My Dearest Friend,
Sometimes I remember the little Polish women who used to walk slowly down our street in Detroit (usually on their way to daily mass), hunched over wearing babushskas and I think, “Forget about turning into my mother, I think I’m turning into one of them!” These days I feel as if my boobs are inches away from scraping the floor and that if it wasn’t for shuffling I’d never get anywhere. When youth decided to leave, it didn’t bother to pack, or leave a forwarding address.
Ernie and I went for massages two weeks ago. We were so damn excited (I was anyway) –> we’ve been recovering every day since. We’re going again on Valentine’s Day. We initially felt so good afterwards that we let ourselves be
suckered into convinced into signing up for a monthly massage. (For we are old and easy like that.) When we filled out the questionnaire before our sessions, we both checked “Medium” as the amount of pressure we wanted to have applied to our muscles (haha, I write that as if we actually have some). We may have to change that to “Light” (as in very light, super gentle, like I-don’t-even-know-even-know-why-we’re-paying-for-this soft) pressure. <– notice the repeat? I think I’m losing my mind a bit, too. Guess you could say that we’re into masochism since we signed a contract to return every month. Pray for us, for we are obviously silly and to senile to care.
I’ve been attempting to clean and organize our cupboards (and just about every room in the house). TEA. I seem to have acquired an obsession for tea. I can barely close the cupboard door because the boxes and tins are all wonky. So I’ve begun ordering kitchen cupboard organizers for dishes, cans, and spices. I’m sure it won’t be long until it becomes my new obsession. So much for having it all together as an older adult. About the only thing I seem to have all together is my ability to fall apart. I’m to the point now that, if my arm falls off as I walk thru the room, kindly leave it there — I’ll retrieve it on my way back.
Both of us are still working. We probably always will be. We won’t even know when we’re dead because we’ll be too busy working, which will save us oodles in funeral costs and thoroughly tick off the kids. #usingupyourinheritanceeventhoughwe’redead
Well, I am going to end here and pop this into the post. I’m going to bake some cookies from all the makings I’ve found scavenging the cupboards. I’ll call them BOOTY COOKIES because I’ve uncovered a treasure chest’s worth of goods and have no idea how long they’ve been buried. Dead ingredients tell no tales.
Living la vida loca,
1/2 cup (1 stick) plus 6 tbsp. butter, softened
3/4 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 cups Quaker Oats (quick or old-fashioned, uncooked)
1 mixed cup of chocolate & butterscotch chips, coconut, dried fruits and chopped nuts.
Note: If you want to insure moist, chewy cookies, when you double the recipe, only add 1 1/2 cups of the mixture of chocolate &/or butterscotch chips, coconut, dried fruits, and /or chopped nuts. If you double on this item (2 cups), the cookies will lose most of their moisture.
Heat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. In large bowl, beat butter and sugars on medium speed of electric mixer until creamy. Add eggs and vanilla; beat well. Add combined flour, baking soda, cinnamon and salt; mix well. Add oats; mix well. Fold in nuts and dried fruit. Drop dough by rounded tablespoonfuls onto ungreased, or parchment paper lined, cookie sheets.
Makes three dozen (or so).