on missing birthdays

I don’t hate much. In fact, I’m one of those optimists that manages to see the teeny tiny glimmers of hope in generally pretty awful people even when I’m trying not to. Current exceptions being Donald Trump and fire ants but let’s get into that once both pests are no longer affecting us, shall we?

But if I had to place ‘hate’ on one thing in my life, it would be missing birthdays. A learned behavior I’m sure, I have a really tough time not physically being there for loved one’s birthdays. OK, anyone’s birthday really. I was looking at the calendar and realized that Finn may spend his 4th birthday with a dog sitter this coming July and actually felt a pang of guilt 4 months ahead of the date for goodness sake.

Birthdays are big in my family. We’ve chatted about this in previous posts (examples here and here), specifically referring to my physiological need to be present at any and all family birthdays, something I’m trying to adapt to living a few states away now. But as each day approaches, I can’t help but feel a little FOMO (fear of missing out non-millennial readers) for “missing” another birthday.

So on this sunny March 12th spring (ok, high of 82 spring) morning, my body may be out avoiding the fire ants in the garden and possibly hitting the pool this afternoon, but my heart is back in Illinois celebrating my mom’s 65th birthday.

And yes, despite the fact that stranger’s assume she’s also my dad’s daughter sometimes, she’s 65 today!

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And based on that last photo, I’m starting to think she may care that Matt’s not there a little more than me. Geesh!

So while I can’t be there to enjoy the delicious looking birthday/St. Patrick’s day themed cake that Jake picked out for mom last night, thanks to technology I was able to sing along and watch her blow out the candles from afar.

I’m blessed to have a mom that squeals with as much excitement for scone and a cup of coffee as she does for a new sweater and cookbook, the former being what you can look forward to the next time you visit.

Happy Birthday, Mom! Here’s a photo of a cake from three years ago. We love you!

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The little things 

Do you know how I know my husband loves me? Well hopefully more reasons than I’m going to list today, but I’m a sucker for the little things so let’s focus on that today.

Disclaimer: The following interpretation is based on more than 6 years of close observation of a significant other who is the type A+ to my type A-. 

It’s not often that I get a chance to meet Matt at the gym on a workday. He prefers to go earlier in the afternoon and my work schedule limits me to short evening runs around the neighborhood and weekend mornings for maneuvering meat heads at the gym. Occasionally, our schedules overlap and I have a chance to workout at the same time. And by that I simply mean we enter the facility together and leave together with occasional winks and head nods in between. But on the rare occasion I have a chance to invade his gym time, you can almost guarantee I have not prepared a bag to make the transition. That’s where a quick text list of essentials and a thoughtful husband comes in. But not just any husband. One that will make absolutely sure you have everything you could possibly need, whether you are walking into spin class or the Tour de France.

Exhibit A:


Simple enough right? Not for the well-prepared man. Because this man I married will take no chance that I will not have enough supplies in that bag to make it through a light workout, or climb Mt. Kilimanjaro.

  • Here were yesterday’s findings:  
  • 3 pairs of underwear to choose from (because unfortunately I’ve explained in detail several times how workout underwear is different than work underwear which is different than working around the house underwear, amiright girls?)
  • Two sports bras (if you don’t know me intimately I should clarify that I clearly only need one for support)
  • Socks (great addition for the girl that typically forgets those)
  • Spandex shorts, running shorts and wunder under crops
  • Nikes
  • Blue Lulu top
  • Two pairs of headphones
  • 4 hair ties
  • Deodorant (thanks babe)
  • Snacks (nobody wants to make bad decisions in Target following a good workout)

Feeling far more prepared than If I had packed my own gym bag especially in the perspiration area, I walk out of the locker room with a smile on my face and spot Matt doing some crazy exercise across the gym wearing the male version of my exact outfit. Mind you, the outfit he just chose less than an hour earlier.

I give him a head nod. He shakes his head.

Later, I bring up the twinning scenario (one we are all too familiar with) and learn he picked out his outfit even after packing my bag. I giggle and mentally check a point in my head for times my type A+ guy pulled a type A- Sarah move.

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(NOTE: photos is from a previous matching gym trip)

 

 

On snowbirds

What if I told you that all of the defensive driving you learned over the years would finally pay off? All those times your mom reached for the steering wheel, pumped her imaginary brake and claimed we were all going to die when you turned 15. All those years navigating around ‘tourists’ who swerved anytime they heard a Chicago cabbie honk in the loop?

Well I’m here to tell you that it’s all been leading up to this moment.

Season has officially begun in Sarasota.

Yes folks, the snowbirds are back.

How do I know, you ask?

Well besides the increased frequency of observed recreational vehicles towing sedans with Ohio license plates and two-to-four beach cruisers adorning the front grills along 75 south, one can safely assume that in the two weeks following Christmas, the majority of seasonal residents have escaped the cold and ventured south for the winter (here’s your first bird reference of this post).

I, on the other hand, mark the official start of season at the date and time in which I witness my first old lady cross 5 lanes of traffic to make a left turn against a red light and somehow make it through without a scratch, dent or any awareness that the aforementioned event happened.

In this case it was 5:24 p.m. on Tuesday, January 12th.

Speaking of snowbirds, we actually had a woman walk into the office the other day and ask where along the Bayfront she should go to view the snowbirds she kept hearing about.

True story.

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I don’t know why we call them snowbirds. Squirrels seem like a better fit to me. You see like squirrels, (for those of you living in the city, squirrels are the small gray or brown rodents you may remember scurrying across the Quad in college) older generations manage to narrowly escape death by car far more often than most other creatures. Red lights. Roundabouts. Every single lane at once on the road. This is where you’ll find them most frequently.

But they shouldn’t be completely categorized as a nuisance. Instead, here are just a few reasons we should be thankful for snowbirds this season.

  • They teach us to slow down. Literally. It took me 4 minutes to walk from the entrance of the gym to the locker room because I felt too guilty to pass the sweet old lady in front of me Saturday morning.

You rock in spin class, Gloria!

  • They remind us that every day is Saturday when you’re retired.

Check out Suzie and Bob over there just hammering 2-for-1 Martinis at Bonefish on a Tuesday.

  • They get your children safely across the street, they drive cancer patients to treatment and they fill important jobs that make an economic impact on the region.

Perhaps Phyllis can make the best recommendation for a ‘supportive’ bra at Victoria’s Secret, given her years of experience and eagerness to not let gravity get her down. 

  • And they make sure all that defensive driving you practiced finally has it’s shining moment while going 75 miles an hour on the Interstate.

You are of course going 75. George? He’s going 40.

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The year of the alligator

I fielded some requests over the holidays to get back to blogging. And while it’s never my intention to go on a blog hiatus, just like skipping a few workouts, sometimes its hard to get back into the swing of things after some time off.

It’s a good problem to have, being too busy to write witty posts about how busy you are, yet keeping in mind that many of your readers have small children so your version of busy is likely laughable to them. You can see then, how one might get overwhelmed with where to start back up. But like pulling off a bandaid after you burned yourself for the fifth time with your stupid curling wand, sometimes you just have to get back to it.

It’s kind of weird, starting off 2016 without any sort of resolutions or big goals. It’s normally around this time when I tell myself I’m going to read more (never do), get organized (Finn just ate another pair of my pajama shorts), and pre-plan out our meals for the week (does anyone actually do this?).

So instead the normal resolutions, I’m focusing on faith and contentment with the hope that this strategy provides me more time to share fun, mindless updates with you. I think we all know those are more enjoyable to read than the deep philosophical journey of a newlywed couple living in paradise with a super needy giant dog anyway.

But before we get into the fun, mindless stuff, I’d like to share with you the way in which our family rang in the new year, which started out quite opposite of fun and mindless.

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They say you’re supposed to call upon alligators when you’re in a crunch emotionally, or are unclear about how to heal yourself, or if you’re having disturbing dreams. They say these creatures strike clarity into our lives when we call on them.

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Well I can assure you that neither Matt or I ordered up any clarity, but nonetheless we ended up with about 6 feet of it at our front door New Years Eve.

Growing up in the midwest, when you heard scratching at your front door in the middle of the night, you assumed one of two things as the culprit: opossum or raccoon. Small chance it was a tee-peeing teenager or drunk college student, but most of the time a mammal was to blame.

So imagine our surprise circa 2:30 a.m. when we heard a scratch at the front door followed by a loud baroo from our good at watching not so great at guarding Finn. It’s normally at this point when you open the front door to see what the commotion is about. Fortunately for all of us, Matt was in charge of checking it out and noticed what he thought was an armadillo out the front window. We’ll leave my habit of not latching the front door for another post, but I think we can all agree it’s a good thing I wasn’t the last one to let the dog out that night.

The remaining hour or so was spent graduating from shock, awe and perspiration, to feelings of concern and general empathy for what seemed to be a very dumb alligator who managed to get stuck on an open porch just steps away from the exit. You know you’re an animal lover when you feel sorry for something with little to nothing ahead of it on the food chain.

Sure we’re familiar with alligators having spent the last two years in Florida, but none daring enough to knock on our front door nor one so eager to start the New Year’s party a little early.

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So while Matt observed our new friend, who I named Amelia in an effort to make her less threatening, knowing full well that only a drunk dude would attempt to make a break through the small fence posts instead of the clearly marked exit, I called a wildlife rescue number half-expecting them to laugh us silly midwesterners off the phone.

Thank you for calling Florida Wildlife Rescue. If you have an immediate alligator threat, please press 1.

(giggles uncomfortably and presses 1)

Within 20 minutes, an alligator trapper was in our driveway and Amelia seemed to have made his or her way back to the pond behind our house. Matt later informed me (now holed up in the back bedroom hiding the bait) that the trapper had little more than a flashlight in hand and a Joliet area code.

It’s not uncommon for them to try and come into your house if you have a dog.

He says.

(picking my jaw up off the floor)

No way. 

I said.

alligator, front door, swiss mountain dog, florida

Ladies and gentlemen of the Home Owner’s Association, I’d like to submit the above photograph as evidence of this crazy alligator’s attempt to enter our residence on the eve of New Year’s Eve 2016. 

So you may be asking if it’s safe to visit us in this so-called paradise yet?

The answer is maybe.

While Amelia hasn’t come back on the porch since her initial attempt, we’ve seen her out back with her amputee arm waving arrogantly on a few occasions since.

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Matt also observed a fishing pole and noose wielding man out near the pond late last week but so far the only other news we’ve heard came via email today:

Hi Sarah,

There was another issue with an alligator. I am not sure if it was the same alligator. I am assuming it is because it was near your home. I have not heard whether they were able to trap it or not. I will see if I can find out.

So if you need us in the immediate short-term, we’ll be peering out the front window and sprinting between ponds throughout the neighborhood.

Happy New Year!

 

Let’s Talk About Christmas Lists

I have a love/hate relationship with Christmas Lists. You see, I’ve always enjoyed the tradition of paging through catalogs around the table after Thanksgiving, each family member attempting to jog memories of all the things they desperately needed throughout the year but can’t seem to remember when the blank yellow pad of paper is in front of them.

Who doesn’t need a new pair of fuzzy LLBean slippers? I could use another blanket for the couch. One can never have enough cable knit throws, can they? Nope. Especially when one lives in a tropical climate. 

let's talk about christmas lists, christmas ideas,

I have a love/hate relationship with Christmas lists because my love language is gift giving. I get it from my Nana. And while I love the idea of getting someone something that is written on their Christmas list, there’s an internal struggle I have each year around this time between buying what’s on the list and buying what’s NOT on the list.

Yep. I’m that girl. The girl who wrecks her brain for weeks trying to come up themes for everyone’s gifts, crafty and homemade additions to the gifts or, if the Christmas magic is really with her, the perfect gift for the person who doesn’t necessarily know what the perfect gift is. That, my friends, is the spirit of Christmas if you’re a gift giver at heart. Well, that and the birth of Jesus, but the Magi have that one covered.

And depending on your family and the members in it, you may fall on one side or another when it comes to gift lists, too.

There’s the mom who stuffs her purse with various iterations of other people’s lists but never really manages to end up with anything on hers. It’s ok though. Stick with anything that smells good, feels soft or keeps her warm, preferably in a neutral shade and you’re good to go.

Or the older nephew who unlike any other 9 year-old in town, tells you he doesn’t really need anything this year.

Or the sister who every day leading up to Christmas is very interested in what’s on every other family member’s list yet only manages to list one gift on her own. And a very small one at that.

And if we’re talking about lists, I’d be remiss to not mention the dad who if he’s anything like my dad, Murfs up any holiday with his version of a wish list. You may remember the years he spent asking for a conga drum so he could…

“…jam at some gigs with some cool cats.” 

Or the Father’s Day request for the book, Five Strides on the Banked Track: The Life and Times of the Roller Derby

So I guess I shouldn’t be surprised then when I received an email from my dad with the subject line: “Dad’s xmas list add-on” a link that led us here.

Just a houseboat add-on to this year’s list huh, Murf? Let’s not discuss the barriers to gifting the aforementioned item such as loan restrictions, satellite installation for his DVR habit or the simple fact that he still resides in the Midwest. Those things aside, for the past 275 days or so, I’ve been reminded about the houseboat interest via text message and in conversation. The barriers to the now digitally recorded wish list item are endless yet the drive still seems to be there.

The gift of list making is strong with this one.

So I remind you as you open your Christmas presents this year, consider the gift giver’s intention before you scoff at those bracelets you assumed were napkin rings.

After all, as I was told my great-grandfather used to say each time this year,

We all got all too G*d D*mn much. 

Happy Holidays!

 

Cookies and Catch Up

Great news, guys. The Murphalewski Bed and Breakfast just wrapped four straight weeks of out-of-town guests. That means 7 midwesterners are entering the winter season a little bronzer than usual and many local restaurant staffers here in Sarasota are actually starting to think I have friends. It’s a win-win!

Now you may be asking if I’m glad the four-week rush is over. Truth is, I loved having our friends and family stay with us. Each visit came with a reminder of how blessed we are to have friends and family that love us enough to leave crappy weather behind and sit on the beach all day. We realize our location may benefit us this time of year but regardless, we appreciate the time and effort (and flight delays) spent coming to visit.

So what have I been doing with all my free time since the last houseguest left on Sunday? Baking cookies of course.

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It seems like the only thing I have to show for the last 4 weeks, aside from the slightly increased body fat percentage, are pictures of cookies long ago eaten by co-workers.

It’s not like me to leave you hanging over a holiday weekend without some sort of ode to a sweet treat on the blog, but I’ve been sidetracked. You see, I’ve been trying to come to grips with the fact that our entire shopping district has been lit up like Rockafeller Center on Christmas Eve since October 24th. I’ve been wrecking my brain trying to figure out in what world this is acceptable but then I remembered a saying my dad always says this time of year.

You know, this might be the last nice day we have to put the Christmas lights up so we better get to it. 

Wait. I’m sorry. He usually waits until an ice storm is in the vicinity around December 20th to say that. And they still live in Illinois so…

So in spite of the extremely prematurely lit palm trees and unseasonably hot temperatures, I thought I’d share a few photos from the last four weeks to catch you up.

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but how about that sweet lady in the background?

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IMG_5484sugar cookies, royal icing, baking, breakfast at tiffany's cookies, bridal shower, dessert, tiffany blue sugar cookiesIMG_5482sugar cookies, royal icing, baking, breakfast at tiffany's cookies, bridal shower, dessert, tiffany blue sugar cookiesAnd now you know what my photostream looks like. I’ve got two weeks until Thanksgiving and our next visitors so if you need me I’ll be either running or napping in preparation. Happy Friday!

 

Of these things, I’m fairly certain

There comes a point in a thirty-something’s life in which the random things she’s heard, learned, experienced, seen, tasted and smelled over the first third of her life finally start to stick with her. After all, you rarely hear a twenty-something referred to as ‘set in his or her ways.’ No, this art takes years to perfect. If you don’t believe me, go ahead and call up your grandparents for a lesson. Don’t text them. Don’t email them. Pick up the phone and call them. Heck, by now your parents should be as set as a Ronco Showtime Rotisserie Platinum so you might as well ask them while you’re at it.

What was I getting at again?

Oh yes. Life lessons.

Up until this point, you’ve let these observations float in and out of your life without taking any ownership of them. Sure, you’re brand loyal to a degree, but you’re a millennial for goodness sake and you better believe that you are going to be flexible and adapt to the ever-changing world around you, right? Kind of like the way you’ve shifted every time Apple launches a new iOS or Facebook changes their newsfeed.

And then you turn thirty. And all of a sudden the phrases you use to utter in your 20s like pregaming or late night bars are replaced with let’s just have everyone over for a dinner party or do I have to put on real clothes or can I go in this? 

So today I present you a list of things I’m fairly certain of:

  • That I will never get all of my personal identification documents to have the same last name again. Ever. This weekend I nearly had to provide a retinal scan at The Gap to pay with a (new chip-encrypted) card that still listed me as Murphy because it sat in my wallet next to a drivers license that lists me as Zalewski. Meanwhile, my handsome yet mute in these types of situations husband waits patiently as I toss two debit cards, two credit cards and a blood donor card at our friendly cashier to prove I’m not a spy.

  Oh you have a Costco card? That will work just fine.

  • That there’s no way our dog proves my hypothesis about animals taking after their owners. Nope not our guy. So different, he and I.

  

  • That a landscape that includes pumpkins and palm trees will always be weird, but never having to wear socks will always be awesome.

  • That heckling is an art form maybe moms are just too sweet for it.

  • That if pumpkin obsession is a real addiction affecting basic girls everywhere, you can crown me pumpkin princess of autumnville. I actually felt a nervous swell when I realized I was down to my last can of pumpkin this weekend for a french toast recipe. And when my audible gasp was met with a side eye from Matt, I yelled, ‘there’s a shortage, you know!’ 

So I’ve got that going for me.

And because nearly everything I’m certain of this time of year relates to pumpkins, I’ll leave you with a recipe for pumpkin french toast sure to satisfy your cravings. That is, if you can get your hands on the limited supply!

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Pumpkin French Toast (recipe adapted from Cooking Classy)

  • 3/4 C almond milk (I didn’t have regular milk but by all means use it if you have it)
  • 1/2 C pure pumpkin
  • 4 large eggs
  • 2 TBL brown sugar
  • 1 tsp vanilla
  • 1 tsp cinnamon
  • 1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
  • 1/4 tsp ground ginger
  • 6-8 slices multigrain bread (or challah or texas toast)
  • Butter (for griddle)

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Heat a cast iron skillet to medium heat. In a large bowl, whisk almond milk, pumpkin, eggs, brown sugar, vanilla and spices together. Set aside.

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Prepare skillet with butter. Dip bread into pumpkin mixture until saturated. Cook on both sides until browned, repeating butter before each slice.

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Serve with maple syrup or honey and dust with powdered sugar.

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Enjoy!

How to ruin a perfectly good batch of pumpkin scones

You want to know something funny about these pumpkin spice scones?

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I threw them in the trash shortly after taking these photos.

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Why? Because pumpkin is the spice of life people. Well, specifically, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and cloves are the actual spices of life in the fall but you get the idea.

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Truth is, these just didn’t have enough spice. And shame on me for not following my own recipe and trusting a pumpkin spice blend from anywhere other than Penzey’s to give me the proper amount of spice to my pumpkin.

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I think the lesson we all learned in this experiment (or that I learned so you don’t have to) is not to substitute when it comes to baking, and especially when it comes to those fragrant little spices that fill your kitchen with autumn awesomeness.

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The good news is, unlike my batch, I have a recipe that won’t let you down. Just believe me when I say you should take the time to individually mix your spices and not rely on a shortcut spice blend, even if it does come from a reputable organic store that rhymes with bader moes.

Pumpkin Spice Scones with Pumpkin Glaze

  • 2 C flour
  • 1/3 C brown sugar
  • 1 tsp cinnamon
  • 1 tsp baking powder
  • 1/2 tsp baking soda
  • 3/4 tsp ground cloves
  • 1/2 tsp ground ginger
  • 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
  • 1/4 tsp salt
  • 1/2 C unsalted butter, cut into chunks
  • 1/2 C pure pumpkin
  • 1 egg
  • 3 TBL milk
  • 2 tsp vanilla

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

In a large mixing bowl, whisk flour, brown sugar, spices, baking soda, banking powder and salt. Cut butter into dry mixture.

In another bowl, whisk pumpkin, egg, milk and vanilla.

Add wet ingredients into dry and mix until combined.

Press into flat circle about 1 inch thick. Cut into 8 large triangles and place on a prepared baking sheet.

Cook for 10-12 minutes or until firm.

In a small bowl, mix 1/2 C powdered sugar with 1/4 tsp cinnamon, 1/4 tsp cloves, 1/4 tsp ginger and 2 TBL milk.

Once scones are cool, ice with spiced glaze.

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Do it right and you won’t dare throw these things anywhere but into your belly.

 

candy corn sprinkle covered apple cider donuts

Sometimes I feel like that guy you went on a first date with and afterwards he says you should hang out again soon but then you don’t hear from him for two-plus weeks. And you’re probably over there on the other end of your computer or smart phone like what the heck? I thought we hit it off?

Should I shoot over a random text that says I’m interested without saying I’m interested. You know something like, “hey.” A simple reminder that you’re waiting for an update, but not desperately waiting, just you know, waiting.

Meanwhile that guy you’re dating (me in this case) actually really wants to hang out with you again but keeps getting sidetracked by work, work events and events for work and hasn’t gotten around to making the necessary efforts to plan your next date.

OR, this is just my really roundabout way of telling you that I’m sorry I keep going AWOL from the blog. I miss you and I’ll try to be better. And better I’ll be because today marks the start of the best season ever created once a year every year from now until eternity.

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I’ll try not to repeat my annual reminder post about how obsessed every girl everywhere is with the fall season as I’m sure the amount of blanket scarves, over the knee boots and PSL snaps and instagrams you’ve seen today are reminder enough.

Instead, I’d like to use this time to revisit my baking of the inaugural batch of pumpkin apple muffins, a task just a wee bit more challenging to get motivated for when it’s still 90 degrees outside and you’ve already showered but can’t stop sweating from your run.

So without further ado. Give me all the pumpkin!

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Pumpkin Apple Muffins with Streusel Topping (makes 18-24)

  • 1 C unsweetened canned pumpkin
  • 2 large eggs
  • 1/2 C vegetable oil
  • 2 C peeled and chopped apples (I used honeycrisp)
  • 2 1/2 C flour (I used half whole wheat, half all-purpose)
  • 2 C sugar
  • 1 TBL pumpkin pie spice mix (cloves, ginger, cinnamon and nutmeg)
  • 1 tsp baking soda
  • 1/2 tsp salt

Streusel Topping (Because, well, Streusel)

  • 2 TBL flour
  • 1/4 C brown sugar
  • 1 TBL oats
  • 2 tsp butter

 

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Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a large mixing bowl, whisk sugar, flour, baking soda, spice mix, soda and salt. Set aside.

In a stand mixer, blend pumpkin, oil and eggs together.

Add dry ingredients into wet and mix until just combined. Add apples.

Scoop into prepared muffin tins and fill about 2/3 of the way.  Top with 1 tsp streusel topping per muffin.

Bake for 30 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean.

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Serve warm with butter. pumpkin apple muffins, pumpkin recipes, fall, autumn, muffins, breakfast, brunch, baking, recipes, pumpkin apple muffins, pumpkin recipes, fall, autumn, muffins, breakfast, brunch, baking, recipes,

If you need me, I’ll be out shopping for plastic pumpkins and gourds that won’t melt on my front porch this year.

Happy Fall, Ya’ll!

Wedding Snapshots: Bridal Party

You know this whole newlywed thing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Sure it started off easy enough. Honeymoon in Italy. Frequent trips to Crate and Barrel to buy more ramekins. Date nights every weekend.

But then three months go by and you find yourself feeling isolated and filling the time with conversations with your dog. OK, so you’ve always talked to the dog but last week you were somewhat convinced he actually had an opinion on which direction you began your evening walk.

They say communication is the key to a good relationship and considering I received a bachelors degree in it, I’d have to agree, but I’d go ahead and put an addendum in it that added the following:

FaceTime.

FaceTime. Saving marriages where one party goes to Prague for 11 days, comes back for 4, leaves for Manchester another 14 days, comes back for 10, leaves for Mexico for 7 days, comes back for 14 and then spends the remainder of October in Chile. Not that I’m counting the days or anything.

Technology is an amazing thing. Sure the time difference can be tough and the frequency in which you bounce ideas off the dog instead of your new husband a little odd, but the truth is, being able to communicate with someone even when they’re across the globe for work is pretty awesome.

I’ve always considered myself a pretty independent person. If independence is defined as someone who surrounds herself with family and friends and loved ones because she feels more whole when she’s spending time with others than when she’s by herself. See also needy extrovert.

So what are you getting at with your facetious references to marital woes and global technology, Sarah?

I’m so glad you ask.

I’m starting to think distance may in fact make the heart grow fonder? At least it seems to be working for me as it relates to Matt, my family and our friends.

When your social circle shrinks exponentially whether it be due to a cross country move, the addition of children or a busy work schedule, your blessings really seem to come into focus.

Blessings in the form of friends and family who take time to reach out amongst their busy schedules. Who maintain friendships over the years even as shared interests and activities wane and who most recently, spend time and money to be a special part of your wedding day, not getting nearly enough credit or publicity for doing so:

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So I’d like to invite you to the grand opening of the Murphalewski B&B this September. No pressure to book early, but I should mention that our beach was recently named #1 in the USA on TripAdvisor and we have over 250 days of sunshine annually.

See you soon!