Cheese and Choux

I never thought I would say this, but: my man has gone off to rehab.  Oh no, no no.

Ha, totally kidding.  I've always wanted to say that.  Sadly however, I've never dated the Sid Vicious God-Save-The-Queen types.  Not me, no.  I've always gravitated towards the fine wine, carefully puckered tie, newspaper under the arm on Sunday mornings types.  They've been well-read; they've had a good sense of humor; they've never done any real time in prison.  Still, there has to be some merit to the bad boy that I've been missing.  If not, I certainly have a bone to pick with a number of girlfriends who kept me up weeping and waiting by the phone in college.  I'm not sure what the merit is, and this is probably why I married the very best of "my type."  Nonetheless, there's a certain dangerous something to wiggling your eyebrows, casually leaning in to offer a secret, and chucking about a lightening-bolt word.  Like rehab.

Unfortunately, I've just never been that interesting.  My fine wine husband isn't in rehab for anything that requires a twelve-step program, but rather to fix the foot that he royally screwed up playing basketball.  The plebians call his rehab "physical therapy," but honestly, what's the fun in that?  So my husband not only popped a handful of ligaments (two days before the bar exam, I might add), but he went above and beyond your ordinary sprain.  He did such a number on that foot that his therapist has proclaimed the look of it (tiger stripe purple bruises on all sides) and the feel of it (disturbingly wobbly) unprecedented.  For a good month, I just winced when I looked at that foot.  Unprecedented or not, I just felt helpless.  Watching him.  Not being able to do anything. 

This is kind of love that never gets shown of TV.  They always give you these oddly oiled bodies straddling each other in great abandon.  Nearly every woman (don't me started) has implants that actually look implanted.  Everything's all hot and bothered.  But very recently, I've decided that the best kind of love is the kind that mops your head during a fever.  That chills with you during a chick flick (however grudgingly).  That doesn't make fun of you (too much) when you spill wine at a work function.  I suppose I have to resign myself to the inarguable fact that I actually love somebody more than myself.  And I've decided that it's the most frustrating freakin' thing in the world.

Because I can't actually do anything to make my gimpy mate better.  Recently, I've exhausted energy elsewhere.  I've cleaned bathrooms.  I've helped him carry heavy stuff upstairs.  You know, we do what we can.  Many people would probably advise me to mellow out, as there's nothing (really) that I can do to help.  To these pessimists, I have only one word: muffins.

That's right, I made him muffins.  I made muffins, because his physical therapy required him up at the crack of dawn.  I made muffins, because he gets tunnel vision sometimes, and I knew he would miss breakfast.  And, of course, I did it because it was the only thing that I could do.  And, if a girl's gotta be helpless, she can at least be helpless with sparkling bathrooms and a yummy smelling kitchen.  Besides, I'm no martyr here; I definitely pilfered some for myself.  I should note that the recipe calls for blueberries, which always seems a bit weak to me.  How many blueberry muffins have you eaten in your life?  There you go, I rest my case.  I should also note that this recipe is super healthy, and in that sense, a little bland.  However, because it's so healthy, the fiber should prove filling enough for a meal substitute.  I should also note that all of my pictures are of the strawberries, because they're just so sublimely pretty this spring.  Forget the look of the muffins.  Just eat them.

And I should also say that, in the end, I ate more muffins than him.  But that's okay, because I made them all for him.  And that - for me - is unprecedented.

Oat Whole Wheat Strawberry and Banana Muffins, pilfered from Bea Ojankangas "Light Muffins . . . "

Instructions

1 1/2 cups uncooked old-fashioned rolled oats

1/2 cup whole wheat flour

1/3 cup packed brown sugar

3 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ginger

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 cup fresh or dried blueberries

1 cup skim milk

1/2 cup (1 medium) mashed ripe banana

2 tablespoons Walnut oil

1 large egg, beaten

Instructions

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.  Spray a 12 cup muffin tin with olive oil based cooking spray.  In a large bowl, thoroughly mix the rolled oats with the wheat flour, brown sugar, baking powder, ginger, cinnamon, and salt.  Add the strawberries, and stir gently until they are evenly distributed.  In a small bowl, stir together the milk, banana, oil, and egg until blended.  Add the liquid ingredients to the dry ingredients and stir until just moistened, about 20 strokes.  Spoon batter into the muffin cups, dividing evenly.  Bake for 15-20 minutes, or until wooden toothpick comes out clean.