Oreo cookie SUCCESS

A few days ago, I tried my hand at making these soaked whole wheat tortillas, which turned into a big time FAIL.   I couldn’t get the batter thin enough with it ripping to actually fry it.

BUT, tonight’s homemade Orea cookies were a SUCCESS and who need homemade tortillas, anyway? I’ll take oreo cookies over tortillas any day of the week.

Recipe from the delightful folks at the charming mag MaryJane’s Farm:

1.5 C flour (I used whole wheat pastry)
1/2 C unsweetend baking cocoa (I used carob powder)
1 t baking powder (aluminum free, natch)
1/4 t salt
1/2 c butter, softened
3/4 c sugar (I used sucanat)
2 eggs

1. oven at 350
2. mix all however you like best to mix; usually wet and dry and then both togeter
3. Roll dough on a floured counter to 3/16″ or the thickness you want for the cookies. Cut into the size circles your want for your cookies (they recommend 2″).  With pastry brush, dust off left-over flour from tops of cookies, then brush tops with warm water.
4. bake 15 mins.
5. fill with filling


1/2 butter
1 T vanilla
2 T cream or milk
3 c powdered sugar

Gluten free version:

subsitute 2 c white rice flour and use 1.5 t baking powder.

These are yummy.  Go check out MJF for other fun projects and recipes. (that’s my plug so they don’t yell at me for using their recipe without asking :S)

Next up:  Their Pumpkin Whoopie Pies


In a Pickle

Ditch Digging FAIL

Last week after a torrential downpour, The Fussypants’ garage flooded.  The Fussies went out the next morning after the rain during the night to standing water.


So, no big deal. The Fussies can dig a ditch, line it with perforated PVC and run it out into the yard.  POIFECT. A cunning plan.  Manual labor? No problem. Mrs Fussy Crankypants is good at digging, if she does say so herself. The Fussies can save a lot of money and have the satisfaction of DYThemselves.

Note the straightness of the line. Note the cunning slope. Note the catchment at the end to allow the water to have someplace to go.

But, alas:


with the same amount (or a little more) of water standing in there for the 3rd time in a week as Mrs Fussy types.

And probably again tomorrow.

The Fussy Crankypants contacted the sellers to find out how often this had happened to them. They said it happened ONE TIME in the 7 years they lived here.

It’s just the Fussy’s luck.

Fussy FAIL.


Your Hippopotamus Quote for the Day

Miles: I love hippopotamus.

Me: You love hippoptamus?

Miles: I love to hug hippopotamus.


And there you have it.

Baby Robins Wave Goodbye

I went out to check on the Baby Robins first thing this morning. Well, ALMOST first thing.

One little baby was out in the middle of the yard, a sitting duck. The other was nowhere to be seen.  The little one was headed toward the south side of the yard to the fence…and the shed where the snake lives. 😦

The Mama and Papa Robin have been around all day, though, so maybe at least one of the little buggers made it. For today.  Apparently most robins die their first year. And? It takes them 10 – 13 days after they jump the next before they can actually fly and be self-sufficient. That’s a lot of days to live on the ground when there are cats and snakes around.

I hope they make it.

Requiem for a Baby Robin

These past few weeks have been delightful watching the Mama Robin hatch her eggs.  We’ve been slightly inconvenienced by staying well away from the next. She in turn quickly became bold in her efforts to stay near the nest and, when the babies hatched, to feed them.

All day while we play outside we watch for the Mama Robin to come with her worms in her beak to feed the babies. Their little heads popping up so eagerly and, in the past few days, their little cheeps and chirps have been much louder and stronger and in fact, little room was left in the nest.

No room in the inn


Mama Robin bringing lunch


I took these pics tonight and within the hour, the babies must have left the nest.  Right after I came out from putting Miles to bed, there was a huge rucus outside. When we looked out, several of the babies were on the ground, fluttering madly and the Mama and Papa Robin were frantically calling.

Turns out the neighbors cat had come across and snatched away one of the fluffy babies, taking it back to her yard to crush its little head and tear apart its little baby body.  Of course, she probably played with it first.

So now I am shedding a few tears for the little fluffy cheap-y birdie whom we watched as it hatched and live out its first brief week. 

Poor baby. Poor mama.  Poor other little babies. Which cats will get them tonight, I wonder?

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