So This Happened: Chocolate Banana Waffles

-Enjoy this post where I just sort of let my brain purge out this story about awesome people and dumb people. Ranting ensues.-

So this takes place a few weeks Before Wedding, which seems to recently be the way I chronicle my life at the moment, B.W. (Before Wedding) and B.C. (Ball and Chained). The latter being a joke between Husband and I because we're sort of hand flitting away that concept that everything is supposed to be different now that we're married because it just is apparently. The thing is that it's not - everything is the same as before we were wed except now we have a lot of thank you cards to write and matching silverware that is just bomb to look at.

So yes, B.C. because we aren't actually ball and chained. Though I sometimes say I am ball and chained and Husband sort of sighs and walks away because this is how I am and I yell at him that he knew this before the vows.

Our life is surprisingly easy. For me at least. I don't have to put up with me and that makes it easier.

But we are good hubbies. We share chores, we talk things through, we discuss important topics like finances, voting, careers and where to bury that squirrel that committed harakiri in the tomatillo plant. There are no surprises. (We suspected the squirrel was bipolar for months and turned away help from his fellow squirrels.) At least, not the bad kind.

We're financially well-prepared for most anything that might come. Well, we're comfortable, at least. If my car suddenly implodes on itself as I suspect it will the moment I let my guard down I don't have to stress too hard about getting a new one assuming said implosion doesn't kill me in a fiery, wrought-steel hell cage on the Business 80.

So, I think around May 2012 B.W. I ran into my ex of all people because when I'm out shopping for paper towels and thinking about how my feet hurt breaking in my goddamn fabulous wedding shoes the only person the universe feels it should hurl me into like a proton in the LHC with all the grandeur of the similar resulting explosion is him. 

(Also, I am not a shoe person. I hate shoe shopping. But these cognac colored Spanish leather breath takers are only what can humanity can possibly describe as gloriously dapper-chic.)

We both smile and give each other that awkward hug that is both sincere and revolting. It's the first time we've seen each other in years. I am shocked the earth didn't swallow him as I had hoped and I realize I'll have to renege on that deal I've got with Jesus as homeboy didn't hold up his end.

The last time I saw him was to pick up a check to put a ding in the repulsive amount of money he owed me. I walked into his apartment, which was engulfed in a toxic cloud of meth smoke. Eat Beast and Cid were tripping balls on secondhand psychoactive drugs. In retrospect it's actually rather fascinating watching one cat scream at the wall while another frantically tries to cope with what I assume were invisible rodents. 

Now, I can count how many times I've been so angry I actually screamed and that night consisted of probably more than half of them. Justifiably so, I think.

This was about five years ago. So we play up the niceties. I ask about his health and his family as I still do find myself concerned and while I don't want him to exist, I still wish him to be well. Just preferably on another plane of reality that I have no knowledge of or interaction with. I don't ask for much, you know? I suspect he may still be dealing drugs, but I don't ask.

His BF arrives and I am upset because he creeps me out and has asked me to have an affair before over Facebook. Twice. He fancies himself charming and I fancy him with my boot pressed against his neck but whatevs. I have as much desire to partake in this as I do herpes, contracting cancer, or blinding myself in a terrible chainsaw accident. I politely ignore him in the way that anyone raised in an upper-middle class background knows how to do. 

Ah, the fun I have.

I do mention the wedding, the book, the graduation - both because these are the true, actual updates in my life and because I want him to know how goddamn great I am and my life is. I want him to feel he missed out and fucked up. 

Why are we like that sometimes? That desire to scream, "Ha ha! See? I am better than you!" Life isn't a competition until you realize you really, *really* want to win.

He takes it well and then suggests that, hey, maybe we should all hang out. Oh god, I panic, and think again about the eye gouging chainsaw.

"I'm sorry, but no. No. I don't think that's a good idea. I'm sorry, but I do wish you the best." And I simply take my rickety wheeled Target cart and roll away. I don't try to do it like the damsel in a movie with statuesque pride. I don't dash away in terror. There is no drama on my part good or bad. At this point it's total indifference. I just leave. I'm done and that's that. 

His boyfriend calls me something under his breath. I don't hear what. My feet hurt too much in these goddamn awesome shoes. 

I went home and unpacked the wedding supplies in the garage. I broke out the old waffle maker and made waffles for dinner. No almond meal or whole grain flour so I decided off the hip to make some chocolate waffles because, you know, why the hell wouldn't I make chocolate waffles. Husband - then Fiance' - noticed and immediately began mashing some bananas for the waffles because good partnerships don't need lots of communication. This is especially true in the kitchen. You can just compliment each other well and cobble together a really awesome waffle without a word.  

Chocolate Banana Waffles
Note: These waffles don't get super-crisp, just somewhat so. You can use this batter for pancakes as well, I suppose, but I haven't tried it. 

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup cocoa powder

1 teaspoon baking powder 

1 teaspoon salt 

1/2 teaspoon baking soda 

pinch of ground cinnamon

2 large very ripe bananas, mashed

3 eggs, beaten 

4 tablespoons (2 ounces) ounces unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled 

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract 

2 cups buttermilk, room temperature

Mix together the dry ingredients in a bowl. In another bowl mix together the bananas and all the liquid ingredients. Combine the two and whisk together until just combined. Easy, right? Pop 1/2 cups-fuls onto a hot waffle maker and cook until the waffles stop steaming. Drown in syrup or jam or whatnot and destroy the waffles at the table. Awesome.