Pinterest Pickings - Oreo Chip Cookies

I've decided to add a new side to my blog - critiques of recipes I try on Pinterest.  Why?  Because Pinterest is just so darn big, I know I have a problem finding recipes there that I know will work.  I've had a few be downright failures, and then I see the simplest of cookies, only to open up the ingredients only to find directions that direct me to the path of the Woolly Mammoth in Katmandu for milk.  No.  I want something simple that I can either make at 5:30 in the morning when I've got the extreme hankerin' to bake, or a quick dinner at night when I'm shuffling kidlets to and from activities.  So, here goes.

Oh yes, let's not forget my lame attempt at food porn, as seen above.  This photo is of what I made at 6:30 am today - White Chocolate Oreo Cookies.  And they turned out super yummy.

I was walking through Stop and Shop with Kidlet B yesterday, he was amazed at the new Oreo Thins.  "Who would buy these?  I mean, who wants thin Oreos?" was his complaint.  I became fixated on the chocolate wafer cookies, and just knew I had to put them in some sort of recipe.  Ice cream cookie pie - done before, too easy.  I wanted to BAKE something with them.  So I searched Pinterest.

Now, for those of you on Pinterest, you know the minute you type in any category you'll get a thousand hits back.  Such was the case with "Oreo Cookie."  (And no, I did not buy the thin ones.  Thin Oreos?  I agree with my son.  Bring on the Double Stuffed!)  The first recipe that came up required cream cheese in the recipe.  Nope, not in my house.  I did not feel like dragging my sorry arse back out in the heat, back to Stop and Shop, for cream cheese, which I'll admit I'm not a fan of unless it's a needed ingredient.  Next!  The following recipe called for vanilla pudding.  I searched my cabinets, as I usually have some on hand.  I make a great cookie bar with vanilla pudding, but alas - none!  Search, search, search I did until I came upon this great recipe from The Recipe Critic.  Butter - check.  Sugars white and brown - check.  Oreos - check.  White chocolate chips - check.  I was ready to try this out.

The simplicity of the recipe is what I liked best, and the results were fan-yumsterable-tastic.  The only thing I did differently is used half the amount of white chocolate chips (again, I wasn't about to drag my lazy self back to the supermarket for more).  They still came out fantastic!

Crushing the Oreos was very therapeutic.  How do you crush Oreos, you may ask?  Ah, it's a joy, especially early in the morning.  I took out my cutting board, and laid down two pieces of wax paper.  I put down two Oreo cookies atop one another in between the wax paper, and then slammed them with a meat tenderizer.  Oh yeah!  I must remember to use this method again once the school year starts and I feel stress building.  The pieces were just the right size.  Perfect!

My oven baked them at nine minutes (my oven runs true to temperature), but always test your own, and make sure they don't overcook.  They are so chewy and delish.  Put vanilla ice cream between two to make the perfect ice cream sandwich!

Enjoy!

Goodbye, Vermont

I left vacation a day early.  I know, I know.  With pristine views like the one above, how could I have possibly jumped in that Volvo and sped off?  I had two weeks of blissful days up in the Green Mountain State, but just.had.to.leave.

I adore Vermont.  The longer I stayed there the more I wanted to live there.  I feel like that every year.  There's a certain pace to life that I so enjoy.  People aren't as tense.  There's the natural beauty of the lake, the mountains, which grounds me.  I adore the farmer's markets which seem to spring up in every town on nearly each day of the week.  Perhaps I'm just the yuppie tourist, enjoying her lattes in the gourmet bakeries (Oh my gawd - try Laundry in Vergennes - to die for little chocolate cookies, too!).  I have this view of Vermont that's taken during the warm, summer months, when I'm licking a maple creamy so the sides don't drip down onto my skin.

Yes, vacation was full of fun.  I went on an amazing college tour with my sons at Champlain College, where there's a library terrace that overlooks the lake, and a major in Cyber Security.  How cool is that?  I read, read, and read seven books, pouring through words.  Swimming off the dock and in the sandbar, boat rides with my brother, a bike ride where I almost ran over tourists, all was a good time.

But the closer it got the end I found myself becoming depressed.  A lot of feelings of failure crept in, perhaps triggered from the college visit.  I have so much I want to do, but I haven't done it.  Why?  What am I waiting for?  What am I scared of?  Am I just on the wrong path?

I always wanted to own a summer place, either on the lake or the beach.  Why can't I be ever so thankful that I'm renting a quaint cottage with amazing views and leave it at that?  No, I always want more.  I seem to never be happy with what I have.  I need to change that and make myself express gratitude for what I have, instead of obsessing for what I seek.

So home I came.  Back to the loving meow of my cat, Avi, a stack of mail, and five loads of laundry that needed to be done.  Let the work begin!

I'm trying to think of ways to continue the peace I did gain on vacation back here at home.  One is to keep up my pace of reading throughout the summer until school starts (even though I was just uploading information into my school Skpe account - I can never stay away from the job!).  I've got my pile of books from the library today, so I'm ready.

And gratitude.  Yes, with gratitude comes greatness in life.

Snowcation!

Yes, school vacation is coming to a close, with today being the last day we can remain in our pajamas all day.  It's a staycation for us in the MausiGal household, with Kidlet A on the computer skyping, and Kidlet B going off to snowboard a few times.  Hanging with friends, outings to Starbucks, reading, writing, and generally RELAXING!

It seems to be a concept for February vacation that has been lost.  When my students ask me what I'm doing for vacation, they seem bewildered.

"Señorita, where are you going for vacation?"

"My house.  Starbucks.  Nashua, if I get motivated."

"Hahaha!  No, seriously, where are you going?"

I'm not heading off to Europe or Aruba or Mexico, and for some it's a mystery as to why I would want to spend my free week here in the frigid Northeast.  After all, one of the highlights of my week was having a crew on my roof shoveling off snow in order to stop a leaky ceiling.

 Ice dams be damned!  My staycation would not be ruined!

I finished reading one book, started another, worked on my novel (yes!), sent out postcards, and above all, did what I wanted to do.  All without the pain and suffering of sitting in Logan Airport, wondering when my flight would get out.

I hate airports when I'm flying.  I do enjoy picking people up from them - it's such a happy experience!  But flying?  Blech.  Flights are delayed, usually due to that pesky New England weather at any time of year.  Ice storms, snow storms, thunderstorms.  You name it, Logan is delayed.

That's why I'm such a fan of the staycation.  I can relax, rejuvenate before heading back to all the students I have, the busy schedule of driving from here, there, to everywhere with Kidlet A and Kidlet B.  Cozy in my sock monkey flannels, I can focus on being me and not worrying about rushing about.  No schedules are to be had.

I'm a summer gal.  Let me hibernate until the warm weather comes about.  And no, I do not like spring.  Spring is a harsh tease - a warm day here, a bitter cold one to follow.  I find myself depressed in spring.  It's like showing us candy and then taking it away.  Not fair.  Bring on the eighty degree days of summer, complete with humidity.  The sun, even yes, the thunderstorms.  My little garden in bloom, even with weeds, makes me happy.  At this point as I look at the snow, I would be thankful for a few dandelions.  Their bright yellow on the green of my lawn this year will actually make me smile.  I'll be thankful it's not snow.  And when they blossom into white, I'll blow on them, making a wish, for a winter next year not as harsh as this one.

Christmas Morning Bloggie!

Yes!  It's Christmas morning!  I've been up since five, all excited for my kidlets to wake up and open their presents.  I put the gifts under the tree this morning, stuffed the stockings, and nibbled on the cookies left out for Santa.

But I have teens.  Fourteen year old boys do not wake up at 5:30 am on Christmas morning, so excited to see if they received the latest LEGO firetruck.  Teens sleep in until I insist they get up and come downstairs to open the gifts Santa brought them.

Perhaps I'm filled with too much happiness.  I wonder sometimes if my sons want to vomit on Christmas morning.

"Kidlets!  Time to get up!  Santa came!"

"Mumble mumble mumble..." comes from their bedrooms.  This is usually at seven o'clock.  I can't wait.  I'm so excited!

This morning I tried to keep myself busy, but I'm like a cat on catnip.  I can't focus.  I put together a scrapbook album this morning of themed postcards and stamped happy stamps on students' quizzes.  That took up an hour.  Then I decided I'd bake, one of my other creative outlets.

Alas, no eggs.  I went through three dozen eggs last week, and last night used up the last three on a baked Nutella French toast for the boys.  So much for baking this morning.  Hmmm...  What to do?

Wake up the kiddos?  It's 7:15.  I promised myself I'd hold out until 7:30.  I think that's fair.

I miss the days when I would hear a little voice say, around 6:00 am, "Can we get up now?" on Christmas morning.  We always remember firsts, but forget the lasts, I once heard.  How true it is.  What was the last Christmas that Kidlet A and B said that?  The last Christmas that they sat in their beds, dreaming of remote controlled helicopters and Pokemon cards.  The last Christmas that they couldn't wait to bound out of bed, rush down the stairs, and rip open presents to see what Santa left.  The last Christmas that I could reach down and kiss them on top of the head.  Now it's the other way around, with their height way above mine.

7:21.  Presents are sitting under the tree, and I wonder if they're lonely.  Do the gifts wait in anticipation for being opened, brought to a new home, and embraced by their new owners?  Perhaps I have had too much coffee...

7:23.  The buzzer on the oven just went off, signifying that it's hit 365 degrees and is ready for that Nutella French toast to bake.  It's a Christmas tradition in our house to have baked French toast on Christmas morning.  However, it takes forty minutes to cook, so I'll wait a few minutes before putting it in.  Anyone want the recipe?  This would kill some time for me.

7:24.  I am going to wake them up.  Me in my sock monkey pajamas, ready for the mumbles of morning from two boys who are on the brink of manhood.  They may surpass me in height, not believe in the guy with the red suit, or want those LEGO sets any longer, but for me...they will always be my little guys and my Christmas miracle.

Sprinting!

I haven't been blogging, but most certainly I have been writing!  I signed up for NaNoWriMo this month.  Funky term - what does it mean? National Novel Writing Month!  Yes, I intend to finish my novel in a month.  Here we go!

Writing can be a very solitary experience.  I think that's why I've been drawn to it in the first place.  I enjoy being alone at times.  I can sit on my computer at 5:30 on a Sunday morning, listening to music, and just express my thoughts without having to bother anyone else.  With my cup of coffee and cat at my side, I am perfectly content to ping away at the keyboard with all my words.  I don't need to be entertained.  I entertain myself.

However, NaNoWriMo has given me a lot so far.  There are meet-ups to help you get motivated along with the writing process, meet with other writers, and learn some new techniques as well.  The most major one?

Sprint writing.

I am addicted to sprint writing.  I set the timer for ten minutes, and just write.  Why does it work for me?  In ten minutes I have no excuse to get up and do the dishes, change the laundry, or check out the station on Pandora.  I have only ten minutes to focus in and challenge myself to up my word count.  I usually produce at least 450 words in ten minute intervals - not too shabby.  Above all, and this may sound bad, it doesn't give me time to think.

You may be saying, "Isn't that what a writer is suppose to do?  Think about her work?"

Yes and no.  For me, however, what stuck me on my book for over a year was the over-analyzing of characters, their motives, their futures.  Life doesn't move like that.  As I've especially learned with twin teens, life sprints.  So should my writing.  Just get to that keyboard and go!  My characters have followed suit.  Of course I will go back and edit, and I'm not so vain that I believe I am executing perfect, fine prose this first time around.  But I am moving my plot forward.

So each morning and a few times in the afternoon I sprint.  Setting the cell phone time for ten minutes, I push my characters further into their abyss with obsessive-compulsive disorder and abusive relationships.  But there is a glimmer of hope.  There always is, if we look hard enough.

At over 26,000, I've sprinted halfway to the finish line of my goal of 50,000 by November 30th.  Throw in school work, household chores, and day to day activities and my head starts to spin, but I know I can do it.  It's my outlet.  And ten minutes?  Bring it!  Sprint on!

A Woman of Letters

I haven't done any writing on my book this summer, with the exception of two pages.  Two...meager...pages.  That isn't to say I haven't done any writing.  Each day I've been penning away wonderful emails, letters through Postcrossing, and my new thing - volunteer mail.  I send postcards to sick children.  I mail packages and letters to a wonderful soldier over in Kuwait.  Each morning I'm up around 5:00 am and the writing begins.

But I feel defeated.  I haven't made any progress on THE BOOK.  I even started another one, with the thought that perhaps "Three By Three" had gone stale.  No luck.  I'm like a gnat with a five second attention span.  I just can't do it.  My mind wanders.  I sit down to write, scribe a few lines, then jump up to make more coffee.  Oh yes, let's write a few lines, and then put on Pandora!  Wait!  The cat needs to be fed some kitten treats!  The list goes on and on.  I haven't even updated this blog, as my attention span just can't even fathom sitting down (until now) a subject through to its completion.  Perhaps it's just teacher summer mode?  This is my first summer in my entire career that I did nothing - no graduate classes, no tutoring, no curriculum workshops.  Maybe that put me into sloth mode supreme.  And MausiGal usually runs on empty - all systems go.  I'm not used to doing nothing, and I'm finding it depressing.

Let me take part of that last paragraph back.  The writing I am doing - through postcards and mail - is doing lots of good, and I should be proud of it.  But each time I open the computer it seems that THE BOOK is there, looming in the distance, waiting to be worked on.  Have I lost my passion for it?  Do I need to ditch it and just start another?  Start it again with a different theme?  I don't know.  I don't have an answer.

Writing is a very solitary endeavor, and it seems everyone is doing it.  I did join a Writers' Group, but didn't go as I didn't complete the prerequisite pages completed for the week.  Bad, bad MausiGal.  Maybe I need to just dive in, start something new, and do it.  And stop whining.

The Simple Life

"I think I'll walk around the house...doing nothing!" I said to Kidlet B yesterday.  It's no surprise for my lazy attitude.   This is my first summer in my entire teaching career that I haven't been doing something - whether that be coursework, working another job, or workshops.  Unfortunately strolling around the house was short lived, as sun poisoning from last Friday has prevented me from doing much walking anywhere.  And yes, far be it for me to do nothing for very long.

There are postcards to write.  A novel to work on.  Dishes to wash since the dishwasher broke.  Laundry to fold.  Books to read that I didn't get to last summer.  The list goes on and on.  I thought about it, and realized I truly need to learn how to relax.  Yesterday I actually did watch a movie and knit for about an hour and a half.  However, the movie was "The Wolf of Wall Street."  There was only so much debauchery I could take, and I still have another half of the movie to go through.

But this summer is about the simple things.  The day at the beach was just that.  Jumping in the waves, ham sandwiches packed in L.L. Bean lunch bags, the smell of sunscreen (yes, I did have it on), sand on towels.  Despite my nasty burn, I would not trade that day with Kidlet A and Kidlet B for anything.

This week I've had the chance to revisit my grandmothers in mindful ways.  They were two women who always reminded me to appreciate the small things in life as well.

My dishwasher broke.  It just won't clean.  Plates come out with specks of, well, stuff on them.  To quote one kidlet, "This is gross."  Yes, we clean our plates off before putting them in the dishwasher, but obviously our ten year old dishwasher has decided it's time to move on.  As we await for the new one to arrive, I've been doing the dishes by hand.  One of my fondest memories is doing dishes with my Grandmother Berg in Vermont.  She would slowly, methodically wash each dish, and I would dry.  Above all else, we would have the most amazing conversations while cleansing the plates and cutlery.  This wasn't always small talk.  I recall her giving me advice about life, and at times knots would form in my stomach as to what my future may hold.  She was blind, yet never dropped a dish.

My other grandmother, who passed away a few months ago, was meticulous with cleaning.  Me?  Well, let's be honest.  Not so much.  My dad passed along a box of her towels from her home shortly after her death, and I finally opened it yesterday.  I've always been told I have a "nose" - an incredible sense of smell.  When I opened the box, the fresh scent of clean towels was Nana!  I was unashamed to bury my head in them and just inhale the aroma.  Clean.  Not like the fake Yankee Candle "Fresh Linen" you can purchase, but one that makes you think of being all bundled up after a bath in childhood.  I regretfully hung one towel on the back of the bathroom door, not without breathing in - Nana, Nana, Nana - one more time before thinking that the towel would be used tomorrow.

I am so grateful for these simple things.  Let summer be filled with them!