The first date I ever went on with my husband wasn’t really our first date. But I’m gonna call it that for this story.*

We used to go to lunch a few times a week with another guy we worked with, but Mark wasn’t free that day. I’d just started a few weeks previously and we were all just getting to know each other. So we kind of looked at each other uncomfortably and said, well, uh, do you want to go to lunch anyway?

We went to Singha (which sadly closed a couple of years ago) on Clark Street for Thai. Before moving to Chicago I didn’t have a very adventurous palate. My mom had never taken me to an Asian restaurant at all during my childhood. So Chinese sweet-and-sour chicken was about all I’d done at that point. Turns out, though, I loooove Thai food. And it became a favorite lunch and dinner option for us over the years.

Scott’s favorite Thai dish has always been pad thai. When I think of pad thai, I think of Scott. (Well, when I think of satay, I think of him too. We always ordered that as an appetizer during our Thai meals.)

For whatever reason, though, I never thought about making pad thai at home. I made some tasty satay one time but since I never went for the pad thai, I guess it wasn’t on my mind.

Now that pasta has become a “red light” when it comes to gluten-free dining, I’ve been looking at other options and rice noodles have figured into a lot of the dishes. This one just looked so simple I couldn’t resist. I didn’t even realize how closely it resembles pad thai until he mentioned it during dinner. Now that I’ve tried this yummy concoction, I’m going to explore a more authentic version. I never knew what I was missing before.

He’s a smart cookie, my husband.

*Full disclosure: I already knew I liked him at this point so it may as well have been our first date. Our official first date consisted of a day browsing through Printer’s Row and dinner was at Ranalli’s, right next to my apartment, where he patiently looked through photos from my cousin’s graduation party I had just picked up from Walgreen’s.

Yes, you might point out, they are loaded with chocolate chips. Of course they taste good. But trust me. It’s more than that. Other than a small amount of brown sugar, those chips and the banana are the only sugar but I had no desire to add syrup to these. They were perfectly sweetened and a very nice texture. In fact, I’d probably back off on the number of chocolate morsels for the next batch. And not a smidgeon of the dryness that I get in a lot of the gluten-free recipes I try.

They really aren’t called Crack Pancakes, but, you know, I like it as a nickname. If you must, you can call them Banana and (Not)* Dark Chocolate Chip Pancakes.

*Because I only had the regular variety and I wasn’t willing to make a grocery store run just for one ingredient.

The Mediterranean version

My life feels rushed sometimes.

Well, all the time, really.

The weekdays are on a pretty strict schedule so that I can get to the gym, get to work, get to school to pick up the kiddo, get home to walk the dog, get the pets fed, get the people fed, get the dishes done and maybe the floors swept if time allows, get the kiddo focused on his homework, get some quality time with him afterward, get stories read, get teeth brushed, get jammies on and start all over again.

It’s not a bad life. But it can be an exhausting one.

When I hit Friday evening, I’m relieved. The pressure is off. The rushing is no longer needed. There’s all sorts of time to get the things done that I didn’t get done Monday-Friday.

But all of that open, unplanned time actually backfires on me. And oftentimes I get NOTHING done. I think I have plenty of time to organize my office, or start a house project, or help Dev with his class project research, or take a long walk to get in some weekend exercise, or make a decent meal. Yet by Sunday evening I’m scratching my head, wondering how on earth it happened to me again.

I’ve decided that I need to plan my weekends. Not down to the minute. But at least with some structure and a basic schedule so that I can check off some of those boxes on my to-do list. This weekend I didn’t exactly get a structure together, but I did accomplish some things, including some time in the kitchen this afternoon. I even pushed the spontaneity envelope and fulfilled my baking itch with a batch of apple breakfast cookies. The pizzas were planned, though, and even with a minor glitch that I won’t elaborate on (since it would make me look very silly), they came together nicely and delivered with the yummy.

I think I used a few too many apples

Dev’s Hawaiian version

Spring break is almost over, but I figured I’d better log the first part of it before too much more time goes by!

My son’s class was given a Game Changer award by the Detroit Pistons for the charitable work they’ve done in our community. That meant free tickets for everyone to last week’s game. So we booked a little spring break getaway to Auburn Hills. (Land of many hotels and parking lots.)

After relaxing for a few hours at in our comfy room after the drive (and sneaking in a swim for the kiddo), we took our seats at The Palace and chatted with some of the other families who took up the offer. Free seats, of course, aren’t very close to the floor so we had a long view of the action, but it was fun to watch. The only bad thing was the margin of defeat. I think the Raptors topped Detroit by at least 25 points.  Ah, well, at least we got to rock out to glimpse Luke Perry (yes, I’m serious) and rock out to Color Me Badd for ’90s night.

The next morning we headed to the Bald Mountain Recreation Area for a nice family hike. The weather was awesome. And the trail was a nice length. It was a short getaway, but made for some quality family time. (Except for the part where Scott was supposed to be navigating, but wasn’t. And you know nothing good came of that moment.)

Spring is supposed to be about optimism. But when the highs are barely in the 30s, it’s a decidedly more pessimistic feeling.

Still, we’ve had some sunny days. And I see some 40s and 50s in this week’s forecast. So I leave you with some of the spring-ish photos that have been bright spots over the past couple of weeks.

We like Finn. He came to us last summer all scrawny and a little unsure of how to be a pet after running wild and solo in the Cascade woods. He didn’t endear himself to me right away, I admit. But once we got the spraying under control, my heart melted a bit. And it unfroze even more after he stopped growling at me at random times. Plus, he lets Devin love him up whenever the kiddo pleases. He’s transformed from king of the jungle to fairly mellow feline over the past many months.

Apparently not quite as mellow as I thought, though. I discovered this last week when I took him to the vet. He’d been there before and, like a lot of kitties, he wasn’t exactly elated about the whole experience. (Lucy, on the other hand, would roll on her back contentedly when she visited. But she was a nut.) Still, Finn told the staff off a few times but he was generally cooperative.

This time? After a calm transport to the clinic and a cooperative stint in the waiting room, he turned into Screaming Cat of the Century. If the vet tech or the vet tried to touch him, the noises that ensued were just incredible. The resident clinic cats even gathered outside of his room to watch the spectacle of screeching, hissing, growling and yowling. Emitted in ALL CAPS.

Every time they let go of him to write something up or talk to me about some aspect of his health, he retreated under the exam table. When it came time to get him again the screeching resumed. For bloodwork they took him into the back offices and I could hear his stricken banshee sounds through the thick, wooden door.

When the exam was over and he was back in his carrier and all screeched out, I asked the vet tech whether other cats made that much noise. She hesitated a moment, then kindly said, “He’s pretty loud.” I was just relieved that we were the last appointment of the day and there weren’t any witnesses in the waiting room when we came out. What a drama king!

A half hour or so later, I came out of my office and stepped right into that battlefield.

It was epic.

Soliders lined up against beasts. (Some of those beasts being of the cuddly variety.) Each army heavily fortified. A helicopter on hand to spirit away casualties. I was impressed.

I suggested that he might want to capture some memories of the scene. And, conveniently, Grandma had just passed down her old digital camera to him. So he grabbed the camera and started to shoot. He got down on the floor for a close-up view and at one point he ran downstairs and returned with a step stool to get an aerial vantage point. None of which was suggested by amateur photographer Mom. He came up with those perspectives himself.

He may even have taken as long to photograph the scene as he did to set it up!

I’ve baked some stuff at this point. Corn muffins. Blueberry-banana muffins. The pie with chickpeas that eliminates the flour issue altogether. But I’ve relied on mixes too, for things like my pancakes this morning (pumped up with chocolate chips and almonds) and the one pizza crust I’ve attempted so far. I just get overwhelmed by the flour. So. Much. Flour.

When I saw this recipe and I just had to make it. But then I saw the flour mix they suggested. Millet flour. Sorghum flour. Tapioca starch. I don’t have any those, if you can believe it, because I have about nine different flours/starches taking up LOTS OF ROOM in my refrigerator. Just not those flours.

I was planning a trip to Meijer today so I thought I’d check for them. But, nope, nothing. I’ve determined that I either have to go to the health food store or shop online for a lot of this stuff. But still…where the heck am I going to put it anyway?

I was desperate, though. I wanted focaccia, damnit! Focaccia with red grapes nestled on top. So I thumbed my nose at the suggestion (sorry, Krumville Bake Shop) and grabbed my Bob’s Red Mill GF flour instead. Although this may not seem so rebellious, the flours in this mix are not the same flours as in the other mix. So I was throwing caution to the wind. Honestly I was!

My risk paid off! (The only thing I would have done differently is left it in to brown a bit more.) Otherwise, I can say that I’m very happy with my focaccia. Yes, I am. I’m interested to know how much different it would taste with the other flour mix and I may try that in the future. Still, this one was just dandy.

No, we aren’t of the ilk who can afford caviar. (And, um, yuck!) We are all about making our own fish eggs. Short-statured scientist in the house!

And while he was mixing up his red-hued concoction, I was baking up a very yummy gluten-free treat. This is called something along the lines of Chickpea Chocolate Chip Pie. You read that right. A pie made from garbanzo beans. This should not alarm you. Not at all. Because there is still chocolate in it. Can’t you see those Nestle Tollhouse Morsels? Chocolate chips and plenty of fiber. All is right with the world!

The last time we snagged snacks from Marie’s my husband said, “I snuck a bite of Devin’s dessert. I think I love Marie.” Her stuff, all of it, is that good. In fact, we stopped by around 1:30 and there was still a long line for lunch. We were thinking on our feet and opted to get our treats to go instead.

The first thing we did when we got home was break out the chocolate goodness! (Well, Devin did some odd thing involving wrapping up a book we’d just bought so he could pretend it was a gift. But after that, he was all forks!)

His was a double-chocolate concoction. It should also be noted that it was BIGGER than mine. Not that I’m the jealous type. (Well, yes I am.) Mine was a GF chocolate mint creation. I gobbled mine down and he saved half of his for later. We are now fully sated with chocolate, thank you very much.