MORE EXPLOSIONS

 

 

Those people who faithfully read my blog (all two of you) probably remember my post about the exploding biscuits. I'm talking about those inexpensive, easy-to-make cans of biscuit dough that you pop in the oven. I make them quite frequently.

The biscuit cans that I bought kept inexplicably exploding before I used them. Some of the cans were (slightly) out-dated, which I attributed to the volatile outbursts. 

SO - - -
I've lately been extremely cautious about out-dated cans. I check the dates carefully and use the biscuits before they expire.

All the cans in my refrigerator presently have late September (2021) expiration dates.

Imagine my surprise the other night when I heard a loud POW in the refrigerator. A can of biscuits exploded. A few hours later another can blew.

 

I generally don't scare easily, but these things are dangerous - and it's gotten to the point where I'm afraid to touch them.

I can't change brands, because the local supermarket here in Nowhereland only carries one brand (Save-a-Lot Supermarket only carries their brand of products - - there is no other choice - - it's kinda like living in the old Soviet Union). 

Thought about writing a letter to the company but I'm definitely not in the mood.

Thought about abstaining from cheap canned biscuits, but I'm a masochist.

There's no plausible resolution to this doughy tale of woe.

My life is presently an intricate network of perpetual unpleasantness -

ill health, mechanical malfunctions in the house, 15-foot-high "weeds" outside (NO exaggeration), wild animals nesting in the roof, mice, snakes, gnats, flies....I won't bother to mention the really bad stuff.

Am I complaining?
Naw, I'm singing a Happy Song. I'd get up and do a Happy Dance but my back hurts too much.

I desperately need to make an excursion to town. It was much too hot to go last week. Bringing frozen groceries home six zillion miles in a 250 degree car isn't a pleasant prospect.

This week there's been nothing but rain. Rain.
So I procrastinate. Repeatedly.
Maybe I'll go tomorrow. 

Rodents, anyone?

The mice finally got into my precious piano manuscripts. I couldn't believe it.

The cursed bastards have eaten through the Anton Rubinstein D minor Piano Concerto that I performed with orchestra in Los Angeles when I was twenty. 

Is nothing sacred?

 

Thank goodness I have two copies of this concerto.

This seems trivial to you.
It means a helluva lot to me.

Want some homemade wine, anyone?
And exploding biscuits.........??

 

Note:
The comment reply "thingie" isn't working on my blog, so I can't respond to your comments. I'll try again later.
This has happened several previous times.

POT ROASTS AND UNEXPECTED ANNOYANCES

 While I was heating a pot roast in my new slow-cooker, I decided to read the instructions that came with it (better late than never).
There was a list of twenty regulations, including this:

"Don't use this product if you have coordination difficulties" and
"Don't use this product unsupervised if you have a physical or mental incapacity."

Well, hell. That's strike three for me.

I swear I'm not making this up. It provided me with the best laugh of the day.

I bought my slow cooker and electric oven over a month ago (I think) but never used them because there's no room in my small kitchen.
I only recently found places to put them.

 

I painted an old bookcase and put the electric oven on it. And I squeezed the slow cooker onto the countertop near the stove.

The wall is two different colors because I painted the kitchen yellow but painted the adjacent room (where the dining room table is) another color. I should have just painted it all  one color but I wanted some variety.

I never used a slow cooker before and only guessed at what I was doing. I made a pot roast with potatoes, carrots, and onions. Added a cup of beef broth and heated it on high for five hours.

To my astonishment  it turned out great. The vegetables were perfect and the roast was tender and juicy. Problem is, I had lots of leftovers. I piled everything into a tray and put it in the fridge. It was easy to reheat it in the oven.

This is embarrassingly boring. I sound like an old hausfrau.

So, my pot roast adventure didn't impress you? Well, maybe this will.

Every time I make the dreaded trip to town I buy a lot of supplies and groceries. With my back back and the muddy, hilly terrain on my property, it takes a heckuva long time for me to drag the groceries inside. The 35 pound bags of cat litter are enough to kill me.

So, I always bring the perishable items in first, and take my time lugging in the other stuff.

When I got home from my most recent excursion to town, I (accidentally) left some items in the trunk of the car overnight - including a large bag of dry cat food and a box of donuts.

The next day when I went to retrieve the items in the car, I was literally stunned into oblivion. The box of donuts was ripped wide open and covered in MOUSE CRAP!! And the bag of cat food was chewed open and the contents were spilling out all over.

My question:
How the hell could mice get in the trunk of a car??? I never heard of such a thing. I'm not only shocked and disgusted - I'll never leave another food item in the car again.

I'm not exaggerating when I often say that this rural retreat where I live offers nothing but inconveniences,complications, and unpleasant situations.

Should I start putting mouse traps in the trunk of the car?

INTO MY DRAWERS

Apparently it's pretty easy to get into my drawers, but I think you already knew that.

Jon, why don't you move way out into the countryside - away from trouble and stress? It'll be fun!

That was me talking to myself a few years ago.

WHAM!
Ouch!
BAM!!
Ouch!!

That's the sound of me kicking my ass today. 
Question:
If an ass is kicked in the forest and nobody's there, does it still make a sound? (don't ponder that for too long - you might hear something).

All right. Let's cut to the chase.

It's no secret that I've been having problems with wild animals ever since I first moved here. 
Squirrels are in the roof. Unknown creatures are under the house.
I've had two (TWO - count 'em) 'possums inside the house (I've done blog posts about those adventures). 

And then there are mice.
My cat Scruffy deposited a dead mouse in my bed once. Right by my pillow.
A few nights ago Bosco killed a mouse and (thankfully) left it by the front door.

I grew apprehensive- to say the least- when I recently heard post-midnight scratching noises in one of my desks.
It's a small desk that my parents bought for me when I was about fourteen. I've kept it for sentimental reasons.

Yesterday, in the safety of daylight, I cautiously opened a drawer - already knowing what I was going to find.

Sure enough, there were not only mouse "droppings", but the little bastards had started eating some of my file folders!!!

mouse droppings in my drawers

That was only the first drawer. The others were far worse.

They even took sporadic shits on the Easter cards that I had planned to send to friends and relatives.

Trying to look at the bright side (hahahaha), I said
"Well, at least they didn't urinate in the drawers."

That was right before I opened the lower drawer and was greeted by an odious puddle of rodent piss.

When they weren't crapping and peeing, they were obviously stockpiling cat food.

Various bits of dry cat food

They gnawed the tail off this old mechanical Easter chick, which I bought a few years ago for the cats to play with. You wind it up and it hops along the floor.

They also emptied this basket of California seashells and used it for a nest!!! I cleaned the basket and salvaged the shells.

I had initially reserved Saturday afternoon for working on some long-neglected important projects. Instead, I had to spend hours cleaning and disinfecting the desk. And I was forced to throw out many of the things that were in the drawers.

Fortunately, the mice had peed on some thick cardboard instead on the desk drawer itself. Thank God for small favors. No permanent stains.

Here's the last laugh.

In one of the drawers I found this box of Chinese stress balls.

They are a pair of silver balls that you place in the palm of your hand to relieve stress. When you move them around they make a soothing, vibrating sound.

So, here I am -

devising ways to kill the mice....

and playing with my balls.

Note: the Oscar post on my sidebar was written last year.

DISTANT DAYS, AND CRITTERS

Somehow  the days seem distant, lingering on the edge of an indistinct reality - somewhere beyond the trees, in the shadows of the mountain.

Late at night, in the abstract solace after midnight, thick fog creeps in and lingers until mid-morning. In the pinkish haze of a December dawn the fog casts illusions of drifting light outside my bedroom window. I lie in bed half-awake, watching the subtle colors of mists tinted by an unseen rising sun: ever-changing pastels of faded peach and blushing coral, pulsing over the landscape like the warm remembrance of a long-ago lover's kiss.

Holy crap, Jon - you're too damn good to be wasting your time writing in a blog.

These are only rank preliminaries, Kemo Sabe. I'm saving the good stuff for future endeavors. 

The days are annoyingly short. Dawn arrives somewhere around 7:00 and by 3:00 the distant sun is already sinking behind mountain peaks. Daylight disappears before 4:30.

Temperatures have turned mild again - near 60 during the day (that's Fahrenheit). The nights are chilly.

 Taken at 3:00 p.m. this afternoon. The sun is WAY south.....

Last night around 2:00 a.m. I opened the back door and my eldest feline Scratch darted out. I've been letting her wander outside during the day but never at night. She leaped (leapt?) off the back porch and came face to face with a large 'possum.
(I prefer to call it an opossum, but - what the hell - I'm in the wilds of Hickville).

This is the 'possum that resides under my back porch - - and it's the same 'possum that got into my house once through the clothes dryer vent.

My resident 'possum seems to be mild-mannered but he's a lot bigger than Scratch and has much sharper teeth. A close encounter could get very ugly.

I yell for Scratch to come in. She goes under the porch. Brilliant idea. If the 'possum goes under there, a brawl could ensue.

So, I keep Mr. 'Possum at bay with a broom until Scratch decides to finally come out and go back into the house.
This kills the better part of an hour.

I managed to snap a few pics of Poss.

    He's not demonic. The glowing eyes are from the camera flash. Here's the same picture lightened:

Wanna hear more wilderness adventures?

Sure, why not, Jon? You're irresistible. 

Today I brought in some plastic storage drawers that I had in the garage. They were securely shut and sealed with masking tape. 
Two of the drawers contained a large array of packaged seeds that I was going to plant next spring.
The other drawer contained some bars of soap.

Something - undoubtedly mice - managed to get into the sealed drawers. They ripped open the packets and ate all (and I mean ALL) of the seeds....
AND
they ate most of the soap!!!
Holy shit, I couldn't make this stuff up.

The only thing left was shredded paper from the seed packages.

  I had all the packets neatly placed in rows. This is what I found.

 Shredded paper - not a seed in sight.


You gotta see my new Creepy Claus post at this link:
Cabinet of Curious Treasures