Funtalia (fun-tal-ya)

St. Patrick’s Day is done and gone - today is National Lacy Oatmeal Cookie Day!  (Love the name, don’t you?)  Thanks to my SIL, M, for making me aware of this special day.  Oddly enough, I just had these delish cookies for the first time this past Christmas.  I didn’t make them; I bought them (and admittedly purely because of their lovely name).  If I did make them though, I think I would use the recipe below.  It looks so good!  (Of course, I had to find a recipe that included chocolate!)  Make this special treat for your fam and friends tonight, and then tell me if there is anything cool out there that boasts your name in the title.

Chocolate-Drizzled Lacy Oatmeal Cookies

INGREDIENTS:
For the cookies:
1/2 cup oats, chopped in food processor
1/4 cup flour
1/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons corn syrup
6 tbsp melted butter (until the foam subsides)
2 tablespoons heavy cream
Pinch of salt

For the ganache:
1/4 cup chocolate chips
1 tbsp heavy cream

DIRECTIONS:
In a food processor, pulse the raw oats several times until they become small pieces.  While that is going, melt the butter in a small saucepan.

Combine all ingredients for the cookies in a large bowl, and stir to combine.  Spoon onto baking sheets by the teaspoon, placing each cookie at least 3″ apart from others - they spread a lot!  Bake at 425 for 6-8 minutes, or until cookies have spread and are just beginning to brown around the edges.  Let them cool completely on the baking sheets before sliding them off with a spatula.

For the chocolate drizzle, melt chocolate chips and 2 tablespoons heavy cream for 15 seconds in the microwave on high heat.  Stir to combine.  If there are lumps, heat for an additional 5 seconds at a time.  Spoon the ganache into a squeeze bottle, and use it to drizzle chocolate onto the cookies either on the cooled baking sheets or on a wire rack.  Serve!  (Makes about 24-30 cookies.)

So yum!  Enjoy!

Today is March 14th (3/14), which only means one thing…it’s Pi Day!  (Pi is roughly equal to 3.14, get it?)  This was first publicly observed at field trip hotspot/coolest place ever - the San Francisco Exploratorium!  That was over 20 years ago.  Since then, a lot of people (okay, math geeks) like to celebrate Pi Day by reciting as many digits of pi as possible (boring!) and by eating as many pies as possible (fun!).

Since the show, Pushing Daisies, is literally pushing up daisies now, you won’t be able to have Ned, “The Pie Maker,” bake you up anything special to celebrate this seemingly infinite number at the Pie Hole where everything is bright and lovely.  Instead, you’ll just have to hit up your slightly-more-drab Marie Callender’s to honor this relationship between a circle’s circumference and diameter with your friends tonight.  Have fun!  Happy Pi Day!

I want to linger a little longer on the topic of Pushing Daisies.  I liked this show initially because I found the concept original, the writing clever, and the cinematography gorgeous.  However, when the star-crossed lovers cannot even hold hands?, things can get a little frustrating to say the least.  I had to stop watching out of sake for my own peace of mind.  Because of this, I have no idea how it ended.  I’m really just curious about one thing: Did Chuck (pictured above) and Ned ever get to embrace?  (I am pretty much relying on K to answer this.  I am sure she watched until the bitter end since she went on a personal crusade to save the show. )

How about the rest of you?  Are you sad this ABC dramedy was canceled?  Do you care?  Do you even know what I’m talking about?

I must admit the main reason I read Seventeen as a teenager was for the “Traumarama” section.  I’m sure it’s why you do too.  Why is it that others always want to know about our Most Embarrassing Moment (M*E*M)?

We all witnessed Ashlee Simpson's M*E*M on SNL. Oh well. At least she played it cool by exiting with a jig and then blaming it all on her band. :)

I’ve found that real “embarrassing moments” are less “ha ha” humorous and more “how could this happen?” horrifying.  Of course, those aren’t the stories people want - they’re just too painful to hear.  On the other hand, they also don’t want a story that was only a little embarrassing.  The time you walked out of the school bathroom with TP stuck to your stiletto just isn’t that funny.  And the request for M*E*Ms always seem to come at the most unexpected moments when you find yourself among a crowd of semi-strangers who are waiting on the edge of their seats to hear your tale.  So as not to be caught off guard, I like to keep one (with just the right amount of embarrassment) in my back pocket to pull out for just such occasions.  Here’s my rehearsed M*E*M:

“When I was a freshman in high school, my friends and I participated in a scavenger hunt type activity with several other groups of kids.  Once the hunt was over, the trail lead all of our groups to someone’s house where a trampoline and a large spread of assorted donuts were awaiting us.

“Now donuts were a novelty in my family growing up.  We lived on the outskirts of town, far from any donuts shoppes, so dunkin’ fresh donuts in the morning was never really an option for us.  However, that year, I had begun taking a class that bribed us for good behavior and attendance with Donut Day every Friday.  It was during one of said Donut Days that I was first introduced to the custard-filled donut, a delicacy in its own right.  It was love at first bite, and I thus put a formal claim on one each week thereafter.

“To my delight, there was one of these custard-filled dreams rubbing shoulders with all of the fritters and crullers on the dessert table at this gathering.  After making my obvious pick, my friends and I made our way over and on to the trampoline.  There were about ten of us on there, just standing around, eating our donuts.  Now, I don’t know about you, but I was raised with the belief that one should announce when they are going to do a flip and/or any other type of trick on the trampo when others are present.  Apparently, there was one among us that night who had not yet received such training.  I was walking from one friend over to another when - all of a sudden - I was hit!  Not by a fist, but by a foot!  This friend of mine - who was the #1 shot put and discus thrower at our jr. high if that tells you anything - had done a front flip out of nowhere and was currently landing on my face.  Her body pushed me all the way down as it fell on top of me.

“Now if that was not enough trauma for a 14-year-old to undergo in front of dozens of her peers, let us please remember what I was consuming at the time.  The scare of the abrupt blow to my forehead had caused me to duck and cover, throwing my hands - and consequently, my custard-filled donut - into my face.  When I arose from the collision, I looked like the casualty of a pie-throwing clown - I was literally dripping in custard.  I was so furious, I yelled something along the lines of ‘WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?!’ and threw the little bit of donut that I still had clenched in my trembling fist at the girl who had just used me as a gym mat.  Then, in an effort to appear the victim, the culprit started off the trampoline with a limp, complaining that my head was ‘really hard.’  I blew off her attempt for attention and fled to the bathroom with J (see previous post) where I: first, had to deal with actually seeing my custard-face in the mirror; and second, had to rinse a good percentage of my entire head (hair included) in a foreign sink without making my mascara run.  We immediately fled the scene, but I did have to go to school the next day with strategically styled bangs to cover the physical scrapes and emotional scars.  Needless to say, the term ‘Donut Day’ has taken on a whole new meaning, and custard-filleds are no longer my favorite member of the donut family.”

Epilogue: No worries.  Shot put girl and I were friends again soon after.

So there it is.  My Most Embarrassing Moment.  Dang it! - now I’m going to have to think of a different story to tell at parties.

So tell me…what is your M*E*M?  And more importantly: Did it involve custard?

Today is Mardi Gras, which (and I sadly didn’t put this together until my early 20s) means “Fat Tuesday” in French.  It’s the “feast before the fast” - a time to live it up before the sober time of temperance known as Lent that begins on Ash Wednesday and ends on Easter Sunday.  This period before Lent is usually marked with huge street celebrations you’ve heard of, such as Mardi Gras in New Orleans or Carnaval in Brazil, the likes of which are undoubtedly defined by acts of debauchery.

Some older kids at my high school (which was located nowhere near New Orleans) liked to celebrate Fat Tuesday by giving each other Mardi Gras beads and then hanging them from their rear view mirrors as proof of their popularity to themselves for months to come.  I thought this whole charade was silly.  It seemed so copycat, so wannabe to me.  I have recently become aware of a tradition I wish I had known about during high school that blows the whole bead thing out of the water.

Pancake Day, or Pancake Tuesday, takes place on Shrove Tuesday (the same day as Fat Tuesday) in the UK, Ireland, Australia, and some parts of Canada.  As a way to use up all of their dairy, eggs, and fat (foods that were typically abstained from during Lent), original observers began making pancakes on the day before Ash Wednesday, and hence, Pancake Tuesday was born .  With so many pancakes flying about, it seemed only obvious to use the excess for such activities as pancake races and tossing games, in which participants presently range from housewives to vicars.  How had I never heard of this before?  Pancake Day is tops, no?

So this year, I suggest abandoning the beads that only remind you of where you most likely (and hopefully) AREN’T and throw your own pancake party with your family and/or friends tonight.  Admit it.  Breakfast for dinner has never seemed so cool.

Having a hard time imagining this foreign tradition?  Watch the clip above and (along with loving the narrator) enjoy watching clergymen race in their robes while flipping pancakes.  And no, this is not made up.

My oldest sister was our high school’s 1985 homecoming queen - a true teen queen of the 80s.  She and all of her shoulder padded friends were - and continue to be - complete Diet Cokeheads (that’s a Heathers reference).  It’s a total generational thing with them.  I enjoy a Diet Coke with a lime as much as anyone, but my true drink of choice is Dr. Pepper.  However, because I don’t like to drink my calories, I try to drink it’s diet counterpart when I go out (if available), and it’s absolutely the only type of soda I keep in the house.  (You’ll know I’ve given up when I allow caloried soda to occupy space in my fridge.  That’s waaaay too dangerous for me.)

Never tried DDP’s aspartame goodness?
Click here to try it for free.

One very windy morning a few weeks ago, I put my overflowing recycling bin out on the curb for collection.  About an hour later, I suddenly realized my stupidity and quickly peered out the window to see if any damage had been done.  How can I accurately relay the image I beheld?  There were roughly a hundred thousand Diet Dr. Pepper cans blanketing our entire street.  I may as well have just spray painted my name on everyone’s lawns.  My fingerprints were everywhere!  (Don’t worry.  My still pajama-clad self gathered up the cans before any riots began.)  Once the whole mess was rectified, my sole concern was that I only filled about half the bin that time.  Who knew that Diet Dr. Pepper cans were so aerodynamic?  Apparently, those missing cans were destined for bigger and better things on someone else’s street.

So that brings me to the ever-looming question: What’s this up-and-coming-generation’s beverage of choice?  Please feel free to let me know what’s your fave.  You’re going to tell me something like energy drinks or Sobes, right?  Yeah, I knew you guys were cooler than me.

Now here's a different take on Dr. Pepper. Hmmm...weird.