Dieting Becomes Her (And By Her I Mean Grandma)
Dieting comes as natural to most grandmothers as lying comes to a politician.
I find a small bit of comfort in attempting to discern which of the old wives tales contain a small scintilla of truth, not only for the obvious reasons, but to pass them on to future generations.
Many believe that if you eat standing up, the calories automatically drop to your feet and at worst your size sevens will become a half size larger. Okay, I concur there is a bit of sense in this, gravity and all that. But, try as I may, I can’t get it to work for me. Sure my feet get fatter, but so does everything else. There is definitely something wrong at the very core of this theory.
Eating while standing serves no purpose other than to get less exercise by foregoing pulling out a chair that must work off a few calories. It is also more labor intensive to walk an entire cake to the table than to rationalize standing and eating said cake over the sink. Eating upright leads to the evening off process, leading to the shoveling of more bites into the mouth process, which ultimately leads to the you’re a fat pig result.
I shall explain.
You grab a cake or pie out of the fridge. You must be somewhere in twenty minutes, so you say to yourself, “I have no time to eat. I’m in a hurry! I’ll just grab a piece of this and run. I’m so busy I’ll work these calories off in no time.” (Let me know if any of this sounds familiar).
There is something very strange about eating cake or pie with a fork sans knife. It is difficult to cut perfect pieces. The grooves of the tines seem to stay in the food like fingerprints on a victim’s neck. Screaming SHE ATE CAKE! SHE ATE CAKE! OINK!!!!
My overactive imagination? I think not. Otherwise, why would everyone go to such great lengths evening off the piece they ate. Making certain to cover the fork marks and make the edge smooth to the eye. This eliminates any evidence and usually very little cake or pie for the next person. By the time you cover your tracks, one of two things has happened. Either you’ve eaten an extra five hundred or a thousand calories during the evening off process or there’s so little cake left you’re forced to finish the evidence and tell everyone you had to throw it away because it got moldy or the cat walked across it.
Oh sure the story would stand up in court because who could prove otherwise? Except on the scale and when you are bulging out of your pantyhose. So, if you think I’m telling you not to eat standing up, no way. I know you will, but I guess it’s okay if you’re eating while running around the block three times or jogging cross country or, oh for goodness sake if you’re a jogger, we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place!
Of course there are also those who claim eating food from someone else’s plate is best since the calories stay with the initial owner of the food and do not transfer to the interloper. I have yet to prove this theory, but will continue to probe further until satisfied if it be truth or legend.
To add a positive spin to my diatribe, I must admit as we age our appetites do decrease. Ergo the sharing of the sandwich when out to lunch in lieu of a whole one, smaller portions and filling up more quickly. I suppose one must find comfort in this revelation although the fact our metabolism seems to move in a turtle-like fashion must offset this happy occurrence.
I am not one to judge since my metabolism and I have been at odds for years and it is the Rip Van Winkle of the metabolism world.
Or as my friend Yolanda so often points out, she now has the metabolism of a corpse.
So I shall continue to downward dog and Tai Chi my way into some semblance of fitness hoping against hope that my Grammy pants remain loose and I can keep up with my grandsons. This of course is the best form of exercise and I embrace it fully.
Chicken Paprikash Soup
4 large Chicken thighs
2 cans chicken broth
2 heaping tablespoons Hungarian paprika (more may be added if your tastes run to spicy)
Salt and pepper
Flour for dusting
¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper or ½ teaspoon hot sauce
½ cup each of sour cream and half and half
½ cup crumbled crispy bacon for topping (optional)
Season and dust chicken thighs
Sauté chicken in butter and oil mixture (Easy on the fat is okay)
Add chopped onion and sauté until translucent and soft
When chicken is browned drain excess fat and add chicken broth to deglaze the pan
Add paprika and cook until incorporated
Add salt, pepper and cayenne or hot sauce to taste
Temper sour cream until room temperature and begin to slowly add to broth and chicken. When creamy, add half and half.
Finish warming and serve with a dollop of sour cream or crème fraiche or crumbled bacon pieces. Chicken may be served on the side or shredded into the soup and spaetzle may also be added to soup before serving.
I don’t understand how anyone can cook without a soundtrack. After all, the process of creating a recipe can be a sacred moment of art and discovery. Does this not warrant background music as powerful as when Charlton Heston raised his hands and parted the Jell-O?
There is no doubt in my mind that I am far more creative in the kitchen when inspired by a great soundtrack.
How can someone bake holiday cookies without the strains of Nat King Cole’s Christmas Song filling the air, or Chanukah latkes without Adam Sandler’s Chanukah Song or Dreydel Dreydel Dreydel wafting above? Is it possible to bring forth into the world an elegant masterpiece like that soulful soufflé without the strains of Bach or Beethoven?
And who would even attempt a perfect pot roast without the sound of Motown in the background. Not me; that’s the sure!
It isn’t just about setting the mood it’s also about generating a cooking energy. Bopping to the beat lifts and inspires one to greater heights and gets those endorphins geared up.
In the end we all need inspiration and where we acquire it is personal I guess.
Yet, music and food just seem to fit so well. When there is music playing it fills the air with the sounds of another’s genius. This makes me want to be a part of that creative process.
Oh, I know you’re thinking, “Seriously Norma, Bach and a soufflé, can you honestly equate them?” Or even use them in the same sentence actually?
To that I would answer a resounding yes.
Cooking is a form of art after all. How gratified to know your art inspires.
Why I’ll bet Bach’s mother cooked his favorite guinea hen to the melodic strains of the Brandenburg Concertos filling her home. Perhaps it even sped up the process a bit for both of them.
The great thing about cooking is that it is one art form you can eat afterward.
Da Vinci may be a feast for the eyes, but Wolfgang Puck’s lox and cream cheese pizza, need I say more?
Watching a Mel Brooks film delivers great laughter, a crucial component of our existence, but damn a perfect lasagna now that’s art, too. Perhaps a chorus of Springtime for Hitler as we batter our schnitzel?
Or the wonderful and happy sounds of Sammy Davis Jr. singing The Candy Man while dipping strawberries in chocolate?
I’m just saying that when we create we are usually alone with our Muse, so why not add a divine element to the process by enhancing it with music?
Can you actually make homemade pizza without listening to Dean Martin and the strains of That’s Amour?
The great Edvard Hagerup Grieg, Norwegian composer once said, “I am sure my music has a taste of codfish in it.” Possibly because his wife or mother cooked codfish as he composed. I’d bet on it.
Obviously I am not the first to see the relationship here.
For me cooking is a major part of the holiday season and enhancing that festive spirit or any day spirit only makes things even better.
So next time you’re even making a peanut butter and banana sandwich prepare it to the sounds of Elvis wailing Jailhouse Rock and see how much better it tastes.
Breakfast Biscuit Sandwiches
1 cup of shredded cheddar cheese
4 pieces of crispy cooked bacon
Salt and pepper
1 tablespoon chopped chives or scallions (optional)
Make the recipe for drop biscuits on the Bisquick box. I usually double it.
After mixing together add bacon, cheese and scallion or chives.
Form them approximately the size of a baseball
When done, fry or scramble an egg
Cut sandwich open and add egg in middle.
I have also added a tomato or cucumber.
It works great for a simple breakfast, or to go. Also a delicious option for brunch.
I wished a friend happy birthday on Facebook today. I haven’t seen him in eight years. We spoke a few months ago about getting together and I imagine we will sometime in the near future, and I truly look forward to seeing him again.
So begs the question, if you haven’t seen him eight years, why do you love or care about him?
At the risk of sounding like a dunce I will answer, I haven’t a clue why I do, but I know that I will always love and care about him because some people enter our hearts and never leave. They may leave us physically, but they simply become a part of our emotional DNA.
Of course those who know me will conclude I have a few theories about this phenom and I do.
First and foremost I believe it’s those people with whom we form an instant connection that seem to attach themselves the strongest. No one can deny they have met friends and instantly felt a strong gravitational pull toward that person. It’s as if a button has been pushed inside of us and a switch turns on and never turns off again. We may be friends and maintain a friendship that plays out on a daily, weekly or monthly basis, or one that takes us far away from one another and yet remains strong and connected. I must admit I don’t know why these attachments form, but they grow like moss on the side of a tree and the sunshine and rain keeps them viable.
This friend I mentioned is very special to me. He came into my life at a time when I was in the midst of pursuing a favorite dream. I was open and engaged in the world in which he lived and becoming a part of that world as well. But it wasn’t simply the commonality of our paths at that moment in time, it was the joy he brought along.
My son formed a great attachment to him and he responded eagerly as well. He made us both laugh, at times his conversations with my eight-year-old made me cringe, but my son absorbed his off-color humor and language as a lesson in what not to say, so I am grateful.
Whenever we were around him we laughed, we felt joyous and that feeling never changed or ended. The funny thing about my friend is he considers himself incredibly negative and outspoken and his humor reflects those qualities in spades. He is as politically incorrect as one can be, and yet he has no idea the joy he brings into other people’s lives, especially those who see through his gruff exterior, and know the caring and loving individual that lies beneath and beats with a heart of gold.
As most will attest to some people have a way of crawling inside our hearts and never leaving. But why? Many times they do leave, at least physically yet the feelings you harbor for them remain intact. It’s a fact there are those we may not have seen for years and when they call or we see them it’s as though no time at all has passed.
I believe it’s because they become a part of your happy place. Yes there is such a place in us all so don’t make fun of my phrasing.
We all treasure certain moments in our lives when we felt highly charged, happy, fulfilled and at peace with the universe. It may be a special time in our work, family or love life, and those who enter that happy place with us just seem to stay there. Even when the moment has passed, our feelings for that person have not. Seeing them again evokes feelings long buried inside or at times forgotten.
There are also those who have fallen down in life. I have such a friend as well. When he was on top he helped so many people, including my daughter and I. When he fell on hard times as the cliché goes, “ nobody knows you when you’re down and out…”
I try to keep in touch and in my thoughts. It breaks my heart to see how those who owe him so much have forgotten him. When someone has been good to us they deserve a place in our hearts and our minds.
Despite distance we care about these people and want the best for them.
We are happy when we hear they are rising and we cry with them when they suffer sorrow. Our souls are intertwined.
Surprisingly, at times one person may feel much more strongly toward the other, but that is because the reason for your feelings are just simply embedded in more emotional bedrock.
Of course there is also a chance, if you believe in it, that the feelings may stem from a past life. Yes many discount the notion of past lives, but for those who believe, the explanation is viable.
No one I know haven’t experienced that unusual feeling of walking into a room, seeing a total stranger and yet despite never knowing them, you pick up a very strong vibe. Either you want to get closer to them or something is telling you to get the hell away.
Why is that and how can you possibly want to run from someone you have never met and know nothing about? You have never heard them utter a word and yet you feel that if you did you would hate whatever they say immediately.
Kind of weird, huh?
And yet it happens all the time. Why these vibrations are picked up from other human beings I have no idea.
I just know that there are people in my life that I feel close to whether or not I am. When we are together it feels safe and warm and right, and because it does, you want to keep returning to that person and never let go of the feelings they bring with them.
It seems to be the kind of shared experience we can now more easily embrace thanks to social media like Facebook or Instagram where we can keep track of friends so much more easily.
Yes, I know there are parts of this new craze that are problematic like loss of privacy and too many other things to mention, but it does allow us to remain in closer contact with those with whom we have formed bonds and friendships we choose to keep close to our hearts. Perhaps there is one of those special people you want to call today. There’s no time like the present to give yourself a present.
Pumpkin Blueberry Mousse
With Pumpkin Candy Crunch Topping
1 cup pumpkin
1 cup fresh blueberries
7 ounces of cream cheese
1 ½ cups whipped cream
1 cup powdered sugar
1/8/ tsp cloves
1/8 tsp ginger
1/8 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp cinnamon
Mix sugar and cream cheese until whipped nicely.
Add pumpkin and seasonings
Mix well. Set aside and whip cream until peaked.
Fold all but 1½ into pumpkin mixture. Set aside rest of whipped cream for topping.
Fold in blueberries and pour into parfait glasses or martini glasses. Top with whipped cream. If you don’t want berries you can leave them out.
Place in fridge to set.
Pumpkin Seed Candy Crunch
Place two tablespoons butter and 2 tablespoons packed brown sugar in non-stick frying pan.
When melted and combined add ½ cup of pumpkin seeds (Not roasted or salted)
Sauté on low heat (watch carefully so they don’t burn) for about five minutes until seeds are nicely coated.
Remove from burner and place in fridge to harden.
When set and butter is hardened remove crunch from pan and chop up into pieces. Not too small but small enough to fit on top of mousse.
Bring mousses back out and top crunchies.
I was finally given permission today to speak the words “I’m going to be a Grandma” publicly. I wrote emails to some of my friends and a few I spoke to on the phone.
So how did it feel to actually be able to tell the world I am going to be a grandma? Pretty damn terrific, and yet still a bit surreal. After all, it hasn’t really sunk in fully because there are still seven months to go until zero hour.
It’s great to be able to say things like, “when the baby comes,” and “my first grandchild” and “how far in advance does Yale accept early applications?”
I have begun a list of restaurants where my grandchild and I can dine for lunch. I shall parade him/her down the main thoroughfares endlessly until everyone I know and don’t know has cast eyes upon the miracle child. Do you think I’m going overboard here? Nah!
It seems we have a new wrinkle in time as the little mother takes action on a special project of her own. Nausea aside, her survival mode has kicked in full force and the first order of business seems to be getting Grandma out of her hair. To this end she has been eagerly perusing JDate and interviewing potential candidates.
Excuse me while I sing a chorus of “If Mama Were Married,” from “Gypsy.”
Of course after a short time on this mission from hell she realized it takes more than one person acting alone to find someone to contact. The final count 400 readings, two acceptable men to contact.
“Yes, Mother I understand now why you swore never to do this again.”
Ah, I thought, it’s good to be right occasionally.
So it seems she narrowed it down to two candidates. One hasn’t been online for over a month and the other made quite an impression. My daughter and her newly appointed “committee to re elect her mother as a wife,” were duly impressed with their choices and brought them forward for a vote.
I was instructed to send an email thus informing him the path had been cleared toward mutual contact and await an answer. The plans changed and she decided to take the initiative and write him. She told him she was acting for her mother and had selected him as a suitable and interesting candidate.
His response to my daughter was, “tell your mother to send me a picture of herself naked.”
And now a new can of worms has been opened. Not wanting to appear pessimistic about men, I hesitate to reveal my true feelings on the subject of online dating.
I didn’t tell her about the man who claimed to be 61 and was actually 93. Did he think I wouldn’t notice the over thirty-year difference when we met? Exactly where on my profile did it say I was blind? I also omitted the two dates with felons I’d had and the one who had set up a fake charity website to extort money from women. Maybe he should’ve added a phone number and address to that website to make it more believable.
So many of the young and romantic fail to realize that many women of my age are single by choice.
Desiring to be neither a nurse or a purse, I opt to live my life filled with family, friends, fun, work, Maj Jong, travel and above all, freedom. At my tender age I have happily discovered that none of these requires a male companion to achieve. Occasional dating is an acceptable alternative to a lifetime commitment.
After spending countless hours on the Internet dating circuit, I became acutely aware I was sorely wasting valuable time I could never retrieve searching for “the one.”
As great journalist Adela Rogers St. Johns, thrice married, once said and it may be true, “There is so little difference between husbands you may as well keep the first.”
Yet, I remain a cockeyed optimist and I am certain that should that special someone exist in this realm, there is no doubt we shall meet as I attend of the school of predetermination.
After another candidate went south, I was yet again faced with the dilemma of dashing my daughter’s pregnant hopes of finding a husband for mother. Dare I tell her? After all she is pregnant and stress is the enemy now.
So once again she has contacted me about another gem from JDate. This exercise in futility is distracting me from focusing my energy on being “the grandma” I have already envisioned myself rocking and singing and these are hardly romantic thoughts for a potential dater. Still, I am somehow happy with this picture. It fits and is inherently soothing to mind and soul. Perhaps it’s true after all that love and short skirts are for the young.
I only know that like so many other women of my generation, I am extremely content and have a full life. I choose to liken it to a chocolate cake without icing. A great chocolate cake has all the ingredients to make it yummy. If you add terrific icing it can only make it better. However if you add bad icing, you can ruin a perfectly good cake. I’m perfectly content with my bare cake. Besides in seven months, it will be filled with a new ingredient that will taste better than the finest Belgian chocolate panache. It is also at the forefront of my mind that anyone I bring into my life will be a part of “the grandchild’s” as well. How could I ever determine if he is grandpa worthy?
Oh darn, she just sent me another prospect from JDate. “If Mama Were Married, we’d live in a house, as quiet as quiet can be…”
Super Easy and delicious Brownie dessert fancy enough for company
1 box of brownie mix using chewy recipe on box or your own recipe
1 package instant vanilla pudding
1 cup of frozen whipped topping or homemade whipped cream
Bake brownies using chewy recipe in a jelly roll pan so they bake up thinner
Prepare vanilla pudding according to box directions and then add 1 cup of whipped topping to the finished pudding. Set aside
When cooled cut brownies into rectangles of like size and scoop out a small amount from each inside with a small melon baller to make an indentation for the pudding mixture.
Place pudding on the top of a brownie and cover with another brownie rectangle forming a sandwich.
Liberally drizzle Ganache over top of brownie to cover and add fresh strawberries or decorate as desired. You can also add thinly sliced strawberries on top of pudding before closing the sandwich and covering with the Ganache.
8 ounces of semi sweet chocolate
1 cup of heavy cream
1 tablespoon of unsalted butter let it sit before cooking until it reaches room temperature.
Place chocolate in a heatproof bowl and set aside
Simmer milk in a saucepan on medium heat and pour hot milk over chocolate.
Let sit until chocolate begins to melt and then stir. Add butter and continue stirring until all are smooth and incorporated.
These should be handled gently as not to break brownies. They taste and look great when they’re done.
Last year women spent billions of dollars to look younger. Botox, plastic surgery, procedures, creams, miracle lotions and any crazy new fangled product that had the potential to knock off a few years.
I personally only spent hundreds because I am a big believer in Oil of Olay and sleep.
After all the trouble one goes to in order to shave off a few years there is one sure-fire way to add the years back in one fell swoop. A cane.
While doing physical therapy it was strongly suggested I use a cane to improve my balance and posture.
I aged ten years immediately, but I also discovered a great new toy for my grandsons.
They fight over it and the little one wins. He dances around the house like Fred Astaire in his top hat and tails swinging the cane around with Fred’s grace and verve. It’s hilarious.
When we go out he will carry his umbrella to emulate Grammy’s cane and my daughter and I just stand and laugh at his shenanigans.
Both my grandsons imitate me walking and saying ouch and I shudder to think that will be their lasting memory of Grammy.
Now of course although I can’t wait to rid myself of the instant-aging device, I feel almost guilty that he will lose a favorite toy.
I imagine it’s no different than playing with the box a toy came in or using a paper towel roll to lead an imaginary band, kids can have fun with the oddest things.
So is having a cane to entertain your grandchildren a perk of old age?
No way. The cane although it serves a useful purpose is a nuisance. I find myself forgetting, losing and sometimes even stumbling over it clumsily.
I’m thinking a cane may not be such a good idea.
And yet. Okay I admit, at a certain age it’s good for balance and Stop. No! Every time I use it I feel like an old woman. I know I look older, but I also feel older too.
Now of course some people have no choice, they must use it or else risk falling and we don’t even want to go there.
But it’s difficult enough to convince yourself you’re still young without catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and thinking, who the hell is that old lady? Oops, it’s me!
Is there some way to lessen the blow?
Perhaps a diamond encrusted cane? Or a clear one you can’t see? Or something cool like one of those rain sticks from Africa that will sound like rainfall every time it hits the ground.
Maybe designer canes from Michael Kors or Chanel made of pearls with CCs hanging off the top. Alexander McQueen could create a cane with skeletons on it to really depress one and remind old people of what lies ahead. It could become quite chic and the in thing. Young skinny models would begin sporting them just to look cool.
Forget purses, the new status symbol would be canes. Of course they would have to be uber expensive to be an effective status symbol.
Human beings are nothing if not adaptable. We accept that gravity is a gigantic weight around our necks, literally, or that our skin now hangs like the smog over Los Angeles. Or even that we can’t eat even half the calories we once ingested without gaining weight.
But despite all the craziness that inflicts our bodies as we age, it is a small price to pay for what we gain. Wisdom. I once saw a talk show where the host asked the audience if they had the opportunity to live their live over if they would.
Most people failed to raise their hands and I was shocked. I thought, why wouldn’t anyone want a second chance to undo their mistakes? Of course I was young then. Now I understand.
For all the wisdom we eventually gain it comes with a price. The lessons aren’t free or easy and take a toll.
Now I get it…one lifetime is more than enough.
Now if someone said you could turn in your body for a new one every twenty years, now that’s an offer I definitely wouldn’t refuse.
Coconut Almond Chicken Chunks
1 package of chicken tenders (You can also use drummettes)
1 cup of sweetened coconut
1 cup sliced almonds chopped well
1 cup of Panko crumbs
1 cup of flour
2 eggs beaten
Canola oil deep enough to deep fry but not totally cover chicken
Salt and pepper
Cut chicken into pieces as desired may be strips or chunks
Salt and pepper chicken
Combine all dry ingredients
Dip chicken into flour, then egg and finally into coconut, Panko and almonds combined.
Drop gently away from you into the 350-degree oil.
Fry until chicken is cooked on both sides, approximately 7 minutes.
Drain and serve with pineapple sauce.
1 cup crushed pineapple
1 tablespoon apricot preserves
½ teaspoon of Dijon mustard
Mix together until well combined
There’s a fine line between delusional and it’s my party.
Okay so here’s the 411, which by the way for those of you who are anything before the year 2000 challenged, means the information. Basically, where does the line between delusion and seeing the world your way become a psychotic thing?
I’m not sure, but I imagine I’ve come really close to that line sometimes judging by other’s reactions to my reactions to situations. If I had a dollar for every time someone has noted with incredulity, “why are you even surprised?” I’d have enough for a butt lift.
I guess you could say I’m actually a closet Pollyanna, wanting to believe that people’s intentions are good, and when someone says they like and care about me, they actually do.
Wow, go figure!
So is reality a choice, a delusion or something based on wish fulfillment?
I have always wanted to believe the best about people. Why is that?
Because it is so much easier to believe people are kind than accept the fact they may just be assholes.
Although sometime long ago I decided the best way to proceed in life was to expect nothing and let people show themselves through their actions, but I kind of never practiced what I preached.
Which is why I now, at this age, look back and must reproach myself for being so damn dumb.
It’s not just that I wanted to believe people didn’t want to hurt me, it’s that even after they had numerous times, I still refused to accept they were anything less than I’d believed.
Right up until the time I lie on the floor bleeding and was forced to admit, gee they weren’t what I thought they were. Stupid!
It’s the whole stupid thing I was trying to avoid here because that is so self-deprecating and yet I truly should have caught on so much sooner, but I chose not to.
But why would I? Why would anyone want to admit a so-called friend didn’t really give a damn about them or a brother would stab you in the back or an agent in Hollywood would lie?
I know, I know that agent thing really is as obvious as a heart attack.
Or that a man you loved would lie to you?
Delusional is looking good here.
After all is said and done what is the best way to handle reality. If we really saw everyone for what they were, warts and all, the world could be a darker and uncozier place.
Isn’t it much safer and happier to believe all is good and unicorns roam the earth and leprechauns are at this very moment guarding your pot of gold at the end of that rainbow?
Would we all be better off to live in a world where we never got hurt or disappointed because at the outset of every relationship we expected the worst or nothing at all from those whom we encounter along our path? If nothing else, from disappointments we must expect greater knowledge and perhaps a lesson learned to put into our backpack as we march along life’s highway. At least I know not to hitchhike.
What is the happy medium here and how do you achieve it when often people don’t expose their true natures until well after you’ve begun to trust and care?
I have often pondered the question of who is at fault when relationships die and why must we be so ready to blame ourselves?
It is human nature to want to be close to other humans, to bond, to create a commonality of goals, of words of deeds with people about whom you care.
So if I must continue being delusional so be it.
I suppose I’ll never learn, because in the end knowingly or unknowingly we also disappoint others. I imagine in a way it’s a cycle of sorts.
Since we do not choose to hurt others, unless we are well that kind of crazy person, I have to believe others don’t intend to set out to hurt us either. And yes although some do, I imagine we just have to sort through the trash and find the treasure in those who are willing to stick it out until the end.
Or until there is really nothing left to be hurt about anymore, because at a certain point everything becomes so unimportant and genuinely silly really.
As my kids always say, “it’s all good” and I guess that means the bad as well.
For me true knowledge comes from realizing our reality is subjective and greatly colored by what has come before. Should we choose to become bitter and immediately assume people will hurt us because some have, at the risk of becoming a bitter, angry human being that dwells in mistrust and suspicion? I think not! Or should we try to embrace that being human is to accept we are all flawed and imperfect.
Or as someone I know says, “we shouldn’t strive for perfection, only progress.”
If we are constantly judging the behavior of those around us we may find ourselves expecting too much or even at times not enough. I guess the secret is to expect nothing and go with the flow.
I guess that’s the best answer since I’m too damn old to swim upstream anymore.
So I choose to be happy when those I care about are loving and kind, and resigned and forgiving when they aren’t. After all, others don’t set your expectations, you do, so why are they responsible for what you put upon them.
Relationships can be confusing and difficult or easy and flowing. I guess it’s up to me to choose.
The choice is made. Oh no, wait I want to choose again. OY! It’s the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man!
Oh well, I do love marshmallows.
Corn Stuffed Zucchini Boats
4 zucchinis cut in half. Scoop out insides until they resemble a boat. Leave edge of zucchini a bit in tact so they prevent the corn from leaking out the sides.
Salt and pepper the zucchini and set aside.
2 cups corn can be fresh, frozen or a mix of both
2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons flour
1 cup half and half
¾ cup shredded cheddar cheese
1 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
pepper to taste
Mix eggs and half and half and add other ingredients. Use immersion blender and mix corn mixture until it mixes together, but some corn is still recognizable.
Fill zucchini with corn mixture and sprinkle cheese on top.
Bake approx. 20 to 25 minutes until set.
Sprinkle lightly on top with fresh chopped red pepper