUCIDATORY PARAGRAPH:

We started spring cleaning over the weekend.  Or, to be more accurate, we started Spring Let’s-Get-Rid-Of-All-This-Stuff-In-The-Basement-ing over the weekend.  As we did so, a friendly, non-judgmental stink bug, who wanted nothing more than to continue to live on our window sill, regardless of the amount of junk in our basement, watched us.  And then, without any qualms whatsoever, he posed for a photo.

In Which Fuzzy The Squirrel Seems To Blame Me For The Snow

IT’S NOT LIKE I HAVE ANY control over the weather.

However, during this last cold snap I’ve gotten the distinct impression that Fuzzy the Squirrel, our resident goofball + star of many posts, has begun to blame me for the snowfall and wants me to suffer because of it.

I say this because he’s been consistently unwilling to get with the blogging program and permit me the honor of photographing him.  He knows that he is a favorite feature on The Spectacled Bean.

Idiot squirrel.

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THIS NEW BEHAVIOR IS PECULIAR BECAUSE Fuzzy is by nature a show-off who in the past has adored having his photo taken.

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SO WHEN I NOTICED HIM CLIMBING Tree #3479 to his home the other day, I hesitated about grabbing my camera.  I wondered if he’d be in the mood for a photo-op, but I decided to try, figuring that Fuzzy couldn’t hold out much longer.

He needs attention.

Thus it is with great pleasure, and the implied blessing of a narcissistic squirrel, that I give you my latest photograph of Fuzzy the Squirrel, titled: Rodent With Bad Attitude In Winter Our Dear Friend Enjoying Winter.

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Day 5 Of My Self-Imposed So-Called Hermitic Existence

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[I’m not sure, but I think that Ms. Bean has finally cracked.]

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I’ve not left the house since Monday.  What with the white death and sub-zero temps outside I’ve chosen to become a hermit.  Sort of.

  • I see + talk with my husband every morning and night, so that would be un-hermetic.  Hermits don’t chat.  
  • I have no religious principles to underpin my decision to become a hermit, so that would be un-hermetic.  Hermits aren’t motivated by extreme weather avoidance.
  • I’ve groomed myself and have worn cheerful, colorful jammie bottoms + turtlenecks + Polartec tops, so that would be un-hermetic.  Hermits don’t look cute regardless of situation.

~ • ~

[Do you suppose that Ms. Bean has become loopy and wordy because of lack of sleep?]

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I didn’t sleep well last night.  The weather forecasters predicted a low of -12ºF which we did experience.  Snuggled under the comforters I should have snoozed better, but the electricity went off in the whole subdivision.

I don’t know how long it was off, but when I awakened mid-snooze and realized that it was off, I trudged downstairs to open the cabinet doors under the kitchen sink so that the pipes wouldn’t freeze.  Then I checked the house temperature on the thermostat, which has a back-up battery.

It was 55ºF inside.

After that I went back upstairs, woke up Zen-Den to tell him the news, and tried to go back to sleep.  Sleep did not happen.  Operation Fret, however, ramped up and took over my mind.

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[Do you think that Ms. Bean, poor frozen darling, will make it through another day at home by herself?]

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I’m happy to report that the heat is on again.  I don’t know when it came back on, but it did.  We suburban hermits don’t need to know all the details about what keeps us warm.  We prefer to allow some mysteries to stay mysteries.

I’m sure that in years to come when I look back upon this week of frigid temps, boring days and heating mysteries, my mind will have turned it all into a positive memory, explained in glowing terms of self-reliance, creativity and personal growth.

Or some such nonsense.

But sitting here today, faced with another bitterly cold day of ho-hum, I’m more inclined to feel a need to whine about everything and everyone.  To discard any notions of bettering myself.  And to give in to the grumpy, enjoying it for all that it is.  *humph*

An Unsolved Mystery: What Became Of Dottie?

When the weather turns sub-zero, my thoughts turn to carbohydrates.  All kinds of carbohydrates.  Some of which are meant to be eaten with delicious stews and soups.

Carbohydrates like corn bread.

Homemade.  Using Dottie Dorsel’s Corn Meal, a regional favorite.  A product packaged in a rectangular shape made of thick paper.  Traditional.  Easy to find on the shelf.

• • •

So I went to ye olde K. Roger to a buy some of Dottie Dorsel’s Corn Meal and instead what I found was Dorsel’s Corn Meal.  Packaged in a slick corporate plastic bag with a zip top and large writing that excluded Dottie’s name.

This, I said to myself, is an outrage.

I mean, Betty is still with Crocker.  Duncan is still with Hines.  Aunt is still with Jemima.  [Okay, the last one’s not the same, but go with me here.  I’m on a rant.]

SO WHAT HAPPENED TO DOTTIE DORSEL?

The heroine of our story.

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{ Image courtesy of dannwoellertthefoodetymologist }

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Naturally I started researching this mystery because it’s fricking cold outside and I ain’t going anywhere on foot or car [if I can help it] I had the time and I was curious to see how the current owners of Dottie Dorsel’s Corn Meal would explain themselves.

I discovered that:

  • Dottie Dorsel, aka Dorathea Dorsel, was a real person from northern Kentucky whose father owned The Dorsel Milling Company in the late 1800s.
  • I learned from a recipe in a 1999 cookbook that the company was at that time called the Dottie Dorsel Company.
  • I know that today Prairie Mills owns, what it refers to as, Dorsels Brands.
  • I cannot find any corporate PR releases or newspaper articles that talk about the change in packaging– or why Dottie’s delightfully alliterative name was left off the new package.
  • I can find some recipes online [here and here] from the early 2000s that mention using Dottie Dorsel Pinhead Oat Meal (another regional favorite), but Corn Meal recipes, specifically mentioning Dottie, do not seem to exist.

• • •

Clearly, there’s a conspiracy going on here.  A cover-up.  You can’t go around messing with people’s names on food packaging, can you?  I realize that Fig Newton dropped the Fig from its name, but Fig wasn’t a real live person who I related to on so many levels.

Fig was a fruit.  Duh.

All I can guess is that Dottie must have overheard something so sinister or stumbled upon a secret so dark that there was a need to rub her out.  Which lead to some mysterious someone axing her first name from the packaging of her own regionally famous corn meal.

BUT WHY MUST IT END THIS WAY?

That’s what I can’t figure out.

[Hello FTC!  I forgot to add this disclaimer when I wrote this post, so I’ll add it now… a few weeks later.  I’d love to tell you that this company was savvy enough to respond to my concerns, but no such luck.  Meaning that there was no compensation for what I said here.]