MINI DOUGHNUTS

“A few Black Fridays ago, we found a gem. A mini doughnut maker for like ten bucks or something similar like that. Any who, this little appliance treasure keeps on chuggin’. Here are some of this morning’s results. Enjoy!”

1 cup Flour

1/2 cup Sugar

1 Tablespoon Baking Powder

1 Egg

1/2 cup Milk

1/2 teaspoon Vanilla Extract

4 Tablespoons Vegetable Oil

Powdered Sugar, Milk, and Sprinkles for toppings.

Lightly coat the mini doughnut maker with cooking spray.

Plug in the mini doughnut maker to preheat.

Combine the flour, sugar, and powdered sugar.

Mix in the egg, milk, and vanilla extract.

Mix in the vegetable oil.

Drop Tablespoon sized dollops (I just wanted to type dollop) of batter into each doughnut mold.

Doughnuts are done cooking, when they are browned, cooked through, and easily pop out of the molds.

Set the doughnuts aside.

Prepare icing by mixing together the powdered sugar and milk to create the desired consistency.

Dip the cooled doughnuts into the icing, top with sprinkles, allow the icing to set, and enjoy!

Makes several mini doughnuts.

Revised Source – “Basic Donut Recipe” in the Bella Cucina Mini Donut Maker Instruction Manual.

CHARLENE’S FOURTH OF JULY COOKIES

“My beautiful, talented, and patriotic wife altered her traditional M&M cookies for the Fourth of July holiday. Enjoy!”

1/2 cup Butter flavored Shortening

1/2 cup Butter

2 1/2 cups Flour

1 1/4 cups Sugar

2 Eggs

1 teaspoon Vanilla Extract

1/2 teaspoon Baking Soda

2 cups Semisweet Chocolate Chips

1 cup Red, White, and Blue M&Ms, plus some more for the top of the cookies

1/4 cup Red, White, and Blue Sprinkles, plus some more for the top of the cookies

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Cream the shortening, butter, and sugar.

Mix in the eggs and vanilla extract.

Mix in the flour and baking soda.

Stir in the chocolate chips and M&Ms.

Place Tablespoon sized balls of dough onto parchment paper lined baking sheets.

Press additional M&Ms onto the tops of the cookie dough balls.

Top with additional sprinkles.

Bake for 8 minutes or until the edges are lightly browned.

Enjoy with fireworks.

Makes about 60 cookies.

Revised Source – “Chocolate Chip Cookies” recipe in the Better Homes and Gardens “New Cook Book.”

America, a Land of Innovation. Proof? Today, my wife made a Sprite and Rainbow Sherbet Float. ‘Nuff said and Happy Fourth of July!

Times change and I have been forced to change as well. Today’s game of baseball has no fear of strikeouts, cares less about On Base Percentage, and is all about power. This has been hard for me to accept and has challenged my one single rule. My one untouchable truism. Don’t swing at a 3-0 pitch. Never ever. Ever ever.

It’s like, dude, you have a 50-50 chance of getting on base by just setting down your bat and reading a magazine. Why swing? Ever? Well, like I was saying, times have changed and people no longer care about my “Don’t swing on a 3-0 pitch” Rule. So fine, I shall change, too.

A fine demonstration of my change is this year’s Little League season. This is my tenth season coaching and for nine years, I drilled my 3-0 philosophy into those young minds. “Billy,” I would yell at my batter from the Third Base coaching box, “it’s a 3-0 count.” The kid would know not to swing and 50 percent of the time they would trot to first with a walk. Ah, it was a thing of beauty. An act of baseball managerial harmony. All right in world, but no more. Times have changed and now I keep my mouth shut. Swing away, kiddos. That’s the new way.

So there I was, standing in the Third Base coaches box, keeping my mouth shut. My ten-year-old son Ben was at the plate. Sure enough, the count reached 3-0, but still I kept my mouth shut. He would need to navigate this new world on his own, my old way of thinking would be of little help.

Suddenly, I saw young Ben glance up at me and smile. He mouthed, “3-0,” and I nodded my approval. My boy had been 3-0 hardwired. He had learned his lesson well.

The next pitch? It was low and outside. My son walked to First Base. We had a runner. A runner courtesy of a father teaching his son.

Eight – I picked up my teen from Cross Country practice and casually asked, “How far did you run today?” In a low key manner, he responded, “Eight miles.” Matter of fact. Just the way it was. I dropped him off at his evening baseball game and continued my task of driving his brothers to and fro.

Three – Arriving back at the ballfield, I settled in to watch the game. I leaned over to another parent to see how the game was going. “Jacob did well,” he responded. “He pitched the first three innings.”

Fifteen – Walking with my son to the car, post-game, he mentioned, “I was a little tired, but coach asked me to pitch. After the first inning, it wasn’t too bad.”

To be fifteen again, that’s an energy reserve to be tapped. And run. And pitched.

It was a morning of frump. A day when you are getting ready for work and all of your clothes look downright frumpy. Yep, if you put those clothes on, you will look like crap. A disappointment to yourself and society. The embodiment of frumpiness. Clothes that just say, “I’ve given up. How are you doing?”

The only solution. The only way out. The suit. I decided to go all out. Black suit and red tie, it would be. I would look good and it would also say, “Damn, either Dave’s avoiding ‘the frump’ or he’s got a job interview.” I was going to look good. To Hell with frump.

Spying my black suit coat, I looked for my black dress pants. Oh snap, thwarted again. They were in the hamper. Frump had the upper hand. Sad, I approached my black suit coat. If nothing else, I could imaging myself looking like anything other than complete and total garbage.

Taking my suit coat off of its hanger, I stood in shock. There underneath was a pair of new black dress pants, tags still on, and even tailored. I had no memory of this pants purchase. It had to have been many months ago. I hurriedly shimmied on my find and, my friend, I tell you what, they fit spectacular. They hung in just the right ways, they draped it all good, they made my butt look fine, and having been at one point tailored, they were the perfect length.

It appears as if life had smiled on me. Months ago, I had made a wise choice. Pants purchased in the past had saved me in the present. The frump had been defeated for today.

It was 4:30PM on Friday and the office potluck could safely be declared as over. I surveyed the remains. A bag containing chip crumbs, a jar with a thin layer of queso, and a bowl containing some random berries. Well, there you have it. The fruit scraps of blueberries and strawberries would be the winner. They would be my snack for the drive home.

I put the fruit in a little bowl and began my end of day circuit around the office. “Have a great weekend.” “What are your plans?” “See you Monday.” I turned off my computer and headed home.

Well into the weekend, I had the sneaking feeling that I had forgotten something. The fruit. It never made it into the car. I never ate it. It had to be sitting somewhere in the office. Absentmindedly set down, during my rounds.

I imagined disaster. Fruit flies gone amok. Rotting yummies sitting out for days.

First thing Monday morning, I began my frantic search. Copy Room. Nothing. Co-worker cubes. Nothing. Kitchen Area. Nothing. Top of file cabinets. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, anywhere I looked, nothing.

The fruit had vanished. Either a Good Samaritan had disposed of it, the fruit flies had gobbled it up (bowl and all), or (gasp) some beast that roams the empty cubes on the weekends had swallowed it whole.

Sorry guys, I appeared to have fed the beast (that has to be the case). Remember, safety in numbers. Leave the office in pairs.

My son, who shall remain nameless, marched into my bedroom and asked, “When are you guys going to do laundry, because I have gone four days without underwear?”

Correction, this one shall now go by the name of “Commando Son.”

Looking outside, I could see the rain coming down. Thunderstorms. It was really pouring. Only one thought crossed my mind, my son was stuck at cross country practice.

Yes, my son was at the High School gym and was planning to use his bike to travel the two miles home. My boy would be riding his bike home in the rain.

I did the right thing. I was a good dad. Even though it would mean taking my lunch early and shuttling him around town, I sent the message.

Um, okay. I guess life works better, when I actually know the timing of my kid’s activities.

#WellIntentionedDad #DrenchedSon

The more things change…

and even as we say goodbye to an old friend, the more things stay the same.