Oh, I remember the days. I remember the days, when the anticipated arrival of each of our children meant reintroducing ourselves to new baby product innovations.  The new model Diaper Genie, evolution of Fisher Price Little People, baby monitor upgrades, car seat safety enhancements, these were all developments very familiar to us.  We evaluated each new baby technology, determined if it seemed necessary, either purchased it or shrugged, and went about our days.  Well, with our youngest boy Ben entering Kindergarten, we have been out of the baby loop for a while now.

That is why I could not answer our 10-year-old Jacob’s question, as we passed one of the sale shelves at Target, “What is a ‘Baby Band?’” Indeed, what is a “Baby Band?”  Contrary to popular opinion, it has nothing to do with singing babies, but rather it is a wrap that you place around the expectant mother’s belly that protects the fetus from radiation sources such as microwaves, cell phones, and I don’t know what else, perhaps the Sun.  Shrugging, we continued with our shopping.

As we strolled the aisle, 5-year-old Ben experienced his usual volume control issues, 7-year-old Sam displayed his usual tendency of walking into me, and 10-year-old Jacob exhibited a new behavior that will hopefully end soon. Saying hello to a gentleman that I casually know, but could not immediately place, Jacob began asking loudly within the man’s earshot, “Who is that?  What’s his name?”  Walking away, I tried to give my old mind time to remember, but there was no buying time with Jacob.  “Who is that?  What’s his name?,”  he continued.  His brothers soon joined in, as if it was very important that they know and apparently urgent to their wellbeing.  Unfortunately, the continued questioning was not only mildly embarrassing, but also further slowed down my recall.  “Give me a moment,” I pitifully responded.  Then it hit me, not only the name, but also perhaps the source of these child tendencies.  When my boys were on the way, what if the baby band had been around?  Would they still act like this?  Would they still be rolling around on the floor in the middle of the store aisles?  What if the baby band had been there, as a source of early intervention?  What if, indeed.  Give me a moment, while I try to think about it.

The request was simple, “Bake something with these bananas.” My wife had turned to me for help.  Help in a moment of need, because old frozen bananas were filling up our freezer.  In an attempt to address the situation, Charlene had placed three frozen bananas on the counter to thaw.  Now, she was turning to me for help.  Turning to me for a solution.  Turning to me at just the right time.  Just the right time, because I had recently sampled some delicious Banana Bread Bars at work and now was the time to replicate them.

Two days later, I am proud to report that this recipe’s plentiful, moist, and delicious bars hold up well over time. They also go great with a morning cup of coffee.

Hopefully, these bars will help you with your banana overabundance issues, just like they came to my rescue. Enjoy.

The best part of waking up, is a Banana Bread Bar by your cup.

BANANA BREAD BARS

– Bar Ingredients –

1½ cups Sugar

1 cup Sour Cream

½ cup Butter

2 Eggs

3 Bananas, mashed

2 teaspoons Vanilla Extract

2 cups Flour

1 teaspoon Baking Soda

¾ teaspoon Salt

– Thin Frosting Ingredients –

½ cup Butter

4 cups Powdered Sugar

1½ teaspoons Vanilla Extract

5 tablespoons Milk, but use only as much as needed

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Grease and flour a 15”x10” pan.

Mix together the sugar, sour cream, butter, and eggs.

Mix in the bananas and vanilla extract. Set aside.

Combine flour, baking soda, and salt.

Gradually mix the “flour mixture” into the “banana mixture.”

Spread batter into the prepared pan.

Bake for 20 minutes or until golden brown.

While the Banana Bread Bars are baking, prepare the “Thin Frosting.”

Melt the butter, until it just begins to boil.

Mix together the butter, sugar, and vanilla extract.

Gradually, add the milk, one tablespoon at a time, until a thin frosting forms (i.e. thicker than glaze, thinner than frosting).

After the bars are finished baking, spread the thin frosting over the still warm bars, which will make the frosting easier to spread.

Makes about 35 bars.

Revised Source: Deb West, fellow Baker Aficionado

During Sunday School, 7-year-old Sam had an especially good time drawing a “Cheese World” with one of his friends. While, I am not sure of Sunday’s lesson (perhaps, through God all things are possible, even a Cheese World?), Sam was very proud of his comical drawing, which was very orange and seemed to contain a person walking around on the surface of Cheese World.

At Sunday evening’s dinner, Sam continued joking about Cheese World (at least I thought it was a joke) and mentioned how when he grows up, he would like to “become an astronaut and travel to Cheese World.” Now, don’t get me wrong.  I like to encourage a child’s imagination, but this seemed like an unlikely career path.  So without much thought, I said to Sam with a little grin that his career plans might not be feasible.  I guess I should have clarified that traveling to Cheese World may be unlikely, but feel free to become an astronaut.  Whatever my intent, it sure landed with a thud at the dinner table, as all eyes looked at me, as if to say, “Don’t crush the boy’s dreams.”  Okay son, feel free to travel to Cheese World, but if you mention plans for a double major in college of Bovine Sciences and Astronomy, I may need to intervene.

Yesterday, we celebrated “Gotcha Day” (i.e. “Adoption Day for Dogs”) with our dog Kirby the Beagle, who has made it an amazing 365 days in the Paulsen house. Amazing, because keeping Kirby has been an exercise in patience.  Extreme patience, because our dear Kirby is a little off.  Off in a way that chews the phone cable off the side of the house.  Off in a way that allows him to run non-stop for an entire day.  Off in a way that triggered him for months on end to dart around the neighborhood, whenever the back gate opened.  One year ago, when we adopted Kirby, his pound puppy name was “Grumphrey.”  Yes, “Grumphrey,” which was kind of fitting, because even his name was a little off.  Yep, a “little off” for Kirby is a kind way to put it.

Kirby running around the backyard, demonstrating that he is a “little off.”

Yesterday, which was Columbus Day, I also finally got around to getting out some Halloween and Columbus Day decorations. Yes, decorating just in the nick of time of time for Columbus Day.  Okay, I would not say that our Columbus Day decorations really even qualify as “decorations,” since they are just little metal models of the three Columbus ships that have their names on the bottoms.  This year, I decided to put the boats by the photos of the boys on the fireplace mantel.  I had them all in order, “Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria.”  Strangely enough, one of the boys disagreed with the order or wanted a different ship assigned to them, because later in the day, the “Pinta” and “Santa Maria” had been mysteriously switched around.  If I had known better, they just changed their order to mess with me and my anal retentive tendencies.  Anyway, looking at the mantel, the ships were a “little off.”

The Columbus Day “decorations,” still a “little off.”

Sitting down for dinner, Charlene remarked that it was nice of me to decorate for Halloween. Then leveling the blow softly, she asked if I knew that the “table runner” was actually intended to be a floor mat.  Okay, now I could see it.  The “table runner” was a little too short and a little too wide.  Yes, the “table runner” was also a “little off.”

Maybe in “Short and Wide World,” my “table runner” would fit right in. In this world, however, it is a “little off.”

Well, to celebrate Kirby’s “Gotcha Day,” I baked Kirby some “cookies for dogs” known as “Snickerpoodles” (recipe below). I know, bad pun, but kind of cute, too.  Any who, Snickerpoodles have no ingredients that would make them a “dog treat,” but rather all ingredients that a human would normally eat, but okay for a dog to consume, too.  Considering that humans and dogs alike could enjoy them, I served them for dessert.  Too my family.  Sure enough, my behavior was a “little off.”  Strange, but my family played along with my behavior and as Kirby finished off five “Snickerpoodles,” my 10-year-old son Jacob provided a very gentle critique.  “Dad, these are not the best cookies,” as he choked down the very dry honey flavored “cookie.”  Well son, that is okay, because remember, it is really a dog biscuit.  Yes, dessert was a “little off,” but what an appropriate way to celebrate “Gotcha Day” for a dog that embodies the phrase “a little off.”

“Snickerpoodles” in their intended setting… a dog dish.

SNICKERPOODLES

– Cookie Ingredients –

½ cup Vegetable Oil

½ cup Shortening

1 cup Honey

2 Eggs

3¾ cups Flour

2 teaspoons Cream of Tartar

1 teaspoon Baking Soda

– Topping Ingredients –

½ cup Cornmeal

2 teaspoons Cinnamon

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Mix together the vegetable oil, shortening, honey, and eggs. Set aside.

Combine the flour, cream of tartar, and baking soda.

Gradually, mix the “flour mixture” into the “honey mixture.” Set aside.

Combine the cornmeal and cinnamon.

Roll tablespoon size balls of dough in the cornmeal and cinnamon.

Place on parchment paper lined baking sheets.

Flatten slightly with the bottom of a glass.

Bake for 8 minutes.

Best enjoyed with your dog.

Makes about 52 dog treats.

Time and laundry waits for no man.

In a special Sunday Night Edition, 10-year-old Jacob’s socks turned up in a new location (drum roll, please)… on the basement computer desk.

Photographer confession: I cleaned up the paper clutter around the socks, but their original location was left unaltered.

Good morning and welcome to Sunday, the beginning of what promises to be a wonderful new week. To celebrate, this morning, I’m baking up some traditional chocolate chip cookies, but extremely timely.  Yep, the cookies for this morning are chocolate chip cookies, which Betty Crocker declared (by the way, when good ol’ Betty Crocker speaks, people listen) the “Best Cooky of 1935-1940.”  That’s right, this morning we are officially celebrating the end of the Great Recession with the best cookie from the end of the Great Depression.  All things old are new again.

These are a delightful chocolate chip cookie that brown up nicely on the bottom. I credit this in part to the use of Crisco shortening, instead of butter.  Normally, I am not a big fan of the Crisco in lieu of butter substitution, but in this case, it works.

Also, just a quick story that brought a smile to my face. A few years back, my folks were visiting and I was baking cookies on a Saturday night to bring to church the following morning.  My mother observed that I was measuring my vanilla extract with a measuring spoon, then she taught me a really useful trick.  On standard vanilla extract bottles, if you remove the cap and fill it with vanilla, it comes out to be exactly one teaspoon.  Cool, huh?  Give it a try and you will never go back to measuring your vanilla.

Any who, welcome to Sunday morning and enjoy a delicious and surprisingly timely chocolate chip cookie.

“BEST OF” CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES

2/3 cup Crisco Shortening

½ cup Sugar

½ cup Brown Sugar

1 Egg

1 teaspoon Vanilla

1½ cups Flour

½ teaspoon Baking Soda

½ teaspoon Salt

1 cup Semi-Sweet Chocolate Chips

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Cream shortening, sugar, and brown sugar.

Mix in egg and vanilla. Set aside.

Combine flour, baking soda, and salt.

Mix “flour mixture” into “shortening mixture.”

Stir in chocolate chips.

Drop by tablespoons of dough onto parchment paper lined baking sheets.

Bake for 8 minutes or until just browned. Cookies will be browned around the edges.

Makes about 32 cookies.

Revised Source: “Chocolate Chip Cookies,” from Betty Crocker’s Cooky Book.  Page 144.  1963.

I forgot to take a photo of the chocolate chip cookies, before I delivered them to church this morning. As a result, I figured I would provide the next best thing…  proof of their title, “Best Cooky of 1935-1940.”

I’m never one to jump on board the healthy foods wagon, but I’m lovin’ my wife’s Kale Chips. They’re thin and crispy, in addition to helping clear some space in the veggie crisper.  Here’s Charlene’s Kale Chips recipe for your enjoyment.  Enjoy.

KALE CHIPS

Kale (amount to your liking)

Olive Oil (enough to drizzle)

Salt (enough to sprinkle)

Parmesan cheese, grated (enough to sprinkle)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper.

Wash kale.

Pat dry, as much as possible.

Remove center stems from the kale.

Tear kale into 3 inch long pieces.

Place kale in a single layer on cookie sheet.

Drizzle lightly with olive oil.

Toss kale to coat with olive oil on cookie sheet.

Return to single layer.

Top lightly with salt.

Bake in oven for 10 minutes.

Upon removing kale from oven, sprinkle with grated parmesan cheese.

Serve as a side.

Source: My lovely wife, Charlene

Friday night is movie night in the Paulsen house. We usually rotate the person who selects the movie, but last Friday was different.  Last Friday was the one hour Disney Channel Series Premier of “Star Wars Rebels,” which is a cartoon about well, um, Star Wars and rebels.  Well, the young Paulsen boys were very excited about this television event and after hearing three months of buildup, I also wanted to see the show.  Poor Charlene, however, tolerated the event and of her own free will sat down with us to watch.

All was well, we had our popcorn and the show was pretty good, as far as Disney Channel cartoon Star Wars shows go, and then all of a sudden… nothing.  To be more specific (or as our 5-year-old Ben says, “Pacific”), we had audio, but no picture.  All of the channels, no picture, just sound.  The little cable menu would pop up on the screen, so the television was okay.  Must be a cable outage or something.  Odd, but considering that it was almost bedtime and we were taping the show anyway, because who does not record a Disney Channel Star Wars Rebels special so that it can be watched over and over again until every word is memorized, we shut off the television and figured that we would try to find a rerun to watch the rest later.  Super Family Movie Night Buzzkill.  I suspect the Dark Side of the Force had something to do with this tragedy.

Heading off to bed ourselves, Charlene and I had largely forgotten about the show’s disappearance and I suspect that Charlene was somewhat relieved, but very kind not to express her feelings. Then I thought I would check the scores and watch the end of the baseball playoff games, when I remembered about the television problems.  Sure enough, the picture was still out, so I embarked on a journey of a thousand miles, which began with a single push.  Yes, I entered the phone number for the cable company and began to navigate the auto attendant menu.  No, not a bill question.  No, turning the cable box on and off does not fix it.  No…  no more questions!  Let me talk to a person!  First, Star Wars, now baseball!  What will they take from me next, my soul?!?

Getting an actual person on the line, I answered all of the same questions that I had answered for the auto attendant, who by the way sounded like she may have been related to Siri, although it never came up in our conversation. The cable operator was helpful, given that it was a Friday night and he probably would rather watch the baseball game or Star Wars or anything rather than talk with me at that moment.  After running through all of the other options (including jiggling all of the cords running to the television…  really, this is what I was doing on a Friday night…  jiggling cords on the back of the television…  this is what my life has become), he suggested something I had not tried, unplug the power cord from the wall that leads to your cable box.  Oh, come on!  I already tried turning the thing off.  Isn’t that the same thing?  Oh well, why not?

Reaching down in the dusty forgotten land, between the bookshelf and the television cabinet (I know, “Television Cabinet,” so retro), I prayed that my shots were up-to-date. This is a land of deceased bugs, dust bunnies, and sadness.  A land where I should not be fumbling around with my hand in the late night hours.  Nevertheless, this is what I needed to do.  This was my mission.  Obi-Wan would be proud.  “Use the force, Dave.”  Sorry, geek out moment, back to the story.  There I was reaching between the bookshelf and television cabinet, I grabbed the power cord and pulled it out of the wall.  Still cradling the phone on my shoulder, the cable customer service rep, who would rather be watching baseball or Star Wars or doing anything other than talking with me, instructed me to push the plug back into the outlet.  Pushing it in, suddenly there was a flash, a “pop,” and then silence.  My helper on the phone had vanished.  The line was dead.  It was almost like the entire essence of his being was transferred into this last ditch effort to correct the problem, then he was gone (more likely something to do with our bundled cable/Internet/phone service, but I prefer to think of it as a moment of spiritual transformation).  Shrugging at the mystery of my vanished helper, I set down the phone and turned on the television.  Magically, it was back.  Sound, picture, everything.

Now, I know that there must be some scientific or mechanical reasoning for the rebirth of our television, but in these mystical moments of life, some things are better left to the philosophers and theologians to explain. May the force (and your television’s picture) be with you, always.

Confession time. I never learned how to tie my shoes.  Never, as in ever.  I know how to tie shoes the cheater way, by making the two bunny ears and looping them around each other, so that they appear to be tied the normal way, but I never learned the right way.  I suspect that I just did not “get it,” as a child and in a desperate attempt to keep my laces from dragging on the ground, I was taught the cheater way.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  In theory, I know how to tie a shoe.  I could verbally explain the process pretty well, but in action, with my fingers, it all falls apart.  My Waterloo?  Perhaps.  My Achilles heel?  Closer.  Just plain pitiful?  Yep.

My inability to tie shoes does not really come up much. Sure, occasionally someone notices that I use the cheater method, but it is very rare.  There is however one instance in which my shoe lace ineptitude becomes painfully obvious…  Kindergarten.  Yep, my boys come home wanting to know how to tie their shoes and there starts my dilemma.  Do I try to teach them the right way and struggle through the process?  Or do I resort to teaching the cheater method?  Or do I make an excuse and wait for Charlene to come home?  In the past, I have avoided the cheater method fallback and have either waited for Charlene or struggled through the embarrassment of trying to teach my son something that I just for whatever reason cannot do.  The good news is that I have struggled past this phase with two of my boys and only one remains.  The bad news, one remains.

The other day, the moment came. 5-year-old Ben’s homework actually instructed him to practice tying his shoes.  Wondering if I could hire a tutor to help, I fearlessly dove fingers first into the challenge.  Acknowledging that I was not the best at tying my shoes (gross overstatement of my abilities), I tried to teach young Ben.  Well, we finished the exercise and he completed his homework, but the results made me sad.  Looking at the two shoes (one tied by me and the other by Ben), it was hard to tell which one I completed.  The good news, soon I will be done with this final challenge and I can live out my days quietly cheating, while I tie my shoes.  The bad news, some of my skill levels are nearly identical to those of my 5-year-old.

“My shoe” on the left and Ben’s on the right…

or was it the other way around?

Certainly, hard to tell.