Fully Loaded, Thick and Chewy Granola Bars

With Almonds, Sunflower Seeds, Dark Chocolate, Unsweetened Coconut, Dried Cherries, Dried Cranberries & Golden Raisins

I got up from the floor and brushed off the back of my legs. “We need to vacuum.”

“What do you mean ‘we?'” Roo replied.

“There’s cat hair everywhere,” I said, picking at a couple stray hairs on my pants, “When was the last time we vacuumed?”

“You mean when was the last time I vacuumed?

“I vacuum!”

“You’ve never vacuumed. Or take out the trash.”

“I do! And…I thought you liked to do those things.”

“Really?”

I laughed, unable to keep a straight face.  “We need to vacuum.”

The kitchen timer went off before Roo could reply.

“What are you baking?”

“You mean, what are we baking?” I said, removing the granola bars from the oven; the smell of toasted almonds, coconut and cherries filling the apartment.

I could hear Roo getting up from the couch.  “Granola bars?” he asked, as he shuffled in behind me.

“For school. And that little girl who takes away your cookies.”

“E,” Roo smiled, “And she asks.”

He tore off a corner piece, batting the hot crumble between his hands a few times before popping it into his mouth.  “You know what?”

“What?”

“We need to make more of these.”

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Chewy Granola Cookies

I am not the easiest person to live with.

For one, I’m becoming my mother at the wee age of 30.  I realized this when I started to wash out the kitchen trash can last weekend.  Really, who does that?  My mom.  Oh, and me.

Also like my mother, I ask, without fail, the second after Roo takes a bite of food how it is.  (FYI “it’s good,” is not a proper response.)

Second, there were a few times where it was pointed out that I have a hard time throwing things away.

“Babe, we have so many empty glass jars.  I feel like we’re one away from being cast on Hoarders.”

“What are you talking about?  I use them, like all the time.”

“For what?  Besides leaving them in a paper bag on the floor.”

“That’s where they live!  I don’t have any cupboard space.”

“Because there’s no room in the cupboard from all your glass jars.”

Lastly, I may or may not have had two meltdowns so far this week.  But in my defense, the first was from burning my hand….by grabbing a pan that had been in the oven.  The second was after realizing there was shattered glass in every single cup we owned….because I dropped a bowl on top of those cups and it um, shattered.

So when Roo asks if there’s a way he can have cookies at ‘snack,’ (which to me is essentially second breakfast), I try to make it happen.  After all, I need to keep someone around to identify my body when it’s found underneath a mountain of fallen glass jars.

Double Coconut and Banana Loaf

This afternoon I was interrupted Facebook stalking doing my research for my next lab meeting by a phone call from Roo.  He occasionally calls when he’s stuck in traffic.

“Babe, sometimes I think I’m psychic.”

“Mmm hmm….Wait, what?”

“Are you doing something right now?”

I click my browser window closed, “Uh no, I was just petting Monkey.  What’s up?”

“As I was walking up the stairs at school today, I thought, you know what would be funny? If I missed a step.”

“Uh huh, so you missed a step. Ok, well…”

“No, that’s not the whole story.”

“You missed a step and the children saw you?  Did you fall in front of a parent?  Oh no…did you take down a parent?”

“What? No. No, what happened was, I was carrying my cup of tea as I was walking up the stairs, and it spilled. Up into my face.”

“Are you serious?”

“And when I went back into the classroom, the kids were wrapped up in a conversation about what ‘their problem was.’  To which I said, ‘You know what my problem is?'”

“Oh no, please don’t tell me you did a two-face reveal of your horribly burned face,” I said, picturing him asking the class with his ‘good side.’

“Oh yes.  And when they asked, I replied, ‘I just boiledmyface.'”

“You did the dramatic point and reveal, didn’t you.”

“I boiled my face.  Of course it was dramatic.  But that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Are you ok?”

“It feels like burning.”

“Seriously, are you on your way to the hospital?  Do you need burn cream?”

“No, it’ll be fine.  But…do we have any of that cake left?”