The Kind of Girl I Wish I Was

Musings

There is the kind of girl I wish I was and the kind of girl I actually am.

I wish I was the kind of girl who read The New Yorker. What I read is a lot of Martha Stewart Living. And Archie Comics. And Sedaris. I never pick up a newspaper unless the picture on the front is of a far off place, and doesn’t include guns. If I do pick up a newspaper, I immediately find the section with the far off places or the columnists who don’t write about politics. The rest of the paper I save to use as window cleaner as it smears less than paper towel.

I wish I was the kind of girl who liked NPR. I will not listen to a single bit of talk on the radio, including a commercial… even if I am in my driveway. I will still persistently channel surf until I find music. Any form of talk radio, or radio host having a conversation on air instantly brings to mind ways in which I would like to off myself rather than be listening to talking on a radio while trapped in a car. Talk radio of any kind, about terrorists, mayoral candidates or even dating makes me so panicked and agitated that I nearly break out in hives and then promptly inform/threaten the driver of the car that I may die from having to listen to speculations of ebola taking over the U.S. Or has it already? I wouldn’t know. I don’t read the news or listen to NPR.

I wish I was the kind of girl who liked Words with Friends. Except I actually don’t, as Words with Friends is Scrabble’s ugly step-sister and why would I play Words with Friends with you when I have about ten copies of Scrabble sitting here in my home waiting to be played accompanied by a cup of Joe and my notorious bad temper if I lose?

I wish I was the kind of girl who liked getting up super early in the morning to do productive things before work, i.e. make my lunch, eat breakfast, maybe work out, put on mascara, go and sip coffee near the lake, really be wild and crazy and not wear my hair in a bun… But every morning I hit snooze for anywhere from 25 minutes to an hour and then am shocked that I have to leave my bed. Then I spend an inordinately long time sitting and pouting that I have to be up before I’m ready. Once I finally realize I have all of ten minutes to get dressed, do my hair, mascara, eat breakfast, pack a lunch and get to work on time, I am a crazed lunatic trying to squeeze in time to put on my favorite rings and find extra bobby pins and throw a can of tuna—and wait a can opener—in my bag before running out the door, where I still waste more time hooking up my iPod for my seven minute drive to work so I can listen to my latest download on repeat to set my mood for the day. And then no matter what good intentions I had about being put together, having breakfast or lunch, or being on time, I still am somewhat disheveled, eat cough drops for breakfast, and am never on time while trying not to cringe or explain that I didn’t oversleep per se, I just can’t believe where the time goes in the morning.

I wish I was the kind of girl who gave non-bearded men a chance. Oh wait, no I don’t. If loving beards is wrong, then I don’t want to be right. *Fellas: Grow a beard. Buy a flannel. Oh and know your way around a forest or a power tool. I mean honestly, it’s not asking a lot.

I wish I was the kind of girl who knew a thing about how to do my makeup or my hair. I also wish I cared about either of these even one iota. Instead I am the kind of girl who finds the store Ulta to be more intimidating than a trip to the dentist. The likelihood of my paying $18 for anything that is going to be smeared onto my face to supposedly give me a sun-kissed glow is the same likelihood that I would pay $18 for a toothpick. It’s never going to happen.

I wish I was the kind of girl who didn’t eat dessert for breakfast. Who could go a day without fantasies of living in tree houses, riding the rails of Russia, or lumberjacks sweeping me off my feet by insisting I own a sled dog team. But I am just not that kind of girl, nor will I ever be. I won’t be the kind of girl who works out before work, or learns to do my makeup or even plans that well for breakfast but instead plans my Trans-Siberian Railroad getaway.

I guess there is just no use in trying to change what God so intricately put together: A somewhat disheveled, morning loathing, news avoiding, non NPR supporting dreamer and poor-planner with a beard fetish and a sweet tooth. Hey there are worse things to be right?  Like ISIS. See! I am not completely out of the loop.

It is 8:30 at night, I am drinking tepid coffee and I want to go to bed. My coffee was hot fifteen minutes ago, but I kind of forgot about it. I didn’t make it to keep me up. I am too desensitized to coffee now for that nonsense. I made it to go with the decadent pumpkin cupcakes with cream cheese frosting that I made (my take on my mom’s sheet-cake recipe)

in celebration of it being fall and my constant need to have every form of pumpkin in my mouth or in my home until the clock strikes twelve on Thanksgiving night. Then I will retire my pumpkin obsession, replacing it with the much less fattening and considerably more annoying Christmas music obsession. Ah, but I love the holidays.
I am writing for three reasons. One: because I got this awesome new blog site, ahem, notice the .com. That’s as tantalizing as that pumpkin is. Two: I am so exhausted lately from the two jobs, the hours-long commutes every day in DC traffic, that I barely make it to 9 o’clock or my bed before sleep overwhelms me, and Three: because I write all day at work (more on the new internship at the posh magazine later) where I am fueled with creativity and swell ideas for my blog and then I come home, make dinner, maybe do the dishes, watch some DVR’d Sabrina the Teenage Witch because it brings me back to childhood even though watching it now makes me wonder why I liked it so much as a child and fall asleep on the couch. It’s entirely lame and unacceptable. So as I felt my eyes getting heavy before 9 even rolled around and I pondered getting one step ahead of the game and moseying on into bed instead of passing out on the couch, I said no. No, you are not going to bed at 8:30. You are not in the fourth grade. Get a grip woman.
So that’s all I have for you: my attempts to stay awake and write, wowing you with my new blogosphere and prompt you to go on a pumpkin-spree perhaps, starting with sharing my recipe, which if you know me, is something I always find hard to do as I view most of my recipes as coveted gems to hoard over people who don’t have a history of family baking.

Happy fall!

Pumpkin Cupcakes:

16 oz. can of pumpkin
2 cups sugar
1 cup vegetable oil
4 eggs
2 cups whole wheat flour (or white, I have been experimenting with whole wheat and I don’t taste a difference at all in cakes)
2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. salt

Temp: 350 for 18-20 minutes
Mix pumpkin, sugar, oil and eggs first, then add dry ingredients. Add two heaping spoonfuls to muffin tip, but don’t overflow.

Cream Cheese Frosting:

8 oz. softened Greek yogurt cream cheese (or regular, just what I used and like to buy)
3 tbsp. butter
2 tsp. vanilla (I sometimes, and by sometimes I mean always over-pour here and like it)
2.5 cups powdered sugar

Tasty Treats