Heartbreak Hotel, Flowers & Big Brother is Watching

 

Well, here it is. Our second anniversary rolled around. Oh, not our second-year anniversary, but the second month together since we said our vows. The Macrae household has been filled with happiness and love since June 17, the day of sharing nuptials. My sweet man ensures the remembrance of our day by giving me flowers every month on the 17th. At least every month there has been so far, which we have now bypassed our second and we are moving into the third. He came home Thursday after a haircut with flowers in hand and kisses galore. I do love this man and he is nailing the husband role. 💕💝💘😍

I could not get over how beautiful this variety bouquet was! The florist even placed what I would consider to be winterberries in the mix. Gorgeous, at least if you excuse the bananas and the bottle of cleaner on either side in contrast. 

The blend of beauty even included a red rose. A single red rose. Who does not love receiving a single red rose? The significance of the red rose, in singular form, is love at first sight. Hubby informed me he looked for a bouquet with at least one red rose. It was love at first sight actually. There was a powerful connection on the first day we met. The red rose reminds me of that first day in August when we chose to meet each other in person, after chatting for a while on Plenty of Fish. Yes, we met through a dating site of all places. 

We aren't the only ones who have met online through a dating site. Mallory has recently met someone through Plenty of Fish as well, after Terry and I convinced her to see what could happen for her on the website. I used to laugh at Plenty of Fish, as there were plenty of scammers, that's for sure, and catfish galore. The day I would unknowingly meet my future husband, I logged into my account. I was set to shut my profile down, never to use the platform again. I noticed Terry had replied to my remarks about how nice his smile was and how he had kind eyes. That is how our relationship began. After many late-night hours of chatting on the phone, we met up and the rest is history. You never know where your soulmate may come from.

Mallory has met a kindhearted man, one who has a daughter the same age as her son. Terry and I are both so happy for her! She has been concentrating on raising her son rather than doing a lot of dating or getting out of the house to meet people. This created the opportunity she needed and now she has a chance at her own love story coming true, after making a couple of remarks of how she has to live vicariously through Terry and me. She is a pretty girl, and I knew this wasn't going to be the case for long. 

But before I begin delving deep into this week's post, I would like to take you back a few days. Thursday the 17th was a good day, but I will fill you in on the week we have had leading up to today. Or I should clarify that. It's the week that I have had in terms of strangeness. The cooking Gods are quite upset with me! Anyone who cooks has had these experiences, I'm certain. If not, then you are blessed beyond belief in the kitchen area of life. 

Now, I had a crazy previous couple of days, having difficulties with cooking for whatever reason. Tuesday night I wanted to please my husband by having one of his favorite dishes of pasta fagioli. His dad passed down this recipe and he loves it so much. I picked up the makings for the fagioli, the next night ham and scalloped potatoes, and the third night some baked ziti. All was good or so I thought. As the saying goes, "famous last words." 

Tuesday meant the fagioli. I carefully added the ingredients together, stirred them well, and allowed the correct simmering time to have all the ingredients marry together. I was happy with it all. I made the rice and told Terry it was all ready. Voila! One more night of cooking complete and I couldn't wait for him to dig in. I love to see him enjoy the food I make. But the look on his face wasn't one of, "Oh, my God, she has made my favorite dish again!"

Instead, my Terry loomed over the stove, staring down at the fagioli and rice. He had a confused look on his face. I stood back and waited for him to put his desired amount on the plate laid out for his meal. My quiet man looked over at me and said, "I'm confused. Is this my mom's chili?" I replied, "No. It's fagioli of course." After a couple seconds of looking completely bewildered, he said, "Um, there's no pasta?" The thought of it being pasta fagioli dawned on me as the words came out of his mouth. Oh, my Suzie Homemaker God! What was I thinking? It's not rice fagioli. 

We both laughed over the mix up and Terry suggested we have his mom's chili with some pasta the following evening. This got him a quick love-swing to his arm, along with a giggly, "Shut up." He laughed, being all proud of himself for showing his quick wit and cleverness. Ah, my man has jokes.

Wednesday evening came and I was ecstatic to have the makings for ham steaks and scalloped potatoes from scratch, one of my favorite dishes ever! I would throw some green beans in the mix to make it seem healthier, but my mouth was watering over the idea of enjoying those potatoes. Mm. 

I carefully sliced the golden potatoes, cut up some green onions and threw them all into a casserole dish. The plan was set in motion. Ah, those beautiful potatoes! Pulling out a frying pan, I began to make a rue. The rue is simple, as you melt butter, add flour to make a paste, and then add liquid. Tonight, I chose to add some chicken broth. Chicken broth is a light tasting broth, bringing a bit of flavor into a dish, but not an overwhelming taste to drown out the other delicate ingredients involved in cooking. The rue thickened perfectly. I added spices such as salt and pepper. Pouring the sauce over the potatoes, covering each and every one, made the hardcore cravings hit. It was going to be an awesome dinner!

Typically, I add a bit of cheese, just to give it another layer of flavor, as I did tonight. It is not potatoes au gratin but does add a touch of cheesy goodness. Love cheese! I placed the casserole into the preheated 375-degree oven and went back into the office. This dish usually takes about 45 minutes to an hour, depending on the thickness of the potato slices and how many are added to the casserole dish itself. I went back to work for a bit. 

About 45 minutes later, I opened the office door. Much to my surprise, I see Terry in his recliner holding both cats and Togo was sitting like a boss at his side. Nothing new here, but the shock was when I stepped out into the living room, saw my hubby and the fur babies sitting in a relaxed position, completely ignoring the billowing cloud of smoke filling the house. There was a nasty smell of something burning. It was choking me. I looked back at Terry, and he is enjoying his moments with the fur babies but was completely oblivious to the house being on fire around him. I have a question ... Where does a man's mind go in times like these? I would rather he not get panicky but come on! He was sitting in the recliner with a huge grin across his face, enjoying his moment. 

Rushing into the kitchen, I didn't see flames, but had to open the oven door to further investigate what was causing the smoke. Now, anyone who cleans the house on a regular basis knows what a disaster this can be. First, the lid to the casserole dish was, excuse my mouth, a piece of shit. The sauce was bubbling over the sides and slid down onto the bottom of the oven, including the heating element, hence the burning smell. Yes, hence. My thoughts ran to having to rid the house of the smell. This includes out of the curtains, off the animals, the couch, chair, and even the hubby. It also includes the necessity of cleaning the oven and probably the floor once I was done cleaning the appliance. One chore I absolutely despise. Oh, how I hate that task!

Pulling out the dish, I realized both the food and the dish were fine. But my oven, my perfectly clean oven was trashed. My lovely rue-based sauce dripped from the racks and coated the enamel in the bottom of the oven. Ugh. This meant a trip to the store for a pumice stone and probably a biohazard suit. I'm pretty sure the arms will hurt for the next few days from all the scrubbing in my near future too. 

We ate dinner while breathing in the nasty smoky air. Terry munched his dinner, not worried about the entire house engulfed in this smoke that was penetrating the drapes, the furniture, us, and our babies. It was making my eyes hurt and I thought an oxygen tank might be good. My sweet man sure had his remarks about the situation. One was, "I will have to tell Marina to ask you for your smoky potato recipe." I nodded my head, gave him a quick giggle and a couple of middle fingers to end that conversation. 

I opened the back door for a bit. Opened the windows a crack in the kitchen. If I open them too much, Kit will scratch at the screen. Open the door too far and the animals will escape. I had the overhead fan on. It wasn't clearing out a large amount of the smoke, but it was working overtime sucking up what it could. After dinner I put the dishes in the sink and called it a night. The cooking Gods weren't happy with me this week for whatever reason. I was hoping the following night would go much better with baking the ziti. 

Thursday evening Terry and Mallory went to a Concert in the Half Shell event at Central Park in Sutherlin. Sutherlin (or Slytherin as Terry calls it), is about 10 minutes from Roseburg, and this would be the final concert for the year. Terry wanted me to attend the concert, but I had so much to tend to. First, the oven was still covered in muck from the scalloped potatoes baked the evening before. I had the evening planned to don my gay apparel, or my biohazard suit, mask, and gloves, to clean that mess up, even as much as I was dreading the task. Secondly, I was still lightheaded from the issue with my ear. Another irrigation of the ear canal would be a good idea or so I thought. It was a fleeting thought, not one planned out well obviously.

Outside the home, we have several ornamental plum or cherry trees hanging over half of our patio. This causes plums to drop off and grind themselves into the cement on the patio surface. We have no children but do have a dog that is half white, half black and he loves to lay beside Terry on that patio. We bathed him the other day and within moments he smashed a plum into his cheek from laying on it. I'm not a real fan of the color red and I'm definitely not a fan of dirty or red dogs. This was wreaking havoc on our freshly bathed baby, and they were often drug into the house from the bottoms of our shoes. Off to the store I went. I had to retrieve a sprayer for the garden hose and some stuff to clean our oven and irrigate my ear. If I can't find an "irrigation" system that works for my ears, maybe I could just use the sprayer and hose. Oh, and what fun I will have. 😒😏😠😟😞

First off, hydrogen peroxide to soak my ear before irrigating. Check. A water hose sprayer to really put some power behind that hose water to lift the plums off the patio. I even noticed one had been squished into the patio chair. Well, I should say my ass squished it into the chair when I sat on it, not realizing it was there. Nasty things. So, one stained pair of pants later, I found a sprayer that would put enough blast behind the hose water to hopefully take the red goo off everything with red on it.   

Now, on to cleaning an oven. I searched all over the store for any sort of pumice stone to clean the oven. Inhaling oven cleaner is not a good thing, and that product is not allowed in my house. I have babies in the home and do not want them inhaling those fumes either. Ovens come clean with natural products too. 

There was not a pumie in sight! What happened to the good, old-fashioned products that actually cleaned your house and didn't focus only on the scent? I love a nice smelling, clean home too, but I want something that has some spunk behind all of the hype of smelling pretty. Now, anyone who knows me is laughing right now, since I am a candle, smell pretty cleaner, potpourri kind of gal, but I also want a good toolbox of cleaning items that get down and dirty, or clean as the case may be. I purchased a pack of copper scrubbers and hoped they would do the trick. Although, another point to having old fashioned products is that most of them have so many chemicals in them that you can make your own bottle of Round Up. 

The photo shown here is not the brand, but it does show the type of scrubber I bought. I had never used this type before but since there were no pumice stone helpers anywhere, I would give them a shot anyway. Already having the cleaning solution for the oven, I was on my way back home to attend to the chores while the hubby was out. Having him gone helped out because the car was not near the patio to fling dirt on. I attached the sprayer, and it had those flattened plums flying! There were several that had melded to the concrete, but all in all, it came clean by just blasting water on it. Of course, the tree continued to drop more so by nightfall there were purple balls of juicy nastiness just waiting to attach itself to the dog's coat once again.

Inside where I could at least enjoy the air conditioning as I cleaned, I sprayed down the oven. Using a vinegar and lemon-based cleaner called 9, I was hoping it would be strong enough to bust through the sauce that had baked into the oven surface. Typically, I mix vinegar and baking soda together to form a paste, then add a couple drops of dishwashing liquid to seal the deal but thought the natural cleaner might work with the baking soda. The cleaner was allowed to sit and bubble for a bit. I picked up a copper scrubber and went in for the clean. Amazingly enough, the copper scrubber worked! Voila! Another task accomplished. Wow, I'm good. Yes, I'm patting myself on the back. I've still got it in the cleaning department.

Meanwhile, Terry and Mallory were at the concert. It seemed Mallory's aunt and uncle and the new man she met, John, had all gathered at the park, along with Terry and Togo. Terry said it was a nice little party and that he enjoyed the Elvis impersonator. 

In the alternate universe, outside of household chores, Mr. Justin Shandor sang about broken hearts and hotels like a boss. Terry said he was amazing. I'm glad he got a chance to go and listen to the outdoor concert. And just who wants to miss those outfits?

And back to my evening, you find me putting drops of hydrogen peroxide in my ear and then shooting water into the canal from a syringe. It was a devastatingly extravagant, wild evening at home. What can I say? I really do know how to party. Squirting water into my ears had me walking sideways in no time! I may not drink, but I can imitate a drunk with the best of them! I spent a while walking cockeyed due to the pressure of the water on my ear drums. Happens every time. I felt drunk for about 40 minutes or so and then it seemed to clear a bit. At least I was able to continue with my well thought out, fun evening. The excitement was almost too much to bear. 

I baked some chocolate chip cookies now that the oven was clean. Bet you're jealous of all the good times I have, huh? My last chore was to dye my hair a blonde color. Killer fun. Who needs a concert in a park? Elvis? Nah. I have hair dye and oven cleaning solution and most of all, chocolate chip cookies that I can't eat. Brilliant plan. Absolutely freaking mind blowing dreams really do come true.

The sloshing sound in the ears was great too. There was audio with my off-balance walk. I was dancing and hearing "music" that sounded like I was in a tunnel. I staggered around the house for a bit and Terry showed up just in time to join me in watching a movie, eating dinner, and heading to bed. We had such an exciting day that I guess we wore ourselves out. Looking for a party on a Thursday or Friday night? Hey, come join us. We know how to rock it. Messing with the equilibrium in your ears and cleaning patios is a major good time, especially when you do them all within moments of each other! But the mind blower is the cleaning of an oven. Stunning, brilliant evening, I must say. Absolutely brilliant. 

Friday comes around once a week, yes. But nobody has a blast like we do on our Friday. We sat at home. Terry smoked cigars. I cleaned up the dishes from my Thursday night disaster. I was still getting the faint stench of smoke once in a while and was taking out stock in my favorite air freshener company. Terry took off to go up to the video store to see what he could find in terms of movies. I finished work and decided to check out some stuff on TV. But wait. What? I found out Big Brother had been airing some episodes without me. How dare they? 

Yes, I am a Big Brother viewer. I'm not a super fan and just barely a fan, that's for sure. But I do like watching the game play and yelling at the TV when someone I do not care for is about to win. It's not my proudest moment and I cannot believe I'm mentioning it to the public. Let's keep it a secret though, okay? It definitely is, I must admit, a guilty pleasure. 

 I do grow tired of some of the drama when there is no need for it. However, all in all, I do like to watch. Some players are just too cool for school. Their game play is amazing. I can't figure out what to do during my day or what to wear, yet they are planning days ahead in terms of their strategy. They know who they are telling what and who they are going to avoid. It's incredible to me. I've never been a planner, nor do I intend to become one at this stage in my life. I am what I am. 

Big Brother had aired several episodes, and I was missing them. Not the end of the world and it is a first world problem, but it is my sinful desire, outside of making smoky potatoes. Welcome to my life. 

I was able to watch one episode before cooking dinner. This meant going back into the kitchen that was not cooperative last weekend. I swear Harry must be at it again, but this time not just in the basement. As a side note, Harry is still turning the light off and on in the basement. Not every night, but it is still happening. The light switch is physically moved into the "on" position when this happens. Still no negative feelings down there, although it is at least once or twice a week "he" plays with the light. No explanation. None needed and none wanted. I have chosen to ignore it. Terry, Mallory and I have decided laughter is the best policy to follow in that case. Ignore it and maybe it will go away.   

Anyway, back to the kitchen ... Tonight is baked ziti. Cooked the hamburger. Put in two jars of marinara sauce. Boiled some ziti. Mixed the sauce and ziti pasta and threw it into my nice clean oven, but not before setting it on a baking sheet. Yes folks, she can be taught! 

The ziti came out well. Finally, something worked for me in that kitchen, although lest I forget that batch of chocolate chip cookies I baked! They were good looking, and Terry devoured the plate of them. I can count on my Terry to eat what is put in front of him for the most part. The rice fagioli sure put on the brakes for a while though. I've never seen the man pause before food. To end my evening of excitement, I kissed Terry goodnight and crawled into bed to relax for a while. It wasn't my intention, but I fell asleep quickly.  

At seven o'clock Saturday morning, I began receiving all sorts of text notifications. Panic set in immediately. I grabbed the phone, thinking someone was in danger, or had caught on fire or had an emergency of some kind and they needed me now. Each and every "beep" on my phone made my heart jump. After about eight notifications, fumbling of the phone to get ahold of it, and pissing myself out of fear, I was able to find out what was happening. 

It was my Internet service, letting me know that a man named Jorge would be coming within moments. The next one informed me that Jorge was on his way. Following that was one asking me to fill out a survey on how Jorge did when Jorge still wasn't here yet to perform duties for me to judge him on. I had several others informing me that they were glad I chose them to be my Internet provider. My heart was pounding, partially because I was still in shock that my phone had jarred me out of a deep sleep mode and I had to get my head into life once more, and partially because I was pissed. My entire morning had started before I wanted it to, and it began without an easing into the day.  I like to take my time in getting prepped for the rest of the day. I shook off the anger and collected myself.  

Jorge arrived about 15 minutes later. Very pleasant man without a clue, I'm sure, of the anger I held toward his employers. We have been having our Internet service intermittently go down and then up again or shut off for a while. Almost every morning I go through the process of shutting down the modem and router and then rebooting them again. I can count on it. Terry and I will be watching a movie, and the Internet cannot handle it. If I were a bit more fearful of the world as a whole, I would assume it was some sort of conspiracy against what we may watch on television. Can we say annoying and maybe even a bit of "creepy?" I finally called them, and they delivered, but not before scaring me into an ugly gray hairdo. And I had just dyed my hair!

Jorge replaced our modem, and we were off and running again. I did go back and complete the survey after he left, giving Jorge such high marks for being so polite and good at what he does. He was helpful in explaining things, very polite and to the point. He installed it, explained it, and brushed dirt over the matter. In and out. That's the type of installation I like. He did check outside to ensure everything in the box was working correctly. I liked Jorge and his services. At 7 AM? Not so much. I don't care if it were the angels themselves. No. Wait until nine or so. 

The other part of the survey was not scoring such high marks. I made sure they knew how annoying and terrifying it was to receive that many notifications, that early in the morning, suggesting they might want to tone that shit down a bit. I have a daughter under a fire watch right now and I thought the world was coming apart for her and her husband and extending to my world as well since I love them dearly. Instead, it was only my world blowing up because I was too bold in thinking I need Internet for work.

 Yes, the universe is telling me something this week. I'm just not sure yet what it may be. Stay out of my kitchen and do not value the Internet? Or maybe Harry thought it a great idea to stir the pot again. We have been ignoring him a bit after all. I guess Terry and I should really step up our game in throwing the guy a bone once in a while. No pun intended. 

Saturday brought on an event at the same park the concert was held. Terry and I loaded up Togo and drove the short distance to the park. The annual Blackberry Festival was being held. Terry and I were both newcomers to the event and thought we would try it out. It seemed as though the entire town had arrived at the same time. We lucked out for a parking space, as someone pulled out while we came around the corner. It was a space very close to the festivities. 

We entered through the "gates" and wow! What a turnout! There was a car show that put the auto show of the Fourth of July to shame. People were admiring the displayed vintage cars and a few cars that were newer but special. It was a hot day too, but not as hot as it has been. We aren't in hell any longer heat wise, but Oregon is definitely on fire! No, quite literally. Fires all around us. Everywhere. If you're not on fire, you're inhaling smoke. Bless those who are dealing with this, especially those in Lahaina, Hawaii. 

The booths were filled with all sorts of homemade goodies. There were sun catchers, wind chimes, T-shirts, candles, clothing for little girls and much, much more. Food aromas were mixing and wafting through the air, enticing attendees to visit their truck. There were people walking by with shaved ice on top of ice cream and some had chocolate syrup or other toppings drizzled over the mountain of cool goodness. A pizza parlor had set up a truck in the event and hot, cheesy, delicious Abby's Pizza was being served up by the slice. Hot dogs. Fry breads. A plethora of yummy items for sale. I hate the word, "Plethora", but it's about that to describe how many food trucks were available. As a writer, you just have to use the word plethora once in a while. It fits. 

We took a stroll around the aisles of cars. You could find a wide variety of makes, models, and years of automobiles along the rows. Interesting car show!

Always loved the 'maro. Any year. Love these cars! Drove a '76 black on black stock Camaro back in the day. Awesome car. The Camaro was my first love. 

Not a fan of red for cars, but this Corvair was actually quite pretty. 

Loved this vintage car. Excuse Togo's lovely fluffy ass in the photo. 

Then there was this. I want one! A Willy's Coupe. 

Oh, yeah. My heart sings. 

In between the rows of cars, we stopped and saw a couple of booths that were in the line of sight. These cute butter dishes and other ceramic pieces were great! 

This was a wall in memory of all of those who lost their lives in war. All the soldiers, men and women, are from Oregon. It's heartbreaking to look at things that remind us of how horrible (and stupid) war really is. May those who served and lost their lives rest in peace. 

Togo was being so patient, waiting for the next command from "daddy." 

It was a fun time and a good day to get out. But it was definitely getting hotter as the day progressed. It's not as hot as it has been although the heat was still horrible after walking a while in the sun. 

Heading back to the car show to get to those cars we had not seen yet. 

Now we're talking! No, not the guy in the photo who is glaring at me, but the cars! Those beautiful cars. 

Model T. I would love to have one of these too ... and look there ... The keys are still in it. Hmm. My next post will be a plea for bail money. You'd help a girl out, right? 

Just trying to show the front of the car, not the back of this woman. She stood there for what seemed like forever!

Way off in the distance sat this little Mustang. A raffle was being held to give away this 'stang. Each raffle ticket was $5. I guess you could enter as many times as you would have liked. Hmm. Not a real Ford fan, but hey, it wouldn't be a bad thing to win a car. You could sell it. I did not enter the raffle, but it is a great idea. Good luck to those who purchased their tickets. 

Terry and I have come home and are enjoying the rest of this smoke-filled sunny day here, with our babies. I'm going to be cooking up dinner later, that is if Harry isn't up to his usual stuff and hasn't blown up the kitchen altogether or something to that extreme. If he has, we may be heading over to Arby's, one of our favorite restaurants. Not because of the food so much but because Terry enjoys giving my food to other women. It's his thing. That's what it is. 

We are also relaxing. Terry is watching TV. I am writing and we are both taking time out to enjoy our babies. 

Mister Fluff Butt and his spoiled ways conned daddy into some arm pit scratching because ... Well, just because he can. And yes, we have all the new furniture covered because we have dogs that shed, but cats that love to shred. Shred or shed, bad on furniture. Maybe one day we will be able to see our new living room additions.

Jasper is an old man who has allergies, so he likes to scratch himself. Yes, he is sucking on and chewing his toes. It is what he does. It is spa day. We have shampoo and all sorts of fun things to help with that. 

Our Kit Kat is hanging out on the floor, watching his "sister". She is attached to the white foot and leg you see in the corner of the picture. He is always minding anybody's business. 

Saturday turns into dusk and finally into night. Inside the Macrae "mansion," we spend time watching TV, chatting, and sharing the day's adventures, and of course, loving each other and our furry family members too. 

We wish you all a great weekend!