Grumpy Old Lady Makes Gluten Free Cookies

I have felt A LOT like Grumpy Old Man lately.

All these KIDS going to COLLEGE and AFRICA and DRIVING and dating WOMEN FROM FLORIDA.

All these puppies who eat SCREEN DOORS and VALUABLE SUCCULENT PLANTS.

 Sure, they're cute and happy, but they are TOTALLY NOT DOING ANY CHORES RIGHT NOW.  

I want things the way they used to be. When kids stayed home and paid attention when you talked to them. When dogs stayed, period. When life was simple and cookies were made with a crapload of gluten and WE LIKED IT!

Friggin' progress.

Rotating In

When you are a kid, the whole concept of taking turns and sharing is pretty challenging to grasp.

Image from GoComics.com

Then, when you get older, sharing becomes almost normal. Think group projects in college, or carpooling to work.

When you have kids, divvying things up is less optional and more a matter of preserving your sanity and achieving critical mass in the face of overwhelming odds.  And then, when the kids get older or even disappear, shared arrangements between friends become a coveted luxury.

I hit the jackpot with my carpool moms, and I've hit another home run with my weekly game night group.  Hostessing duties move from one home to another, giving us a chance to cook fancy or light as the mood strikes us, to try new things or old favorites, and crack open a bottle or two while we're at it. I've collected awesome recipes from my cohorts, like roasted chicken, summer pasta salad with roasted baby tomatoes, or a light and easy Caesar dressing for any weeknight. Mostly the dinners are low key, although I do go a little bit nuts with the birthday desserts for the group.  Most notably this one, this one, this one and this one. 

And now, this one.



Super simple supper with a crazy celebration dessert.  Both recipes are going right into regular rotation*.

Traveling for Work

I have a job. I love the people I work with and the products we make.  Not to mention the dress code of t-shirts and jeans when we don't have customer meetings.  Even more incredibly, the office is a three minute walk from my house*.

Some days, though, work does take me a little farther away from home.

It's a really, really good job.

I haven't yet figured out how to duplicate the astonishing cheese and custard filled cake from the night market in Taipei, or the perfectly fried chicken with hot chiles from Hong Kong.

But the killer sweet-spicy skillet cornbread with maple butter I had in Eden Prairie, Minnesota?



I could google that one.

Extraction Pains

"They've got to come out."

"Putting it off will only make things worse."

"It's not healthy in the long run to keep them."

"They desperately need space."

"It's time."

The dentist was talking about my son's wisdom teeth.

I was thinking about leaving my daughter on a curb at JFK airport with bulging duffle bag and a ticket to Africa.

He got ice packs and meds for his extraction pain.



I got to come home* and make milkshakes for both of us.

His recovery is going great, especially now that the freezer is fully stocked with ice cream**.

Me?
I'm still poking at the hole that was left behind***.

Do you know the muffin man?

Apparently, he lives on Drury Lane.
Too far, far away* for you?

Make your own muffin, man.

Honey, I burned the sugar*

...and baked it into cookies.

Burn, baby, burn!

Burn that motha' down!

The long distance birthday

Today, my son is finishing up his first year of college.  He'll be going to one last class, saying goodbye to his roommate and friends for the summer, covering up holes in his wall with toothpaste, and stuffing a pile of dirty clothes into a duffel bag before turning in his keys and leaving campus behind.



He will do all of this on his own, just like he experienced all the rest of freshman year for himself. Thinking back*, I don't think I appreciated how much of a gift this independence was for me. How foundational having the space to misbehave and strive and goof off and win and fall down and lose sleep and connect and love and eat poorly and bond and learn and type and cheer and drink and run and get naked and question and write and be me would be.  It was, I think, one of the most important periods of my life.  My parents had no part in it. None.

That is as it should be.  But I kinda wish my mom was around now so I could tell her I get it. Long distance relationships are tough.  Long distance motherhood is brutal.

And then, just to make it that much worse, the first birthday away from home comes around.

Yep. Today is his 19th birthday. He's there. I'm here.

Deep breath. Text. Call. Bake.

Tomorrow, he'll be here.  Tomorrow, we'll have cake.