Peanut Butter Fudge Bars
One of the things that I’ve been wanting to introduce in this blog are some of my favorite recipes. This is a fast and easy bar cookie recipe that is great for that emergency snack that you need to take to class, or want to bring to a family gathering. It is a no-bake recipe which is great for summer when you don’t want to run the oven. They are very rich and in no way healthy or good for you.
1 cup sugar
1 cup light corn syrup
1 cup creamy peanut butter
6 cups rice krispies
1/2 cup semi sweet chocolate chips
1/2 cup butterscotch chips
combine sugar and corn syrup in a large stockpot on medium-high heat until it just starts to boil. Either remove from heat or turn to low and add the peanut butter. Stir until the peanut butter melts and combines with the sugar mixture. Remove completely from heat and add the Rice Krispies (editor’s note: I add the krispies in two batches since it so much and sometimes hard to stir). Lightly spray a 9×13 pan and press the Krispie mixture into pan. (editor’s note: I use a piece of wax paper and my hand to make it as flat and even as possible).
While that cools add the 1/2 cup of chocolate chips and 1/2 cup of butterscotch chips in a microwaveable bowl (editor’s note: I use a large measuring cup for this because it makes it easier to pour out once finished). Heat in microwave on high for 1 minute, stir and repeat until completely melted and blended. (editor’s note: it has never taken me more than 1.5 minutes for this to happen so be careful not to overheat and burn the chocolate. The stirring is the key here). Pour over Krispie mixture and spread evenly. Cover and refrigerate until set – about 2-4 hours. You can serve these warm but it makes the chocolate a bit messy. I find it best to cool them until the chocolate sets and then store them at room temperature.
This is always a fan favorite at my house — so enjoy!
Portia 1997 – 2008
Portia was always a mean cat. I adopted her in 1997 when she was only 8 weeks old and I was single, unattached and desperately lonely. We shared a wonderful year together – just the two of
us. I was traveling a lot for work at the time and she was always a welcome companion to come home to. In 1998 I moved to Texas and that is when the first hint of problems came to the surface. She didn’t like Texas. She was angry with me that I made the decision to move us without considering her feelings on the matter. Shortly after we moved she began scratching the furniture. We tried therapy but she was cold and after she completely scratched the upholstery off the couch I de-clawed her. I don’t think we ever really healed after that breach.
I met David and she felt betrayed. She didn’t like having this interloper in our home. She didn’t understand why I felt the need to have this other person. She hissed at him, she swiped at him and she made it very clear she did not like him. David and I married and she made her disdain of the situation known by peeing NEXT to the litter box, but not IN it. David and I got another cat thinking that if she had her own companion she would be happier and not so dependent on me.
Cosmo seemed to make her happy and we had a couple of good years where we were all able to coexist in happiness and peace. Unfortunately this period of relative happiness was short-lived. Lucy was born and Portia seemed to resign herself to the idea that I was never going to be JUST hers ever again. She was angry and declared all out war. The litter box suddenly became an optional item. We bought bigger litter boxes, we changed litter, we changed locations, we bought extra litter boxes, we tried electric boxes, we cleaned it every day, but nothing seemed to work. We replaced the carpet.
Portia just turned 11 years old. The last time we were at the vet they said her teeth weren’t looking good and they expected them to start falling out. She was continuing to rage her war against us and the litter box and we’ll need to replace the carpet AGAIN. And so finally, after 11 years, Portia and I separated. I made the final and painful decision to put her to sleep, which is weirdly euphemistic for killing my pet.
I’m sad. I’m guilt-ridden. I’m relieved. Because although I loved Portia and I have wonderful memories of snuggling with her at night, she was always a one-person cat. She hated David. She hated the kids and I think as she got older she hated living with us. I’ve never felt more like an adult than I do today.
Boo boos, Band Aids and Boys
Lucy fell down yesterday. Not a strange occurrence for a 4 year old, but this time there was blood. Lucy fell on the driveway and skinned her knee, badly. She was appropriately hysterical and burst into the house demanding that we call 911. Although my instinct as a mother would definitely lean towards this solution I calmly determined that a little bit of peroxide and a band aid would probably do the trick. I placed her on the bathroom counter and began to ever so gently clean it, during which Lucy hysterically demanded through sobs, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHAT IS A COTTON BALL? WHY DO YOU HAVE TO CLEAN IT? I NEED A BAND AID!! ARE THERE GERMS? DON’T TOUCH IT!! DON’T TOUCH IT MOMMY!!” I envisioned slapping her across the face and exclaiming “Damn it woman, pull yourself together!” But then I remembered that she is only 4 and there are laws against those kinds of things.
Just as calm was beginning to be restored and Lucy had simmered down into slow, quiet heaves of sadness Max began to cry uncontrollably and scream, “BOO BOO!! BOO BOO!! BOO BOO!!” I was perplexed. How could he have hurt himself in the five minutes he’d been standing there watching me bandage Lucy’s knee? I said “Boo Boo?” and Max wailed “YESH, BOO BOO!!” I looked at Lucy, she is after all my official Max interpreter, but she had nothing for me. “Max, where does it hurt?” and he raised up his index finger to show me an imaginary boo boo. I delicately placed a band aid on his finger and they both quietly whimpered into the play room to resume their day.
As I tucked them into bed that evening and asked them what the worst part of the day was Lucy said “falling down and hurting my knee” and Max silently raised his bandaged finger indicating that he too was sad. Boy, they say toddlers like to mimic but I really think Max has taken it a bit too seriously.
