Welcome to my humor blog where I offer my take on: Life - that crazy stuff that happens on the way to your dreams *** Liberty - to Snippet on any subject that pops into my brain *** and the Pursuit of Happiness - both yours and mine.

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Sunday, November 30, 2014

Survivor: Turkey

Congratulate me, folks. Like the 29 seasons of Survivor, I Outwitted, Outlasted, Outplayed and survived the curse of the Thanksgiving Holiday—cooking the big bird. OORAH!

Go ahead and scoff if you will, but how many women “of a certain age” can truthfully say they have NEVER roasted a turkey on Thanksgiving?  

I knew a woman once who tried to fake a sprained wrist by wrapping an ace bandage on her arm just before it was time to stuff the bird – but nobody bought her ploy. She was voted off the couch and forced to cook the entire dinner herself. 

When I was younger, avoiding the bird roasting was easier than earning a Survivor challenge reward. I just maneuvered to go to a relative’s house or away on vacation. When I was older, I got lucky and married someone who knew how to cook. But that’s when the game got tougher.

At first, Garth assumed the turkey task would be mine. However, he soon found out I would resort to devious manipulations to gain immunity from baking the bird.  

I Outwitted:
            Garth: “Isn’t it your year to make the turkey?”
            Me: “Nope - wrote it on the calendar - your turn.”
I Outlasted:
            Garth: “Isn’t it about time to get the bird in the oven?”
            Me: “Sorry, I have to watch the Twilight Zone marathon.”
I Outplayed:
            Garth: “I can’t cook the bird this year, I have a headache.”
            Me: “I have just the cure.”

If none of those arguments created a strong alliance, however, I pulled out the heavy artillery—my Scarlett silver bullet.

When the going gets tough, I morph into one of my Scarlett O’Hara routines. As you may recall from an earlier blog post on how I suffer from Scarlett Procrastination Syndrome, I rely on her tactics a lot.

Eyelashes a-flutter, I saunter over to Garth, and with my best Southern drawl, declare, “The preparation of such a large bird is just too, too difficult a task for poor, delicate li’l ole me. It takes a big strong man, such as yourself, to handle such an important and heavy responsibility.” 

Don’t ask me how it works, but it does. Guess it’s like finding the hidden immunity idol—you gotta know when to pull it out at the right time in order to save yourself. Now, when Garth brings up the subject every year, I just hold up a picture of Tara and he sulks off in defeat.

I think I’m getting pretty good at this. Maybe I should apply to be on the TV show. After all, I’ve been the sole survivor of the turkey tussle a lot longer than 29 seasons. I should be able to Outwit, Outlast and Outplay a few human turkeys with no problem—unless they ask me to eat bugs or something.  

Wonder what Scarlett would do to survive that tribal council?

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Get Stuffed!

Thanksgiving dinner is coming and you can keep the turkey. It’s one of those meats that keep on giving long after dinner is over—heartburn, gas, a tryptophan stupor that can turn anyone into an instant zombie. Stuffing, on the other hand, is the pièce de résistance

I tend to go old-school on my stuffing additives. You know—bacon, onion—the usual things Grandma put in the bird. I have been known to sneak in some diced apples or a few of the bagged parts, like the heart and liver. But fruit & guts didn’t play well in Poughkeepsi, as the saying goes.
So, I decided to search online for unique things people use to stuff their turkey’s carcass.  The Ideas I found were most enlightening …and entertaining. Of course, I want to share some with you—just in case you’d like to jazz things up a bit this year, too.

  • For the health conscious: Lose the bread and use quinoa or bulgur instead. Your stuffing will probably taste strange, but you won’t need Metamucil for
    a month.
  • For Italian food lovers: Just slip in some mozzarella cheese and chopped pepperoni for instant “pizza” stuffing. If you’re adventurous, drench with tomato sauce instead of gravy.
  • For an Asian twist: Use sticky rice and throw in some lap cheung, egg seasoned with oyster sauce, shiitakes, soy sauce, sugar and Shaoxing wine. I have no idea what lap cheung or Shaoxing is, but anything with wine in it can’t be all bad. 
Speaking of which, if you’re going to add dried fruit to your stuffing, “Martha Stewart Living” suggests pre-soaking them in bourbon first. I like the way Martha thinks. 

  • For a Chicago flair: What could be better than White Castle hamburger stuffing? You tear up one slider into small pieces (hold the pickles—you just want the beef, bread, and onions) for every one pound of turkey. (Note: they don’t call themsliders” for nothing). Do the math. If you’re making a 16lb. bird…need I say more? Those Chicagoans know how to eat!

  • For the snackaholic:  Jettison the bread and substitute Corn Chips or Popcorn. Sounds easy but words of caution—you need to soak the corn chips first (can you say soggy, oily mush?) and be sure the corn is pre-popped before you stuff the bird. Exploding turkey is not conducive to a festive family gathering. The biggest advantage to these additives, however, is it allows you to eat dinner, snack and watch the game all at the same time. 

  • For those with a sweet tooth:  Why not try “Twinkling Turkey”, a cornbread and Twinkie-based stuffing. You use 6 muffins and 6 Twinkies, sans filling. Don’t panic, you get to use the creme filling later by combining it with one-quarter cup of honey and brushing the mixture unto the turkey skin. Kinda fun, huh? You end up with a sticky turkey that rots your teeth.

I’m gonna keep searching for more ideas, none of these quite work for me…although the Twinkies are tempting. But I hope this has inspired you to get stuffed with style                        on Thursday. Because, after all, what completes                                    a holiday dinner better than a gallon of 
                                 Pepto Bismol for dessert?


Friday, November 14, 2014

Q-Tip Quick-Tip

The other day I was contorting through a routine at jazzercise class, looked down, and spotted a mangy Q-tip lying on the floor. I was mesmerized—yet horrified at the same time. My reaction was one of “journalistic” disgust.
 WHO threw the nasty Q-tip on the gymnasium floor? 
 WHAT detestable disease lay hidden between the fluffy folds of    cotton?
 WHEN will it ever be removed?
 WHERE can I go to get away from it? 
 WHY is the darn thing annoying me so much?
 HOW can I stay focused on the exercise combos when the odious   object continues to stare up at me in indignant defiance?
I contemplated picking it up and removing the offensive item myself — but what if it had been up someone’s nose? Eeewwww.
I signaled to the gal next to me, hoping she’d notice the threat that loomed below our feet and she would pick it up—look down, Linda –D-O-W-N! But she thought my waving arms and wild eyes were part of the exercise, and she totally ignored the little bugger.
I opted to dance around it for awhile—but ye Gods, what if it gets stuck to my shoe? I nearly sprained my ankle and dislocated some vertebrae trying to dodge that bullet.
I shot a look of quiet desperation in the instructor’s direction—help me, can’t you see the vile creature disrupting your routines?  Unfortunately, she was more concerned with my incongruous gyrations, than the need to help me rid the room of a threat the magnitude of the Ebola virus.
I tried to simply ignore the thing. Go away, go away!  Sweat poured from my body. Was it the exercising or the white monster? Go away, leave me alone! No use—my eyes were riveted to the ear-wax encrusted tidbit on the floor.
Then, at long last, class was over. I could finally rid myself of the filthy beast forever—but what if it’s still there tomorrow? The horror was too much to contemplate.
So let this be a lesson. Heed my quick tip. Next time you see a Q-tip lying on the ground, R-U-N, don’t walk to the nearest exit and never look back.
I promise—someday you’ll thank me. 

Thursday, November 6, 2014

What a Pain!

I’ve got a pain in my neck. No, not Garth (although sometimes …) I mean a real pain.  

Whenever I pounded the keyboard on the ole laptop, an agonizing pain in my arm would scream at me to S-T-O-P.  I tried to ignore it, but when my elbow locked in place at a 90º angle, and I couldn’t raise my arm higher than my right boob during Jazzercise class, I thought a little visit to the physical medicine doc might be in order. 

Okay, the arm pain never actually got that bad. But it ached enough to keep me tossing and turning all night (isn’t that a song?).  

Doc did a few arm-strength tests and when I almost pushed him across the room during one of them, he declared me pretty strong for someone “my age”. I inadvertently neglected to tell him I’ve been moving furniture around for fifteen years in my Redesign career and have the upper body strength of a Sumo wrestler. Ooops! 

Anyway, he declared that my neck was giving me the pain, not Garth or my arm, and referred me to an acupuncturist and physical therapist. Guess a prescription for Oxycodone administered with a whiskey chaser to dull the pain wasn’t in the cards.

So, I’ve been (mostly) doing the exercises (all two of them) and having a delightful time trying to re-program the way I sleep. I do this by eliminating a pillow and lying on my back in, what Garth calls, a “Cleopatra the Mummy” position. It’s kind of starting to work. 

That’s the latest scoop. Since the Snippets summer hiatus has now extended to almost Thanksgiving, I felt compelled fill you in on why my musings have been few and far between of late—just in case you missed me :) 

Ouch! My arm hurts now. Guess that means it’s time for another round of exercises. Sigh.

Hey, life’s tough when you’re a drama queen living with a pain in the neck.