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Tuesday, May 24, 2016

The Bachelorette- Season JoJo - Episode 1

I wasn't even going to watch this season of Bachelorette. It's a dumb show. It's trash, in fact. There's no denying that. And from last season's ladies, JoJo wouldn't have been my pick for the lead. I didn't find her all that dynamic. She seemed friendly enough, and she's attractive, but they didn't edit together a compelling enough story for her at any point for me to feel invested in watching her "journey" to find "love" this season.

But the thing is, I forgot to delete my pre-set DVR recording and the opening episode taped.

While I was getting ready for bed, I flipped it on because it's the perfect thing to have on in the background because I don't miss much over the sounds of tooth brushing and such. It's just people blathering on with their scripted hopefulness that this process--which so often fails because it isn't rooted in any sort of reality--will work for them. No doubt, at least half the time, they want it to work for their personal exposure and not a relationship. Whatever.

In any event, I had it on. I saw the intros. I had LOTS of thoughts. But with whom could I share those thoughts? My husband hates the show and won't listen to my commentary. Then it hit me: blog it.

And so, here is my commentary for the first episode of JoJo's season in as close to real-time viewing as possible (inasmuch as I can keep up with the typing). I'm not going to go back and edit after I've written it, either, because I can't spend the whole day working on it, now can I? (The answer to that, friends, is no.)

The show opens with a recap of JoJo's "journey" on Season Ben.
She was one of the contestants who came out with a dumb schtick-- unicorn head? Really? Ugh.
Ben really stepped in it last season. He should never have told two people he was in love with them. That's total bull.

Pensive water shot. Look into that fountain, JoJo. Stare at those flowers in the tree, JoJo. That criss-cross chest blue dress she's wearing in the "confessional" thing is lovely.
I hate that they had her walk along the beach in a bikini. It's so demeaning. Why couldn't she just be in shorts and a tee-shirt? (It reminds me of the IDIOCY that was the Chris Soules season when they had the girls ride around atop tractors whilst in bikinis. On a city street.)

A rundown on the requisite advice session with past contestants.

Nerves? They lay it on pretty thick telling JoJo that the men will look to her to calm them down and set the tone for the experience. 

Kiss on night one? They tell her it's a go. Why delay it? You're there to find a husband and if you feel attraction, you should explore it. * I think this is bad advice. Kissing on night one should not be on the table. Not when there's 26 men and you're talking to them for 5-10 minutes at a time.

Focus on compatibility and don't just get swept away with attraction, confusing lust with love. * Agreed. Good advice.

Are you ready to get engaged? This is a planted question. These ladies are here as extensions of the unnecessary host. I can practically hear Chris Harrison in the question. Anyway, JoJo says she is ready. 

Kaitlyn: "I'm so scared for you... I'm just being honest." Shut up, Kaitlyn. Nobody needs your honesty right now. (Full disclosure: I'm not a Kaitlyn fan. I didn't like her on Chris's season. Didn't like her on her own season. Still not liking her. I do, however, like her stripey shirt.)

Chris Harrison gives JoJo a glowing recommendation. She's the "total package" -- loving, gorgeous, successful. There was another adjective in there but I missed it and I'm not rewinding for it. But the thrust here is that she's a prize that any guy would be lucky to have. Guys like, well, THESE fellows (who get their own little spotlight before they even step out of the limos!)

Grant, 28, Firefighter. Shaved head. Botox lips. Prominent chin. Eh. Not impressed. He hopes JoJo lights his fire. Get it? Because he's a firefighter? (Gag!)

Jordan, 27, Former Pro-Footballer. Little brother of famous football person I don't know because I don't care about sports. He, too, played a bit. So right off the bat we have to wonder if he's here for the so-called right reasons (aka- for a relationship with JoJo) or if he's here for exposure because the famous thing didn't pan out. He's handsome. But what's with the super skinny jeans? NO! I just don't like them. His hands barely fit in those pockets and his walk is almost as awkward as his final comment that he hopes he'll be "JoJo's number one draft pick." Oh my god. Please stop!

Alex, 25, Marine. Rides a motorcycle. Life turned around by his choice to join marine corps. Short guy. Looks nice in his uniform. He's cute (but his twin is cuter), with pretty brown eyes

James, 27, Bachelor Superfan. Not a good sign (in life) that his career is listed as Bachelor Superfan. What else does he do? According to this intro piece, nothing. But at least his piece is mildly (in comparison to the other pieces, mind you) funny. He's doing his fave Bachelor pose. He's practicing accepting his rose. He's talking about his Bachelor brackets (he lost last season because he had Caila going all the way). He's seeking wardrobe advice from his autographed photo of Chris Harrison. But we don't really know anything about him beyond his love of the show. Which means he's not going to be around too long.

Evan, 33, Erectile Dysfunction Specialist. Oh geez. Here we go. Prepare for the dick jokes, everyone. Former pastor but now he's found a different way to "lift" people's spirits. When guys come in "they're really down" - a lot of what he does is "pump up my guys" and "get... them excited."  "It's a hard business" and "it's really draining" but it "gets the pep in their step." Also, he's "pumped" talking about JoJo-- he's got his "mojo for JoJo." That's just cheap.

Ali, 27, Bartender. HOLY eyebrows Batman! Shit. I think he might have said something about himself, but I'm sorry. I can't stop staring at his eyebrows. It looks like he may have legit had a uni brow and he removed the connective part since it's actually lighter there. I'm not sure what's going on, but it's distracting. For a second I thought I may have noticed he has a nice smile, but then my eyes go right back to the busy above the peepers. YIKES.

Christian, 26, Telecom. He gets up early (3:30) and works out at 4:30. Too early, dude. Looks great in a suit. Pain of interracial background. Role model for brothers who live with him. He's said "journey" twice so that's a good sign.

Luke, 31, War Veteran. Small town country boy. There had to be at least one. There always is. He's a vet, too. He's got a very attractive profile. But when he looks directly at the camera...something goes away.

Limo rides over to meet JoJo. They're talking about how hot she is. How if they picture their wife, she's what they picture. How superficial of them. Oh look-- there's a Jon Krasinski lookalike in the limo. Who is that guy?

Jordan is the first out of the limo. Good sign for him, especially combined with his intro piece earlier. He's gonna be a player. JoJo tells him he looks good. Several times.

It's Jon Krasinski again. His real name is Derek. That's a good name for a love interest. I think I'll use that in a book. He also kind of reminds me (appearance-wise) of Marcus from Andy's season (and then I think he went and did Bachelor in Paradise but I don't watch that show.) Hmm.

Nice first impression, Grant. Way to bring up her painful history with Ben within ten seconds of meeting her. That'll get you points...NOT.

James F, owns a boxing club or some such.

JoJo keeps telling people not to be nervous even if they don't say they're nervous. I think she really took that pep talk from the girls to heart. Yikes.

James S. Came for a relationship, not a rose. Nice rehearsed line, but sounded totally rehearsed.

Robby. Walks like he has a load in his pants. Presents JoJo with a bottle of wine and makes her drink from the bottle. Then drinks himself. Awkward. Should've brought glasses.

It's Alex the marine again. He really is cute (reminds me of James Marsden, actually), but his suit doesn't fit. He needs to size up. His muscles are bulging out of it, and not in a good way. And also? The flood is over, Alex. You need a little more length on those pants. I shouldn't be able to see your stupid striped socks, buddy.

Will fake dropped his flashcards so he could use them for an awkward joke wherein he told JoJo he's the most beautiful woman in the world or some shit. Horrible,Will.

Chad. Gets out of the limo. Pretty attractive. But then... awkward grab of her hands that results in them standing arms akimbo and then a waaaaaay too intense stare that, rather than playing off as sexy and soul-searching (as I believe was his game plan) comes off as creepy and

Daniel-- this guy seems like a dick. I don't like him. He seems disingenuous and flippant.

Eyebrows hath arrived. Ali is back. He does have a sweet smile. But goddamn, those brows.

Oh no. James Taylor is singing with a guitar. Hokey. (Meanwhile, there's a ton of men named James here)

Dude in a kilt. Jonathan. He's half chinese and half scottish, but luckily he's "half scottish below the waist." JoJo doesn't get the joke (or does, but chooses not to focus on how he's just sexually harassed her). What does that mean, she wants to know? To his credit, Jon doesn't explain that he was making a disgusting reference to the size of his schlong even though he's JUST MET HER. Instead, he says it's "open to interpretation." Smart. Oh wait. I gave him too much credit. Because as he walks away, he tells her he isn't wearing underwear. Oh dear.

Guys aren't impressed when Jon walks in in his kilt. Dan the Dick is making snide remarks.

Santa. His name is listed as Saint Nick. He's dressed like Santa. Gave her a gift. Saying "Jo Jo Jo Jo Jo" instead of HOHOHO. Doesn't even remove his beard to show her his real face.

Dan the Dick unimpressed with Santa, too, and has some choice bleeped words on the subject. (He's going on the naughty list...) Chad not a fan of the sideshow antics, but Jordan appreciates it because he feels it helps him out.

(Fake) mustachioed man --I missed his name -- uses pun I laughed at yesterday. Today? Not so funny.

Jake. Poor guy. The show glazed over his intro. He's an architect- that's all we know. I predict that's all we'll come to know, too.

Sal and blue balls. He hands them to her and tells her he gives her permission to squeeze his balls any time she is stressed. You know what? That shit isn't funny when you're first meeting someone. It's creepy and rude.

Coley wants to take JoJo "off the market" (real-estate humor).

Brandon the hipster who doesn't have much to say. He didn't watch last season. Guess what else? He didn't brush his hair for tonight, either.

Men note there's a lot of hair gel and cologne right now. Someone feels like he's in a catalogue of sorts. Dan the Dick says, "She's lucky girl. If I was a gay dude, I'd be in paradise."

Christian Slater meets Chris Hemsworth (Nick S) dazzles with a dance and split.

Vinny gives her toast. Like the bread. JoJo must have a gluten allergy (she only mercy smiled at it.)

Peter gives her a stuffed heart.

Chad thought the pickings would be "the number one guys from each state" (meanwhile, where the hell did he get that idea?? Has he ever watched this show?) but he's realizing it's more like a bunch of guys "couldn't meet a girl."

Evan has just sprung from the limo. (Get it? Sprung? Since he's the erectile dysfunction joke machine?)

Wells. "You're outta my league," he tells her. Now All-4-One is singing "I Swear" for her since Wells brought them along. The hipster is impressed. James Taylor "hates" whoever brought them. Jordan thinks this is a good move.

Here comes trouble -- JoJo: "I feel a bad boy!"-- it's Christian.

Luke came riding in on a horse. Oh, a UNIcorn. He still has that great profile but not a good front face. That's the weirdest thing to me.

Chris Harrison. Oh, he's just hosting. He's so pointless.

They keep talking about how pretty she is. Santa is still "JoJoJoJo"ing all over the place. He's still in his costume. And the beard.

She's giving them a pep talk. Thanks for coming. You look hot. Blah blah blah.

Alex the marine and his Dan the Dick talking about how short Alex is and how he must have a Napoleon complex. Alex does pushups with JoJo sitting on his butt. Chad has his own snide remarks to share. It's amazing to be able to watch someone become less and less attractive in front of your eyes.

JoJo is looking for an instant connection but she's not feeling it. Everyone is so nervous.

Oh wait. Here comes Jordan. She feels it with him. He's rubbing her back. She's eating it up. He wishes he kissed her.

More crap conversations. Painful. Especially Will (the fake flashcard guy)-- now he's doing an orgami fortune teller with her... and her fortune is she's about to get kissed. She plays along but it's not a real kiss and she was obviously only being polite. Yikes. Cringe.

But that's ok. Jordan has been thinking about how he didn't like not seizing his own kiss moment before so he's coming back to recreate that moment and give her a real one. "I'm goofy...really goofy... <smoooch>" Wow. What a moment. But she liked it and is now remarking on his butt. She says she needs to start doing squats.

Chris comes in with the first impression rose. Now the room gets tense.

Omigod. Wells is still using the All-4-One card. Get your own talent, dude. Speaking of? JoJo is tone deaf.

The architect wouldn't let the hipster interrupt? Even so, neither of them will be in the show long enough for that to

Chad talking to JoJo pretending to be vulnerable. After all his comments, it's obviously fake. He's pretty confident that if he wanted her, I'll have her???? He's the manlier, more rugged version of Ben? Ben is just a "soft, supple, smooth, friendly guy"? Man, Chad is a DICK. He may be worse than Dan.

Speaking of...Dan the Dick is talking to her now. He's having the most awkward conversation with her. Good. Because he's awful.

People are drinking a LOT. Santa is STILL in full regalia. He's literally lifting his beard out of the way to drink a bottle of beer. WHY is he still in that outfit? He can't be legit on the show. He has to be some kind of random plant.

Dan the Dick is drunk. Poking the erectile dysfunction guy's belly button. Oh man. Let's just get to the rose ceremony already and put us out of our misery. Now he's taken off his shirt. Now his pants are off. JoJo told him to put his clothes on. And he's in the water....

JoJo in the confessional but Chris Hemsworth interrupted and now another one is interrupting. Purple Tie just made a reference to last season. Something like "I'll never make you beg for my love on the bathroom floor." Shit! What is wrong with these idiots???

Eyebrows is playing Beethoven. He's very talented.

She's sitting on Santa's lap. But he's still wearing it that beard. She FINALLY took it off him. But he's sweating profusely. Gross.

James Taylor has impressed her. Now the other Texas guy -- Luke of the profile-only attractiveness--bought her cowboy boots. She's feeling him.

Ooh. First-impression rose time. Jordan?

Yes! I am SO good. Jordan it is. But the rejected guys are taking solace in the fact that Olivia got the first-impression rose last season but then got left on an island. This is a good point. Chad doesn't feel Jordan is being "genuine."

Oh, here's Chris. It's time. JoJo is RELIEVED. She's like, "Thank you!" Honestly, I don't think it would be all that difficult to make cuts right now. I could do it with ease. Here's who I'd cut: Dan, purple tie, Jon, Grant, Chris Hemsworth, Santa, Chad. (She won't cut Chad.), Will, Coley

But wait! Here comes another limo. Jake the Snake Pavelka has arrived. Why? What's the angle here?

They've gone to commercial so I will take this opportunity to think this through before I see why he's here. First off, this is dumb. Jake already had a shot on this show (and several crap spin-offs). He picked Vienna and then that was a complete and utter train wreck and he showed his true colors of, well, being an asshole, and the whole thing wasn't good. I'm not sure if they're bringing him in now to potentially vie for JoJo's hand. The show has been letting people come in and crash the party for a while now, so that's certainly an angle. It's possible he's just there to give advice and they did it over a commercial break to draw it out and let viewers enjoy their shit-fits. We'll see. He's probably trying to stay. He can't let his time run out. To that end, if JoJo lets him stay (assuming she even has a choice which, with this show, I don't necessarily believe is the case) that would be a joke.

It's back. The Bachelor Superfan recognizes him right off. Ha! His fandom is good for something.

Jake is a close family friend with JoJo?? Like a brother? Nepotism in the Bachelor-hood, huh? But he wants to talk to her first. He wants love. FOR HER. Duh. That was the stupidest effing thing I've ever seen. Total ploy.

Whatever. Let's get on with the ceremony. JoJo will go with her gut.

Rose recipients: Luke, Wells, James Taylor, Grant (WHY?), Derek, Christian, Chad (Chad did lots of bluster as other guys got their roses before him), Chase, Alex (Napoleon complex), Robby, Brandon (hipster? huh!), James F, Ali Eyebrows, Santa (?!?!), Will (no way!), James S , Vinny (purple tie-- Dan the Dick just said "I don't know what JoJo is thinking" -- honestly, neither do I!), erectile dysfunction guy, Dan! (WHAT the EFF?)

It's daybreak as the castoffs leave. That's how long this nonsense takes to shoot. Wow. And Santa is still wearing his stupid outfit.

Thank goodness that's over. I don't know if I can watch more of these. But I'm posting this because I just spent (wasted) two hours of my life on it.

Thursday, March 17, 2016

Luck of the Modern Parent

              Photo credit: here
When I was a kid, here's what we did at home to celebrate St. Patrick's Day: my mom made some Irish potatoes candies (1) and decorated a couple windows and doors with paper shamrocks. (That's also what we did for Valentine's Day, only with some hearts and cupids, and Thanksgiving with the turkeys and pilgrims, and Halloween with black cats and witches and skeletons. You get the picture.) And that level of acknowledgement and "celebration" was pretty standard. It was uncommon to do much else. Except for my best friend's mom who always made her and her siblings shamrock shakes as an after-school snack.

You know what we did in school to celebrate St. Patrick's Day? Nothing. Seriously. Not a thing. They barely even advertised for us to wear green! Even when they did, I was one of a very few who wore it.

I had ONE shirt--a ribbed green turtleneck--and a ribbon with shamrocks on it which I tied around a ponytail (or, if my hair was too short that year, on my belt loop or around my neck). If I felt extra festive, I'd throw on my "Kiss Me, I'm Irish" pin to complete the look. I wore that same outfit EVERY. SINGLE. YEAR. For real. I'd estimate I got that shirt around 6th grade and only finally retired it about 5 years ago. (2) (Yes, it still fit--except the sleeves which, admittedly, went from full-length to an inch shy of 3/4-length. But hey! That came into fashion so LUCKY ME!) Miraculously, the vibrant Kelly green hue never faded in all the years I owned it. Probably because I only wore it once a year.

Anyway. The point I'm getting at is this: St. Patrick's Day? As a "holiday?" Non-entity.

But I learned a few years ago, when my older daughter started kindergarten, this is no longer the case.

No, now there's a whole *thing* with St. Patrick's Day. Involving, of course, the leprechaun. Who, apparently, comes to the school and gets into all sorts of mischief, wreaking havoc in the classrooms. I'm talking overturning chairs. Messing up blinds. Tossing papers around. Breaking things. Mixing up pencils and markers. Etc etc etc. Oh, but sometimes he leaves behind gold coin candies.

Can we pause for one minute here? What nutty newbie teacher thought up this nonsense? As though teachers don't have enough shit to do during a normal day, enough REAL messes to clean up, now they're expected to destroy their own classrooms and waste instructional time while the kids then have to clean it all up??? WHY??? It's SO. DUMB.

But, see, if that was all there is to the new wave, maybe it wouldn't be such a big deal because if some whimsical teacher wants to wreck her own room, I guess that's her business. It doesn't affect my life or infringe on my time.

Unfortunately, it's not all. Because then the forms come home about making something called a "leprechaun trap." The first time I saw it, I was like, "What the hell is this?" Why would anyone want to trap a leprechaun? Aren't they busy at the end of the rainbow with pots of gold? But it goes along with the whole mischievous-leprechaun concept. (3)
So on the appointed day, I cart my kid AND her trap to school, all the while curious as to how the teacher is going to work around the idea that, presumably, there is one leprechaun but thirty traps. Will the "best" trap catch him? Ooh, kindergarten intrigue.

Guess what? Turns out the whole leprechaun trap concept puts the SHAM in shamrock!

THE LEPRECHAUN IS NEVER CAUGHT. What kind of blarney is that? But then, of course that's the outcome because  how can you catch something that DOESN'T EXIST?

What we're left with at the end of the day, then, is a whole bunch of wasted time (either the kids' or their parents' - see footnote 3 below), disappointed kids, and a mess that didn't need to happen in the first place.

And, again, if that's all there was to it, I could just suck it up once a year. But my kids think this is normal and they expect it at home, too. Because why does the leprechaun visit their friends' houses and not their house?

So then I'm in the unenviable position of making a choice. Do I open Pandora's box and tell them the leprechaun is fictional, and risk bursting the magic bubble of other made-up characters? If one falls, will they all fall? (It's an inevitable eventuality, but is now the time?) Or do I cave to the new trend and buy a $5 tub of gold coin candies, knock some pillows off the couch, tie up my curtains, and dribble a few drops of green food coloring into their morning milk?

Some people might argue this is exactly why they don't perpetuate the belief in any character. And in one way, that might be easier. Though in others, I bet it's harder. After all, when so many other people get to believe in something, it can feel lonely or sad not to. Especially as a kid. I've read articles written by parents who claim their kid doesn't miss out and still gets presents or candy in conjunction with the holidays. But I'd argue that the kids are missing out on some degree of the intangible "magic" of believing simply because it's fun to believe. Even if, down the line, they'll be disappointed to find out it wasn't literal truth, but more a figurative ideal, at least they were able to revel in the magic of it for a time.

On the other hand, it can be difficult and stressful to keep myths alive for kids. Fielding questions about inconsistent-looking bearded men in red or bunnies. Explaining disparities in rewards for teeth. Responding to kids' notes left in the dead of night. Mastering the perfect timing for magically appearing (or disappearing) items throughout the house.

Back in the day, parents signed on for this just a couple times a year-- Christmas and Easter-- and maybe around tooth-loss time.

But Christmas is no longer one night of magic. It's a whole month because of the likes of Elf on the Shelf. (Which we don't do, much to the disappointment of my daughter.) (4)
Wearing green on St. Patrick's Day is no longer enough. Now there's a trap and a mess and hard-to-find gold candies.

Aside from the extra work involved, the additions stress me out because I don't like to over-complicate things. The more intricacies involved in a story, the harder it is to keep track of them, stay consistent, have them make sense. Plus, it's uncomfortable because I'm forced as a parent to make new judgment calls about what constitutes a "healthy" fantasy life versus where it crosses the line into a lie. Is it okay to perpetuate some characters without doing all characters? Or, as some argue, is any one of these a recipe for ruined trust down the line? 

I don't have the answer. I only have what I suspect might be the answer for me and my kids at this point in time. (5) I may not know until they're older if I got it right.

If I'm lucky. 

**Footnotes. Because I'm doing that now.**

(1) I've recently learned Irish potato candies, like scrapple, are a regional thing. A Philadelphia candy, as it were. So if you don't know what I'm talking about when I refer to them, it's a little ball of coconut cream rolled in cinnamon. It's roundish and brown like a potato, hence the name. But there's no potato in them. I decided this year I wanted to make my own--sooooo easy-- and I had a tough time finding a recipe without cream cheese in them since the ones I grew up eating had no cheese in them. Here's the recipe I found that is spot on if you want to taste the deliciousness. Oh, except you roll them ONLY in cinnamon.

(2) When I bought a new green shirt--a short-sleeved scoop neck--to wear only once a year.

(3) If you're not familiar with the concept, google it. At it's base, the task is simple. As in simplynotsimple. The mission: construct a trap to catch the leprechaun doing all the mischief in the classroom. Use boxes, paper, pots (gold optional), rainbows, makeshift ladders, paper-towel-roll slides, pencils, whatever, to jerry-rig a trapdoor or other means of capturing the dude.

I know what some of you are thinking: But there *is* educational value to this project. It's not just fluff. There's opportunities for artistic creativity and problem-solving. Lessons on cause and effect, even some possible physics depending on the construction.

And, for the ten kids who completed their own projects, I'll agree with you. But for the 20 other kids whose parents CLEARLY did theirs, they got nothing from it except their first lesson in helicopter parenting.

For the record, my daughter did her own, constructing what looked to be more of a leprechaun house than anything else. She used a box and taped a bunch of toy furniture and pictures and so forth to the inside. Her rationale? It would be so cozy in there, the leprechaun would choose to stay. This is the same girl who, at Thanksgiving, completed the sentence "If I was a turkey at Thanksgiving, I would..." with "dress up like a pig." Can't argue with that! I love the way she thinks.

(4) Last year, we got sort of roped in to doing a version of this from Dec 1-24 because my daughters were gifted with what were described as magical elves who moved in the night. But we didn't continue the tradition this year. Now the elves are more decorative for the girls' bedrooms. I still had to make up a story explaining why they weren't moving, however.

(5) Which is why I got up fifteen minutes before my girls today and half-assedly "messed up" and dyed their milk green and left them each a few chocolate coins.

Friday, February 26, 2016

In Memoriam, Plus No-Bake Oatmeal Raisin Energy Bites

No-Bake Oatmeal Raisin Energy Bites

Two days ago, there was a death in my kitchen. Don't be alarmed--no living souls left us, thankfully. But still, I lost an old, trusty friend. A pal I turned to when I was loath to get out my cumbersome food processor, when I needed to make a small batch of ground pecans or my family's favorite salmon mustard sauce. The buddy who has celebrated as many anniversaries with me as my own husband. Two days ago, my Black and Decker Smart Chopper was damaged beyond repair. (I contemplated including a picture, but open-casket funerals creep me out. I prefer to remember him as he was.)

RIP Smart Chopper - Photo from
Yes, of course I'm being a bit melodramatic here. It's *only* a kitchen tool. But as anyone who does a lot of cooking could tell you, certain kitchen gadgets are more oft-used than others. Certain gadgets, if lost, create a bigger hole than others. (Not the donut pan, though. Those holes aren't all that large to begin with, especially if you fill the pan too high. Ba dum bump.) But, seriously, if, say, my quesadilla maker suddenly broke down, that's no big loss. It's easier to make quesadillas in a skillet, or even in the oven. (Ok, full disclosure: I haven't owned a quesadilla maker for over five years now. I used it twice in the six years I owned it and it was taking up valuable storage space. I made a great show of getting rid of it, bragging to my husband about the progress I was showing in purging lesser-used gadgetry, even as I bought a new gadget to replace it. Nevertheless, if I still owned the quesadilla maker and it suddenly broke down, it would be no big loss. That's the point I'm making.)

But that wasn't the case with my Smart Chopper. It was one of the first kitchen gadgets I ever bought, in fact. I acquired it shortly after moving in with my husband, thinking it would be a good substitute for a food processor. It wasn't. Its 1.5 cup capacity was much too small for major processing jobs. But for small things--chopping up a few cloves of garlic, mincing the veggies I sneak into our meatloaf*--it's so convenient. I'd had it over a decade.

Last Christmas, I tried turning some candy cane sticks into candy cane dust for the tops of my beautiful peppermint cake pops (if you click that link, they're near the bottom of the post). However, turns out those candy canes sticks weren't just any old sticks. They were INDUSTRIAL-STRENGTH ROCK-HARD SUPER-MEGA-MIGHTY candy cane sticks, and they were having none of the pulverizing. They jammed the motor, rendering my poor Smart Chopper momentarily stupid. The plastic casing of the blade drop-in piece broke. I thought Smarty McChopperson had chopped his last. But, like Gladiator, he still fought valiantly while injured and prevailed. For over a year, in fact.

And he'd still be fighting, if only...

Picture it: my kitchen, two nights ago. (No. Not Sicily, 1922.) I'm making a recipe from Sally's Baking Addiction (my baking addiction is making all her recipes, it would seem) in the Smart Chopper. It was a healthy chocolate energy bites recipe, using dates, nuts, seeds, vanilla extract, and cocoa powder. I added a touch of honey to mine also, in case you care. In any event, I'd just finished forming the balls and decided a little peanut butter flavor would take them up a notch. So I rolled them in some PB2 powder. Brilliant! Then I put them in the refrigerator. When I opened my cabinet to replace the PB2, all hell broke loose. The PB2 bumped the tahini which upset the Nutella which knocked the cookie butter out of the closet. A Giant-brand bomb landed on my Chopper, sending shards of plastic shrapnel flying hither and thither. "Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" I watched in horror, but there was nothing I could do to save it.

You read that right. What finally did in my Chopper was a damned off-brand jar of speculoos!

Rest in peace, Chopper.

What was I to do, then? (This is a rhetorical question. The answer, it should be obvious, is that I needed to immediately replace it.) I took to Amazon and saw that I could get the latest model for about $12 OR I could get a 3-cup capacity version for around $20. Since there have been times when I could could've used some extra space in my mini chopper, I opted to size up.

My new friend arrived today. Black and Decker Ergo Chopper. I'll just call him Ergo for short. (That's a lie. I'll probably just call him my mini-chopper. I may be eccentric about kitchen gadgets, but I don't actually name them real names.)
Black and Decker Ergo Chopper- Photo from
To celebrate its arrival, I decided to make my own version of an energy bite, but I wanted mine not to involve chocolate. I brainstormed as I drifted off to sleep. How could I tweak the base recipe? Well, instead of the sticky dates, maybe I could use raisins. And instead of the peanuts, I could use walnuts. Instead of the seeds, I could use oats. I kept the vanilla, added a touch of salt and some cinnamon to round out the flavor, and a teaspoon of honey for both a little more moisture and a smidge more sweetness and boom. A star was born. They're convenient to grab after a workout or if you crave a little sweetness, without refined sugar. (Although, let's be honest: refined sugar tastes amazing.)

Here's the recipe:

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Looking Up

I love those marvelous days during which I am super productive. The ones where I check everything off my to-do list and even add a couple extra things because I can. The ones when I sit in front of my computer and the ideas flow, generating words, and soon the page is full; I could keep going for days, weeks, a lifetime! The ones when I'm filled with excitement, optimism, a conflicting yet comforting feeling of frenetic energy as infinite possibility stretches before me, when I know to my core that life is wonderful and things are aligning and I am in control. I can take on the world. I AM the world, dammit!

Man, I love those days. LOVE. THEM.

Sometimes I'm lucky and I wake up feeling amazing. Well, after my first cup of coffee. (Interestingly, I used to be purely a tea person. I didn't start drinking coffee until the fall of 2013, when I discovered the Cranberry-Chocolate variety sold by Fresh Market. Mmm. That coffee made a coffee-drinker out of me. Until I became overzealous and bought 13 bags of it the next season (we still have 3 left) and it got sort of played out.  Lesson learned: There's a reason seasonal blends are seasonal and should stay seasonal. But I digress...) Those days are fabulous. The sky is bluer, the sun shines brighter, things I read are more profound. I want to drink life to the lees.

Other days start off normally and the magic develops later. For instance, Sunday night I was sitting at my computer and out of nowhere, I was struck with a feeling like I could conquer anything. I remarked to my husband that I wished I could bottle it up to drink sometime I felt down. That night I was full of vigor, ideas, purpose, drive. I contemplated staying up all night just to hold on to the feeling as long as I could, to capitalize on the buzz of energy running through me.

Yesterday I had another flash of it. In the late morning, I was able to reach flow as I worked. I ran out of time and had to pack it up until tomorrow; still, possibility hummed in my chest the rest of the day. Later, I worked out, made dinner, took my girls to visit my dad for his birthday, folded two loads of laundry while watching the inspiring State of the Union address, and listened to music with my husband as we fell asleep. It was a productive and satisfying day.

Unfortunately, today was not that kind of day.

Today was the opposite kind. The kind where I can barely manage to accomplish a single task. The kind where, if I got a dollar for every time I clicked off of the page in front of me to check Facebook or my inbox, I wouldn't need to win tonight's $1.5 billion Powerball jackpot. The kind in which I spend all my time re-reading what I've already written instead of writing anything new. When I am plagued by restlessness that sends me skittering from this to that to that other thing. The kind where even if I could manage to focus on my task (like when I went to the gym for my workout), something would interrupt me (a friendly older fellow who chatted me up so much he must've been having a similar affliction today). The kind of day that gives me agita.

Sure, I had a nice Facebook exchange with some old friends about our fifth grade days. I sent a funny PG-13 joke to try to lighten the mood of a friend who was having upset over car troubles. I took my daughter to her gymnastics class. I conversed with the gym guy. So, yes, I made some pleasant connections to the world today in my own way, I suppose. But it was not the day I had hoped to have work-wise.

When I have days like this, I fight against it. I resolve to myself that if I just do XYZ, then I'll be back on track. But it rarely works. Instead of just admitting it's not happening, I end up sitting for longer, drawing out the entire process and still having nothing to show for it but aching body parts. (To that end, my knees are killing me from sitting as long as I have been today in this stubborn pursuit to make something happen that is clearly not there to happen today.)

That's dumb.

So, grudgingly, painfully, I've decided I'm going to give myself permission to call it a day. In addition, I am going to forgive myself the absurd amount of time I wasted pressuring myself to give something I couldn't--for whatever reason--give today. I might even go and watch some of the most recent episode of The Bachelor I DVRed on Monday. (What? I've already wasted most of the day on nonsense; what's another ninety minutes???)

And tomorrow? Tomorrow I'm going to start again and hope the magic happens. At the very least, I'm disabling my wifi for my working hours. (That, in itself, is a kind of magic these days.)

Huh, whaddaya know? That decision is the most productive I've been all day! Things are already looking up! ;-)

Monday, January 11, 2016

Bam! What...were they thinking?!

(Photo from disneychannel online)
Full disclosure: I've been writing this post since Thursday. I worked on it sporadically throughout the day, but didn't manage to finish it. Life, as they say, got in the way. (People say that, don't they?) Anyway, now that it's Monday the 11th and no longer Thursday the 7th, the post sort of changed in feeling. The moment was lost. (I know people say that.)

Accordingly, I have deleted my nostalgic musing. The super Reader's Digest version is this: I delivered my firstborn a month before her due date, and on Friday she turned eight. As in eight years old. As in I AM THE MOTHER OF AN EIGHT YEAR OLD HUMAN.

Wowsa. How did that happen?

The little kid part of her is more and more a memory. She's starting--or approaching, depending on which authority's age range you follow--the tween years. But the point is, she's in that strange twilight of being a kid but not being a little kid. You know what I mean? She still carts around Soft Blankie, but she can also make herself a proper cup of tea. She still wants us to kiss her boo boos, but she can also read full chapter books & write detailed stories of her own. 

Before, she used to say things like, "Leaves of three, let it be, Mom." And I'd look at her and say, "That's right, hon. Where did you learn that?" And she'd answer, "George." (Referring to Curious George. She'd also often quote great information from Arthur and The Magic School Bus.)

About a month ago, though, she hit me with something new. As she was getting ready to go Christmas shopping at the mall, she presented herself wearing a dress layered over stretch pants, a denim jacket, and a pair of brown boots. I said, "Honey, those aren't good shoes for the mall. You're going to be walking around a lot, and you were just complaining to me a couple days ago at AC Moore that they hurt your feet. I think you should pick a sneaker instead. It'll support your feet better." She turned to me and said, "Mom! I'm going to the mall. I can't wear sneakers to the mall! Liv only wears boots shopping!"

I stood in quiet shock for a few seconds, various thoughts running through my mind. Oh geez, here we go! and also Who is this Liv person? and also Don't come off as though you care if she changes them, or there's no way she's going to change into sneakers. (She did change, but only after my husband reinforced the suggestion.)

A couple days later, I heard her arguing with her little sister. "No! I am not Maddie!" my younger daughter screeched as though being Maddie (whoever the hell Maddie is) was some kind of punishment, clearly the lesser of the two characters. "But I'M Liv, so you have to be Maddie!" shouted my older one.

Then she started in on this most annoying "Bam. What?!" exclamation that, even if you can find it cute the first time (and that's a big if), is annoying and obnoxious when repeated over and over and over and over...

(Side note: she received a voice-activated private journal for her birthday and programmed the password as "Bam! What!?" Lest you be troubled that I'm broadcasting this information on a public blog, rest assured that her secrets are quite safe. A.) The journal not only ONLY recognizes her voice as the proper one to open the journal, but also has an added security feature of an Intruder Alert that records the voice of whomever tried unsuccessfully to gain entry and plays it for her when she opens it next. B.) Of the combined two hours she spent focused on her journal, all of that time was spent recording and re-recording passwords and opening and closing the journal; no actual writing took place within the pages as yet.)

It turns out the catalyst for these confusing events is a Disney show called Liv & Maddie. I typically insist on approving the shows my kids watch, but she found this one on Netflix after bypassing the approved Kids section and got hooked before I even knew about it. (Yet further evidence of her swing to not-such-a-little-kid-hood.)

I made it a priority over winter break to check out the show that was morphing my information-oriented daughter into a fashion-obsessed sarcasm machine punctuating her proud sass with "Bam, What!" I let her pick a couple episodes for us to watch together.

The first one she chose, citing it as one of her favorites, was called "Bro-Cave-A-Rooney" (all the titles involve "A-Rooney" since it's the title characters' last name.) In this episode, twins Liv & Maddie lose a bet to their two younger brothers and have to clean the boys' disgusting bedroom. The older brother, Joey, is a gawky teen-aged boy with funny one-liners and lots of effeminate qualities. The younger brother, Parker, is a diabolical inventor-brainiac, smarmy in his methods. He is the mastermind behind the bet because he doesn't want to have to clean his own pigsty bedroom. Luckily for the boys, Liv and Maddie are in their bedroom arguing over closet space. Liv, an actress whose TV show's run just ended, is super "girly" and obsessed with her shoe collection so she's moving "tomboy" twin, Maddie's, basketball uniforms out of there. Parker and Joey offer their own closet as a prize if the sisters can win a friendly Rooney family game of eat-the-mystery-food-in-the-fridge-roulette. (They had some family name for it, but my brain can only retain so much idiocy at one time.) If the boys win, the sisters have to clean their room. Liv is wary of this plan but tough-girl Maddie is undefeated at this game, so they accept the terms. Spoiler alert: The boys cheat so the girls lose.

Once inside the disgusting bedroom, Parker's giant beanbag chair "eats" Maddie. As it turns out, she has fallen into one of Parker's many cave-tunnels. This tunnel leads to the high school. Yes, you read that right: the boy has a tunnel system from his bedroom to the high school, as well as various others that lead to different locations in the home and about town. *Sigh.* Liv and Parker set off in search of Maddie. Meanwhile, back at home, Joey has destroyed Liv's Diva Board (a hanging tapestry of sorts that hangs behind Liv's bed. People stand in front of it to sing and pose, presumably like divas.) This is a catastrophe that sends Joey running to his parents for help. His parents, bumbling nerd-types who both work at the kid's high school--the mom as a Vice Principal, the dad as a basketball coach--, are sleeping on the sofa having fallen asleep yet again whilst trying to watch a movie called President Baby. (I wish I was making this up.) They scramble with Joey to fix the Diva Board before Liv returns. Liv happens upon Maddie at the high school, and they piece together Parker's treachery. To teach him a lesson, they pretend to be a Scottish bogeyman-character they'd invented when they were younger. In the end, Liv & Maddie exact their revenge, Parker builds a new shoe-tunnel as retribution, and the Diva Board is, mercifully, restored to its former glory. The boys have to clean their own mess and afterward, immediately throw their dirty clothes on the floor. The parents continue to be useless boobs. The end.

I watched a few other episodes, too, but "Bro-Cave-A-Rooney" is a fair representative sample.

I can sort of excuse how dumb/cheesy/far-fetched some of the plots are because, well, I watched lots of that kind of stuff growing up (things like Saved by the Bell, Full House). Plus, I can give the show credit for its sense of family--the manner in which Liv's dream to be a movie star was supported, and each kid's personality and interests are allowed/celebrated. Those are good points, certainly. 

And even though I can roll my eyes at lots of the ridiculousness in plotting, and even grudgingly chuckle along with some of it, what I can't excuse is how Disney is doing all of that by perpetuating so many stereotypes in characterization.

There's the boob parents-- friendly enough, but largely unnecessary. Just big, lovable, mostly unaware doofuses whose main purpose is to add adult presence for plot-device purposes. (For instance, so the kids can get one over on the parents-- as was the case in "Helgaween-A-Rooney" when the sons wanted to go watch a slasher movie but the parents said no, so they ended up cloning themselves so one version of themselves could go.-- or to torment their kids in ways only parents seem to do--as was the case in "Prom-A-Rooney" where Mom arranges for cousin Craig (budding magician) to escort Liv to prom.) On occasion, they'll say something "funny" that is actually embarrassing to watch, like when the mom complains in "Moms-A-Rooney" how Liv's former TV mom stole her trademark line that she is "about to drop a butt-bomb of Mom" on her kids. That was the same episode where she took Maddie on a mom-daughter pioneer weekend in hopes of winning the Golden Churn.

What's wrong with presenting parents in this light, however, is that they become a kind of joke. It teaches kid viewers that parents are bumbling fools or out-of-touch dorks who may mean well, but they're in their own adult bubble of not "getting it." Thankfully, parents are easily deceived or manipulated; the trick is merely to find out how to pull the wool over their naive eyes. In turn, a certain level of respect for authority is lost.

Next, there's the so-called girly girl twin-- Liv is all about being a girl, in the fashion/heels/lip gloss/ sparkly things sense of the word. Even though the same actress plays both twins, Liv speaks in a higher-pitched voice that makes her sound like an air head (she also sings the name of her former television show any time she mentions it). My daughter said that Liv is smart, but in the few episodes I watched, I saw little evidence to support that. Liv is an actress who is back home in her small town because she missed her family (which is sweet) and her TV show had run its course. She claims that she just wants to be a "regular teenager" in Wisconsin. But her normal runs counter to most people's normal, with bright lights, red carpets, high heels, and short dresses. 

On the flip side, there's the so-called tomboy twin-- Maddie is competitive and all about her role as star basketball player. Her voice is more modulated and, I suspect, the actress's actual speaking voice. (HA! I'm right.) She doesn't have time for high heels, and is more at home in sneakers and a jersey. Oh, and she wears glasses. (Which, on the surface, is no big deal. But there's a general (mis)perception that glasses might make a person less attractive; Liv, of course, wears no glasses.) She hangs out a lot with her teammates and is more apt to celebrate her small-town lifestyle than Liv. For instance, Maddie wants a cowboy/ho-down theme for her Sweet-16 birthday party while Liv wants a red-carpet extravaganza theme. Maddie wants a zombie-themed Halloween party, while Liv votes for a truly"fright-tacular" theme: BROWN. Yes, the color.

As a female, a graduate of a women's college, and the mother of girls, it offends me how there is nothing nuanced about these types. Even the interactive video quiz on youtube through which you can find out which sister you are most like makes it seem as though a female is one of two ways: "feminine" (Liv) or "masculine" (Maddie). But what about the subtleties of personality? Why can't Maddie prefer sneakers but enjoy dressing up on occasion, too? What about the realities of a broad range of interests--particularly interests that are typically (unfairly, stupidly, detrimentally...) gendered? It shouldn't be strange for a boy to like the color pink, or for girls to like playing with cars. Why does merchandising insist that Star Wars is for boys, and Frozen (except Olaf) is for girls? (Also, why would Olaf be for boys? Because he IS a boy?) That's all preposterous. These types of either/or stereotypes are what reinforce these flawed ways of thinking. My husband and I spend so much time teaching our girls that they are free to like what they like and be interested in what they are interested in, but these shows (and stores and merchandising and marketing and society...) come in and chip away at those lessons and--BAM! What?!--suddenly my eight-year-old daughter doesn't want to be seen at the mall in practical footwear because Liv would never wear sneakers?!

But the stereotypes don't stop there.

There's also the brainiac brother with a mean streak-- Parker, the youngest Rooney, is brilliant, but seems only to use his smarts for "evil" or self-serving purposes. He's so intelligent he makes it onto the high school robotics team even though he isn't even in high school. In "Hoops-A-Rooney," he falls for his brother's crush--a brilliant, science-loving girl. Score! But before we get too excited at this non-stereotype...she's Asian. Sooo...back to stereotype. Plus, she's kind of robotic in her behavior because she's so into science. Oh, except for when Joey shows up in a suit and she starts twirling her hair, giggling, and acting like a bubble-head. AHHHHH!-- and does whatever he can to embarrass the older boy (including pulling out a thread of his suit so that Joey flashed his cat-printed underthings at the student body). As I noted before, he was the mastermind behind cheating the girls in "Bro-Cave-a-Rooney." In "Helgaween-A-Rooney," it was Parker's idea to use the magic amulet (yes, magic amulet...) to clone themselves so they could go to the movies; his brainstorm to sell tickets to walk through his famous sister's bedroom in "Mom-A-Rooney." It's always something.

Sigh. Why is he like this? (And why are smart people either geeky, diabolical, or squares? Can't they simply be normal but intelligent?) And couldn't he just as easily be working to find a cure for cancer instead of trying to outsmart the masses? Where are his other interests? Why is the male Rooney the smart one?

Finally, there's the gawky, questionably-effeminate brother (I say questionably because he rides the line between "sissy" and "awkward pre-pubescent" just so)-- Joey is the older of the two Rooney brothers, but still younger than the twins. He has the unique duty of playing to two stereotypes: the overlooked middle-child, and the sissy-boy. His voice is squeaky; he loves cat- and tropical- printed clothing; he's sports-averse; he's scared of being injured; he's oft-overlooked. He's fun to watch because he gets a lot of one-liners, but he's also relegated to the side-kick role. Parker's sidekick, mostly. His uselessness is highlighted in "Helgaween-A-Rooney" when his evil doppelganger clone is mentally damaged (presumably from the magical amulet falling into hummus before the clone wish could be fully realized) and can only say, "Eeewy, eeewwy, ew." While one might argue he's the character with the most facets to his personality, one may not be altogether sure what makes him tick. A desire to be noticed, perhaps?

There are questions to be posed for his type, too, but at this juncture, why bother? (See? He's just been overlooked yet again!) The point is: everyone is playing a type. And that's tired.

It's irresponsible of networks--especially ones that produce shows for kids of impressionable ages--to keep churning out the same crap. It's doing a disservice to our society in perpetuating nonsensical and damaging stereotypes. It's undermining the work parents are doing to teach their kids equality, individualism, diversity (of interests). It's subtly teaching youngsters undesirable ways to behave, to use their talents, to look, to dress. It warps proper aspirations and replaces those with stereotypes.

To me, that wastes a perfect opportunity to have a family TV show and turns it into something I don't even want my kid to watch WITH me.  Eeewy, eeewwy, ew.

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

ACTION: New Year, KNOW You

The new year inevitably brings with it the illusion of a fresh start. "New Year, New You!" it says...everywhere. (For real-- google it.) The underlying suggestion is that we're not good enough, we need to change.

I'm not knocking change. As humans, we thirst for positive changes, for reaching new ideals. Ain't nothing wrong with that.

But January 1st carries with it the implication that, with the simple flip of a calendar page, everything will be different.

Suddenly, magically, this is the year you will finally lose the weight, get organized, read more, stop yelling. We make the resolutions, envision the changes, and then...  stay much the same. Even if we start trying to enact the changes, by summer (if not sooner) most resolutions are abandoned, forgotten, disregarded. (Check out these interesting stats on resolutions.)

Are we failures or fools? Do we lack self-control? Maybe. But I suspect it's more likely a matter of heaping way too much pressure on the so-called fresh start, and being unrealistic with ourselves about who we are.

Two things I've read since the clock struck midnight marking 2016 have led me to this conclusion.

First, this perspective on happiness. Alfred D. Souza notes: "For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin--real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, or a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life." (*Emphasis added by me.)

This sentiment resonated with me because I'm guilty of this. I seem always to be waiting for something to end before I can enjoy something else. But guess what happens? Even if the original something does end (& it sometimes doesn't), something else moves in to take its place! In turn, I'm constantly waiting and rarely enjoying. How sad.

Thus, what I need to be doing is consciously enjoying what's happening now. Sure, certain aspects of my life aren't currently at my self-imposed ideal. I can work on that. But working towards a goal, or working through a struggle, or accepting things as they are right now shouldn't keep me from enjoying life overall. 

Think about it: Every day--every moment in every day, really--is a fresh start.

So I've adopted the word ACTION as my motivator, my reminder. Action encompasses movement, activity, and now-ness. (Look at that--I created a new word form!) I'm not passive if I'm taking action, which means I'm living.

In an effort toward their own action, people might do well to release the propensity for beating themselves up when they lapse in what they set out to do, and start fresh right away (as opposed to "tomorrow" or "next week" or "next January 1st"). Just start fresh in that moment.

For instance, if you resolve to eat healthy food but find yourself elbow-deep in a bag of potato chips: stop. Fold up the bag and get rid of it. Go drink a glass of water. That's so much better than shrugging, muttering, "Well, I'll try again tomorrow," and continuing to shovel chips in your face. Try now; don't wait. Take action now.

But wait-- about those chips...will your hand be right back in the bag tomorrow?

You know yourself well enough to know if it will.

Which leads me to the second piece I read and loved. In Holstee's Mindful Matter series (which comes to me in my inbox and has some marvelous, thought-provoking ideas), Sheena Greer talks about taking on too much in The Cup List: On Living Realistically. The bit that stood out to me most was, "Realizing there are certain things that will simply never work in my life is not admitting failure. It’s being reflective about who I am, what I’m capable of, and what aspects of my life I truly need to change and what ones aren't worth fighting. If we are to successfully stretch our attention outward, we must first bend back into ourselves. And then move forward."

In sum, if we aren't honest with ourselves about who we are, we can set unrealistic expectations for ourselves that are destined to fail.

So if you're addicted to potato chips, it's probably pointless to swear off potato chips. Instead, buy yourself those snack pack portion-controlled bags and allow yourself one bag a day. 

Yesterday, on my ride home from the gym, high on endorphins, I felt the full impact of Greer's meaning for me.

I don't love the gym. In fact, I kind of hate it. It smells funky, it's sometimes crowded (especially this time of year), and the act of going there--stopping what I'm doing and changing into gym clothes and driving over and hoping the machine I want to use is available and functioning--can be a drag. In fact, because I spent so much of the latter half of 2015 sick, I ended up taking a hiatus from the gym for several months and have been considering canceling my membership. (For perspective, I'd been going to the gym almost daily for nearly three years until this past September when I had to take a break. Yesterday was my first day back.)

All morning yesterday I poked around, not sure if I would muster the gumption to get my butt out the door. But I did. And on the ride home, I was thrilled that I did.

Why? Because I realized anew that the gym WORKS for me. When I go, I achieve several things--things that are important to me--at once.

1. Since I work from home, getting out of the house provides a nice break from the demands of both my kids and my office. It's like a reset button each day.
2. I'm keeping in shape, strengthening my body.
3. (&, for me, most important) It's where I read for pleasure. I realized yesterday I hadn't read a single book since September, but I'd been tearing through titles before that. (I set up my iPad in front of me on the elliptical and read. It's a wonderful mind escape that distracts me from the monotony of the physical movement and makes the time pass quickly.) It's not that I don't read at home, but it turns out I don't tend to start books at home. There's too many distractions. At the gym, I can read uninterrupted for 32-minute stretches, and when I'm sufficiently hooked on a book, that's the point where I'll start stealing time at home to read more. I've said it in the past (but had forgotten until yesterday): I go to the gym so I can read. (And also, so I can eat cookies.)

I need the gym as part of my life and would be losing too much if I stopped going entirely. I'm glad I realized that about myself because it helps me stay realistic about my goals.

So now, because it's now--not because it's the dawn of a new calendar year--I propose that we not feel compelled to "fix" ourselves, but instead to know ourselves. If there's something there that we'd like to change, we should go about enacting that in a way that is in keeping with who we are and what matters to us. And, most importantly, we should always strive to remember as we move forward that there's no sense waiting for later to enjoy our lives now.

Happy action, people!

Monday, November 2, 2015

Halloween and How to Use Up Leftover Halloween Candy

I don't know about you, but Halloween here felt SO LAME this year. I imagined Halloween falling on a Saturday would mean tons of extra kids--maybe even groups of older kids--roaming the streets in costume, possibly staying out later than normal because it wasn't a school night. I was prepared for my normal crowd (we average around 50 trick-or-treaters each year, though last year we had closer to 70) and then some, with 87 bags each filled with 3-pieces of candy. (My younger daughter and I spent an evening last week sorting all our individual bags of Fun- and Snack-sized candy bars and then portioning three different bars into each festive bag. There was just one Milky Way left over. Oh, and the Twix and Xtreme Snickers I sampled while we worked...)

My husband is the one who takes the girls out. I'd like to go along and keep him company, but then there would be no one here to hand out candy. People have said, "Oh, just leave the bowl out with a sign to take a certain amount." But guess what? NO WAY. We did that one year--the year of the swine flu outbreak about four or five years back. My husband and older daughter (who, at the time, was an only child) were both sick, and I didn't think it was responsible to be opening the door over and over again and potentially spreading swine flu to unsuspecting kids, so I set the bowl out front around 6:30 with a note to take 3 pieces each. I peeked out at the bowl at 7. IT WAS EMPTY. Some jerk stole the contents of the entire bowl! Not cool. Soooo not cool. Anyway, never again with that.

Thus, I remain at home and hand out candy. Last year I started tracking my trick or treaters to help me better prepare for future candy-buying. (When I mentioned this to two of my friends, both of them laughed and said, "Only you..." I guess other people aren't as into collecting statistical data as I am. Hmm.) Anyway, I made a chart broken into 15-minute increments and tallied how many kids knocked on my door per time chunk. Because there were so many repeat costumes, I also tallied anything I saw on several kids. The most popular costumes last year in my neighborhood were Anna & Elsa, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Spider Man, and those dumb one-piece skin costumes that young boys like to wear for some inexplicable reason even though they look like walking...well, you know. 

This year, we only had 33 kids. 33! In three hours. UGH!

In case you're wondering at the breakdown (I know you aren't, but since I assembled the data, you're seeing it, dammit!) here it is:

6-6:15 --> 0
6:15-6:30 --> 1
6:30-6:45 --> 6
6:45-7 --> 4
7- 7:15 --> 3
7:15-7:30 --> 7 (all in one group)
7:30 - 8:15 --> 0!!! What is going ooooonnnnn?
8:15-8:30 --> 10 (6 in one group; all 10 in the latter part of the time chunk)
8:30-8:45 --> 2
8:45-9 --> 0

Interestingly, the array of costumes this year was quite broad. I didn't note any repeats, which is abnormal, but nice. And there were a lot of quality costumes. My favorites were a very well-done zombie, Dorothy (complete with Toto in a basket and really nice ruby slippers), and a duo in a Queen of Hearts and Alice in Wonderland garb. They all happened to be on teens/tweens.

While I was at home sitting around with the kittens waiting to hand out candy to people not coming to collect said candy, my kids were having a fab time getting tons of their own loot--my older daughter counted hers and had collected 235 pieces.

For perspective, that's 91 more pieces than the 144 I had remaining when the night was over. UGH!

This lead me to lament: WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH ALL THIS LEFTOVER CANDY???????????????????

I love baked goods, as you know. But candy on its own? Not so much.

The most logical thing to do with the candy, then, was figure out how to turn it into a baked good. I had to look no further than my favorite baking blog, Sally's Baking Addiction. There, I found a recipe for Candy Bar Blondies. (Just when you thought candy couldn't be less good-for-you, these happened. Lol!)

Unfortunately for your waistline, they were a snap to make. Here's a photo journal of how mine came together.

I started by chopping up 1 1/2 cups of candy bars. Use whatever you have on hand. I used 16 bars of Twix, Butterfingers, Snickers, Crunch, Baby Ruth, Milky Way, and 100 Grand. (I don't know if you noticed, but those Fun-size bars are shrinking more every year...What a rip-off!)

I mixed my wet ingredients in one bowl, my dry ingredients in another, then combined them according to the directions in the linked recipe.
Then in went the candy. It's almost equal parts candy and batter!
I folded in all that beautiful candy.
Next, I spread the thick batter in pan lined with foil. (This was the first time I've ever used regular and not heavy-duty foil. It is also the LAST time I will ever use regular and not heavy-duty foil.) It's a gooey, gloppy mess. But the yummiest mess with which I've ever dealt!
It baked at 350 until lightly browned on top. Mine took 30 minutes.
When slightly cooled, I removed it from the pan and peeled away from foil.
Then cut it into bars.

Finally, I served it. It can be warm and gooey, a la mode... (Admittedly, that was gluttonous. It really didn't need the ice cream. A glass of milk, however, is sorta necessary.)
...or on its own when completely cooled.

As you might imagine, it tastes like all your favorite candy bars had a baby. A delicious, caramel-y, peanutty, soft-yet-chewy baby that it is acceptable--nay, encouraged--to eat.

Now I just need to make 8 more pans of these and the candy will be gone.