oatmeal cookie dough… yum.

Posted on 16 July 2018 by

Because I mentioned it in this post a few days ago, I thought I should share the recipe for my delicious oatmeal cookie dough ‘secret‘ treat. You’re welcome.

I don’t make this often but I’d like to. And being the selfish girl that I am, I have only ever made this when I’m home alone… because I wouldn’t want to share. I know… really mean. I may or may not have ever eaten this for breakfast. What? It’s oatmeal! I’ve even made it and eaten some, then hid the rest behind veggies in the fridge and snuck bites when no one was around. I know… I know…

My next experiment will be to make this, roll it into balls, chill it, dip in melted chocolate, chill again… and eat yummy chocolate covered cookie dough balls. I’m pretty sure I won’t be getting away with not sharing that…

• • •

Oatmeal Cookie Dough
For eating… not for cookies… seriously, don’t try to bake it… it won’t work!
(Serves four normal people… or one enthusiast. I usually aim for two servings, but sometimes I fail. So bad.)

¼ cup butter, softened
¼ cup white sugar
¼ cup brown sugar
2 tbsp milk
1 tsp vanilla
½ cup white flour
¾ cup of rolled oats
cinnamon, if desired

chocolate chips, raisins, etc. can be added but I like it ‘pure‘

1. Because raw flour can contain bacteria, ‘pasteurize’ it first: microwave for about 1 minute 15 seconds on high, stirring every 15-20 seconds. (I confess, I have proceeded without doing this and I’ve never gotten sick… but it’s best to be safe.)
2. Cream butter and sugars together. (I do all of the mixing with a fork.)
3. Add milk and vanilla to creamed mixture; combine well.
4. Add flour in two parts; combine until smooth.
5. Add oats in three parts; mix until well integrated.

Yum.

I think I like it even better after it’s been chilled… but I am not usually that patient.

I would love to give credit to the original source of this recipe but I can’t find it… and I didn’t make a note of it. I also don’t have a picture. I have never even thought to snap a photo before it’s gone… sorry!

• • •

Let me know your thoughts if you try this. I know most people like chocolate chip cookie dough, and that’s good, too, but this is, in my opinion, far superior.

 

©2018 what sandra thinks

         

Advertisements
Posted in food, life, recipe, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 7 Comments

awarded.

Posted on 13 July 2018 by

award.

No, I did not win an Oscar. And awards like these aren’t really a matter of ‘winning,’ but rather recognition. And I appreciate that Mel chose me, among other wonderful bloggers. Mel has fiction in her head and she writes it. She loves music. And I love most of what she loves. [Did that come out wrong? It wasn’t meant to be mean. I’m just very picky and a bit bitchy about what music I love.] And she is just an all around lovely person. I’m glad she finds me charming enough to call me her friend.

This is an award I’ve received several times in the past. I think it was originally intended to be an award for new bloggers, which I am not. But I guess I’m new to someone.

I don’t usually participate in these things but I think Mel might hurt me if I don’t do this. So… I’m just going to do the first few things on the rules list. I guess that gives me about a D on this assignment. First time I’ve ever gotten a failing grade.

The rules for the 2018 award are as follows:

  1. Thank the person who nominated you
  2. Display the award on your post
  3. Write a small post about what makes you passionate about blogging
  4. Provide 10 random facts about yourself
  5. Answer the questions given to you
  6. Nominate 5-11 other blogs for this award
  7. Ask them creative and unique questions of your own
  8. List the rules and inform your nominees of the award (partial credit)

What makes me passionate about blogging…
Well… lately, nothing.

Ten random things you’ll probably wish you didn’t know about me (and I bet you already know some of them if you’ve been here a while… I don’t think I can come up with ten new things)…

  1. I already gave you one thing—I’ve never received a failing grade. (Is that cheating? Too bad.)
  2. I am half Italian and half Ukrainian… neither of my parents were born in the US. (Insert snarky comment here about hoping I don’t get kicked out of the country…)
  3. My family history on my father’s side strongly suggests that my great great great grandfather had some involvement with the Italian mafia. There was also mention of ‘secret police‘ so maybe he was a good guy.
  4. I think my favorite television show ever was Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
  5. I am in a constant state of worry.anxiety girl.
  6. My average bedtime is 2 in the morning.
  7. I am afraid of bugs and various flying creatures.
  8. Oatmeal cookie dough is my secret treat. Don’t tell anyone. [And if you want the recipe for a small batch of edible oatmeal cookie dough, let me know.]
  9. The only way I can currently handle U.S. national news is to get that news from Stephen Colbert and Seth Meyers.
  10. I hate beer, cauliflower, water chestnuts, whipped cream, coconut, and marshmallows.

 

Here are Mel’s questions… some of which I had a lot of trouble answering. (I’m not sure what that says about me but I’m pretty sure it isn’t good)…

1. What is your legacy? Define it.
I have no idea how to answer this question. The dictionary definition of legacy is all about what I will leave behind when I’m gone… what is handed down from the past. My past? This is a depressing question. I don’t know the answer… but I’ll try: Poor life choices and whatever coffee I haven’t consumed at the time of my demise. 

2. To curse or not to curse in your daily life/vernacular and why/why not?
Hmm… well… I curse all the time. There is no substitution that works for me. Sometimes, you just need the right word, and if that happens to be a curse word, so be it. And fuck, in all its forms, is my favorite word. [I do, however, try to be cautious depending on who is around me.]

3. How would you define respect?
Something my temperamental, moody daughter does not give me enough of lately.

4. What does it mean to you when someone says “I love ya” – casually?
I never know how to take that, to be honest. If it’s ‘casually’, then is it just something that some people say without deep emotions attached to it? And I’m sometimes uncomfortable saying it… probably because I’m not sure how to take it when I hear it. Although it’s not the same as ‘I love you’, I don’t throw those words around lightly… with the ‘you’ or the ‘ya’. When I was younger, I think I used the word ‘love’ too quickly and too easily. It has made me far more cautious… selective, maybe… with when I use it now. Maybe this makes me sound like a bitch…

5. When you write, how often do you stare out into the void before actually finishing that project?
Lately, a few days… or more. And that’s without even considering how many unfinished pieces I have.

6. What is your favorite food, you can’t live without and why?
Coffee… does that count? No… that’s a beverage. Cheeseburger. Or cheesecake. I love food. This is a difficult question.

7. What would be your biggest dream come true?
To wake up one day with no back pain, no stress, no anxiety or depression, more money than I will ever need, and a super-hot (to me) guy madly in love with me and I with him.

8. Your family crest, what would I see on it?
Some sort of symbol that embodies bad luck. A dark cloud? Hey… look what day it is…!

9. If the world were ending in seven days, how would you spend those days and with whom?
I was going to say I’d spend those days engaging in adult activities with the man of my dreams (would have to find him first), but I will give you a more ‘realistic’ answer…
I would do whatever my kids wanted to do so the last thing I’d see would be them happy. This would likely involve running away from here. And I’d like Mom, my family to be there, too.

10. What inspires the passionate you?
Chris Hemsworth. (Or the man I created in my head who inspires all of my romance stories.) I’m just kidding. No… I’m not.

Seriously. How can I not be inspired?

In conclusion, I am done now. Have a nice day… even if it is Friday the 13th. Hell, if every other day sucks for me, maybe this will be the one good day… riiiight. I’m funny.

 

©2018 what sandra thinks

         

Posted in award, blogging, writing | Tagged , , , | 28 Comments

replaced.

Posted on 11 July 2018 by

Maybe it’s irrational, but I have this feeling… this fear… that I have been replaced.

I don’t think I’m truly special to anyone.

I used to think I was. I was probably just a fool.

Every bond seems to be breaking… or broken.

It’s probably just me… being me.

Like I said… irrational.

But I miss having something special… love, friendship… something. With someone.

I crave it. I think I need it.

But I don’t have it.

Maybe I can’t have it.

I’m easily replaced.

 

[Poem or rambling thoughts? I don’t know… you decide.]

[I have no idea what the image above has to do with this post but it looks like I felt when I wrote this.]

©2018 what sandra thinks

         

Posted in anxiety, life, writing | Tagged , , , , | 31 Comments

hopes, fears, and guilt.

Posted on 9 July 2018 by

For some reason… oh, you know, my whole life… and just aging in general, I’ve been feeling more lost than usual since my birthday last month.

But it’s all me.

It’s not you… it’s me. [Yeah, I really did just type that. Sorry.] But don’t worry. I’m not breaking up with you.

But you should know this…

• • •

Sometimes I have these feelings… good ones… positive ones. I’m beautiful. I’m a good writer… really good. [Sometimes I read my old stuff and think, “Wow! I wrote that?!”] I’m smart. I’m nice, not pompous or arrogant (two things I deeply hate). I have talent. I’m funny. People actually like me. [Weirdos.] Sometimes… I have those feelings… and I truly believe them. [But it still feels really weird saying them.]

Sometimes, I almost have a feeling of… confidence. I know. Me. It’s true. It makes me think I will be able to write again. Anything—poetry, stories, life. It makes me think I can make it.

I just… don’t know how to hold onto it… that feeling. It comes randomly for short bursts… too short… and then it goes. And when it goes… it goes. But my god, it feels amazing when those moments happen. But they are rare. Is that how ‘normal‘, ‘happy‘ people feel all the time? That must be fucking awesome. God, I want desperately to hold onto that feeling.

It’s just… the balance… it’s totally off… totally skewed.

• • •

I feel guilty when I’m down. I feel guilty when people are nice to me. I feel guilty because I am not all smiles and sunshine. If I have support and love from you, I should be good. I shouldn’t be down. I feel guilty.

I worry all the time that people are going to give up on me (or have already given up on me) because I never seem to be better.

But… does it not mean I’m better if I have those moments I described above?

This is not an all-or-nothing situation.

I remember the positive, wonderful, encouraging, kind things you beautiful people say to me… and about me. I repeat those things to myself every day. Yes, most of the time I struggle to believe them. But without you, I don’t know that I’d even be able to try.

Hell, you may have even made me have good thoughts about myself that originated in my own head. That’s new.

You help me. You probably don’t believe me because I’m not all good and happy and shit. And I’m sorry for that. But you help me.

• • •

My life is like a really bad dark comedy. I know it sounds like I’m exaggerating, but if you’ve known me for a while, you know I’m not. It’s a train wreck. I’m jinxed. The big issues don’t get better… they get worse. And new bad things seem to come up all the damn time.

I need a win. A big one. And no one can make that happen. [Not even me, despite what you’re about to say right now. Even if the reason I can’t make it happen is because I don’t believe I can, that changes nothing. I still can’t make it happen. The reason is irrelevant.]

I just don’t consistently have the capability to build myself up. I need someone else to do it. I need help. I need the support and the kind words. I struggle to give that to myself. I know that’s incredibly pathetic… and humiliating to admit, but it’s the truth.

And it seems that the truth, however upsetting, is all I can write at the moment…

 

©2018 what sandra thinks

         

[image: no copyright | public domain | not my artwork (I do not paint)]

Posted in anxiety, depression, life, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 42 Comments

doppelgänger.

Posted on 6 July 2018 by

A few days ago we went out to do some not-shopping. You know… looking around at things you might want but not actually buying anything.

I was checking out some sandals… trying some on. Apparently somewhere in my brain, there is a voice telling me that my seven existing (old) pairs of sandals aren’t enough.

But this post has nothing to do with my footwear.

At one point, I ducked into an aisle to place the sandals (that I was determined not to buy) back on the shelf. When I stood, I saw Hozier.

I am, obviously, not serious. (I think.) But this guy looked *just* like him… maybe slightly younger. He even had the man-bun.

I wanted to ask him if he would take a picture with me so I could tell everyone I met Hozier. But I couldn’t do it. I mean, come on… that would have just been creepy. He might have had me arrested. I thought about secretly taking a picture just of him… but I didn’t think I could do that without being noticed. So… you’ll just have to take my word for it.

Next I’ll be looking for my local Chris Hemsworth doppelgänger. I might be willing to get arrested for him.

• • • • •

 

©2018 what sandra thinks (not the images or the video, obviously…)

         

Posted in humor, life, music, writing | Tagged , , , , , | 53 Comments

uncertain.

Posted on 5 July 2018 by

I’ve seen a lot of talk lately about blogging breaks. Maybe it’s the time of year… maybe it’s just coincidence. I don’t know… and it doesn’t matter. But I do have a point, I promise.

I have been trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me. In relation to blogging, I mean. In relation to everything else… well, that will always be a mystery… that not even professionals can explain.

Anyway…
I started to sort through my blogging issue through a few comments I wrote on other blogs. [I’m sorry if you happened across those comments and find this post a bit repetitious…]

Okay. Here we go.

I haven’t been around much. You may have noticed. Or not. I didn’t plan to take a break. It just kind of happened. But… it didn’t really happen… because I haven’t really been on a break. [I feel like I’m having a Rachel-Ross argument with myself over whether or not I was on a break.] I didn’t consciously decide to stop posting and I haven’t completely disappeared. I’m still lurking about. I just have nothing to say because I am the most boring person on earth. And possibly the most unpleasant.

I’m having a lot of trouble writing (it’s been fucking months… miserable), and when I do, I hate what I write. I hate the very words I’m typing right now. When I come to read everyone else’s blogs, I feel like a failure because everyone else can write but I can’t. It upsets me far more than it should. It’s painful and I often cry. But I don’t want to abandon my friends. And I don’t want to be alone. If I’m not around here with you guys, I’m sad… and lonely. It’s painful and I often cry. So being here is hurting me. And not being here is hurting me.

I don’t know where to be… or what to do.

I have unintentionally arrived at a place where I’m posting less… and being around less in general. Maybe that’s my new ‘routine’… but again, it feels both better and worse.

When the painful boredom strikes, I want to be here more. But it’s not working because when I am here, I feel inept… inadequate… incompetent. But when I’m not here, I feel alone… lonely… useless. Nowhere is the right place for me.

No… I take that back. There is a right place for me. It’s just not real. It’s a place of escape… a place where I can ignore my whole life and pretend I’m someone else.

The closest I’ve come to that place recently was a visit with my kids to my mom’s for a couple of days. I pretended my life wasn’t a total disaster. I pretended I was on vacation (as if I could afford one… what a joke). I spent money I don’t have. I ate carbs I don’t need. And this is horrible, I know, but my husband wasn’t with us and I pretended he didn’t exist.

I wasn’t bored… I was living, however briefly, in circumstances different from my usual reality. Because, I guess, I wasn’t living in reality. There was a lot of pretending… a lot of ignoring… a lot of denial.

So… in conclusion, I don’t know anything… I only feel good in my imagination… and I don’t know where to go from here.

 

©2018 what sandra thinks

         

Posted in anxiety, blogging, depression, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 55 Comments

hose fail.

Posted on 30 June 2018 by

Every day I spend time trying to catch up on everyone’s blogs. I’m failing and I feel the need to apologize. I’m doing the best I can. I’m sorry. You’d think with my incredibly depressing boredom, keeping up would be easy. But it’s kind of not. As crazy as this sounds, my kids’ boredom takes up a lot of my time even though a lot of my time is still boredom. Got that? Yeah, me neither.

I got some money for my birthday. It’s supposed to be for me. Of course, I can’t bring myself to spend it on me. I can’t justify a pedicure no matter how much I want one. [No… I did it myself no matter how much it hurt my back… I did a good job, though.] I can barely justify having my hair done but that has always remained the one thing I do for myself. So I’m doing it.

What has happened with this money is practical crap… and, of course, stuff for the kids. And not quite ‘good stuff‘ either. Yesterday, I took them to a really cute, fancy (read: grossly overpriced) candy shop and let them each spend up to ten dollars. Yes. Ten dollars worth of candy. Although since overpriced, it really wasn’t that much. Far less than they bring home every Halloween. And they haven’t even eaten all of it yet. I do not feel like a particularly good or responsible parent for letting them do this whole candy thing. But it was raining and before we did that… well, it was boring as fuck.

Today was not rainy. Instead, it was about 90°F and really fucking sticky. It’s going to be like that for the next five days. So today, we threw water balloons at each other… and I attacked them with the hose. [Not as bad as it sounds… I let them get me, too.]

And that brings me to my hose problem. [Shut up.]

Why the hell is this thing marketed as a helpful product?

Granted, I am cheap so there’s that. But still. It should at least be kind of helpful, shouldn’t it? I didn’t expect it to be easy, but I didn’t expect it to be ridiculously difficult either. There’s a reason I sat in my Adirondack chair and sprayed the kids. I was exhausted from unrolling the hose from this thing (not to mention the back pain). I couldn’t even pull it out easily. [Shut up.] I thought at least unrolling wouldn’t be terrible. Wrong.

Fast forward to after excessive water usage. Time to roll this hose up. Nice convenient handle on the side… just reel it in. Um… no. I think I made about a quarter turn before I couldn’t move the fucking thing any further. Seriously… what the hell? It is nearly impossible to roll up the hose. After about ten minutes, during which I wound up maybe fifteen feet of hose, I stopped. Fuck it! Sorry, husband. You’re going to have to roll it up when you get home. Even though it’s still in the 80s and sticky as fuck.

At least my eight-function sprayer is awesome. Especially that ‘jet‘ setting.

 

• • •
[By the way… I don’t know if I’m ‘back’ to posting. Don’t get excited. You know, if you ever have gotten excited to read my posts… which is a ridiculous assumption on my part. Maybe I’ll have something to say after the weekend… we’re going to Mom’s… where there is a pool. A big one.]

©2018 what sandra thinks

         

Posted in blogging, life, parenting, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 40 Comments

out of sight.

Posted on 27 June 2018 by

numb.

Out of mind?

I miss having friends. 

I miss being part of something. 

I miss writing.

I miss good moods and good days.

I miss ideas and inspiration.

I miss drive and purpose.

I miss being loved.

I miss when I mattered.

I miss being special… to anyone.

I miss hope.

I miss everything I wish I had.

I miss things I once had.

I miss things I’ll never have.

•

I feel more alone… more abandoned… than ever. Maybe I brought it on myself. Maybe no one cares because I don’t care. But that can’t be right. If I truly didn’t care, I wouldn’t be writing this. Probably.

 

©2018 what sandra thinks

         

Posted in depression, life, writing | Tagged , , , , , | 54 Comments