Every morning, as my eyes first open, I reach out and grab my tablet, that I might review what important events have transpired whilst I slumbered.
A cup of coffee usually appears concurrent with the tablet. Have I mentioned just how much I love my husband? Not only does he bring me coffee in bed each morning, but he doesn’t even TRY to converse with me until the first cup has disappeared.
I begin by viewing the most vital pages: Facebook. Twitter. Path. Instagram. Tumblr. A couple of online comics that I follow. Pinterest.
Pinterest was my downfall this morning. As I scrolled through, virtuously repinning autumn-themed quinoa recipes, my eyes stopped – dead – on a beautiful pastel photo. The caption: Peggy Porschen’s Marshmallow Puff Recipe.
Squirrel! Marshmallows, homemade or not, do not belong in my diet regimen, which I renewed just this week. You see, I kind of ditched diet and exercise – and writing – during the past month, due to moving…and moving…and moving. When I had time to think about that, which was rarely, I wondered if I should be discouraged about my inability to maintain an optimal health regimen during my hyper-busy times, which is probably when I need it most.
After a few microseconds of deep reflection, I always came to the same conclusion: fuck it. It made me tired just to consider worrying about…whatever it was I was worrying about. What was I worrying about?
On a TOTALLY unrelated topic, have I mentioned I’ll be 56 in less than a week? Ah, demon menopause, you robber of thoughts.
However, an upside of menopause is what I call the fuck-it effect. “What was I thinking? Fuck it. Glass of wine, please.” Not only can I now say ‘fuck it’ (because I no longer have young children for whom to model non-profane speech) but I can mean it.
Marshmallow Puffs. I looked at them. Pretty, perfect pastel mounds of deliciousness, one floating daintily in the coffee.
Diet be damned. I clicked on the link. And came to a page that was NOT marshmallow puffs. Why do people have difficulty understanding that when they see something they like on a blog, they have to click on the particular post if they wish to link to it? Otherwise, future clickers are treated to the latest blog post, not the pertinent one. This is serious. World peace may be threatened, Deep breath. OK then. Plan B: google Peggy Porschen Marshmallow Puff Recipe, and find the original link.
I started down the results list. One link took me to the same adorable image, with a ‘click here for recipe’ button that looped you back to the current page. No recipe. Just the photo. I clicked it several times, because I hadn’t finished that first cup of coffee, and therefore thought that perhaps I COULD yield a different result if I clicked smartly enough.
Finally, I clicked another link. Expired. Panic began to set in. I NEEDED that marshmallow recipe!
I finally found it on a UK website. All measurements in metric. Moment of truth. Did I really want the marshmallows badly enough to do the conversions?
Fuck it. Turns out, what I really want is a tablespoon of sunflower seeds and another cup of coffee.
PS: So it turns out Peggy Porschen is a thing. Her boutique baking books (nice alliteration, huh?) are quite popular. Here’s one: Boutique Baking: Delectable Cakes, Cookies and Teatime Treats
PPS: The recipe is here: Peggy Porschen’s Marshmallow Puffs .You’ll have to do your own conversions. I’m busy slurping quinoa squash soup.
Seeking My Best Self 
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