Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #22

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, disasters, faith, humour, music, singing, worship

Dear Diary – My weekly Michael’s flyer arrived in my inbox today. It said “Summer is here!”. Meanwhile, it’s the end of May and I’m watching it snow outside! I took a video clip of the lilacs dancing in the breeze, as large snow globs fell from the sky, but I can’t seem to post it here. I took still photos as well, but they don’t begin to capture the horror! By the time it was thick enough for a good photo, I was too depressed. How did it go from deep summer temperatures to this?!? Good thing the cars’ snow tires are still on?

Dear Diary – On Saturday I attended a Worship Conference. I bounced out of bed early, showered, and put on a fresh pair of pjs. I threw my hair in a top-knot, applied some make-up and filled the kettle all the way to the top! From 9 to 5, I sat and swilled with other musicians, pastors and technical peeps worshipping and growing together.

This last year, it seems, has been a year of feast or famine, an extreme spectrum for us all. While some have grown weary from high expectations and great challenges to connect online with their congregations & beyond, others have grown weary from inactivity, loneliness and soul-searching. Both extremes are God’s way of challenging hearts, both in terms of who He is and who we are in Him.

I know that I have wrestled with self-doubt, especially in terms of my place and purpose in my own church home, and in the greater Church. I had left my job in October of 2019 and faced 2020 as a year of personal growth. I adopted the song, “Finish Line” to inspire me to run well. I would dig deeper in the Word. I would take steps to become healthier physically. I would write. And I would see where God was leading next. None of us had any idea that “next” would become an intense time of isolation, separation and mourning. I have dug deeper in Word and that has been my source of strength and joy. I know God is moving. Even in my life, as I continue to wait to see what’s “next”.

The second speaker, Christy Nockels, singer/songwriter, talked about life on the road. She was living “the dream” but also reaching a point of complete exhaustion. She just wanted to go “home”. It was during a time of rest that she realized that her fatigue was God’s way of rescuing her. She had everything she thought she wanted, but not what she needed most: Him. She talked about how a ready heart can look like an exhausted heart, because you have come to a place where you are ready to lay it all down and rest in Him. When we live from God, instead of for God, and when we learn to love and been seen by Him, we come home. The enemy keeps us busy so we are ineffective; God offers us rest so that He can propel us forward.

She also said “God unfolds dreams bigger than our own”. That just blows my mind, and it makes my heart ache. I don’t know what my dreams are…except to say they are to follow His dreams. And perhaps that is enough.

I also joined a break-out session for women in ministry called Boldness, with Leah Andrade. What a phenomenal woman! She said this: “You are chosen by God, divinely woven together to bring change to the world with your unmatchable story” and “your fabric is woven with God’s purpose”. O Diary…my story is pretty unremarkable, but it’s exciting to know that there is so much more going on that just what I see on the surface. To be reminded that I was chosen feels like a hug around all those places inside that hurt. I can feel the rejection and the longing to be loved melting away and being replaced by a sense of belonging. I feel hope and joy, and yes, peace. Even peace to wait. Something is coming and I want to be ready to run…

And me? I’m a mess. I’m nothing and have nothing: make something of me. You can do it; you’ve got what it takes – but God, don’t put it off.

Psalm 40:17

Dear Diary – I’m not gonna’ lie. Slipping from the softness of my bed at 6:30 Sunday morning was hard! It hurt! I wondered if it was worth it.

I had showered and laid out my clothes the night before. All I had to do was get dressed, fix my hair, apply make-up and make a large tea before heading out the door at 7:30 so I’d arrive for set-up on time. I had been asked to play with a worship team at another church. Services are still limited to 10 people so I felt comfortable in that environment. We were spread out and only 2 of us would be unmasked, and only while we were singing. I was going to get to sing and play, and not irritate anyone while doing it.

Set-up/rehearsal ran late and with 3 minutes until the start of the live service, I had to race to the restroom. I should have waited and slipped out during the sermon (sorry Pastor)! I had 20 seconds to get my in-ear monitors in. They had to be in place because, unlike the worship teams at my home church, this team played with tracks. That meant you can’t go off course or juggle your timing. You have to be precise. In addition, the only sound in the room came through the-in ear monitor…the vocals, drum, guitar and piano, which I was playing. And I was the first instrument to start with the song.

I felt like I was in a Mr. Bean skit. As the technician counted down from the back, I was scrambling to plug in my “ears”. I might have made it…had I remembered to take my face mask off first. The same thing happened at my home church 2 weeks before, as I wrestled with a face mask, 2 in-ear pieces, and a mic that clipped over one ear. I didn’t make it for the closing song, but I could hear the other musicians so I could manage. But with the only sound coming from in the in-ear, I was doomed!

I ripped the mask from my face and holding the plug by one ear, I counted. When it was time to start playing, I dropped the plug and played the first 4 bars. I could only hope that I played the correct ones! I spent the remainder of the first verse wrestling to get these things in, and praying it wasn’t all being caught on camera. I was horribly embarrassed; I’d never be able to face these people at the end of the service.

That’s when the hotflash started. It began with prickling around the back of my neck and spread into my armpits and up my face. Instead of looking like a pasty-white zombie, I was going to resemble a tomato! My hands started to shake as the back of my knees grew damp. And I wondered, what else can go wrong?

By the time we started the third song, the flush had died down. I was thankful we wouldn’t be sitting together because I was certain I no longer smelled like a rose. I allowed myself to set aside all the distractions and just worship.

As we moved into the interlude where would build toward the bridge by adding layers of complexity, our in-ear monitors went dead. I saw the lead singer stiffen and heat rising up the back of her neck. The guitarist stopped strumming. We knew the track was still playing live, and every note I was playing, but we had NOTHING! In 7 bars, the bridge would start. Would the lead singer keep going, hoping that our timing wasn’t off? Would she apologize and cite technical difficulties? Would it magically fix itself in time?

7 bars passed and I kept playing open chords. By now, the guitarist had indiscreetly turned to look at the drummer. The lead singer was madly communicating with the drummer with her eyeballs. So I glanced over too. By now, it was already past awkward. It had to be obvious to those watching that something was wrong!

But the lead singer was able to reset the track to the bridge and we had sound again. We continued on… we finished the song. The pastor prayed and introduced a short missions video. As soon as the video began, the drummer shouted “I’m so sorry”. One drumstick had gone flying (we watched it later on the video and it was hilarious) and he was preoccupied with how to discreetly pick it up. He knew he had lost the track but it wasn’t until the lead singer glanced over with fear in her eyes, that he realized he had hit the main power switch!

Needless to say, technology is great…when it works.

I picked up Tim Horton’s on the way home. I figure I deserved it after my early morning. And unlike 2 weeks ago when I treated myself to Tim’s, I got it home in one piece without spilling it and ruining my sweater! Too bad they gave me black coffee instead of black steeped tea!

I won’t be impressed with technology until it can download food.

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #17

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, disappointment, disasters, food, groceries, humour

Dear Diary – Stop the world – I want to get off!

This week read like bad sitcom script…or just a never-ending Monday!

I hate Mondays!

Garfield

Last Thursday was a day of disappointment. The grocery store didn’t sell purple food colouring for next week’s birthday cake, and we discovered the restaurant I chose for my birthday dinner…is permanently closed. Despite being lactose intolerant, I’ve had my mouth fixed for 9 cheese ravioli (because anything less than 9 is just foolishness) for 2 years! I’m aware of the consequences of dairy, and I was prepared to deal with them, even if my family was not! Neither disappointment should be reason to mope, but with the long absences from family and with what should be a special occasion looming, it hit like a ton of bricks.

Friday began as a day of hope. My friend made some phonecalls and found purple food colouring at the Bulk Barn. I called them right away. Not only did I get my colour, I also replaced my star icing tip and restocked my spice cupboard. It’s the little things! When I went to pay in person, their debit machine was attached to a hockey stick. What a Canadian thing to do!

Friday evening, Hubby had his astrozenica vaccination. He felt lousy for the weekend and had a migraine Sunday night. Otherwise, he seemed fine.

Monday began with a jolt! Hubby woke me early with a very suspicious mark on his arm. I made him coffee, gave him my cell phone, because his was, of course, completely dead, and dropped him at the E.R. at 8.

Traffic was deliciously light. I made tea and a couple phone calls when I got home. I didn’t want my friend texting Hubby and getting mad at me because I wasn’t replying. I was supposed to pick up groceries for her and for my family at 10. Hubby was in and out quickly, and he’s ok! But when he called me to pick him up, our phone was busy (sorry), and his phone, we later discovered, turns off when it charges. By the time we connected, he was almost home. It was a long, cold walk…

While he was walking, he missed a text from Big Guy telling us he was not having a good day. His transmission blew up and he only made it halfway home from work. He was stuck on the side of the road, waiting for a tow truck!

I never did get my groceries. My grocery reservation magically “disappeared” and all the other time slots were full. I reserved for Tuesday. Turkey leftovers!

2021 got a lot crappier Monday night. I was supposed to shower Monday morning, but I’d had an early, uncaffeinated morning hospital trip…so I decided to stink all day and treat myself to a long, hot shower Monday night. Instead, I discovered that every time we flushed, did laundry or washed dishes, sewage was backing up in the laundry room. I called the town at 8 and after investigating, they connected me to a plumber. Even though we’d like to return the favour and make noise to irritate wake our neighbours, we arranged for them to come Tuesday morning. We could stink for the night and cross our legs for the next 12 hours. There’s always the tree out back! It’s just like camping, but without the lake.

Typical teen was “annoyed” Tuesday morning because he had to attend virtual school upstairs instead of his batcave. He immediately blocked out all the daylight. I wonder if coffee would’ve helped. He thought a “little water” was no reason to change routines. I had to point out it was “poo water”.

We managed to get through our morning ablutions before the plumbers arrived. I tossed our bowl of “washing water” out the back door like a true hick. But I don’t want to talk about the bucket.

The universe continued to conspire against me. First, my grocery reservation was lost, again. Second, the bank cancelled my credit card, for fraudulent activity in the amount of $4.16. The IT guy at Loblaws assured me my reservation for Wednesday was solid. I could pick food up after my physio torture therapy appointment. Maybe the third time is the charm?

I had stale mini marshmallows and toast for lunch.

Someone offered to uber me alcohol! It was very tempting!

Tonight is my second humour class. Our homework was to make note of humorous anecdotes in our week.

My whole life is anecdotal!

Good-bye “Monday”!

Monday is like a math problem. Add the irritation, subtract the sleep, multiply the problems, divide the happiness.

Unknown

Dear Diary – I woke up this morning optimistic that today I would feed my family. My grocery pick-up would go off without a hitch. I would bake my birthday cake without the usual disaster. And I would enjoy “Halo night” with Big Guy.

I drove to the grocery store in a blinding thunderstorm right after my physio torture therapy appointment, and parked in Space #5. I called to let them know I had arrived and settled in to play my Word game on my phone. I immediately got stuck.

While rain had cleared when I notified them of my arrival, it was a torrential downpour when the rather sodden clerk arrived with my baskets. Small talk was impossible over the white noise of nature. With the ineffectual wipers on full, I merrily headed home.

The rain slowed to a steady dribble as I began unpacking the jumble of wet plastic bags in the trunk. But under the jumble, was a haphazard layer of unbagged items. Someone had carefully tied my bags of milk in bags and knotted the handles, but didn’t bag 1 can of pasta sauce, 1 carton of apple sauce, 2 blocks of cheese, 2 blocks of butter, 2 cartons of eggs, 2 bags of hamburger buns, 4 loaves of bread, and 2 chocolate bars. The receipt was a soggy wad of paper. All the bags I had transported thus far had been full so those items had not slipped out on the slow trip home. There were simply no bags.

By this time, I had taken most of the bags inside so I had carry the odds and ends in my arms. I nearly dropped the eggs…twice. My bread was squished. My cheese was dented. I have no idea how the eggs survived.

Worse, I was missing 2 chocolate bars. I had ordered 4. One for the 3 of us (and one for my emergency stash)! After all this trouble, most normal people would cut their losses, but…chocolate!

With my vision darkening around the edges, I abandoned the bags at the door and called the head office number. The estimated weight time was 30 minutes. I wasn’t willing to listen to 30 minutes of covid announcements, so I called the store. Something in my voice made them send me straight to the manager. I kept my tale light-hearted, with a barely distinguishable quiver in my voice. I could feel myself finally slipping over the edge.

A shaft of light broke through the clouds, angels began to sing, and this lovely growly-voiced man refunded half of my grocery bill.

I’m still short 2 chocolate bars.

Dear Diary – It’s my birthday!

The purple cake is baked. I had a great evening playing Overwatch online with Big Guy and his friend.

My parent’s gift is waiting for me at a store nearby.

And Big Guy just texted that he ordered me breakfast. It’s arriving in 10 minutes.

I’d better get dressed…

Oh, yes I can make it now the pain is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is that rainbow I’ve been praying for

It’s gonna be a bright, bright sunshiny day!

Jonny Nash, I Can See Clearly Now

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #9

Tags

cooking, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, disasters, humour

Dear Diary – It’s been the kind of week where I start the day fresh and full of plans, including taking some time to be creative. By the end of the day, I’m wondering “what happened”? It’s not like I’m lying around in my pjs watching my “stories” and eating bon-bons. Although, that does sound nice!

I suppose I did go a little wild this week! It’s all a blur. I went to the drug store for some extra groceries, and Fabricland for a new sewing maching needle, since I shattered my last one. (I got some fabric too…shh…). I put gas in the car for the first time this year. I think the last time was in September. I picked up my tax receipt at the church and saw my chiropractor. I taxied my friend and waited in the parking lot.

And then I really threw caution to the wind and went through the Tim Horton’s drive-thru. O sweet elixir for the caffeine addict, enticing nectar from the camellia sinensis plant! How I have missed thee!

Dear Diary – Do rice krispy squares count as baking? If so, I baked this week. Last week, I baked blueberry scones. I hid 2 in the freezer. Shh…don’t tell!

Dear Diary – I’m wondering if quarantine has made us all retreat into our own little worlds more than we realize. Initially, we were so starved for human contact that we would post anything that made us smile. There was a phase where emotions ran high and tempers flared, so everyone took a step back or joined different “camps”. Gradually, posts began again but more selective. I’ve noticed fewer interactions on multiple social media outlets. I could count the number of condolences on the loss of a dear friend on one hand. There were people I expected to at least acknowledge this loss, and when they didn’t, I was disappointed and felt lonely. I’m not laying guilt trips on anyone; we’re all keeping busy. I’m just reminding myself that people are important, and unless I stay in touch, I won’t know what they’re wrestling with, and consequently, I won’t be there for them when they need me most. The world around us will always be changing but our need for each other won’t. Call, text or message someone today!

Dear Diary – Cheese does not cover all evils. Sure, it was lovely and gooey in the butternut squash lasagna I made from scratch, but it couldn’t quite cover the flavour of burnt!

With online grocery shopping for two weeks at a time consumming hours to plan and buy, and with the insane price of food these days, I’ve been exploring vegetarian options. I try to prepare one vegetarian meal per week, which is a challenge in a household of male carnivores.

First, I forgot to order lasagna noodles, so I had to make my own. While they were slightly ovoid in shape, they were silky and smooth. The difficulty, this time, was the sauce!

I have made bechamel sauce many times before, including in the pastitio I made for Valentine’s Day. I followed the recipe exactly and it should have thickened in 5 minutes. After 10 minutes of constant stirring, my arms were ready to fall off. By 20 minutes, I was pretty sure I’d burned off all the skin on my forearms. Little Guy took over so I could roll the pasta, but he couldn’t take the heat.

We gave up. Unlike my waistline, it wasn’t getting any thicker, and it was smelling scorched. Unfortunately, the squash was juicy too, so we ended up with a very wet, slightly scorched lasagna. The pasta was good. The cheese was awesome. So I’m thinking, next time…I’m making mac ‘n cheese, with a side of steak!

According to this box of mac ‘n cheese, I’m a family of 4!

Dear Diary – A few people have been posting pics on FB, following my dear friend’s passing. I have to say, we all still look pretty good! I was actually surprised at how little I’ve changed. I mean, I’m still growing….just rounder. My hair is blue, but it’s a creative choice not yet necessary to cover gray hair. It’s coming, as is a double chin and false teeth.

Speaking of teeth, I have to go to the dentist tonight and I’m terrified. I know there’s an issue that needs to be addressed. I don’t know why I’m so afraid of the dentist. Maybe it’s the fact that I had sooo many teeth pulled when I was a kid because my mouth was too small (no comments from the peanut gallery to the contrary) or a bad experience with a root canal. I fell off my bike as a kid and my face broke my fall. I could only eat yogurt for weeks. I hate yogurt.

I hate dentists more.

Some tortures are physical And some are mental, But the one that is both is dental.

Ogden Nash

Sweetness & Light

Tags

baking, disasters, faith, food, food photography, macro photography, musings, tea, tea cups

I was just reflecting this morning, how our attitudes and circumstances, when reframed and brought out into the light, can actually become something beautiful. Take my disastrous macarons, for example. While they are cracked and dry, and lack colour, a little raspberry buttercream softens the appearance, and makes them a sweet treat. I survived the experience, and I now have an opportunity to learn from my mistakes. And an opportunity to try again.

Maybe even to do better.

All of the experiences in my life have done the same. Sure, my heart bears many scars. Some of my own making. But reframed in the light of God’s love and care, there is beauty too. God softens and moulds the rough places. He adds sweetness. He has helped me survive, and learn, and grow. He has forgiven me, so I can try again.

Maybe even do better.

So I’m wishing you a week filled with sweetness and light…and plenty of tea!

You may think your light is small, but it can make a huge difference in other people’s lives

– Anonymous

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 1

Tags

baking, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, disasters, humour, photography

Dear Diary – Monday arrived despite our attempts to ignore it. Hubby resumed work in the dining room (it’s such a long, difficult commute), and Little Guy resumed school in his batcave. They were So thrilled to be back! Ha!

And me…I felt a little lost! I filled my last facemask order just before Christmas. My “sanctuary” is mostly sorted. And the house is still relatively clean. If I aim for perfection I’ll just end up raising the bar, and why would I want to do that?

After my quiet time, I checked my instagram page. To my delight, I had tagged in a post. Prizmcare (partnered with Henry’s) had featured me as part of “Canada’s creative community”. They shared 5 pics from my unsplash submissions. I’m so humbled and so excited!

• 

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• 

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Big Guy is now a national model!

Dear Diary –  I did a crockpot chicken recipe which took almost 45 minutes to put together. I fail to see how that saved me time. It just meant I was busy earlier in the day, with twice as many dishes to wash up! 😉

Dear Diary – Tuesday was by far the most exciting day this week. I even dressed up. I figured, since I was leaving the house for the first in 2 weeks, and wouldn’t be leaving again for 2 weeks, I ought to take my new red plaid dress for a spin!

First I went to the bank. Actually, first I tried to get into the Bell store two doors down from the bank, but it was closed. I was so busy wrestling with keys, my purse, mittens, gloves, facemask and bank card, I didn’t quite look where I was going. Both storefronts are grey and blue, with barred gates just inside the door. Can you blame me?

Then I went to the drug store for nose spray. Next, my darling chiropractor, who was working in a different room because her torture adjustment bench was being reupholstered. And finally, I swung by my friend’s apartment to trade baked goodies!

I couldn’t stay for tea because I had a delivery coming. This week I took the plunge into online grocery shopping! With the terrifying number of Covid cases in our area, we decided better to try it while we are still thinking clearly. Or at least thinking somewhat.

In addition to the nagging concern that I forgot something on my list, throughout this whole scenario, I always have this nagging fear that we’re going to run out of food, (or money in the bank since the price of food has skyrocketed). It’s not like I can just pop in to pick up milk while I’m out painting the town like before Covid! I also dislike the idea of someone else squeezing my melons!

It felt a little like Christmas morning. First, a pleasant young man called to say he would arrive in 10 minutes. I sat on the couch nervously sipping tea, watching for “Santa’s sleigh” to arrive with my “gifts”. He carried two crates to my door and piled the plastic pouches on the doorstep. And with a nod of his and a wink of the eye, he waved at me in the window and drove away.

I unwrapped each precious parcel with care. Soup cans, cereal, cheese and sausages. Milk and cookies, and a box of chocolates. When everything was neatly tucked away and the plastic bags packed, I sunk into the couch (with another cup of caffeine) with a contented sigh. We should be set for another two weeks!

Dear Diary – I made portuguese egg custard tarts on the weekend. Unfortunately the recipe didn’t differentiate between celsius and farenheit, so I baked it too low. I cranked the oven when Hubby realized the error, and while they’re ok, they could have been great. Maybe…

Warning: Images may be yummier than they appear

Now I have 7 egg whites and half a package of phyllo pastry to make…. well…something….

Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all.

Harriet Van Horne

Dear Quarantine Diary #37

Tags

baking, Christmas, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, disasters, family, humiliation, humour

Dear Diary – Last week, I arranged to go into the church office to finish printing the new church directory. I arrived in the early afternoon. Only the caretaker was there but no worries, I have still have a key. As a worship leader, I sometimes have to open the church to set up or rehearse.

When I arrived, the front door was unlatched, so I went in and dropped off my purse and box of materials. I went back for my mugs of tea, and the door latched behind me. But even though my key would go in the lock, it would not turn. It used to stick in the cold, so I threw up my hood and hoofed it around the building to the back door.

It was cold. The back of the church is surrounded by open fields and the wind can feel like a gale wind even on a relatively calm day. Again, my key went in the lock, but it refused to turn. And the latch looked pretty shiny….

I returned to the front door and rang the door bell. I rattled the latch. I pounded on the glass. I called for the caretaker. For half an hour.

I couldn’t drive home because my license was in my purse…safely tucked away in the warm church office. I couldn’t call anyone…because my cell phone was in my purse, which was tucked away in the warm church office.

By the time the very wary, and slightly surprised custodian appeared, I was ready to drop to my knees in surrender, my energy exhausted.

The locks had been changed weeks before. Both pastors knew I was coming in. No one told me. Missing my old job just a little less….

Dear Diary – We are officially in Lockdown, or “The Grey Zone”. I think “The Black Zone” would be a great name for comic strip like “The Far Side” or a sci-fi series reminiscent of “the Twilight Zone”. If only I could draw….I’m wondering if I should rename my Quarantine Diary, the “Quarantine Chronicles”?

It means more restrictions: dining and non-essential retailers are curbside only, churches are closed, fitness/ recreational/entertainment facilities are closed, indoor gatherings are suspended, outdoor gatherings are limited to 10. With Big Guy in one city, and my folks in another town, “Christmas” may be postponed this year.

I’m not happy.

I’ve been a “good girl” and followed every government request. I have even extended grocery shopping to every 10 days. Which is a lot of bags for this little frame. I’ve pouted over others’ posts of family photos, walks on the beach, sunsets at the cottage. I just want to open gifts by the tree, play games, and eat too much with my family, like we do every year. I don’t need to shop or party, or leave the house. I just want to be with the people who mean the world to me. I know it’s just one day! I know I was blessed to spend weeks with them in the Spring, when lockdown seemed like an amusing interruption to routine. I know there are plenty of others who feel the same way as I do. The heart wants what the heart wants. 🙂

The rain falls upon the just. And also on the unjust fellas. But mostly it falls upon the just cause the unjust have the just’s umbrella. Cormac McCarthy

It hasn’t helped that I had an unfortunate surprise this weekend. My Mom posted on Facebook that my Dad was in the hospital, a message she never intended for me to see. I saw! I called! All is right with the world! 🙂

He’s going to be okay and will probably hate that I posted this. Mom will hate that I posted this too. IF ever again, they’ll call! My home is like a squirrel’s nest – full of nuts! And my “nuts” are pretty precious!

It never hurts your eyesight to look at the bright side of things. Barbara Johnson

As for me and my household, no matter where we’ll be, we’ll worship the Lord.

Preparations for Christmas are moving forward. Most of the gifts have arrived. The tree is up. I’m slowly baking my way through my checklist.

My unconventional ugly tree – how many video games and movies can you identify?

Every year I admire the array of magazine covers with pretty cookies. Every year I try to duplicate them. Every year, my cookies taste great but look “meh”.

Saturday afternoon I made icing. It tasted weird. I divided it and added flavours – lemon, lime and almond. It tasted like lemon or lime or almond…plus weird. I investigated; it was the icing sugar. Maybe it absorbed something funky from the plastic container? But icing+cookie was ok, and I hate to throw anything out. I iced my cookies and resolved to make another batch in the morning.

The new batch with fresh icing sugar was yummy, but the viscose textur meant the longer it sat in the piping bag, the more solid it became. Soon two hands were not enough and the bag threatened to split. I scooped and thinned it, but now it dribbled slowly from the bag. They’re “meh” again this year, but taste good with tea!

Dear Diary – I aired out my winter sheets and pjs on the clothesline yesterday. How did women wash and hang out wet clothes in winter? My fingers were pretty cold by the time I was done. Hubby scoffed, “it’s only -10…with wind chill, that makes it feel like -18C”. That would explain it! My things weren’t out long. The pillow cases were wind socks and I didn’t want to hunt down my nighties in my neighbours’ yards.

Dear Diary – I asked! I asked my friend, “do I need evaporated milk or condensed milk for fudge”? I should have followed my instinct because I bought the wrong one. It took forever to find a recipe that would use the wrong one. I followed it exactly and I made inedible chocolate fudge. It’s a horrible, grainy, pudding-like brown blob of poo! Any takers?

Hello Darkness, my old friend. Simon & Garfunkel

Dear Quarantine Diary #30

Tags

baking, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, disasters, humour

Dear diary – This past weekend, the sun wasn’t shining on the glorious leaves, and the nip in air was just plain nippy! The perfect season for Holly Homemaker to fill my head with visions of yummy, hearty home cooking. And I fell for it…again!

I made ginger carrot butternut squash soup for lunch on Sunday. And to appease my growing men (the direction they’re growing depends on the age), I cheated and made bisquick biscuits. Normally I make them from scratch…and I should have! The biscuits were raw, deformed, pasty rocks even after double the time they were supposed to cook. Microwaving them didn’t help! They tasted awful! Was it my oven temperature? Had the milk spoiled? Nope! Hubby solved the mystery … the bisquick mix had expired in 2011!

I also made homemade lasagna filled with hearty vegetables, ground beef and lots of cheese. Except I didn’t quite have enough noodles left in the box. (Yes, I checked the expiry date)! So I decided to be creative. The bottom layer was lasagna and the second layer was macaroni.

– Photo courtesy of Pinterest

Finally,  I wanted to use the pastry shell I baked a few days before, so I made a lemon meringue pie, from scratch. It turned out beautifully before. I even squeezed my own lemons! What I ended up with was a tart, lemony soup with a perfect meringue crust. I didn’t have quite enough cornstarch…

If Holly Homemaker is smart, she’ll run for her life!

Dear diary – On Saturday, I tackled the piddly job of edging along the ceiling in my spare room/craft room/sanctuary. Not only do I have to hold my breath and concentrate so I don’t splooch paint on the ceiling, I have to climb up and down to inch the ladder around the room. I had one foot to go when I ran into a second obstacle (the first being the paint can lid!). The bed! Fortunately I had a big strong “man child” to roll his eyes at me and shove it out of the way, with one foot.

On Tuesday, my friend came over to roll in the room while I was in my Zoom Bible study meeting. As it turns out, she is not only a “live large” kinda gal, but a forceful painter. She slopped away with the force of a hurricane. After carefully, tediously edgining the room and around the doors and windows, watching my friend made me cringe. There was paint dripping down the walls, smudges on the floor, and brush boops on the ceiling. Why can’t I look a gift horse in the mouth, and what does that mean?!?!?

In the end, it looks great (except for the ceiling boops). She slathered the paint on so thick, it only needed one coat. Which is good, because the paint can is nearly empty and I fear I may never get it open again! Aunt M’s trick with rubbing alcohol worked like a charm and the floor smudges are history. I’m almost feeling hopeful that I’ll be moved in before Christmas!

Dear diary – The website, unsplash.com, is hosting it’s annual photo contest. It’s a website for photographers to share, for free, their exquisite photos. I might use the term loosely though since they let me create an account and add photos too.

I perused this years categories. Architecture, film, and fashion aren’t really my strong suits. Interiors are a bad idea. Since there’s no risk of someone stopping in for tea, I confess I have let some of the housekeeping duties slide.

My house isn’t dirty – it’s lived in!

There’s also street photography, people and health & wellness. All require leaving the house. Next!

Current events? Who wants to look at Covid-related photos? As for other world news, it requires leaving the house…I’m not sure my cooking and baking sessions would count as Experimental! So I submitted some photos for Nature. There are over 4.8K entries. Wish me luck!

There are no bad pictures; that’s just how your face looks sometimes.

– Abraham Lincoln

Dear diary – Today I got to be a working girl. Not that kind of working girl! I got a call from my former boss asking if I would be willing to help with a small project. I am!

Today I fixed my hair and put on make-up. I left the house in “dressy” clothes as opposed to jeans, leggings and flannel shirts. I took a travel mug with tea for travel farther than the grocery store. Sitting behind my desk felt like coming “home”. I have mourned leaving this job terribly, and even though this project will only take a few hours, some of which can be done in my living, it felt good to contribute again. I mean, in a way apart from beautifying the world with my fabulous face masks! 🙂

Dear diary – Last night, minutes after putting the clothes in the dryer to fluff them (I hung them out to dry), we heard a horrendous crash downstairs. Little Guy was in the bathroom upstairs so I couldn’t blame him.

Half an hour later, when I went to get the clothes, I discovered shattered glass in front of the dryer and scattered across the floor in the clothes waiting to be washed. In fact, whatever had broken had flown across the whole room! Thankfully I noticed before I ventured too far in my bare feet.

Several hours after I cleaned it all up, scratching my head as to what had broken, it dawned on me. I had carried the freshly washed glass pie plate down in the laundry basket and I must have set it on the dryer. The dryer shook it off…and the boys won’t be eating lemon meringue soup any time soon. I wonder if they’re disappointed?

Hubby asserts that it’s called a pie dish because plate comes from a French word that means flat, and it has sides on it, so it can’t be a plate. What do you call the container in which you bake a pie – plate or dish? Curious minds want to know!

Nuts to You!

Tags

baking, disasters, humour

Nuts! There weren’t even any in my chocolate fudge cupcakes, but that didn’t stop someone from sampling them. I suspect this guy in particular:

Don’t let his “cuteness” distract you. He is a brilliant and conniving international super-villain in the underbelly of the sciurine world…

Photo courtesy of http://statici.behindthevoiceactors.com

…and apparently, a lover of chocolate fudge cupcakes!

As noted earlier this week, I am in the process of baking my brains out (or what’s left) for our church community yard sale on Saturday. We are raising money to help the homeless in the city, and I am in charge of a bake table. It would have been a great idea if…

• I wasn’t “baking-challenged”;
• My kitchen counter workspace was bigger than a sheet of paper; and
• We weren’t experiencing a heat wave.

Temperatures were in the 30s (Celsius) yesterday. On the way home from work, I passed a snow plough truck. Only in Canada…but I digress.

I received some distressing news yesterday and started a migraine, so I left work a few minutes early to clear my head…by grocery shopping. Then I went to the chiropractor, the bank, the post office, and home to bake a dozen strawberry cupcakes, 2 dozen chocolate fudge cupcakes, a dozen tea biscuits, and 2 dozen “fiddle diddle” cookies, plus supper. I had to wash bowls and beaters in-between projects.

Needless to say, I was a hot, sweaty mess when Hubby got home (not a sexy kind of hot & sweaty)! But I completed all the cooking and baking in 2 hours, an incredible feat unto itself, and even more incredibly, with NO TEARS! I had worked like a well-oiled machine in my tiny, ugly vintage kitchen, balancing my recipe book on the kitchen sink ledge, stacking plastic containers of cooling cupcakes on the microwave, and laying out ingredients on the cluttered dining table (right over the Game of Life). I even used the back porch to cool chocolate fudge cupcakes while I tossed in home-made biscuits, sautéed vegetables, boiled pasta and stirred cookie dough.

I left the cupcakes outside for less than 10 minutes.

***

I never saw the actual culprit, but his razor-sharp claws and fangs made fast work of those cupcakes – at least 3…in each tray. A little path of crumbs petering out down the steps. I shouted “oh balls”, expecting Hubby to say something pithy like “not balls…cupcakes”.  I think he noted my sagging shoulders and clenched fists, and decided to bite his tongue and retreat from the kitchen, no sudden movements.

I scanned the horizon looking for the perpetrator, feeling his beady little black eyes scan me with a twitch of his whiskers.

***

The rich, moist, dark chocolate fudge cupcakes were binned, along with my motivation and sense of purpose.  I ate my dinner and crawled into bed in the fetal position for a few hours, to console my wounded pride.

***

Tonight, I have to melt chocolate and decorate 48 cake pops (I forgot some in my parents’ freezer – 3 hours away). I still have a migraine, I can’t guarantee there won’t be tears…but I can guarantee this:

Nuts to you, Red Squirrel! I’ve got my eye on you.

You will rue the day you ate my chocolate fudge cupcakes!

Photo courtesy of http://madagascar.wikia.com/

“What’s for Dinner?”

Tags

cooking, disasters, food, humour

It seems many of my  “cooking projects” end up just like my home reno projects – they end up creating more work and by the time it’s over, I’m too tired to enjoy the final product.

This weekend, Hubby fixed the clogged bathroom sink, but he also discovered a disintegrating pipe and a cracked sink, which has been leaking underneath. Small project just grew…

Today I bought groceries to make lasagna sauce from scratch to make a meal for a friend and her family. I also bought the ingredients to try a new chicken recipe. Do you smell disaster?

1. I searched the store for a can of cannellini beans. I don’t know what they are, and after scanning the aisles and identifying over 2 dozen different types of beans, I never found cannellini beans. So I bought a can of white kidney beans. It wasn’t until I got home and read the recipe again that I realized the beans were to be added to the side salad, so eaten raw. I don’t think cold, raw kidney beans taste very good, so now I have beans to make chili (new project #1).

2. I had thawed chicken breasts, not cutlets. The breasts were skinless but bone in, but I thought I could cut the meat off the bones to make my own cutlets. The knife was not the sharpest in the drawer – and I’m talking about me! This old bird had a hard time separating the flesh from the bone of the old birds! There was plenty of meat still on the bones, so I decided to boil them and use the broth to make soup (new project #2).

3. The panko crust didn’t want to stick to the chicken, which was cut too thick. I cut the second batch thinner, then covered them and used the can of kidney beans to pound them too (hey – a new use for project #1?)

I was so focused on the chicken though, that my pot of bones boiled dry, setting off the smoke detector. I opened the doors and dragged a chair to deactivate the smoke detector. Just as I was climbing down from the chair, I heard a voice asking, “What’s for dinner?” My neighbour was out front raking leaves in the dark. I replied, “Burnt offerings”.

By the time,  the cutlets were black rather than golden brown (3), the broth could not be salvaged (2), and I was ready to throw the beans (1).

And I still have to make the lasagna sauce…

Happy Monday (or what is left of it)!

Happy Endings

Tags

disasters, driving, family, humour, parenting

Yesterday I did what Moms are born to do when their offspring call…

After I hung up the phone early yesterday morning, I told Hubby “I just want to get in the car and go!”

Hubby: “So…go!”

Me: “But I’ve never driven there [to Big Guy’s place] on my own.”

Hubby: “Then it’s time to put on your ‘big girl panties’ and go!”

So I did. I went. I got verbal instructions from Big Guy, while Hubby programmed the GPS (I don’t like it but I could use all the help I could get). I grabbed a shower, my flat iron and a 4-pack of KD, and with Little Guy in tow (he wasn’t missing an impromptu visit to his big brother’s), we hit the highway!

Someone had smashed Big Guy’s passenger car window in the night and stole his wallet and some spare change. His wallet contained all his I.D. – driver’s license, credit card, bank card, health card, company insurance card, an a small assortment of (mostly empty) restaurant gift cards. No cash, unless you count Canadian Tire money!

No money meant no money to replace cards. No money to ride a bus to places to replace cards. Super Mom to the rescue!

I haven’t always been able to just “go” when he’s called. I didn’t go when his car was totalled – icy roads and poor visibility were the reasons he was in that mess! I didn’t go when a small kitchen accident warranted stitches at the hospital (Super Aunt did a stop-in between her kids’ activities). And I didn’t go when he needed a ride home after he had his wisdom teeth removed (Super Papa ran that gauntlet and brought him to my house for “nursing”). So it felt good to “just go”!

Everything is closed on a Sunday! However, while I was there, I cleaned up some science experiments washed dishes, Big Guy did laundry, and Little Guy helped “tidy up”. We took out some trash. We cleaned up the broken glass and secured a plastic bag over the gaping hole. We picked up some groceries and a new wallet, and we went out to eat…twice!

It was after the first meal and groceries that we returned home to find a gift on Big Guy’s front stoop – his wallet. It was battered and soggy…and nothing was missing. A good Samaritan (who had to live in the building because the door is always locked – I know this because I showed up with no way in. I don’t have a key but I did have cell phone…whose battery was completely dead) must have found out it in the bushes nearby! I love happy endings!

Super Mom got home safely last night and is rather tired today! Big Guy replaced his bank card, filed his claim with the insurance company, and likely has a new window by posting time!

You may ask why it was such a big deal for me to drive to his place alone…why I needed my “big girl panties”? It’s simple. I’m used to driving east toward my parents’ home, not west toward Big Guy’s home…and if I get in trouble driving east, I need only call and Super Mom or Super Dad would “just go” for me (that is of course, assuming my cell phone battery wasn’t dead)! It’s what were born to do!