Oy! It's a domovoi!!

When I wrote this post, I was only semiserious about having gnomes in my home.   I am now more convinced than ever before that there’s something going on.  The blank-ety-blank prankster is staying hidden but seems to enjoy making it’s presence known by driving us absolute bonkers.  Whatever it is, it’s upped the stakes and getting out of hand.  Even my dubious husband is beginning to believe. 

As I said in my previous post, little things disappear from around our home fairly regularly; insignificant things . . . innocuous things.  They almost always turn up within a day or a week or month.  We recently had a Thing go missing that, had it not been found, could have caused a major upheaval.  

My husband blamed me for being careless and I accused him of f^cking with me . . . but pointing the finger at one another wasn’t helping the situation. 

We knew the Thing had to be in our house.  We looked where it should have been, we looked where it maybe could have been, and we looked where there was no way it could possibly have been.  We searched, turned the house upside down and inside out . . . more than once.   Actually, *I* did most of the looking while he lounged about since *I* was the one who had carelessly "lost" the Thing.

The jokester was running amok and must have been having the grandest of times watching us freak out.  While looking for The Thing, I found all manner of other stuff that I’d given up for good . . . a flashlight, an envelope and phone charger.  These things had been gone for a year or more and there they were . . . literally right in front of my face. 

Again, I asked my hubby if he was f^cking with me . . . no, no and no.

30 hours after we noticed the Thing was missing, we were giving up hope of finding it.  If it wasn’t in the house then that meant someone had to have taken it out . . . not good.  In a last ditch effort, we looked in all the same places we had looked before . . . I was about to flip out when I heard my husband’s voice calling me.  So off I went . . . figuring I was going to get yelled at again.  As I approached him he asked me if I was f^cking with him.  Of course I wasn’t.  Then he swore up and down and all around that he wasn’t f^cking with me.

He found It! Where?  In the exact spot where it was supposed to be, where he put it, where we both looked more than a half a dozen separate times.  It was staring 

us in the face  . . . there’s no way we could have missed it before.

He may not be f^cking with me.  I am certainly not f^cking with him.  But something is most definitely f^cking with us!!

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I’ve done some more research to see what other house spirits may be plaguing us.  Another viable possibility is a Domovoi, which is a shape shifter that can appear as any animal or inanimate object, but most often resembles a short, hairy, little old man.  They are nocturnal, they are always male, have a grumpy disposition and believe they are the masters of the home they inhabit. 






Their favorite places are the threshold under the door or a spot under the stove, but the center of the home is their primary domain.  There can only be one domovoi living in a home and he will protect the house it occupies from other spirits. They are friends of the animals and live in harmony with pets.   It is generally a good spirit, but it will wreak havoc if it is angered by a messy home, profane language or whistling.   When they get irritated they will play tricks, move objects, break dishes, throw things, cause mysterious bruises and tickle sleeping people.

Anyone who’s been in my home can attest to the fact that I’m not the best housekeeper; the laundry doesn’t always get done, the dishes don’t always get washed and there stuff all over the place.    I, as well as my husband, have a potty mouth . . . what can I say . . . I like to swear.  I can’t whistle but my hunny can be heard making a little lip music now and then.


Perhaps that explains the bruises that constantly appear on my body with no cause or explanation.  It may also explain our cat’s sudden interest underneath the stove.  It could explain the stuff that falls out of our cupboards and off the counters without help.  And, it explains the belongings that go missing.  It explains an awful lot.


Domovoi can be appeased by treats of bread, salt, sweets and fruit left in the kitchen for them.  However, if they are not pacified their tricks will continue to escalate.  Time to do some baking, I think.  I have to do something!  And, no, cleaning the house is out of the question.  :-)~

People who snore always fall asleep first

Every couple knows how precious mattress real estate is.  Although it should obviously be an invisible line straight down the middle of the bed, it seems that the line of demarcation between equitable sides is vague at best.   And when there’s a pet, or multitudes thereof, property value is at an even higher premium.  Thankfully, our kitty is a non-issue.  Her spot is mostly on my butt or sometimes on his hip . . . basically she’s double parked.  Which is good . . . more room for us!

It only took my husband and me 7 years to lay down . . . and agree upon . . . the property lines.  Of course, at first there was the inevitable struggle every night at bedtime.   The disagreement over who was hogging more of the bed, the butt bumping when someone’s posterior strayed into the other’s territory, an elbow to the rib or nose and the all out shoving of the other person to their side.  Now and again even combat tactics have been employed to gain precious ground . . . biological warfare . . . farting is an effective approach to relocating serial bed hoggers . . . needless to say girls don’t fart, the blow kisses.  Whatever works, right?

Now the laptop and two cell phones are a different story . . . they take up space that makes HIM infringe on MY space.    However, I generally can’t complain for a two reasons.

One, the laptop is on the bed for one reason . . . I’m a morning person and my husband is a night person.  That means that I like to go to bed way earlier than he does.  But because he likes to spend time with me . . . even if I’m snoring away . . . he will come to bed with me and do whatever it is he does on his computer while I’m snoozing.

Two, the presence of the electronic devices smooshes him closer to me which encourages snuggling which I can’t say that I mind.  And, being that he’s such a good cuddler, it actually makes it an optimal arrangement.

With the exception of the occasional scuffles over a stray foot or arm, the skirmishes over the equitable distribution of the mattress assets has been settled comfortably. 

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Hot Sausage and Pepper Cornbread

Sweet, crusty cornbread baked over a layer of spicy sausage, onions and peppers . . . a killer good combination!

  

1 1/2 Pound Hot Sausage

1 Chopped Onion

2 Bell Peppers, Diced

1 1/2 Cup Grated Cheddar Cheese

1 Recipe Southern Cornbread (See Below)

Lightly brown sausage in 10-inch skillet. 

Add onion and peppers to skillet and cook until tender.

Southern Cornbread

1 1/2 Cup Stone Ground Corn Meal (Yellow Or White)

1 1/2 Cup Flour

1 1/2 Teaspoon Salt

1 1/2 Tablespoon Baking Powder

3 Tablespoons Sugar

2 Eggs

1/2 Cup Oil Or Bacon Drippings

1 1/2 Cup Milk

Combine the ingredients and stir briefly. 

Sprinkle shredded cheese over meat mixture. Pour cornbread batter on top. 

Bake in 450 degree F oven for 25 minutes or until golden brown.

All I really need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt!

Besides being the most important holiday in the Christian world . . . Easter is a time for bunnies, egg hunts, baskets full of goodies, fancy bonnets, and the traditional whipping & dousing of women.

Yes, you read correctly . . . whipping women and dousing them with water.  It’s a very old pagan custom practiced in Slovak communities. 

 

A pomlázka is special pussy willow cane which is hand-woven and decorated with colorful ribbons; one ribbon for every girl a young man has managed to soak or whip. 

One part of the tradition is for men to pursue women brandishing the light branch and use it to "whip" women on the legs when they catch up with them.  Whip is a strong word; nowadays it’s more in fun and shouldn’t actually cause pain. 

The other part of this practice is for young men to chase a young girl and when they catch her they throw her in a creek.  These days, however, a man will ask the girl for a cup, fills it with cold water, and then splashes it in her face.

And THEN for the pleasure of being beaten and drenched, the girls give away colored eggs and chocolates to their aggressor.   Sounds like fun . . . not . . . nobody better get any funny ideas . . . just sayin’.

What is the meaning behind this barbaric behavior? Pagan Slavs believed that the whipping brought good luck, wealth and a rich harvest for the whole year and the drenching was supposed to keep the woman fertile, healthy and fresh for the rest of the year.

My family emigrated from Czechoslovakia over 60 years ago.  I’ve never seen or heard of either of those traditions being practiced here in America but apparently it stills goes on in the old country.

Our Easter tradition was what most little kids expect . . . the chocolate bunnies, colored eggs and an Easter basket.   One Easter, when I was still an infant, my mom got my sister peeps for Easter.  Not the marshmallow kind . . . the live and in person fluffy yellow kind.

My sister was a little older than two years old at the time.  She may not have known a thing about the birds and the bees but she knew where baby chickens came from.   In her Easter basket nestled amongst the candy were plastic eggs filled with small toys.  My sister emptied out those plastic eggs and stuffed the fuzzy little chicks into them. 

I’d like to say this story has a happy ending, but it doesn’t.  By the time my mother discovered the missing peeps, they were no longer peeping . . . the poor little things.  Keep in mind, the same kid who killed the baby chicks is the same one who stuck a bobby pin in a wall socket and went screaming to mommy that the wall bit her.  Cute but not to bright.

That's one little kid who might have benefited from some traditional Slovak Easter customs.

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Another, less wet and painful, Slovak Easter tradition is a special breakfast.  The meal consists of sliced hard boiled egg, ham, klobása (kielbasa), cirak (Slovak Easter cheese), homemade bread, butter, and horseradish mixed with chopped beets.

Cirak, the Slovak Easter cheese, is traditionally served sliced and cold with the Easter meal.  It’s more of a sweet custard with hints of vanilla and nutmeg.

• 12 Eggs
• 4 Cups Milk
• 1 Cup Sugar
• 1 Tablespoon Vanilla Extract
• 1 Pinch Ground Nutmeg

In an electric mixer, beat the eggs until mixed well.  Transfer the eggs to a double boiler and stir in milk, sugar, vanilla and nutmeg.

Cook over a medium heat for 30 minutes. Use a metal slotted spoon and constantly stir the bottom of the pan to prevent scorching.

When the mixture looks just like cooked scrambled eggs, pour it carefully into a cheesecloth-lined colander.

Carefully gather the ends of the cheesecloth in your hands and pull them together until the cheese forms into a ball. Tie the cheesecloth tightly at the top of the ball.

Tie the cheesecloth ends over a faucet or to the handle of a kitchen cabinet (place a bowl under to catch the whey dripping down which can be used to in the bread dough) and let hang for about 3 hours.

Untie the cheesecloth and wrap the cheesecloth ball in plastic wrap before refrigerating. The cheese will keep for about a week. Slice and serve.

Simon's Cat in 'Hop it'

Firewater Friday - I dripped it carelessly. Ah! I didn't know, I held opportunity

When I was a little kid, eating ice cream was more than a special treat . . . it was a rarity.   Not because my parents were fruity-tootie   crunchy-granola health nuts or any of that nonsense . . . it’s because yours truly could not consume an ice cream cone without the majority of it ending up smeared all over my face, dripping down my arms and inevitably winding up all over my clothes.    I’d get all excited and as goofy as a deadfallen jaybird ⁽¹⁾. I licking lick made and slurping away and the next thing you know I was a big ol’ mess . . . but as cute as a betsy-bug!  It must have made my mother madder than a peach-orchard boar ⁽¹⁾!

This could NOT have been an isolated incident . . . I find it highly improbably that I was a prodigal ice-cream dripper extraordinaire!  Really!  

A little research vindicates me . . . or the little kid that I used to be.  There are lots and lots of inventions that’s sole purpose it to prevent melty ice cream cones from making a big mess.

Check it out . . . 

This one is simple in design and yet, conceivably, effective.  Although, what's to prevent the liquidated ice cream from dripping over the edges?  Perhaps this is for the more advance user?

This doesn't look like anything more than a vacuum cleaner bag with the ring cut off . . . I hope it's from an unused bag!  Ugh.

Okay, now we're getting somewhere . . . this one not only holds the cone but captures the drippy goodness.  Not only is a mess prevented but you can savor the flavor after all the melting is said and done!  Sweet!

This is more my style . . . a high tech ice cream licking device.  Not only does it hold the cone and capture melted ice-cream but it spins the cone for you . . . less work and more enjoyment.  Jolly good!

⁽¹⁾ When fruit falls to the ground it is usually already over ripe.  The very sweet fruit comes in contact with all the 'wild' yeasts present on the ground begins to ferment very quickly.  This process continues until virtually all the fruit has finished fermenting.   Animals happen along and eat these intoxicating noms and get ‘goofy as a deadfallen jaybird’ and ‘madder than a peach-orchard boar’.

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Although ice cream cones made of metal, glass or paper have been in use for centuries, the first true edible conical shaped cone for serving ice cream was created at the St. Louis Worlds Fair by Ernest Hamwi in 1904. His waffle booth was next to an ice cream vendor who ran short of dishes. Hamwi rolled a waffle to contain ice cream and the cone was born.

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Frozen Banana Daiquiri

6 Oz. White Rum

2 Oz. Crème De Banane Liqueur

1 Fresh Lime, Juiced

1 Tsp. Rose's Lime Juice

2 Bananas, Peeled And Chopped

Crushed Ice

Banana Slices, For Garnish

Pour the rum, Crème de Banane liqueur, fresh lime juice, Rose's lime juice and chopped bananas into a blender and process at high speed for 15 to 20 seconds.

Add 2 cups crushed ice to and blend for an additional 30 seconds.

Transfer the drinks to glasses.  

Garnish each glass with a banana slice and serve immediately.

Safety doesn't happen by accident.

Safety pins are so versatile . . . they keep your clothes from falling off, they can be used as jewelry, and they can make a fashion statement.  The safety pin as we know it was invented in 1849 for a rather practical reason.  But probably not the purpose you might think.  The creator, Walter Hunt, was good at thinking up all kinds of things . . . sewing machines, flax spinners, coal stove.  Unfortunately, he failed to patent many of his ideas and didn’t make money off of them.  However, he owed a friend a sum of $15 dollars and needed to come up with a way to pay him back.  So he decided to invent something new.  He decided to come up with a way to make straight pins safe.  So, in 1894, from a piece of brass wire he made the first safety pin, by coiling the center and shielding the end.  For this invention he took out a patent and sold the rights to it for four hundred dollars.  He paid his friend back and had three hundred eighty-five dollars to spare.            Of course, that’s nothing compared to the millions he could have made on his many other inventions.

 

Pins, regular straight pins, not safety pins were so rare in 12th century England that they were only sold on January 1st and 2nd. Since they were so expensive, a separate sum for this luxury was granted to the ladies by their husbands. That’s how the expression "pin-money” came to be.

Nearly one hundred years later in the 1980’s, safety pins became an accessory to punkers.  Among many other things . . . purposely-ripped clothes were held together by safety pins and safety pins were used as jewelry and as body piercings.

“The Safety Dance" was a popular single in the 1980’s.  Punk band, Men Without Hats, wrote the song as a protest against bouncers stopping dancers pogoing to music in clubs.  In a time when disco was dying a well deserved death, pogoing was new and strange.  It was done by holding the torso rigid and thrashing about. Bouncers, unfamiliar with this new style of dance, thought it could be dangerous and kicked pogoers out of many clubs.  Dangerous dance, hence . . . safety Dance. One misconception, in the era of a growing epidemic of AIDS infections, was that the song was a call for safe sex and the use of condoms. 

The use of condoms was, indeed, growing exponentially in the 1980 and beyond.   However, these penile protectors have been around for millennia.  Egyptian, Chinese and Roman society uses various materials to keep winkies safe from bugs and disease.    During the

The 16^th century experienced an epidemic of syphilis, a sexually transmitted disease.  Coverings of linen, silk and pieces of animal intestine slipped onto a love wand and secured at the base with a piece of ribbon.  Latex wasn’t invented until the mid-1800’s . . . those very early rubbers had a seam and were as thick as an inner tube . . . yikes!  Soon after it became safe and practical condoms became widely available.   It wasn’t until much later that it was discovered that condoms prevented not only unwanted diseases but also unwanted babies.  Hence making it safe to dance if you wanna.

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Italian Sausage & Steak Chili (A Crock Pot Recipe)

2 Tablespoons Extra Virgin Olive Oil

2 Pounds Eye of Round, Cut Into Small Cubes

1 Pound Hot or Sweet Bulk Italian Sausage

Salt And Pepper  

3 Jalapeño Peppers, Chopped

1 Onion, Chopped

3 To 4 Cloves Garlic, Chopped

1 Teaspoon Dried Oregano

2 28-Ounce Cans Cannellini Beans With Juice

1/2 Cup Tomato Paste

1 Can or Bottle Beer – I Used A Lager

3 Cups Beef Stock

Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium-high heat, add steak and brown.  When steak is browned transfer to crock pot.  Brown to sausage in same pan used for the beef then transfer to crock pot.

Combine the peppers, onion, garlic, oregano, beans, tomato paste, beer and stock in the slow-cooker crock pot, and then close the lid. 

Cook on low for 6 hours or high for 4 hours.

Serve in bowls topped with shredded cheese.