I think I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with my computer. As I learned the intricacies of navigating the daily tight-rope of techie-ville, the techie path changed again.

I don’t think it’s all Me because I swear my computer has a mind of its own whenever it decides to have its snitty-fit at the same time I need it to be working well.

I know it’s not Me but my computer, who detests changes of any kind. This is especially obvious whenever Microsoft does its regular routine updates.

I had a wonderful desktop page with the ever changing balloon theme. These were huge balloons that held passengers and each scene was over a different locale. I had all my “shortcut” programs on the page and it was great to just tap a shortcut and bing, you were in that program. Email? In it. Internet? In it. Word? Yep, in it.

Then one day, after a Microsoft update, my Balloon page disappeared and with it, all my shortcuts.

What did I do? I painstakingly put the programs I use the most–their handy-dandy shortcuts–on my taskbar. AND please don’t tell me that is not the thing to do. At the moment, it is working well for me.

I tried to tell Microsoft that I didn’t need all their updates because all I have is my desk-top—no laptops, no notebooks, no smartphones, no anything else that needs to have all my programs shared among them. Besides, I am one of the rare breed that doesn’t want or need to be kept on an electronic leash.

For now, I’m navigating a very convoluted route to access my Word program so I can access my various documents. Did I mention that there is now a newer Word and that the older version is no longer supported by Microsoft’s helpful elves?

And to make matters worse—for a non-techie, like me—my phone server that provides the email service, will be doing a “changeover” to Google because Google provides a smoother access for all the devices a person can own.

But that’s not me. I only have a desk-top.

Wait–I do have my very basic cell phone that the man at the phone store called a “senior phone..” It has a flip-top; only sends and receives phone calls; receives text messages but takes forever to type back a reply. It takes forever because my cell phone doesn’t have a proper keyboard to type out a reply—just the phone pad. But my senior phone does have a decent camera as that’s what I’ve been using to record what I see on my power-walks.

I was assured that the changeover will provide me with a gazillion gigabytes plus whatever goes beyond that. I won’t be using this mega jumbo-power.

I’m not a “gamer.” I watch my movies on my TV screen. I play my music on my stereo. However, I have used my computer to play my CDs when I finally found my music again after Microsoft did one of its updates. My basic cellphone serves its purpose of being a phone—not used for internet or games.

But I guess, like a number of us, slightly-out-of-step with the rest of the with-it generations, we will always be slightly-ot-of-step. I/m sure my grandkids view me the same way I use to look at my grandparents. My grandparents lived through a lot of changes: from the “party-lines” on a wall-phone that was “cranked-up” to get an outside line to a desk phone with a private line; automobiles that no longer needed to be cranked-up to be started; the arrival of television for home entertainment in addition to the familiar radio. In her lifetime, my Grandma did witness space travel to the moon.

I do have a toe dipped in the ever-changing techie world. Yes, I am a “dinosaur” when it comes to techie-power on my basic equipment. I would love to have the option of keeping to the basics and not being super-sized when I don’t need it or want it.

I do welcome changes but please, not now when I have a finicky computer who loves to throw tantrums.

The pandemic is both good and bad. The bad part–we are all aware of and know how to protect ourselves against the results. The good parts are where we find out what kind of person we are to cope. Does that make sense?

I find that under stress conditions, I bake. I can cook too but if I ever went into the profession, I’d be the one who produces the desserts and baked goods. My sister is the true cook. She can make anything— I mean anything taste great and that probably includes sprouts and old boots. But back to the good points of this pandemic.

Google search makes available a number of very interesting recipes with fascinating stories behind them. And reading mysteries, murder and mayhem, there are often baked goods I never heard of. One such pastry originates from Poitou-Clarentes, now a part of Novelle-Aquitaine. Broye du Poitou is a buttery shortbread-like ginormous cookie. The dough is rolled or pressed into a 1/2 inch thick circle, brushed with a beaten egg, sprinkled with sliced almonds and baked on a cookie sheet. When this pastry is ready to be served, the honoured guest is the one who thumps his fist into the centre so the Broye du Poitou is broken into different size pieces. Here is the website https://www.tarasmulticulturaltable.com/broye-du-poitou-poitiers There is another version that calls for Apricot Brandy https://fortheloveofbutter.blog/2020/08/30/broye-du-poitou

Because most of my doughnut sources had temporarily closed due to you-know-what, I felt I had conquered my doughnut addiction. Not true. One of the coffee bars down the street from me had continued with their window service of fresh roasted coffee and one day, provided the delectable Yonni’s doughnuts. There is nothing worse than flaunting Yonni’s in the showcase window. It is impossible for a doughnut addict to not kook in the window when passing by. It is even a worst fate to read in the mysteries, murder and mayhem books about “Castagnole.” What is that, you may ask. Castagnole is an Italian fritter made especially at Carnival time. By the time I had finished reading this book, Yonni’s was forgotten as my brain had fixated on Castagnoles. Here’s a recipe for the delectable little fried round balls that reminded me of upscale doughnut holes. https://www.recipesonthego.com/recipe/castagnole

One final delicious “treasure.” This one was mentioned briefly in a radio interview and prompted me to do a search. “King Arthur’s Almond Flour Brownies” is a delicious gluten-free recipe with the most chocolate-y flavour. To a full-fledged chocoholic, this recipe was one that will forever be part of my chocolate recipe collection. I wasn’t sure if almond flour was the same as ground almonds because this was what I used. The brownies turned out to be a dark chocolate, light as a feather, moist cake-like brownie. (https://www.kingarthurbaking.com/recipes/almond-flour-brownies-recipe) However, if you’re looking for a dark chocolate brownie that’s more dense, this recipe isn’t for you. For the final decadent touch, I scattered a few mini-Lindt dark chocolate pieces on top of the brownie as it cooled on the rack—spread when melted. Try not to devour the entire pan and remember to share with those in your safe bubble.

I grew up in a house that had a huge kitchen. Family, food and friends were always a huge part of it. As adults, it is no surprise that our family and friends still gather in the kitchen. During this time of pandemic, things change but we humans adapt. Eventually we will return to a life before Covid-19. For now, we’ll cocoon and stay safe in our small social bubble—a bubble that allows us to enjoy the Broye du Poitou, Castagnoles, King Arthur Almond Flour Brownies and whatever other tasty treats that pops up in books we read, things we hear or unfamiliar pastries we see on our screens.

Harry Goldman and Walter Young carefully carried their big mugs of dark roasted coffee to Charlie Swanson’s corner table, already covered with sections of the daily newspapers. Charlie hastily pushed the newspapers into a wobbly pile to make room for his coffee-mates.

“Well, you two are early today,” he greeted them with a smile.

“I just came from a visit to my doctor and decided I needed a large cup of caffeine,” declared Henry.

“Uh-oh,” Charlie commiserated. “Was this the visit where you found out you had to stop eating whatever it was you enjoyed and eat more of whatever it was you detested?”

“Not quite, Charlie, but very close,” Henry sighed.

“I noticed you only got coffee this morning and skipped your Apple Danish,” Walter added sympathetically.

“Is that why you refrained from getting your Almond Croissant?” Henry smiled. At that moment, Muriel Long and Charlotte Pickles plonked their cups of cappuccino along with a side plate containing two dark chocolate fudge brownies beside Henry. The ladies each pulled up a chair from an empty adjacent table and made themselves comfortable.

“Would anyone like a piece of our fudge brownies?” Muriel offered. Henry reluctantly shook his head. Walter sipped his coffee and eyed the brownies, then slowly shook his head as well.

“Charlotte and I just finished our energetic class of Golden Zumba at the rec centre. Our instructor is someone my granddaughter’s age and very good at getting all the senior ladies revved up and moving!”

“That’s why Muriel and I are building up our sugar reserve since we danced it all off in the class!” Charlotte laughed as she took a bite of her brownie. “More for us to enjoy since all of you refused our generous offer.

“Henry was telling us about his doctor’s appointment this morning,” Charlie explained.

“Oh no,” the ladies chorused in sympathy. “Is this where you get that dreaded news that you have to stop eating. . .” Muriel began, but was interrupted by Henry’s huge sigh.

“I always thought that ‘retirement’ was our Golden Years, you know, like those cheezy commercials we use to see when we were still working,” Walter commented.

“I know what you mean Walter,” Charlotte agreed. “I bet far too many retirees end up with health problems that takes care of the rosy picture of a carefree retirement life.”

“So, my friend, what joys do you have to cut to prolong your life?” Walter bluntly asked. Before Henry could spew forth the list, Muriel interrupted.

“Is this a low salt/no-salt diet? Or is it no red meat and no breads and no. . . .”

“Oh my god,” Charlotte exclaimed, “what’s left to eat that’s palatable?”

“Not much” Henry said glumly.

“Now, it’s not that bad,” Charlie pointed out. “The best thing to happen would be you’d lose a few pounds which is always good for the heart. A visit to a reputable dietician would set you on the right path with the kind of herbs and seasoning you can use that’s not salt and other sources of protein that doesn’t have to be red meat. But you have to remember one thing. Cutting back on certain foods doesn’t mean never eating them again. It just means you eat it occasionally like once a week instead of every day. You’ll probably notice a drop in your grocery bill as well as a boost in energy but you’ll be too busy to worry about snacks and bad eating habits.”

“Even I can live with that,” Muriel murmured. Charlotte and Walter both nodded their heads in agreement. Henry thought about Charlie’s wise words and voiced his opinion. “It’s the thought of giving up so much of what I enjoy, but small amounts rather than an excess is a good start. I like the idea of consulting with a dietician as that would steer me along the right food paths.”

“Nikki can walk you three times a day,” Walter grinned mischievously–Nikki being the Goldman’s energetic cockapoo.

“Oh my, Henry–you’ll be a healthier, thinner person in a few months,” Muriel encouraged cheerfully.

“I read this article in the Huffington Post about all these people who switched to a healthier lifestyle and after six months were able to reduce the amount of meds they had to take daily. That alone would be a great incentive to live healthier,” Charlotte reported to her coffee-mates.

“Well, we’re all here to cheer you on, Henry.” All his coffee friends lifted their cups in a toasting motion, sipped the last drops of their coffee and made moves to gather their things to leave. Charlie packed up the sections of his newspapers he wanted to keep and bundled them into his shopping bag. He paused and spoke, “Retirement is still fun but who said it would be easy? Life moves along its own mysterious path with its usual bumps and pitfalls. I suspect it’s to ensure a person enjoys what he/she has and not get too complacent about it.”

Giving them a jaunty wave, he gave his usual parting, “Enjoy your day, my friends,” then added impishly, “remember to ease up on the red meat, the salt, the pastries and all the other good stuff. . . . .”

                            ” Good coffee is a pleasure.  Good friends are a treasure.”—-Anonymous

Birthdays are like jelly-beans—they’re colourful, fun, numerous and tasty. When we were younger, birthdays meant a happy day filled with laughter, family, friends and food–especially cake. Being young, we would anxiously count the years to 16 and our driver’s license; 19 and a chance to cast a vote; 21 and finally considered an “adult.”

Being older, we begin to look at birthdays a little differently. There’s a bit of tension when the 30s, 40s and 50s pass. Suddenly, you find yourself in the 60s and 70s. Where did the years go?

I have a different perspective. My mantra is “You’re only as old as you feel.” And, I feel like I’m still in my 40s–well, okay, maybe some days early 50s. It really depends whether I had a good night’s sleep and my nibble of dark chocolate.

Birthdays are an event that comes around every 365 days; 366 days if it’s a leap year and this year happens to be one. Who decided that we are older each 365/366 days? Why are we supposed to age? Whatever happened to being “young at heart?”  Hey, as long as one has good health, financially stable, a happy outlook and knowing you can do anything you want, (as long as it’s legal)–what more can a person need or want?

There’s so many things to tackle and not enough years to do it all. So far I have tried Jazzercise, Hawaiian Dancing. Burlesque-Fit, Line Dancing, Zumba, Nuline Dancing, Ukulele and Guitar–all of which trains the memory as one moves to music or play the music. It’s been fun and still is as a number the dance classes are social events as well as fun classes.

I firmly believe that we reach a stage in our life where you must enjoy what you have while you can. But one thing for sure, you have to keep moving, no matter what. I intend to keep exercising my body and mind; enjoying my family and friends; relishing every moment of being alive and knowing there’s more good stuff around the next bend. Remember birthdays are only a number and if you’re feeling younger than what the number says, then for goodness sakes, celebrate and enjoy!

It’s been a blast for me the last two weeks as I embrace another birthday and thankful I have family and friends to share the moment. Happy Birthday to all my January friends–keep moving and dive into that bucket list now!

 

I had this sudden yen for peanut butter cookies—a plain, simple, home-made peanut butter cookie.

So I dug out my collection of cookie cookbooks and did some quick research. Some books didn’t even have a plain, old-fashion peanut butter cookie, but they did have the cookie dressed up with chocolate chips, orange peel, extra roasted peanuts and all other combinations using chocolate, dried fruit and crunchy nuts.

The first recipe used up most of the jar of Adams Natural Crunchy Peanut Butter. It was a jar I bought by mistake as  I had reached for the Adams Creamy. The drawback with Adams peanut butter is that it requires mixing the peanut oil back into the peanut butter before it can be used. The recipe also called for 2 cups of all-purpose flour, but I decided to mix some whole-wheat, ground flax and wheat germ into the mixture as well. I was able to scoop spoonfuls of dough into a ball and flatten with a fork. When this batch of cookies cooled enough to sample, I noted it was a solid cookie that would travel well in a deep pocket, along with a bag of trail mix—perfect for a few hours of hiking or a power walk. It also needed more peanut butter as it barely tasted like a peanut had rolled through.

After looking over more recipes, I decided to add a bit here, omit a bit there and increase the peanut butter. Hubby doesn’t eat this kind of cookie and I had to eat whatever I made so it had to be super tasty.

The next recipe I found had fine coconut and dried cranberries which I omitted. I also generously increased the amount of peanut butter from its original 1/2 cup to a full cup. The results were a slightly softer cookie, tasted like it had peanut butter in it and was addictive–not because it was tasty, which it was, but because the size and shape felt good in my hand and with a glass of milk or a cup of coffee, it was almost perfect.

Today, I tried one more recipe and this is the one I’ll return to next time I get the urge for a good peanut butter cookie. These cookies spread big, were crispy on the edges and slightly soft in the centre. There was a distinctive taste of peanut butter and when these cookies were baking, the kitchen smelled like roasting peanuts. And the amazing thing was there were no dark chocolate chips or chunky chocolate in these cookies—simply a generous addition of a creamy-style peanut butter.  To burn off those darn calories and the extra five pounds of “research”, I now power walk twice a day but it was worth every single bite of those 50+ peanut butter cookies.  What we must do to scratch a yen. . . . .’til the next time.

 

At my house, Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas unless there was something under the tree that held dark chocolate tucked inside its wrapped package. This Christmas, Hubby and I hit the jackpot.

A few years ago, we received a box of dark chocolate covered cherries with such a deliciously appealing picture on the box, that our brain had already signalled our mouths there was a treat heading its way. And, it didn’t disappoint—that distinctive taste of dark chocolate; that spurt of liqueur bathing a plump cherry; that satisfying melding of dark chocolate, liqueur and a juicy cherry was absolutely heavenly.

After that, when we saw a box of chocolate covered cherries, we treated ourselves to it. But the disappointment was too painful to describe. Let me just say that the dark chocolate was bland and waxy; the syrup was too icky sweet and not a liqueur AND the cherry was a pitiful wizened piece of dubious fruit. After those disappointments, whenever we spotted a potential box of cherry treats, we stayed away—mentally kicking ourselves that we never made note of the brand of chocolate cherries  given to us, way back when.

Last week, I saw an unpretentious sealed foil bag with a clear window, showing the supposedly extra-dark chocolate cherries in liqueur, wrapped in its red and silver foil. I grabbed a bag. On Christmas, Hubby opened the sealed bag and immediately our noses sighed with pleasure as the dark chocolate scent of liqueur wafted out. Immediately,  our brains zinged the message to our mouths that something great would be coming. And this time, it didn’t disappoint.

Our mouths bit into a decadent piece of extra-dark chocolate that immediately squirted a shot of liqueur that had soaked a plump, juicy cherry. This is how a dark chocolate cherry should be always. And yes, I have made note of the brand. Thank you, Witor’s IL Boero–may you always prosper and keep making these wonderful Italian chocolate cherries. It made our Christmas even more special. . . .