I felt compelled to make muffins today…I suppose I should keep mixes on hand for moments such as these. But, long story short, I didn’t have any fruit or anything in my “pantry,” but I did have all the ingredients for cornbread, so I decided to make my own little version of corn muffins.
Turning my mother’s cornbread recipe into muffins only yielded 11, so perhaps I was a *bit* too generous when scooping out the batter. (I remember fighting viciously with my cousin whenever we baked cookies as kids – she’d get really mad at me for making cookies that were too big…and also for eating the batter…I guess I was a glutton from a young age.)
I had a friend who was a big Kenny Rogers fan. Or maybe that’s overstating it a bit…Kenny Rogers was in an old movie she liked about a washed-up race car driver who becomes something of a role model for a bunch of rascally kids and so I decided to bake her Kenny Rogers’ corn muffins at one point (my favorite part: “He knows when to hold ’em and he knows when to fold ’em. He also knows how to make awesome corn muffins…”). I remember being kind of disappointed by the recipe though (my mom’s recipe is a good’un). I can’t remember how we stumbled upon the Men Who Look Like Kenny Rogers website (perhaps – and this is going back into the far-reaches of my memory – because there was a guy in our office building who, in fact, did look like Kenny Rogers…and even though she’s happily married, I think there was some sort of ongoing joke about how he made her heart go pitter-pat). So, long story short, even though I wasn’t particularly impressed by his corn muffin recipe (I’ve also never been to Kenny Rogers’ Roasters, so perhaps this is ignorance talking…it says it has the world’s greatest chicken…one would think his corn muffins wouldn’t be far behind…), I do think the website is worth a look.
I used to know a man in Fairbanks who could totally be on that website. I won’t name names…but he was obviously a lot older than me…and not a lot happens in Fairbanks in the winter, so when he offered me a ticket to a hockey game, I wanted to take it so I’d have something to do…but I wasn’t sure if he was being a dirty old man. I asked around at work and my fears were confirmed…luckily my office was closed on the day after Thanksgiving, but his was open so I was able to write him a nice little note and put the ticket in an envelope and run into his office building and say to the receptionist, “Can you give this to your boss who looks like Kenny Rogers?” and she said, “Sure. Do you want to talk to him?” and I said, “No, no…thanks anyway though…” and ran back out to the car.
Coincidentally, I was madly in love with the delivery boy at this office…and just thought I was going to die if he didn’t notice me someday. (I may have blogged about having to see the worst skiing movie in the entire world with him once…which would have been a magical occasion if it hadn’t been the worst skiing movie in the entire world…and how there was a clock on the wall and I looked over twice and it didn’t appear to be moving…and so I thought, “Phew! The clock is broken!” but then I looked again and it was actually moving – it was just that time was moving that slow…and then I had a panic attack in the bathroom during intermission and thought, “I can’t sit through another hour of this! I just can’t!” and how I was going to tell him I was ill and had to go home…but then realized that would make Monday at work awfully awkward…so I made myself sit through the second half…)
One more incident with this boy who was the apple of my eye for a brief, shining moment: my parents travel a lot. So at one point when I was living at home, they were gone for a week…and I didn’t really know anyone in Fairbanks, so I decided to just cook a whole bunch of stuff and – no pun intended – eat up the weekend that way. So…I went to the grocery store and bought well over $100 worth of groceries just for me. My cart was overflowing…and so I took everything out to the car and packed up the trunk. Then I went back inside because I wanted some wine…and, you know, Fairbanks is a small town. You run into people. So I think it’s important to note that never before had I ever run into Ryan at this grocery store…and I have been back numerous times since that day and I have never run into him at that grocery store again. But…Ryan was something of a health nut and he did not drink…and so as I was leaving the liquor department, bottle in hand, I remember thinking, “Wow, it would be really embarrassing if I ran into Ryan right now…” and then as if by magic – poof! – there he was. And I totally could have just said, “Oh, hi…” and kept walking…but being the neurotic mess that I am, I felt somehow obligated to explain myself…and so I started babbling on about how I had over $100 worth of groceries in my trunk and he just gave me an uncomfortable little smile.
I completely freaked out in the car and called my friend Jonathan who was in the car with his boyfriend at the time far, far away…so, unbeknownst to me, he put me on speaker phone as I regaled the humiliation of looking like a wino in front of the love of my life.
This is the same Jonathan who was my date to my cousin’s wedding with the reception at the bowling alley in Wisconsin…before the ceremony, my dad apparently saw me running around in a panic and said to Jonathan that someone will have to “tackle (me) and sedate (me)” before my own wedding…which I guess kind of makes sense in light of the whole humiliation-of-looking-like-a-wino-in-front-of-the-love-of-my-life-episode I just shared with you.