Friday the 13th Eve and Then Some

It's important to look closely at the pitchfork and note that its duct-tape repair could use a little reinforcement. 

One of my Facebook friends just wrote about sandwiches filled with horse apples. 

Actually, I'm trying to be nice and not use the "S-word," as my parents used to refer to it whenever they heard it slipping from my tongue. 

Anyway, my friend says things aren't going so well these days, and she knows she'll develop character by rising out of the current challenges.    

She also adds we don't have to LIKE sandwiches filled with horse apples. 

Now, I can tell you that with the dogs, our dogs, at least,  that's another story.  

They LOVE horse apple sandwiches, so if someone throws our Border Collie Nation Plus One a sandwich oozing with fresh green horse apples, they'll run lickedy split to be the first to grab the goods.  

Then, there might be some growling going on, but the lucky pup will hold its own while devouring the contents. 

It's all perspective, I guess.  I wouldn't walk across the street to fetch a horse-apple sandwich, especially one of the figurative nature.

But I will tell you that those sandwiches manage to find me from time to time, just like they do with my Facebook friend.  And, I really don't like 'em any time that they disorder my best-laid plans.

So, let's talk about my current foot-long horse apple sandwich.  Well, it seems like it's that long cuz I've had to stomach a whole lot of it already on this Friday, the 13th, and it's not even 8 a.m.

Actually, it all started last night when I went to the barbecue grill on the deck to bring in my two pyrex pans full of the best cookies ever----recipe given to me by my friend Cherry.  They've got cream cheese, English toffee bits, pecans, caramel syrup and all the high-calorie trimmings. 

I spent most of yesterday afternoon mixing them up and baking them in the oven, working extra hard at the time to stand at least a foot away from the mixing bowl cuz I was listening to Christmas music while baking.

I have learned during the past few days that listening to Christmas music while doing anything Christmas related, i.e., baking, writing cards, etc., is NOT a great idea during the first Christmas season without one's mother. 

Flood gates fly open. Tears gush.  

Two sessions with the Christmas music have just about done me in.  Too many memories going back way too far, and that line "sleep in Heavenly peace" takes on whole new meaning from the time when I was a 4 or 5-year-old in my bed, hearing the music playing out in the living room where Mother was at last taking advantage of some peaceful moments to do her Christmas handiwork.

Enough said.  I'll probably go easy on seeking out Christmas music this year. 

Back to the cookies.  The directions said to let them cool before dousing them with caramel syrup.  So, I did.

Later, after bringing them inside and dousing away at adding an extra 3,000 calories to the rich mix, I started the process of removing the bar cookies from the pans.

No go!

Turns out I had not readjusted the oven rack to the proper level after turkey time a couple of weeks ago.  It was up higher, but still not high enough to save the bottom layer from turning black and sticking to the pan. 

So, I have a $25 batch of cookies with about two thirds still glued to the pyrex pans.  I was able to salvage some,  and they taste as Heavenly as they're supposed to---provided you don't get one with a black bottom.

After a sampling session, Debbie helped me carry the remaining slabs with petrified black bottoms back to the grill. 

Overnight, I came up with the plan.  Scoop all the good stuff from the base.  Chip the charcoal from the pans.  Wash.  Mix up a new foundation, spread the good stuff over it and move the oven rack upward. 

If I keep a close watch, I may be able to come out okay.  So, I announced that plan to Bill before heading to the barn for more unplanned fun. 

While sliding into my boots for the trip to the barn,  I noticed one sock was kinda wrinkled and uncomfortable at the heel.  So, I leaned over and pulled it up.  Well, the top half of the sock came and the bottom half stayed as I could hear "Ripppp!"  

There's nothing bugs me more than to wear socks with holes in the heels, especially in the winter time.  I went to the bathroom, found another sock, slipped into it and discovered a good-sized hole forming in its heel. 

Don't know if anyone out there has a sock drawer like mine, stuffed to the gills, but I can tell you searching for a sock in that mess can be challenging.  Finally, after pulling a giant wad of mismatched socks from the drawer, I found one with no holes forming. 

Off to the barn.  First job:  take hay out to the barnyard with the pitchfork.  On my last trip, the pitchfork tines separated from the handle, remaining stuck in the four flakes of hay I'd dropped on the ground. 

Took a while to yank that out.  Later, I went to the shed and found some more duct tape. The Marianne method for fixing things involves a lot of duct tape----unless she's baking $25 cookies, that is. 

After chores, I headed for the paperbox, ready to take on one of my favorite times of the day, reading my morning papers.  

"Ah, they're both here," I said to myself.  "I don't have to say that "S-word" today, as I had done TWICE this week when the Spokesman arrived long after paper-reading time.  

One of the days when it DID come on time, I read in the sports section that Kentucky won and lost men's basketball games on the same night.  I figured that if they had to do all that traveling across the country in one day, winning both games could be challenging.  

Never mind that it was Florida who beat Kansas--not Kentucky that night--and that Kentucky never left home to beat Boise State.   Proofreading!!!!

This morning, with both papers in hand, I grabbed my cup of coffee, spent my five minutes with the Daily Bee and then looked forward to significantly more reading in the Spokesman.  

Unless you want to read about all the movies and music events that are playing this weekend in the Inland Northwest, the paper failed to satisfy my morning desires.  

Two big fat feature sections, no news, no sports.  

Yes, Marianne, you will use the "S-word" this morning after all.   

And, yes, it is Friday, the 13. The day is young.  That foot-long horse apple sandwich may grow in length before day's end. 

Which brings me to the reminder that we North Idaho natives have always used when the going gets tough or frustrating:  we're resilient because we know a whole lot about horse-apple sandwiches, and we always seem find a way to digest them and survive with an  big smile. 

Happy Friday, the 13th.  Hope your day goes well.  I'm off to attempt a remodel on those $25 cookies!