Next year, I'm going as Denny's

Hope you had a wonderful, charred potato-free, Halloween.

Sliced bread did not make the cut either

The Atlantic just published a list of The 50 Greatest Breakthroughs Since the Wheel*.

On it:
Paper (#6)
Refrigeration  (#13)
The automobile (#18)
Anesthesia (#46)
Alphabetization (#25)
The pill (#20)
The Internet (#9)

Not on it:
Pumpkin Spice Lattes from Starbucks**

So just calm the f#%$ down, people.

It is OK, though, to get a little happy about this (Pumpkin) Spiced Brown Butter Cookie Brittle.

Falling Back

Here's the thing about blogging, at least the way I do it.  I cook something, and then I write about it after we eat it*.   Days, weeks, or even months pass between consumption and posting, because honestly, that's just how s@#$ goes around here.

The problem with this system** for the reader***  is that there can be a bit of a timing issue. For example, last year I posted the recipes for a fabulous Thanksgiving dinner shortly before Christmas.  I have been known to suggest making eggnog scones when the aisles of the grocery store are full of frilly red boxes of chocolate.  And recently, I dangled tantalizing images of heirloom tomato pies just in time for people to head out to their local U-Pick apple orchard.

As Charlie Brown**** would say, "Argh!"

I think about this sometimes and despair.  Like today. I was driving through vast stretches of the midwest admiring the spectacular foliage while having a mild panic attack about the fact that daylight savings time is ending soon and I'm still grappling with a post about summer corn salad.  Then, it hit me.

I could truly fall back.
As in, resurrect some autumn favorites from the archives, and share them ahead of time*****.

Good grief, Charlie Brown! Why didn't I think of this sooner?******

I'll turn it in later for partial credit

I gave myself an assignment to post about this*:

But then I came home and found this:

Sigh.  The damn dog actually ate my homework.

* A gluten-free version of my Sugar and Spice Pumpkin Bread with a Pecan Glaze.  I'm pretty sure it was good, but only the furball can say for sure.  I'll have to make it again later this week, taste it real quick, then let you know.

Slumber Party

I just got back from a slumber party with my girlfriends*.

The view from our slumber party locale

Aside from the improved scenery, things have definitely changed since I was my daughter's age.

What we ate then:

Pizza
Potato chips
Cheetos
Soda
Cupcakes with sprinkles
Candy that makes your tongue turn blue and/or red, preferably in powder form from a stick
Bubble Yum, all flavors
More soda, even though mom really wanted you to stop jumping around and go to sleep
Jiffy Pop popcorn, burnt on one side where the foil got too hot
Stacks of pancakes, bacon, sausages and extra syrup the morning after

What we ate now:

Oreccehiette pasta with kale and lean chicken sausage
Carrot sticks and raw peppers
Cashews
Blue cheese, salami and rosemary crackers
Fennel soup
Butter lettuce salad with shallot vinaigrette
Burrata burgers with heirloom tomatoes and pesto
8 bottles of chardonnay
2 bottles of pinot noir
2 six packs of beer
Half a bottle of gin
Dark chocolate covered marshmallows**
Several rounds of cocktails with names like "The Recovery" and "The Reef"
Strong, strong coffee the morning after

The aforementioned burrata burger

But a lot of things hadn't changed at all.

There was an inordinate amount of giggling, inappropriate language, and gossip. Grown-ups shushed us, and at one point during lunch we all had to hide our faces, dying of a combination of embarrassment and hysterics. We talked about boys we liked***, danced around in our pajamas, watched videos, and played games.  Somebody snuck a cigarette. Plans for the weekend and the rest of our lives were given serious consideration and debate. We stayed up way past our bedtimes****, wore sweatpants and fuzzy socks, and made fart jokes. And when it was time to leave, we couldn't believe how fast the time had gone.

Don't get me wrong. I loved a good slumber party when I was a kid. But I have to say, the adult version is a gazillion times better.

And tastier.

Possibly over-reacting

Him:  Hey, Mom, I need your credit card so I can pay for my college applications.
Me:

I may have also threatened to impale myself on these skewers.

Koyaanisqatsi incarnate

In the Hopi language, the word Koyaanisqatsi means "unbalanced life"*.

I'm pretty sure some time-travelling Hopi shaman followed me around for the month of September, went back home, gathered the village up to tell them of his terrible visions, and, after the children stopped crying, decided to pray.

Shaman: "Oh, Spirit of the Sun!  Let us never, ever, work so damn much that we cannot type up a recipe and put it on the Internet!"

Sun Spirit: "For sure, my son. That existence doth suck** and shall make you fat and grumpy.  Here is a word with a lot of vowels and a Q with no U.  Say it in pity for that poor woman, six times slowly and portentously, in a really deep voice.  I'm talking rumbling, auto-tune deep here, understand? Now go in peace, with my blessing."

Then all was right again with the great Hopi nation.

If it worked for them, it can work for me. I am going to grab a kachina doll***, rumble a little, and try to get my life back into balance.

Starting with this recipe I typed up to put on the Internet.