I turned 32 this last weekend. And 32 feels strikingly more adult than 31. I can’t really put my finger on it, but there is a definite difference, I’m sure of it. Maybe it comes with feeling more settled, not so transient anymore. Having come back to my roots a couple years ago, I finally feel home again. We have great friends, family, and co-workers here. A house that we can call ours (with stuff on the walls!)….
So here we are. The end of summer. We celebrated end-of-summer’s eve last night watching our KC Royals play to a sold out stadium. Heath and I sat sandwiched between a couple families with young kids, and not a single detail of the muggy night under the bright lights escaped them. Wide-eyed with their royal blue capes, those kids were entranced by the megatron, stuffing popcorn and peanuts into their mouths as they cheered, and were endlessly trying to start the wave. I, of course, tried to oblige them each and every time. That is summer. The most American of pastimes, and through a child’s eyes, no less. A perfect way to close it out….
Peanut butter. Maple syrup. Chocolate chips. Melted into the goopiest goop you’ve ever seen. Marshmallows? Sure, throw those in too. The goopier the better. Growing up, this was my sister’s after-school snack. We had those hyper-colored plastic bowls that changed color in the microwave that I had received for sending in all my oatmeal box proofs-of-purchase to the Quaker Oats man. She would fill one of them up with her special ingredients, pop it in the microwave, and pull out the sweet peanut butter combo (the bowl a different color, of course). I don’t know how this little “treat” started and could never really understand why, but everyday at about 4:30 in the afternoon, the house smelled amazing.…