Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Summer, you are never ending...

If you want to feel like your summer lasts a lifetime, move to Las Vegas.  One recent late Sunday afternoon I climbed into my car and the thermostat actually read 122 degrees.  I quickly used my phone to take a picture because, hey, let's just memorialize that sort of stifling (disgusting) feeling in full and complete Sunday dress.  Summers are very long here, unless you're a Seminary teacher.  Then they evaporate before your eyes.  I'm not a Seminary teacher right now so this summer felt like an eternity.  True, it isn't over yet.  We can expect triple digits through the month of September . . . but the entire blogosphere continues to talk about Autumn, apples, pumpkin, changing leaves and butternut squash.  I cannot deal.


I am packing up my library queue and going to the happiest place on earth and it isn't in Anaheim.  Fourteen novels await along with a stack of Vanity Fair, Esquire and Bon Appetit magazines.  I have sunscreen, my backpack beach chair, flip flops and enough diet coke to ensure I make the most of my days.  Who needs sleep when there is fun to be had?  Vacation, you've been a long time coming this year.


Lately I've been making those bran muffins that supposedly last in your refrigerator for six weeks.  The batter is never around that long in my house, but it's kind of great to get up each day and take one lone ramekin, spray it with some Pam and put an ice cream scoop of bran muffin batter in there.  Hot homemade muffin every day.  There's a reason this recipe has been around since the 1950's.
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My cardio corner in the garage has recently been revamped.  That treadmill I bought on Craigslist last January bit the dust after six months.  I cannot complain considering the price I paid for it.  What I can complain about is that one day, while running, it stoppedJust stopped.  The next day the treadmill worked, so I repeated my pathetic little routine, hoping it was a fluke.  It stopped mid-workout.  The third time it happened I realized I was risking injury, teeth even, so I spotted another treadmill on Craigslist and brought it home.  (This, you see, is one of the perks of living in a city that gambles.  There's always LOTS of exercise equipment being sold.)  The only thing is this super high-tech and expensive treadmill (also extra quiet) says I am burning about a third of the calories the first treadmill swore I was getting to add to myfitnesspal.  So I hate this fancy new treadmill and I would like my old treadmill back.  What a mind game.  A demotivating mind game.
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I'm dismayed by all the hate on the internet.  I can't bring myself to read a news story on my computer for fear I may get a glimpse of the comments.  Is this how people are?   When Mount Charleston was on fire I refreshed my computer screen 100 times a day looking for news.  Why would there be negative comments on a news story about a fire ignited by lightning?  Later I discovered there are actual blogs devoted to hating The Pioneer Woman.  Seriously, who could hate Ree Drummond?  THAT I just cannot understand.
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While stopping in at my local library (it's tricky to time everything just right releasing that library queue) I saw an elderly man checking out some DVDs.  Mannix, to be exact.  I felt so old and not because I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  Here was this old man reliving an enjoyable part of his past and I knew what he was watching.  I knew my kids wouldn't know that old television series but I sure did.  It felt odd. 
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I did not appreciate the movie Amour.  I'd read so much about it and was anxious to see it, but instead found it so very depressing.  I did appreciate Blue Jasmine. I am a sucker for anything Bernie Madoff related.  A fun 90 minutes was Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf's and Venus and Serena. Movies are part of my plan next week.
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Can you trust those yummy looking recipes on Pinterest?  My daughter made a passing remark that went something like this:  "You just can't trust those Pinterest recipes."  This was after I'd made the Asian meatballs that looked so cute on miniature forks.  They were terrible.  So, alas, it's true - the only way to know is to dip your toes in the water and go for it.  Say no to the Asian meatballs, but these Snickerdoodles . . . make them.

1 cup butter
1 ½ cup sugar (plus 3 Tbsp for rolling in)
2 eggs
2 ¾ cup flour
2 tsp cream of tartar
1 tsp baking soda
¼ tsp salt
3 tsp cinnamon

Preheat oven to 400. Mix thoroughly butter, sugar, and eggs. In a separate bowl stir
together flour, cream of tartar, soda and salt. Gradually add dry ingredients into butter
mixture. Roll dough into balls the size of small walnuts. Mix together the 3 Tbsp of
sugar and 3 tsp cinnamon. Roll each dough ball in the cinnamon sugar mixture. Place
each ball 2 inches apart on an ungreased baking sheet. Bake at 400 for 8 to 10 minutes.
Cookies should be lightly brown but still soft.

I believe I shall blog next week.  Sometimes I just have to share that book.  Some need to be spoken about.  By the way, have you read Gone Girl

Happy end of summer (not here).  If you live east of Chicago please keep it down to a dull roar about how beautiful the weather is, would you?

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