Beyond the Cheddar Curtain

Unfortunately, I had no luck finding invisible aliens. No more yellow sticky notes were found. However, I did find many different kinds of cheeses, and an abundance of fried seafood.

Can you guess where I went?

Yes, that’s right. Iwanski and I traveled beyond the cheddar curtain, to the brat-tastic state of Wisconsin. (That’s “brat,” as in German sausage, not “brat,” as in a naughty child.) We saw my parents and participated in what has been called the “May Birthday Bash.”

Every year, my family holds two “bashes”: a May Birthday Bash, and a January Birthday Bash. This is due to an abundance of January and May birthdays in my family. I have five sisters and two brothers and over twenty nieces and nephews. This results in many birthdays overall…with clusters of birthdays in January and May. Hmmm…if I count back and do the math, I see that the months of May and September were very amorous months. What happened in those months? The beginning of spring-like weather, and the beginning of the school year. Very interesting…

Anyway, I don’t know how these get-togethers became “bashes,” but perhaps it has something to do with the volume of my family’s gatherings. We are not a quiet bunch. This time around, there were only 8 of us in attendance (others were at graduations and other exciting events), and still, I noticed at one point that we were making a pretty good racket. Even the littlest attendee, my nearly one-year-old niece, would pipe up once in a while with a cry of “Aaaaaa!” or “Gout!” (This is her first real word, which we believe is a tribute to her uncle Iwanski.)

The only two birthday attendees were my sister Sheri (whose birthday was a couple of weeks ago) and myself (whose birthday is in a couple of weeks). We got some lovely gifts, and partook in a true Wisconsin delicacy: fried lake perch. Yum! I loves me some fried perch. No, Miss Healthypants was not healthy this weekend.

We missed having the rest of the family there, but we still had fun, and my little niece was all smiles and giggles, making the rest of us smile and giggle a lot. Babies are awesome when they’re happy.

Then my Mom & Dad and Iwanski & I said our goodbyes to my two sisters, brother-in-law, and niece, and headed back to my Mom and Dad’s house for a rousing game of “Personal Preference.”

What’s “Personal Preference,” you ask? Well, it’s only my FAVORITE game. It’s pretty much a “how well do you know the other players” type of game. The person who’s “it” picks 4 cards from a category (the categories are People, Activities, Food & Drink, and Potpourri), and has to secretly put them in order from their most favorite to their least favorite. The other players then have to guess what the person likes, in order from their most favorite to their least favorite. We learned last night that my Dad really likes spy novels, my Mom likes Michael J. Fox, and Iwanski hates cottage cheese and licorice. Pretty random, I know—but interesting. To me, at least. Iwanski pointed out that it was obvious that I should win this game, since I was playing with my parents and my spouse. He wasn’t wrong—we played two games, and I won both. Can you see why I like this game?

So it was a good visit with my family. And on the drive back to Chi-town today, Iwanski and I stopped briefly at the “Bong Recreation Area.” Yes, that’s what it’s really called. Here’s a picture if you don’t believe me.



Iwanski and I had driven past this sign many times, so this time we decided to stop and see what it’s all about. It was a beautiful natural area, and Iwanski found a lovely little trail that was off the beaten path, so we walked a bit. It’s always refreshing to get back into nature when you’ve been in the city for a while. We saw lots of birds, of course, and Iwanski even spotted a huge cocoon filled with probably a hundred little caterpillars. It was interesting, but it makes me itch just to think about it. I’m not really into the creepy-crawly things.

So we enjoyed our little foray into Wisconsin, but it’s always good to get back to our high-rise apartment in the city again…where I’m far away from the creepy-crawly critters.

Invisible Aliens

I was at Walgreen’s today, and I noticed that someone had left a yellow sticky note on a pile of plastic-packaged women’s robes. The sticky note said:

Hello Invisible Alien Population:
Mozart’s Current Body “Hit” In Chicago.
S.O.S.

I wondered who had left the note. Of course, it could have been a crazy person. But maybe it was someone who knows invisible aliens. Or maybe it was an actual invisible alien! Who knows?

Either way, it struck me as really funny. I really wished I had a camera with me. Then I thought, “It’s a sticky note. I could just take it.” But then I thought, “Would it be okay to take the sticky note? Was it even right to take it? And what might happen to me if I took it?” I called Iwanski and asked him what he thought. “I don’t know,” he said, “You might incur the wrath of the invisible aliens if you take it.” I wasn’t sure if I was ready to endure their wrath, so I left it there.

But then I started thinking. What did the note mean? Mozart’s Current Body “Hit”? Could this just be a secret gang communication? But then what did “S.O.S.” mean? Save our Ship…an alien spaceship? That would mean the writer had to be an invisible alien himself!

So I settled on the only logical explanation: There are invisible aliens living in Chicago, and they murdered the reincarnation of Mozart. Yep, that’s right. That’s gotta be what it means.

So for the next few days, I will be working to find traces of invisible aliens. They are invisible, so I’m sure it won’t be easy. Perhaps yellow sticky notes will be my only clues.

It will be very time-consuming, so I will not have any time to do any writing.

I will update you on my progress in a few days.

Wish me luck!

The Brutal Gourmet

Iwanski and I have been eating a lot of fast food lately. We’ve just both been working late pretty often. Plus, there are about 20 fast food restaurants within 2 blocks of our apartment. Some of which we don’t even have to go outdoors to get to. It’s just way too tempting.

And then there’s the simple fact that I am not a good cook.

Yes, that’s right. Miss Healthypants doesn’t know the first thing about cooking healthy—or for that matter, unhealthy—food. That’s why I eat so many salads. Hey, at least it’s healthy. (At least that’s what I tell myself while I drown my salad in Ranch dressing.)

I think part of the problem is that I just don’t like cooking. Don’t get me wrong--I like the idea of cooking. I can picture myself humming peacefully as I alternately stir several yummy-smelling dishes on the stove. However, the reality is that a) I’m not patient enough to enjoy cooking, and b) I’m too social to enjoy cooking. On the rare occasion that Iwanski and I decide to cook a meal together, I actually do enjoy it. But I don’t like being by myself in the kitchen. Perhaps it’s just the social Gemini in me.

So when I have to cook something (hey, the fast food restaurants aren’t always open!), I try to keep it really simple. Grilled cheese sandwiches, frozen pizza, spaghetti, and the like. And yet I still manage to screw it up somehow.

I think my first cooking screw-up was when I was about 8 years old. My sister and I decided to make Snickerdoodle cookies. (Mmmm…snickerdoodles…) We mixed the batter, dropped the little teaspoons of batter on the cookie sheet, and put it in the oven. Ten minutes later, we checked on it, and the batter had run all over the pan, like one gigantic runny cookie. We couldn’t figure out what we did wrong. Hello, it’s because you forgot to put flour in the mix, you dumbasses! Well, to be fair, we were only 8 and 10 years old. You’re allowed to make those kind of mistakes when you’re that young.

But now I’m an adult and can’t use that excuse. The following are actual mistakes that I’ve made in cooking, in the past few years:

1. A few years ago, I put one of those little California Pizza Kitchen frozen pizzas in the oven. A few minutes later, I smelled something burning. Apparently I had left the cardboard on the bottom of the pizza when I put it in the oven. (Hey, it was really thin cardboard! It was so thin that it blended right into the pizza crust. So it wasn’t really my fault—I blame California Pizza Kitchen.)

2. A couple of years ago, we were over at my sister-in-law’s house. I asked her if I could help her cook anything (See? I don’t mind cooking when others are cooking with me), and she asked me to boil some spaghetti noodles. Not a problem!—I could do that. I put the cold water in the pot and the noodles in the water, and put it on the stove to boil… My brother-in-law saw what I was doing, and he looked at me, dumbfounded. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to boil the water first, and then add the noodles?” “Really?” I said. “Why?” “Because you don’t want your noodles to get all stuck together and mushy. If you boil the water first, you’ll be able to cook the noodles al dente.” I nodded, and made a mental note to later look up the term “al dente.”

3. Just over a month ago, I decided to make grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. (One of my favorite “comfort food” meals.) We had bought a package of pre-sliced Munsteur cheese from the grocery store (the kind of package where each piece of cheese is separated by a thin piece of waxed paper), so I decided to use that to make the grilled cheese sandwiches. We sat down to eat, and Iwanski bit into his sandwich. “Eww!” he yelled immediately. “What is this…paper?” Sure enough, he pulled a little piece of waxed paper out of his mouth. “You left the paper on the cheese?” He asked incredulously. Then he peeled open the sandwich. And there, stuck to the melted cheese, was a big piece of waxed paper. I looked at my sandwich—and sure, enough, mine had wax paper stuck in it, too. I felt so bad that I had ruined the sandwiches, but all Iwanski could do was laugh and laugh.

So there you go. The cooking genius that is Miss Healthypants.

Come to think of it, it’s probably a good thing that I don’t like cooking.

I Loves Me Some TV

Whenever Iwanski and I get together with his family, we talk about a lot of things, but inevitably, we end up talking about TV. Even when we are sitting around a campfire, we talk about TV. When we turned out the lights for Earth Hour about a month ago, we talked about TV (and came up with “Candlewang,” a fun new game based on a skit on a British TV show).

We are a TV-obsessed society. And I love it. Because I love TV.

So I started thinking about what it was like when I was a kid. As kids, were we as obsessed with TV then as we are now? And then I remembered the types of “pretend” that we did when we were kids. Here are some examples:

1. We had this old red couch in our basement, with two long cushions that were almost the exact height of my sister and me. My sister and I used to pretend that we were Laverne and Shirley (I believe she was Laverne and I was Shirley). Naturally, that meant that she got the “Lenny” pillow, while I was stuck with Squiggy. Oh, well, you can’t win ‘em all.

2. We also used the red couch cushions to play the tv show “Chips.” My sister and I were, of course, the girlfriends to Ponch and Jon. We were always the girlfriends to those red couch cushions. (Hmm, it is a bit sad to think that our main aspiration at that age was to “have boyfriends.”)

3. Whenever we’d get together with our cousins Lori and Lisa, we’d play “The Gong Show.” The contestants would dress up in my Mom’s old clothes and shoes and do stupid stuff, and the judges would then “gong” the losing contestant. (The “gong” was typically some type of stick or hammer slapped against one of my parents’ 1960’s green floral metal tv trays.)

4. My best friend and I would often play “The Dukes of Hazzard” with the neighborhood boys while riding our bikes outside. We had a Bo, a Luke, and even a Rosco P. Coltrane. However, we had two girls and only one Daisy Duke…what to do? Well, being the creative geniuses we were, we decided we'd have a Daisy 1 and a Daisy 2! How clever!

So yeah, I think we were a little obsessed with tv, even back then.

And as I write this, Iwanski just asked me if I’m ready to watch one of our Tivo’d tv shows. Hell yes, I’m ready! I’m always ready to watch tv.

Brown Sugar Bumps

When I was a kid, my absolute most favorite treat in the whole world was Brown Sugar Bumps. What are these delicacies, you may ask? Well, the recipe is very simple—and very healthy, of course. (Wouldn’t you expect it to be, with a name like “Brown Sugar Bumps”?)

¼ cup butter
½ cup brown sugar
¼ cup peanut butter
1 cup oatmeal

All you have to do is melt the butter and then add in the other 3 ingredients. Of course, to make “bumps,” you can put small spoonfuls of the mixture on a cookie sheet and refrigerate it for 10 minutes—but I preferred to just eat it right out of the bowl. Yummy! My best friend and I would often share a bowl of this delicious mixture.

I remember one time (I think I was about 8 years old), my sister Sheri (who’s two years older than me) gave my friend and I the rare opportunity to play with her. (She of course had her own friends and didn’t often want to hang out with her little sister and her little sister’s friend.) We decided we were going to play runaways, and the only food we had to eat was—of course—brown sugar bumps.

We had an attic above our garage, and so that was our hideaway. I remember that we all had to make up our runaway name, and while my friend and I picked normal, boring names like “Sue” and “Barbara,” my sister picked the name “Cricket.” I thought that was SO cool.

So while we hid out in the attic, Cricket would give us our rations of Brown Sugar Bumps. I don’t remember a lot about the rest of what we played, but I do remember being frustrated that I couldn’t eat as many brown sugar bumps as I wanted to. That mean old Cricket!

I’m telling you, Brown Sugar Bumps are very addictive. Trust me, just try them—you won’t be able to stop eating them!**


**Unless your name is John Iwanski. He says they’re “too sweet.” I don’t know what he’s talking about!

Random Iwanskiness

I can’t believe I forgot this one…

Iwanski Rule #16: While taking a walk, Iwanski must be "unencumbered" at all times.** To walk with a small plastic bag in hand is out of the question. Iwanski will not even wear gloves. Ever.

**Note: A recent update to this rule: Miss Healthypants should be unencumbered at all times, as well. Iwanski is bothered when he perceives that Miss Healthypants is encumbered in any way and will insist that Miss Healthypants rid herself of all such encumberances.


Actual Iwanski sayings from 5-10-08:

“I’m going to get violent with this printer.”

“I see the world as one big B.L.T.”

"Moo, moo, moo, moo, moo…"

"You’re like MacGyver…no wait, did I say MacGyver? I meant you’re like your Mom."

Sisterly Love

This past Wednesday was my sister Sheri’s birthday. (I call her Sheki—long story. Happy Belated Birthday, Sheki!)

Sheri is two years older than me, and although we don’t see each other that often, when we do get together, we spend half the time laughing. It’s like no one gets the little “inside jokes” that she and I totally get. We sit there laughing, and everyone else looks at us like we’re crazy. It’s wonderful.

When we were growing up, though, our relationship wasn’t quite so friendly all the time. We sort-of had a love/hate relationship—which I’m sure is quite common in siblings who are so close in age.

We fought a lot because (as we were often told), we were very different from each other. Sheri was very careful with her possessions; I was very laid-back and—well—careless with stuff. Sheri was the painter/draw-er artist type; I was the writer. Sheri, being the older of the two of us, wanted to have authority over me. I didn’t like being told what to do. You can see it was a match made in heaven.

But despite all our bickering that I’m sure took place, I can only remember one time when the fight turned physical.

I was about 10 years old and, at the time, totally addicted to Atari video games. (My favorite games were Demon Attack and Dragonfire.) So I played all the time. And I mean ALL THE TIME. There was probably a permanent divot on the ground where I sat by the tv in our basement as I played.

So one day, Sheri got sick and tired of it. She came downstairs and demanded that I surrender my joystick so that she could play Atari. I said the 10-year-old equivalent of “hell no!” And she said in no uncertain terms that she was my older sister, and that I had to listen to her. I refused. The more I refused, the madder she got, and the madder she got, the madder I got. Pretty soon we started hitting each other.

Back and forth we slapped each other, and then I got in a really good hit. And by really good hit, I mean a really bad hit. She was holding her eye and crying out in pain. I panicked. Oh my God, what did I do?

Mom and Dad got involved, and they took Sheri to the hospital. Luckily, it wasn’t anything too major. As it turns out, I had smacked her so hard in her eye that her contact lens had gone way back in her eye, and they had to flush it out. I was just grateful that I didn’t hurt her worse than that.

I don’t remember fighting with Sheri too much after that. Maybe it was that we were both getting older and not getting into childish fights as much any more. Or maybe it was that we both realized we never wanted to get in a fight like that again.

Whatever the case, I know that when I saw my sister being rushed off to the hospital, I realized that I really did care about her, and I never wanted to see her get hurt.

And I still feel like that today. And I realize that I am lucky to have a sister who can now laugh about the fact that one time, I hit her hard enough to send her to the hospital.