Am…musings

My mom has a wonderful theory on relationships and old friends … that you will always have a bond with those who are meant to be in your life, even if you live apart, and whenever you see each other you will fall back into your relationship as though no time has passed.

The theory was put to a true test a year ago. Last Thanksgiving we traveled to Dallas to spend the weekend with my cousin Melissa, who we hadn’t seen in nearly 20 years, and her husband and 5-year-old son we’d never met.

As I mentioned on the eve of last year’s trip, I’m an only child and Melissa and I were like sisters as kids … weekend sleepovers, summer vacations, the same Christmas presents every year (matching clothes, roller skates and 10-speeds … gotta love the ‘70s!). As some friends … and I imagine even some siblings … do, we grew apart as we grew older. Then as a result of a little family drama that had little if anything to do with us, we completely drifted apart after 1990 or so.

After several visits with out-of-town friends last year, I blogged about mom’s theory. She’s always been right, and the theory rang true once again during our wonderful visit with Melissa and her family last year. This year, we are back again to celebrate Thanksgiving, and she and her family also visited us in St. Louis last summer.

Melissa and I also get a kick out of the fact that my mom’s theory is so right that we fell back into our old habit … matching shoes last year and the exact same boots and nearly matching shirts this year.

Kathy, the mother of two of my favorite people … and an amazing person herself, is an awesome cook. Her daughter (one of the aforementioned favorite people) brought this great dish to a dinner party a few years ago. I have since made it for a few occasions at work. Our annual Thanksgiving Potluck was last week and a few coworkers requested I make it again.

I love it because it’s yummy, very cheap and so easy. Open two cans, a box, melt some butter, mix and viola. This time I even put it in my beloved big mixer, which was way overkill because it’s so simple to mix.

Cornbread Casserole

½ stick butter, melted
1 can creamed corn
1 can whole kernel corn
1 packages Jiffy cornbread mix
Shredded cheddar cheese (optional)
Green, red or jalapeno pepper (optional)*

Mix melted butter, both cans of corn and cornbread mix together.

If using peppers, dice into very small pieces and add to taste (with jalapeno, remember the heat is in the seeds, removing them all yields very little spice).

Bake at 350 degrees for 35 to 40 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean.

If using cheese, scatter on top about three minutes before removing dish from oven.

*I tried finely sliced green onion (green portion only) this time and was pleased with the results.

In addition to the virgin letters that inspired a recent post (which caused a great deal of discussion in my office, btw), this month’s Glamour was chock full of little tidbits. Here’s one …

I haven’t really been an SNL fan since the 70s … when it was fun and seemed a bit taboo to watch as a kid, but Amy Poehler always made me laugh when I’d seen clips or occasionally tuned in. I’m also impressed that she’s married to the very funny and clever Will Arnett. This month Poehler was featured as one of Glamour magazine’s Women of 2009. The blurb about her accomplishments, which focus on empowering young women, mentioned Smart Girls at the Party, a Web show hosted by Poehler. The wonderfully named show celebrates girls who are changing the world by being themselves. Encourage the young girls in your life to check it out at On Networks.

My bah humbug-iness hadn’t really subsided while I put up my beautiful holiday decorations in the bedroom about an hour ago. I think it’s just too early, but like I said yesterday, I know I’ll be happier in the long run for doing this today.

But then … I opened another box and found the cutest of all cute decorations.

When Clarice kisses Rudolph on the check his nose flashes and sound from the movie plays … “I’m cute! I’m cute! She said I’m cute!” It just makes my heart smile.

Thanks to my cousin in Dallas for having hers out at Thanksgiving last year, and for the kismet that lead me to find one a few days after Christmas at the Hallmark in the New York City Port Authority Bus Terminal after several failed trips to other Hallmarks.

I’ve been bah humbugging the Christmas creep for the past few weeks. Two radio stations in the ‘Lou have … exasperatingly … been playing holiday music non-stop since the day after Halloween. The Salvation Army was already ringing the bell at my local grocery store last weekend. And I can even remember how long I’ve been spying Christmas stuff in department and big box stores … it certainly feels like it started in July, and I sigh every time I spot it.

So … I have to admit I’m a bit of a hypocrite. I just brought some Christmas things upstairs and plan to start decorating tomorrow.

Honestly, I haven’t gotten my fill of my pretty fall things, but I’m going to be out of town for the better part of the next two weekends. From past experience, if I don’t get a jump on holiday prep over the long Thanksgiving weekend, I tend to feel like I’ll never get all the shopping, card making, cookie baking, wrapping and decorating done by Christmas.

I adore the days between Thanksgiving and January 2 … spending time with friends and family, appreciating the true meaning of Christmas, celebrating a fresh new year. Getting things done this weekend will allow me to enjoy it, rather than fret about cramming everything in. But I will be considerate … saving the tree, which goes in the front window, and the outside decs until later so I don’t force my personal Christmas creep on others. And I definitely will not bust out the holiday music until post-Thanksgiving … unless I happen to run across my Elvis Christmas CD while unpacking. It’s been my favorite since I was a kid and I may not be able to resist … hypocrite or not!

I’ve been wallowing a little bit lately. My last post was way down in the wallow-dom, but I was smacked upside the head with a “things could be waaay worse” moment while reading my Glamour mag yesterday. The October issue featured a fun, somewhat irreverent article about a 27-year-old virgin. December’s letter to the editors were penned by a 29-year-old-virgin and a 32-year-old virgin. I am not at all judging these women for their choices, but THANK GOD I am not among their ranks. I imagine I’d either be a raging bitch or would have settled and married some moron … just for sex.

On a more serious note (not that virgins aren’t serious) … I also thought about a good friend of mine after my last post. She was married and then had to raise three kids on her own when her husband walked out (while she was pregnant with their third child – yeah, a total ass). In her experience, being truly alone … even in motherhood … was easier than being alone in their failing marriage. She said it was the worst feeling to have to brave life’s challenges on her own when her husband should have been facing them with her. I imagine that aloneness with an overwhelming sense of betrayal would be much worse, and I am thankful for this time it’s taking me to find the right man.

In college, a friend of my roommate predicted I’d be a DINK (dual income, no kids). He was a granola type who didn’t really know me, but quickly pegged me as a yuppy. The comment was meant as an insult, and I took it that way.

It wasn’t that I judged those who chose not to or were unable to have kids. To him, being a DINK meant someone who was selfish and into the “things” in life … and no one wants to hear that about themselves. Plus I’d always thought I’d be a good mom, and his flippant comment hurt my feelings.

Fast forward nearly 20 years, and I say bring on the DINK-dom.

Why the change of heart? A few weeks ago, my dishwasher quit working. Yesterday, my garbage disposal exploded. Today, my car left a puddle of antifreeze on my driveway, overheated on my way home and is currently sitting at the repair shop. I’m also pretty sure my furnace isn’t going to make it through the winter. It’s not just the dual income I’m after … although some extra cash would be nice with the expenses racking up. And I haven’t entirely given up on having kids. But honestly, every time one of these calamities strikes, I’m reminded of my aloneness.

Sure, I can call my parents or a friend (and I’m extremely grateful for their love and support), but it doesn’t seem the same as having a husband or even a partner (Goldie Hawn/Kurt Russell style) to rely on … and to help me clean up the mess. Exploding disposals are pretty nasty.

Betty (as in Crocker) rarely lets me down. Her recipes aren’t exotic or fancy, but when it comes to the basics, I think her cookbooks and recipes are among the best … except the blueberry muffins. Her recipe calls for a streusel topping that probably isn’t complicated to make, but just seems like a hassle on a lazy Saturday or Sunday morning. Without the topping, which contains nearly all of the recipe’s sugar, the muffins are tart and nearly tasteless.

So this morning I went a-Googling for something better. I’m a fan of light cooking so searched for “Cooking Light blueberry muffins.” I found a Cooking Light community forum and a recipe posted by KCSoccer from Susan Purdy’s Have Your Cake and Eat It, Too: Two Hundred Luscious, Low-Fat Cakes, Pies, Cookies, Puddings, and Other Desserts You Thought You Could Never Eat Again.

The recipe was easy to prepare and tasted great. It also included an option for baking it in a square pan, which was fantastic because I hate washing muffin pans with a passion.

Old-Fashioned Blueberry Muffins

1 large egg
1/2 cup skim milk — or 1%
1/2 cup nonfat vanilla yogurt
3 tablespoons canola oil
1/2 cup sugar
2 cups all-purpose flour, unsifted (can substitute wheat flour for ½ the amount)
1 tablespoon — plus 1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen blueberries
Granulated sugar

Position a rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 400 degrees.

Coat pan with cooking spray.

In a large bowl, whisk together the egg, milk, yogurt, oil and sugar.

Set a strainer over the bowl and add the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Stir and sift the dry ingredients onto the egg mixture, then stir just to blend. Don’t overbeat.

Fold in the berries.

Divide batter among 12 muffin cups. Sprinkle tops with a little sugar.

Bake for about 20 minutes, or until the tops of the muffins are well risen and golden brown, and a cake tester inserted in a muffin comes out clean (requires about 10 more minutes in cake pan, but begin checking for doneness at 20 minutes).

Cool muffins in the pan on a wire rack for 5 minutes.

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Per Serving (excluding unknown items): 163 Calories; 4g Fat (22.3% calories from fat); 4g Protein; 28g Carbohydrate; 1g Dietary Fiber; 16mg Cholesterol; 243mg Sodium.

NOTE: This recipes works equally well as a coffee cake baked in an 8×8 (bake 25 to 30 minutes).

As a girl, I guess I’m supposed to be terrified of spiders. I actually dig ‘em … although not in an “I’m going to go out and get a tarantula” kind of way. I guess I’d classify it as a healthy respect or even slightly anxious amazement. It boils down to the fact that I’m mesmerized by the beauty of their intricate and useful webs and the apparent ease with which they weave them.

Also, the aforementioned Mrs. Schlueter instilled compassion in us and encouraged us to not kill bugs … outdoors or indoors (she advocated the tissue method for getting them back outside). For Mrs. Schlueter, this compassion extended to other creatures … we actually had a bat come into our classroom and she practically freaked when someone suggested killing it. However, in my book this courtesy does not extend to anything that can sting me, as well as mosquitoes, flies, roaches or June bug … and if a bat or snake came into my house … I’d first hyperventilate and then call someone to whack ‘em.

That said, I pretty much leave spiders alone in the house … unless they look like a Brown Recluse or are potentially large enough to wreak havoc with a bite. And when they are outside, I definitely don’t bother them … and occasionally enjoy watching them, which is the case now and was two years ago. In both cases two fairly large spiders wove large webs between my soffit and the bushes below … two years ago, it was a gorgeous white one and this year, it’s a more traditional black and brown. Amazing!

I am now Facebook friends with the first boy I ever kissed. I was in third grade and he was an “older man” … in fourth grade. We really didn’t stay too close of friends after that, although we were neighbors. But when the request came today it made me smile and I figured what the heck.

Then I got to thinking. I’m also Facebook friends with my very best kisser … and my very worst.

Hmmm … how many others? Thinking about it in the car on the way home, I came up with six total. And I was sort of right … one of them hasn’t actually made the Facebook leap, but I am friends with his wife (and if you’re curious, we kissed long before they even met).

Care to share your Facebook kissing stats?

P.S. My best kisser and my worse kisser are both married, which proves kissing is in the lips of the beholder.