Author Archives: Kerry Ann

Ham, Apple, and Brie Quesadillas

Brunch . . . I never know quite what to make. Sometimes my blood sugar levels have dropped because I’ve skipped the “official” breakfast, so I crave muffins or scones. More often I want something savory— real food— not some frou-frou dish.

I decided to do a combination of sweet and (mostly) savory for a weekday brunch with old friends. Sweet-tart apples with savory rosemary ham melted together with some creamy brie . . . good stuff. I make this dish for an easy dinner (paired with a spinach salad) also, and it’s always a hit at this house. (Anything inside a tortilla is considered a taco by the kiddo, so he dubs this dish “fancy tacos.”) Would also make an easy appetizer. Very versatile.

Turns out my cats wanted to eat this stuff just as much as I did—not sure if it was the ham or the brie, but I had to break out the spray bottle to keep the monsters away.

ham, apple, and brie quesadillas, brunch, appetizer recipes

Ham, Apple, and Brie Quesadillas

2 tsp. Dijon mustard
2 tsp. apricot preserves
6 flour tortillas
1 large apple (cored and cut into 1/4 inch slices)
6 slices good quality ham (I love the Rosmarino found at Costco)
6 oz. wedge of brie
a handful of fresh spinach (optional)
non-stick cooking spray

Mix Dijon and preserves in a small bowl. Set aside. {Save any leftovers for dipping sauce if desired.}
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Cut the rind from the brie. Slice wedge into 1/4 inch slices. {Stick the wrapped wedge into the freezer for 20 minutes or so first to make slicing easier.}
Cover your largest cookie sheet with aluminum foil to make clean up a breeze. Spray foil with non-stick cooking spray. Lay tortillas on cookie sheet, making sure at least half of each is on sheet.
Add about half a teaspoon of Dijon/apricot sauce to each tortilla—spread over half.
Layer a slice of ham on top.

Cover ham with layers of spinach, apples, then brie.

Fold other half on top. Bake for about 4 minutes or until bottom side browned to your liking.
Using a large spatula, flip each quesadilla. Bake for another 3-4 minutes.
Cool slighly, cut into wedges {pizza cutter works well}.
Enjoy!

Makes 6 main course (along with a salad) servings. More for appetizers.

In Case You Missed It

Holiday Recipes: Brandied Cranberry Apple Pie and Classic Sage Stuffing

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When Unilever asked me to share two of my favorite holiday recipes using I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter, knew exactly which treats I’d dish up. One is a recipe which has been passed down for generations, my family’s Classic Sage Stuffing. Trust me, you will never want to eat that nasty stuffing from a box again. The recipe is simple, budget-friendly, and can easily be doubled or halved depending on how large your family gathering may be this year.
I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to divulge my famous Brandied Cranberry Apple Pie recipe. Sweet apples mixed with tart cranberries and a luxurious layering of rich brandy finished with a crumb topping — you will never look at a plain apple pie again. It’s that good.

Brandied Cranberry Apple Pie

Ingredients:

1 frozen/refrigerated deep dish pie crust

Filling:

2 1/4 pounds apples peeled, cored, and thinly sliced (I prefer a mix of Granny Smith and Gala, but use any variety you prefer)
1 cup dried cranberries
2/3 cup sugar
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon clove
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/2 {generous} tablespoons brandy*

Topping:

2 tablespoons I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter Spread, butter, or margarine
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup brown sugar
sprinkle of cinnamon
Directions:

Follow pie crust thawing instructions. Or, if you insist, make your own single pie crust.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
For filling: mix sugar, 3 tablespoons flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and cranberries in a large bowl. Add in apples and toss to coat. Mix in vanilla and brandy, combining thoroughly.
Spoon mixture into pie crust. Gently press down with spoon to pack apples together. Mound slightly in the center.

For topping: in a separate bowl, combine 1/2 cup flour, brown sugar, and a pinch of cinnamon (if desired). Using a pastry cutter or two forks, cut in the 2 cold tablespoons of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Spoon mixture over pie filling, covering completely up to the edge of the crust. You may gently pat down to even out the crumbs. With a knife, poke a small slit in the center of the topping so steam can escape while baking.
I recommend placing pie on a cookie sheet, as the filling sometimes oozes out a bit. Cover the edge of the crust with aluminum foil. Bake at 375 degrees for 25 minutes. Remove foil from crust. Bake pie 35 minutes more.
Cool on a wire rack. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Topping Suggestions: I am an à la mode girl, and I usually top a slice of warm pie with ice cream: eggnog is my favorite, but vanilla or butter pecan blend deliciously as well. You can also top with whipped cream.

*You can omit the brandy, but I highly recommend you include it as it adds an amazingly rich layer of flavor. Don’t worry, the alcohol bakes out. You can also substitute Cognac or Bourbon.

Classic Southern Sage Stuffing

Makes 8 to 10 servings, but this recipe can easily be doubled or halved.

Ingredients:

8 cups white bread crumbs (crust on)*

1 cup I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter spread
2 onions diced
6 stalks of celery chopped
3/4 teaspoon marjoram
3/4 teaspoon pepper
2 teaspoons salt
2 1/4 teaspoons sage
2 eggs
2/3 cup chicken broth

Instructions:

*To make the breadcrumbs: Use slightly stale (NOT moldy) white bread. Hamburger buns also work. If bread is very fresh, spread on a cookie sheet and bake in a slow oven (200 degrees) until slightly dry. Cool. Slice bread into roughly 1/4 inch cubes. Do not chop in a food processor as the crumbs will be too small and the stuffing will not firm up. 1 cup fresh breadcrumbs = approx. 3 slices bread. (Can be prepped days ahead.)

To make the stuffing: In a large skillet, melt I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter spread. Add onions and celery. Saute until translucent, about 10 to 15 minutes.

In a large bowl, mix together bread crumbs and seasonings. Pour in all sauteed onions, celery, and remaining I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter. Mix.
In a separate small bowl, beat the eggs then add chicken broth (make sure broth is not hot). Add to bread crumbs and veggie mix. Combine thoroughly.
Spoon stuffing into a greased casserole and bake (uncovered) for 35- 45 minutes at 325 degrees or until top is lightly browned. (In my family, we cook it longer and fight over the crispy edges.) Note: this stuffing is pretty flexible, and it will cook at whatever temperature your turkey or other dishes require.
Though I prefer baking the stuffing on its own, you can also stuff this mix into a 5 – 10 pound turkey (double for a 11 – 20 pound bird) and bake according to the directions (on bird). Stuff the bird just before placing it in the oven and remove all the stuffing when bird is cooked.

Leftovers (on the slight chance that any remain) can be frozen.

Thank you to Good to Know & Unilever Spreads for being a sponsor. I was selected for this opportunity as a member of Clever Girls Collective. All opinions expressed here are my own.

Review: The Serpent’s Ring by H.B. Bolton

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“Evan, an enormous flying fish swooped down and stole the Serpent’s Ring from your arm. We are in a Model T with an imp, and the sky is tangerine with rainbow-colored clouds. Humor me, and try to move this blasted car with your mind!” said Claire, grabbing Evan’s shirt collar. “If you don’t, I will make your life miserable. Got it?”

Evan and Claire Jones are typical teenagers, forced to go with their parents to yet another boring museum…that is, until something extraordinary happens to make their day a little more than interesting. After following a strange little creature into a closed exhibit, Evan and his older sister, Claire, discover the Serpent’s Ring, one of the magical relics formed from the shattered Mysticus Orb. Purely by accident, they have awakened its powers and opened a portal to Sagaas, Land of the Ancient Gods.

Before the siblings can comprehend what has happened, the Serpent’s Ring is wrenched from Evan’s hand by and enormous bird and flown back to Aegir, the Norse God of the Sea. Evan and Claire, accompanied by a band of unlikely heroes, must retrieve the Serpent’s Ring before Aegir uses its immense powers to flood all the lands on Earth.

Let me start by mentioning this is a middle grade (ages 8 to 12) book. That being noted, even though I happen to have a middle grade reader running around my house, I don’t read any of his books. With the exception of the Harry Potter series (which ends being more YA) I don’t think I’ve read a middle grade book in thirty years. And even then, I didn’t read fantasy (yes, I was the freaky book lover who hated A Wrinkle in Time—you may hurl virtual books at me now).

All that said, I enjoyed reading The Serpent’s Ring. It was a quick and easy read (obviously, as I’m not the target market) full of action, adventure, and some cool mythology.

The story moves quickly. Once fourteen-year-old Evan stumbles upon a strange critter hiding under the eves of Dr. Irvings residence in the historic Greenfield Village, things are never the same. He found the Serpent’s Ring, a key that can be used to unlock Jormundang, the sea serpent who holds the world in his balance. He and his older sister, Claire, fly in a Model T with an imp to the magical world of Sagaas on a quest to save the world.

The story mostly follows the classic hero’s tale format:

A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man.

While many stories deal with Greek and Roman mythology, Bolton takes us to a world where Norse gods and goddesses rule. Honestly, most of my Norse knowledge comes from the Avengers and Thor movies. It was intriguing to learn about the sea goddesses Ran, who rips sailors from the sea with her magic net, and watch Claire develop crush on Sigurd, the legendary hero.

Both teens discover they have magical powers: Evan can make things fly with his power of telekinesis and Claire learns to shape ordinary objects into whatever she desires via transfiguration. Every kid wants to create glass ships and fly, right? The relationship between the siblings was fun to read and reminded me of The Magic Treehouse‘s Jack and Annie—only a couple of years older.

The Serpent’s Ring should be a fun read for 8 to 12-year-olds. While many girls may enjoy the tales of dragons, mermaids, trolls, and angry sea gods, I think those characters will attract boys more. I can’t wait to pass this along to my little reader. He’s been dying to get his hands on it since he spied the gorgeous cover.

I’m looking forward to the next book in the Relics of Mysticus series, The Trixter’s Totem.

The Serpent’s Ring (Relics of Mysticus, #1)
by H.B. Bolton
{ebook currently on sale for $2.99 or FREE to Amazon Prime members}

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

H.B. Bolton also writes women’s fiction under the name Barbara Brook. (Read my review of her novel Glimmers here.)

**I received a copy of this book from the author, whom I am pleased to say I know IRL.

In Case You Missed It …

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Okay, so I missed Monday. And ICYM TUESDAY just doesn’t have the same alliterative ring to it, so just deal. Here’s my roundup of the most interesting, informative, and entertaining post for writers and bloggers. Enjoy.

Jane Friedman, former publisher of Writer’s Digest, has one of the best blogs for writers period. Recently, she spent the day on Reddit’s AMA (Ask Me Anything) board. The wealth of information she shared (from agents to e-books and everything in between) is astounding. If you are an aspiring writer/editor, this is a must read. Too many links to mention. Go. See. Learn.

Kristen Lamb, the self-proclaimed Social Media Jedi for Writers, sets the record straight about 3 Social Media Myths that can cripple our platform. (Hint: tweeting and blogging about things besides writing is GOOD.) I still need to pick up copies of her best-selling books We Are Not Alone–The Writer’s Guide to Social Media and Are You There, Blog? It’s Me, Writer .

Tracy Garvis Graves, author of the bestseller On the Island, rose from self pub fame to a double book deal. She finally posted her Self Publishing FAQ. If you’re even considering going the self pub route, give this a read. Pay attention.

Need some ideas? Need to know if your brainstorm is a boring cliche or trope? (Tropes are devices and conventions that a writer can reasonably rely on as being present in the audience members’ minds and expectations.) TV Tropes is a running list of all things trope. Their Literature section breaks down tropes by era, genre, region, and language.

Here are 8 underused structures you can use to craft attention-grabbing blog posts (and to stand out from fellow bloggers in your field). Why not pick one to try this week? Via SEOJoe

Ever consider throwing a book party? From invites to supplies and what to do with the kiddos, Nichole Bernier shares her secrets on How to Throw a Book Party That Rocks via Beyond the Margins

Sarah Pinneo, author of Julia’s Child, explains why pitching, like taxes, is part of (the publishing) life via QueryTrackerBlog.

Do you sometimes find yourself salivating over foods in your favorite books? Quirkbook.com listed 10 of their favorite foods from lit you can actually make yourself. (If you want an entire cookbook filled with treats inspired by favorite novels pick up The Book Club Cookbook —reviewed here.)

And I know we are all SO OVER politics and feel as if reading one more article or post could send us over the edge—but this one made me laugh and just nod my head yes. This. Letter to future Republican strategist regarding white people by Eric Garland.

Source: goinswriter.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

This Chick Still Doesn’t Get RUSH

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I’ve tried. I swear to the Rock Gods, I’ve tried. It took twelve years of marriage for a guy to finally drag me to a Rush show. Every guy I’ve ever dated worshiped upon the power trio’s altar, owned all their albums, saw them in concert every time they toured. I just can’t get into their music.

Since I LOVE going to concerts—seeing musicians transform their passions into sound, feeling the music, the energy—I thought perhaps if I saw them play live I may understand the devotion they sir in their ~~thousands~~ millions of fans. Male fans.

Last weekend I journeyed to their show (through two hours of gridlock) with an open heart, an open mind, and a big ass beer in my hand.

After seeing them live I can officially declare I still don’t dig them.

You want proof Rush is a guy band?

This. This is AN EMPTY RESTROOM. AT A CONCERT. They do exist.

Yes, it’s the ladies room. The men’s line wrapped around the building.

I’ve waited upwards of a half hour for a chance at one of those usually nasty stalls. Dave Matthews Band, NIN, Jane’s Addiction—I’d spent enough time in line to learn the life stories of the women around me while we stood with our legs crossed trying to look cool and not do the dance.

There may have been ten girls at the show. Okay, maybe a fifty. Out of thousands of rabid fans. To the point I stopped in front of one and said, “Oh look, there IS another woman here.” She just half-smiled and looked at her watch like she was ready to go.

And if you ever need an ego boost, go to a Rush show. The other women wore old ~~vintage~~ holey T-shirts (like my hubby). They hadn’t updated their jeans (ripped, stonewashed, high-waisted, relaxed fit) or their hair (mullets. many of them.) since they started going to shows thirty years ago.

I saw no pairs or groups of women. They all came with their male counterparts. Yet I’ve never seen so many guys together on dates in my life. No, nothing romantic (a gay guy would NEVER be seen in public dressed so tastelessly). Bromance hung heavy in the air: male bonding at its finest. Their wives/significant others were smart enough to stay away.

So why don’t women get Rush? Since I was not “at one” with the music, I had plenty of time to reflect while I people-watched and sipped beer. Each member of the Canadian power trio does show mastery of their instruments. They wove complex harmonies—perhaps too complex? The songs (with the exception of a few hits like Tom Sawyer and Closer to the Heart) just don’t have enough melody. There’s nothing to hum or sing. Thousands of old guys playing air guitar and air drum solos—hells yeah—but the sound is just too tangled. Forget being something to dance to, there’s not even a steady enough drum beat to swing a hip to.

The lyrics are intelligent tirades, some nearly poems (seriously: they quote literature, even Shakespeare) but they are utterly lacking in emotion. Yes, I’m generalizing, but most girls don’t dig songs about robots.

Okay, and for some women it may be a question of sex appeal:

I don’t know if this album cover is supposed to make them look sexy and brooding, like porn stars or Jedis. But there are plenty of bands where the singers are not the slightest bit attractive (have you seen Marilyn Manson?) but they just exude . . . something. Rush’s music is utterly asexual. Once again: robots over romance.

To be fair, I skipped a hunk of the show. Some drunk-assed baby boomer MAN knocked my FULL 24-ounce beer all over me. Yes, he was apologetic. Yes, he bought me a new one then found another patch of grass to pollute. But I was still soaked. And pissed. Though the bathroom WAS empty, I still couldn’t shower the stink off, so I wandered and tweeted.

I returned home smelling like a frat house couch: an eau d’ stale beer, various smokes, and testosterone. At least Hubby had a EPIC time. ::sigh:: The things we do for love.

Have you ever been dragged to a concert you didn’t like?

mullet photo credit: SeymourSolo via photopin cc

concert photo credit: wvs via photopin cc

Review: Man in the Blue Moon by Michael Morris

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Ella Wallace is sinking faster than a brick-bound body in a Florida swamp. Her opium-addicted husband, Harlan, ran off leaving her with three boys to raise, a county store to run, and a second mortgage she didn’t sign for and can’t pay. This is no great surprise to many townsfolk in the panhandle town of Dead Springs; they’d been waiting for her fall since she threw away her chance to study art in Europe and made that charming scoundrel her husband.

There’s something special about Ella’s land, the only thing she has left from a family long gone. The unscrupulous banker who holds the mortgage thinks so, too. There’s an old spring bubbling up on the back of her property, and the local Indians believe it may have some special healing properties. Enter a big time evangelist itching to build a retreat to help heal his sickly, wealthy wife. Some men will do anything to make a hearty profit in a hardscrabble town.

On the verge of financial and emotional collapse, Ella gambles on a special delivery her husband arranged before going AWOL, and sets of a chain of events testing her faith in everything she’d ever known. When the mysterious Lanier Stillis, claiming to be her husbands relation, suddenly appears on the scene, no one quite knows quite what to do with him. Women on their own don’t take in strange men, especially when those men are on the run and tainted or blessed with some peculiar powers. But Ella needs any break she can get, and with Lanier’s help she fights to save her family and her land.

****

As a native Floridian, I gravitate towards any book set in this colorful, often corruptible state. Dead Springs, set just outside the then busy port town Apalachicola, exemplifies Old Florida. It’s Southern to the core, filled with honest folks, scoundrels, and those just scraping by working the soggy land.

Setting is often a character. In Man in the Blue Moon, Morris intimately captures the languid sway of Spanish moss in a breath of breeze, the sodden weariness after working in the brutal heat of a late-summer day, the complex organic scent of a cypress swamp after a storm. He puts you there.

Southern fiction has a tendency to move slowly, yet Morris manages to propel the reader on currents of suspense, drama, and some curious elements of mysticism. While some characters at first exemplify the archetypes of the time (the no-good husband, single schoolmarm, small-minded sheriff), Morris rounds them out and captures their weariness and hopes as they rebel against circumstance. And I couldn’t help rooting for the tenacious Ella, a strong mother fighting for what is hers, on a quest to banish the snakes from her Eden.

Man in the Blue Moon is a beautifully rendered a turn of the century tale, vivid in colors and contrasts, so rich you feel as your sitting around a campfire fire listening to a master storyteller spin a yarn.

Southern Grit Lit at its finest. Read it.

Man in the Blue Moon
by Michael Morris
$13.99 [paperback] $3.99 [Kindle]
Tyndale House Publishers
400 pages

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

Man in the Blue Moon is the November She Reads Book Club selection. If you’d like to win a signed copy of the novel or a “blue moon” necklace head over and comment or join in the book club conversation. For more about Michael Morris, links to other blogger’s reviews of the book, or suggestions for other great reads visit SheReads.org.
*I received this book courtesy of Tyndal House Publishers and the She Reads Blogger Network. All opinions are my own.

Healthy Pumpkin Pineapple Mini Muffins

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Somehow November is upon us. Between brutal storms, wicked weather, and Halloween partying (if you were lucky) October sneaked out the back door. But no worries—it’s still pumpkin season until that last slice of Thanksgiving pumpkin pie disappears.

Remember when I told you I’d find a use for that leftover cup of canned pumpkin from the Pumpkin Poke Cake with Cheesecake Pudding? {If not LOOK HERE NOW.}

We already had a luscious pumpkin dessert, so how about some muffins? We are mini muffin addicts around here. They’re perfect for snacking, lunch boxes, freezing, and quick breakfasts. they are so moist that you don’t need to waste time buttering them or adding any toppings. Two-bite perfection!

Healthy PumpkinPineapple

Snack Muffins

INGREDIENTS

	1 1/2 cups flour
	1 tsp baking powder
	1 tsp baking soda
	1/2 tsp cinnamon
	1/4tsp nutmeg
	1/4tsp ground ginger
	1 large egg
	1/2cup packed brown sugar

	1 cup pumpkin
	3/4 cup pineapple (chopped or crushed, but if you use canned, drained)

INSTRUCTIONS

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Coat mini muffin tins with cooking spray.
Whisk dry ingredients (flour, baking powder, baking soda, & spices) .
Mix wet ingredients in a separate bowl (egg, brown sugar, pumpkin, pineapple).
Mix together wet and dry ingredients until just combined.
Spoon into mini muffin tins (I highly recommend using a cookie scoop) and bake 11 minutes until lightly browned.
Cool on wire rack.

It just doesn’t get much easier than that.

In Case You Missed It Monday

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Source: opcf.tumblr.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

Hunker down in a bookstore: official Hurricane Sandy shelter?

If you take a break from storm/cold front/election coverage, here are some of the most helpful and inspiring blog posts of last week.

Food for Thought

Barbara O”Neal shares her wisdom about learning to let go of worry and accepting ourselves, flaws and all.

Has the constant cool detachment of the internet age ironically rendered us unable to form “real” relationships? via Thought Catalog

Writing Life

The always informational Chuck Sambuchino gives us stats—REAL numbers about Building Your Writer Platform — How Much is Enough? via Writer Unboxed

How to pitch like a Rock Star via Heather Webb

How to make a clip list for freelance writing by Gigi Ross (aka Kludgy Mom)

Blogging

Why you should have a blogger media kit even if you don’t have much traffic & great how-to advice by Katy Widrick

Big Screen

I’m still trying to imagine the surreal Life of Pi brought to the big screen. The trailer is amazing. Martel: Life of Pi ‘stunning’ film version of book via the Chronicle Herald

Salman Rushdie’s ‘Midnight’s Children’ comes to screens [Video]via LA Times

A darker, seemingly less snarky Iron Man 3 trailer hits via Mashable

Source: authoroutfitters.com via Vinobaby on Pinterest

Now I must go bury myself in my manuscript. Stay safe out there everyone. See you on the flip side.

Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Mouse?

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If you want to hear me ~~scream like a little girl~~ screech like a ax murder popped up from under the bed, just be in within my zip code when I step on a rodent.

Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.
It all started with a scratch, scratch, scratch in the middle of the night a few weeks earlier…

I shot up in bed. A branch scraping on the window? Scurry, scrape, scratch, bang! . . . right above my head. Something had invaded my attic crawlspace. Hubby grabbed a broom and banged at the ceiling while I cowered under the sheets.

Let’s be clear: this is NOT my typical behavior. I don’t mind the creatures most people freak out over. I catch and release spiders, lizards, and frogs when they make their way indoors. I watch bees with curiosity, not fear. I get excited each time I find a snake in the yard. (I once doubled over laughing when a baby snake slithered up my son’s leg into his bathing suit. They both lived.)

I simply do not do rodents.

Ugh…I get shivers just typing that word.

Yet rodents have invaded MY domain.


photo credit: Thomas Hawk via photopin cc

Okay, so they probably look more like:

After nights of torment, weeks of hearing those creatures squatting in MY home, I sent the hubby into the attic to do something. He squeezed through the hot crawlspace like a caver and found…nothing. Well, an area that may have been a nest (I couldn’t handle the details) so he sealed up any holes in the eaves and we crossed our fingers they wouldn’t return.

Banished from the attic, they took over the yard.

We have a lovely little backyard, and the Sunshine State’s balmy weather allows us to make use of it year round. Unless there are rodents.

I saw the first one scurrying along the beam on the edge of the hedge. Was that a squirrel with a birth defect? A baby possum? A ginormous insect? (Seriously possible— we have roaches/palmetto bugs the size of kittens here.) Each evening, right before dusk, I’d spot a dark blur jetting across the periphery of the yard before it disappeared into the thick tropical elephant ear philodendrons. As they leaped atop the retaining wall I spied that long, hairless tail.

Chills crawled up my neck. I wondered if I could buy snakes wholesale.

Hubby investigated and unearthed a warren of holes under our greenery. I tried not to puke. We thinned out the plants, filled in the tunnels with dirt, and bought rodent bait. Guilt weighed me down. I don’t kill wasps when they get trapped inside. I cry when the cats mangle an innocent lizard. And here I was ordering the deaths if a family of . . .eeewww, nasty creatures that could NOT get back inside my home. This was war. There would be casualties.

The poison package informed us that our problem critters would be soaring though the big cheese in the sky within about a week. Each morning hubby patrolled the yard, checking for bodies. He never found any.

I found each one.

Snipped some herbs. Dead mouse. Watered a plant. Dead mouse. I flung the watering can aside, ran indoors, and drew the blinds. Not my job. Hubby could have some presents when he arrived home.

I should have just stayed inside for the rest of the week, but like the chick in slasher movies who HAS to go into the dark basement when there’s a killer/monster/giant rodent on the loose, I tempted fate. I went back into the garden alone.

My anniversary fell on a lovey spring day. I ventured outside to check on my tomato seedlings and see if any of my peppers had sprouted. Hubby swore the coast was clear. I waltzed by the pool, enjoying the perfect weather and crossed to my veggie garden. Something soft, pliant, and NOT a stepping stone mushed under my foot. I screamed as if I had just fallen into a pit of knife-wielding evil clowns. I’m surprised the cops didn’t show up, guns drawn.

My husband, at least, came running. (If we hadn’t been dealing with a rodent problem, he probably would have come armed.) He knew not much could make me bellow such blood-curdling scream. Happy Anniversary.

The shoes were thrown away, the mouse dealt with, and I hid inside for a few weeks. The rodents were eradicated—for a while.

photo credit: Abe K via photopin cc

I think they’re back, but we’ve agreed to an uneasy truce. They stay outside, attempt to be stealthy, and stay out of my line of sight. I pretend they don’t exist and send the cats on patrol . . . for now . . .

Which creepy crawlies make you swat, shiver, or scream? What are you afraid of? Come on, share your story so I don’t feel like such a wimp, please?

PestWorld.org is your go-to resource for everything you need to know about bugs, rodents and other household pests. You can identify your infestation, find helpful prevention tips, pest photography and videos, educational articles on a variety of pest topics, and more.
In the fall, pests often enter our homes seeking shelter from colder weather, so it’s important to take steps to pest-proof your home. Pest issues are better handled by licensed pest professionals. They have the knowledge, training and tools to properly identify a pest species and recommend ways to safely remedy an infestation before it becomes a serious problem.

You can find a pest professional in your area by entering your zip code in the Find a Pro database on PestWorld.org: http://www.pestworld.org/find-a-pest-control-professional/.

This is a sponsored post written by me on behalf of the National Pest Management Association. The opinions and text are all mine.