Monthly Archives: June 2010

I am Christy Miller. Wait, no! I mean, read the Christy Miller books.

(Disclaimer: this is for the wimminfolk. The dudes can read some Terry Pratchett instead.)

Are you a preteen or teenage girl? Have you ever been a preteen or teenage girl? Are you a grown woman who maybe still gets a little weepy when certain commercials come on depicting older couples walking hand-in-hand down beaches at sunrise, or somebody blowing out some candles on a birthday cake? If you fit into any of these categories, then your life is not complete until you’ve read the Christy Miller series by Robin Jones Gunn. She is a Christian author who wrote this series of 12 books for teen girls, starting with “Summer Promise” and ending with “A Promise is Forever”. OK, I know you’re distracted by the “art” on the cover there–but you know what they say–don’t judge a book by the hairdo or clothing choices of the woman on the front. And Christy doesn’t actually wear white polyester pants with hot pink swirlies in the book.

I read them when I was 11 for the first time, and have re-read the series at least a dozen times since then. In fact, I read them all again just last year. They are freshly written, they don’t deal with “topics” (sex, drugs, eating disorders) in a heavy-handed way (I never felt preached at as a young girl)… and you just love the characters! In fact, I refuse to call them “characters”. They are real people and that’s just that. My childhood friend Stacy and I argued passionately over whose imaginary volleyball team Christy and her boyfriend Todd were on–they were real to us. And I should add that Christy and Todd are on my imaginary volleyball team to this day, in case anyone’s asking.

There is an equally wonderful follow-up trilogy to the series called “Christy and Todd: the College Years”—but start at the beginning, my friends. This trilogy is the icing on the cake. And people don’t eat the icing first. At least they’re not supposed to. Ehem. (I mean, I just lick it to be thrifty, I swear! Waste not want not! Icing saved is icing earned!)

I still cry when I read these books. There’s an especially heart-wrenching moment in “Sweet Dreams” (book 11), when Christy and Todd are watching a sunset at the beach, and they’re, like,  holding hands, and, like, she can tell, like, (sniff) something is really bothering him, so she says (sniff)—but I’m not giving it away! (yes, it’s my strategy to draw you in with that well-crafted cliffhanger, why do you ask?)

Robin Jones Gunn just nails the thoughts that go through our heads as women—the insecurities, the hopes, and the confusion. In fact, sometimes I think “maybe I AM Christy Miller!” And then I quickly look around to see if there are any psych-ward clinicians waiting to drag me away. This identity disorder has been with me since 2004, when I emailed the following to my husband from my parent’s apartment in Spain:

“Well darling–I’m going to run downstairs to get my stock of hairclips back up, and then I might retreat a bit into my Christy Miller book. I picked up the first one thinking “this will be good for a laugh”, because I was so obsessed with them as a teenager, and I’ve discovered that though the lessons the author is trying to teach are rather obvious, I still love these books!! Sweetie, it’s time you know this–I was Christy Miller!! I lived in California and hung out on the beach and dated Todd Spencer, the surfer with the screaming silver blue eyes!
Just kidding. But reading Christy does feel like reading my own journal, in a weird but wonderful way. She was my escape world for so long, my alternate life. This is why we want to have daughters (note the coercive/persuasive use
of “we”): so that they can read the Christy Miller books!!!”

These books hold such a special place in my heart. Buy them for a teenage girl in your life. And read them yourself too. Unless you’re a dude. I’m sorry that the covers are so corny. Christy herself is apologizing inside for her spiky do and hairspray-coated bangs. But once you get past that, the inside will melt your heart.

Postscript: My spiky-haired Christy edition is no longer out there … they have revamped Christy’s image and dragged her kicking and screaming into the 21st century. Hooray for modernization!

Thick Strawberry-Banana Smoothie

This is the smoothie of my dreams, and I have to have it every night or I shrivel up into a mere shell of a human. If there are no bananas and our grocery budget is maxed out, I make a small sign which reads “Please help. Bananas needed asap for frightening shriveled condition” and sit on the sidewalk to terrify passerbys into dropping a banana in my hat. My addiction to this smoothie is a sickness, people–a sickness. And we all know that sickness likes company. Or was that misery? Anyway, I want everyone to experience the wonders and horrors of a lifelong dependence on this fruit-laden, creamy treat.

I used to make smoothies all the time in high school. Then I forgot they existed. And then, on a recent trip to my sister Heidi’s house in Alabama, she made one that I would have killed for. But instead of killing (which might not go over well with my pastor) I bought the ingredients myself upon my return home and I whipped one up. And then another. And then another. After wasting a decade of my life not consuming smoothies, I had to make up for lost time.

One of the best things about it: the only thing you dirty is the blender and the glass you drink it from. No chopping involved! And no ice involved—my blender can’t handle it. It jams up and the motor catches on fire. Or at least it starts smelling like it’s caught on fire. The frozen fruit does the trick of cooling the whole thing down. Since we’re in the midst of beautiful, summery, strawberry-laden days, I like to stock up on cheap strawberries, take ‘em home and freeze ‘em whole so that they’re always on hand. But in the winter, I may have to revert to the pre-frozen bags.

Ingredients

(2 servings)

1 ripe banana

1 TBS brown sugar

1/2 tsp vanilla

1/3 c milk (or half & half if you’re like me)

1/3 c plain yoghurt

6 medium frozen strawberries

Toss everything in your blender. Take a leap of faith and use the half & half instead of the milk (then tell yourself it’s just this once). Blend! Drink.

If you don’t like your smoothies so thick (i.e., my husband), just add more milk. If you like ’em fruitier, just add more strawberries. If you want to exponentially add decadence, spoon in some vanilla ice cream–it’s versatile! This really is the easiest thing you’ll ever make.

Use this recipe as a base to switch up the fruit. I like to use frozen peaches, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, mangoes, etc. Get crazy and switch up the flavor of yoghurt you use. You can also spike it with some vanilla vodka if you so choose. Will you have chosen wisely? That’s for you, your tastebuds, and your ethics to work out.

After my 3rd photo shoot with this smoothie recipe trying to capture something that didn’t look like a washed-out pile of mush, I discovered 2 very important tricks. If you’re willing to put in a little extra effort (read: 2 more minutes of prep) and want to make the smoothie EXTRA delicious, try this:

-Heat up 2 frozen strawberries in the microwave for about 1 1/2 minutes. This will turn them into a schmushy, liquidy pulp. Put the whole shebang in the blender with the rest. It adds something, it really does. Probably something about chemistry and the heat reacting with the sugars of the fruit. Let’s call it “microwavization of the strawberriohelix sugarchronicon.”

-Chop up some chunks/rounds of strawberry and banana, and mix those in at the end. After photographing the garnishes (I never use garnishes on a normal night–does anyone??), I plopped ’em in to the smoothie right before drinking (read: inhaling) it. And you know what? Finding those chunks of fresh fruit as I gulped it down was DELIGHTFUL. I can sense you’re dubiousness–but please trust me! I wouldn’t lie to you! (sob of genuine-ness and sincerity catching in throat) In fact, it’s SO GOOD I MUST WRITE IN CAPS TO DRIVE THE POINT INTO YOUR MINDS!!

OK, now that we’ve seen the pretty pictures, let’s get real. This is how I really drink it: all 3 servings in one beer glass. Mmmmm.

A beer glass full of delights

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