Double (Stuf) or Nothin'

The Health Food Tyrants have gone too far.

Have you seen a Double Stuf Oreo lately? I mean, have you actually taken the time to examine the ratio of mystery cream to bland cookie before stuffing it in your face?

There is no way Double Stuf are doubly-stuffed. They are barely single-stuffed.

Double Stuf? I don't think so.

A math teacher (with too much time on his hands) actually weighed and compared Double, Single and Thins in 2013 and – indeed – found that Double Stuf do not contain twice as much Stuf as Single Stuf. But that's not my point. My point is that Double Stuf don't contain as much Stuf as Double Stuf used to. I'd go so far as to say you have to eat double the Double Stuf to get half as much Stuf as Double Stuf used to have.

(BTW: Don't even get me started on “Thins” which look like someone whispered “stuf” from the other side of the factory as the stacks of cardboard cookie shapes were packaged.)

(While we're off the subject: Yes. I did walk five miles, uphill – both ways – through snow, while being chased by velociraptors to get to school.)

I did not buy Double Stuf Oreos because I was being health conscious. I did not buy Double Stuf Oreos thinking they were a low-calorie food. I did not buy a family-sized (Pfft! Family of pigmy mice, maybe!) package of Double Stuf Oreos, sneak them into the house under cover of darkness, hide them in the back of the cupboard behind the expired canned goods, then quietly open them at 6:30 a.m. after my morning workout while everyone else was sleeping, because I thought they were good for me.

No. That's what the bananas, which are conveniently located on the counter – splotchy brown and drawing fruit flies – are for. That's what the shriveled up apples in the crisper drawer are for. That's what the bag of mushy, liquifying, slightly grey and fuzzy . . . well, I'm not sure what it is/was . . in the veggie drawer is for.

You do not need a PhD in nutrition to know that Double Stuf Oreos (or any Oreos) are not a type of health food. Nothing that creamy and delicious, nothing that melts so delightfully on your tongue, leaving that slightly buttery, vaguely nauseating film in your mouth could be good for you. Without even looking at the package I could tell you the ingredients for that mysterious but crave-able filling are, most likely: sugar, sugar, fat, soylent green, and more sugar.

And I'm OK with that. In moderation. On occasion.

I bought this particular package of so-called “Double Stuf” cookies because I was feeling a little down and needed some comfort food. I needed to do a little emotional eating. I needed a chance to wallow in a bad food choice and then regret it and vow never to eat them again. Or until I was feeling blue again.

What was I sad about when I bought them? I have no idea. See? It worked.

Why am I sad now?

I'm out of cookies.

Fake It Till You Make It

I'm sitting in a coffee shop with my pen and paper, pastry and coffee, trying to look writerly. I'm in Iowa City, so I blend right in with all the other aspiring writers and students. I'm hoping this change of scenery and role-play will jump start my new/old career as a writer. Look the part, play the part, be the part.

Things I've learned so far: My view of the parking lot is not as inspiring as you might think. Although watching this dumbass try to shoe-horn a Suburban into a space for a compact car is pretty entertaining.

And off-task.

The incredible class I took at the UI Summer Writer's Workshop left me inspired and enthusiastic and thinking anything was possible. But since then other chores have taken over and my writing momentum has dwindled. I went from writing full scenes, to jotting notes and ideas, to... looking for my notebook. It's time to refocus on my new “job.” My dream.

Things I've learned so far: I should never assume I have a notebook in my “novel supply bag.” Luckily I did have a clipboard and paper so I don't have to write on 3x3 sticky-notes. But the clipboard makes me feel more like a health inspector than a writer. I must not look very official, though, because the cashier didn't try to bribe me with free coffee.

Still off-task.

The kids have gone back to school and it has finally hit me that I am well and truly unemployed, not just “between career opportunities” as I have taken to saying. There's still the part-part-part time secretary thing, and the full-time Mom/Wife thing (although they need me a little less), and the volunteer stuff. There's still not enough hours in the day (I should be secretary-ing right now).

Things I've learned so far: With free wi-fi and mobile data Facebook can be a distraction anywhere! Anytime!

Still off-task.

It seemed like such a good idea last spring when I decided to follow my dream to become a writer. People would ask me “what are you going to do if you're not teaching?” I answered confidently “I'm going to write!” And they'd give me that patient, bemused look you give a child who says “I'm going to be a space-cowboy-fireman when I grow up!” Then they'd politely change the subject.

Things I've learned so far: Even when the coffee shop is three-quarters empty, the waitstaff will give you dirty looks after a while. I wonder how many plain-black-coffee, serve-yourself refills you are really supposed to take?

Still off-task.

Now that school is back in session people are a little less... willing to humor me. Now when they ask “what are you doing if you're not teaching?” I answer a little less confidently “Ummm, writing?” And they wait a beat, then follow up with “But really. What are you going to do?” “I'm looking into things,” I mumble. My confidence was all a facade. That veneer is thinning, and my fears are starting to poke through.

Things I've learned so far: I CAN HAVE TOO MUCH CAFFEINE!

I like money. I like getting paid. I like spending money. I like having concrete answers to use on forms that ask you to list things like “Occupation,” and “Work Phone.” And “Yearly Income.”

Things I've learned so far: Autocorrect trumps spell check, and it drives me nuts! Although it did just change “pretending” to “ostensibly,” which sounds fancy. And not as desperate as “pretending.” Sort of brave, even.

Still off-task.

I've always wanted to write. I've always wanted to be a writer. In college most of my friends were science majors, planning for serious careers with serious titles, and suits and badges and office hours. I just wanted to write about what they were going to do and how they would do it.

Before the TV show “Will and Grace” made it trendy to have a gay friend, it was trendy to have a friend who was an English major (or philosophy major) so that you could tell your other friends “This is my English major friend, who will grow up to be unemployed and homeless. Then I will introduce them as my unemployed and homeless friend, and they will have my back when I volunteer to do community service work at the local soup kitchen. This is just more evidence that I am a responsible and forward thinking individual – besides the fact that I have chosen a career path that ensures an employable future.”

And I would turn to all my other English and journalism friends and I would say “These are my science major friends. They actually study. A lot. I can tell you about what they do and how they do it, but I can't do it myself. Someday they're going to have important, serious jobs. And I'll write about those, too.

But what I really want to do is write the stories and books that they will read when they get home from work. When they are tired and just want to escape from this serious world for a little while they'll turn to my work. I'll tell them about my hopes and dreams, and fears and crazy ideas. And maybe they'll laugh, or cry, or relax, or see things from a new perspective.

Just for a moment they will be off-task, and they'll enjoy it.

Things I've learned so far: I can't give up just yet. I'll fake it till I make it.

But with less coffee.

Master Iron Chef UnWrapped Kitchen Throwdown

The following is an actual, honest-to-goodness assignment that I am going to give my students tomorrow. By doing this I believe I am incorporating 20th Century Learning benchmarks, facilitated by technological interface practices, in a cross-curricular, hands-on learning environment that reaches out to marginalized students to better help them achieve their full potential. Or it's just a cheap ploy to entertain myself while creating a fun lesson plan with marginal learning outcomes but maximal blog-post-ability. Ish.

The Great

Convenience Mix

VS.

Homemade

SMACKDOWN

(AKA: Mrs. Salemink is Cleaning Out the Cupboard)

Why?

1. Foods & Nutrition 2 is wrapping up a unit on convenience foods, and Baking is learning about... well, baking. Duh. Really? Do I need a reason? Have I ever had a good reason for any assignment? There was that one lesson about that one thing... but other than that one.... We've done similar things before, but never on this scale. This... will... be... EPIC.
2. Mrs. Salemink has had 4 hours of sleep from 6:30 a.m. Saturday to 7:32 p.m. (oops, 8:14 p.m.) Sunday, and is not expecting to get to bed until at least 10 p.m. And she is really, really old. She is not able to go without sleep for this long any more, people. Give her a break.

3. The vast majority of you are probably going to be tired and cranky in class on Monday as well. The rest of you get to reap the benefits of our poor sleep-management skills.
4. We are having yet another “not normal” week of class scheduling, and I'm running low on creativity. Hard to believe, but true.
5. Because I'm the teacher and I said so. What are they going to do? Fire me?

The Assignment:

1. EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU (yes, YOU! BY YOUR OWNSELF. Without a partner.) will go online and find a HOMEMADE, COMPLETELY FROM SCRATCH RECIPE for one of the following cake/brownie/quickbreads from the provided list. You WILL (BY YOUR OWNSELF. Without a partner.) email me a link to said HOMEMADE, COMPLETELY FROM SCRATCH RECIPE by the end of the class period. *See Random Rules and Frequently Asked Questions section below.

The Smackdown:

After democratically selecting (you will vote, I will over-rule) 2 box mixes and their homemade recipe counterpart:

1. Each class will be divided into 4 kitchen groups. Two groups will prepare the box mixes. Two groups will prepare the homemade.
2. If you can't come to an agreement on who's doing what, I will randomly select you. Or we may do this again and switch roles. Depends on how much you annoy me.

Random Rules:

1. Box mix selection (and thus homemade recipe as well) will be first come, first served. In other words Foods 2 gets a better deal. Life is not fair. Get over it.
2. YOU WILL, EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU (yes, YOU! BY YOUR OWNSELF. Without a partner.) will go online and find a HOMEMADE, COMPLETELY FROM SCRATCH RECIPE BY THE END OF THE CLASS PERIOD. Or you will receive an “I.” Your grade point will crumble, you will never graduate high school, you will develop a severe case of acne, “bacne,” halitosis, pit-stank and athletes foot and you will wake up with the over-all funky body odor of the average, post-gym 7^th grader, for all of eternity. No amount of showers shall cleanse you. You shall become a pariah amongst your people. Look it up.
   You may also turn into a zombie. And not the fun kind. You will become the really icky, oozy kind that everyone can outrun. You will be locked in a cage where people will poke at you with sticks. They will make countless YouTube videos and SnapChat stories about you and you will never collect a cent of royalties or receive any “likes.”
   If you are lucky, you will spend the rest of your life living in a van, down by the river. By your self. Not even the other zombies – or stinky 7^th graders – will associate with you.
3. You will not whine.
4. YOU WILL DO ALL YOUR DISHES or you will receive an “I” and the consequences will be the same as #3 above.

Frequently Asked Questions:

1. Do we have to? Yes.
2. Why? Because I said so.
3. But, Mrs. Salaaaaameeeeeenk, I'm tired. So am I. And I'm older and crankier than you.
4. But... but... but... Nip it. Nip it! You can't see me, but I'm making the universal “nip it” sign with my hand as if I could grab your little pouty duck lips and hold them shut. With superglue. Or DuckTape. I'm not picky.
5. Quit rolling your eyes. That's not #TheBEARway.
6. How d... Because I'm psychic. Now get to work.

How I have never been named Teacher of the Year is completely beyond me.

Goin' to Home Ec in a Handbasket

A funny thing happened to me on the way to the Erma Bombeck Writer's Workshop 2014.

I became a Home Ec teacher.

Well, technically I'm a long-term substitute Family and Consumer Science Teacher. But when I teach it, it's Home Ec.

I guess it's not funny ha-ha, unless you're part of my immediate family or friends. Judging from their responses when I told them the news, the thought of me teaching youngsters how to cook and sew correctly and successfully is pee-your-pants funny.

And it's not funny ironic, because irony doesn't mean what anyone thinks it does. Then again, “a situation that is strange or funny because things happen in a way that seems to be the opposite of what you expected” (thank you Merriam-Webster) does pretty much sum things up. I certainly wouldn't describe myself as your typical “Becky Home-Ecky.” More of a “Becky's Home's Wreckied.”

It's more like funny in a way that makes you go “Hmmm, well, that settles it. The world as we know it is truly going to hell in a handbasket and I have front row seats.”

I myself believe it's just another one of those things that proves that God has a sense of humor, and I am the butt of the joke.

I was at a crossroads. I enjoyed my part-time job(s), but I was approaching (yes, damn it, approaching) middle-age with no a clear career path in sight. Whether we like it or not, many people – at least me – define themselves by their jobs and/or income earning potential. Although wife/mother/daughter is a more-than-full-time job with great benefits (usually), the earning potential is, shall we say, non-existent. Ditto with my current blogging initiative.

It was time for me to decide whether I wanted to write, or get off the pot and find a job that actually paid enough cash for me to buy those new shoes I wanted.

So I did what any rational, well-educated, independent, self-sufficient, Catholic-convert gal would do.

I prayed.

“Please God, send me a sign. Should I purse my life-long dream of becoming a writer, or settle for a life of toil and drudgery as a slave to the man?” (I wasn't at all biased.)

Then I received an email notifying me that registration for the Erma Bombeck Writer's Workshop had just opened.

So I applied.

And lo! As choirs of angels sang, I was bathed in a golden light and a confirmation email was delivered unto me: “Congratulations! You will be attending the EBWW in Dayton, Ohio, in April.” The world is your oyster, huzzah, huzzah! (OK, I might have imagined that last part).

Then I received another email.

Was I interested in a long-term, part-time substitute position teaching Family and Consumer Science at the local high school?

Really, God? Did I lisp? I said “sign,” singular. As in one clear, neon-arrow, you-are-here sign.

Now, considering I had just put the four-day workshop, and five-night hotel stay on my credit card – and that the combined monthly income from my two part-time jobs would cover about one tank of gas for the drive out there, it was a pretty tempting offer. Maybe God had a plan after all?

Tempting, even though I'm an English and Communications major, with a license to teach English and Journalism. Hmmm, back to that sign thing. Did you really think this over? Did I forget to sign my name on my prayer? I'm already working as a part-time bookkeeper... how much different could teaching Home Ec be?

A lot, as it turns out.

But, long-story short(ish), after spending nearly a month panicking, updating my substitute teaching license, and scouring the internet for lesson plans, I was teaching Home Ec, I mean Family and Consumer Science.

No. I mean Home Ec.

I realize “Family Consumer Science” is the politically correct term, chosen to more accurately depict the wide range of topics studied. However, given that “Economics” is “the social science that studies the behavior of individuals, households and organizations... when they manage or use scarce resources, which have alternative uses, to achieve desired ends” (thank you Wikipedia), I think that Home Ec pretty much sums up “Family Consumer Science,” and does so in fewer words.

And people know what you're talking about when you say Home Ec.

Use words you know. That's what I learned from being an English and Communications major.

Maybe they aren't so different after all. Maybe a sign is a sign, after all.

This Blog(ger) for Sale

I read another article today about how manufacturers are reaching out to “influential mommy bloggers.” This time Bloomberg News reports that Mattel was plying these IMBs with a brunch buffet in a “penthouse suite at Manhattan's Royalton Hotel,” complete with mimosas and bloody marys.

Hellooo.

What part of Sandwich MOM on Wry @ BLOGspot-dot-com do you people not get?

Just because I can't get my own family to do anything I tell them doesn't necessarily mean I am not influential. It's just that they can't be easily influenced. I like to think of them as independent thinkers.

According to this article Mattel was, basically, teaching these women how/why little boys like to play with cars because the Mattel representative said (get this) “Mom 'has never played with them.'” (meaning the cars, not the kids, I hope).

OK, so maybe I was a little overqualified to be in this test group. It would take a whooooole lot of mimosas and bloody mary's to get me to sit in a room full of women who never played with toy cars. Where did they find these women? How many rocks did they have to turn over to find even a single girl who didn't “understand why cars... and smashing and crashing are cool.”

On the other hand, if someone offered me bloody marys, mimosa, and brunch at a fancy-schmancy Manhattan hotel penthouse suite I'm pretty sure I could develop sudden onset amnesia. Hot Wheels? What are Hot Wheels?

Nope. Never heard of them.

Never played with them. Stepped on them. But never played with them.

Boy's toys are ucky.

Editors note: “Boy Toys” are another matter entirely, which brings me to my second gripe about this article: The accompanying photo showed some sweet, young, female thing (who really needed a bigger tank top) demonstrating a Hot Wheels track at the American International Toy Fair. If you really want to get Mom's attention, let a shirtless Channing Tatum hawk your wares. Of course, if you were smart enough to figure that out, you'd be smart enough to sign me up as one of your “influential mommy bloggers,” too.

But I digress.

My point is, I need to get me some of this product placement action.

I could do a fair and honest review of your product. Honest I could. And if an honest review isn't what you're looking for, well... we could still talk (I like my margaritas on the rocks – wink, wink).

I know my blogging schedule has been a bit... erratic, but really, I'm trapped in a vicious circle of your own making! If you would just slide some of those time saving (!), effort saving (!) and/or fun (!) miracle products my way, I wouldn't be spending so much time (!) and effort (!) on cooking/cleaning/entertaining/other chores and I would have more time to blog about your time saving (!), effort saving (!) and/or fun (!) miracle products.

It's a win-win situation.

I've even read about a couple blogs in which the blogger has Oprah-like giveaways of the products she has received and enjoyed (!) from the manufacturer. In my humble opinion, free giveaways are just a gimmick to buy (influence) your audience.

And I'm perfectly OK with that.

In fact, just to show how generous (influential) I can be I would like to promote a local business (I'm not opposed to receiving a few freebies, hint hint):

I'm willing to give away one free (isn't that the same as “give away”?) cupcake from Molly's Cupcakes in Iowa City to the first person who responds to this blog.

But hurry! Supplies are limited!

In fact... I think supplies are exhausted. But I could give you a slightly used Molly's Cupcake box.

Just give me a minute to wipe the frosting off the keyboard.

And if you are a representative of Molly's Cupcakes inquiring about product placement in this blog, think chocolate... and lots of it.