Pasty

Note to Self: It's a bad idea to enter, "pasty examples," as a Google search. Next time, just go with, "pasty recipes."

Backtracking

Yesterday I was almost early for breakfast with friends. I say, "almost," because I stopped the car to add a few songs to a play list. (New Car plays my iTunes through the speaker. This is brilliant. Maybe even better than airbags because I use it more. That opinion will probably be reversed if I ever do have occasion to use those air bags. Anywho.) After adding to that playlist, I looked up to discover it had somehow been a half hour. And I was now late.
Since this is not really a new thing, the friends were not shocked. They were very gracious about my tardiness. No one pointed out how incredibly inconsiderate it is to be late. We had a lovely breakfast, and then they headed off to work and physical therapy while I walked down to the Hallmark store to pick up cards for the April birthdays and anniversaries. My "Cope" and "Encouragement" cards were also depleted, so there was a desire to re-stock the Sucks-to-be-You stationery. Armed with the calendar that lives in my phone, it was a relatively quick shopping trip.
With a little time to spare, I made a call to my Dad to see how a doctor's appointment had gone the day before while heading over to the market for produce. The call was short, but the shopping was excellent. Blueberries for $.88. (Be still my heart...) A rainbow of peppers on sale. Oooh, and Pink Lady apples... The pineapple smells yummy. All sorts of good things made it to the check out to be hauled out to the car.
Except that my newly awesome play list didn't kick in... and my phone was nowhere to be found even though I knew I had it since the conversation with my Dad ended after I walked into the market. Back in the store, retracing the path back through the check stand produced nothing. Wandering through the produce trying to remember if I used both hands to inspect the pineapple or pick through the blueberries produced more nothing. Finally, the workers putting out still more fruit and vegetables asked if I needed help. One headed off to see if a phone had been turned in while the other explained to me how to use the GPS tracking feature to find my missing piece of technology. Fortunately, the explanation was short-lived since someone had in fact turned in my phone.
Back at the car, I found a host of messages and missed calls. Not only had I left my phone somewhere in the market, but my reusable coffee cup was still at the Hallmark store. (This is the real reason why I have a reward card there... it's listed under my phone number.) The Hallmark ladies had been trying to call so I could return for my cup of now cold coffee. Backtracking seemed to be the order of the day.
It was likely nothing short of a miracle that I managed to remember the way home, though "Where Is My Mind," (added during that little pre-breakfast stop) was an entirely appropriate song to have playing along the way.

Tidbits: Expiration

• I cleaned out the fridge. "There are starving children in Africa/China..." ran through my head as a wrinkled bell pepper, fuzzy grapes, and a bottle of French Salad Dressing (Best By AUG0811) were revealed hiding out in the nether regions of the fridge. At least there were several items discovered approaching the toss date that have been moved up on the mental priority list for use.
• A letter from the Department of Public Safety states that my driver's license must be presented at the local DPS for renewal. Oh.but.no. Pleasant Suburb's DPS is legendary for the inefficiency of its staff and the length of the line to conduct any sort of business. Avoiding that office is one of the reasons my big kids do not drive. I'm not sure that I intend to continue driving if it means going to the DPS.
• Perfect has not yet asked Middle Child to the Winter Formal. Despite the back-up dress in the closet, there is still time to order the pretty, pretty princess dress online (Now Sale-priced!) if an invitation is issued by Friday. After that, we'll just be waiting to take back the shredded mullet dress within the 30-day window for returns if the dance is not added to Middle Child's calendar.

Stretch

I need to go to the grocer. In the spirit of enabling myself, the decision to attempt one of those pantry cleansings where one makes meals with the items already stocked has been made. The idea is intended to maintain a coupon queen's stockpile, prevent items from exceeding expiration dates, and allow one to shop according to sales. It can also stretch groceries until pay day. Such a brilliant idea can be turned as easily to procrastination as thrift.
To that end, I've taken stock of what's on hand. Staring into the refrigerator and freezer, the obvious answer to, "What's for dinner?" was a glass of wine and a bowl of ice cream. Suspicious that the mister might question the nutritional benefits (and legality as the lovies are all quite underage for alcohol consumption) of this plan, a pork roast was shifted from freezer to fridge to defrost for tomorrow. Pasta, cheese, herbs, and vegetables that can serve as a meatless meal between Skater Girl's lesson, Middle Child's youth group, and the mister's band rehearsal make a busy evening easy. With rice, beans, and assorted staples, it's likely that a grocery trip can be put off for the remainder of the week at least.

Tidbits: Exams

• That fall off of the front step last week? Yeah. Ow. The good news: The exam just confirmed bruising, but no damage to the implants or fractures. A little bad news: After the exam, the ortho doc removed a granuloma (scar tissue that formed around an internal stitch) that required a secondary incision on one of those still healing knees. Ow some more.
• I flunked another batch of biopsies at the dermatologist as well. Last Friday resulted in four new incision sites between the biopsies and the scar tissue. It was not a day that should be repeated. Ever.
• Speaking of doctors, December is always a little crazy trying to fit in the Specialists. By seeing them in December, each new year can start off without a legion of doctors and appointments. That's a desirable thing. It's also a time-consuming, sometimes worrisome thing. A thing that creates increasing gratitude for insurance coverage and the mister's employment as so many struggle without such provision.
• The Boy may graduate. He's thinking he will complete high school with up to 15 credit hours of college courses. In the self-paced program, that's largely up to him, but there are other factors. I wonder if, perhaps, the Boy is again counting his chickens before they are hatched. Sometimes he just lays an egg. So, rather than, "Yay!", his pronouncements are frequently met with questions, a measure of caution, and, still, hope that it will all work out for him.
• The local high school kids are attending for four hours per day with their exam schedules this week. Yesterday, the kitchen table was populated with teenagers. They are generally funny, bright kids who aren't put off by parents, and who welcome Moms to sit with them and chat the afternoon away. They do eat. A lot. One leaves behind an added link on the paper chain that reads, "The [Our Last Name]s because they feed me!" They feed us, too... with their laughter, their energy, and some questionable Spanish language over which they will be tested today.

Listing 2011, Part IV

The post-Thanksgiving listing of the good stuff goes on...

40. The "extra" teenagers who joined us to decorate the Christmas Tree this year.
39. Staying up late watching spy movies with Middle Child.
38. The possibility of our first freeze tonight.
37. Tomato Soup and Grilled Cheese Sandwiches for dinner.
36. Prayer.
35. That Skater Girl did not refer to "butt dialing" as a "booty call" in public before we discovered her mistaken assumption that they were the same thing.
34. That first whiff of pine as we walked past the Christmas Trees for sale at the market.
33. Belly laughs.
32. The start of Track Season for the Runner Girls on Monday.
31. The beginning of the Christmas message series at church this weekend.
30. Jane Austen.
29. Contentment.
28. My daughter wrapped in a quilt my mother made.
27. The trust of my children.
26. Memories.

Listing 2011, Part III

Thanksgiving was yesterday, but I'm continuing the list of things to be thankful for despite Black Friday:

50. I'm thankful for awareness:

Christmas Conspiracy from Christ Fellowship on Vimeo.

49. For the opportunities being offered through Reach Out Honduras that will open doors to those who live in need beyond what I have ever known.
48.  My son who has the potential to graduate from high school early if he can make the most of his opportunities.
47. Renewed relationships.
46. Giggling.
45. My mister. (He gets at least as many mentions as coffee... they're among my favorite addictions.)
44. Ally and Susan for backing up the theory that pumpkin pie is breakfast food.
43. Literacy.
42. Leftovers.
41. Being left-handed.

Listing 2011 Part II

75. Photos that capture an idea when words fail.
74. Buster and Maggie who always have a tail wagging greeting to welcome us home.
73. The machines that make multi-tasking easy. I mean you, Washer, Dryer, Dishwasher...
72. My in-laws who are spending Thanksgiving with the Boy today.
71. Inappropriate humor
70. Being surrounded by so much talent that I can make out three different songs being practiced simultaneously by the mister and his girls who are each in separate rooms.
69. Pie
68. A sonogram that showed no change in the Magical Mystery Lymph Node. Nothing to see there, movin' it along, people.
67. Our last reglarly scheduled weekend at the Little Country Church. And our return to our Home Church that's already begun.
66. Laughter
65. Gray hair
64. That my mister and I are still dating each other.
63. Google because it makes me smarter.
62. Jesus because He makes me certain.
61. The shapes Skater Girl's blade cut into the ice when she spins
60. Girly Coffee Dates
59. The Thanksgiving Team delivering food to needy families in Puerto Lempira, Honduras today to demonstrate God's provision rather than enjoying a turkey dinner with their loved ones at home.
58. Books
57. The mister making the coffee each morning while I'm still snoozing.
56. Big dreams and the bigger God who can make them reality.
55. For each time the light at the end of the tunnel is not a train.
54. The riot of color in the changing leaves.
53. Our monstrous Rosemary bush that grew from a single twig and survived a move.
52. Crock pots that make homemade possible even when Stay-at-Home-Mom is a misnomer.
51. That a list of a hundred reasons to be thankful will barely begin to cover all the good stuff.

Tidbits: Play Like a Girl

• Middle Child pulled off a tenth place Junior Varsity finish for her freshman year. Better than the place and the shiny medal is the new personal record. Her previous best time for two miles has been stuck at a smidge past 14 minutes. Her goal for the year was to finally come in under 14 minutes. The 13:50 finish that closed out the Cross Country season dropped Katie's personal best a full thirteen seconds.
• Middle Child has discovered that eating a whole roll of refrigerated cookie dough and washing it down with a slushy is a bad idea. It's a really bad idea after running two miles. Just FYI.
• Skater Girl landed her flip jump this week. It's best to gloss over the topic of how many falls were required in order to claim that first landing. Don't let the twinkie dress and glitter fool you. That kid is tough.
• We are putting together gift packages for our sponsored girls in Honduras. We wandered through Christmas-ready aisles looking at dolls and girly toys this morning. It occurred to me that I have rarely seen girls playing with dolls during our visits to Puerto Lempira. (Probably because there are real little ones to help tend...) Instead of a baby or Barbie, each of the girls will receive a new soccer ball. We have definitely seen those getting plenty of play time.

Vegging

The mister's boss embraces a vegan lifestyle. Middle Child's best friend is a vegetarian. While the Boy and Middle Child would likely opt in for an all animal-based meal plan, Skater Girl's radar has gone up in response to the possibilities of a vegetarian diet. She's requested a week-long experiment with vegetarian menus. I suspect her carnivorous sister will launch a full-scale rebellion, but the idea holds interest. I suspect that this suggestion is not simply borne of curiosity about a couple of individuals' lifestyles, but also because of some recent community opportunities to increase awareness of hunger.

A couple of local churches have recently participated in programs intended to raise awareness and funds for hunger relief, and that has brough the topic of the financial and ecological costs of red meat in particular to our discussions. One church suggested eating only beans and rice for a week to gain understanding of what it's like for those at Village of Hope to receive beans and rice for every meal. The grocery savings likely for many American households can then be donated to Village of Hope. Several local youth groups have been participants in the 30 Hour Famine in order to experience hunger personally while raising funds for another group in Africa combatting hunger. Pleasant Suburban Elementary is focused on hunger closer to home as the school children collect cans of fruit this week to supply our local food pantry. The food pantry also participates in an annual program called, "Scare Away Hunger," where trick-or-treaters collect canned goods. These different means of responding to the looming problem of hunger each has merit, and each one has been a topic in our home.
Skater Girl has heard how more rescources are required to produce a serving of beef than would be required to produce a serving of grain, fruit, legumes, nuts, or vegetables. Maybe this ecological reality is on her mind? Or is she thinking of the children she met across town who rely on food stamps in order to eat most meals? Is she remembering those we met in Honduras who would not have had food to eat without the efforts of Reach Out Honduras and  Send Hope? Has she been listening to her mother's fussing over the grocery budget and comments regarding the lower cost of vegetarian meals? Did she overhear her dad saying that Oreos are vegan and ice cream is vegetarian? There's no telling what has ultimately influenced the request to experience a week of vegetarian dining. Whatever piqued Skater Girl's curiosity, it will make an interesting challenge to prepare meals to suit this family and meet their nutritional needs without meat. There is definite relief that she didin't ask for a Vegan Week.

Golden

The 4th Graders from Pleasant Suburban Elementary have found a golden ticket! Well, a whole host of golden tickets. To go along with Roald Dahls' Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator reading (and an obvious movie tie-in as the school year winds down...), the teachers granted all of their students a "golden ticket" much as the group of lucky winners in the story's contest received. Like Charlie and company's golden tickets, the ones received will also grant admittance for to visit a purveyor of all things sweet.
Of course, this particular field trip will also tie in nicely to this year's study of Texas History as the location of the family-owned Mary of Puddin Hill was granted to the original Mary's family after theTexas Revolutionary War. Can I just say again that I LOVE these teachers?! Doubly so as the iconic sweet shop will close its doors in a few days for good making these students amongst the last customers to visit, and, of course, anything that brings literature and history to life is a winner in my book... as are the chocolate covered oreos.

Unlikely

Finally! I've missed the weekly and biweekly scheduled volunteer shifts at the children's shelter and the after school program immensely over the Christmas break and then the extended vacation from volunteerism with snow days, days off of school, and other opportunities for the  organizations to givew their volunteers a day off. Last week, it was good to be back at the shelter for children who have needed an emergency removal from abusive situations, and this week saw the return to helping with homework and hanging out over at Neighbor 2 Neighbor on the east side of Pleasant Suburb.
Making the drive over, it was good to be headed back to the apartment complex where the program ministers. Pulling into a parking space, I was watching for familiar faces. Sure enough K. came across the parking lot as I got out. "Hey! What're you doin' here?!" was the greeting. "I came to hang out and help with homework. What about you?" was my response in a similarly confrontational tone. K.'s answering smile made my day. He informed me that he was glad I was there. That made two of us.
K. was reading a chapter book based on a t.v. show today. That's big improvement over last semester when he was still reading simpler stories. We talked about the book and discussed whether or not we had ever eaten, "tapenade". (I had not, but since it's made with olives I theorized that it was salty. He had not either, but he thought it sounded sweet.) Eventually, he got up and left with his friends.
I know it's good to rest. To take a break from time to time. I'm also entirely thrilled to be back to our regular routine.

Motions

It will all work out in the kitchen. The processes of gathering the odds and ends and putting the ingredients together to create something are soothing. Fortunately, there is almost always an activity waiting to busy the hands while the mind chases down rabbit trails and wrestles with the often not-so-fuzzy bunnies to be found along the way. The process of food preparation is soothing, the art of combining ingredients and arranging plates resonates with the need to create, and hunger is cyclic guaranteeing endless opportunity.
The large trays are slapped out onto the counter followed by the packages of meat, cheese, and the bakery boxes. Glaring at the knife, the croissants fall victim to the thoughts rattling about in my head. The thoughts heave and roil, but I am going forward making dozens and dozens of sandwiches for the hundreds who will gather today. The process allows for taking out my unnamed emotions on the hapless meat, cheese, and bread combinations until the trays are piled too high for a lid to fit over them and Little Bit is begging for a ride to school before the tardy bell catches her out.
Sliding the trays into the fridge until this afternoon's memorial service, I reach for the keys the fourth grader has helpfully found. In yesterday's shirt, fuzzy socks with a pair of flats that were located in the kitchen, and a pair of sweats (from the furthest possible color family from the shirt) we stand by the car where my mismatched attire only registers as a neighbor drives by staring. We drive to the school where Erin confirms that she will be picked up early today and that her fractions homework is on her iPod ready to work on while the adults congregate at the church. She specifies which clothes she wants brought for skating (since there may not be time to come home and change before practice and her lesson tonight), and then she's off.
On the drive home, I pray. Turning into our neighborhood the stray thought invades that there was a time when the idea of praying for an hour was a serious discipline that I questioned--- wondering if it would be likely to become repetitive to pray for so long. Today that errant thought brings a sharp, barking cough of ironic laughter. Stuffing down the direction of the thoughts that threaten escape along those lines, I am back to the list of Prayer Requests. Running through them with hope, amusement, sadness, and the various emotions that embellish such prayers, until I reach the house where it's time to turn around again to take Middle Child and her science fair project to school.
Eventually, the activity of the morning slows temporarily. The kids off to school, the mister at work, and the food for this afternoon ready to go means there's no huge rush this morning despite a list of errands to run. Moving a load of laundry into the dryer, I head upstairs to knock out a few miles on the elliptical. After a few minutes and a single mile, I give up and head for the shower. There is no peace in this activity, and the to-do list of minor tasks to be ready for the memorial beckons relentlessly despite plenty of time.
Once in the shower, it all comes undone. The desire to celebrate a life well lived gives way in that private moment to the overwhelming loss of that rare breed: a truly great man. The normalcy of the morning is offensive in light of this loss. We were not created for this, and today I feel it keenly. The tears are not cathartic. This is no more than the tip of the iceberg, and I sense that there's far more grief waiting jagged and irregular below the otherwise calm surface; however, I step out of the shower to dry myself and the tears simultaneously in order to get on with all that needs doing today.

Whoopsie

Frequently, I feel smug reading the little blog posts that pop up in my home page's features about substituting high-fat,-sodium, -calorie, or chemically creepy foods with better-for-you choices. That smugness presages an obvious conclusion. Pride comes before a fall. Always. Into that same browser that so often says lovely things about dietary choices, the words calories+sunflower+seed+kernels was typed with the expectation that there would be happiness galore in the nutritional news. Selecting a known and trusted nutritional info entity to answer the query regarding the latest favorite snack was quick enough. The window opened, and after a moment of shocked silence the howling began.
Those tiny, yummy kernels have been mindlessly popped down my gullet for several days a half cup or a cup at a time thinking that they are chock full o' wholesome things like fiber and protein. They're good-for-you. It's not like inhaling cheesecake. Because cheesecake would've saved some calories. Sunflower seed kernels have 745 calories per cup. And I've definitely consumed a minimum of 5 cups over the past couple of days. One pound = 3,500 calories. I thought the scale was off this morning, but, no. It was the sunflower seeds. For the record: it was so not worth it.
But. If you're ever in the market to put on a few pounds quickly: Sunflower Seeds. Now you know.

Recipe

This morning was spent in the kitchen knowing that tomorrow is going to be hectic with a memorial service, kids back in school, the middle school science fair projects due, and both girls' skating lessons. A batch of bulk sausage browned for a breakfast casserole. Another batch browned with Rosemary, Basil, Oregano, and Black Pepper for a quick pasta sauce tomorrow. Finally, a pound of ground beef browned with green and red bell peppers, dried onion, oregano, and garlic. The breakfast sausage was sprinkled over slices of buttered bread in a foil baking pan. The hamburger was divided into a batch to mix with the Italian seasoned sausage and another tossed into the open mouth of the crock pot. The breakfast casserole was sprinkled with cheese, black pepper, and a creamy egg mixture was poured over the top before the pan was covered with first a sheet of foil and then a plastic lid that featured quickly scrawled baking instructions in black Sharpie. The breakfast casserole occupied a shelf in the fridge until time to deliver it to friends later, and it was back to the sausage and beef mixture with the Italian seasonings which were also to be sealed away in the fridge until needed. Finally, the crock pot received the makings of tortilla soup to go with the remaining seasoned beef. A sprinkle of chili powder and cumin finished off the soup for our lunch. Whew.

Erin wandered down into the kitchen shortly after the multi-meal prep fest was cleaned up. She had her homework assignment in hand, and pointed to the reading assignment for the week. Eh? Really... She needs a family recipe that she can write down. Then she is to follow the recipe to actually make the dish. A parent is to sign off on this specifying whether Erin made the dish from the recipe on her own or with help. Well, of course. So we made dessert.

Tidbits: Brrr.

• Warning: Knit gloves can become entangled in orthodontia. Should one's gloves become caught in one's brackets, seek a mother out immediately. She can probably fix it, and if you plead the photos won't be posted to Facebook or her blog.
• Cinnamon Vanilla Pancakes eaten while still in one's pajamas snug in a nice, warm kitchen looking out the window at the night's snow accumulation may be a perfect breakfast.
• The weather may be affecting Middle Child's hunt for a Science Fair Project on the net. (Her original project "...had too many variables,", and she messed around too long to be able to complete it.) Most of her ideas center around snow and ice. I wonder if the Home School population is skewing the online results by searching for science projects with ice/snow today?
• If the back door is left wide open, the heater cannot keep up. I do not care if, "Bella [the cat] wanted to go outside."

Fuel

Whirlwind day... that started at 3:00 a.m. There were good reasons for the wee hours wake-up call. In Texas, a forecast that so much as hints of snow or rain causes a run on the grocery for milk and bread. Those two items were at the top of my grocery list, so I rolled out of bed to shower and dress at dark o'clock. Running to the 24 hour market while the mister showered knowing that I prefer not to slide around on the roads drive in potentially icy conditions meant a cart full of the odds and ends that would make meals out of the sundry items in the pantry. Stops on the way home saw the car filled up with gas and donuts for the girls' breakfast in our absence. Finally, the car pulled up at home to unload the groceries and hit the road while the sky was still dark.
While saner people were snoozing snug in their beds, the two of us followed one highway until it met another taking us south. I pulled up our son's new address on my phone and watched as the blue dot that was our vehicle move in slow blips toward the red dot in it's unfamiliar location. Just after 9:00, we were sharing hugs with our Boy for the first time since December. The two hour visit passed quickly, and we departed too soon freeing up space for other visitors shuffling into the sterility of the communal space. We were fortunate to see him because he expects to move from his orientation on to a new location anytime after Tuesday. Again the reality of the unknown with the bonus of a roadside stop involving a sodium-soaked chicken sandwich with a side of greasy tater tots. And an ice cream cone.
Freed up from the tyranny of the grocery list (and a little sorry about the lunch choices and the leftover donut eaten on returning home before topping it off with a taste of ), a nap was in order once we made it back home. The mister nudged me back into consciousness just after 5:00 in the evening. Which was great, except that I had a meal to deliver between 5:30 and 6:00 for our recently bereaved friends, and the manicotti needed to bake for 45 minutes. Rushing down the stairs to pop the stuffed pasta shells into the oven, it was a race to get the salad fixings washed and prepped. Tossing everything into a bowl, the sudden knowledge of an item left off the grocery list carried the mister out the door while the crazed veggie slicing continued. He came through the door in time for the bread to go in the oven while the mozzarella slices were layered with the tomatoes sprinkled liberally with basil. The (teasing) text came across at 5 after 6:00, "Where's our food?"
I called Lisa to inform her that her food was coming on Holly Time. Explaining about how the family's dinner fell behind because I was napping in the Land That Time Forgot, I promised we would be there soon. Only to realize there was no dessert. "Um. How important is dessert?" She informed me that someone making a condolence call had just dropped off the mother of all goody trays from a local bakery. Perfect. The dinner could be there in about ten minutes since there was no stopping to pick up a ready-made treat to top off the meal. Don and I drove over together since he had yet to make his condolence call.
We'd covered hundreds of miles to love on those dear to us over the course of the day. On our way home, the low fuel light lit up. We covered over 300 miles in the space of 13 hours seeing the sun rise from inside the car and remarking on the clouds coming in as it set with the pair of us again going down the road away from home. The car was running on fumes, but we were far from running on empty considering the blessing of so many loved ones with which we share our lives.

Priorities

Pretzels... only better.

Because I have discovered a distinct inability to do it all, I asked the family to please indicate just what specifically was most important about Christmas tradition/celebration/revelry/expectations so that I could prioritize appropriately.  Little Bit's unequivocal statement was "baking and making treats," followed by a request for chocolate-dipped pretzels.

My mister steered me down the baking, candy, and chip aisles at Super Store to toss bags of white and milk chocolate chips, Starlight mints, and regular M&M's in the cart along with a bag of great big pretzels. My inner Grinch grumbled about how we could have picked up the conveniently prepackaged M&M variety that already had a pretzel inside and a package of peppermint bark with similar results, less cost, and way less mess.
Back at home, the makings out on the counter, I called the girls to the kitchen saying I needed some help. They actually showed up despite the likelihood that chores would be involved with such a summons. Those two were instantly certain of what the particular ingredients laying on the counter signaled.
As "The Nutcracker" played on the living room t.v., we melted the chocolate in small batches. The girls were delighted to take a hammer to ziploc bags of candies to produce the finely crushed consistency needed for adorning our chocolaty treats. The mess-making commenced even as Herr Drosselmeier was tossing the wooden nutcracker offstage so he could pop back up on stage as a real boy complete with tights and poufy hair. The task went quickly, and we had a line-up of pretty munchies before the herd of dancing snowflakes could fill the screen with their whirling tutus.

Threatening

Having made my cookies (and eaten none too few, too), this morning's Moment of Truth arrived. The MoT involves stepping onto the bathroom scale that abides in the study. (It lurks behind my desk. I can feel it there now. Stalker.) The number has crept back up to where it was a couple of weeks ago. A couple of weeks during which someone ordered new one-size-smaller jeans. (Uh-oh.) The one-size-smaller jeans fit. They just need not fit quite as well as they do right now, and it's hardly a mystery as to why the scale reveals the return of those lost-and-found four pounds. Dessert + little jeans = strained seams. Today, I am going to substitute an extra couple of miles walking in hopes of relieving the pressure on those seams, and still being able to prance around feeling self-congratulatory in my skinnier-than-I-thought-possible jeans.

Stomped Goblins

We made Stomped Goblins yesterday. That means it's October around here because the cookies are an annual Fall family treat. (I've also heard them called Monster Cookies.) My mother used to make them at Halloween, and she would call them, "Stomped Goblins," saying, "That's what they look like!" Going with tradition, that is the name we use. The recipe follows:

Stomped Goblins
2 sticks butter
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup brown sugar, tightly packed
2 eggs, well beaten
2 cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla
1 cup each: uncooked quick oats, corn flakes
1/2 cup each: chopped pecans, coconut, semisweet chocolate chips, butterscotch chips

Cream together butter and sugars. Add eggs. Sift together flour, baking soda, and baking powder. Mix in dry ingredients and add vanilla. Fold in quick oats, corn flakes, pecans, coconut, and chips. Refrigerate finished dough tightly covered for two hours.
Preheat oven to 350. Drop by rounded tablespoon onto a cookie sheet covered with parchment paper. Bake for 8-10 minutes until edges are brown and center is done.