Foreboding Abound in BTVS

I am an epic Buffy Fan Girl. The show was always a favorite and has some of the most incredible writing ever. I'm in the middle of a binge. Not my first and won't be my last.

However, this binge got me thinking about the awesome foreboding in the show. The little hints dropped, minutes, episodes and even seasons ahead of something really cool to come.

I put together a collection of memes to illustrate some of my favorite moments of foreboding. Listen, uber-fans, don't attack me for missing a whole bunch. I know that I have. I know, alright!!! I hope to make additional posts some other time. I have other things to do, okay!?!?

I hope you enjoy my tiny contribution to the already extensive world of Buff-stuff on the interwebs.

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This is one of the coolest things about the show in my humble opinion. In the Season 4 episode "Amends", we are introduced to "The First" and his peeps, "The Bringers". 

We learn nothing else about "The First" until Season 7. Yes folks. Hint dropped in Season 4 and picked up again THREE. SEASONS. LATER. Fantastic! 

The First is the Big Bad that leads us to the epic series finale.

Why I Don't Lie About My Age...

Age is just a number, right?  Then why do women lie about their age. I am constantly joking about turning 29 again but, in reality, I don't care much.

I love my birthday!  How many days a year are all about you?  For me it's just this one and Mother's day and Mother's day I gladly share with my mom and the various other special "moms" in my life.

My birthday is all me, baby.  I buy myself clothes.  I bake myself EPIC cupcakes.  People say "You shouldn't have to bake your own cupcakes."  It's not sad.  I want to.  It's fun.  I always try to come up with some crazy delicious flavor I've never tried before.

This year it was Vanilla Orange Cupcakes with Chocolate Ganache Filling, Cocoa Orange Buttercream and Orange Curaçao Syrup! Super yummy.  I already had one for breakfast and I plan to have one this afternoon.   Hell, it's my birthday!  I'll eat cupcakes all day if I want!

I don't lie about my age. I know you've all heard this before but age is just a number.  All that matters is how old you feel.

• When I draw and color with my son, I'm 7 years old.
• When I play dolls with my daughter, I'm 8.
• When I look at my kids' baby pictures, I'm back in my early 30s when they were tiny.
• When I give my brother advice, or ask him to give me some, we're back in the Bronx sharing a room.
• When I recently phoned my childhood friend while she was in the hospital, I was instantly transported back to 8th grade when I talked to her on the phone while she was in the hospital back then.
• When I go out drinking with my friends (rarely, but it happens), I'm 27. Twenty-seven, by the way, is the perfect age for this activity because that means I am of legal drinking age but smart enough to know how not to make myself sick.
• When I hear about my daughter getting picked on in school, I feel like going to school and giving the little brat a swirly, which would make me about 12 years old or so.  I'll try to refrain from doing that.

Admittedly, sometimes I feel older than I actually am.

• When I had a few minor surgeries.
• When a doctor visit results in "Yeah, we're going to want to check that out."
• When my muscles are achy from "over-exerting myself" which is something old people say after they've done any sort of physical activity.
• When I say things like "when I was your age".

But mostly I feel younger than my 39 years, and that's what really matters.  I'll never lie about my age.

Of course, if someone ever mistakes me for older than I am,  I'll lose it and go into a crazy, chocolate and wine fueled depression spiral but that's to be expected.

I'll enjoy my birthday, and you should all enjoy yours when it's your turn!

One Sweet Leads To Another

Before I begin, I should let you know that there are no recipes in this post. There will be pictures and descriptions of lovely treats and a lot of talk about why I make 'em but if you are looking for recipes... read no further.  Not that I don't want to share - just not what this one is about.

I love to bake.  I love to make cookies, cupcakes, candy, etc. I don't go in for all the fancy schmancy details that make for the beautiful pastries you see on the Food Network.  I lack the patience and fine motor skills for that.  When I try it, I usually end up with a barely passable, but still exceedingly delicious version of what the pros deliver.

However, that doesn't keep me from making all manner of sweets.  I'm not one for false modesty and they are usually pretty fantastic. I am also the first to criticize if they are not.  But usually, if I'm making a cupcake, I want it to be epic. For example, my latest endeavor was a cookie dough cupcake that had a chocolate chip cookie base, chocolate ganache filling, buttery chocolate chip cake, a thin layer of ganache icing and a PILE of cookie dough frosting made with Biscoff spread. Yeah.  There was a LOT going on there and it was all good!

I have found, particularly this time of year, my treat making gets out of control. It's a bit because it's winter time.  It's a bit because of the holidays. It's a bit because we do a lot of entertaining  It's a bit because I have a crazy sweet tooth but it's a lot because one thing leads to another.

For example. We had a party in early December for which I made shots of Cherry Mousse in Chocolate Cups. To make cherry mousse I needed confectioners sugar and unflavored gelatin among other things.  Weeks passed, holiday baking/candy making ensued and a lot of cookies, fudge and other assorted tasties were churned out. Festive containers filled the kitchen. There was nothing else I needed to do in preparation for the holidays. NOTHING!

Well, except, I had that pesky unflavored gelatin and confectioner's sugar in the house just sitting in the cabinet doing nothing. Seemed an awful waste. Those ingredients were calling my name.

"JT!  We are confectioner's sugar and gelatin!  Alone, we are two simple ingredients but TOGETHER, we can be so much more! A little of this and a little of that and you've got MARSHMALLOWS!  C'mon!  Give us a try! You KNOW you've always wanted to make marshmallows. You'd could have us in the pan in no time!"

And then there were Marshmallows.  And they were awesome!

Side bar:  If you want to amaze and astound your family and friends, make marshmallows. As long as you know how to read a candy thermometer, they are a cinch.  A sticky messy cinch but a cinch nonetheless and I had dozens of people say "I didn't know you could MAKE marshmallows!" and "These are just like marshmallows but BETTER."

A week or so later, I was poking around on the evil time-sucker known as Pinterest and I was reminded that I had wanted to try 3 ingredient Nutella cookies. Again, the holidays had yet to happen.  There was no shortage of goodies in the house. There was NOTHING I needed to do. But again, those three ingredients were in the cupboard whispering to me.

"So simple.  Nutella, flour and egg.  A quick whizz in the mixer and 8 short minutes in the oven.  Couldn't be easier!"

A half hour later, there were Nutella cookies. They were super easy too. (No pic of the Nutella cookies at this point because this was not their final destiny.. read on for the rest of their story.)

As I mentioned earlier, I'm not good with the fine details of cookies and cakes that are supposed to make them look extra pretty. I prefer adjectives like "rustic" and "hand-crafted". But I decided to try my hand at these cutie-pie peanut butter reindeer cookies.

They tasted great but the assembly sucked. I had to work so quickly while they were hot and the antlers didn't stay on for sh*t.  Also, I underestimated how many chocolate covered pretzels I needed and ended up making "Max" (from the Grinch) cookies.  I'm often asked why I don't do this professionally.  This is one of the reasons why. I don't do well planning this type of stuff out and nobody would be pleased to pay for my improvisations.

Max (The Grinch) Cookies.  The result of my poor ingredient estimations.

If you are familiar with the expression "You eat with your eyes." you may be able to guess that these weren't the most popular item on the dessert table. By the time Christmas rolled around most of these guys had one or less antlers and little smudges of chocolate all over them.  They looked like they'd been rolled down a muddy hill.  I had a lot of delicious but mutilated peanut butter reindeer left after Christmas so I heard the call of ingredients again.

"Here we are in the cupboard.  Just a handy dandy bag of peanut butter chips.  Just melt us up, rip off their eyes, nose and whatever antlers remain and drop those little deer in a scalding hot pool of delicious peanut butter coating!"

Reading this over, I am growing concerned for my mental well-being. Apparently, food talks to me and tells me to hurt innocent cookies.

A normal person would've just thrown out the leftover reindeer-fail. Christmas was over. I didn't need to make more cookies.  But I am far from normal.  Half hour later, I had these.

Yes.  These were very delicious.

My husband is the first person to yell at me for making him fat.  He can walk away from the candies but has no will-power for cookies or cupcakes. They are usually in the house for a day or two before he says "Get these the hell out of here!". Then I bring them to work to the delight/chagrin of my co-workers.  Alas, at this time we were on holiday break so these babies weren't going anywhere.  My husband ate them and said, "Those peanut butter cookies are awesome. You should coat the Nutella cookies in Nutella coating."

"What?!?!   Is that a challenge!??!  Are you insulting the existing cookies?!?! How dare you, sir!  I'll show you!"

Ta-da!  Nutella Dipped Cookies!

Nutella Dipped Cookies

As if that weren't enough, I found myself with some leftover coating.  I certainly couldn't let that go to waste.  Could I?

I glanced at the counter that was still laden with Peanut Butter Pretzel Fudge, Chocolate Caramel Pretzel Rods, Oreo Bark, Chocolate Truffles, Chocolate Crackle Cookies, Pistachio Brittle, Hand-Cut Marshmallows, Peanut Butter Coated Cookies and now, Nutella Dipped Cookies.  I believe the counter may have been buckling under the weight, much like the floor beneath my families' feet will be if we keep eating like this. Yes, I glanced at that abundance, then glanced at the garbage pail that I could so easily scrape the leftover coating into... and proceeded to make Nutella Fudge.

Nutella Fudge

This madness has to end. Seriously!  Is there a 12-step program for this? Over-bakers Anonymous?

Anyone who visits us or gets a visit from us in the next two weeks is going to be going to get a care package. January 1st and resolutions are looming. So, if this post made you hungry, and before the diet starts, invite me over!

Hell-R-Us

I can't believe I've made it this far into my career as a mommy without blogging about Toys-R-Us or "Hell-R-Us" as I dubbed it many moons ago.

It's not all that bad.  At least I don't think so.  A toy store can't be inherently evil, can it? If it hasn't been done already somebody could make a boatload of a cash with that horror movie plot.  I expect residuals.

Anyway, I really have never been able to put my finger on why I hate going there.  Maybe it's because, as a toy store, and the stuff my dreams were made of when I was a kid, it should be a uniquely magical experience every time I step through the front doors.  It should smell like cotton candy.  The floors should shine like glitter and I should hear angels singing on high. I guess, on some level, I resent that it's not anything like that. Maybe it's because it's just not as fun as it should be. Maybe it's because I'm ultimately selfish and I'm when I am there, I'm not shopping for myself.

But honestly, I don't think it's any of those things.

I think it's that I pride myself on being an efficient and effective shopper and Hell-R-Us is just a huge TIME SUCK.  I walk in there with a purpose and either walk out 3 hours later empty-handed or having spent $3,000 when I was planning to buy batteries.  Somehow I lose time and not in the good "I had waaaay too much fun last night" way.

I also think it's that the service isn't great. It's not exactly bad, just not great. There are many little things that simply don't add up to spectacular customer service. I went in earlier today to return a gift with a gift receipt. The young lady behind the counter told me to go find the replacement and come back. To make a long story short, the gift reciept wasn't for that item and the item wasn't even purchased there.  Not her fault.  Either it was totally my fault for mixing up receipts or the person who gave us the gift gave us the wrong receipt  but either way, she could've saved me endless wandering and searching if she'd simply checked the item when I walked in the door. 

Everyone is always eager to help me when I'm in there, which is wonderful. However, none of the employees seems to know much more about the store or any of the products therein than I do.  This is what happened today:

• Eager Employee: "Hello, miss can I help you?"
• Me: "Yes, please.  I'm looking for Thunder Tumblers."
• Eager Employee: "Oh, sure! I've actually never heard of them but I'd be happy to wander the aisles aimlessly with you and search.  Also, I've never used a computer so I couldn't possibly check to see if we have now or ever carried such a product."  (I am paraphrasing but you get the gist.)

That's pretty much how all of my interactions with Hell-R-Us employees seem to go.  Here is one from last year.

• Me: "Can you help me?  I'm looking for Lite Sprites."
• Eager Employee: "Oh, do you mean Light Bright?"
• Me: "No.  I used to have a Light Bright when I was a kid.  Not Light Bright.  Lite Sprites.  They are light up fairy dolls."
• Eager Employee: "Yeah.  No.  I've never heard of them.  I don't think we carry them."
• Me: "You do.  I checked the website.  I just can't find them in the store."
• Eager Employee: "Ok, hang on." (picks up the phone to call someone)
  "Hi.  I have a customer here looking for Lite Sprites... no, not Light Bright... Lite Sprites... uh-huh... ok." (hangs up)
  "She says they are by the bikes."
• Me: "I don't think that is right.  They aren't a bike accessory."
• Eager Employee:  "Yeah, I know, weird.  Let's go look by the bikes."

I won't bore you with the details but this went on like this for what felt like about 11 hours.  I don't remember if I bought any Lite Sprites, or Light Brights, or Bike Lights for that matter. I think I blacked out again.

So, we can agree that although the effort is there, the customer service is missing something.  (Yes. By reading I assume that you are in agreement and don't care to know otherwise.) I can't put my finger on what is missing. Is it knowledge? Is it forethought? Is it training?  What ever it is, something needs tweaking for sure. I certainly don't think I'd be any better at it.  It's tough to be an expert when there are LITERALLY a gazillion products to know. Which brings me to the next thing that makes the whole Hell-R-Us experience less-than magical for me.

It's the store layout.  There are, in fact, a gazillion products in there.  Don't argue. I counted. When I go there, I never know where to find anything.  If I'm looking for a toy from the movie "Cars," is it in the Disney section, the section with Cars or with the Fisher Price toys because that's who makes it? What if (shudder) it is an OUTDOOR Cars toy? Then where, I ask you, WHERE? One finds themselves zig-zagging all over the store. I'm usually on my lunch hour, therefore pressed-for-time, hungry and wearing heels. This makes me cranky. I could ask someone where to find said toy, but, as I've already illustrated, the employees would be eagerly wandering all over the place with me.  I don't need that kind of help.  I can wander aimlessly all by myself.  I'm quite good at it.

Plus it's hot as balls in there for no apparent reason.  Keeping the toys warm, I guess.

So, why go there?  Sometimes it's because there's a better price but, for me, that is rarely the reason. I'd rather pay a bit more online and save myself the aggravation.  Half the time the "sale" at Hell-R-Us is never what I expect it to be and I end up spending more anyway.

Sometimes going there is unavoidable.  My kids receive Gift Cards from people. Or gifts that need to be exchanged.  Stupid Geoffrey the Giraffe sends them a $3 Gift Card for their birthday. I tell my kids I'll pay them twice that as long as I don't have to go there and try to find a toy for $3 or less.  I hate that giraffe.  Spelling Geoffrey with a "G" is a douchey thing to do anyway - and if your name is Geoffrey with a "G, I'm sorry.  Not sorry I wrote it but sorry your parents suck.

Finally, sometimes, Hell-R-Us is simply the only game in town.  Amazon has an amazing selection and super-fast shipping but sometimes they don't have that very specific accessory or action figure for your child's collection and when it comes to my kids, I will endure Hell or Hell-R-Us, as the case may be, to see them smile.

Mortality

"Mortality".  Wow.  Funny title, right?  Not really.  I'm going to try to make light of a semi-serious subject but I'm feeling somber and am moderately inebriated so this post may end up in the trash.

I am having surgery next week. It's not elective or anything.  If it was, at least I'd have a flat tummy or perky boobs to look forward to.  It is totally minor and not a big deal but I'm still kind of freaking out.  It's weird for me because I'm a "tough cookie", as they say.  Who the hell came up with that anyway?   I've never had a tough cookie in my life. Stale, maybe, but tough, never.

As I was saying, it's weird for me to feel scared about this. It is so NOT a big deal. Many people have been through so much worse that it is not even funny. But, the thing is, I've never been in the hospital to do more than have my kids and going in for that is wonderful, despite the bloodbath and agony, that is. When you are going in for that, you have many things to look forward too, such as 1.) not being pregnant any more  2.) cute little pink babies  3.)  not being a ginormous bloated whale anymore, etc. It's like going in for new boobs.  There's a light at the end of the tunnel.

I guess there's a light this time too. I get to not have something wrong with me anymore.  Yippee!  Some how it is not as much of a motivator as perky boobs or pink babies but it's something and, regardless, it's necessary.

I've never been under anestesia before. I hear good things and, frankly, I could use the rest.  However, there's that little nagging voice in the back of my stupid head saying "you know some people die, right?"  Shut up! Logically, I know that the statistics are teeny tiny and that most of those people have other health issues causing complications but, still, the voice remains. I don't think I'd care so much about not waking up if I didn't have two little people who are expecting me to come home from the hospital. When I think about that,  I realize that moms are a twisted breed. Do we really think so little of ourselves that our only reason for living is those little snot factories that can't put their underwear on properly without our assistance? Yes. Yes we do.

The other thing bugging me is that my ability to carry a child will be affected. That shouldn't bother me. I'm done having babies. My husband is very much in agreement that we are done having babies.  When I told him my concerns, he immediately asked if I planned to remarry. I told him I wanted to keep my options open.  That didn't go over too well. Of course, I'm kidding but I always thought that my ability to have kids would go the natural way of things.  Again, I am well aware that I am dually blessed with two beautiful children and that there are so many people that aren't as lucky as I am but there's that nagging voice again.  I hate that voice.  That voice is really annoying.

My point, if I even have one, is that this little stupid surgery has caused me to confront my own mortality and it sucks.  I much prefer living in la la land where everything is good and I think I'm going to live forever.  I still plan to live forever.  I am going to silence that stupid little voice or die trying.  Ha!   But, if by some million to one chance, I don't wake up from the anestesia, please take pity on my husband and offer to babysit or something.  He'll need all the help he can get.

I'm sure, in a week, I'll be wondering what I was worried about.  I'm sure the anestesia will nothing more than a really good nap and I'll be feeling right as rain in no time.  Hey, maybe I'll check back in for new boobs one of these days after all.

Spa Fail

On a lovely spring day, four ladies set out for a Spa Day at the beautiful Mohonk Mountain House in the Shawgunk Mountains of New Paltz, NY. All checked in to the spa, they decided to explore. They didn't think to take their phones, they didn’t pack water, they kept on their flip-flops and set out with no plan and tissues, lip gloss and a thermos of Mimosas in their arsenal. They intended to take a quick walk around the grounds. They were wrong.

Yes.  I was one of these four knuckleheads and lived to tell the tale.  Our intended stroll turned into three hours of wandering somewhat aimlessly through the greater Mohonk preserve without the first clue of how to get back where we started from.  There was panic.  There was hunger.  There was thirst.  There was talk of who would get eaten first if it came down to it.  It wasn't pretty.

Once we found our way back from the brink of death, we picked up a map. Of course now we are aware that a map would've been useful BEFORE getting lost in the woods for three hours but clearly that thought never crossed our pretty little minds as we stepped out into the world.  What do you want?  We are cute. Do we have to be smart too?!  Geez.  You want everything!

Anyway, having examined the map, I was able to suss out exactly where we went wrong (over and over again) and I made a poster out of it to commemorate this horrific event with some of my dearest friends.

You can click this image for the full map but I'm going to break it down for you right here in the blog.  By the way, you are welcome, in advance, for how smart you are going to feel after you read this.

First is our intended path.  This is what we set out to do.

But that is not what we did.  No.  As it turns out, we set out on the wrong path almost from the get go.  Unaware that we were already on "leg 1" of the walk of fail, we stopped to toast our awesome girl's day out with the mimosas I was toting along.  Also, blissfully unaware that it is against the rules to have alcohol on the hiking trails.  That's another tidbit I learned from the map I picked up afterward.

After walking a bit further, my friend Tami thought we should turn around.   We all still thought we were on a path that would loop back toward the main house.  We ventured on.

We had set out on our walk at 11:00.  It was probably about 11:45 when Nancy's stomach growling began startling small forrest creatures.  She tried to bribe Tami for the cheese she had packed but, sadly, Tami left it in her spa locker along with anything else that might have been useful.

We were starting to feel lost when we came upon a map of sorts at Rhododendron Bridge.  It didn't say anything about the Mountain House but it mentioned a Trapps Visitor's Center.   We had never heard of it but figured a visitor's center meant people who could potentially help us.  My friend Jean thought that would take us away from where we needed to go.

This is the actual sign at Rhododendron Bridge.

Now on "leg 2" of the walk of fail, I tried to break the mounting tension as I offered to allow everyone to eat me if I died first.  The didn't object much at all.

Before my friends could take me up on my generous offer, a jogger appeared wearing a Mohonk Preserve tag.  She shook her head at us guessing that we came from the mountain house and were way lost based solely on our lack of appropriate foot wear or gear of any type.  Who does she think she is?!?! Nancy thought the jogger "saved us".  Looking at the map, I think she might have said "Hey, why don't you walk another 400 yards to the Visitor's center and see if someone can give you a ride back?" Or even "Come with me, I will help you!"  Not exactly the heroine of the day in my opinion.

Following the joggers instructions, we headed wearily back to Rhododendron Bridge which I have dubbed "leg 3" of our walk of fail.  We reached the bridge and headed in the direction she indicated.  Her vague instructions said that the road would be "uphill" so when we came to yet another fork, we took the uphill fork.  Wrong again.

On "leg 4" of the walk of fail, which is by far my LEAST favorite part of this journey, we were on some unnamed service road in the blazing heat.  It was at this point that we began yelling for any nearby help. Tami employed her super loud whistling skills and got a bird to respond but nobody else.   Nancy declared that we were turning back!

Little did we know that we weren't far from a more direct path back to the mountain house but with the decisions we'd been making so far, we probably wouldn't have taken that turn anyway.

Finally, there was a light at the end of the tunnel.  We could actually SEE the resort!  We had been avoiding drinking any more mimosas for fear of dehydration.  We were so relieved we took a much deserved break to quench our thirst.  It tasted like heaven.

We finally reached the dining room for our complimentary spa lunch at just about 2:00.   We burst in like the desperate lunatics we are begging for water and a phone so we could postpone our spa appointments to 3:30.

At last!  With our thirsts were quenched, our appointments were moved and our food on the way we were able to laugh about our excursion... well, a little bit anyway.    We realized that nobody would really feel bad for four dummies who set out unprepared and didn't even miss a meal.

It is true. We are dumb - dumb -dumb but would it kill someone to put an arrow on the bridge sign saying “HEY LOST KNUCKLEHEADS - MOHONK MOUNTAIN HOUSE IS BACK THAT WAY!” and signs on the trails saying “YOU ARE NOW LEAVING MOHONK RESORT PROPERTY AND ENTERING THE MOHONK PRESERVE WHICH IS VERY LARGE AND YOU PROBABLY DON’T WANT TO DO IF YOU ARE WEARING FLIP-FLOPS AND ONLY EQUIPPED WITH LIP GLOSS, TISSUES AND MIMOSAS!”

Sidebar:
More useful things we found on the map when we got back.

Where Babies Come From

The age old question that every parent dreads getting asked.

The average kid begins to ask that question between ages 6-8.  My daughter is 5 and a half and she didn't bother to ask.  She drew her own conclusions, and, when you think about it, she's really not that far off. 

Miranda's Baby-Making Theory

(get's cut off because my battery died but all she said after that was "...baby out. The end.")

She only missed the mark a tiny bit with the "pea" on the "conveyor belt".   She came frighteningly close on the "magic potion" supplied by the dad.   A little closer than I am comfortable with! And the baby coming out of a "secret door".   I guess only the daddy knows where the door is!

Her 3-year-old brother, Jack, took a stab at it too but he pretty much copied his big sister.

Baby-Making Theory (Jack Re-mix)


His incorporates some kind of baby store.  However, he was right about one thing.  When you use the "door" twice, that's it.  No more!  At least in his mom's case! The baby-making door (and the store, for that matter) is CLOSED!

Where do you your tots thing babies come from?