The Sophisticated Stoner's: Ramble & Recipe: Pancake for a Lady
Updated: Oct 29
I moved out of my parent’s at 21. When I try to put into words what growing up in that home was like, I stumble to find the right ones at this time. It has tainted and painted my entire life. It was a Happy Meal with a couple of dirty Band-Aids thrown into the French fries and between the patty and the bun, a long wiry hair. There were lots of wonderful bits and toy surprises, but way too much yuck.
I shared a room with siblings all of my childhood. My earliest memories are of being on the bottom bunk on a plastic sheet because I was the bedwetter of the bunch. I don't think of soft sheets or fluffy pillows. I don't remember the color of my comforter or any of my bedding. I just remember the plastic sheet. Four girls from five to 12 in a room intended for one. Eventually as we aged and some moved on or out, we shifted around in this house playing musical beds in a home where the foundation of love was made of sawdust.
It's the end of another weekend and I'm sitting in the middle room of the duplex where I've lived for the past dozen years or so. It's next to a power station that buzzes constantly and provides a soothing sort of white noise that you get used to over time. There's a parking lot for my front yard and the lot behind me is a woodpile for some landscaping company that ren
ts out a few of the random garages that are also on the grounds. I have a small strip mall next to me where I can buy saki from the liquor store, a consigned dress that was horribly overpriced when purchased new, a pizza with a good garlic crust, donuts if I ate them and these weren't from a mix, and anything else at the convenience store where Ali (everyone knows Ali or should) works most days. It isn't picturesque or quintessential New England by any stretch, but it's home and I love it.
This particular room is currently serving as my office where I edit photos and videos as well as a guest room for whenever we have someone stay over a night or two. We don't have guests very often, but that didn't stop me from spending money and time in the last few days making it into a space I want to be in for hours at a time. My niece comes for Thanksgiving and occasionally, Cat has a friend stay over. This room has been an art room, a cat's freak out space, a mess of shit room, an exercise room, a dressing room, and my bedroom for a brief moment in time. Anyone who knows me knows that one of the things that I do a lot is move around the furniture in my home in an attempt to find some sort of space Nirvana. I'm like a gerbil constantly fucking around with her hay. I honestly think I'm there, but I've said that shit before and then moved the living room upstairs to a bedroom. So, I'm not to be trusted. Still, I think it's pretty perfect downstairs and the last few days have been about the upstairs. You'd think I had some big ass house or something. Nope. It's about 1,400 square feet. Which I think is pretty big.
However, I spent a little bit too much money on making Cat's room a better as well. She didn't need anything new in her room. I need to save money and not spend it, but something is broken in me when it comes to stopping when creating something visually pleasing. I want her to wake up and feel that her space is wrapping her in a hug. She has all that she needs, but back and forth to Home Goods I went picking up this and that to make
her room prettier. At the start of the pandemic, I decided that she should have the larger bedroom because I basically had the run of the rest of the house. Making her room/space nice has always been important to me. Every room that was hers was always considered and thought about. The trips to IKEA where I picked out the perfect crib and room items I could afford for her first bedroom in Hsintien, Taiwan when I brought her home, were just the start.
At Costco on Friday, I bought her a comforter set that feels soft and is like sleeping on a giant teddy bear. I made up her bed, but it wasn't enough and then a trip to Home Goods and Marshall's later and we have a new rug, some art, and a couple of new shelves for a room that she will only sleep in for another two months before it's mined of her stuff and she moves out. I know it's silly to spend money on making her bed extra comfortable and to hang pretty printed and framed florals on her walls knowing she's leaving, but I can't help
myself. I've thought a lot about her comfort these past 22 years. The right mattress, the weighted blanket, the expensive pillow that she adores, a collection of sleep masks and bonnets in a basket all to make sure she rests easy. I think of my plastic sheet and how it would be wiped down and I'd sleep on it preparing for another night of waking up wet. Her bed is a nest where she can be a baby bird restoring her wings. On her bed is the stuffed rabbit my mother gave her before she was born. My mother who wasn't always the nicest of people, somehow gave Cat one of her most cherished possessions. Nini is her name and she sits amongst the fluffy pillows and stays behind when she goes away overnight these days. Nini has traveled the globe and has been attacked by a new dog and had to have a nose job after hours of tears from a 16 year old in true pain.
I know tonight when Cat returns home and I do as well from my night at a fundraiser where I'll go take photos of people living life, we'll both crawl into our beds and be so comfortable. We'll both snuggle down and scroll our phones. I'll obsess about some piece of gear and not focus on what I should. But, I know that she's comfy and cozy in her bedroom.
* When Cat moves out, I told her she can mine the place and take whatever she wants.
I still love a good pancake and those little Golden Griddle Cakes are for the single lady or fella who wants a little bite, but doesn't want to whip up the batter. This recipe elevates the cake and also makes for a better sense of satisfaction. A while back, I had a granola company and was all into reading these business books. I read this one bit about how Cinnabon found this balance of sweet, salty, and fat. When that shit hits, it hits right and I've always like to find this sort of balance when I make a treat. I'm trying to find moderation (heifer eludes me), so making this gives me that monkey-brain zing that I need from time to time.
griddle cake, toasted in the toaster at a long heating time and hit the bagel setting
1/4 cup of frozen blueberries
2 tsps sugar
2 tsps butter
1/4 tsps salt
1 tbsp maple syrup
1 tbsp ricotta cheese
Place 1/4 cup blueberries, sugar, butter, and 1/2 tbsp of maple syrup in a small saucepan.
Cook until bubbly and blueberries are soft. Bubbly and sticky is the goal, so go low and slow.
In another bowl (or, be lazy and just use a big spoon and guess), combine the ricotta with the rest of the maple syrup.
Serve by topping cake with the ricotta goodness and pouring blueberry gooey over it all.
Enjoy! And, make your bed your favorite place to be.