At the end of my Rope

It’s that time of year again when the first signs of spring appear. Daffodils poke their heads out of frozen soil, we fight the urge to dig out our favorite pair of flip flops and elementary school jump rope clubs start selling brightly colored plastic jump ropes.

As a crossing guard I am immediately bombarded with hoards of kids. Those who would have otherwise biked, scootered or caught rides to school, now ditch their usual routines in favor of rope skipping several blocks in fringed cold weather so they can hone their jump roping skills.

The excitement in their eyes is intriguing and I find myself itching to Speed Jump, Double Dutch and Criss Cross with the best of them. There are even a few kids who foolishly challenge me to a jump-off thinking that they have me beat by their youth, endless energy and twiggy legs.

Fools, all of them! For what they don’t realize is that I, like the spring daffodils, have been waiting all winter for this season. My superior jump roping skills, which were dormant for months, now stir restlessly within my 35 year old body!

I dig up $3 in change off the floor of my car and purchase the longest jump rope the PE teacher has in stock. He takes my change with raised eyebrows and a look of confusion. Obviously he does not recognize me as “The crossing guard/jump rope Goddess” without my stop sign and orange vest.

I tie my Jump rope in the traditional loop-through fashion, fixing it to my waist as a way to signal to my competitors that I am up for a challenge. And so they come, in pig tails and hoodies, from all grades and skill levels. One by One they fall to their demise and I struggle to hold in my triumphant laughter, which would not be appropriate since I am a professional.

And then it happens. I meet my Nemesis.

It is a Chilly Tuesday morning and a particular 3^rd grader and her father approach me haughtily. I see that she is rope skipping her way along the side walk with perfect form. There is something sinister behind her innocent exterior that my sharpened senses pick up at once, this one is different, this one is dangerous, I can feel it.

Her father greets me with the stride of an over confidant boxing agent and with a flick of his wrist, opens his wallet and fingers 4 crisp $5 bills. “I hear you are a legend in these parts” he sneers while sizing me up. “I do alright” I reply, feeling unsure of my skill for the first time. “I have $20 that says my little champion here can out jump, out trick and out match you, are you game?” he taunts.

Beads of sweat start to form on my temples as I uncomfortably shift from foot to foot. Kids begin to gather around us sensing that they are about to witness history in the making. I take a deep breath refuse the money bet but slowly nod in agreement to a challenge.  I have never backed down from a fight and I silently pray to the jump rope gods for sure footedness and a steady count.

Apparently the Gods where sleeping in that morning because it was over before it started.

She schools me at tricks and longest continuous jump count. Then adding insult to injury she performs a few tricks backwards. Show Off. The tardy bells rings and I’m left alone and out of breath.

 I ceremoniously wrap my jump rope into a figure 8 and bury it in my trunk under some grocery bags and a tattered stuffed dog.  My glory days are over- I’ve had my day in the sun I remind myself, holding back my disappointment and for one short season I was the top dog, the jump rope/crossing guard queen!

Perhaps it was time to move on to something more age appropriate …like knitting…or darning (sigh).

Today I saw my arch-rival again…as she approached, a grin spread wide across my face. “What is this?” I asked pointing to her foot, while sporting my best poker face.

 She was limping.

“Reese is on the injured list” her father/agent mumbled as they crossed my walk, clearly they were not in the mood for questions.

“Perhaps the Jump rope gods were listening after all!” I thought cheerfully and scurried to my trunk to dust off my ever faithful rope.

I smell a Comeback Baby!

Don't Poke the Bear!

This morning my family decided to play a little game called “How many times can we wake up mom before 7am” It is a potentially lethal game of chance in which participants take turns waking me from REM until I snap and end a life. It can be compared in danger to Russian roulette or highway traffic dodging; only this game is much more dangerous.

6:20am- High pitch shrilling filled the house for 5 straight minutes while my husband tries to find a way to remove the battery from the malfunctioning fire alarm outside our bedroom door, waking the ENTIRE household.

6:30am- I reenter REM

6:35am- My 9 year old stares at me from the side of my bed until her eyes bore a hole in my subconscious and I wake with a start. She asks if we are still safe without the fire alarm…something her father could have easily answered.

6:38am –I reenter REM

6:45am- My 15 year old bangs her way through my darkened room and into my bathroom to retrieve a makeup remover wipe- I greeted her with an angry growl and red glowing eyes.

6:47am – I reenter REM

6:48-6:52am –I wake up to the sound of the treadmill downstairs thud, thud, thud while my husband gets in his daily run….it’s sickening. I get out of bed and cover the heater vent with his pillow and return to bed…the animal stirs within me.

6:55am- I reenter REM

7:00am- My husband obviously delusional from his run, reenters the bedroom and approaches my side of the bed. My innocent face gives him hope for his mortality and touches my cheek while muttering “I’m leaving for work now, I came to say goodbye” He is too close & I can smell his fear… it overwhelms me. I struggle to contain my sleep deprived anger but it is futile and I attack like a predator. It is over in minutes. Lucky for him my leg gets twisted in the sheets and he make a mad dash for the door, dives into the hallway and slams the door shut behind him.

Emerging from my room 10 minutes later grumpy and disoriented, I scrounged for a nearby crayon and a stray piece of paper and scribbled across the page “DON’T POKE THE BEAR” then attached it to my bedroom door using chewing gum.

Family…consider yourselves duly warned….

Wiener Dog versus Demon Squirrel

When picking a canine companion for our family we had a few simple guidelines. We wanted a breed that would provide protection, be intimidating-yet kid friendly and low maintenance. Naturally we chose the clearly menacing Miniature Wiener Dog.

Meet Daisy…AKA snicker doodle…AKA Danny’s 11 pound allergy magnet.

She fits NONE of the qualifications on our Perfect Pet list but one- Low maintenance. She is mild mannered, easily lovable and tolerant, as you can see by the holiday costumes. Another endearing trait is that she sleeps 17 hours a day, usually on her back with her paws sprawled in every direction snoring loudly and tucked snugly under my 15 year old daughter’s electric blanket.

When not sleeping she has one goal in life…to catch the Demon Squirrel that lives in our backyard.

This morning Daisy sat for hours by our sliding glass door, her eyes darted quickly from side to side trying to detect even the smallest rodent like movement, a low growl radiated from the depth of her elongated torso. Once the enemy was spotted she maneuvered herself into a low crouch preparing to pounce like an African Lion.

The Demon Squirrel spotted her immediately and casually swaggered towards the house stopping a mere foot from our porch…A smirk played at the corners of his lips as he held his tiny palms outward with extended fingers curling as if to say “Bring it on slinky dog!”

This may seem like an unusually stupid thing for a squirrel to do…encourage a dog whose ancestors were bred to hunt badgers and other ferocious animals!  But apparently he was not your average backyard tree acrobat- obviously trained at a special CIA squirrel academy he possessed some major ninja skills! I’m talking Jackie Chan quality moves people!

Minutes passed and the air thickened with unpredictability. The Suspense was intense! Then as if by some unspoken signal Daisy darted full speed towards her target. The squirrel hesitated as if suddenly fascinated with a particular blade of grass that had caught his attention…death seemed inevitable as Daisy covered the last few feet separating her from the unsuspecting appetizer.

Amazingly at the very last second the Demon Squirrel darted backwards (in which could only be described as a perfect round off back handspring maneuver) and the chase was on! Squirrel and doxon whizzed towards the fence, a blur of fur and frenzy! Leaping with super strength, the Demon Squirrel sprang from the jaws of certain death and landed safely out of reach along our cedar fence.

 Daisy (blinded by rage, her plans foiled once more) lost herself to a psychotic episode which included manic barking and frantic hind leg stepping (similar to River Dancing)

On the fence the Demon Squirrel opened his tiny mouth and bared his small grotesque nut cracking teeth! Out of the depth of his tiny soulless body obnoxious chattering erupted and filled the air with a hail storm of Squirrel profanities that rained down upon my backyard with great gusto.

I Opened the door I glared intently at the Demon Rat wishing I had some miniature hotel soap to wash his dirty mouth out. Before leaping to a nearby branch and out of sight he released a final string of particularly impressive insults that hung heavily in the morning air.

Daisy, overcome by exhaustion and defeat, shamefully started her slow retreat back towards the house. Her head hanging low and tail threaded between her legs.

I gave her some cheesy fish crackers (“Doxon Crack” as we refer to it) as a consolation prize for her efforts and watched as she pitifully disappeared into the warm security of her electric blanket toting her stuffed ducky.

I have never been a fan of bullies so I believe the time has come for some street…or should I say “backyard” justice. I think this is the weekend I’ll borrow my Dad’s shot gun for some target practice. I wonder how fast a Demon Squirrel can run with his butt full of shrapnel? Watch it Rat Boy…your days are numbered!

V-Day Bake Fest 2011 ... A Horror Story

After years of chocolate therapy I can fully admit that I’m a self punisher. I seem to set lofty goals and charge head first into projects KNOWING that it will more then likely drive me to the Loony Bin. A perfect example would be this last Sunday…the day BEFORE Valentine’s Day….Otherwise known as Pre V-day. Not because it stands for Valentine’s Day…it’s because D-Day was already taken.

I LOVE to Bake. It excites me, inspires me and challenges me to test my culinary limits. It also punishes me like a school yard Bully who takes my lunch money,  pushes me to the ground and then walks away laughing. We have a complicated relationship.

 I started out planning to make Chocolate Covered strawberries…a Valentine’s Day favorite. Easy enough right? A little chocolate (white and dark because I’m an equal opportunity chocolate lover) and some plump Costco strawberries. No biggie. That was before I saw the brownie bite recipe. We looked at each other across a crowded internet food site…time froze and somewhere in the distance I heard music playing (It may have been the alarm on my cell phone reminding me to change out the laundry but being a firm believer in love at first site I fully embraced the moment) The raspberry tops teased me with glistening juiciness and I caught myself licking my lips in anticipation. They called to me like a lost Lover. How could I not make them? Hadn’t we been separated long enough? So like the devoted baker I am I hit the print button and added them to my Valentine’s Day baking agenda.

I still figured I would be fine - So I had a few dozen strawberries to dip and 60 or so brownie bites to make. It would be tricky but I felt up to the task….until my sweet husband piped up. “Hey sweetie” he said innocently from the living room where he was doing his homework “I’ve been talking about your amazing cookie cupcakes at work all week, the crew can’t wait to taste them!” Processing this information I popped my head around the doorway and Freaked out calmly clarified. In the end I added 24 cookie cupcakes to my ever growing baking list.

Sunday evening I assembled all my necessary ingredients covering one full counter. Chaos swirled around me as restless children buzzed in and out of the kitchen and my teenage daughter struggled to hold my attention as she proceeded to quote every line from a TV show she found particularly funny.  I started mixing the cupcake batter and quickly closed the oven door. It was the calm before the storm, 20 minutes later all heck let loose.

For a full hour my two youngest daughters had been playing “Who is the Queen of annoying noises” Needless to say they were both going strong. I stormed down stairs wielding my spatula with the wrath of motherhood and threatened patiently redirected my offspring.

Returning to the kitchen my eldest and supposedly wisest DNA nugget informed me that the timer had gone off several minutes ago.  Terror iced through my blood- over cooking cupcakes is cupcake suicide and mine had been on the ledge for at least 2 minutes! I wrenched open the nearest drawer and grabbed for my two baking mitts…my hand hit an empty drawer bottom. Nothing but a pathetic twist tie and a few toast crumbs. Meanwhile my cupcakes were having their wills notarized.

Searching for anything heat resistant I desperately considered using my bare hand…skin heals, cupcakes don’t. Luckily I was saved from self mutilation when I had a flashback. The day before, my husband brought a pan of enchiladas out to the car using my potholders. Luck would have it that he NEVER returns anything to its rightful place an Annoying endearing trait.

Yelling a string of PG-13 obscenities I raced out to the car and retrieved the pot holders. I hurdled two backpacks and knocked down a kitchen chair as I bee-lined it to the oven and threw open the door. Faster than pizza disappears at a weightwatcher's convention I whipped the flat lining cupcakes out of the inferno of death. Just when I thought I had rallied, the edge of one pan caught on the lip of the door and flipped into the smoldering darkness of my oven. Cupcakes bailed from the pan like passengers from the titanic. Several landed on the oven door, some on the baking rack and a few sorry souls face planted the red hot elements, their tasty tops began to burn and melt off them like peeling skin…it was horrific.

Filled with more anger than I ever thought possible, I turned from the murder scene and swallowed my rage in several giant gulps of air. In my peripheral vision I sensed movement. My 15 year old who had witnessed the entire incident slowly left her chair. Years of watching animal kingdom had prepared her for this moment. Moving like a sloth she inched her way from her barstool and along the wall pressing her body firmly into it and giving me as much space as possible. She instinctively knew her life could end at any moment as she attempted to flee and was careful not to make eye contact or any unnecessary noises. When reaching the stairs she flung herself up them taking two stairs at a time…living to see another day.

Passing her on the stair was my husband “Where’s the fire” he teased her as he entered the kitchen. A poor choice of words it turned out since the oven had started to smoke from the cremated cupcakes. Seeing the situation he started to foolishly approach me mumbling something like “Honey, it will be fine, we don’t have to have cupcakes tomorrow”….or something that sounded a lot like “Grab the knife on the counter and stab me with it so you will feel better”….it could have been either one. I turned my head to look at him and I’m guessing it may have resembled a scene from the Exorcist because he stumbled backward and made the sign of the cross before retreating to the basement.

I scraped 12 cupcake corpses out of my oven and held a private vigil over the trashcan complete with a few words from the bible “ashes to ashes dust to dust” Accepting that they were now at peace I went back to work. With the house quiet and my family in hiding, things went much smoother than before. Out of challenges come ingenuity and since I was short on ingredients for a second batch of cookie cupcakes I managed to create a new creation that rivaled my very best.

6 hours later at 3am I tucked 116 goodies safely into the refrigerator and crawled into my awaiting bed. It was now Valentine’s Day and I rolled over to cuddle up to my sweet heart relieved that everything had turned out. Awkwardly I felt a sharp poke in my side and search for the cause in the darkness. I held the object in the light that streamed through my bedroom window….it was my Husband’s toothbrush whittled down into a handmade shank for protection.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

V-day Baking Fest 2011

What does Valentine’s Day mean to me?

 Flowers, Candy, a Night out (or in) with my man & BAKING of course!! Here are a few delectable delicacies that I whipped up for Danny’s work today - Rich Chocolate Trojan cupcakes with golden cookies centers, Wedding cupcakes with sweet Strawberry filling, Sinful Brownie Bites with a blanket of chocolate Ganache & finished with a Fresh Raspberry topped and it wouldn't be Valentines Day without Chocolate Dipped Strawberries! If love was food this is what it would look like! ♥ ♥ ♥

Recipes gladly given upon request 

White and Dark Chocolate dipped Strawberries- a Valentine’s Day MUST!

Chocolate Trojan Cupcakes with Golden chocolate chip cookie centers and

Wedding Cake Cupcakes filled with a sweet strawberry puree.

Both are topped with cream cheese frosting and handmade Chocolate filigree hearts

Sinful Brownie Bites with a blanket of chocolate Ganache & topped with fresh Raspberries

Blog Makeover!

My husband Danny could easily be an interior decorator. He has great sense of color, an artistic eye and a creative nature. The only problem is that we have very different tastes- Mine is more classic and streamline where “less is more” and he embraces the  idea of “lively color pallets, Lots of accent pieces and the catch phrase “When in doubt add more”.

Our marriage has largely remained harmonious because Danny was given clearance to decorate one room in our house and it was the downstairs bathroom. At first I thought the water feature he had suggested we install in our tiny 3/4^th bath was a little extravagant and suggested maybe we rethink it but he explained that his first vision had included an entire wall of big screens TV’s, so considering his limitations he was already settling.

 Consequently you can understand my hesitation when he decided to take a special interest in my blog and announced yesterday that he would like to personally redesign it. I was offended that he did not appreciate the “first random template available” choice I had made when setting up my page and helpfully reminded him that because it was supposed to be a representation of MY Personality he would have to design it with ME in mind. Unfortunately I think He was distracted by something shiny and I lost his attention after I had said the word “Remind”.

I left him at the computer repeating these instructions plainly and with perfect diction “Keep it Simple but Elegant, Symmetrical and Dramatic, yet Clean”.  Clearly listening, he mumbled something about how sweet it was for me to offer to get him some ice-cream and then preceded to eagerly get down to business.

2 hours later I returned to survey his progress. Within that time he had created a new Title for my page incorporating several different fonts. It was random, chaotic and whimsical….clearly not me. I broke the news gently by reaching over and quickly hitting the delete button. “Hey why did you do that?” he wailed “I worked on that for two hours!” I patiently explained about the “Band-Aid theory” and how ripping it off quickly was supposed to spare him pain but I think  his blood sugar was low because he was grumpier then normal and just pointed to the door for me to leave.

Midnight approached and I cautiously slid a sandwich from the doorway to his feet using the kitchen broom. I received a wink and a crooked grin for my kind gesture and I took that as an invitation to peek at his latest masterpiece. Afraid I may have to delete and dash again I had strategically put on a pair of running shoes and left the broom in the door way as a hurdle to buy me some time if I had to make a break for it. 

Surprisingly what I saw was stunning. Bold black stripes lined the outside of my Blog page reminding me of a tailored mans suit – Classic! The title was all in one font with subtle flairs of vivid color –Dramatic yet Clean! Sentimental black and white photos with tiny splashes of red expertly coordinated the entire page and created just enough excitement and richness- Simple but Elegant! In a word it was- PERFECTION.

“You were listening” I whispered lovingly, still in awe of his ever impressive abilities. “Occasionally I do” was his sly reply. I planted a solid kiss on the top of his bald head and thanked him for his efforts then reminded him to return the redbox on his way to work in the morning.

I woke up to the redbox on the counter and a note scribbled on a napkin-“To Whom It May Concern. Your allotted “Husband listening allowance” has been depleted for the week. Please make the appropriate arrangements.”

Ha….Ha….Ha

I'm the Type of girl who bakes cupcakes

Cupcakes -AKA my new obsession- AKA diet bombs

I made these confection cuties for Kaila’s baptism this last weekend. They are triple chocolate with cream cheese frosting and topped with chocolate sprinkles and a wedge of Hershey chocolate bar…. and just like my captivating Kaila, they are full of unexpected surprises. Hiding inside each cupcake is a decadent chocolate chip cookie baked to a golden goodness. I call them my Trojan Cupcakes because they are delicious, deceptive, and devoured quickly.

I’ve had a few requests so I’ve decided to reveal my culinary secrets and post the Trojan Cupcake recipe. If your baking skills are less than impressive, then baby- you have found the right blog! I bake like I clean my house- Lots of smoke and mirrors and plenty of short cuts.

Some have compared my style to the highly popular cooking program “Semi-Homemade” but to be completely honest if I had a cable show it would have to be called “The Lazy Baker”. Short cuts or not there is no denying that the finished products turn out delicious and impressive and none’s the wiser!

Ok let’s get to baking!

(Sorry no step by step pics…I didn’t know I would be posting this)

Things to gather-

*1-Betty Crocker Triple Chocolate Fudge Super Moist cake mix (YES it needs to be Betty Crocker brand…otherwise don’t blame me for the bitter aftertaste)

* 1 & 1/3 cup water

*1/2 cup veg oil

*3 eggs

*24 -1tsp chocolate chip cookie balls (I buy the Toll House brand and it’s already pre-sectioned into 24 pieces! SHORT CUT!)

*cupcake liners

*2 tubs of Betty Crocker Rich and Creamy Cream Cheese frosting….or your own homemade cream cheese frosting but remember this is a “Lazy Baker” recipe so don’t be a show off

*chocolate sprinkles

*2 original Hershey chocolate bars broken into 24 sections

*Large Pastry bag and a Wilton 1M tip

-First in a large bowl or mixer add in the eggs, water and oil. Whip until frothy…don’t you think that is a fun word? FROTHY- I do!

-Next add in the Cake mix and stir until well blended…or until the end of that Katy Perry song you’re dancing too…both should last about 3 minutes.

Helpful Hint- Make sure to have a clean fly swatter handy to whack sneaky children and husbands who think they can lure you away from the batter with cries for Band-Aids or flooding bathrooms

-Line 2 cupcake pans with liners and preheat your oven to….NOW pay attention…. 350 degrees for SHINY METAL or GLASS Pans….or bake at 325degrees for DARK or NONSTICK. The Worst thing you can do is over cook a cupcake….it’s cupcake suicide!

-Using a muffin scoop (again a tool of convenience well worth purchasing) add in about half a scoop of cake batter to eat liner. It should fill the liner a little over half way.

-Separate cookie dough sections (or use a 1tsp scoop to form dough balls) place one cookie ball into the middle of each batter filled liner- don’t push the cookie dough down into the batter, no need to get aggressive, no one likes a cookie bully and anyway it will sink as it bakes

-Place both pans of cupcakes into oven at the same time…I say this because I believe in not showing favoritism when I bake and besides it help them cook evenly, creating a harmonious atmosphere.

-Set your timer for 20 minutes and hide in a closet with a good book, this way your family will still think you’re slaving away in the kitchen and you can steal a few chapters in peace. …oh Roman…why would you ever question Elisabeth’s loyalty to you? Of course the baby is yours! Sniff, Sniff

-Once cooked (check the center of a few cupcakes, use a toothpick, when the toothpick comes clean and the tops are slightly cracked your cupcakes are done! DO NOT OVER COOK!!!) Remove cupcakes from the pans and cool for 5 minutes on a cooling rack, then arrange warm cupcakes on a cookie sheet and place them in the freezer for 3 more chapters….oops I meant 30 minutes, Or until they are  mostly frozen.

-Now let’s prepare the frosting- Open can, Remove foil and Stir until smooth….now Rest a few minutes, there is no need to risk getting Carpal Tunnel.

-Secure tip to the party bag and fold down the top 3^rd of the clean bag outwards covering the hand that is holding the bag. Now using a large spoon or spatula (that is another fun word to say Spa-tu-la) Scoop the frosting from BOTH containers into the bag. Twist to remove air bubbles and close bag.

-Now you’re ready to frost! The nice thing about frosting a frozen cupcake is that the cold that radiates from the cake helps the frosting set quickly so it keeps a perfect shape (plus everyone knows that frosting can be quite snobbish and deserves the cold shoulder)

-When creating a swirl design gently squeeze the frosting bag so that the pressure stays even and trace around the outside edge of the cupcake, when you have reached your starting point move to the inside and start another circle until you have closed in the top of the cupcake with frosting. Then squeeze the bag a little more and gently press the tip into the center (where you have ended up) and pull upward without putting any pressure on the bag- this will give you a nice little peak. Practice on a plate a few times until you like what you see before trying it on the cupcakes- or be like me and just eat all your mistakes so your shroud of perfection remains.

-Quickly (because they will start to set fast) add the sprinkles. Try to imagine its fairy dust and not mice droppings like I think of every time I use chocolate sprinkles…WHAT?! You hadn’t noticed the resemblance? Sorry

-Lastly take a wedge of chocolate bar and press it in slightly in at an angle as not to disrupt the Feng Shui of your pastry masterpiece.

That’s it! Easy Peasy right?

 Now I have a favor to ask. I have made it my life’s work to look more perfect than I am so when you make these little beauties, keep my “Lazy Baker” secret just between us.

Thanks!

I'm the type of girl who watches the Super Bowl

Last night’s Super Bowl game was quite entertaining- There were several exciting interceptions, some multimillion dollar car commercials and an electric half time concert.  But the most entertainment I had last night didn’t include any of these things.

By far my fondest memory of Super Bowl 2011 will be of my husband attempting to achieve clear reception for our impressive 48inch flat screen high def TV using a prehistoric set of bunny ear antennas.

As a family we had decided to limit our Television use, so common sense had us canceling our cable and resorting back to primitive means. Unfortunately getting clear reception in our basement was like trying to start a BMW using a triple A battery and jumper cables.

First we had a full 10 minutes of antenna rearranging- Left, Right, Crisscross, and Repeat- over and over he wrestled with the bunny ears. The scene strongly resembled an air traffic controller being chased by a swarm of bees.

Gradually his frustrations mounted as blips from the first quarter flashed across the TV screen. “Was that an interception?” he moaned while performing an especially impressive double Crisscross maneuver resulting in yet more static. I chuckled at his obvious antenna expertise.

Finally he stormed from the room; kids scattering to clear him a path. Upon returning he met me with intense glare (apparently he did not find the situation as humorous as I did) and an entire roll of aluminum foil.  As a former boy scout he had come prepared.

A few minutes and 12 feet of aluminum later each antenna reached 6 feet in length and was snuggly mummified in silver casings. It was a truly hideous sight….but oddly enough the picture on our big screen was nearly pristine.

Alas, NEARLY was not good enough however and guessing what the problem might be, he held the antenna base 3 feet higher. This last action resulted in success and football in all its’ glory shone crystal clear on the screen. He asked me to hold it EXACTLY as he had, so I accommodated reluctantly.

 Standing back to admire his handwork he cocked his head to the side deep in thought. I held my breath wondering if his final solution would require me standing next to the TV for the next 3 hours. I silently started to plan my escape route…I strategized that if I hit him over the head with a nearby liter of root beer that would buy me enough time to run away.

Finally he snapped his fingers and stormed into the laundry room. Toting an empty clothes hamper he snatched the antenna from my hands and placed it on the upside down hamper. Instantly the room shone with celestial light and a chorus of angels erupted into “Handel’s Messiah”. Danny turned triumphantly, arms raised in the traditional touchdown stance and continued to admire his handy work.

It was quite a sight. Upside down clothes hamper, a set of 1990’s rabbits ears wrapped in 12 feet of alumina foil that nearly brushed the ceiling of our family room and a proud as a peacock husband.

 Forget the million dollar commercials and the momentum changing plays get yourself a set of rabbit ears and a football frenzied husband and now you’re talking real entertainment!
Oh and if you like living on the edge…..hide the remote!