Bowing sunflower

This is the view I have when I park my car. When the breeze rustles the plants, it looks like they are dancing. The flower that is bent over reminds me of a person bowing.

I noticed yesterday that the birds have found the bowing flower and are starting to strip its seeds -- just part of the cycle of life, I guess.

A Hardee's farewell

This morning, I had what is likely to be my last Hardee's biscuit for quite a while. My favorite breakfast stop is gone.
Wednesday, I hit the drive-through and got the special, two sausage-and-egg biscuits for $2.22. (I tossed the egg, but the special was cheaper than two sausage biscuits.) I had one for breakfast and stashed the other in the fridge at work.
Thursday afternoon, I noticed something looked amiss as I passed the restaurant. Then I realized the sign was gone from out front. All the posters have been taken down; all the chairs are stacked on tables.
This morning, I reheated my biscuit and took some time to really enjoy it.
Now I'm in a breakfast quandry. Where will I go? What will I do?
Guess I'll have to start lobbying in earnest for the hospital to put in a drive-through. MMMMM, cheese grits!

Squash Fritters

Here's a recipe I concocted Saturday. I've tried to put in enough details so the "cooking challenged" can take a swing at making them. I even MEASURED as I concocted!

SQUASH FRITTERS
3 cups grated yellow squash
1/4 cup shredded cheddar cheese
1 egg, beaten
Flour (see note)
Salt, pepper or seasoning of choice
Oil

Using the side of a box grater with large holes, grate yellow squash. (I used two squash that were about 12 inches long and 3 inches in diameter.) When measuring, don't pack the squash into the measuring cup.

Place squash into a clean dish towel and wring the juices out. (You want to get it as dry as possible, because it will continue to produce juice as it sits.)

In a medium bowl, combine squash with egg, cheese and seasoning and mix. Add flour 1 tablespoon at a time until a batter is formed (sort of like lumpy pancake batter). Depending on how dry the squash is, it should take at least 3 tablespoons. My squash was wet, so I used 6 tablespoons.

Heat a very small amount of oil (1 to 2 tablespoons) in a non-stick skillet over medium heat. When oil is hot but not smoking, drop batter by spoonfuls, leaving ample space for batter to spread. (An ice cream scoop works nicely.) Cook until a toasty crust forms, then turn and repeat.

Remove cooked fritters to drain on paper towels. If possible, put towels on a cooling rack and set fritters in a slow (170-degree) oven while cooking the rest.

Serve warm. Excellent with beans, greens and cornbread.

Makes about 12 fritters of about 3 inches in diameter.

Note: My first experiment with this turned out salty because instead of using the towel method to remove the juices, I tried sprinkling salt over the squash and using a weight to "squish" the juices out through a colander. When I added self-rising flour, which contains salt and baking soda, the fritters were salty -- but delicious nonetheless.

Otis gives them two paws up!

Sidebar: Otis made a liar out of me Sunday. He wolfed down some scrambled eggs. Apparently, he prefers them with Provolone instead of cheddar. Oy!

Otis and the okra

We know, we know. We're terrible pet parents. We fell into a bad habit, and now we can't recover.
What's the problem, you ask?
(tone drops to a conspiratorial whisper)
We let Otis eat people food.
There. I said it. It's out in the open. Nothing to see here, people. Just keep moving.
Well, except there is the matter of what Otis eats.
For those who don't know, Otis is a "rescue" D-O-G (we spell it because it hurts his feelings if we say it -- and yes, I know he can't read). He was "liberated" from some neglectful neighbors by a former co-worker of mine, who brought him to the office to find him a home. Her dogs were HUGE and would have squashed him like a bug.
Two hours of looking at those sad eyes and that sweet face, and I gave in. He got a new name -- Otis Campbell, after the character on "The Andy Griffin Show" -- and a new home.
As for his lineage, we're not sure. He's at least part long-hair Chihuahua, possibly with some Pomeranian thrown in. He's a golden blond, but he sheds a lot, so we keep him clipped in the summer.
Back to his diet. We tried dry D-O-G food. Then we tried a parade of wet foods. But one thing became clear: If we ate it, he wanted it.
I know some pet parents who probably would try eating the D-O-G food to get him to eat it. I'm not one of them.
So, as the years have passed (three, at least), we just fell into the habit of feeding Otis what we're eating.
We've been surprised at what he won't eat. He doesn't like scrambled eggs, and he looks insulted if you offer him gravy biscuits.
We have been equally taken aback at what he does eat. This includes salad — he's partial to the grilled chicken Caesar from McDonald's — and frosted shredded wheat cereal.
Last night, though, takes the cake, so to speak.
Hubby cooked up some squash with onions, opened some Glory collard greens and reheated a pan of chicken dressing from Grandmother. The crowning glory was supposed to be the okra he grew in our little garden, boiled and lightly salted.
Sadly, most of the okra was so tough we couldn't chew it. Otis, however, fared much better. I noticed him pick up something and take it aside to eat, so I started watching to make sure he wasn't trying to stash a treat for later. I nearly fell over when I realized he was munching okra.
He polished off one pod and headed for another. This time, he figured out a way to split open the pod and lick the inside clean before eating the outside.
One by one, he ate a dozen or so pods. He rounded off his supper with some squash and onions and a dab of collards, then washed it down with some water. He was quite satisfied until I blurted out, "Have you ever seen a dog eat okra?!?"
Wounded, he slunk off to the living room and pouted until we cleared the table and mopped the floor.
I think it was just his way of shirking his turn at washing dishes.

When Good Sprite Goes Bad

Any time there is a communal fridge in a workplace, there always is a chance that science -- or a pandemic -- can break out. Monday, the newsroom fridge transformed itself into a laboratory.

Much the way the office has mysterious climate zones that defy all logic (more on this another day), the fridge has quirks that cannot be explained. The crisper drawers are hot spots (ahem) for this activity. There's no need to store vegetables or meats or cheeses in them unless you prefer your sammies and salads on ice.

The flip side of this is that anything left on the shelves is subject to fridge gremlins -- those mysterious beings who slip in when no one is looking and steal away with your lunch, snack or favorite beverage. The gremlins seem confounded by the crispers -- perhaps they can sense the dark forces at work -- so Kim and I have taken to storing our soft drinks, waters and other refreshments there.

Monday, she headed to the fridge with a couple of cans of Buffalo Rock Diet Ginger Ale Southern Spice (more on this another day), planning to retrieve cold ones and replenish the stock.

My phone rang, and the number on the ID was the breakroom's.

"Yes, ma'am?" I said.

"Have you looked in this drawer lately?"

"No. Have we been robbed?"

Chuckling ensued.

"You just need to come back here. This is precious."

She wanted me to get the full impact, so she had restored the scene to the way she found it. When I opened the drawer, I could think of only one thing:

"Eric, can you bring your camera to the kitchen?"

Photographic evidence is the only way to adequately document the devastation. Eric has two photos on his blog, but I'll try to use less than 1,000 words to convey the scene.

At first glance, the drawer looked to be full of crushed ice. But in the front of the drawer lay the eviscerated remains of a Sprite Zero. The random temperature variation apparently caused the contents to freeze, thus expanding the liquid and turning it into ice. The expansion caused the can to erupt. (Science, right?) It was split from the rim all the way to the middle of the bottom. I briefly considered holding onto the can -- until I realized the top edges were a trip to the ER waiting to happen.

Instead, we emptied the drawer, washed off the sticky remains and relocated the remaining cans. I opted not to recycle the remains for fear of inflicting a mortal wound on someone, so I wrapped the can and left it layin' a-corpse in the trash can.

Being a Professional Journalist and Highly Trained Writer, I immediately began to think of ways to retell the discovery in the crisper. I came up with a pop culture (puns abound) reference and dubbed the can a casualty of the cola wars.

Look out, Pepsi. The Sprites are recruiting reinforcements among Kim's supplies. I think the gremlins are laying in stocks of ordnance.

This could get ugly.