As you may be aware, every now and then on Friday nights, I stroll around the house looking for some misplaced socks to photograph and put up on the blog.  It’s my old faithful.  My rock.  Need a blog post?  No fear, the socks will pull through.

Well earlier tonight was no different, as the boys headed off to bed, I spotted my 9-year-old son Sam’s socks perched on the arm of a chair in the basement.  I had my material.  Everything would be fine.  That’s when my world was rocked.  Returning to the basement with camera in hand, what did I see?  A chair sans socks.  My boy had picked up his clothes after all.  Hallelujah!

Where in the world are Sam’s socks?  Not here!  Miracles do happen.  #Proof

 

For three weeks, the cord for my cell phone kept falling between the cubicle wall and the desktop.  For three weeks, every morning I would crawl on my hands and knees to push the cord back up.  For three weeks, my bottom would be prominently displayed, as folks headed for their morning coffee.  For three weeks, the number of people heading for morning coffee steadily declined.  I had to do something.

Then after a few failed attempts (securing with a push pin…  fail…  anchoring with a bread bag twisty tie…  another fail), it struck me.  The big binder clip would be the key to success.  Victory!  Now, no more trips under the desk.  No more rump-sticking-outage.  “Good news, folks.  It’s safe again to get coffee!”

The mouse pad as a “cell phone vibration buffer.”  Another workplace innovation score.  I could not however figure out how to take a photo of the cell phone plugged in on the mouse pad, since I took the picture with the phone.  Humph, perplexing.  Finding a solution to that photo dilemma, that shall be my next innovation.  Look for it, as you get your next cup of coffee.

 

Finally, confirmation that I live in a zoo.

Signs warning us not to touch the wild animals.

 

10) Let me start out by saying, thank God that Charlene and Jacob are fine.

9) Also, thank God that Charlene did nothing, let me repeat, nothing wrong.

8) Let me continue by saying that, thank God we can afford quality auto insurance.

7) Thank God that Ford makes safe cars.  #Proof

6) The old Found On Road Dead (FORD) is supposed to be a slam, but you know what?  It was found on the road dead, because it sacrificed itself.  #ILoveMyFord

5) As I looked at all of the accident debris, I saw the Ford logo resting on the ground and thought, “Yep, ‘Built Ford tough.’”  #JobWellDone #GoodbyeMyFriend

4) We are not guaranteed tomorrow.  Love today.  Live today.  #Amen

3) Wine is a nice finish for a day such as today.  #TheTruth

2) Our beloved Taurus lived a long life.  At 14 years, it lived in three states.  Drove across half the country.  Drove a chunk of Route 66.  Saw 3 beloved boys grow up in its backseat.  #ItsAWonderfulLife

1) Sometimes accidents are just accidents.  Pure and simple.  You never know.  Thank God for today.  It’s a gift.  Enjoy it.  Embrace it.  Kiss someone you love.  You are blessed, indeed.

 

As my boys began to gather for dinner, I asked them with glee, “Boys, do you know what I almost forgot to do today?”  They paused and this was their fatal flaw.  Yes, when they hesitated, I sprung across the floor and did my best gymnastic leap across the kitchen.  Perhaps scaring, yes.  Perhaps confirming that I am in no shape for the Rio Olympics, definitely.

Sometimes life imitates art.  Take for instance, this cookie that I found at church refreshment hour and the www.CookiesbyDave.com logo.  Eerily similar.

Sometimes international relations imitate cookies.  Take for instance, shortbread is found in both France and Scotland.  Little known fact, the EU was originally proposed to unify cookies across Europe.  #TheTruth

Sit back and join me on a journey.  A journey across Europe.  A journey of shortbread.

The French entry.  A rolled cookie.  Round and somewhat complex.  Complete with an egg wash and lines from the tines of a fork.

The Scottish entry.  A bar cookie.  Square and somewhat simple.  Complete with sprinkled sugar and impressions from the tip of a fork.

Both shortbread.  Both European.  Both wonderful.  Enjoy!

FRENCH SHORTBREAD (a.k.a. Sablés)

10 Tablespoons Butter

½ cup Sugar

1 Egg

1 teaspoon Vanilla Extract

2 cups Flour

½ teaspoon Baking Powder

¼ teaspoon Salt

Egg Wash Ingredients

1 Egg

1 Tablespoon Heavy Whipping Cream

 

Cream butter and sugar.

Mix in egg and vanilla extract.

Mix in flour, baking powder, and salt.

Roll dough out to ¼ inch thick.

Cut into circle using a 2 inch diameter biscuit cutter.

Place circles of shortbread dough onto parchment paper lined baking sheets.

Use the tines of a fork to make a crisscross pattern on top of the shortbread circles.

Refrigerate for 45 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Prepare the egg wash by combining the egg and cream.

Brush over the top of the shortbread.

Bake for 12 minutes or until lightly browned around the edges.

 

Makes about 24 cookies.

Revised Source:  “Sablés” recipe on www.JoyofBaking.com.

 

SCOTTISH SHORTBREAD

1 cup Butter

¼ cup Powdered Sugar

¼ cup Sugar

2 teaspoons Vanilla Extract

1½ cups Flour

¼ teaspoon Salt

Sugar for sprinkling on top

 

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

Cream butter, powdered sugar, and sugar.

Mix in vanilla extract.

Mix in flour and salt.

Press dough into an ungreased 9”x9” square baking pan.

Sprinkle sugar on top.

Bake for 45 minutes or until lightly browned on top.

While cooling, cut into 25 squares and lightly poke a fork twice into the top of each square.  This will make a cute dot pattern on the shortbread.

Allow shortbread to finish cooling completely.

 

Makes 25 cookies.

Revised Source:  “Shortbread” recipe found on page 22 of my original cookie cookbook, “Today is a Great Day for a Cookie” (as always available for free download at www.CookiesbyDave.com).

 

There was something so primal in the act. Something universally liberating. Something that reached in and grabbed the core of human desire.

Chopping ice off the patio on a beautiful Spring day. Die Winter! Die!

 

Mild Sadness – Taking a 15 minute online training course at work.

Confused Sympathetic Sadness – A coworker mentions that the course took him well over an hour.

Disappointed Sadness – Realizing that you had accidently skipped the way too long test at the end of the course.

Ashamed Sadness – Scoring under the mandatory 75% on the test and knowing that you will have to retake it.

Pitiful Sadness – Your eyes opening to the fact that you inadvertently only took one 15 minute course and there are about a dozen more 15 minute components that now became painfully visible to you just now on the computer screen.

Sort-of-Justified in a Dufus-Sort-of-Way but-with-a-Pinch-of-Relief Sadness – Since you only took about 7% of the course, it explains your poor performance on the test.

Anticipation Sadness – Knowing 93% of the course and test will be waiting for me on Monday morning.

Coming-to-Terms Sadness – Recognizing that I probably need online training in how to effectively take online training. Just sad.

 

The boys were in the car ready to go. A little sleepy, but ready to go.  I hopped into the car, backed out of the garage, and headed toward their school.  Turning on the radio, what did I find?  A perfectly good “sing along song,” U2’s “One.”

As the car bounced along, the kids seemed in a hypnotic trance. Excellent conditions for me to launch into song.  Sadly however, after about a minute of driving and singing, I realized I was getting about half of the lyrics wrong.

“(Something, something)

One love,

One life,

(Something, something)

In the night

It’s one love

(Something, something)

(Oh why bother even trying, when you obviously don’t know the words)

…care for it.”

A horrible, horrible bit of karaoke. The kids seemed oblivious.  They bounced along in the back seat.  Little itty bitty lifeless zombies, trapped in their father’s nonsensical wrong lyrics Hell.

I could not take it any longer. I was driving even myself mad.  I could not nail a single line of the song.  I was floundering.  I was drowning.  My kids did not seem to notice.  They were silent.  I stopped singing.  The car was silent, with the exception of Bono.  He got all the words right.  I was all alone.  I was sad.

We drove along listening. It must have been a whole thirty seconds.  An eternity for me to stay silent.  Then came the chorus.  I listened, but I could not resist.  I had to try again.  I could do it.  I could be “One” with Bono.  My kids looked numb to it all.  Silent pain in their eyes.

“One” more try. Yes, I could do it.  I truly believed.  That’s when I did it, I hit the perfect notes, sang the perfect words…

“Have you come here for forgiveness?

Have you come to raise the dead?

Have you come here to play Jesus,

to the lepers in your head?”

Nailed it! More silence from the backseat.  A deafening absence of clapping.  They had witnessed an epic comeback that would long be remembered in the history of car sing-along solos, but my kids just wanted out of the car.  I was proud, they were lumps of unappreciative flesh.

“Bono, Bono, wherefore art thou Bono?”

 

When last we saw Office Worker Dave, he had sleeves that were way too short.  Ugh.

My wonderful wife came to the rescue and bought me a brand new extra long sleeve sweater.  I was happy.

Then I looked down and what did I see?  On my pants, lots of fuzzy.

Trust me, it’s there.  A blue hue on my khakis, true.  What’s a boy to do?

Well, first give up on the bad rhymes.  What?  All the time?

Yep, just wash the new sweater and pray.  That will be the only way.  Hey, hey.