I'm not sure who actually reads my blog. I know my kids don't. They haven't even read my book, just skimmed it looking for the parts where I mentioned them. I have something to confess because this was just so bad, and tonight I realized how bad it was. If anybody I know reads this, go ahead and let me know. It will be a good reminder of what not to do.
A couple days before Christmas a friend of mine stopped by to drop off a little plate of fudge. The kids left Christmas Eve to spend the night with their dad for an early Christmas morning flight to Florida for a week. That fudge was just too tempting. She had cut it into very small squares and I figured it would be ok to enjoy a little each night, but I admit I knew that I shouldn't be enjoying such a sweet treat. After a few days I realized there were only three pieces left, and what if the kids wanted some when they got back? Maybe they wouldn't have remembered, or maybe they wouldn't have cared. But I decided to replace it. I'd just make up my own batch, cut them into little squares and fill the little plate again.
I scoured the Internet for fudge recipes. Do you know how many different recipes for fudge there are? I had no idea what ingredients my friend put into hers. I'm not a baker so baking ingredients, amounts, and what can be substituted for what go way over my head. I picked out an easy-looking one, and actually I think it was called Easy Fudge. Milk chocolate chips, butter, condensed milk, and walnuts. I was impressed it even set up. But it didn't taste like fudge at all. Tasted like a chocolate bar. And the consistency was a little weird. If they sat out on the counter too long they began to melt. So I perused the Internet once again. I found one that seemed a bit more reasonable. Powdered sugar, cocoa, milk, vanilla, and nuts. It's been in my fridge for two days and it's still runny. Tastes ok, but you have to eat it with a spoon.
Ok, so I had to call my friend. I complimented her on the fudge and asked if I could have the recipe. "Oh sure, I bet your kids loved it huh. It's not for you though. Way too much sugar in it. I hope you didn't eat any."
"Yep," I lied.
She told me she wasn't sure what went into it without looking at the recipe. It was her mom's, she said. "Mom has this exact way she does it and you have to really follow the directions." She gave me explicit instructions such as how to heat it slowly, stir constantly, etc. "You don't want to scorch it and you don't want it to come out grainy." The next day she emailed me the recipe. I'm not sure what grainy means when you have 6 cups of sugar in there already.
My God, she wasn't kidding, it was sweet. I shouldn't have been eating this stuff! I couldn't believe how much sugar this recipe called for. I followed the instructions to a T. It actually took an hour and a half! I had no idea it took sugar, butter, and mlik so long to boil. And I thought I was never going to get all that marshmellow cream stuff out of the jar. They really need to invent an easier way to do that.
Well, it turned out great but I don't think I'm ever going to make fudge again. That was way too much work. I honestly have more fun mowing the lawn. No wonder I hate baking. It's so much work! All that stirring and scraping, and then everything is sticky, ugh! I found marshmellow cream on my cupboard door, the stove handle, and places I didn't even go near. It's fun making a pot of chili, and way less messy. Fudge is just unfun.
So the fudge is cooling in the fridge, and the kids don't get home until tomorrow afternoon. I should be able to get it cut into those tiny little squares and refill the little decorative Christmas plate my friend brought over. I'll just tell the kids I wanted to make more, which wouldn't be a lie. But this is definitely the last time I make fudge, and the last time I eat it! After seeing what all goes into it, I can't with a good conscience allow myself to indulge in that stuff ever again.
By the way, her mom's secret recipe? It's right on the back of the marshmallow cream jar. Same as the back of the evaporated milk can too. Only difference was she had doubled it. Thanks to my thinking I could get away with eating some fudge and then simply replacing it, I now have three pounds of it to get rid of. If my kids don't want it, I'll have to just bring it to work or something, but I'm not touching that stuff again.
Oh, and my mom did that to me once too. All my growing up years I raved about her potato salad, how it was the best I'd ever tasted. She always smiled and said thank you, appreciating all the compliments. When I got married I told my husband how good my mom's potato salad was and that he just HAD to try it. Finally one day after I don't know how many years of being married, I begged Mom for her home made potato salad recipe. I told her she might as well teach me how to make it while she was still alive. No need to take the secret to her grave! She was surprised that I thought she'd been holding out on me til the day she died or something. She said, "Well it's just on the back of the Kraft Mayonnaise jar."
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Sunday, December 25, 2011
CHRISTMAS, A PSYCHIC FEELING, AND FLOWERS IN HEAVEN
I took a couple extra days off work this week to spend with my kids since they're out of school for winter break. I decided to let the kids have their Christmas presents on the 20th so they could enjoy them during the days leading up to the actual holiday because their dad would be flying with them Christmas morning to Florida for a week.
We had a good week of snacking, TV watching, game playing, and general lazing about...We're now on Season 4 of our Bones DVD marathon. Had prime rib. Started Settlers of Catan, Traders and Barbarians, and realized halfway through the game we weren't playing it right so we left it out on the kitchen table for another chance to get our heads on straight about it. It's still there. Had chicken and dumplings. Realized it would take longer than one evening to learn how to juggle; Abby gave up entirely. Had spinach and artichoke parmesan dip. Saw Indiana Jones and The Raiders of the Lost Ark for the first time and discovered I do better with movies that have more dialogue than action but will give the other three a try anyway. Ate hummus. Loved the huge rose quartz crystal rock lamp my kids bought me. Had DiGiorno's. Painfully found out that the 27 dollar "Shock Ball" game my daughter wanted so badly isn't going to be played with because my children, after seeing my already nerve-damaged hands take the first zap and hearing the bad words that unintentionally came out of my mouth, are now too afraid to touch the darn thing. Watched Limitless, loved it. Had home-made enchiladas. Video-taped the three of us trying to get a Slinky to work; ironically none of us could. Finally figured out how to play Simon Flash. Had more Grapples; after trying these, I will never go back to regular apples again. Stuck a ruler in the still-falling snow, 10 inches already. Munched on peanut M&Ms. Realized we don't know the first thing about playing poker, but David thinks the professional-style poker chips are really cool anyway. Made a McDonald's run and came home with an extra unpaid-for Big Mac; finally an error in our favor! And we got my son's game room cleaned up and organized. No, this wasn't all in one day. Four days. I just appreciate the little things that make me happy. I really do.
I had to return to work Christmas Eve. Hadn't been there all week, so I missed out on the catered Mexican buffet, the box of See's Famous Old Time Candies, and the box of Nancy Adams Assorted Chocolate Pretzels. Don't get the free chair-massage either. Oh well. I had fun with my kids.
Something was sticking out of my desk drawer. It was a note, folded and stapled. I assumed it was a thank-you note from my co-worker for the comfy slippers Christmas gift I left for her before I left work Monday afternoon. I figured she hadn't gotten me anything and wrote a nice note instead, which was fine since she usually gives me any of her extra diabetic supplies she doesn't use. Like test strips...a real commodity to me. But when I glanced at the note wedged into the crease of the drawer, I suddenly got the feeling of "cash". It wasn't something I heard or saw in my mind. It was just a feeling. The feeling of cash. I thought to myself, now why would she have put cash in that note? That would be unusual and completely unnecessary. I wouldn’t even want my co-worker giving me cash for Christmas. That’s just weird. I want money just like everybody else, but I don’t want someone just giving it to me.
I recalled that on my walk into the building that morning I was reminded of a psychic experience this summer where my guidance directed me to quickly look up at a woman’s baby and at that very moment I saw the woman drop something from her purse. By the time I reached the spot where it fell, the woman was far away, enough so that if I had wanted to keep it I could have, except that it wasn’t the right thing to do. It was a hundred dollar bill, and I wouldn’t have kept it. I knew my Guidance directed me to it for the woman’s sake, not mine. But on the way into work as I remembered that experience, I wondered why I never have psychic guidance toward money. That would be exciting, but I’d only want it if it were truly meant for me. I wouldn’t want someone to lose it in order for me to gain it. I know, too, that my psychic Guidance isn't a frivolous thing.
Well, “cash” must have been on my mind for a reason, and maybe only because I’d been sort of worrying about it lately and been a little broke this Christmas. There’s no way there’s cash in there. That’s just too weird, and I’d feel weird accepting it even if there was. I turned on my computer, logged in, opened up all my applications, and made the coffee. Finally I pulled the note from its hiding spot. I couldn't get it opened without it tearing a little where the staples were. In it was a 20-dollar bill. Her note began “Merry Christmas” and said that instead of buying flowers for her sister in Heaven, she would rather the money go to me.
What a generous gift, and it didn’t feel weird to accept it because I was so touched by her sentiment. Cash for that reason was different, and humbled me a bit. In return, I sat and closed my eyes, imagining a beautiful bouquet being delivered to her sister, wherever she was, imagining her receiving them as a thank-you from me for my being the recipient of a beautiful gesture in her honor.
And then I thanked my Guidance for reminding me to trust. I didn’t need a hundred dollar bill. Twenty was enough of a little nudge to remind me that by trusting my feelings, I’ll always be in the right place at the right time for the really important things in life.
We had a good week of snacking, TV watching, game playing, and general lazing about...We're now on Season 4 of our Bones DVD marathon. Had prime rib. Started Settlers of Catan, Traders and Barbarians, and realized halfway through the game we weren't playing it right so we left it out on the kitchen table for another chance to get our heads on straight about it. It's still there. Had chicken and dumplings. Realized it would take longer than one evening to learn how to juggle; Abby gave up entirely. Had spinach and artichoke parmesan dip. Saw Indiana Jones and The Raiders of the Lost Ark for the first time and discovered I do better with movies that have more dialogue than action but will give the other three a try anyway. Ate hummus. Loved the huge rose quartz crystal rock lamp my kids bought me. Had DiGiorno's. Painfully found out that the 27 dollar "Shock Ball" game my daughter wanted so badly isn't going to be played with because my children, after seeing my already nerve-damaged hands take the first zap and hearing the bad words that unintentionally came out of my mouth, are now too afraid to touch the darn thing. Watched Limitless, loved it. Had home-made enchiladas. Video-taped the three of us trying to get a Slinky to work; ironically none of us could. Finally figured out how to play Simon Flash. Had more Grapples; after trying these, I will never go back to regular apples again. Stuck a ruler in the still-falling snow, 10 inches already. Munched on peanut M&Ms. Realized we don't know the first thing about playing poker, but David thinks the professional-style poker chips are really cool anyway. Made a McDonald's run and came home with an extra unpaid-for Big Mac; finally an error in our favor! And we got my son's game room cleaned up and organized. No, this wasn't all in one day. Four days. I just appreciate the little things that make me happy. I really do.
I had to return to work Christmas Eve. Hadn't been there all week, so I missed out on the catered Mexican buffet, the box of See's Famous Old Time Candies, and the box of Nancy Adams Assorted Chocolate Pretzels. Don't get the free chair-massage either. Oh well. I had fun with my kids.
Something was sticking out of my desk drawer. It was a note, folded and stapled. I assumed it was a thank-you note from my co-worker for the comfy slippers Christmas gift I left for her before I left work Monday afternoon. I figured she hadn't gotten me anything and wrote a nice note instead, which was fine since she usually gives me any of her extra diabetic supplies she doesn't use. Like test strips...a real commodity to me. But when I glanced at the note wedged into the crease of the drawer, I suddenly got the feeling of "cash". It wasn't something I heard or saw in my mind. It was just a feeling. The feeling of cash. I thought to myself, now why would she have put cash in that note? That would be unusual and completely unnecessary. I wouldn’t even want my co-worker giving me cash for Christmas. That’s just weird. I want money just like everybody else, but I don’t want someone just giving it to me.
I recalled that on my walk into the building that morning I was reminded of a psychic experience this summer where my guidance directed me to quickly look up at a woman’s baby and at that very moment I saw the woman drop something from her purse. By the time I reached the spot where it fell, the woman was far away, enough so that if I had wanted to keep it I could have, except that it wasn’t the right thing to do. It was a hundred dollar bill, and I wouldn’t have kept it. I knew my Guidance directed me to it for the woman’s sake, not mine. But on the way into work as I remembered that experience, I wondered why I never have psychic guidance toward money. That would be exciting, but I’d only want it if it were truly meant for me. I wouldn’t want someone to lose it in order for me to gain it. I know, too, that my psychic Guidance isn't a frivolous thing.
Well, “cash” must have been on my mind for a reason, and maybe only because I’d been sort of worrying about it lately and been a little broke this Christmas. There’s no way there’s cash in there. That’s just too weird, and I’d feel weird accepting it even if there was. I turned on my computer, logged in, opened up all my applications, and made the coffee. Finally I pulled the note from its hiding spot. I couldn't get it opened without it tearing a little where the staples were. In it was a 20-dollar bill. Her note began “Merry Christmas” and said that instead of buying flowers for her sister in Heaven, she would rather the money go to me.
What a generous gift, and it didn’t feel weird to accept it because I was so touched by her sentiment. Cash for that reason was different, and humbled me a bit. In return, I sat and closed my eyes, imagining a beautiful bouquet being delivered to her sister, wherever she was, imagining her receiving them as a thank-you from me for my being the recipient of a beautiful gesture in her honor.
And then I thanked my Guidance for reminding me to trust. I didn’t need a hundred dollar bill. Twenty was enough of a little nudge to remind me that by trusting my feelings, I’ll always be in the right place at the right time for the really important things in life.
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