My new ride

I just bought the first brand new car of my life. A 2012 Honda Fit - which is the perfect name because it's amazing how much stuff you can fit into one of these things. The seats fold down and configure several different ways - and the hatchback helps for loading big stuff. I won't have to haul my bike around town with half of it hanging out the trunk!

Thanks to the excellent coaching skills of my brother Chris, I managed to get a screaming deal and they even gave me a decent sum for my old Pontiac. After 10 years, I'm happy to see that one go. No more funny looks when people see me pull up in a cherry red Grand Am with a spoiler on the back. That car never fit me - from the day I drove it to work and discovered it was the car Mary Kay ladies were currently getting as a stepping stone to the Pink Cadillac.

I'm all stocked up

With my eyes closed, these cinnamon gummy lips taste enough like cinnamon bears to staunch the mad cravings I get on occasion. They're the closest to the real thing I can find in the South and unfortunately they're only for sale at Valentine's.

So I hit the post-holiday discount aisle and grabbed enough to hold me over until June, maybe? I wish I could say this were a year's supply, but it's not. My cupboard isn't big enough for that.

As it is, I've sealed this in several sealed bags to keep it fresh and tucked away in the darkest corner of my kitchen. With any luck - and self control - I'll still be enjoying cinnamon gummy lips in the summer (and my friends can get a break from my endless "THERE ARE NO CINNAMON BEARS IN THE SOUTH!" rants.)

Valentine's Day

Mom always left little packets of candy and a love note on our pillows for Valentine's Day. We'd race home from school to see what she'd left. Because of her, Valentine's Day has always been about showing family and friends that I care . . . and I love that because I feel badly for the people who hate Valentine's when they're single.

I attempted homemade granola last night to give to my coworkers and friends. It's a little toastier than I'd like, but it still tastes okay. Next time will be better. I used a basic recipe but added my own touches (as usual - and not really smart when I'm doing something for the first time and I plan to give it away!) But it turned out fine. Lots of cinnamon and cardamom and a touch of molasses with the honey and brown sugar to sweeten it. Craisins, pecans and almonds, too. Oh my!

So long

Whitney Houston was one of the most-played artists in our house growing up. We'd do chores to "I Wanna Dance with Somebody." Mom would let us blast that record at full volume and we loved it.

I once did a lip synch in junior high to "I Wanna Dance." (It was dreadful. I had no moves.)

And here's a funny thing . . . growing up in very white, homogenous Provo, I really struggled with my crazy curls. I didn't know any African American women who might have helped me learn what to do with my hair (that only happened when I moved to Charlotte!)

But in the early days of her career, Whitney had amazing, unruly hair! (Watch the video above.)

I would study those pictures on her album cover and then try to replicate the look, figuring that if it was good enough for beautiful, famous Whitney, it would be fine for me. I never got it quite right, though . . . and I NEVER had the nerve to embrace it in public, opting instead for whatever flattened-teased-frizzed-out approximation of the straight-hair styles of the day I could muster.

I'm sorry to see her gone.

Showing off my finds

I've heard it's all the rage for people to post videos of their shopping hauls, so here's my latest:

I am powerless to resist a polyester shirt - even when I know it's going to be 100 and humid-to-heck in just a few months.

Feeding my Sunday Sugar Craving

On a chilly Sunday afternoon my church duties are done, my nap is over and I've practiced the accordion as long as my shoulders will allow, it's time to try a new cookie recipe. This one came from a Gooseberry Patch recipe book, but I tweaked it a bit. I'm incapable of sticking to a recipe 100% - even if I have all the right ingredients to do it by the book. Half the fun is the experimentation. And when it goes badly, nobody has to know!

These, by the way, did NOT go badly at all. They're amazing.

Brown Sugar-Apple Cookies
1 c. brown sugar, packed
2 eggs, beaten
1/2 t. baking soda
1 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. salt
1/2 c. shortening (I used 1/4 c. shortening and 1/4 c. cream cheese)
2 t. vanilla extract
2 c. all-purpose flour (I used 1 c. whole wheat flour, 1 c. white flour)
1 c. apples, cored, peeled and sliced (I used more - maybe 2 cups?)
Chopped pecans (These weren't in the recipe, but everything's better with nuts!)

Mix together all ingredients, stirring in apples last. Drop by teaspoonfuls onto ungreased baking sheets. Bake at 350 degrees for 8 to 10 minutes. Makes 3-1/2 to 4 dozen.

Play date

When I lived in Utah, I loved having my nephews (the nieces weren't old enough yet!) come for play dates and sleepovers. Out here in Charlotte, I fill the void with the occasional visit from kids I've come to know and love through church. On Saturday Claire and Ethan came. We set up the tent in my tiny living room and told stories and sang songs and ate trail mix.

When the tent got old (about 30 minutes later) we played Twister, which is always good for a few laughs.

It was Claire's second time to my condo and her little brother had the same reaction she did. He ran right in and asked if he could go upstairs to play. My one-bedroom abode doesn't have an upstairs, but Ethan was incredulous and I could see the wheels turning in his head: "We have a playroom upstairs. Everyone must."

I still remember the moment when my nephew (he was 3 or so at the time) was eating french toast at my kitchen table and he suddenly realized that I lived completely alone. No husband or kids or parents and siblings. It was completely outside of anything he'd ever known and I think it sort of blew his mind.

I'm all about turning childhood perception upside down.