When I went over to the table to reclaim my dishes at our last church potluck, I spied a pan with a few leftover plain brown bar cookies in it. So unassuming, they were. Obviously, something that drab looking must have some pretty good flavor, I thought. So I broke one in half and took a bite.

Chewy, caramelly, soft, and a little toffee-like around the edges—the bars were golden. Of course I demanded the recipe.

I made the bars and took some to our support team meeting. Of the several desserts there, this one was the most homely and the most exclaimed over.

“What is in these?” people asked. “Coconut? Oatmeal?”

The bars do indeed seem to be full of something. It’s a bit of a letdown (or thrill, depending on your perspective) to find out it’s just the basics—butter, flour, sugar.

I call them sparkle blondies. Instead of plain white or brown sugar, the recipe calls for the coarser raw cane sugar which pebbles the bars, freckling them with the sparkly granules.

Of course, you could add coconut and pecans and chunks of chocolate if you want. But I like the simplicity that allows the raw, crunchy sugar to shine.

Sparkle Blondies
Adapted from Carmen’s recipe

I subbed in some whole wheat for a little more nuttiness. (Later I tried all whole wheat. It was a miserable experiment. Don’t try it.)

Not the blondie recipe you’re looking for? Here’s another recipe. I make them frequently.

1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 cups raw cane sugar (I used part demerara)
1 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup (10½ tablespoons) butter, melted
2 eggs, beaten
2 teaspoons vanilla

Stir together all ingredients, the dry ones first and then the wet. Pat the batter into an ungreased 9×13 pan—I wet my hand with cool water to keep the dough from sticking to it.

Bake at 350 for about 20 to 25 minutes until brown around the very edges.

This same time, years previous: chicken salad, Chinese cabbage and apple salad, why I homeschool

This same time, years previous: a boy book, chicken and white bean chili, peanut butter cream pie, my apple lineup, horseback riding, my year of homeschool torture

I was the last one up this morning. My husband had already left to go work at my parents’ place and the kids were putzing around the house. I thought my older daughter was still asleep—she was burning up with fever when my husband carried her up to bed last night—but then I went outside and discovered her sitting on the porch bench. She was watching the dogs.

They were in fine form, spinning in circles, nipping at each other, tails wagging.

So I went back inside, got my camera, and joined her on the porch.

Francie and Charlotte have become pretty good friends. Sometimes I look out the window and see Francie lying in the sun, Charlotte curled up right underneath her chin. They still sleep apart, though. I think Francie is a little possessive of her dog house. Can’t say I blame her, really.

Over the last several months, Francie has lost seven pounds. Charlotte gets all the credit. She is a taskmaster. She’s constantly jumping up at Francie. For some reason, she always goes for the mouth. She chomps down on Francie’s lips and hangs on. Francie doesn’t seem to mind.

Until she does. Then Charlotte goes flying.

She comes right back for more. There is no stopping that puppy. It must be the collie in her.

Or the beagle.

Or the terrier.

Yeah, probably the terrier.

The other place Charlotte goes for is Francie’s under-the-chin skin. She practically swings from it. Makes me crazy. Not because I think it hurts, but because of all that stretching. When you get to a certain age, you don’t even touch the under-the-chin skin for fear of making it saggy waggy.

It appears Francie doesn’t share my hang-ups. She doesn’t even flinch.

Francie’s toes are another Charlotte specialty. Francie tries to politely disengage by stepping over and away, but Charlotte just clamps down. It reminds me of when I had babies and I’d tried to get up off the floor and they’d lunge for my ankles and hang on.

The dog elbows are another attack point. Charlotte will run right up under Francie and grab hold. Francie’s tried all different techniques to discourage this behavior—the side step, the speed walk, the trip-hop, the ear bite. None of it works. Charlotte still loves to gnaw on those joint bones.

And you know what? In spite of all the chin-skin hanging and elbow-bones nipping, I think Francie secretly likes the obnoxious little twit.

P.S. Charlotte has been catching and eating moles. Sometimes she gets two a day. And when Francie gets one, Charlotte runs up, steals it, and gulps it down. I bet she’d be as good a mouser as a cat. Maybe even better. 

This same time, years previous: Halloween candy-infused brownies, a teacher’s lesson, mashed sweet potatoes