Mrs. HM's Chex Mix: Soon To Be A Product Of The East Coast

I got a text from Genius around noon on Friday. Such a surprise, since he was JUST HERE! Sometimes he goes a month without communicating. Or more.

"Your Chex Mix is a big hit with our friends too. Can I get the recipe for it?"

"Eventually! Want it in the next letter, or an email later today?"

"An email later today would be great. One of our friends is asking for it."

"Do they have a big speckled roasting pan, or just the 9 x 13 metal cake pans?"

"I expect just the 9 x 13 cake pans. That's what we have and I suspect will be more common."

I had it sent within a couple hours.

"Got it!"

"Hope it turns out okay."

"I'll let you know if I hear anything about their attempt!"

"Okay. It takes years to become a Master Chexman!"

We'll see how they do. Probably wanting to make it for New Year's Eve snacks...

A New Bad Habit For Farmer H

Last week I became annoyed with Farmer H when he was trying to respond to my interrogations. How rude! He was chomping away at something while trying to talk. I was reminded of the restaurant scene in Miss Congeniality where Michael Caine tells Sandra Bullock, "I was distracted by the half-masticated cow rolling around in your wide-open trap."

"What are you eating? Just stop! Swallow it!"

"I ain't eatin' nothin'! It's gum."

"Eww. Why did you buy gum? You look ridiculous!"

"I didn't buy it. It was free."

"That's just what you need! MORE sugar!"

"It's sugar free. It's Dentyne."

Not sure where Farmer H got free gum. I was too astounded to ask. I had to look away while talking to him. I swear he puts that gum somewhere overnight and then chews it again. It's just a small pack, yet it seems to have 500 pieces! I wish it was gone.

A 68-year-old man chomping on gum is not an appealing sight.

The Exotic Breads Of Hillmomba

No! That wasn't clickbait! Just honoring a request from blog buddy River, who wanted to see the strange breads called "Hawaiian," and "Honey Wheat," which Farmer H bought for our Christmas ham sandwiches.

We shall start with the Hawaiian bread:

There are the slices we had left. Nothing remarkable about the appearance. The texture is very soft. It's a sweet-tasting bread.

Front label. It's a half loaf, because we usually don't eat a lot of bread around the Mansion.

Back label, in case you want to see nutritional information and ingredients.

This is a brand carried by Country Mart. When I buy Hawaiian bread, I usually get the most famous brand, King's Hawaiian. They have a wide variety of Hawaiians! Dinner rolls, pretzel rolls, mini sub rolls, sliced bread, hamburger buns, hot dog buns, slider buns that look like mini hamburger buns, and a round loaf that comes in an aluminum pie pan, suitable for hollowing out and putting dip or serving something else in a bread bowl.

Now for the Honey Wheat bread:

As you would imagine, the Honey Wheat has a courser texture than the Hawaiian bread. It's still soft, but a little more grainy from the wheat. If I concentrate, I get a hint of the honey flavor.

The front of the bag. For once we're going to finish it before the expiration date!

The back label. Tastes better than you would expect, after seeing that long list of preservatives!

There you have it, the exotic breads of Hillmomba!

Like Grandma, Like Pony

Not only was my mom known for her love of slaw, but around here she was known for leaving a trail. A trail of paper towels wherever she went. Almost like a trail of breadcrumbs through the forest. You could track her route by the crumpled paper towels. Technically, they were HALF paper towels. A half of an already-half called Select-A-Size.

Sometimes Mom used those paper towels to wick away her "glow." Or as most people would call it, SWEAT. Like when she didn't turn on her air conditioning until August. She liked to save money like that. Sometimes she used her half of a half paper towel for dabbing at her nose, which liked to run when she sat down to eat. 

Anyhoo... I used to tease her about leaving a trail, and she would backtrack and pick up her paper towels, once it was brought to her attention. It was just something she didn't think about.

THE PONY IS TURNING INTO HIS GRANDMA!

The Pony doesn't leave paper towels lying about all willy-nilly. He leaves paper plates!

Tuesday morning, The Pony came out to meet us for a ride to the casino. While we were gathering up our stuff, he helped himself to the last cookie on the cutting block. To be fair, The Pony is the one who baked the cookies, and brought them for dessert at Christmas Dinner. So he was entitled to eat the last one. What he WASN'T entitled to was LEAVING THE PAPER PLATE ON THE CUTTING BLOCK!

Who does that? Eats the last cookie off a plate, and leaves the plate right there, rather than turning and dropping it into the wastebasket less than two feet away!

But wait! That's not all! When we returned from the casino, The Pony came in to get some of his stuff he left on Christmas Day. Some Oberle Sausage and cheese that he'd brought, which we didn't have time to cut open, due to being full from the other food. A person on his route gave it to him. We put it in FRIG 2 unopened, to await its eventual reunion with The Pony.

The Pony added the sticks of sausage and cheese to the bag he was preparing, already containing some cheesecake and the box of crackers he'd brought. LEAVING THE PAPER PLATE IN FRIG 2 THAT HAD JUST HELD THE SAUSAGE AND CHEESE STICKS!

Of course I threw both paper plates away. I wish I had taken pictures, and sent them to The Pony, asking if he could tell what was amiss...

I'm Pretty Sure It Was Just An Attempt To Torture Me

Farmer H is early to bed, and early to rise. Until tonight. I was so mad! He went off and left that TV playing on HIS channel with Gunsmoke or some other western. I strongly dislike westerns. All the characters look and sound alike to me. PLUS the channel kept playing that annoying long commercial with Sarah McLachlan and the pitiful dogs.

Imagine my surprise when, at 10:48, I heard Farmer H say:

"I wish this show would hurry up and get over so I can go to bed!"

Sweet Gummi Mary! He was still up! That's unheard of! Turns out he was watching "The Gambler," a two-hour movie! It went off at 11:00. Yes. He DID change the channel before going to bed.

I don't know how he's going to get up at 6:00 as usual. He shorted himself about three-and-a-half hours of sleep!

I Think Something Might Be Wrong With Farmer H...

Sweet Gummi Mary! Something has gotten into that man! Farmer H has been totally unpredictable for two days! 

On Christmas Eve, I was sitting at the kitchen table putting sliced olives on top of my deviled eggs, when Farmer H chose to cut the ham. He chose to do it because I told him to, but he had known this was his duty before night fell. 

"You can put it in that flat container with the blue lid, the one we use for BBQ meat."

"Okay. Where is that?"

"In the corner cabinet. No. On the BOTTOM cabinets. Bottom shelf. Reach your hand in. You'll feel it there on top of the metal pans I use for the Chex Mix."

"This door is loose!"

"Uh huh. I've been telling you that for the last three years. Since before The Pony moved back from college. Even The Pony asked what was wrong with it."

"It has a bad hinge. Huh. The hings is LOOSE! I'll go get my screwdriver in the basement."

"You can use mine from my little toolbox in the laundry room."

"No. I'll go get mine. It's easier."

"I don't know how THAT is, when mine is just a few steps. A screwdriver is a screwdriver. But knock yourself out if you want to go down to the basement."

Which he did. Twice! To get that very special screwdriver, and then take it back. My corner cabinet door now works like it's new. I wish I knew the secret to making Farmer H discover that something is wrong, and fix it right then.

You won't believe what else he did! That's on my not-so-secret blog...

A Pony Predicament

The Pony awoke on Christmas Eve eve to discover that his water had frozen! Not the water in the kitchen or the second bedroom's bathroom, where Farmer H thought there might be a problem, and advised him to run the clothes dryer that vents under the house. It was his toilet in the master bathroom!

The shower was still fine, and the sink. So Farmer H didn't know if it was in the jetted bathtub, or the toilet line. He went over with a portable heater and stayed a few hours. Didn't get it thawed while The Pony was at work. But once home, The Pony said the bath was working.

"The only thing is, the toilet won't fill. I moved the heater over to the next accessible part of the pipe, where it goes up into the toilet. If that doesn't thaw it, worst case is it fixes itself next week when the temps go above freezing, and I just poop in the hall toilet."

So practical, our little Pony.

When The Pony ran a hot bath for soaking, after delivering mail in the frigid wasteland, he sent me a text:

"Toilet thawed halfway through the bath with an audible KCHUNK."

Farmer H says he will wrap the pipe in heat tape, and put louvered doors on the panels surrounding the jetted tub. To be fair, the rest of the house he was worried about had no problem. Just this northwest corner, with the below-zero temps and the northwest wind buffeting it at 35 mph. It's not our usual winter.

Anyhoo... The Pony is back to pooping in his toilet of choice... such a Christmas miracle for him!