ANOTHER CANDLE ON THE CAKE

Some say that time marches. If it marched I'm sure I could keep pace. I believe it dashes, darts, and races with me just barely hanging on. Some say that time flies. Now that I can agree with.

I celebrated another birthday yesterday. How did I get to be this old already? I demand a recount. Time is definitely my enemy. Not just because it gives me sagging jowls and grays my hair, but because it robs me of the many things I want to do and don't seem to have time for.

Maybe I want to do too much, maybe I have no direction or maybe I'm just slow, or is it all of the above? I find it very unsettling. Does anyone else share these feelings or am I alone in my mid-life frustrations?

Birthday Candle Photo by juliaklarman

A.S.S.

I would call it the Aunt Sally Syndrome, but saying all those words is so twentieth century. Think how much time can be saved by using the acronym, A.S.S. Probably before the calendars are flipped to the next century, we’ll forgo words completely and communicate by spouting off only clipped letters.

Well, back to Aunt Sally and her syndrome, actually she doesn’t have the syndrome, it’s my husband who does. Aunt Sally won’t be familiar to you unless you’ve visited or lived in New Orleans. There she is famous (if you’re skinny) or infamous (if you’re fat) for her pecan pralines, a delightful confection made of a buttery, sugary syrup. Before I go any further, let’s get one thing straight - the pronunciation. Unless you want to sound like a complete Yankee or a Brit, you must say PRAH-leens, not PRAY-leens.

It all started when my born, bred, and schooled in New Orleans husband, who just happens to be the second smartest man on Earth, was planning to concoct a NAWlin’s specialty for a dinner party. My idea for dessert was pecan pie or Breyers praline ice cream. Remembering that my best friend has a microwavable praline recipe, he said, “Why not go for the real thing?”

After the nightmare experience of making candy canes with my boys and the neighbor kids many Christmases ago, I'm convinced that candy is something to be bought, not made, so my response was, “I have a house to clean. If you want pralines, you’ll need to make them.” Right there and then, without a doubt, is the moment my husband caught ASS. The first batch came out so perfect that he made more, many more. Only running out of ingredients made him stop. Our guests loved them. Everyone wanted the recipe when he went on about how easy they were to make.

The next day, he sent me out for more supplies and containers. He wanted to make enough for one of our son's teachers . He also thought they'd make great Christmas gifts for his business associates. This shopping trip rubbed the cheap side of me the wrong way. Paying full price for something when I’d normally get it on sale and with coupons was not my MO.

Apparently the praline gods had somewhere else to be whenever he entered Round Two. It was disaster from the get-go. They were too runny, some stuck to the wax paper like Super Glue. Each batch seemed to have unique ailments. How can something that was so easy one day, be so impossible the next? Calling upon his science and physics background, he was Googling to find out where he was going wrong, why and how to fix it.

Only because he was too tired to scrap the whole bunch, and went to bed with bunches of sticky wet globs still stretched out on the wax paper (and everyplace else that he touched) did he have any to show for the additional batches he attempted. The next morning he found that some had dried and he was able to lift them off the wax paper and into the containers.

The teachers got pralines, but less than he’d planned. WWASD in a situation like this? Well, if Aunt Sally is anything like my husband, she'd remember how easy they were to make the first time and she'd wake up two days later and ask me to buy more ingredients. This time I opted out of doing the shopping. I knew I wouldn't be able to handle this painful experience a second time. When I returned from a church activity Sunday night, ASS had commandeered my kitchen again only this time he was smiling. Apparently the praline gods had returned.

Prauline Photo by Stormy Sleep

DREAM VACATION

When most people think of a dream vacation, they have mental visions of palm trees swaying in ocean breezes or musky cobblestone streets separating shadowy European buildings, but for me, I can't think of a better vacation than the one I returned from last fall. My trip to visit with family members and friends that have been so close to my heart but so far away in time and distance, brought me more pleasure and joy than I can express.

It had been from eight to thirty-eight years since I last spent time with some of these wonderful people. Where do the years go? I definitely don't get “back home” often enough. Thanks to each and everyone of them for the love and the time they shared with me.

My solo 2000-mile road trip was quite easy thanks to accessible directions on the Internet, an ample supply of books-on-tape and good weather, except for the five-minute deluge when I couldn't see beyond the windshield en route to my cousin Mary's house.

Map Quest directions were accurate all but once. I can't tell you how many trips I made up and down St. Charles Rock Road in St. Louis searching for my sister's street. Map Quest hadn't let me down before so it didn't occur to me that it could actually be wrong. Just for the record, Rex Avenue in St. Louis does not intersect with St. Charles Rock Road.

Gateway Arch Photo by geodesic

ONE & ONLY FRUIT SALAD

So fast! So easy! So delicious! You can chuck those other fruit salad recipes. This is the only one you’ll ever want.

Mix together canned crushed pineapple and sweetened condensed milk, add some or all of the following ingredients (canned, fresh or frozen) cut to bite-size pieces. Drain most of the juice from canned fruit except the pineapple.

1 can crushed pineapple (don’t drain)
1 can sweetened condensed milk
fruit cocktail, tropical or regular
pears
peaches
mandarin oranges
strawberries
bananas
apples
any other fruit that you like
marshmallows
nuts, unsalted (pecans, walnuts, almonds)

Devouring the sweetened condensed milk with a spoon, right from the can, makes me a happy-camper, however, I keep my dignity by adding the fruit.

Thanks to Burgundy Olivier, cookbook author and my sister-in-law, for my adaptation of her fruit salad recipe. This gal knows food. She could knock Paula Deen right outta the ring. Check out her I LOVE SPINACH COOKBOOK. It’s a fun read, even if you dislike spinach: www.ilovespinach.com/.

Fruit photo by ultimcodex