Taking Candy from Babies, Part II:An October Public Service Announcement( + Fresh Mozzarella, Prosciutto, and Fig Jam Panini )

Earlier this week, I announced the Bearfrau's foolproof plan for reclaiming your lost youth.  I don't want to bore you with the high-tech details, but mostly it involves eating the Halloween candy you bought for the neighborhood kids.  Of course I'm not actually advocating taking candy from babies.  What am I, a monster?  I'm advocating taking it from grown children.  And not even really taking it - just creating a series of obstacles to it.  If the child decides the challenge isn't worth the reward, well, that's just a commentary on the decline of tenacity and drive in the youth of America today.  It's no fault of yours.

Taking Candy from Babies, Part I:An October Public Service Announcement( + Tuna Panini )

Imagine it's 1987.  An elementary-school cafeteria, the day after Halloween.  A swarming madhouse of glucose-addled children, gearing up for recess after a healthy meal of half a bologna sandwich and as many fun-sized Butterfingers as it takes to fill a Thundercats lunch box.  Gods and heroes are being made today.  Ryan Finnegan is telling the Homeric epic of how he grabbed an entire bowl of Sweet-Tarts off an unattended porch and ran.  Vanessa Simmons brought so many Chuckles that she can't finish them all - the entire 3rd-grade class is singing Tiffany's "I Think We're Alone Now" to compete for her leftovers.  Are you enjoying the nostalgia?  Good.  One of us should.

I myself have trouble enjoying Halloween because it always reminds me of the bleak hellscape of misery and despair that was my low-sugar childhood.  No Pop Rocks.  No Pop-Tarts.  No Ring Pops.  And definitely no pop.  It was a dark time, filled with lies and misdirection.  For years, my brother and I labored under the false impression that sliced dried pineapple was a "treat."  I didn't have my first Dorito until the age of 16.  And I still wake up sweating in the night with the taste of carob in my mouth.

Three Things We’re Going to Fix Today [Participation Mandatory] (+ Pickled Ninja Cherries)

It’s been a rough couple of weeks at Chez Bear, with a pile of disappointments of the “As it turns out, that dream of yours will definitely not be coming true” variety.  There was some numb household puttering, then some mopey under-covers hibernation, and finally some dull-eyed marathon TV-staring.  Now we’re regrouping.

The hardest bit was dealing with the fact that some of these disasters were entirely our fault.  We made mistakes, and they cost us dearly.  And for a perfectionist like myself, the idea that some mistakes can never be remedied, that sometimes doors are closed forever and no amount of determination and hard work can open them again, is just shy of maddening.

So I’m dealing with my frustration in what I hope is a positive way, by fixing the things that can be fixed.  Squeaky hinges have been oiled.  Lost buttons have been replaced.  And now I’m moving on to bigger challenges.  That’s where you come in.  I’ve found, to my great astonishment, that there are people who read this blog.  People who aren’t related to me.  People from all around the world.  Setting aside my shock for a moment, imagine what we could accomplish with our combined resources.   Well, you don’t technically have to imagine.  If you’ll look at the title again, you’ll see that it’s mandatory. Congratulations.  You’re my minion now.  But don’t worry.  I’ve only chosen three targets, and I took care of the third already.  The other two should be a snap.

Three Helpful Tips for Newlywed Life (+ Doughnuts with Grapefruit Curd)

It’s July now, which means that we are mired in the blackest depths of wedding season.  (That’s my take, anyway; if you like doing the YMCA in uncomfortable shoes and running interference between your second cousin and “handsy Uncle Leon,” more power to you.)  Since it’s recently been brought to my attention that I’m coming up on my first wedding anniversary, this seems a perfect time to give you soon-to-be brides a few bits of hard-earned wisdom.  There are plenty of books on marriage out there, and plenty of relatives who’d like to give you advice.  The following three matters, however, were never mentioned in any of my sources, and took me completely by surprise.  Lest you be similarly gobsmacked, consider this list my wedding gift to you. 

1.   Nobody Cares About Your Charming Personality 

                (Except Your Husband, and Even His Motives are Suspect)

From the very first second that you are legally married, everyone around you is going to take a sudden and disconcerting interest in your uterus.  If they are especially polite, elderly relatives greeting you at the reception will wait until after they tell you how lovely you look before launching into questions about your sperm-related plans.  But most won’t.

In the weeks and months following the wedding, the behavior of previously rational human beings will become increasingly worrisome.  Potential grandparents with degrees in the field of medicine will try to convince you that pregnancy will help your cramps, your skin, and possibly that ingrown toenail.  Every adult you have ever met, and some whom you have only heard of in passing, will be rooting for you to become impregnated.  This will be mildly confusing, since up to this point your entire life will have consisted of various people warning you not to become impregnated, lest your life be ruined.  Etiquette dictates that you ignore this glaring inconsistency.

The glazed and slightly manic looks on the faces around you and the constant mantra “Baaaaaby.  Baaaaaby.” are going to be unnerving.  You will grow concerned that this is the start of the zombie apocalypse, or possibly some sort of alien virus.  Your first instinct will be to discuss this with your husband, as he is, after all, your partner and helpmeet for all eternity.  Fight this impulse - not because you’re wrong, but because your new spouse probably isn’t going to take kindly to you referring to your in-laws as “the spore people.” 

Unless you actually want to become impregnated, I would suggest bribing an as-yet unattached sibling to become engaged in order to take the attention off of you.  As a long-term measure, you might want to consider adopting a wolverine or some other mostly-feral animal.  One of you may lose a limb or two, but you will develop a reputation for eccentricity that others will feel is incompatible with parenthood; with luck, they may even stop suggesting it altogether.