Homemade Applesauce

Yes, I love to cook, and foods made from fresh fruit and veggies from the local farm markets, or even a good supermarket, beats anything store-bought hands-down.

Why waste your money on food laden with chemicals and preservatives when you can do so much better at home? Plus, if you have little ones in your home, they can help peel, sort, grate and stir, and then when they are older they will enjoy cooking their own meals.

Trust me, it works. My son was an ace at fried chicken, rice and veggies: and he learned to cook all the foods to be table-ready at the same time. I confess, I did push many meals on him until he caught wise and protested. However, he is self-sufficient in the kitchen and has surpassed me cooking on the BBQ!

Homemade Applesauce

A crockpot works best, as this sauce needs to simmer for several hours as the apples cook down and soften up. When they are fully cooked and mushy, a hand-held potato masher or an immersion blender works equally well: Ignore the lumps, a little texture is good. (Don’t worry about substituting Macintoshes or any other apple, or even throwing in some pears, these are my preferences and are readily available in my local supermarkets.)

Ingredients:

• 6-8 Gallo Apples
• 6-8 Green Apples
• 1 cup Water (experiment with Cranberry Juice, Apple Cider or even a little Orange Concentrate)
• 2-3 tablespoon Brown Sugar
• 1 tablespoon Cinnamon (or more to taste)
• ½ teaspoon salt

Slice and dice all apples into chunks (about half the size of your thumb)

If you leave the skin on the apples, be sure to slice any chunks with skin into slivers. The skin of the apple does not always break down completely and it could be choking hazard.

Place all ingredients into crockpot and stir well.

Let cook on medium 3-4 hours, stirring often.

When apples are mushy, turn off the crockpot and let cool before mixing, to avoid any splatters that could burn.

When cooled, use a potato masher, or immersion blender and mix well, then refrigerate in an air-tight container.

This will keep for 2 weeks in your refrigerator and makes a wonderful side dish for all meals, particularly roast pork or pork chops.

Enjoy!

Including the Kitchen Sink!

This day was so physically exhausting I was a @$@#$ zombie by dinnertime.

My day started very early: I drove a tenant to the hospital for some tests, stopped at the store, did five loads of wash, then drove back to hospital to picked up the tenant at the hospital. Who by the way, wasn't even ready when I was called to come get him, I had to physically hunt for him around multiple lobbies (but that is another blog).

Later we had a repair scheduled up on the third floor: Since this was a new contractor, I needed to stay close by to evaluate his work, plus help bring him supplies.

This was not a good day to wear clogs!

I learned that wearing clogs was not the smartest choice of footwear while trekking up and down three flights of stairs between the storeroom in the back and the apartment up top:

• Down to the first floor workrooms to hunt for trim, and then hike back up;
• Trek back down to hunt for caulk, and then hike back up;
• Trek back down again for vacuum, and then hike back up;
• Trek back down again for paint, and then hike back up;
• Trek back down again for QuikCret, and then hike back up;

That night my calves ‘felt the burn’ and I decided I don’t ever need to join a gym.

Somewhere in between, I convinced Mr.-I'm-In-Charge to finally remove all the @#$#@$ storm doors that he had jammed under the stairwells and every #$#$ corner of the laundry room. (Tenants do not need to be looking at junk stored under exposed stairwells.) For some reason when I stated that I would walk across the street and ask the neighbor to come pick up the scrap metal, he went into action. THAT was a huge accomplishment.

Of course, while trekking up and down, other tenants stopped me to chat, and asked for a cigarette. Do I look like a vending machine?!

And yes, these forays into madness literally did include ditching the kitchen sink that had been rotting in the furnace room.

When this day was done, my brother-in-law took one look at my exhaustion and suggested Taco Bell for dinner. As much as the offer was appreciated, my first thought was, “Crap, I gotta drive?”

However, you gotta admit, driving in an air-conditioned car to pick up Taco Bell is far better than foraging in the fridge for a quick meal—then cooking it!

‘Twas a looong day, new contractor did an outstanding job, outside is looking spiffy with the junk removed, and of course, the pretty flowerpots are blooming all around the parking lot: so much was accomplished.

I just need to get in touch with my feminine self and go get a manicure, and perhaps a glass of wine!

Reasons to Clean Those Gutters

These pictures really don’t need a whole lot of introduction: If you don’t clean your gutters, they become clogged with crap and create mind-boggling planters dangling from your roof. This will truly add great value to your home. Ha!

Serendipity, I just happened to pull into a parking lot, looked up at the jungle, and clicked away with the camera/cell phone.

Homeowners and building managers are now cringing looking at those trees growing in the gutters. Sigh.

Hey, does anyone remember cameras with film? Instamatics? Polaroids? Ya’ know, BEFORE digital stuff and cell phone apps?

For that matter does anyone remember film and having to send away rolls of film for developing, then waiting 10 days to see if ANYTHING worthwhile was in that packet of pictures? If so, you were born BEFORE 1990.

A Temp Job Horror Story

Several years ago, a girlfriend had met this wonderful man on line and began dating him: He was a lawyer with a home office. Since I freelance, she called me and asked if I was interested in picking up some typing and transcription work, which of course, I was.

The Warning Signs:

First Flag: She told me that he had trouble keeping a legal secretary. Odd, Jersey has had a high unemployment rate for several years now.

Second Flag: When I spoke with the lawyer, he did not want to see my resume, nor care to discuss my skills. Really, any warm body will do?

Third Flag: The lawyer would not discuss money over the phone.

Whoa! Legal transcription is NOT minimum wage, but I planned on clearly discussing such basics when we met at his office.

Fourth Flag: He was emphatic, demanding and anal that I should be there promptly at 9 a.m., ready to work.

Fifth Flag: I Googled him, this lawyer was fined several years ago, but reinstated.

The Horror:

I found his house/office. A one-story bungalow, faded green siding, dirt front yard/parking lot, rimmed by overgrown trees, shrubs, weeds, and many of them brown—dead.

There were two unmarked and filthy doors, flanked by windows with crap stacked behind the glass.

Door #1: I knocked. No answer. I went in.

I was not prepared for what I saw. I walked into what had been a custom kitchen; I could see the skylights and some oak cabinets. However, the room was swarming with flies and plastic and paper grocery bags were on every flat surface and strewn across the floor. I could not even discern where the sink or stove were located.

I backed out.

Door #2: Was a louvered glass door, the glass was caked in black filth, but an “Office” sign was dimly visible. Again I knocked. Again no answer, so I went in.

Outside of a cop show, I have NEVER seen nor expected this! It was a, long, dark narrow room, rimmed with ugly metal desks, each desk, each bookcase, each gap between them was stacked with brown, legal binders. Folders were jammed chest high, and some had toppled over to the desks. The rug was worn through to the wood below.

It stank of mildew, a vile dank and musty smell.

I kept calling the man’s name as I walked around.

Finally, I was back in the kitchen, and to the right I saw a bedroom with a man’s naked legs among the twisted blankets. That room had clothes flung everywhere: dressers, chairs, floors and that bedding looked grey and dingy.

I stepped back and called his name, again.

This time he answered and slurring his words, demanded to know who I was.

Told him that I was Rose’s friend.

He asked if Michelle was here.

I replied, “No one is here.”

Here’s where it gets weirder: .

He began barking work instructions to me.

Oh hell no!.

I stated: “I cannot work for you.”

The Lawyer: “Why not?”

Me: “The flies, the filth, the stench.”

I bolted out the door, jumped into my car and sped around the corner.

I called Rose to warn her. She didn’t believe me.

I called another friend, I was actually crying and she calmed me down.

A Poor Conclusion:

My girlfriend continued to date him and make excuses for him: That I came too early and that he took care of the flies. This is why Battered Women’s shelters will never close.

I spoke casually with a church friend who is in the legal field, and the odds of getting such a lawyer shut down were slim.

I would sleep in my car before taking such a job.

Friendship with this woman faded away, we’ve not even reconnected on social websites.

The Great Dog Poop Drama

Alice’s Restaurant

This drama can only be compared to the ballad, “Alice’s Restaurant” by the great balladeer Arlo Guthrie. Those of us who remember the 60’s will still laugh at mere memory of the great lyrics, and a short movie was made from this song. Either way, follow the link to YouTube; there are many versions besides this one to pick from. Enjoy.

But onto The Great Dog Poop Drama!

The players are: the Drunk; the Meddlesome Woman (hereinafter called MW); and Dog Owner #1 and Dog Owner #2.

The Drunk came through my door, very angry: “I just got a call from MW that there is dog poop outside my door and in the laundry room!” Then demanded repeatedly that I need to come down and look at it!

Really? Do you think I have some forensic ability to examine the dog poop and decide which dog did the deed?

Then a long-winded unnecessary side tale about his girlfriend, wearing flip-flops stepped in it, but she left those shoes outside his door.

Well, at least she demonstrated common sense.

Me, at the stove cooking dinner: “Why is MW calling you with this problem? We are both home. I am sorry, but we have not had this problem for several years. Take this bag (I handed him a poop bag) and just pick it up.”

Readers, the anger, shock, and disdain on his face was worth the price of admission!

He stormed out.

Minutes later Dog Owner #1 came in: She also received a called from MW.

The Drunk stormed back into my apartment.

Me: “Don’t you barge into my home without so much as knocking.”

The Drunk actually stepped back and sarcastically knocked on my door.

Words were exchanged between Dog Owner #1 and the Drunk.

Me, to the Drunk: “Do not tell me that you called this woman!”

Angry words to me: The Drunk began arguing about the parking (he doesn’t OWN a car) and then he dropped the N* word! (Yeah readers, THAT reprehensible one!)

My brother-in-law ordered him out.

Dog Owner #2 called and offered to pick up the poop. I told her not to, and asked who called her about this drama?

You guessed it, MW.

Conclusion

So one tenant, with way too much time on her hands, called some tenants and wound them up. The Drunk is still ignoring me (darn), the MW actually smiled and tried to chat with me (hell no), Dog Owner #1 and #2 went on their way (as it should have been).

The alliances among the discontented ones will always change, and two of them are the Garden Grinches.

Be grateful. Be kind. Never know what changes tomorrow will bring. What a sad life the Grinches of this world have, they cannot buy themselves a decent heart or enjoy the gifts that life brings us everyday day!

And my dinner was delicious without further drama.

C’est le vie.