Man's dilemma

It is just a tiny bit R rated but I saw this photo with the caption: Man's Dilemma.

  

Does this photo capture the true spirit of man's dilemma? If so, what is the equally profound woman's dilemma? 

And to think all along I thought man's dilemma was: Oh ____ _____, what shall I do if she never stops talking.

Women over 30 shouldn't do crack

Over the weekend, I popped into Nordstrom for a new belt. In my shopping endeavors, I stumbled across a fabulous pair of Joe's Jeans on such significant sale, they might as well have been tied in a bow and handed to me. AND in my size. I saunter into the dressing room, because one more pair of jeans can never hurt, and try them on. 

Backside slathered in denim, I use the three way mirror to look at the caboose from every conceivable angle. You do this too? Oh, you don't? Me either. 

Just kidding. Of course I do. I LOVED these jeans but noticed the tag indicated low rise. Now, all my parts were fully covered but I know from experience, you need to do the "Sit Test" in low rise jeans for prevention of donning them for lunch one day and give some unsuspecting diner a peep show. 

To do the Sit Test in a dressing room is a little challenging, because you can't merely sit. You must sit and be able to observe your situation.  Finally, twisting myself just short of Cirque du Soleil style, I got the view.  And then I saw it.

And my first thought was "Wow. They should have wrote low, low, low rise."
My second thought was "WOW. That is a lot of crack."
My third thought was "Uh oh, I don't do crack."
My final thought looking at that view: "DAMMIT. I love these jeans!"

Now there was a time when I showed the bare tummy in the navel grazing shirts. And wore the tiny shorts with high heels. If I had the cleavage, I would have bared that too on sultry summer nights. But some of these low rise jeans are showing so much skin. But I am out of that age range and you know it is fashion unbecoming when you can see more crack than Whitney Houston.

And women over 30 should not do crack. At least this woman over 30. But, many a girl has tried to rationalize a purchase like this. You try to tell yourself you will wear a long sweater. You won't. And like me, many a girl has a purchase or two in the closet not ready for wear because of technical difficulties. Leaving the dressing room, I had a fleeting thought that maybe these could be my 'stand up only' jeans. What a terrible idea to have 'stand up only' jeans. And even then, I might wear them out, enjoy a cocktail or two, and whoops, I forget the jeans are limited in their range.  No need for that to be on display hence a photo shows up on FB with the caption "Showing more ass than a night at The Bunny Ranch" (and not dipped in flattery.)

So belt purchase = perfect. Jeans purchase = reshelved. A perfect example that crack is not always addictive.

Just say: I don't know

We have been a bit chilly, for a bit too long in Georgia. This part of the country has two seasons: Summer and Fall. Summer lasts 9 months and Fall lasts for three. So the fact temperatures have bobbed around the 20 - 40 degree mark for months leaves us in a pinch. You already know that states doused frequently in sunshine have drivers who can not drive in even a sprinkle of raindrops. Snow? We are paralyzed and the city is shut down.  Buy your bread and milk, Mabel. Snow = emergency conditions. 

People live in the South for a variety of reasons. One of my top five: weather. If I wanted to be chilly  and damp more often, I could return to Seattle. There I would be looking at the greenery, and water, and deal with about 92% less a-hole drivers.

And when we are weeks away from Spring, we don't like our temperatures to begin with the numbers 2, 3, OR 4. So when the weather prediction at the end of last week was sunny and almost 70 degrees on Sunday, people greeted the news with the same enthusiasm you would expect from someone winning an Oscar. 

We planned a full day involving things outdoors. I took off at 9 am to run. No jacket needed because it was supposed to be 50 by then. Wrong. I should know by now not to trust the weather report. It was 39. Brrrrr. 

And Brrrrr needs a coat, and hat, and gloves. I mean, when you are a little weather pansie who has been enjoying a warm climate for a decade. 39  degrees in March  might feel like suntan weather to our friends in the the Midwest and NE.

We waited all day for the sun. Hope you enjoyed sleeping in, Sunshine. Thanks for foiling my plans.  Oh, you finally made it to 55 by late afternoon. 

Weatherman: Just say, " I don't know" OR "Your guess is as good as mine" OR "Whatever you hope for, expect the opposite" OR "Yes, I have the best occupation with no prerequisite of accuracy or success needed in order to get the dollar bills" OR "Why don't you wake up tomorrow, look out the window, and then you will KNOW what the weather is going to be for the day."

Sun: I miss you. We are getting a bit surly, a bit salty, and a bit desperate down here. 

PS: You don't have children, Sun, so let me share a piece of information. Outdoor play time is awesome. In fact, it is really quite critical to nap time.  The more outdoor play time, the longer and better nap time.  Mamacita really, really loves nap time. Outdoor play time with freezing ears basically, well, sucks. So let's work on the temps.  

PSS: Forget this request in August when you are burning us like tiny bacon slices in a very humid inferno.

Leprechauns like lusciousness.....

St. Pat's is around the corner and it is not all about the green beer. Even if you don't celebrate, here are some luscious treats for you.  Irish Coffee Cupcakes AND Guinness Cupcakes. Why not? But it's too early for chocolate? Shame on your for thinking that way. You want something hearty? Something savory to go with your sweetness? I am also adding a delicious St. Patty's Potato muffin. Perfect to fill your tummy before you celebrate. From my kitchen to yours, enjoy every bite.

Irish Coffee Cupcakes (makes 15)
Ingredients: For the cupcakes:
2 c. flour
1 t. baking powder
¼ t baking soda
¼ t salt
½ c boiling water

2 T instant espresso powder (you can use instant coffee or buy the instant espresso powder at Starbucks)

¼ c whole milk

1 stick unsalted butter at room temp

½ c. sugar

½ c packed light brown sugar

2 large eggs

For the frosting:

1 c. heavy cream

1 T powdered sugar

1 T whiskey

Instant espresso powder for dusting

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 and line your cupcake tins.

Whisk flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt.

Pour water over espresso powder and let cool. Combine espresso with milk. Beat butter, brown sugar, granulated sugar with a mixer on medium until pale and fluffy (about 3 mins.) Add eggs, one at a time beating well after each addition.

Beat in flour mixture 1/3 at a time alternating with espresso mixture beginning AND ending with flour. Batter may look broken.  Fill muffin tins ¾ full. Bake 20-22 mins until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Let cool, turn cupcakes out from tin.

To make frosting: Whisk together cream, powdered sugar until peaks form. Add whiskey and mix until slightly stiff peaks form. Top cupcakes with 2 T of frosting and lightly dust with espresso powder. Feel free to save most for yourself.

Guinness Cupcakes
Ingredients: For the cupcake:

3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa

2 cups sugar

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

Pinch fine salt

1 12 oz bottle Guinness (not for your mouth..for the bowl.)

1 stick butter, melted

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

3 large eggs

3/4 cup sour cream

For the frosting:

1 (8-ounce) package cream cheese, softened at room temperature

3/4 to 1 cup heavy cream

1 (1-pound) box confectioners' sugar

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the cocoa, sugar, flour, baking soda, and salt. In another medium mixing bowl, combine the stout, melted butter, and vanilla. Beat in eggs, 1 at time. Mix in sour cream until thoroughly combined and smooth. Gradually mix the dry ingredients into the wet mixture.

Lightly grease 24 muffin tins. Divide the batter equally between muffin tins, filling each 3/4 full. Bake for about 12 minutes and then rotate the pans. Bake another 12 to 13 minutes until risen, nicely domed, and set in the middle but still soft and tender. Cool before turning out.

To make the icing:
In a medium bowl with a hand mixer, beat the cream cheese on medium speed until light and fluffy. Gradually beat in the heavy cream. On low speed, slowly mix in the confectioners' sugar until incorporated and smooth. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until ready to use. Icing can be made several hours ahead and kept covered and chilled.
Top each cupcake with a heap of frosting and dust with cocoa or chocolate sprinkles. You can also use nonflavored green food coloring to make the icing green. Take a bite and say "mmmmmmmmm." Repeat.


Savory St. Patrick's Day Potato Muffins
Ingredients

2 medium potatoes (peeled and cut into 1/2 inch cubes)

2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

1 pinch salt (be generous)

1 egg (lightly beaten)

4 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 1/4 cups buttermilk

3 tablespoons fresh chives (or spring onions chopped)

3 tablespoons fresh parsley (chopped)
1/2 cup cheddar cheese (grated)

Directions:
Pre-heat the oven to 350. Grease a 12 cup muffin pan or use paper liners. In a small saucepan, cook the potatoes in boiling salted water for 8 minutes or until just tender.
Drain and rinse under cold water and set aside. 

In a medium bowl, combine the flour, salt and baking powder. In a large bowl, beat the egg, oil, buttermilk, chives or spring onion and parsley. Stir the flour mixture into the buttermilk mixture until nearly combined. Gently fold in potatoes. Add the cheese.  I also added mushrooms. Spoon into muffin tins and bake for 20 minutes. 

You can top these with extra grated cheese. Remove pan from oven and cool for 5 minutes. Then remove muffins and cool on rack.

After all that work, you deserve a beverage. Now, go pinch someone on the 17th. Have a fantastic weekend.

Touched for the very first time

I remember my first time. I was a bit of a late bloomer so among my friends, I was one of the last to join that special club. I sat forlorn while I witnessed them having what I perceived to be all the grown up fun. I was anxious to do it too, but I was nervous.

And then one day, it was my turn to be a big girl. My turn to take that next step to womanhood. I had plenty of pep talks from my best friends who considered themselves savvy on technique by then. So the day came…I had my supplies to make it easier. But even the most careful planning can’t prevent the sting.

I am talking knicks and cuts, people. And the first time you shave your legs.

You try to be so delicate but unless you are Johnny Cade or PonyBoy Curtis, you have no experience with a razorblade.  You slather with soap but oh, you have no skills. You leave the bathroom with 20 pieces of toilet paper “bandages” stuck all over your legs. And never mind the mess you created which looks like Hannibal Lecter had a few guests in your bathroom. With the direction of growth or against the direction of growth? It matters not because when you are new, you might as well shave your legs with a microplane and save yourself the surprise of being knicked. And then you have the excuse you were attacked with a dangerous weapon and not have to admit you were shaving your legs and doing a very poor job.

But oh, you just couldn’t wait could you? 

And bless your heart when you forget your little pink Bick disposable razor and decide to use your Dad’s blade because you think “he will never know”and then put it back without telling him so he too can knick his face up like he did the tango with Edward Scissorhands.

And it is not just girls,  boys have no immediate skills either. Hence the reason my brothers looked like they hugged a barb wire fence the first few times they had to shave.  How the razor even reached their skin I don't know with so much shaving cream on their faces, they looked like Santa Clause or Billy from ZZ Top.

And bless your parents hearts when they see your legs covered in gauze. You casually dismiss their smirks because your war wounds are something to be proud of since you are a woman now. You know your parents want to laugh at you but  they don’t. Or they do laugh but at least they wait until you go in your room and get busy either chatting on the phone with your friends to the tune of “oh myyyy gawww, I totally cut myself” or doing your “we must, we must, we must increase our bust” exercises. These activities high in both frequency and importance on a teenage girls “To Do” list.  

And your parents also hope you learn very soon to stop hijacking your Dad’s razorblade so he doesn’t have to show up at his office with TP face and blood on his collar.

But no, for some reason, we as young ladies just couldn’t wait to have those legs touched by that razorblade for the very first time. Had we only considered that we would have the opportunity to do it every day for the rest of our lives, I think we could have waited.

A kid at heart?

I saw a Dad and his little munchkin at the park last weekend. The Dad was about 6'5 but what struck me is watching he and his daughter having a giggle over their juice boxes. Seeing a giant man who could likely palm a basketball holding a tiny juice box as they had a picnic made me smile.

I have seen my own Husband wear silly hats, sing songs he never dreamed of singing (and probably never wanted to sing even when he was 3) like I'm a little teapot, and chase my son around the house like Diego from Ice Age simply because each of those acts makes our son laugh uproariously.  I can appreciate that even a grown man can be a kid at heart.

And then I saw this..and thought, umm, wait a minute.  Kid at heart? Or a man who needs  new backpack? Now, maybe he is simply holding it for his grandchild since it is clearly a giant backpack that is likely to snap a young person's vertebrae.

If not, he definitely needs an update. Bratz Doll backpack? Creepy. Those girls look dirtier than what I imagine the guests in the hot tub at 4 am on Bret Michaels' Rock of Love tour bus might look like.

Or maybe he likes Bratz and considers them highly inappropriate for the age group they target and market and would likely say who cares if you don't like my backpack. But I think even a kid at heart would look better with SpongeBob (and I dont even like SpongeBob.)

If only those animals liked hamburger

My parents loved to send us to our Aunt and Uncle’s house on the Oregon coast during the summer when we were kids. My Aunt and Uncle did not have children. I think they liked children. And I know my parents loved a week without their children. 

During one visit, while my Uncle takes my older brother out driving my Uncle’s sand rails around the sand dunes, my Aunt takes me to the grocery store. I was five. In the store my Aunt relays to me that my Mom has sent a laundry list to her of all the foods I do not like. My thought: Excellent work, Mom! I was a highly finicky eater so I attribute this act as wise counsel on my Mom’s part. 

My Aunt asked me how in the world hamburger made my list? Future vegan? Not quite. But I did not like hamburger. So my Aunt buys hamburger much to my chagrin and tells me I just haven’t eaten her hamburger yet. I haven’t eaten mice yet either but I don’t need to in order to know I won’t like them. 

When it is your child being a coy smarty pants, that child is precocious. When it is someone else’s child being a coy smarty pants, especially when you do not have children, that child is begging for the Joan Crawford treatment. Thankfully, my Aunt was a pacifist. 

My Aunt makes lunch for me. And I sit at the table staring at some meatloaf-ish type dish. I can’t eat it. She subscribes to the theory of try one bite. I put the smallest fragment of meat on one tine of the fork. This does not qualify.  She also subscribes to this theory: you will sit there until you finish it. I assess my situation and get clever. 

They have cats so I began luring the cats over under the table and believe they will eat this entire serving of meatloaf surprise. I do not pay enough attention to my own cats at home to realize there is reason cat food is flavored like tuna and not cow. They also have a tiny dog. Or what I like to call a cat in a doggy costume. Her name is Myrtle and that foolish dog won't eat the hamburger either. Don't dogs eat meaty flavored snacks? What is wrong with these animals? We had two Airedales at home that would eat aluminum cans if you dropped them under the dinner table. 

So, I devise another plan. I am tiny but I can see the window about four feet above the kitchen table. The window is open so as my Aunt busies herself and turns her back, I catapult bites of my lunch out the window. I take my time as to avoid appearing too obvious in my sudden change of heart. 

She comes into the kitchen and I make deliberate acts of patting my mouth with my napkin. ALL done! Oh, SO good. She looks at me for a minute. “Did you get enough to eat?” she asks.
“I did. Thank you.”
“Are you full?” she asks with a smile.
“Pretty full. Not too full for a trip to Dairy Queen down the street for a chocolate dipped ice cream cone but pretty full of hamburger.”
“Ok. I have just one question.”
“Yes, ma’am?” I respond as my innocence sparkles through my eyes.
“Do you know why there is a pile of hamburger in the kitchen windowsill?”

What!?!?! My heartbeat races as my eyes expand. Early indication I have no poker face.

What I had failed to notice because of my tiny size was that in fact, the kitchen window was NOT open. Because our windows at home were all sliding windows, I didn’t know that awning windows can jut from the house and have a four or five inch windowsill. Sure enough, in the windowsill was a pile of hamburger meat.

“Sorry,” I say because clearly, I can’t blame the cats or the worthless meat-hating dog. And I am quite nervous she is going to tell my parents. And what I did was quite terrible. She agreed there would be no more hamburger testing. I promised not to do it again.


If only those animals liked hamburger my ruse would have met with great success. 

I am sure this reminded my Aunt of just one of the many reasons they chose not to have children.