Monday trivia, some of it political

 

My favorite student of the week, a child I wish I knew, is the one who asked his teacher if a certain word needed a “flying comma.” He meant an apostrophe, of course, but I thought it a great description. And it leads me to one of my pet peeves: you don’t need a flying comma when you refer to a decade by numerals: its 1950s, not 1950’s.

My favorite meme of the week: Don’t give the nuclear codes to a guy who isn’t allowed to own a hot dog stand in New York City. Another similar one says Don’t give the reins of government to that same guy. And that brings me to the tackiest thing any of us have seen all week: a man who wants to head one of the most powerful countries in the world hawking glitzy, cheap-looking gold hightops with his logo at a political rally. Do you suppose he comes up with these ideas himself or has help?

I realized this week there is a new wrinkle in the manners we customarily observe with friends and neighbors: it used to be if you had the sniffles, you could still go to the party. Now it’s de rigueur to cancel because you might have covid, My neighbors missed a weekend party because of this and my happy hour guest tonight cancelled because he woke with the sniffles. I thanked him.

Something that seems odd to me: the Catholic Church is on a full-blown campaign to defeat Biden because he, a good Catholic, has not come out against abortion. (He does have a few other pressing matters on his mind.) So I guess the powers that be think it’s better to urge followers to vote for a proven rapist and fraudster who still faces felony charges? And they think they are following in Jesus’ footsteps?

Kitchen fail: I saw two recipes making creative adaptive use of Hidden Valley Ranch Dip. First called for putting a packet in the juice of a 24 oz. jar of dill pickle spears. I tried it, and it’s sitting in the fridge for the required 24 hours, so I can tell you if it is a keeper or not. The second called for mixing olive oil, dill weed, garlic powder and the dry dip mix, coating two boxes of Cheezits, and baking them. Now, I loved Cheezits as a child ….in fact I used to hide them under my bed until one night I heard a strange noise that scared me half to death: a mouse had found my stash.

Back to today, I thought this sounded great and I could make it first thing, easy and quick, and get to my desk. In fact, I dreamed about it too much of the night. But the logistics were off especially for my toaster oven. It called for a single layer, which I think would require a professional oven and half sheet pan. I only used one box, but they were two and three deep. I followed the recommended temperature—375 for 30 minutes, which is high heat and a long time. You can hear this one coming: burned you-know-what out of them. (It’s fortuitous that my happy hour guest cancelled, because that’s what I was going to serve). So tomorrow night, Mary D’s regular night, she’s getting plain, unseasoned Cheezits right out of the box.

And a dog crisis averted: at five this morning, I realized I did not have a can of dog food for Sophie’s breakfast. Sophie has her routine down pat, and if you deviate from it, she lets you know with indignant barking. In the evening, she gets two tiny milk bones for treats—and she counts. If you only give her one, she demands the second. So she would definitely know she was getting kibble instead of the canned meat she adores. It’s a holiday—President’s Day—no school, no work for Christian—so I assumed they would all sleep late, and I didn’t want to wake them for a can of dog food. (I didn’t know Jordan was up at four to see Jacob off to a golf tournament). I lay there, stewing about this until I finally got up, broke my cardinal rule about never waking a sleeping dog, and fed her dry food, more of it than usual. She did give me a funny look, but she ate it and went outside. Just after she came back in, I saw Christian letting their dog out, so he brought me the case of wet food, and the day was saved.

Except between the Cheezit project and the wrong kind of food, I couldn’t go back to sleep. As I write this, the day is half over, and I’m wondering what else will happen.

The day ended peacefully, with a chicken and wild rice casserole Christian made and me getting to write my daily thousand words. Life is good, and I am grateful.