Who Are These People?

Have you ever spent time with your adult children and wondered, Who are these people?

Are these the people I raised? Yes, they are. Despite your efforts to instill manners, neatness, and teamwork, it didn’t take hold.

When they were growing up, they pretended to listen and obey. Now that you are no longer “the boss of them,” they conveniently forget and revert to the teenagers who lived with you at one time. You remember the sullen, scowling ones? Never happy? Always hungry? Not speaking to you?

Now, they occasionally do speak to you – when they want something. Their faces reflect better moods than they used to. They seem to enjoy being at your house. In fact, they make themselves right at home. They descend upon the fridge and cram stuff they brought in there. The kitchen counter is now covered with snacks, sweets, and dips. I tell myself to shut up about the fact that I have no counter space to use, and enjoy the fact that they are finally sharing.

Their children (your grandchildren) are also here. Their messes and trash are different from those of their parents, but they increase the general chaos by forty percent, and the volume by seventy percent. Somebody wants to watch SpongeBob, but the others want to watch Star Wars. Grandpa and I want to turn the TV off. They don’t need a TV. Each one has a phone, they can play apps, watch shows, and Google things.

With the youngsters’ content, I notice that the older kids have ADHD. While they play a card game, they commandeer my Alexa Dot and make her play odd songs – loudly. Someone decided to mess with the device’s programming, and now Alexa signed me up to buy music. Someone else is playing music from their phone at competing decibels. I would send everyone to their rooms, but we only have 2 guest rooms and 12 people.

It’s me who needs a time-out. The older I get, the more claustrophobic I am when it comes to noises, a lot of people, and clutter. Looking back to my younger days, I realize I have always been this way. It just gets to my nerves sooner now. It explains a lot about why old people are cranky.

Wanting to run away from home feels so wrong. I love each and every kid and their families. I look forward to their visits, and although I barely tolerate the chaos, I really do want them around. I miss them when they are not here. That being said, hubby and I are so used to being just us in our house. Us and, of course, our dog, Ziva. Our lives are quiet, with the occasional exception.

I can’t sneak out of here because my car is in the garage and blocked by other people’s trucks, Jeeps, and a patrol car. Where would I go anyway? It is dark now, and nothing is open. I am not supposed to be driving at night, so there is that. We also do not go for walks when it is dark. Our neighborhood is DARK. There are no street lights. And nocturnal creatures come out of the forest at night. Some are very BIG.

I realize my options for calming down are a hot shower and winter pajamas. I feel better just thinking about this. As for the noise, I remember I have earplugs. I wish I had thought of this sooner…

TTFN

Taming of the Shrew (or not)

It all started when I took Ziva for a walk this morning. Actually, it was a case of her dragging me down the street. Crap! I said to myself, we need to start all over!  She and I were making good progress before I had dental work and was out of commission. Now she just wants to run and sniff everything. She refuses to focus on me and insists on doing her own route. It took every ounce of strength I have to keep my feet under me.

I needed to put an end to her misbehavior ASAP. It was time to whip out my secret weapon that makes even the most ADHD afflicted puppy focus and do what they are supposed to do.

Liver Treats.

These little goodies are super easy to create. You put only 4 ingredients into your food processor, blend well, and spread into a greased cookie sheet and bake @ 400F for 15 minutes. Piece of cake? Of course not – we are talking about me, remember?

First of all, a pound of chicken livers – frozen, needed to be thawed. While the container sat in lukewarm water I prepared the other ingredients, assembled my food processor, worked on a crochet project. Hubby was working with the Sheriff’s Dept all day, but it was afternoon and I was in a hurry. Hot water worked much faster.

I forgot there was so much blood in livers. I knew if I poured the little blood-sacks out of the round container, into my processor, blood would spill out and splatter the counter & myself. So I got a big fork and stabbed and shook the livers off the fork , well inside of the processor’s vessel. I felt so proud for not making a mess!

At this point I thought the worst was over. HA! What an idiot I can be. The recipe was easy, but the gross factor was over-the-top. Imagine livers, blood, flour, corn meal, and milk, in a blender. Yuck, is right. When I thought everything was mixed well, I got a spatula and began pouring the “batter” into the greased cookie sheet.

The bloody mess did not pour. It was so sticky that I ended up putting on disposable plastic gloves to scrape it off the sides and spindle of the processor, clean off the useless spatula, and smash the stuff into the pan using my palms. It was not pretty.

Looks Like Crap and Smells Worse
Looks Like Crap and Smells Worse

After (very carefully) removing the gloves outside in, I put the pan into the pre-heated oven and set the timer. Now I could get off my feet for 15 minutes and rest, I so stupidly thought.

After 7 minutes into the bake cycle had passed, a hideous odor began to take over the household air. Oh man! I jumped up out of my recliner and turned the fan over the stove on the 2nd level. The first level is all we use because it is loud, but not like an airplane engine that #2 setting sounds like. Level #3, if you’re interested, has been likened to the Space Shuttle launches.

The noise woke up the puppy, and you could read her expression as it went from “Oh, what is that scary noise?” to “WHAT IS THAT WONDERFUL SMELL??”  She bounced all over the kitchen with her snout high in the air, taking deep breaths and drooling.

I was going from room to room, opening windows and turning on ceiling fans. Going out to the garage for something, then re-entering the house, was like walking into a wall of crap. Skunks all over the county were jealous of this heavy and cloying stench emitting from my kitchen.

Then I remembered the Christmas presents I got last year. At the time I thought “how will I ever use up all these huge scented candles?” I now knew the answer. As I lit a candle I would put it somewhere in the kitchen and family room area. Now puppy had a mix of candle scents and liver to sniff and don’t forget the airplane engine over the stove. Both of us were nearing our breaking points when I turned off the oven and switched the fan to level #1.

#1 was only on for the 20 seconds it took for me to open oven, remove pan, and sit pan on stove, close oven door. #2 fan was reinstated, as lessened smell became my top priority – replacing quiet.  Puppy was not happy about this, but she braved the scary noise for her priority – LIVER. She ran circles in the family room, then suddenly stopped, running into the kitchen to circle me, whining, then run back to the couch and start over again. I was torturing my poor baby!

Again, I mistakenly thought the worst was over.

Recipe said to let “it” cool, then cut into small squares.

CUT?  With what, a jackhammer!?  I had to resort to a butter knife and attack from underneath to get only the top layer.

ShreddedLiver

The knife and the spatula I used are permanently bent. The “treats” were in no way squares, they reminded me of wood-chips – except for the smell.  At least the cooler they got, the less they smelled.

An hour later, which made a 2-hour adventure so far, I called time. I was done. I wanted to throw the ‘livered’ cookie sheet away, but I’m just too practical for that, so I scrubbed and soaked every 10 minutes. The extra soapy dish water, if you are wondering, made the stench return. I know I have new wrinkles from scrunching my face up.

Hubby got home an hour later and asked me if Ziva and I had a séance while he was gone. Candles were still all over the house.

I could not wait to try the treats on our walk this morning. I’m sad to report that even these tried and true treats (that worked well with our former puppy) did not focus Ziva’s attention at all. We did not even make it out of the driveway pleasantly, and she knew I had LIVER!

So, here we come in the front door – Ziva’s is happily wagging her tail and greets hubby. I am in the midst of an asthma attack (forgot to use inhaler before we left) and tears are streaming down my face. ” I can’t even take my dog for a walk,” I whined. “We both need the exercise. This is supposed to be fun, but it’s NOT!”

Later that afternoon when hubby returned from running errands, he handed me a chain linked ‘pinch’ collar.

“It’s time.” he said. I nodded my head in agreement. Ziva will turn 1-years old on Sunday, and she was not behaving any better. It was time for some tough love around here.

Awwww!

Stay tuned…

♥  TTFN  ♥