Revenge By Proxy

 22 May 2024

1116

R. Linda:

Well, well, well! I didn't think this would ever happen, but it did. An unwelcome blast from the past name was mentioned the other day, and it was quite the tale that was told to me. I have a cousin back in Ireland who was the bane of me existence. I hated her visits and would hide from her. Me sainted cousin would instruct me sister Sheila and meself on being good children and respectful citizens. She was filled with prissy notions that we should care how we dress, how we speak, etc. She was most annoying to an extreme, and every time Mam would say, "Your cousin Oonagh be coming over today, please be nice and entertain her. Don't ya run off now."

We ran off on three occasions, paid the price of no dinner, and spent the evening reading books in our room. No TV, no snacks, we weren't allowed to talk to each other, and this, of course, made us dislike Oonagh more. She was four years older than me sissy, so she thought she knew it all and acted like it. We were living at the time, on me grandparent's farm in the Republic. SHE was living the grand life in Bangor, NI. Her father was quite a ways up in the running of Ulster County, so they had a lot more than we ever did. 

Oonagh lorded it over us she did. She was one of those people who was over prideful and vain. She was always in dresses and expensive shoes and carried a purse, which we made fun of behind her back. No one in my sissy's circle of friends did that. That purse was used as a lecture item on one occasion.

"Did YOU know that the QUEEN carries her purse on her left side? Yes, she does. And when she is aggrieved by someone, she switches it to her right as a signal she desires her minions to save her from said bore."

We had to sit through an entire lecture on the Queen's purse and how to properly use one. Like I was going to need that information, and if you knew me sister, she would be the last person to care about the proper side to wear a purse. 

As for me, I had to demonstrate pulling out a chair at the dinner table for Oonagh to sit upon and then whip her napkin on her lap. All this I was instructed by HRH was what a gentleman does for a lady. And I would not have demonstrated this, but Mam told me to show her what Oonagh had taught me! 

So it was with delight and glee I listened to me sister's blow-by-blow of what happened to Ms. Oonagh when she came to visit Sheila not too long ago. Seems our Oonagh has mellowed a bit. She's been divorced five times, and each time, it took a toll on her as being seen as unfit to keep a wealthy husband. I guess it was because she spent all their money and they were beside themselves, so divorce city it was FIVE TIMES! Who does that?

It was after number five had had enough of her haughty ways and outrageous spending that she paid a visit to Sheila. Of course, her manners were still intact, and she did warn me Sissy she would be stopping by. This meant Sheila had to go out and buy the best tea available, make homemade scones and be sure to have clotted cream and jams available for the royal visit. Yessir, better her than me.

Now, something you should know about Sheila. Besides being a rebel all her life (and still is), she thinks nothing of munching on THC gummies to take the stress off. She started taking them for her anxiety. This stumps me because, if anything, Sheila be the last person in the world that seems anxious. The royal visit stressed her, which is hard to believe because, if anything, Sheila be an overly strong personality. Nothing seems to bother her. Well, feeling mellow, she was prepared for Oonagh. Said royal arrived all flustered and embarrassed by her latest divorce and, with lace hanky in hand, fluttered about the living room looking for a clean chair to sit in. With hanky at the ready, she brushed the seat of her selection and sat it down, then the arms of said chair. This, you can well understand, annoyed me sissy. Her furniture was old but clean and well . . . the royal nerve!

Listening to the sob story (between sobs), Sheila said something like, "Let me get you some refreshments that will make you feel better." And off she went to bring in the tea things. While she was busy in the other room, Oonagh, being quite a blubbery mess, saw a candy dish full of what looked like little raspberry candies. She picked one up and looked at it. It was gummy, so because her throat was raw from all the wailing she was doing, she popped one in her mouth. Now Sheila had forgotten the gummies were out in her haste to answer the door so the royal personage could step inside. 

As soon as the kettle was ready, Sheila poured the water into her ceramic teapot (for looks, how would it be to serve from the kettle, huh?). She set the infuser in, and this took a bit of time, time which she was drawing out not wanting to go back into the living room, but alas, she couldn't put it off any longer, so in she went with the tray ladened with tea things and goodies.

She nearly dropped the tray because as she reappeared, there was Oonagh, the scarf she had worn so decorously wrapped over the back of the chair, her short waist suit jacket crumpled on the floor, and pricey shoes kicked off. Still, the look on her face of dreamy oblivion nearly caused a commotion on Sheila's part, so stunned was she by this unusual transformation.

"Arr, ye all right?" Sheila asked, stupified. 

"Oh, my gracious good goodness, I don't know what's wrong with me? Suddenly, this feeling of lightheadedness came over me, and I got hot. Then I felt drowsy."

Sheila spied the gummies on the table next to Oonagh. Before she could ask if Oonagh had helped herself to the "candy", Oonagh raised up out of her chair and pointed at the wall behind Sheila.

"You painted rainbows! How do you get them to move like that?" 

Uh oh. Just how many gummies did Oonagh help herself to? The wall was white. There were no rainbows and certainly not any movable ones floating about the wall. 

Sheila, too stunned to utter a word, watched as if in slow motion as Oonagh's hand went for another gummie. 

"Nooo, Oonagh, stop! Those arr . . . " Sheila put the tea things down with a bit of a crash and went for the bowl full of feel-good. Swinging it up out of Oonagh's reach, she laughed self-consciously and mumbled something about the gummies looking like candy, but weren't they medication? Of course, this was all above Oonagh's head because she was very high R. Linda, so high she wasn't comprehending a word out of Sheila's mouth. No indeed. 

The visit, which was to be a short one on Sheila's part, lasted hours, and I mean hours, as Sheila did everything she could to bring her guest "down" from the heights of THC dreamland that she could think of. She estimated Ms. Oonagh partook of at least three gummies, enough to make a horse win the Royal Ascot Derby thrice and all at once!

When I heard all this and the aftermath of Oonagh finally sobering up to understand what he ingested and repeating to Sheila over and over, she let her manners down by helping herself instead of asking her hostess for a piece of "candy." The whoa is her about succumbing to lower class behaviour, etc., etc., etc. She said she'd never live it down. Well, she won't because Sheila has started off conversations with, "Remember when you were high at my house?" and "You know Oonagh, I be tinking of paintin' rainbows on dat wall you taught already had 'em when . . . " Well, I had to laugh and laugh and laugh, and I got it out of me system that finally Oonagh was acting like an ordinary citizen and not one of the high and mighty. 

I tell ya, revenge by sister (even accidentally) be sweet. 

Gabe

Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved

The Mother's Day Conversation Or Something Like That AND The Piece de Resistance On Ebay

19 May 2024

1115

R. Linda:

Mam was gifted for Mother's Day, a slew of flowering plants that she hinted she "needed" for her garden. Tonya got a slew of herbs and lavender that she, too, hinted she needed for "her" garden. And Mam, a little something else that cost me a small ransom, but more about that later.

I should have known the day would be strange when both women came down early for coffee, me having gotten up early to make it. I had been chatting with Tonya while the house slept, and we were discussing the night before when we went out to see more Northern Light activity, but the clouds made that nearly impossible, and I got only one last parting shot. Ton had caught a chill from being out without a jacket and now has a cold (she thinks).

Not long after Tonya's arrival, Mam came down, passing us within earshot on her way to the coffee pot and wished us a sleepy good morning (the woman is like me -- in a fog until she's had at least a sip) and said in her groggy sleep-filled voice, that she was cold and needed coffee to warm up as well. She heard in her foggy brain Tonya saying the word cold, and she took it to mean something else. The wife says, "Yes, I got quite a chill from last night and have a cold." 

OK, so I said nothing, thinking I was hearing wrong. Well, to make a long, insane conversation short, they talked to each other on different subjects, but the thread was similar. Neither seemed to notice the other was talking about something else. But I did. It was like a ping-pong match. My head went back and forth, me mouth agape, thinking I was in the middle of two nutcases.

The last of the Aurora, the lavender, one last time

When I told them I made Mother's Day breakfast, I noticed they both had their slippers off and were comparing feet. I left them to it. They shuffled in shortly after discussing Tonya's mother's bunions and how surgeons break every bone in the foot and insert a rod to correct the deformity. Suffice it to say, I didn't take that as proper breakfast talk around the table and tried to change the subject.

I needn't have bothered; the kiddos came clamouring down, hungry as squirrels after a snowy winter, and the chatter got louder and louder until I nearly had to cover me ears from the din.

I ended up planting all the daffodils that were bought at Easter, including a container that was to go to the wife of a friend of mine, along with Bernie's Beans (coffee) for him. They were supposed to join us for Easter dinner but had to cancel at the last minute. If we have guests, we usually gift them a live plant because all the relatives get one, and we don't want anyone to feel left out. So I told the husband I had these things (I went out and bought another plant, hydrangea this time because I wasn't about to present dead flowers), and we made a date to meet for lunch. I had a prior appointment in the morning that took longer than expected, and I had texted him I was running late. We did manage to meet up, but in the process, I forgot the coffee and the plant. I tell ya!

Yup, left at home

Just before Mother's Day, I overheard Tonya and O'Hare talking about getting me Mam a Limoges plate she wanted. She collects these, and I thought, hey, that's a great idea. I'd find one on eBay and get her another because she does so much for us. Little did I know that Tonya had found one open for bids on eBay, and it turned out to be the same one I was going to bid on. A few days later, at dinner, we were both glancing at our watches, but I didn't notice Tonya doing that consciously because I was too busy watching the time the bid on that fancy plate was coming to the closing bid. We left abruptly after dinner, leaving O'Hare and Mam to clean up. We told them we had something important to do because we didn't want to spill the beans to Mam, but neither Tonya nor I noticed the other was off like a flash, her to the living room, me upstairs to my office.

When I had placed an opening bid on the plate, it was already sitting with one bid on it. It had to be for the original price because my bid took up $1.00 more. Now I saw the bid was $10.00 more than when I had checked it last, so I upped it to $20.00 more, thinking that would keep me a high bidder. But no sooner had I done that the bid came back that I was outbid. The countdown had begun, and if you set about obtaining an item, that time brings a bit of panic and nervous energy to the fore. I sighed, "Ok, invisible bidder, take this!" And I punched in $10.00 only to be outbid a second later. Oi! I decided this was just driving up the price, and I'd wait until we were four seconds from the end. I sat there, and the bid did not move. I was tempted to punch in again, but no, I wasn't going to play that. 

14 seconds, and I could feel the adrenaline and my hands shaking. I figured I'd punch in an absorbent number and win because no one would go that high. $65.00 more buckeroos were paused to pounce once I reached the 3 seconds, and there it came, and WHAMMO, I clicked in, and you know what? I won. Only I won by spending a shitload more than I was planning. I won by $2.00 less the $65.00 I had foolishly added to the pot, thinking there was no way Jose would anyone bid that much. Well, they did.

Zombie-like, I walked back towards the living room. I met Tonya, looking glum, coming out with her iPhone. She says, "Well, I didn't get the plate I wanted for your mother for Mother's Day. Some ass outbid me. I can't believe it went for so much. I even put in an astronomical sum I didn't think ANYONE in their right mind would go up to, but fool me, some asshole did!"

"Wait, wait a minute, what plate was it?" I asked suspiciously I was the asshole. 

 She clicked the screen, and sure enough! I put me hands to me face and rubbed like I was trying to wake up or throw off the disbelief we had bid on the same thing.

"Uh, that asshole? He would be me." I said, pointing to meself.

"WHAT?" She looked stunned.

"I overheard you and O'Hare, and I thought I'd get her another one so she'd have two since she does so much for this family."

"You know, Gabe, it would have been nice if you had told me you were going to do that."

"How'd I know you were looking at the same plate? There are dozens," I said, slightly heated.

"I know what she likes. Your mother showed me one plate she has that there was a second she wanted. I hunted that thing down for months and finally found it on eBay!"

"Ugh!" Was all I could muster, then, "Well, you got it."

"No, you got it!" 

"No, I am giving it to you to give to her. My bad. I should have said something. I just thought it would be a surprise, was all."

"It IS! To me, at least." She paused a moment, then said, "Thank you. You spent way, way, way, too, too, too much." And off she went.

Mam was thrilled when she received the plate on her big day. I don't think she noticed the looks Tonya and I exchanged over her head as she fawned over the plate. Yup, we won't be doing that again anytime soon. 

Now Mam has the other plate she wanted

Gabe

Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved

The Northern Lights Over New Hampshire

10 May 2024

1114

R. Linda:

While in Ireland, the Northern Lights show up every so often. I have seen a greenish tint to the sky but nothing to write home about or photograph. It was in me mind I'd never seen a really good display. Upon arrival in the New World, there were several times the weather people would predict that New England was prime to see the Northern Lights, but I never saw them, and I did stand outside waiting for an appearance I did. The only thing I got for me trouble was a cold and a chill.

Yesterday, there was much ado about the solar storm being severe on the level of the intensity scale, and by 10 p.m., the scale had reached an extreme, which made me think I should go outside and see if I could see the lights if that's the case.

Well, behold, R. Linda! I got photos! I am sorry two are blurry, but I was nearly jumping as excited as I was that I got to see them more fully. I can take this off me bucket list, and there are more predicted for tonight. 

I understand that pink, purple and red are rare and that green and deep blue are usually the norm. So imagine me surprise that I was able to photograph the rare colours. The green was murky later on, around midnight, when supposedly the intensity of the solar flares was said to progress, and the colours were deemed to be magnificent. I didn't see that. From 10 to 11:30 p.m., the sky was deep purple, and that flash of red was phenomenal. 

So here, for your viewing pleasure, are a few photos of what my family witnessed last night. And, oh yes, we will be out again tonight to see more, hopefully.

Started off with a pink colour

Then, a deep purple

The highlight of the night, a red sky

Gabe

Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved

The Spider

25 April 2024

1113

R. Linda:

It was what was becoming a typical day, cloudy and chilly with a chance of rain in the afternoon. Tonya was off on a personal day and being she saw the clouds rolling in, she decided to take the long walk to the mailbox for the mail before it poured.

She had brushed out our one remaining dog so he looked beautiful and she thought to take him with her for some exercise. She told me of course, looking so fine, he made for every pile of leaves he could, and was dragging the dried-up dirty remains at the end of his fringe. She stopped several times to clear him off but gave up. 

They were almost to the end of the driveway when she noticed between them was a good-sized spider running along with them. She said it was odd because she could almost hear the thing telling her it wanted to come inside and be part of the family. Did I tell you Tonya is on new medication for her thyroid? Well, I think that has something to do with this communication with an insect. 

She said to it, "Stop don't go any further and no you can't come inside."

To which (in her head) the spider replied, "I'll be hitching a ride in." 

She said it stopped and she did not look back. She continued on to the mailbox. She got the mail and said on her way back, she remembered the spot where she last saw the spider. He, or she, was not there. "Good," she thought and went back to the house.

She put the mail on the kitchen counter to sort it when she saw out of the corner of her eye, Mam's kitten batting something across the floor wildly and violently. It was the SPIDER!!!

She was shocked it had hitched a ride she thinks with the dog since the dog had been in that area when they came in. She gathered the kitten up, but it was intent on its quarry and she was having a time of it trying to remove the cat from the spider. The spider, meanwhile, was running towards Tonya, who isn't a spider fan. She squished it and instantly regretted she did.

"I should have gotten a tissue and put it back outside. I feel awful. I wasn't thinking, merely reacting and it was coming to me for help." She was almost in tears telling me this.

Well, I found out it is a wolf spider, and they mean humans no harm. They try to come inside in the fall and we have seen them before, and they don't like the rain, so perhaps it came in because of that. They rarely bite unless provoked and are not poisonous. When Tonya found all that out she felt even worse. 

The best was when her youngest was moving passed her dressed in his rain gear. He had a small Tupperware box and was halfway out the door when she called after him about where he was going in the rain (it was raining by then, and Mam didn't help much when she heard the story and informed Tonya if you kill a spider you will make it rain, and it did making Ton feel even more guilty). He informed her he was going spider hunting and would bring her home a new spider. Yup, just what she wanted, NOT. 

"Awww, you are so sweet," she told the boyo, but then she also informed him one spider for the day was enough she didn't need a replacement. She was good. He looked all disappointed but he got the gear off and settled by her side for cookies and milk. 

I don't know what's in her meds but really? Feeling remorse over a spider -- something she has in the past had no trouble stamping out? Well, we await her blood tests to find out if she needs a change of medication. I am hoping so because if she is going to get all soppy over insects it's going to be a fun summer in the garden. 

Gabe

Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved

Birthdays! Aren't They Wonderful?

17 April 2024

1112

R. Linda:

Yesterday there was a birthday in the house. Sean's. Yes, the miscreant be still with us. His birthday was a few days ago, but no one was available, including himself to celebrate it. So last night it got celebrated. Mam had ironed a special birthday tablecloth, complete with placemats and napkins. She decorated the table in birthday mode and even got coloured forks for the occasion. 

I was getting ready to go off to work when Sean came in and asked me who the party table was for. 

"You! You're the one with the birthday."

"Effft," he says and waves it all off and out the door he went. 

Mam happened to come in behind him and overheard the "Effft" which didn't make her happy she went to all that trouble and his arse doesn't appreciate her time and effort on his behalf. I knew her feelings were slightly hurt, but she said she expected as much from "that one."

Last night Tonya was going to make Sean his favourite dish which is (and this will turn your stomach, it turns mine), Campbell's Cream of Chicken Soup, mixed with bits of cut-up chicken, Stove Top Stuffing Mix and topped off with cheddar cheese. You stick this concoction in the oven and serve it hot. 

Tonya called Mam to tell her she was running late, and would Mam start the dinner. Now before this, me Mam had reluctantly baked Sean his favourite birthday cake, Funfetti Cake from a box with Funfetti icing from a can. 

I had come home by the time of the phone call, so I knew about the request via me Mam. She informed me she would spring for three pizzas because, personally, she couldn't bring herself to prepare that disaster of a dinner and then be forced to eat it. I was with her. There is nothing more tasteless than that dried-out dish of Sean's. Besides, he loves pizza, so why not? 

Shortly after the pizza order was put in, the eldest came home from work and overheard the order. 

"What pizza again?" He whispered to me.

Seems he had pizza on Saturday and Sunday, and then again on Tuesday. The weekend, because he pet-sat a neighbour's animals and they had bought him two pizzas and he ate both. Then Tuesday at work they had Pizza Tuesday and he ate it again. Now he was having pizza for the fourth time. 

"Don't get me wrong, Da. I love pizza, just not a straight diet of it."

Oh well. 

So dinner came along with the pizza and Sean said nothing about how nice it was to have the pies, no he just ate one entire pie himself and Mam was a bit miffed, but said nothing. 

Then cake time came and Tonya loaded the cake up with candles. I thought for a moment we would need the fire department. I must have looked rather shocked because Sean said in a whisper, "She loaded the cake up with candles, didn't she?"

"You could say that." I smiled brightly.

Well, the firey cake was placed in front of the birthday boy, and he somehow managed to blow out every single one of a hundred candles in one breath. Good for him, I guess. 

Earlier in the day I had been working on a news blurb about what junk foods cause cancer and one of the, or more correctly, two of the items on the list were Funfetti cake and icing. This I had sent to Tonya thinking she might find the list helpful the next time she grocery shopped. She remembered the Funfetti and mentioned it to the entire table, that we should enjoy "the cancer cake" now because we weren't getting another, ever. 

To which the kiddos picked up on this with every mouthful of cake they put in their cakehole remarking with, "Mmmm cancer cake, so good," or "Have another bite of your cancer cake, yum!"

The entire list was discussed with the eldest asking to look at the list which I texted to him and he proceeded to say:

"Trix Cereal, I'm dead. OH! Lucky Charms, I'm dead. Fruit Loops, I'm dead. Oreo Cookies, I'm really dead, uh oh Swedish Fish, I'm more than dead, M & M's -- DEAD!"

Everything on the list we buy. So we're all dead. 

See here:

After some laughter and self-depreciation at their own dietary expense, Mam handed Sean his birthday presents from her. One was a cup that had Sean's favourite grocery store logo on it to which he was very happy and laughed over. The second, her "big" present was a Patagonia $399 water-proof jacket she thought would keep him dry and warm and she got it at a discount (still expensive, too expensive for Sean), and when he opened it he said, "What's this?" She told him, without telling him it was one of the finer and probably the finest piece of clothing he'd ever own. Was lost on him and her face fell. I felt so bad for her. 

Tonya did pipe up and say, "Hey Sean, if you don't want any of that I'll take it." To which he said, she probably would anyway. Whatever that means.

But we aren't quite finished. There is a 30-year-old broom, a small decoration that hangs on a cupboard door. Guido had got up and rubbed up against it instead of pushing his chair in when Tonya mentioned taking caution with the broom because it was old, to which Sean said yeah, "It's your grandmother's and she won't be able to fly on it if you break it."

Well, that was it. Mam was now feeling hurt he was referring to her as a witch after all she did to try to give him a nice birthday. All I can say is that is Sean. Stupid and mindless, doesn't appreciate much and cares only for himself. 

Tonya quick on the recovery said to Sean, "Oh, no, that old broom is MY broom, Mom has a deluxe version by the fireplace, don't you Mom? So Sean you be careful because Halloween we both gear up our brooms and well . . . you'd be a fine target in that new jacket that I'm going to take when you're not looking."

He laughed about it and we went back to the cancer cake. I noticed three of us didn't touch it. Sean had seconds and I think later thirds and fourths because most of that cake is gone.

I was told a few minutes ago, that the wee one (who isn't so wee anymore), caught Sean on a late-night raid of the cake and wagged his finger at him, admonishing that if Sean ate that whole thing, he should be mindful of what kind of cake he was consuming. 

"And what be that little man?" Sean asked.

"Cancer cake Mr. Sean." And off to bed, the wee one went, having done his due diligence. 

So there Sean! Eat that cake if you dare!

Gabe

Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved

The Baileys Cheesecake Takes On The Looks Of An Angel Food Cake

18 March 2024

1111

R. Linda:

Mam is getting old. Yes, indeed, she is getting on there, I guess. We were all helping out in the kitchen for our big holiday, St. Patrick's Day, when she took it upon herself to do most of the cooking. She says so we have "authentic" Irish cuisine. That's the excuse like I be some Irish American now who wasn't born on the old sod but here somewhere. I'd like to know when and how this happened. Me birth certificate does not reflect that at all. But SHE insists she be the only AUTHENTIC IRISH in the house. 

I wasn't in the mood to argue with her as I had slipped Baileys in me coffee several times yesterday morning and wasn't in a combative mood. No, I was enjoying the silky taste of the Baileys-spiked coffee and thinking how nice a nob of whipped cream would be on top, but then, if I did that, they'd all know what I was doing and why I was enjoying me cup of joe so much. 

Anyway, Mam made her soda bread. I knew it was done right. I was slouched over the counter slurring me speech at her trying to sound as American as possible just to get a few digs in. She had set up the baked beans to soak the night before. I put those together since I be (according to her) an Irish Bostonian. Don't ask; I think it is because I work there and have been here longer than she that she is nitpicking. Of course, I could be all wrong, and it's age and memory. OR, more likely a cake disaster she was hiding. I dunno.

With the beans in the pot, baking away in the oven, and the coffee all gone, I left her to it. She was going to start a Bailey's cheesecake, and I thought, what could go wrong? She's a baking whiz. I took meself to work in my home office while the clatter of pots and pans rang out in the not-so-far distance. 

As I was finishing up my work and going on to my email, she came in with the mixing bowl and a spatula. 

"Ere' try dis and tell me wot ye tink," she said, handing it over.

Well, not being one to turn down sweet leftovers, I dug in, and begorrah, me—it was fecking good! 

"Is this a new recipe?" I asked, licking the spatula and thinking about doing the same with the bowl.

"Ay, I found me gran's old recipe and decided to try it."

I laughed deep inside. She never cooks other than her own recipes, so this was a first for me: that her grandmother's recipe might be better than her own, and it was, I hate to admit. 

"By da luke of yer face, I cun see yer likes it."

I gave her the bowl and spatula and shook my head enthusiastically.

"Ok, den," she mumbled, going out.

I sat there not getting email but dreaming of that cheesecake. I know, I know, I can't help meself when it comes to food. I should be a fat man by now, but alas, still a long, tall, skinny guy. 

As I finally removed myself from food dreams, I was reading an email when I heard -- cursing. Cursing that would wake the devil it was. Then it got soft and stopped just as I was about to get up and see what was happening in the kitchen. 

With all quiet on the home front, I finished up and, an hour later, wandered into the kitchen. There was no sign of a cheesecake anywhere. Uh oh. I looked in the refrigerator and notta. I looked on the counter, I even looked in the trash and could not locate el cheesecake. 

Panicking because it was THAT good, I went to find her when she and I almost collided. I was leaving the kitchen, and she was coming in. 

"Where be the cheesecake?" I asked in amuck sweat.

"Uhhh . . . about dat," she said, looking at the ceiling and rolling her eyes.

"Yeah? Yeah?" I prompted when someone needed to be more forthcoming.

"I poot it in da wrong pan. Dare, I said it."

"Whatyamean?" I was starting to lose it.

"Don't get yer knickers in a twist, dare Gabriel, it's in da oven be where it be, but it's in an angel food cake pan. I furgot a springform pan iz da otter owan and used da wrong pan. It will be fine, duncha worry none." 

I turned the oven light on. There it was, this beautiful golden cheesecake with a funnel in the middle. It looked fine, so I didn't panic any more than I had already. 

"Uh, how do you put the ganache over that?" I wondered out loud.

"Not to worry," she said, shooing me out.

I wondered how she could mistake an angel food pan for a springform. Even I know the difference, and that's saying a lot. 

Well, she fretted most of the day, whispering to Tonya she wasn't sure the cheesecake would not fall to pieces, and maybe she should leave it in the pan. But then there is the ganache that goes over it, oh what to do, I tell ya! 

No matter what my wife suggested, she was still worried. Finally, when I was out of sight, they got the cheesecake, acting like two leprechauns up to no good. As Tonya used a knife to un-wedge the cake from the pan, Mam got a platter, actually two platters. With great care (I was spying from the lounge), Tonya upended the cake onto the platter, sliding gently onto the plate. At this, they looked at each other with big smiles and clapped their hands quietly. Then with equal care, Tonya took the other platter and turned the cheesecake right side up. And there you have it, a cheesecake with a hole in the middle!

Because Mam was flustered, she made her ganache a bit lumpy but poured it over the top anyway. There was a chocolate cookie crumb crust that held it together (miracles of miracles), so when I tasted the concoction, I thought it had too much chocolate. I will mention that if she serves this again from the right pan, she should not pour the ganache over the top but spoon a bit over the top when a piece is cut. No, I haven't told her that yet. Her feelings are all too raw at the moment. She is still muttering to herself about it.

The meal was a success in total. It was delicious. Here, take a gander, as they say in New England.

Making boozy Shamrock Shakes for the adults

Potato soup in the making, yum?

Mam's soda bread

Baked beans

Bangers and mash

And there it is -- Bailey cheesecake disaster, BUT it tasted good

Gabe

Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved

An Irish American St. Patrick's Day

 03 March 2024

1110

R. Linda:

It is almost THAT time again! Yes, when I can smell the potato soup bubbling on the stove, the baked beans in the oven, the Irish Stew getting savoury and me tastebuds are screaming, "Let's eat NOW!"

I can picture me sweet little apple-cheeked, grey-haired Mam kneading the soda bread, me wife busy with dessert a Bailey's Creme something if she doesn't drink it all first. The kiddos clambering about the forthcoming shamrock shakes and I am in dream heaven sipping what's good for me, a frothy Guinness stout. 

Ah yes, St. Paddy's Day be a-comin' and I am all anticipation. And why? Well, could be the fact I was invited last night to an Irish American pre-St. Patrick's Day dinner and it was not as Irish as I had hoped. I was looking forward to all me favourites I was, the soda bread, the Jameson shots, the bangers and mash, Colman's hot mustard, a whiskey cake, foods like that. But that's not what I was served, no indeed it was not.

Here let me start you at the beginning. As I said I was all hot to get to the dinner that was buffet style in a heated barn turned into a Martha Stewart living space at a neighbour's. Now this neighbour has an Irish last name, O'Bannon and says his great-great-great grandfather and grandmother were from Ireland. Where in Erin they are from no clue, he just knows from Ancestry. com it says on certain documents the names of his grandparents and born where: Ireland!

So he has been in this country, well let me correct that, he, was born in this country and is third generation American. WITH an Irish last name. His only knowledge of the old sod is St. Patrick's Day and he thinks everyone on the island celebrates it. Not so as you know. Up north not so much. He is sure he's from the Republic somewhere and has never been to Ireland, but he's from there. His family is, he's from here. I don't correct him, I just listen to the inaccuracies and let it all go. 

He thinks he can imitate me accent and oh my but he sounds like a Scotsman! I haven't the heart to tell him. So it was in the spirit of his Irish American heritage he decided to have a gathering of the clans. Yup, he called it that. I be sure the Goldsteins, the Browoski's, the Van Wycks, the Angelinos, and the Wongs are startled to know they are part of the Irish tribe. No more surprised than yours truly. 

It poured last night it did. We were wet, cold and hungry by the time we arrived. It was a perilous drive too, through mud roads (not all are paved), dark woods (no street lights, this is New Hampshire), and hardly any street signs to guide you in the dark, but somehow we made it sliding into the barnyard and almost hitting the Angelinos as they slip-slided in the mud trying to get to the barn through the deluge. 

Once inside and greeting everyone (we were the last to arrive, we always are fashionably late, not on purpose, but because the kiddos had a million questions as we were going out the door of what they could do and not do. The sillies know this is not necessary they live in the house and the rules haven't changed, but they get some bizarre joy at testing us, thus we are always late), I stood in front of the pot-bellied stove to warm up and was handed a shot of Jameson and that was divine. Good start I thought.

I wandered over to the chips and dip table and chatted away enjoying myself but me stomach was demanding more substantial fare. After a few more chips and sips we were all told dinner was on the table and to help ourselves. Oh boyo boy!

Off I flew and picked up a plate, the desired flatware, a napkin and then . . . and then . . . I looked at the offerings. A huge corned beef with lots of cabbage, French's yellow mustard, no Colman's, boiled potatoes and sourdough bread with Market Basket butter, no Kerrygold butter from the old sod, no it was the supermarket special and it was . . . gulp . . . unsalted. 

"What's the matter Gloomy Gus?" Tonya elbowed me giggling at my reaction.

"You know what," I whispered.

"They have Shepherd's Pie on the other side," she whispered back.

Well, ok then, off I went slapping on my plate a piece of sourdough bread, the supermarket butter, and as I rounded the table I saw the luscious mashed potentates smattered over the Shepherd's Pie and I grabbed the ladle and as I tore into it, I smelled beef! Yes, beef, no lamb it was COTTAGE PIE! Foiled again I was. I can't count how many times I've ordered Shepherd's Pie in an Irish American restaurant and been served Cottage Pie. I was beside meself I was. 

The Cottage Pie was filled with canned peas and carrots, not the real fresh peas and carrots I was used to. Thanks, Mam, you have spoiled me. Nothing fresh about this but I ate it. The seasoning was off but I rather expected that too. It tasted like hamburger with canned peas and carrots covered in mashed potatoes. Even the gravy was scant. 

Americans complain UK and Irish food is boring. Well, when you cook it American style it is. The problem too, is those who go on holiday stay at American tourist traps where the food is prepared American style for the American palate. So in reality Irish Americans just don't know what they are missing unless they go off the beaten track and dine at an authentic Irish restaurant, catering to Irish citizens. 

Oh one other thing, the beer. It wasn't Irish it was English, Newcastle Ale. I rest my case.

My face must have looked very sour when I was handed a bottle of that stuff because me wife came over smiling like a Cheshire Cat and muttered that it could be worse, the O'Bannon's could be serving Black and Tans. Yes, that would have done it. Gabriel then would have broken his silence and given the entire room a history lesson. But Gabriel, me, gave the Newcastle Ale to Morty Goldstein and got a shot of Jameson instead. Yes, the hard stuff R. Linda, I needed something stronger to dull the culinary pain of being subject to fake Irish food.

We have discussed this it's like Mexican food, you go to a Mexican restaurant thinking you are getting the best Mexico has to offer when it is a Mexican food chain prepared American style. I learned that lesson when I lived in California for that short time. I went to an authentic Mexican restaurant in Monterey and almost burned my throat, stomach and intestines out from the heat that was stuffed in an appetiser I can't remember the name of. Probably because I wanted to blur the experience, but I loved it. Then in Colorado after eating fake Mexican enchiladas in Estes Park, I found a real Mexican restaurant run by a Mexican family who brought each dish to the table with a warning on the heat of the peppers. Unlike the Monterey establishment that left me to burn alone without a glass of anything including water, the Colorado Springs restaurant served me a huge pitcher of water with lemons to cut the heat, and Sangria with coconut if I'd rather cut the peppers with alcohol -- they think all Irish are alcoholics. But at least liquid was on the table! And damn that food was good. Of course, I had weird dreams for six months after that's what spicy hot food does to me. 

I said nothing to the O'Bannon's I pretended to enjoy the cuisine and for that, I was told they thought they'd do it again next year. I have a year to figure out an excuse. Oh and don't ask about dessert, we all brought chocolate chip cookies when asked to bring a dessert. The reason I didn't bring an Irish dessert is the same reason I didn't enjoy myself because the American palate likes junk food and to make a Bailey's cheesecake and be told it was too alcoholic would have been a waste of Jameson whiskey and well . . . I'd rather drink it.

Gabe

Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved

Valentine's Day Gift Twist

14 February 2024

1109

R. Linda:

I came down this morning to dog poop everywhere. Not only that, BUT me Mam's new kitten decided that if the dog could poop anywhere it wanted, so could Mr. Kitten. I had six messes, which, when you add the cat, twelve in total to clean up. The dog's excuse was I went to bed early (I wasn't feeling well), and no one, and I mean no one, in the abode thought to let el doggy out before they retired. Therefore, what was he to do? As for that cat, I have no clue what his excuse was, but it might have looked fun? 

That's how I started the day. I told you about the tulip crisis prior, and I mentioned it to Mam and showed her the proof in pictures. She told me to return the week of Valentine's Day and check for fresh tulips. She was sure that was just a fluke. Righto!

No tulips, but something more remarkable Christmas in February. See here:

Yes, Christmas cypress plant for Valentine's Day with an ornament to boot! And Red Bull to drown out the yelling when you present it to the Valentine girl

OR:

Christmas cypress with snowmen -- your choice! Balloon thrown in to dull the pain your ears will be experiencing upon presentation

I was gobsmacked. So I bought her one with a snowman, and we'll see how big that goes over. 

Needing all the luck to stay alive tonight, 

Gabe

Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved

Valentine Tulips...a little dried out and way over their due date

04 February 2024

1108

R. Linda:

Well, I guess it's never too late to buy tulips. Yes, indeed. I was at the chemist to pick up some Valentine's Day chocolates and usually they run out if you don't buy early, and well one-stop shopping and all that appeals to this Irishman. So I ran in and got three small Valentine's chocolate hearts for the kiddos (small because chocolate wires them up and well . . . you get the picture), and two big ones for the wife and the Mam. I usually buy tulips for me Mam so she doesn't feel left out and the tulips sell fast so I get them early. I went to the front of the store where the tulips usually reside and what did I find? THIS: 

Long Life Tulips from 2018

Uhhh . . . Seriously? I had me pick of red or yellow. There were five nicely dried-out and dead plants to choose from for the price of $9.99 each (what a bargain, right?). The roots had water in the slot below which gave me pause. A couple of petals were dropped on the counter making me wonder how it was the others hadn't dropped all the petals after that amount of time. More importantly, why were they there in the first place? It is 2024, and these certainly looked like they were leftover from what the sign said 2018. Long life? I don't think so.

As you may guess I didn't buy one. Though I was tempted, I wasn't sure Mam would get the joke, instead, she might be chasing me around the house threatening to dump them on my head, so I refrained (hard as that was). I ended up buying none. She has a tulip garden and plants her Valentine's Day, Mother's Day and Easter tulips every year in the ever-expanding tulip garden. She isn't much for cut flowers, so I had been counting on early tulips. 

The florist is where I get roses for the wife, and I do that on THE day, her favourite, Valentine's Day. I will have to see if they have any planted tulips (usually they have the cut ones). If I am unable to find tulips with the bulbs I don't know what I will do. Perhaps a tulip IOU. Yes, that's the ticket. 

Anyway, I thought I'd share another mishap in the great state of New Hampshire. I tell ya, from dumpster diving to shooting your son's girlfriend, to locking the door from the police (and you only the babysitter), to dead tulips, it's never dull up here in snowman land. 

Gabe

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Trapped In Trash OR Accidental Dumpster Diving

30 January 2024

1107

R. Linda:

How is this possible? Just the other day, a woman fell into a trash bin, and subsequently, when the trash truck arrived, she and the trash she was surrounded with were unceremoniously dumped and then compacted 4 times before the trash truck driver heard screaming and looked at the camera that showed him a woman in the trash. I know, only in New Hampshire.

She said she fell into the dumpster while dumping her trash. Now, I've seen this happen on America's Funniest Videos (AFV) and know it can happen. Usually, the person can get out, but this was a dumpster, not a large, heavy-duty plastic trash bin. I surmise she didn't have the strength to lift herself out once she was in. The covers of dumpsters can be heavy, especially if there is wet snow on top, and I am assuming this may have been the reason she couldn't get out, but I am surmising here. 

The offending dumpster

If the side is open and not locked (I don't see locks anywhere), how is it she couldn't get out? Unless she's short like your diminutive self, she couldn't reach the opening on the side? Or, was she making merry and in her cups, so perhaps she was incapacitated in that way? I don't know the why of it, but that side window, well, is it that hard to slip out of? Or, like me wee one suggested, she was just keeping warm. OR, like the middle child suggested, she was looking for a meal? Uh-huh.

The driver had the presence of mind to call 911 when he saw through a camera located inside the truck the screaming victim. 

Slam Dunk!

Can you imagine being trapped in that smelly trash, then raised high in the air to tumble out with all that stinky stuff into more of it below? That be what nightmares are made from. Forget the compacting, adding insult to injury.

First responders arrived to extricate the woman from the garbage. They had to bring in a crane to get her out because, obviously, she was injured.

The ambulance was pulled up in front of the trash lorry

A basket gurney on the crane had to be lowered into the trash to retrieve her. 

How embarrassing is this?

The woman was taken to hospital, where she was treated for minor injuries and would be fine. Let's hope so, but think of the nightmares she'll have. OR, as the middle child suggested, think of the story she can tell her grandchildren on a snowy night in front of the fire. O K, then.

Gabe

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Christmas Mischief

25 January 2024

1106

R. Linda:

Christmas has been over, decorations put away, the credit card is recuperating, and all would seem right with the new year. However, there was one thing we couldn't find. We have (like many families) an elf on a shelf. Our elf is handmade by me sainted, little apple-cheeked, grey-haired Mam. It was just last week that Tonya remembered she hadn't seen the elf to be put up until next year's Christmas spying season. She asked me covertly if I had put him up. I did not put him up and yes, now that I thought about it, I hadn't seen him.

She asked Mam on the side if she had seen the elf. No, no she had not come to think about it. Hum. Well, we went to the attic and looked to make sure he wasn't up there because maybe Mam had a memory lapse (she is getting on) and perhaps he was up there and she just didn't remember. Nothing turned up that wasn't supposed to be there, but Mr. Elf On A Shelf was decidedly not among the ornaments.

This morning there was a delayed opening at school, so remembering the missing elf I asked each one separately if they had seen him. The eldest and the middle child know he is a decoration but the youngest thinks he really has a direct line to Santa. I knew the middle child, Guido had been throwing the elfster around (Elfster- Guido's name for him) so I was suspicious he had him hidden somewhere just to spring him on the wee one at Easter. Guid is a jokester if ever there was one. Well, no, Guido said, he hadn't seen him but thought the wee one was the last to be seen with the elfster.

I ran into O'Hare on his way to college (yes, can you believe it! The young kiddo graduated high school in January and has started college, so proud of him), and he said he didn't know anything about the elf's whereabouts.

That left the wee one, who denied any knowledge of the elf but had lots of ideas where he had gone. Like he returned with Santa on Christmas Eve to the North Pole, or, he got thrown out with the wrapping paper (oh, dread the thought), or he got tired of being a spy for Santa and retired. Un-huh.

Well, just an hour ago, Mam was getting a few canning jars to make some jam, when what did she come across? This:

Yes, the youngest jammed the elfster in a Mason Jar

Yes, way back on the deep dark shelves of the back pantry was this poor crushed elfster. The wee one was guilty of elfacide! The logic was if he's sealed in a jar he can't spy and blab to Santa what mischief the wee one is up to around the holidays. 

I tell ya, kiddos have ingenious methods to their madness. I'd never have thought to do such a thing. No, really I wouldn't. Well, maybe I would.

Gabe

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Something Gross Made Me Think What Kind Of World Do We Live In

20 January 2024

1105

R. Linda:

There are times you have not a thought in your head, but whatever that inner voice is babbling on about is all nonsense and you can feel the time is wasted with these self-conversations. That was my condition as I waited for me Mam to get out of her medical appointment. I had gone with her because she was a wee bit stressed. She needed a shoulder and I wanted to be it for her. She was stressed that the appointment would be bad news, and it turned out not to be. 

While I was sitting in the car waiting (the waiting room is usually packed so I opted out) I smelt rather than saw this man walk by me. He had a funny gait like his posterior hurt. I took a double-take because of the amount of faecal matter he was sporting on his behind. I could only think he was a homeless person who had no use for a loo or worse was denied one.  

I don't know his circumstances and if he doesn't mind his being down and out, or if he is in dire straits because of it. I do know this is a worldwide problem and I wish instead of funding war machines, we could help those of us who can't help themselves. Don't get me wrong I understand the funding of war in other places to keep the world safe, but is it as important as our own living on the edge of society in a hopeless mishmash of circumstances they can't control? 

I went home that day and instead of contributing to a candidate, I contributed to our local soup kitchen to at least keep the food coming for those who have none. This is a problem in many countries, not just this one. I do hope we get a candidate that gives a damn about us and not themself. I already know who I am voting for in the primary. I just hope that the official candidate is the one I have high hopes for. That person is smart, experienced and likeable. Their ideas for a new way forward are solid and they are steady in their determination to improve our lot. 

Anyway, I hadn't seen any homeless persons while out and about until Mam's appointment. There was another who was sitting on a bedspread by the side of the town library. I was stopped for the light and a policeman made his way over to the fellow. He had a bag from MacDonald's and a drink. These he handed to the man with what looked like a few words of encouragement, and I was wowed. What a solid gesture for a fellow man. Now I have seen a few more homeless on me way to the appointment and back, and I can imagine how tough it is. I had to stop to let one man with a wash bucket holding what I assume were his worldly belongs, cross. I wonder now if I had run up to that man if he would have accepted my help, or he might not have been receptive. So the best I can do is hope someone else helps him and others like him but I can do my part in any way I can. So my donation is a start. 

Gabe

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