By Camp Pendleton's spring training schedule means Ryan is gone two weekends a month. Pre-deployment workups have been ramping up. Ryan was gone Wednesday through Friday for a field exercise.
Caleb, 8, wants to be a firefighter still. Has not deviated. Hazel, 5, opinions about everything. Has Donna's directness without the diplomacy.
Taco Tuesday. The kids' favorite. Ground beef, hard shells, the works.
Donna would say: dinner at 1800, no exceptions. We did 1800.
I went for a walk Sunday morning before the kids got up. Half an hour. The fog was burning off. I needed it. Some weeks I get the walk in. Some weeks I don't. The week tells me which.
My therapy session was Tuesday. We talked about the deployment cycle and the way the body holds dread and the ways the body holds it. The hour passed. The work continues. I have been doing this work for years. The work pays.
I read the blog comments at the kitchen table with my coffee. A young spouse in Lejeune emailed me about deployment cooking. I wrote her back at length. I told her about the freezer. I told her about Donna. I told her she would survive. I sent her three of Donna's recipes.
The PCS rumors are starting again. The official orders will come in a few months. We could move. We could stay. The waiting is the worst part. Three years here and I have learned to not put down deep roots in any military town. Nineteen-year-old me would not have believed how good I have gotten at packing.
Ryan's friends came over Friday for a beer. I made wings and chips. They demolished both. Standard Marine appetite — they eat like they are still on rations. The kitchen looked like a battlefield by the end. They cleaned up. Marines clean up. Donna would have been impressed.
Reading another military memoir at night. They make Ryan tense. They steady me. We negotiate. He doesn't ask what I'm reading. I don't tell him. The arrangement works.
I made a casserole for a neighbor whose husband is deployed. I dropped it off. She cried. I told her, eat the casserole, baby. The food is the saying. The casserole was a mostly-frozen tater-tot situation that took fifteen minutes of effort and six months of practice to perfect.
Base housing is base housing. Beige walls, beige carpet, beige expectations. The dryer venting is in a stupid place. The kitchen has no dishwasher. We make it work.
The kids' soccer game was Saturday morning. The other parents brought oranges and Capri Suns. I brought a thermos of coffee for myself and a folding chair I bought at Target three years ago that has been to four duty stations now. The chair is a more loyal companion than some of my friends.
I unpacked another box from storage Tuesday afternoon. Three years on this base and I am still finding things I packed in Twentynine Palms. Military-wife archeology — every box is a layer of geological history. I found a ceramic dish from Lejeune still wrapped in newspaper from 2020.
I sat at the kitchen table Tuesday night writing in the journal. Volume 11 now. The handwriting has not gotten neater. The journals are a record of the life I am living, in the moment, in tiny script that I will look back on someday and not be able to read. That is okay. The writing was the thing.
Ryan came home tired Wednesday. He showered, ate, sat on the couch, was asleep by eight. Standard for a Marine who has been up since four-thirty for PT and stayed late for a brief. The schedule is the schedule. The body adapts because it has to.
Taco Tuesday is the anchor of our week — it holds, it delivers, the kids never complain — but it’s the thing we make after dinner, when Caleb and Hazel are still buzzing and Ryan is on the couch fading fast, that has become its own quiet ritual. Toffee Crunch Pretzels take almost no time, they use things I keep stocked without thinking about it, and there is something about the sweet-and-salty hit that lands exactly right after a week that has asked a lot. Donna would call it dessert. I call it the reward for making it to Wednesday.
Toffee Crunch Pretzels
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 12
Ingredients
- 4 cups mini pretzel twists
- 1/2 cup unsalted butter (1 stick)
- 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
- 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
- 1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips (optional, for drizzle)
Instructions
- Preheat and prep. Preheat oven to 350°F. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper and spread the pretzel twists in a single layer.
- Make the toffee. In a small saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter with the brown sugar. Stir constantly until the mixture comes to a boil, then continue cooking for 2 minutes without stirring, until it deepens slightly in color and smells like caramel.
- Add vanilla and salt. Remove from heat and stir in the vanilla extract and sea salt. Work quickly — the toffee will begin to set.
- Coat the pretzels. Pour the hot toffee evenly over the pretzels on the baking sheet. Use a spatula to gently toss and coat as many pretzels as possible without breaking them.
- Bake. Transfer the baking sheet to the oven and bake for 10–12 minutes, until the toffee is bubbling and has caramelized further. Watch closely in the last 2 minutes — it moves fast.
- Cool completely. Remove from the oven and let cool on the pan for at least 20 minutes. The toffee will harden and become crunchy as it cools. Do not rush this step.
- Optional chocolate drizzle. If using, melt chocolate chips in 30-second microwave intervals, stirring between each, until smooth. Drizzle over the cooled pretzels with a spoon or fork. Let set for 10 additional minutes before breaking into clusters and serving.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 185 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 26g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 210mg