Maladjusted Mondays, Week 10

NOT Linda.

Greetings! I’m Janice Johnson. Thanks for joining the fun here on Maladjusted Mondays. This series is a collection of scathing exposés in which I rat out my uncooperative appliances. (Thanks to Linda for hosting me!) I originally published these posts on my blog, Joywriting: Everybody Has a Story, where I do occasionally write about something besides my appliances. You can visit me there any time by clicking here.

And now for the tenth post in the series, which first appeared on my blog February 27, 2017.

Protein Shaken, Part 1

Seriously, I still can’t find an honest appliance anywhere. And if they’d only cooperate, I could really use their help with my fitness goals.

See, I don’t mind being kind of matronly, but I don’t want to overdo it. So not only do I exercise, but I also try to go easy on my beloved carbs and take in more protein instead. I rely on my bullet blender for a smooth protein shake.

img_7002Protein shake powder? Great. Especially in chocolate.

Recloseable press-and-seal zipper bag? Wonderful.

Zipping the bag closed while standing right next to a bullet-blender cup full of protein powder, ice, and water?
Not cool.

One night I was fixing a shake and had set the ice-and-water-filled blender cup on my postal scale to measure the powder.

Turns out, the postal scale and the bullet blender are in cahoots.

Gripping one end of the bag with my left hand, I used my right to pinch the zipper closed. I did this by getting it started and then squeezing while pulling my right hand across the top, away from my left. Everything was fine until somehow my right hand slipped off the shiny bag.

The sudden release caused me to backhand the plastic blender cup right off the scale. It arced through the air, slammed into the side of the fridge, bounced off, landed on its feet on the countertop… and fell over backward from surprise. The cold, blackish-brown, sloshy, powdery contents were running off the edge of the counter and dribbling down behind the refrigerator before I could finish pointlessly yelling “NOOOOOOOooooo!”

I sighed and set the nearly-empty blender cup back on its feet.

Clearly, I had some mopping up to do.

A pain in the neck, but at least mopping is simple enough…. right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next time: Part 2, in which even the refrigerator joins in the mutiny…

Thanks for reading,

Jan

Advertisements

Peace In Wartime

Guilty!  I’ve stolen a Talking Heads song title, but it seemed so apt.

Dreadful photo, but I think it’s enough to show that the two combatants have reached a detente.  Like any war, the fighting could erupt at any time.  But for now, I am pleased there is peace.

 

IMG_5916

Thank you all for your kind words as I work through this situation.  Who would have guessed that we would go from perfection to horror in such a short span of time?  This is a story that will unfold in the fullness of time, I am sure.  In the meantime, I am still finding blood in the most unusual places!

Just Ask Me…

Yeah, just ask me how happy this makes me.  Just try it.  I dare ya!

 

Event:

Freeze Warning

Alert:

…LATE SEASON COLD EXPECTED TONIGHT…

.Arctic high pressure will slide across Maine today, bringing a very dry and cool air mass. With light winds and clear skies tonight, expect temperatures to drop into the low 30s across much of the coastal plain of Maine, creating the potential for frost.

Freezing temperatures are possible especially in interior valley locations.

…FREEZE WARNING REMAINS IN EFFECT FROM 10 PM THIS EVENING TO 9 AM EDT SATURDAY…

* Temperatures…In the mid 20s to lower 30s.

* Timing…Late tonight into Saturday morning.

* Impacts…Freezing temperatures will be harmful for sensitive vegetation.

Instructions:

A Freeze Warning means sub-freezing temperatures are imminent or highly likely. These conditions will kill crops and other sensitive vegetation.

Target Area:

Southern Franklin

Southern Oxford

Southern Somerset

Bloodlines

Remember when I said I was going to get a female Great Dane to go along with Walter, my male Dane?  Remember when I said that would mean less swaggering about with doggy testosterone and there would be peace in all of my canine kingdom?  Yeah, I remember saying that, too.  I was an idiot.

Everyone told me that females always rule the roost and Walter would be happy to give in to the wishes of his new sister.  They were wrong.  Walter is not happy letting Greta do whatever she wants to do.  He’s not happy at all.  If on a whim she decides to drift over to his food bowl, he will snarl.  He’s always been somewhat food aggressive and I was always careful to feed them separately so there wouldn’t be any arguing.

Tonight, I don’t even know what they were fighting over, an errant piece of kibble maybe.  All I know is that I heard vicious fighting and as I flew into the kitchen I saw Walter backed into the bathroom with Greta going after him with murder in her eyes.  I got in between them and shooed Walter away.  That’s when I saw the blood.  LOTS of blood.  Blood spattered all over the bathroom walls.  Blood dripping from the toilet and smeared on the door.  Big splotches of blood on the floor.  At this point, I wasn’t sure who was bleeding and what body part had been torn off, but as I followed Greta out to the kitchen, she brushed against the white refrigerator and it looked like some macabre abstract painting.

I was steeling myself for the worst.  I mean it was a LOT of blood.  One personality trait of mine that you may not know is that I am extremely calm under pressure.  I do what needs to be done at the moment and I fall apart later.  This was one of those times.

Greta seemed to be oblivious to the fact that she was seeping her actual life’s blood all over creation.  This was a good sign.  Not the blood-seeping, but her obvious state of oblivion.  She wasn’t dead and she was moving; both good things.  She was headed to the couch for a snooze.  Nope, don’t think so.  I aborted that mission and finally corraled her back in the bathroom and looked for what had to be a gaping wound of some sort or other.  I saw the steady drip, drip of the blood on the floor and looked up to find the source.  Walter had bitten off the very tip of her ear and she was bleeding like she’d had major surgery!

I stemmed the flow of blood as she acted like nothing happened.  Her nonchalance was a little disconcerting.  It was then that I looked at her and just sobbed.  Here we were getting a rescue dog to give her a good home and this was the second time in a week that she’d had an ear bite.  Walter broke her and it was on my watch!

Last week when she had a puncture wound in her other ear I was furious that Walter would do such a thing!  I hadn’t seen the altercation, but I could imagine what happened.  I was upset that she didn’t back down and ended up with a couple of stitches.  But it was even more disturbing to know that he could be dangerous as far as she was concerned.

Once I stopped my sobbing fit and had a minute to think about it, I realized I owed Walter an apology.  I probably would have bitten her, too!   If she had me cornered in a bathroom snarling and lunging, I wouldn’t have been gentle either!  As much as I was horrified by the ear bite, it occurred to me that it could have been SO much worse.  It was his warning shot and she still didn’t back away.  Not good.  However, I was really happy that Walter was not the aggressor.  I’m sure it was over a piece of food and he probably snarled at her, but she was the one who went in for the kill.  Walter was cornered and defending himself.

Now I’ve gone from sobbing to sighing.  Over the last few days, sweet little Greta has shown a different side to her personality.  Maybe she was a warrior princess in a previous life.  Whatever the reason may be, she is a scrapper!

By the time they figure out their dominance issues she’s going to look like a junkyard dog and I’m going to be more of a basket case than I am already.   At least I know that her injuries are the result of her own ill-conceived actions.  I guess that makes me feel a little better.  After all was said and done, and I let the two of them see each other, Walter went up to Greta and licked her face.  He then went to his toy bin and brought his favorite toy to her.  Knowing what I know now, I almost felt bad for him.

It is such a joy when I see them playing together, and I know they get along great most of the time.  I also know they will continue to test each other’s limits until they figure out the pecking order.  I now have my work cut out for me to make sure they get through this process with as little bloodshed as possible.

In the meantime, does anyone know how to get blood out of every surface known to mankind?  If not, I’m going to have to start a GoFundMe account to hire one of those services that specialize in cleaning up murder scenes.  This wasn’t a murder, but if blood spatter is any indication, it sure looked like one!

 

Guest in Jest and Weekly Request

Please join us tomorrow today!

This week’s  “Guest in Jest” guest is  OVER THE HILL ON THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD

 

Here is my shameless begging.  I’ll add a little pleading if it will help.  I will add larger fonts to grab attention.  REALLY large fonts…to the point of obnoxiousness!  Perhaps a bit of color will make a difference.   

 

Join us in our Guest of Jest series

 

Please submit your guest posts to mainepaperpusher@yahoo.com and they will be published in order of submission every Friday here at Everyone Else Has the Best Titles

 

Here are the rules:

Give us some info about your blog.  Make sure to add a link to it.

Write up something amusing.  It doesn’t have to be “laugh out loud” funny, but a bit of humor would be great.

Pictures optional, but encouraged.

The post can be one that has been posted before.

Multiple submissions are encouraged!

The piece can be anything that is humorous.  A story, a recollection, even something as simple as a joke.

 

C’mon, you know you want to!  Why should we have all the fun?

 

The featured image was created by Silas at  My weird, crazy and mundane life Journal 

 

Greta Thinks She’s A Labrador Retriever

Remember when you were first in love and the idea of taking a shower together seemed like such a romantic thing to do?  That is until you realized that only one person could get under the shower head at a time.  Plus, there really wasn’t enough room and soapy elbows polked soapy “insert your favorite body part here.”  Ever since I came to that realization I have had wonderful, solitary showers…until now.

You know that moment when you’re just starting to rinse the shampoo out of your hair and your eyes are closed and you suddenly get licked on the tush?  Oh?  You don’t get licked on the tush in the shower?  I never have, either…until we got Greta.  Let me tell you, that is one weird sensation when you aren’t expecting it!  At least she wasn’t coming after me with a knife “Psycho” style.  Though I think the yelp of surprise that came out of me would have made Hitchcock proud!

Greta loves water.  I’ve never seen anything like this in a Great Dane before.  Danes drink water out of a bowl.  On a hot day, they might walk into the lake and get their legs wet.  This is how a Great Dane should act.  Great Danes are not water-loving dogs.  Danes are not Labradors!  Apparently, Greta never got the memo.  Apparently, Greta thinks she’s a Labrador Retriever.  So far she’s only licked me, but if she tries to retrieve me, we’re both in for a surprise!

Anyhow, back to the shower situation.  After trying repeatedly to keep her head from poking around the shower curtain, I finally pulled the curtain around so she couldn’t get to me.  I figured she’d get tired of being thwarted in her tush-licking endeavor and go away.  That’s when I heard the noise.  She was climbing into the tub!  It was my turn to peek around the shower curtain and sure enough, her two front legs were in and she was just about to climb in completely when I stopped her!  I’m too old to share a shower, especially if my shower buddy is a Great Dane who thinks she’s a Labrador!

IMG_0037.jpg

 

Maladjusted Mondays, Week 9

NOT Linda.

Greetings! I’m Janice Johnson. Thanks for joining the fun here on Maladjusted Mondays. This series is a collection of scathing exposés in which I rat out my uncooperative appliances. (Thanks to Linda for hosting me!) I originally published these posts on my blog, Joywriting: Everybody Has a Story, where I do occasionally write about something besides my appliances. You can visit me there any time by clicking here.

And now for the ninth post in the series, which first appeared on my blog February 20, 2017.

Kitchen(Aid) Mix-up (The mixer)

slappyAfter years getting along with just a hand-held mixer for all my baking, I finally bought a Kitchen Aid stand mixer. One great thing about my old Oster stand mixer–it had that turntable thing that lets the bowl spin around so you can scrape down the sides with a spatula while the double beaters do their job off to one side. I’m still getting used to the fixed-position bowl and the wacky single “tilt-a-whirl” beater that pirouettes around, slapping against the ingredients. And as you may know, I’ve become rather suspicious of my appliances anyway.

So when the time came to bake cookies for friends who were coming over, I plugged in the mixer with some anxiety. Creaming the butter and sugars went well, however.

It’s no surprise that I got cocky.

I decided I could crack the eggs into the bowl while the mixer was running…

I did okay with the first egg, but managed to drop half the second one’s shell into the dough. Before I could react, Slappy the Beater had twirled through half a dozen revolutions, shoving ever-smaller pieces of eggshell into the soft dough.

News Flash: There is no way on earth to find all the fragments of eggshell in a bowl of slippery butter-and-sugar mix.

Ever the optimist, Brent said, “You got most of it, though, didn’t you?”

“How would I know?” I said, up to my wrists in dough. “Aaack–there’s another piece. I can’t serve crunchy chocolate chip cookies! I’ll have to start over!”cookies

And so I did. This time, before cracking each egg, I cut the motor and propped that beater up out of the way.

The cookies were delicious.

And I am now on guard against Slappy the Beater.

Thanks for reading,
Jan

What Else Are You Hiding From Me?

A couple of days ago, Bill and I were riding in the car and he nonchalantly mentioned that the pants he was wearing were 30 years old.  This elicited a number of emotions on my part:

  1.  How did these pants escape the Great Closet Purge of 1988?
  2. Why were these pants in tolerable shape after 30 years?
  3. What other clothing from previous decades might he be hiding from me?
  4. How on earth could he still be able to wear clothing that he wore 30 years ago?
  5. Did he have even an inkling what turn our conversation was going to take?

Ok, I admit that probably wasn’t exactly the order in which I thought those things.  There were a few eye rolls in there and a bit of self-loathing, too.  I couldn’t fit a leg into a skirt I wore thirty years ago.

In order to abate my weight-related introspection, I turned my attention back to Bill and his ability to hide ancient clothing from me.  It went something like this:

Me:  “Where did these come from?”

Bill:  “I bought them in Dexter in July of 1988 on the way to Joe’s camp party.

Me:  “That is not what I meant and you know it!  Where have you been hiding them all these years?”

Bill:  “Ummm”

Me: “Do you have any other ancient articles of clothing hanging about or are these pants it?”

Bill:  “Ummm”

Me:  “Spill it, what else do you have lurking in the back of your closet!”

Bill:  “I got rid of that wool brown and white jacket that I wore in high school that you hated so much.”  He said this rather hoping it would divert my attention to something he actually got rid of that I loathed.  It didn’t work.

Me:  “That was NOT my question.  But it’s good you did that because we’d be having a bonfire otherwise.  What else?”

Bill:  “Ummm”

Me:  “Don’t tell me you have that plaid shirt that I can literally see through!”

Bill:  “Ummm”

Me:  “Where is it?”

Bill:  “I got that shirt in 1978 when I was a junior in high school and I’m not ready to give it up.  It has sentimental meaning to me.  Besides, it’s a PERFECT mowing shirt.

Me:  “That was 40 years ago!  Why is it that any old piece of clothing is the “perfect” mowing attire?  You have four pairs of “perfect” mowing shoes that are coming apart at the seams!  You have a t-shirt that has more holes than fabric.  It is not a good sign when you have to wear sunscreen UNDER your shirt.  You are always saying you need more closet space for your sports gear.  Maybe if we weed out some of your decades-old “mowing” clothes we can make some room.”

Bill flattened himself against the closet door protecting the contents held within.  Why is it I think he has a pair of bellbottoms in there?  Maybe they are “perfect” mowing bellbottoms.  Worse yet, they probably still fit him!

 

Guest in Jest #44 The Arty Plantsman

Summer 1988.

My wife Susan and I had been married just over a year. We lived next door to her parents (I know, believe me, I know…).

I was working shifts and often at home during the day. Susan was working standard days and usually out. Susan’s best friend Lynne would often pop in for a coffee with me when walking her dog. Susan’s mum had (unfounded) suspicions about this…

On this occasion, the sun was shining so we had our coffee sitting on the lawn out back. We could hear Susan’s parents chatting as they worked in their garden on the other side of the tall hedge.

After a little while Lynne’s dog, Jess, got bored of all this sitting around and started to mess around. Resulting in Lynne screaming at the top of her voice:

“GET YOUR TONGUE OUT OF MY EAR!”

Next door went totally silent……….

 

A few weeks later:

Another coffee visit. Susan arrives just after Lynne has gone. Susan’s mum makes a point of telling her this on the doorstep. Susan comes into the house to discover me in the bedroom pulling my trousers on…

There is actually a perfectly innocent explanation for this – can anyone guess what it is in the comments?

Guest in Jest and Weekly Request

Please join us tomorrow…

This week’s  “Guest in Jest” guest is

The Arty Plantsman

 

Usually, I start my shameless begging here but some folks wondered if it was just a bit of boilerplate I put in each post for fun. It’s not!  I truly need a steady stream of submissions to make this series work.  Right now we are ok for a few weeks but if this series is going to continue, submissions have to keep coming!

Back to my shameless begging.  I’ll put a little pleading in, if it will help.  I will add larger fonts to grab attention.  REALLY large fonts…to the point of obnoxiousness!  Perhaps a bit of color will make a difference.  How about a LOT of colors?

Join us in our Guest of Jest series

 

Please submit your guest posts to mainepaperpusher@yahoo.com and they will be published in order of submission every Friday here at Everyone Else Has the Best Titles

 

Here are the rules:

Give us some info about your blog.  Make sure to add a link to it.

Write up something amusing.  It doesn’t have to be “laugh out loud” funny, but a bit of humor would be great.

Pictures optional, but encouraged.

The post can be one that has been posted before.

Multiple submissions are encouraged!

The piece can be anything that is humorous.  A story, a recollection, even something as simple as a joke.

C’mon, you know you want to!  Why should we have all the fun?

 

The featured image was created by Silas at  My weird, crazy and mundane life Journal