HOT MESS-terpiece

I'm not very good at keeping in touch with people...even people I love a whole lot. I know this because: a) I'm very perceptive and sensitive to the aches of hearts I've left void of my wit, wisdom, and overall awesomeness. b) One very honest, world-traveling friend told me so. c) "a" was a lie.

It's not that I don't care. (I DO!! I care enough for multiple exclamation points!!!) I'm just not good at it. I'll forget to write you those old-school-super-cute-hand-written notes I promised, I'll get sucked into my own life ie: college, wedding planning, etc...and then I'll awkwardly attempt to post on your facebook wall....I'll sit there with my post in the box...

"HEY GIRL! It's been forever, huh? Miss you tons! How is everything?!"

...hmm over-zealous much? let's try it again, Fryer...and this time, try not to sound like you want to wear her skin for Halloween. 

"Hey ____. Hope everything is going well."

Ew...now you sound like a passive aggressive ex-girlfriend trying subtly tell them to choke on their frozen yogurt...hmmph. Oh well! Looks like I'll just wait until their birthday or assorted major holiday...

I happily stalk you from afar...and your birthday approaches...and I forget. Or I'm not on Facebook on your birthday and therefore have no idea that it actually happened. (What? Don't act like you have everyone's birthdays memorized. You don't. YOU. DON'T.)

But every once and a while in this InstaTwitterFace-a-fide world, you get to have real conversation with your "friends"....I mean friends. Sorry about the quotes, but do you really know 758 people? (No, you don't. YOU DON'T.)

On my way to a basic work-related errand, I ran into a dear friend (no quotes) who was victim to the aforementioned forgetfulness. We had been the best of friends for YEARS of our formative awkward phase. (And when I say our formative awkward phase - I'm referring to....mine). We danced, sang, acted, star gazed, sailed, and giddily talked about everything together and then....poof! Life gets weird. You go to different high schools, different colleges, live in different states, get married, and one day you see a profile picture and think - hey, I remember you! You were (and probably still are) awesome! Why did I let you slip away?! STEEELLLLLLLLAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!

Okay. You probably don't get that dramatic.
But I do.

So yeah, back to long-lost friend...we run into each other and immediately start talking a mile a minute about life/transition/puppies/cars/marriage....my brain says..
"ME FOUND...FRIEND?"

Hellz yeah.
We make plans to hang out that coming week.
And then it happens.

I get hit by a wall of weirdness. The kind that makes you feel like an alien invaded your body and you can't control your own limbs...well, no. It just makes you feel weird.

Did she think I looked okay?
Have I gained weight since the last time she saw me?
Did I come on too strong? She's going to think I have NO friends. (she'd be right-ish)
What should I wear? Does this blazer say "I have my ish together?"
Ah! This is a double date? Oh crap, I have to coach Husband on what to say/not say. Awkward dance moves, freakish love of Ina Garten, cartoon voice (don't ask), and falling asleep to the Food Network without brushing my teeth are off limits. Focus on my new car. Yeah, that's a selling point. Who doesn't want a friend with a kick-ass new whip?! BOOM!

Ew. I hate myself. I'm going to cancel.

...NO! I can't! I'm an adult!

Does ANY of this ring any bells? Not even Notre Dame status. I'll take a jingle bell. Anyone?
Why do we play this game? We're all a bunch of hot messes. Can I get an "Amen" from all my 20-something peoples?

Yeah, I could hear the roar all the way on my side of the internet.

It's true.

We're perfectly happy to proclaim it to the world via ironic memes (old folks, google that term), but when we really need to project who we are to the world most of us try our best to create a shiny-perfectly-intact-responsible-pulled-together-adult shell.

Well, that got me thinking about one of my absolute favorite desserts. (ANOTHER DESSERT, LILY?? yes friends, another dessert. deal.)

Let me introduce you to trifle. Not English trifle with freaky fruit gel and sprinkles, but a sticky sweet good ol' American trifle. You guys, do you know what trifle is?

WHATEVER THE HECK YOU WANT IT TO BE.
Yeah, I just yelled in your face a little. Sorry.

But seriously, this dessert is you. It's layered. It changes depending on who's making it. It's full of completely different textures. It's a mess really. However, somehow it still looks gorgeous. But how, Lily?! Welp, wanna learn a lesson from a conglomeration of ripped up cake, pudding, and fruit? ...yeah you do...

Peaches and Cream Trifle

Step One: Bake a vanilla cake. Yeah, that's all I'm giving you....vague much? Well here's the thing...since I've got a big girl job now (booya! more on that soon) I don't have as much energy to make all da thangs from scratch, so a boxed cake mix will do as long as it's not Betty Crapper Crocker....What's that you say? I used a box cake mix BEFORE I got this new job?...well, in that case, in the spirit of tradition feel free to use a boxed cake mix. Bake it according to the directions and let it cool.

Step Two: While your cake is cooling, put a metal mixing bowl in the freezer (this will eventually make sense...and for those of you who know me...it already does) and cook up some instant or not-so-instant vanilla pudding. Yep, this recipe just gets more and more difficult.

PUDDIN'

Step Three: After all the hard work, you'll need to be mentally prepared for this one...Wash 6 peaches. Don't break out in hives now, folks. Pace yourselves. Then slice them into 1/4 inch (ish) wedges.

This is how far past season I am...(fail)

Step Four: Throw sliced peaches into a large shallow saucepan with 4 tablespoons beet sugar. (or regular white sugar if you must). Cook for about 10 minutes on medium heat until they are softened and simmering in their own juice. Remove from heat.

Step Five: Remember that mixing bowl? Grab that sucker and pour in some whipping cream. Mhmm - it's WHIPPED CREAM TIME, BABIES! I use a whole quart - DUH. Whip it into oblivion with an electric mixer and add a half a teaspoon of cinnamon. Stop beating when stiff peaks form..or else you'll get butter. And last time I checked eating a pile of butter on top of your dessert wasn't socially acceptable. (If I'm mistaken, someone please tell me, cause I'm IN)

Step Six: Cut your cake in half across the top, thus making it thinner. Cube it from there.

Thanks, box!

Step Seven: Layer cake in the bottom. Follow by a layer of peaches, pudding, cake, peaches, pudding, cake, peaches, and ALL THE WHIPPED CREAM!

 

Step Eight: Take like a bazillion pics of this thing - cause DIS BE NICE LOOKIN'!  Eat. Eat. Eat.

 

Behold, one of the most beautiful desserts around made from ripped up chunks of cake, instant pudding, and assorted shortcuts...And the here's the thing - it's just as delicious as it is beautiful despite all the hidden craziness.

So after making this, I got less nervous/dumb. No one has it all together. If they say they do, they are 1) Lying 2) Completely out of touch 3) Beyonce (girl has got is going ON)

There you have it friendys. Let your shortcuts, weirdness, and ripped up bits shape you into something beautiful. People will love you for it.
...Or at least I will. xo

Simple Sauce

Full disclosure:


This blog will not give you a recipe to Ed's secret sauce (ie: Good Burger - one of the best Nickelodeon movies ever), beurre blanc, or well....any sauce.


There will be no sauce here....Unless you count whipped cream...


...which I ALWAYS DO.


So yeah, anyways...Let us turn our attention to that first word rather than the fact that I compulsively add the word sauce onto things purely for emphasis.


Simple.


In some regards, I am damn good at simple.


For example, I find complete and utter joy in watching Iron Chef America in bed while playing cards with Husband. (and no, "playing cards" is not code for anything creepy...you guys are weirdos.) I can regularly be found in line at the only my favorite bagel place in Bangor quivering with joy upon ordering a lemonade. (peoplez, i LUVS da lemonadez...srsly) Fresh flowers cut from our family garden bring me to tears. Well, not really....actually not at all. But I do really dig em! (gardening pun?...yikes) I could be completely content with a bowl of coconut pudding with a dollop  smothered in whipped cream.


You get the idea.


However, there are some aspects of this simplicity thing that I just cannot wrap my head around. One of them being people that only have 3  5  10 15 pairs of shoes. I mean, I'm on a budget, but when I find a pair of $7 designer shoes (yes, this does happen in Maine...it just happened yesterday actually...twice) how can you say no?!


Meh...that one I'll never understand and I'm not going to try.
Don't try to convince me...Seriously, I'm dedicated to my shoes....Don't mess with me in the comments section...or I'll bake an effigy cake of you for my next blog. (I probably won't, but that wouldn't be kinda cool?...and sick?...and awesome?)


Wow...ADD today, huh? The day you're writing the "Simplicity" blog, huh Fryer? Figures.


The simple I'm worst at is what I'll dub 'the weekend kind.'
You know.


You finally get home on Friday afternoon. Your work week was "crazy" (like everyone always says theirs was - even if they work reading books to plants in a zen garden). You're tired. Your feet hurt from those $7 designer shoes you just couldn't put down. So what do you do? Relax with a glass of wine out on your deck? Take a long bath and read Vogue? Change into sweats and start a Lord of The Rings marathon with your other nerdy girlfriends? Well, if you do the latter, please invite me. Not only am I an avid nerd and psychotic fan of Tolkien, but chances are I'm not being so wise with my limited leisure time.


You'll probably find me hastily running errands, changing into my gym (here "gym" is a loose term meaning living room Netflix workout or ...sidewalk) clothes at lightning speed, working out, making plans that don't need to be made, organizing my closet, and overall ruining my weekend from the get-go.


Even my weekend "fun" is usually type-A-over-achieving-annoying. I plan things out. If I'm sitting still for more than the length of a Parks and Rec episode, I'm "wasting time". I'm idle. I'm useless! MUST. ACCOMPLISH. ALL. THE. THINGS!!!!


Yeah, I spiral pretty quickly.


So this weekend, I once again had grand plans to get up at 6, be on the road by 7, drive 2 hours to the beach with Husband, come back that night, work out (yeah...right), church Sunday morning, cook, blog, work out, movies, cleaning, make cookies, etc...sickening, I know..


No, I'm not trying to sound cool and superhero-y. My point is, this is a terrible way to live. Scheduled fun? What am I a Hogwarts student getting an advanced permission slip to grab a butter beer with my friends?! (I wish.) But anyhooo (ah! Harry Potter owl pun! they. just. don't. stop.)


For realzy, I'm not good at the relaxation thing. I blame my super-multi-tasking-epic-Jeni-Cat. She is constantly getting the thangs done! Amazing! I'm sure watching her be incredible has influenced me in some way...Also, she's my mom, so I'll just go with the general psychological consensus and blame her like everyone else....


Nah...It's my fault. I fall victim to restless-life-syndrome far too often. Why can't we just be okay with the fact that at this very moment we're all relatively okay? Instead of trying to make your Facebook page a mecca of all things awesome that you apparently do or always answering "how are you?" with "oh my gosh, SO busy, but GREAT!" - just stop it already.


Busy does not = great.


We know you're a phony. We know because, like the saying goes, "it takes one to know one."
Calm it down.


That's what I told myself this weekend. So what did I do off my list? LITERALLY NOTHING.
......except make cookies...obviously


So instead of bringing you some intricate recipe I slaved over - Here is a simple recipe for a simple dessert. A tart.


What's more simple than defaulting to the namesake of this blog for a tasty and easy treat? You won't need to stir for hours. You won't need to shop forever at the grocery store. You won't need to plan this out for days and read through the directions 5 times. You can come home on Friday, throw on your sweats, pour some red wine, and make this with your Honey or your nerdy girlfriends. They'll appreciate it and they'll appreciate you for putting an end to your darn obsessiveness. Simple Sauce.


Sugar Cookie Fruit Tarts


Step One: Combine 2 1/2 cups flour, 1/2 teaspoon baking powder, 1/4 teaspoon salt


Step Two: In a separate bowl, beat 1 cup sugar, 10 tablespoons softened butter (no one said simply meant healthy, folks)


Step Three: Add 1 1/2  teaspoons vanilla and 2 egg whites. And as Michael would say, "Beat it"


Step Four: Slowly add dry mix, beating on low until combined. Wrap in plastic wrap and chill for 1 hour. (Relax, start a movie, play a board game, compose a poem describing your love of sugar cookie dough, whatever....but if you do write an ode to sugar cookie dough, I expect to see it in the comments)


Step Five: Remove dough from fridge. Mold dough into mini tart pans. Simple.

TINY THINGS ARE SO CUTE!!

Step Six: Bake at 350 for about 20-30 minutes depending on how crunchy you like your tart crust. I err on the side of 20.

Try not to eat the dough...or at least don't eat all of it

Step Seven: Remove baked tart shells and fill with your choice of fruit. I chose fresh Maine blueberries (DUH) and strawberries we picked ourselves (DOUBLE DUH). Cover with either ice cream or whipped cream (UH...IS THERE A TRIPLE DUH?) ..or both..

207 where you at!?

Fun Fact: That's homemade ice cream...another day another blog for that one

Mhmm, that's a tart after my own heart.

There you have it, crazy kids. Do away with your lists for a change. Stop attempting to learn Mandarian in your car between appointments. Stop making mandatory, but unwanted playdates for yourself like an over-involved mama. Stop chasing this intangible and unhealthy ideal of all we must do and be. Take your weekend and oh, I don't know...STOP WORKING.


Take a bike ride (or rollerblade if you're one of those ironic types, or a child of the 70s, or Husband who just genuinely loves rollerblading). Write a letter - not a text - to that friend you haven't seen in months. Or give up entirely on your plans to "accomplish" fun and just have it. Have a laugh with a friend. Have a double scoop of ice cream and don't think about working it off. Or....Have a Star Wars marathon with your entire family as you eat a bucket of Sour Patch Watermelon candies.
Worked for me.