#Social Media Post test


Smart Cleaning

I hate cleaning! Yes I will let the laundry and dishes pile up. I admit that I am not the most clean person. But that’s okay, because I will never be on one of those house-cleaning or hoarder tv shows. But I’m not here to talk about what I should do and don’t do.

Just a simple trick to cleaning smarter and working less.

Okay, so you have one of those pans or baking dishes that you cooked in and well, lets just say that you left it out and there’s stuck crud or not all of it came off the pan after you let it sit in some hot water. No need to endlessly try to scrub it or throw it away. (yeah, I was like that for a time.) Well here’s what you do.

1. Take said pan with stuck crud and put some water in it. I put enough water just to the top of the stuck crud. Place it over the stove like below and turn the heat on. I did have some dish soap in it from the other dishes that I was cleaning, but no worries. Now let it simmer for a little bit.

Stuck Crud

Stuck Crud

2. Once the water is hot, just take a wooden spoon and start scraping some of the areas that aren’t really bad. Now be careful not to get to carried away and make the pan slip and spill all over you (I’ve done that before. Ouch!)

Just after a few minutes.

Just after a few minutes, stuck crud is loosening up.

3. Now for the harder areas, I find that it is easier to take the wooden spoon the center of it, bare down a little bit and spin it. Helps to break it up, but do whatever works for you.

Freshly rinsed.

Freshly rinsed.

There’s a little bit left, but much better.

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4. Wash the sucker and you back to new.

I’ve used this for all sorts of cooking stuff and have salvaged a few old cooking pans that I was going to throw. Whatever you do, please use common sense and don’t blame me when you burn yourself, trust me I’ve done it before.

Also, you can use this technique to clean your microwave. I would do another post with pics, but I have given up it up over a year ago (it’s in the basement on top of the full freezer, just in case though).

But using the same technique all you have to do, it place a bowl of water in the microwave, set it to 3 minutes or so, then wipe it down. You can repeat the process if one pass doesn’t work.

And remember clean smarter not harder!


10 Things I Hate… No make it 5 things I Hate

1. Junk Mail.

I’m one of those that scans the junk mail box just to make sure that something in there shouldn’t be. Today, I found that there was an email from financial aid from college in there. Shall I say WHAT?!

And then the ones that you block that keeps coming back like from 4everurs #### or Adriana. I block it and they just keep coming back, stupid robots.

2. You’ve all ready been at home from work for a while, you start to get hungry, look in the fridge nothing freezer nothing pantry nothing,  decide there’s nothing to eat but still don’t go to the store.

3. Have those days where you feel your dogs or whatever pets you have it better than you. Need I say more?

4. Those strange memories that shouldn’t be there because they happened so long ago that pop it from time to time. High school days riding the bus home, thought one guy was cute and admired from far, until the one day I saw him stick his finger up his nose, dig a bugger out and eat it. I’m not kidding! And that changed everything. Then years later, introduced to the bugger-eating guy, but didn’t realize it, through conversation realized who he was… um no. Don’t think so. True story but made it short.

5. Lines and like lines, lists are lines so I’m halfway there and cutting it short. And speaking of lines… Oh that’ll start the next post because I’m done.


The Chef’s Failure and Love Affair

I say that I’m a pretty good cook, mainly coming up with things that I have at hand. B on the other hand knows much more on the technical side and I’m always learning something from him.

But there was just this one thing that was his one and only failure, that I know of.

A few months ago, I got home late one night from work. I walked in and immediately smelled boiled peanuts. I guess someone was craving it since we had been talking about it a few days prior. B was all ready in bed so I grabbed a few in a bowl and went into the bedroom. He’s a light sleeper so I know that he was up before I went into the house.

He saw the peanuts in the bowl and asked what I thought of them. I told him that I hadn’t had any yet. I opened one up, ate it and was I was in for a surprise.

“It needs salt.”

“What? You always tell me that I put too much salt in something, so I didn’t need that much.”

I said. “Oh, no. Boiled peanuts is something that you have to put lots of salt in or it’s tasteless. How much did you put in?”

Don’t remember exactly what amount he said. I laughed and he asked me how much. Shrugging my shoulders, IDK.

The next day we looked it up yeah, definitely more than what he put it.

Regardless, last Sunday I made some and well, he said that if he would ever have an affair it would be with my boiled peanuts.


Wednesday– all of Atlanta was under a tornado warning. Adairsville got hit pretty bad. I had a meeting at 1 that afternoon. It was okay. Not what I was expecting, not going to lie, a huge waste of time, but that’s another story.

Afterwards, was in the mood for a burger, stopped at Golden Arches. It was dead due to the weather. So sitting there, eating my huge burger and fries. One of the young ladies were grabbing a bite before her shift, when Mom called.

“Cattdee” as she says it. Half of my family can’t say the -th sound. “You okay. I heard tornado up dere. It near you?”

“No, mom. It’s past me.” The young lady eating at the table in front of me looks up and has a big smile on her face.

“Oh, not near you? How far?”

“No, mom. It hit another town but it’s about 20 miles away or so. Just a lot of wind and rain.”

“Okay. Bye.” I hang up the phone.

“It doesn’t matter how old you get, mom will always be mom,” I told the young lady across from me. She laughed, only if she really knew. She really wasn’t a young lady, more like a kid. My thought is if an age still at teen at the end of it as in, nineteen, still a kid.

“My mom was worried about it too.” The young lady across from me said.

* Now it may have seemed like a very short, heartless call from mom, but you have to understand how this works. My mom is one of those women that is 4 foot 10, straight to the point alpha female mom. Sometimes, her words don’t speak, but it’s the tone that you have to understand. And trust that the tone was there.

Don’t worry, I did talk to her later that night, a conversation that lasted much longer than the literally 22 second phone call from earlier.

Patience is a Virtue and also a use of a good story

This happened a while back, but it’s always a fun story to retell.

I normally don’t go to Old Time Pottery, but when I do I always find something, found a really nice wine rack that I’m going to build into the shelves beside the fireplace, but that’s besides the point, or shall I say something found me. I was excited that I found Rock Star Parking*, always glad when that happens. So I’m sitting there listening to music and eating my taco, I was famished after all the running around and shopping that I did.

I’m not paying attention to people as they walk by, you always have to know your surroundings, but this on lady really struck me as odd. She was beginning to walk past the front of the car and paused for a split second. Then as she was walking past it, she turned around and stopped, making her way a little to my car and saying something. I rolled down the window and she proceeded to tell me that I was parked in a handicap spot. I slightly looked up and no there wasn’t a sign in front of me. I tell her I wasn’t. “Yes… you…. are,” she says in a stern motherly tone.

“mmm, no I’m not. I’m parked right beside one.” She gives me this look. I’m surprised she didn’t start giving me a the finger that your mom gives you when she lectures you. Meanwhile, one of the employees was collecting the buggies. So she begins to get the guy involved. She tells him that I’m parked in the handicap. “She doesn’t look handicap to me.” she says, you know, that kind under your breath but loud enough for other people to hear.By this time, people are either stopping at the commotion.

At this time I get out of the car. The employee looks at the spot, “No she’s not, just beside one.” I guess this lady is getting frustrated even angry because everyone is wrong and she is right. At this time, she starts yelling that I’m parked in the handicap spot. The employee just brushes it off and goes back in  with the row of buggies and so do a few of the people watching the scene. A few people stay around.

So this lady is yelling at how I need to be considerate of the disabled… blah blah blah. To end it all, I actually back the car up a little bit. Maybe there is a possibility that there is a handicap icon in my parking spot and not an actual sign, though I knew that there wasn’t.

“Look this isn’t a handicap, there’s nothing to indicate it.” The lady looks down and is scanning the asphalt like it would magically appear. There was this older guy that just shook his head behind his wife, I know he wasn’t going to say anything, just as he didn’t say anything when he got dragged to Old Time Pottery. I pull the car back into my Rack Star Spot.

Yeah, you think it’s over like I thought. Wrong. She huffs and tells me “Well, you are parked too close to the handicap spot.” So what no one is suppose to park next to the handicap and leave it open. I just go into the stare and she’s going in. She complains to customer service, it’s located right as you walk into the store. I don’t know what she is complaining about, but I stick around the area for the amusement.

“So is this car parked in the handicap or not.” that’s what I heard the employee ask her. I just snickered to myself and walked away.

I don’t get some people, but my job isn’t to get them.

*Rock Star Parking is when you find a parking spot real close to your destination.