BEST Oatmeal Raisin Cookie. Ever.

Occasionally, I peruse the pantry for open items that will deteriorate if not used used up. Those items may determine what I will make for dinner or what treats I will make and take to an upcoming event.

This week, I noticed an open bag of raisins that would certainly go to waste because no one in this house eats raisins much. I can't even remember why I bought them. But there were a lot of them because I bought them at Costco.

And then there is this:

That's 20 lbs. of quick oats my friend. Twenty pounds.

Though the shelf life of this (and most unopened Thrive products) is 25 years, the shelf life after opening it is 1 year. I can't remember when I opened it, but I'm guessing it's been about 6-9 months. And I'm pretty sure I only used a cup or two.

Time to make something with oatmeal.

I wanted to make a treat for a baptism on Saturday. No brainer. Oatmeal Raisin Cookies!

I went to my trusty, tried, and true resource, the Better Homes and Garden Cookbook. I don't know why, because for the past 3-4 years, I pretty much use the Internet for any recipe. Except chocolate chip cookies (saving that for another post).

What resulted was a batch of the worst tasting, worst looking, nastiest bleh cookies I have ever had the misfortune of passing down my gullet.

Okay, I guess they don't look that bad, but they taste, well, not nasty but definitely bleh.

Made the whole darn batch even though I could tell right off they weren't right. I should have known from the recipe. It called for baking powder. The ratio of butter to flour was way off. And no salt. No salt! The horror.

I wanted to try again because now I had a hankering for oatmeal raisin cookies. Yesterday, on my daily visit to Pinterest, I found what looked to be a great recipe. I went to the site of smitten kitten.

Her take on oatmeal raisin cookies is right. on. the. mark. Bullseye. Go there. Out of respect, I'm not even going to print the recipe here or use her pictures. GO THERE!

She is a cookie goddess.

She started with the Quaker Oats box recipe and made it better.

But what is absolutely amazing is I made it EVEN BETTER. Me!
How? I added coconut. Also, I used butter flavor Crisco. And pecans instead of walnuts, though I only used half of what the recipe called for.

I'm telling you, these cookies are TO. DIE. FOR. Exclamation point.

 

As promised by smitten kitten, they are crispy on the outside, chewy-gooey on the inside.

They are so good, I ate a half dozen. That's so bad because I started Weight Watchers 2 weeks ago and have lost 4.4 pounds and was doing great this week until tonight.

6 cookies was too many.

4 would have satisfied just fine.

In Plain Sight

I love almost everything about my husband. Even those pesky quirks.

Like this one: I don't know how many times a week I hear, "Honey, do you know where the ____ is?!" I'm pretty sure that's a married guy thing. I certainly remember my father hollering this out to my mother regularly. And I've heard friends' husbands say it.

In my husband's case, the most frequent scenario in which I hear the aforementioned phrase is when the 'fridge is open. And usually, all it would take for him to find the desired item is to move something out of the way. Or look on the lower shelf. Can I hear an "amen," sisters?

Also (and somewhat related), is the fact that he will rarely eat fruits and vegetables unless reminded to and when placed in close proximity to his mouth, but other than a regular banana at breakfast time, he is not much known for exerting any kind of energy to ingest them.

Took me awhile, but I now use these "quirks" to my advantage.

I've shared in earlier posts my addiction to Diet Coke. Though I don't believe my husband shares this addiction, he does have an addictive personality, which manifests in, well, let's say a "more is more" (as opposed to "less is more") attitude. In short, my husband has no concept of portion control. A few cookies? No, the entire box. A couple of slices of pizza? No, the entire pizza. One glass of the diet coke from the 2 liter bottle? No, the entire 2 liters.

The result is that I must hide the diet coke. I like to think I hide it to protect him from himself. But really, it annoys the bejeebers out of me to reach for my mood-enhancing d.c. at about 10:45 a.m. to find none! Talk about mood-enhancing. Grrrr.

I used to hide it in my hobby room, but he has discovered it, and I had to find a new hiding place.

I found one!

In plain sight.

Does this make me sneaky?

In a bad way?

More Birthdays!

I met my friend, Lynn, about 10 years ago. We were in the same church congregation. She and I share a birthday, and I think that was actually the reason we first talked to each other. I immediately liked her, and we discovered we shared other things in common, like our hometowns were about 20 miles apart. Even though she was about 16 years younger, we became fast friends.

She was diagnosed about 14 months ago with the exact same kind of breast cancer I had, yet hers metasticized to her brain and spine. She was only 32 when diagnosed.

I thought I was young when diagnosed; my first diagnosis was when I was 37. I lived to celebrate birthdays 38, 39, 40, etc., until 47, when I was diagnosed with my second "onset." Still, I lived to see my 48th birthday, and I will likely see 49 and many more. *fingers crossed*  *knock on wood* etc. etc.

Lynn won't get to celebrate her 33rd birthday (at least not on earth). She died this past Sunday. Easter Sunday. The irony.

I've heard people describe a deceased person as having been "full of life" and "vivacious." Man oh man, that was definitely Lynn. I always thought of her as a rebel, but not in a bad way (generally and religiously speaking, rebellion is bad). In my mind, I called her the Reverent Rebel. I may have told her that at some point this past year. I hope so.

I've been feeling survivor's guilt all week.

I once heard a speaker at church say that guilt is useless unless it gets us to act. So as I try to figure out what I can/should do, I've found something you can do. 'Cause that's how I roll.

Even though you probably do not know her (I'm having a hard time thinking of her in the past tense), you likely know someone who has, had, or will have cancer. Here's something that you can do that may improve their chances of celebrating more birthdays.

Consider enrolling in the American Cancer Society's research study about cancer prevention. Just consider it.

If you've never been diagnosed with cancer (except skin), you are eligible. They are trying to enroll 300,000 subjects but are about 120,000 short. It is a nationwide study, so it doesn't matter where you are.

If you are in Columbus OH, here is the link:  ColumbusCPS3.org

If you are anywhere else, here is the link for more information: http://www.cancer.org/research/researchprogramsfunding/epidemiology-cancerpreventionstudies/cancerpreventionstudy-3/index

Please just think about doing it.

But not for me.

Think about the one person you love most in this world and consider doing it for that person.

Just in case.

For more birthdays.

Birthdays come with cake. Win win!

Denial and Dyslexia

I've noticed that it's been well over two months since I posted. Not a good track record and not good for people who tune in to see what's up in my life.

Here's an update:

I've been in denial about my child's lack of progress/success in kindergarten. Please don't jump down my throat about development and "every kid is different." I know that. But I also know that Heavenly Father blesses mothers with special "power" regarding their own children. And I've been ignoring what that power has been telling me.

BB's teachers tried to tell me in our first P-T conference in November. I showed a common sign: denial. And kept that denial up until mid-January, our second P-T conference. When her teachers told me that they wanted BB to have a "growth year" (read: hold her back for another year in Kindergarten).

Wake up call!

I've been trying to teach BB her letters and letter sounds since she was three. Yes, we read to her almost every day. We sing. We rhyme. We play word games, matching, I spy, etc. Everything you are supposed to do to build up phonemic awarenss. My child knows 4-6 letters and 3-4 letter sounds depending on the day. She knows some one day, can't remember those same ones the next day. Class signs of dyslexia.

I had her informally tested by a friend who runs the reading clinic at my university employer's main. The CTOPP (Comprehensive Test of Phonological Processing) is one of the many tests used in combination to diagnose dyslexia. BB scored really, really low. The result of this one test is far from a definite diagnosis, but it's another sign, that when put together, points in the direction of dyslexia.

At about this time (January 1), I (and all my higher ed colleagues) found about about a law that the State of Ohio just passed that mandates that beginning in 2014, every teacher who earns a teaching license in the state of Ohio must have a reading class about teaching students with dyslexia. I immediately let my coordinator know I want to teach that class. And then I immediately began taking the training required to teach kids with dyslexia to read.

Dual purpose fueled by the power that makes mama bears tear apart any one who gets in between her and her cubs. This might be a good time to indicate that reading instruction is not my area of specialty.

The hallmark of effectively teaching children with dyslexia to read involves systematic, explicitic instruction in combination with a multisensory structural language instruction approach. I've got the first half of that and am learning the other half.

So, things got interesting when, two weeks ago, my coordinator called a meeting with me and the reading instructor for our regional campus and told us that she wanted to start a reading clinic at our campus in order to address the need that the 3rd grade reading guarantee has produced. She wants us to offer a reading endorsement because our campus doesn't offer one and if teachers in our area want one, they have to go to a "competitor" or main campus. Generally, teachers in our area won't drive as far as main campus, so our competitors are getting the business.

I understood that I was in that meeting because I want to teach the aforementioned dyslexia class, which is a part of the reading endorsement.

And then she dropped the bombshell. She wants me to run the clinic and teach the clinic class. (Oh, I should probably mention that the reading guy isn't tenure track, so technically, I outrank him even though he has about 100 more years of experience).

Um. Excuse me?

Yes, I want to teach this class and run this clinic. But it's a lot of work, and much of it will be uncompensated. And I have a child that needs to be taught how to read, requiring lots of tutoring from a trained tutor (no, not the ones that will be tutoring in the clinic...they won't have the skills yet).

I am remind of a quotation from a leader in our church. I'm paraphrasing here, but it's something like, "No amount of success outside of the home can compensate for failure inside the home." So, yes, I want to save the world (our country?) by getting teachers trained to teach children with dyslexia how to read.

But I need to take care of my child first.

The hard decisions in life are never about a choice between a good option and a bad one. They seem to always be about a choice between a good choice and a better one.

Ugh. Being grown up is hard.

So, that's what I've been up to.

One of the Many Reasons a Credit Union is Better than a Bank

On December 18, I came home to this on the porch:

This was was that red lettering said:

This was what was inside that brown box:

This is what the card said:

And THIS was inside!

How cool is it that not only our credit union so appreciates our business that they send us a REALLY useful gift for the holidays but that they also know us well enough to know we hadn't wrapped a single gift a week before Christmas!

Customer for life.

Spider Story Update

The post dated September 11, 2012  (it seemed like years ago, for as long as it's been since I posted) and A Couple of Half-baked Thoughts and a Spider Story was about the end result of some sort of insect bite I received in early August. I am now scarred for life. I am not kidding. Not pretty.

I ended up seeing the doctor about a week later simply because some lymph nodes on my head and neck on the same side as the spider bite were swollen. After having had another lymphectomy, I didn't want to take any chances. The doctor immediately diagnosed the bites as spider bites and prescribed antibiotics, steroids, and topical cortizone.

I have since done HOURS AND HOURS of Internet research on spider bites and have learned that spider bites are extremely difficult to diagnose unless you catch the spider in the act and most doctor-diagnosed spider bite are usually something else.

Almost as soon as I began using the topical cortizone, the skin at the site of the bites became necrotic. It wasn't until weeks later, too late to do anything about it actually, that I remembered that one of my professor colleagues is a spider researcher.

I showed him the bites and he said in no uncertain terms, "Not a spider bite."

I asked him if it would do any good to bring him a spider specimen. That man got positively giddy. That is why he is known as "Spiderman" by this students, I guess.

We've seen numerous spiders, unfortunately in BonnieBlue's room, and it seemed logical that if I was bitten by a spider it was one of the many we've been seeing. I killed two before I remembered I was supposed to get an undamaged specimen.

The fated day came, and according to Spiderman's directions, we caught one in a small jar, filled it with isopropyl alcohol, and put him in the freezer until I could take him in.

Spiderman identified the little hairy intruder thusly: definitely a male sheet-web spider (Family Agelenidae), probably of the species Agelenopsis pennsylvanica.  This is a spider common to Ohio (and Pennsylvania, I would assume), and he indicated that there was little or no chance that it gave me the awful scar I now sport. Spiderman also offered that what happened to me looked just like what happens as a result of staph infection.

So, tens of more hours on the Internet, and I was convinced. I either contracted the staph at the doctor's office, or from the topical cortizone, or carried it home with me from the hospital when I had a mastectomy. Another friend told me that staph is commonly found in horse barns; that is consistent with an insect bite from the garden as we fertilize with horse manure.

So, mystery solved, at least in my head. I am styling my hair so that the forehead scar is hidden and the nose bridge scars are fading. I may be beautiful again someday.

Barbie Musketeer for Halloween 2012

Seemed like a good idea to combine these two posts, given the topics.

First Halloween.

How cute is this?!

I was inspired by these.

Google really is the end-all-be-all for creating Halloween costumes. I found this picture when I Googled "Barbie Musketeer tutorial," which took me to Brown Paper Packages, a blog by a woman who made these great Barbie Musketeer costumes for her kids a couple of  years ago and posted a tutorial.

I gave myself permission to NOT be supermom and instead improvise as needed. I cannot actually sew very well, so the first things to go were the skirt and shirt. Target's clearance rack provided a $2.40 skirt that I added a $2.00 ruffle to (for a petticoat; didn't turn out so well and BonnieBlue was visibly and verbally disappointed in it). She already had the shirt. This woman (a.k.a. SuperCostumeMakerMom) made the hats, corsets, and boots. I improvised on all three: 1) The corset I made had no rouching on the back but I'm planning to add that; I didn't have elastic thread and didn't have time to go out and get some; 2) I bought a pink cowboy hat at Target for $8 and a fake feather at Michael's for $3; and 3) The boots were duct-tape over boots she never wears.

The whole point of this post (except, of course, to show off my child) is to share the idea she came up with for making boots. She made them like this:

1. Have child put on an old pair of ballet-type Mary Janes (they'll never be able to be worn again, fyi)
2. Pull on a pair of old knee socks over them.
3. Duct-tape from shoe to top of sock.
4. Cut off down the center using a pair of surgical scissors.

Somewhere in there she also added the boot cuff, but again, I improvised because I didn't have time. I was sewing right up until it was time to leave for the church Halloween party.

But man-oh-man, I thought this was brilliant! What a great way to make any kind of costume shoe!

Unfortunately, BonnieBlue was would have nothing to do with me duct-taping her lower let. So here's what I did:

I took a pair of boots her older cousin gave her that she won't wear and stuffed a pair of my winter socks in the shoe part, one in the toe and one in the heel. Then I placed a water bottle in the shaft of the boot.

Then I started duct-taping, starting at the toe and working my way up.

Using both sturdy all-purpose scissors and fabric scissors, I cut them down the middle. I added duct tape to the open ends that I had just cut, and then added another piece on each side so that the tape extended out beyond the boot, giving me enough room to add some eyelets. 



Added some gold trim bought by the yard at JoAnns for a couple of bucks.

Again, she wasn't too thrilled with the boots, but several of the little girls at the Halloween party were ga-ga over them and asked where she got them. Unfortunately for me, no glowing-child-response of "My mom made them!"  Oh well.

All in all, about a 20 dollar costume, that she didn't hate too badly.

As Halloween approached she did say over and over again that she wanted to be Jewel (the female bird in Rio). I agonized over not making the costume that she really wanted, but I couldn't  figure out a way to do it that would be...well, doable.

I'm not all that bummed that she wasn't as excited as I had hoped she would. I'm pretty sure she got the message that I wanted her to: We don't buy pre-packaged, crappy costumes. We buy a few accessories and make our own crappy costumes!