tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32734023779543381472024-03-13T03:54:15.037-05:00Back Acres: Our Little Slice of Heavenabuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-39567049280312015522013-03-27T12:56:00.002-05:002013-03-27T12:56:54.057-05:00Spring TeaseIt's supposed to be in the 50's this weekend. Last year at this time, it was green and gorgeous. Right now, it's brown and dead. Oh and MUDDY. So much mud. My dogs are covered. My house is covered. I am usually covered. I've had it up to my eye balls in mud. While I won't complain about the rain and snow we've gotten, I can complain about mud. I hate it so much I'm considered liming my back dog run. It stays pretty dry in the summer and relatively grass free. At least I think it does. Or my dogs are part sheep and get it. In reality, they trample it down pretty darn well.<br />
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Since it's going to be warm soon, something I am dying to do it mow. It will likely be a month before I can use the mower, but I'm already feeling the itch. I LOVE TO MOW. It's so therapeutic. On the days I mow, I don't feel the need to self medicate with wine or food (not to mention my meds). I could easily mow for 6 hours, be sunburnt, covered in grass, sneezing up a storm, and still want to mow more. Now I don't weed whip. Screw that. I ain't getting off my mower. If it's in the way, I'll likely mow it down. Well, except for giant branches. In the spring I'll pay some kids to come over and pick up sticks that have fallen down over the winter. I've got like half a tree out there right now I'll have to use the tractor to drag.<br />
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The flowers around here are incredible in the spring too. Also, my garden is pretty swell. I need these happy things in my life ASAP. Like, tomorrow if possible. Once the ground is soft enough to turn, I'll plant my onions and potatoes. We've had SUCH a cold spring so far that the ground is way too cold. I'm also planning on rearranging some things out there, so it really needs to be soft.<br />
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Maybe then I'll be able to pry myself out of the couch. It's sucked me into its maw. The house is a wreck. I have a million things I should do, but I don't do them. Also, I should go to the gym and attempt to lose this massive weight, but I don't. I'm much happier on the couch with my dogs. My horse probably doesn't care to see me, so I'm not in a rush to see her. I don't do cold (also don't do 90s). I live in the WRONG part of the world for sure.<br />
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Oh well. The sun keeps peaking out. My seedlings are reaching for it. If I have leaves I probably would too.abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-2016396264598493732013-03-24T23:05:00.000-05:002013-03-24T23:05:53.591-05:00DoneI'm done with 2013. Worst year of my life thus far.<br />
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If I felt any emptier, I'd be dead. I'm desperately searching for happiness and it's completely unavailable and/or unfindable.<br />
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Between the lack of a job, money issues, relationship issues, my husband's job, the health of my animals, and something I'm not ready to talk about... I just can't take it. It's one set of bad news after the other. Like, I literally laugh thinking about how comical some of this shit happening is. How is it possible to be this unlucky?<br />
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Sure, we still have our cars and house, at the moment, but fuck. The stress is eating me alive.abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-26640202823071012492013-03-16T19:08:00.000-05:002013-03-16T19:08:18.877-05:00No Such LuckI cannot get ahead in life these days. Not one bit. <div>
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I'm unemployed, again. Second time since 2011. I left a stable, full time job for a position MUCH closer to home. It also paid more. 3 weeks in and I was "let go" do to financial issues. Seriously. I wasn't graceful in my exit, but a real big part of me wanted to be quite a bit more nasty. I've never felt so violated. That woman lied to be thru her teeth about the job and my duties from the start. Within one week, I knew I made a poor decision. I'd already started my job search. Sure enough, my suspicions were confirmed. <div>
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Dogs will be dogs and she was most certainly a lying bitch. </div>
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Anyways, I'm receiving unemployment. As little as it is, it helps. Between board for Loucee, my trailer payment, and my credit card, I'm hurting. I could sell her and my trailer is worse came to worse. Though I'm real close to paying off that credit card! I've only ever used it for school. </div>
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Oh that's another thing. School. There will be no more classes until further notice. I took the semester off. The 2012 Fall semester was beyond rough. I could barely cope between working 10 hours a day (at a job I hated), an hour away from home, on top of a thousand other things that happened at once. It was nice to have a stress outlet with Loucee and my dogs. </div>
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But sometimes one stress outlet isn't enough. I decided to give up on classes for the moment. It was just too much. Stress isn't my friend. I've been non-stop sick (sinus issues) since September 2012. After a battery of tests, I'm apparently healthy as an Olympian? Just fat. My weight is completely out of control. I gave up my gym membership because I was too tired to be there. Well, I've got it back now. I've put on 60lbs since Spring of 2012. I'm friggin massive. My 5'4 frame looks hideous. </div>
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Sure, I'm emotionally eating and not moving a whole lot (winter in Illinois sucks ass), but this is just crazy. I blame stress. My calories were in 1200 range pre-job loss. I was moving fast for at least 45 a day. There's no other reason other than stress. So tired of this shit. </div>
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So tired of everything. Ron is gone more than ever. Monday thru Friday, it's just me and the dogs. My family is busy and my friends all have lives during the week. I also don't want to become a bar fly and that's apparently all they like to do. Sad. Oh well. </div>
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I really need something to look forward too. An escape! I need to GTFO of Illinois/Midwest immediately. The chances of a vacation are slim to none. I'm very tempted come summer to take a solo road trip. I'll drop the dogs off at my folks house and leave. I need it so bad. I'm craving the desert. Utah is calling me "home". </div>
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Which brings me back to home. Who knows where that will be in a few years. Ron is talking about moving to South Carolina now. I HATE THE EAST COAST. I hate everything about it! My family used to vacation there. I hate the humidity, the religion, the "southern" culture. Ugh. It's absolutely everything I don't want. We agreed on the West Coast or the Mountain region! It's where we most feel at "home". The desert heat is nothing to trifle with, but after a lifetime of humid Midwestern summers, I'm pretty damn sure we can handle it! Hell, if we can complete 10 mile hikes thru a desert afternoon, I think we will be just fine. </div>
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There is also the PNW. We adore Oregon. Washington, not so much. But Oregon is another home. Specifically, the Newburg to Salem area. He's spent a ton of time out there for work. I've visited on numerous occasions as well. Such a gorgeous area with friendly transplants. I love the farm to table type culinary scene, the organic lifestyles, and the emphasis on living sustainably. My dream house out there would be on 10 or so acres, with a hazelnut orchard, some fruit trees, some grapes, a couple lush pastures for a few cows and Loucee, a chicken coop, huge garden plot, and a nice home. Considering we need about $400k to make that happen, it will probably NEVER happen. </div>
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According to Ron, I'm too picky. He would be a-ok living in a shitty apartment, but he's never there, so why would it matter where he lives... This has been a huge argument lately. There are certain things I'm not giving up. I will not live in town again. Even if it's on two acres, it's enough for me to grow things, raise chickens, have privacy! He hates the old house issues that come with farm living though. Well, the farm living we can afford. I'm the one that is home all the time, not him. I should at least have the few things that I love the most out of life, right? He has his motorcycle, his woodshop, he's friends close by, but he still hates country living. Well, too bad, so sad. I'm not giving this life up! He will adjust or else. Harsh as it might be, I'm tired of arguing over it. </div>
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And that brings me back to the top. I've thoroughly vented out now. It would be nice to have a bit of luck back in my life. We need something! 2013 has turned out to be pretty awful. The furnace broke, the cost of oil shot thru the roof (it's an oil furnace), then the hot water heater broke, and of course, I lost my job. This all occurred in the past two months. The hot water heater is jerry rigged up for now. We will be paying off that load of oil until next fall. The furnace is still on the fritz. Between no hot water and a house temp set at 60, I'm one Negative Nancy. </div>
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I'd love a little luck in my life. Our life. Maybe one of those lotto tickets I just bought contains the magic number? Not likely, but it gives me something wonderful to think about. </div>
abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-23625895476547784072012-07-07T20:54:00.005-05:002012-07-07T20:54:57.972-05:00Neigh HappinessI've found happiness again in the form of a 1000 lb, 4 legged animal that says "neigh".<br />
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Her name is Loucee. She's a registered Quarter Horse mare by a famous western pleasure stud. She's just swell. Minus the fact she pulled a shoe and hurt her hock in the trailer on the way up last weekend. Oh well. Horses will be horses.<br />
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It's been too darn hot to enjoy her or even be outside. Over 90 degrees, well into the 100s for a few days, for a solid week? No thank you! It's just tooooooooo nasty out. Until this evening. The temp dropped 20 degrees and I never thought that 80 would feel "cool". We have all the windows open, air units off, and are enjoying the sweet summer breeze.<br />
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THIS is what summer is all about! Bugs chirping at sunset, trees swaying, and feeling that glorious breeze on your face. If only it would rain....<br />
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We haven't had a decent rain in a week. After that 100 plus days, we really need it. My lawn is done for. The trees even look pathetic. But worst of all, the corn crop is withering away. I feel so bad for all the farmers. This was suppose to be a great year! Not one of such loss.<br />
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I feel a bit guilty for not visiting Loucee for the past two days, but I couldn't deal with the heat. She barely knows me, and is probably quite happy dealing with the heat on her own. Now that it's cooled down, I hope to get some riding time in.<br />
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Another thing being neglected due to heat is my garden. I've not weeded it in weeks! Watering is easy. I just turn on the hose and let the sprinkler due the job. Weeding.... not fun when the sweat is beading on your glasses! I've got enough Preen and Roundup down to keep the bad one's at bay. It's the weeds in the asparagus bed that are driving me crazy. Oh well! At least everything looks healthy and happy out there. My zucchini is flourishing at the moment. Everything else is catching up. Not bad for being planted at the end of May. I wanted to get everything in early May, but that didn't work out!<br />
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The garden will come into it's on all in good time. At least I hope it does. I really know very little. When something happens, I Google it. Found out that hot weather and lettuce don't mix. Found out what bolting is. Found out that you're not suppose to water at night. Found out that baking soda, soap, and water will destroy fungus. Found out that DE will kill bugs. Fun stuff I keep learning!<br />
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Also recently found out how sweet my husband was with his baby bird Rory. The little tyke was blown out of the nest and somehow survived a very high fall. Ron fed him for a week and he was doing so great! Then one hot day we were gone for a few hours. Ron fed him and Rory just up and died. I think Ron overfed him and the little bird just didn't stop asking. It's easy to do, but then again, the little guy might of had internal injuries we didn't know about. Ron was so sad! I felt terrible. Poor guy.<br />
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The country is a cruel place and my city boy is figuring it out. I'm proud of him for trying so hard none the less.<br />
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It's also a beautiful place.<br />
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<br />abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-10659863192111514262012-05-31T22:13:00.001-05:002012-05-31T22:13:33.557-05:00SlumberIt's been nearly 6 months since my last post.<br />
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A lot has changed.<br />
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I'm working again. Found a job in March. Yay. Now I have 693 people to look after.<br />
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Things are slightly better on the home front. As in I'm still married and we haven't killed each other yet.<br />
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House almost burned down. My 100 year old farmhouse got struck by lightning a couple weeks ago. You don't realize how much you love your life until you almost lose it. Now I'm kinda glad the wiring is such a disaster. It likely saved our butts, our dog butts, and all of my dear possessions.<br />
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We had a foster dog for 3 months. Lab Mix. He had issues. Now he is someone else's basketcase.<br />
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I went off the pill. Now I've got the temp fix. I'm good for 8 years. No more hormones, no more mood swings, no more fear of the unexpected. Instead, I have pain every morning and incredibly intense periods. 6 in one, half dozen in the other.<br />
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A lot has also not changed.<br />
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Husband is still never home. Now it's harder. So much to take care of outside and I'm working 50 hour weeks, 45 minutes away from home.<br />
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Money could be better. Money could always be better I suppose.<br />
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My saving grace right now is the fact that it's summer. That means bonfires, warm nights, porch parties, swimming, and flowers.<br />
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<br />abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-728828994563516952011-12-18T21:31:00.000-06:002011-12-18T21:31:06.374-06:00Christmas WishesThis season of supposed joy hasn't been so joyous lately. Adding to our ever growing pile of home repair bills, the horrendous wind busted out our front picture window last week. Then the dryer, the brand spankin new dryer, decided to not work...<div><br />
</div><div>All right before Christmas!? You freakin kidding me?! </div><div><br />
</div><div>My current Christmas wish is for my husband and myself to catch a damn break! Puh-leease!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Outside of that, ideally, I would prefer the following to happen as well.</div><div><br />
</div><div>-Find a full-time job that pays decently. Enjoying it would be a perk!</div><div>-Get our repair bills paid down before summer. Fat chance at the rate this house falls apart. </div><div>-School to go easier on both of us. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And lastly, winning the Powerball or MegaMillions would be just swell. </div><div><br />
</div><div>That's not to much to ask for, right?</div>abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-7622932676507182502011-12-13T17:54:00.001-06:002011-12-13T17:55:10.784-06:00Crazy Chocolate Cake<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Dare I say healthy? Well, to a degree. This is why it's called Crazy Chocolate Cake. It's fabulous for starters. Not to mention super moist. Please, give it a shot! </span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Crazy Chocolate Cake</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 Cup Hershey’s Special Dark Cocoa<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 ¾ Cup Cake Flour <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 ¾ Cup Sugar<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2 Teaspoon Baking Powder<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 ½ Teaspoon Baking Soda<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 Teaspoon Salt<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 Tablespoon Vanilla<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 Tablespoon Canola Oil<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 Tablespoon Milk<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 Egg<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 Can Pumpkin Puree<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Preheat oven to 350 Degrees F.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Grease 8 ½ by 11 pan with canola oil spray.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mix the dry ingredients thoroughly.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mix the wet ingredients in a separate bowl. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Combine the wet into the dry slowly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Pour into pan and smooth top with a spatula. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Bake for 30 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The amount of sugar can be lessened. I haven't tried it yet, but I think it will taste just fine. Same goes for the cocoa used. If you'd rather use regular instead of dark, feel free. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I whipped up a simple cream cheese frosting to put on it, but for Christmas, I'm going to do peppermint. Dark chocolate and peppermint go together like peanut butter and jelly. Sprinkled with some crushed candy canes, and we're in business. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Seriously, I need to stop baking now. </span></div>abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-40589810135126272952011-12-10T18:20:00.000-06:002011-12-10T18:20:03.320-06:00Perfect Banana MuffinsI've been making these for years. They truly are perfect. I hate to waste spotty bananas. Even when they get one or two spots, I can't eat them. I'm more of a slightly green banana eater. <div><br />
</div><div>So after trial and error, I came up with this. </div><div><br />
</div><div><!--StartFragment--> <div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Banana Chocolate Chip Muffins</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 cup of whole wheat pastry flour <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 cup of all purpose flour <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 tablespoon baking powder <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1/2 teaspoon salt<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> 1/4 cup granulated sugar<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> 1/4 cup light brown sugar<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> 1/3 canola oil<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> 4 mashed bananas<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> 1/4 cup water<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> 1 teaspoon vanilla<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> 1 cup dark chocolate chips (or peanut butter chips, w/e)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Preheat the oven to 350 Degrees F and spray the muffin pan down with canola oil (or whatever). <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mix together the flours, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon. In another bowl, I beat together the sugars, oil and banana and added the rest of the wet ingredients to that. Pour the wet ingredients into the flour mixture SLOWLY and in small amounts until thoroughly combined. Then mix in chips. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Scoop the batter into the muffin pan. Sprinkle a few extra chips onto of the muffins for prettyfulness. I always have a bit extra batter and instead of making a few more big muffins, I use my mini muffin pan. I'll usually get half a mini muffin pan with the excess batter. Kids love these!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: 14.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Bake for 20-23 minutes.</span> Don't over-bake! </div><!--EndFragment--> </div>abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-28392576253969215522011-12-09T16:51:00.000-06:002011-12-09T16:51:18.655-06:00Weighty Issues<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">I've got a load on me I need to get off, again. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Since well, forever, my weight has fluctuated terribly. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Dance Recital. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/ashley7-3-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/ashley7-3-1.jpg" width="217" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">I was pushing 200lbs going into 6th grade. That is quite chubby for a 5'4 gal. My doctor was concerned, my folks were confused, and I was depressed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was very down in the dumps, unable to cope, and somewhat lost. I had no friends, no hobbies, and no life outside of my bedroom. Even in school, I didn't consider anyone a friend. Mainly though, because I was a defensive little bitch. I didn't know what else to be. In response to the constant teasing and belittlement about my weight (and terrible skin issues), I got nasty. No, I never hit anyone, but I did get verbal. A couple detentions here and there gave me a bit of a reputation. Kids generally left me alone. During the summer months, I was a complete recluse. My Mother still had a babysitter watch my younger sister because we did not get along. I was more concerned about my books and Internet forums where my sister was running around with all the neighborhood kids having the time of her life. What else was I suppose to do? Bullying wasn't addressed in my grade schools days as it is today. Teachers turned the other way. In PE, it was nearly encouraged. I never finished a mile with the rest of the pact. No, I was dead last. Then I spent the rest of the period in the bathroom, throwing up. Grade school was a terrible period of my life. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">The summer after 6th grade, my Dad and I drove by a riding stable. Seeing the LESSONS sign, he stopped. I was perplexed. After years of begging for horse time, my Dad succumbed. My Mother told him no for years. I think that reasoning stems back to her own denial of riding by her own mom. It was one of my father's shinning moments in life. Right then and there I was signed up for lessons. We were given a list of required items; a helmet, jeans, and an approved heeled pair of boots. The following week I took my first riding lesson. All summer, fall, and winter I rode. Usually, a couple times a week. I was out at the barn all weekend long as well. It was amazing how well I bonded with horses. I was a sponge, soaking up everything about horses from my fellow boarders, trainers, online, and in books. It wasn't long until I had a friend or two as well. Then again, there were a couple girls who weren't very nice to the chubby, enthusiastic, pimply girl who wanted nothing more but to learn from them. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">After the summer of my 7th grade year, I was by then quite the little horsewoman. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Can't recall the year. On the losing streak though. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/spotfix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/spotfix.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">I could ride anything underneath me. I was training young horses. I was giving lessons to students. I was also running the barn with another girl. The owner/trainer wasn't the most responsible of adults. We were left with a list of instructions and always followed it to a T. If we veered, we got screamed at. There was a large dose of fear instilled in us from the owner/trainer. Even though this woman should have never left the place in the hands of two young girls, we learned enormous responsibility. We also were worked to death. There was no working bathroom or drinking water. If we had to go, we went into a stall. If we ran out of drinking water, we went thirsty. Same for food. From sunup to sundown, we were at the barn. It was virtually slave labor.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">It's how I lost nearly 50lbs.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/skinnyash-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/skinnyash-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">I wasn't eating right or drinking enough. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Instead I was cleaning 30 stalls a day (straw, not shavings), pushing the wheel barrows down a 1/4 mile dirt path to dump, turning out those 30 horses, feeding all together 45 horses, cleaning tanks/buckets, bathing/grooming multiple horses a day, riding/driving at least 5 horses a day, lessoning with at least 5 students a day, among other things. I also put up 1500 bales of hay throughout the summer and stacked 100lb bags of grain. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">It eventually got the point where I no longer enjoyed the barn. Riding meant I had to appease the owner/trainer. By then, I had my own horse. Even to ride and enjoy my mare, I was coerced into working for the lazy lady. The few times my folks actually stayed around, she never bothered me. I had wonderful rides on my mare. But those were few and far between. Shortly after starting my sophomore year in High School my mare colicked and died. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">About a month before she passed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y40/paws8920/other%20horses/91393572VEsRHz_ph.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y40/paws8920/other%20horses/91393572VEsRHz_ph.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">I always wondered if the trainer had anything to do with it. I told her shortly before that I couldn't continue working for her like that. In fact I was looking for a real job. She completely flipped out and stopped speaking to me for a while. This woman had serious issues and I was just starting to realize it. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">The weight loss was extreme enough kids were actually paying attention to me. People wanted to know me. It was pretty cool, I'll admit it. But what previously ignored girl doesn't want attention? I was smart enough to see through the fake people. The older students were far kinder to me then my own age group. High school was turning out to be a fabulous time. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Following my freshmen year, my time at the barn was still intense. I was there nearly every day. Unfortunately, I didn't get to spend the quality time with my mare I wish I had. She was really a fabulous horse. So good to me and I was such a shit sometimes. I spent more time with the trainers Draft horses then with my own good girl. Over that summer I did a lot of showing. Won a lot too. At the yearly State Fair is when everything came to head. The trainer brought a bunch of other girls, who never worked like I did. They were showing the nice horses before I was. I was basically brought along as a barn bitch. Clean the stalls, bathe the horses, and stay out the way. While everyone was having fun, I was being bossed around. My last class was a riding class, after the other girls had already showed the horse I was using. He was tired and I was overly upset about it. We had a terrible class.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">After a bad class. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y40/paws8920/abcde.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y40/paws8920/abcde.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Then the trainer screamed at me in the back of the barn. Luckily, my mom picked me up the same day. It was then on the ride home I bawled my eyes out over the things this psychopath was having me do and I couldn't take it anymore. That fall is when my mare died. It was the last straw. I packed up my shit after she tried to swindle us into one of her nasty horses. I was done with her. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">She didn't hesitate to tell me I would get fat again. And I did. My senior year I slowly ballooned back up to the 190's. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Fall 2006.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/Senior%20Pics/SeniorPics.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/Senior%20Pics/SeniorPics.jpg" width="211" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">With my mom and sister. Spring 2007.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/momcjash-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/momcjash-1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">After HS, I started using a gym and a personal trainer. There was a new horse in my life, with a great, but very strict trainer who taught me how to be a better rider and person. I started taking slightly better care of myself. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Summer 2008.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/08SummerShoot/39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/08SummerShoot/39.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But it wasn't enough. I still had a very unhealthy relationship with food. My weight continued to fluctuate badly. The summer before my senior year I was in the 160's and my new show clothes fitted perfectly. I rode well and confidently! The following summer, after graduation, not so much. It was my last year showing and I was terribly uncomfortable. My clothes didn’t fit well. I was lumpy and bumpy. When riding in an arena full of size 0’s, you get uncomfortable fast. There were no overweight youth riders. It was very frowned upon. I still rode my best. My best wasn’t good enough, but I did enjoy the last few shows with my horse. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I miss that guy so much. He was a saint. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">My favorite picture of me and him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y40/paws8920/Im%20So%20Impulsive/File0001-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y40/paws8920/Im%20So%20Impulsive/File0001-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I knew nothing about riding like that before starting with my last trainer. My edges were rough and sharp. They still kind of are. I guess I’ll always be a rough and tumble rider. Bad habits are hard to break, but they were habits that kept me alive in a very unsafe situation. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The few years following my short show career, I tried the college thing. Community college didn’t agree with me. Still doesn’t. Explains why I dropped out four years ago and just now started back up. While in the middle of that gap, I worked a lot of odd jobs, including running a boarding stable. I absolutely loved that job. It kept me active and fit, but at the same time exhausted. Shortly after that job, I got a desk job. Sitting for 8 hours a day was the worst possible thing I could have ever done. I was pushing 190 after the first couple months.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Luckily, a gym opened up next door. In the excitement of a new gym with new machines, I joined. It was great… at first. Even if I just went for 30 minutes, I felt like I was accomplishing something. Then it became crowded. VERY crowded. I would get there at 4:30 and nothing would be available! No treadmill, no elliptical, no bike. Nothing! I’m not a weight girl, especially with sweaty, smelly men grunting obnoxiously. It was seriously a jock fest joke back there. While I understand the importance of weights, I just couldn’t bring myself to rub elbows with those slobs. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I did start walking at home though. If I could steal a treadmill for at least a mile or two, I would go home and walk my dogs 2.5 miles (I had a safe route). It paid off! At the same time, I was watching what I ate like a hawk. Severely limiting myself so I could go out and drink on the weekends and not feel guilty.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">I did too much of that. June 2010. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/39175_1560513569909_1147380073_31624052_70317_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/39175_1560513569909_1147380073_31624052_70317_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Spinach smoothies and kale were an almost every day occurrence in my life. I give those two vegetables a lot of credit. At the same time though, I was burning myself out. My skin was clear and I was dropping weight fast. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My lowest was 143. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Niagara Falls May 2010.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/32210_1471056893548_1147380073_31375828_4178523_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/32210_1471056893548_1147380073_31375828_4178523_n.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Sweating my butt off at the barn. July 2010.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/38695_481813839516_816009516_6715461_7961212_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/38695_481813839516_816009516_6715461_7961212_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I had never been happier with my weight. At the same time though, it was VERY hard for me to maintain. Constant exercise of 5-8 miles a day, no unhealthy foods, no cheating period! That isn’t something I can deal with very well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t think anyone can stick to that for too long! We are only human after all. I started to slack late summer of 2010, after dropping over 40 lbs. Only by slacking I mean walking 3 or so miles a day, eating a little more indulgently (gasp, sushi with white rice!), and generally enjoying life. I wasn’t being naughty by any means (aka drinking like a lush), but my body reacts differently. Slowly, the weight crept back up. I can deal with the 150’s and 160’s. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Early August 2010. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/40343_1547550538904_1539286135_31359993_4139118_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/40343_1547550538904_1539286135_31359993_4139118_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m very comfortable there! Maintaining it wasn’t something I got a chance to do. Why?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Disaster stuck.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Middle August 2010.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/39792_1562075648960_1147380073_31628235_7506592_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/39792_1562075648960_1147380073_31628235_7506592_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well, sort of. A cat bit me. She was a regular cat, who wasn’t diseased or wild. My Pitbull, Trixie, tried to make a snack out of my sister’s cat. I tried to intervene and I failed. The cat bit me instead of the dog. Within a couple hours, my hand ballooned up. I cleaned it out very well, iced it, and took some Amoxicillin. The following morning, my hand was the size of an oven mitt. A visit to the hospital and they immediately hooked me up with an IV and started intravenous meds for a good portion of the day. The hospital sent me home with more meds and instructions to rest and let my body fight the bacteria off. Bad idea! By that midnight evening, I was squeezing pus out of my hand. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My bosses threatened to fire me if I missed work the following day. So there I went, into work with my hand leaking pus. Around noon, I was starting to get woozy and sick. After they screamed at me to suck it up, I got up and left. They received an angry phone call from my folks when I was ushered into emergency surgery. I could have lost my damn hand or died of blood poisoning! Luckily, I went in soon enough. Had I waited till 5 pm, it would have been a very different story.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After all that was said and done, the wound on my hand had to be kept open. It freaking hurt. Swinging my hand in a walking motion killed. Squeezing anything was not an option. I walked a little here and there, but without my dogs it was 100% not enjoyable. They are a two hand walking herd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then came the holiday’s. I ate and drank my way into a new jean size. By then though, I was back in the gym, but at that point, it was too late. I was on the steady gaining trend. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’d lost all motivation to get skinnier by March. Rough winter, even worse time at my job, and I started school again. After work, I raced to my night class. Since my gym was 30 minutes away from my school and school was an hour away from home, I couldn’t deal with arriving home at 11pm. Nor was it fair to my dogs. The gym was limited to 2 days a week and I didn’t go on the weekends. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">During the summer I walked as much as I could outside. I was taking summer courses though; 3 hour long classes. By the time I got home it was dark, I was hungry, and had homework. My days off of school consisted of homework and housework. Sure, I could have budgeted my time better, but I didn’t. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I wasn’t physically exhausted, but mentally. Things at work were getting progressively worse. My former bosses were unpredictable and at times abusive for no other reason then they could be. I also was struggling with school. They are freshmen classes and should be a breeze. Either I’m stupider then my fellow classmates or was lied too. These community college classes are ridiculous. I went back to school mainly because I hated my job and I knew my time there was limited. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Fast forward through a summer of getting a new house (rehabbing the hell outta it), wedding planning (aka spending $$$) and lots of events (weddings, showers, 30<sup>th</sup> birthday parties). I was no happier and now physically tired. Literally every weekend from June till our own wedding was an event. Then come August we spent every weeknight down at the new house till midnight, renovating. I spent most of my time working on the landscape while Ron was inside. Weeding 3 acres in 90 degree heat wasn’t my best idea, but it needed to be done. I should of lost 50 lbs with how much I was sweating. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Our wedding was a complete relief. We spent a week in the PNW for our honeymoon, though it didn’t feel like one (another story in itself). The week I went back to work was the week I was laid off. They figured with all that wedding money we just received, that we would be fine. What they failed to realize is that it had been spent on bills from our renovations. I was laid off so their damn niece could keep her job, or for that matter, MY job. I’ll never work for another close-knit family owned business again. Family shouldn’t come first, experience should. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now here I am. Jobless, miserably jobless. I’m completely unemployable as well. My only stipulation is I need $9.00 or more an hour. Reason being because anything less and my unemployment pays more. It’s so shitty that in this country you can’t work even the most basic of jobs without a degree. Experience and character counts for nothing. My options are limited to retail or manual labor, all minimum wage. So for now, I will continue to babysit (until a job comes along or unemployment runs out) a little here and there and plug my way through school. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have plenty of time to get into the gym, but I don’t. I’ll go sit in the parking lot and look at it. I’m having the worst time rationalizing torturing myself (because that is what the gym is for me) to lose weight, only to gain it all back again. I hate this game. I always lose. My metabolism never reset itself, and I followed all the guidelines and rules. The only way I stay in a healthy weight range is with tons of exercise. Hardcore cardio is VERY uncomfortable for me. Mainly, my hips can’t take it. Walking is it. So is pilates, when my teacher isn’t going through a life crisis. Strict diet as well. Absolutely no cheating or basically enjoying of the finer things life has to offer. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The motivation isn’t coming back this time. Maybe I’m being lazy. Or maybe I’m finally admitting to myself I have deeper issues that need to be resolved before distracting myself with my weight. I don’t know. I’m so close to canceling my gym membership. I don’t see the point anymore. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It would be nice to have something to look forward. Setting goals only depresses me. Goals are empty promises. I feel absolutely no gratification in losing weight. That could possibly be my issue. What happens if or when the weight comes off, again, and I’m back to feeling this way? <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I hate being directionless. I know longer know where I want to be or how I want to get there. Or anywhere for that matter. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I hate that as a person I’ve become so obsessed with numbers I can’t enjoy anything without feeling guilty. I don’t blame anyone but myself, but I do believe fitness/health Bloggers made it worse. I’ve considered cutting the cord and deleting everyone out of my reader and in the Blog tab in my bookmarks. The more time I read about everyone else’s life, the less I like mine. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I hate that I can’t afford the help I need most of all. New gym, new trainer, new therapist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My last therapist was a joke. She was a Jabba the Hut in female form and downright nasty. How can I take advice from someone who can’t take care of their self? I’m in deep money shit and so is Ron. We are being very frugal about Christmas this year; to the point I don’t believe we are exchanging gifts. I’m pretty downtrodden about it as well. I LOVE giving gifts! Nice doesn’t always equal expensive, but cheap is as cheap does. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Outside of the money issues, weight problems, and general crap, I still feel grateful for having a roof over our heads, my husband’s job, and the two furbabies keeping me warm on those cold, lonely nights. I know I’m being greedy, wanting more, but who doesn’t? Shouldn’t I want the most out of this life? Not everyone gets half as lucky as I do and I don’t get half as lucky as other. I’m not satisfied at all. <o:p></o:p></div><!--EndFragment-->abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-47940356402091529222011-11-26T15:27:00.001-06:002011-11-26T15:54:32.908-06:00AvoidanceSometimes I have a hard time writing down my feelings. Or typing down. Whatever.<br />
<br />
I've been teetering on the depressed side of life these recent days. Mother Nature is not cooperating. I don't mind the cold, but I do mind the darn wind and rain. I'd rather it snow then be so muddy out. The wind we've had the past couple days has been intense. I walked the pups yesterday and my face is chapped. Ugh! My skin is already in breakout mode. Just want I need. Putting up my tree did perk up my mood. Then I remembered the lack of money to spend for Christmas. Oh well, my tree turned out good this year.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/get-attachmentaspx-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/get-attachmentaspx-2.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><br />
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I've been trying to figure out what is up with my skin lately. I'm not sure if it's the new supplement I'm taking (MSM) or the cherry concentrate. The only reason I'm taking both is because of my bad hand. I literally could not open it or type because of the joint pain. The doctor said I would have arthritis in that hand for life, but holy guacamole. I picked up some of <a href="http://michellesmiracle.com/">Michelle's Miracle</a> cherry concentrate after reading it was an absolute hit in the arthritis world. Mix a tablespoon or two in with your water and after two weeks you should feel a difference. I will say my hips aren't bothering me nearly as much as they have been.<br />
<br />
Last week was relatively boring. This week, crazy. It's to be expect with the holiday and all. My healthy sweet potatoes were a hit, as was my pumpkin pie. I even did mini pies this year. I, of course, ate myself into stretchy pants. Made sure to bring a pair! Thanksgiving at my folks is always followed by napping on the couches and later usually an intense round of Dominos. This year everyone sat around, talked, played with my Aunt's 16 week old Doberman puppy, and drank lots of Asti. No Dominos, we are saving it for Christmas. It was nice to see everyone and have a CALM and relaxing Thanksgiving with my mom's family. We will have both sides over for Christmas.<br />
<br />
Then you have my husbands huge family. We really don't see eye to eye. His family holiday's are loud, awkward, and uncomfortable. He has 5 aunts, all who are very judgmental and stubborn as mules. Heaven forbid someone be different. Unfortunately, his mom absolutely killed the turkey this year and I couldn't stomach much else. They are more of a box and can family then true homemade meals like my own. It really isn't that difficult to prepare homemade meals. Ron made green bean casserole, with real green beans. It was great! I also made healthy sweet potatoes. We did this all the day before, so all we had to do was bake and serve. Easy peasy. A little planning never hurt anyone! My folks both work full time and still managed to pull off a great meal. His mom works part time. No excuses! I could have helped her if she asked.<br />
<br />
Real food is how I was raised. Canned and box foods for holiday's is not and never will be right for me. Number one I hate prepackaged foods (except Macaroni, my crux), number two it's generally devoid of all nutrients, and number three it's lazy. Holiday's are special! Extra effort is required.<br />
<br />
I just can't deal with his family holiday's. His father and stepmomster are the absolute worst hosts. It is extremely uncomfortable. Their house is filthy and their dogs are very aggressive. After the row I had to endure with his stepmomster during my wedding (she wanted to invite 20 family members we have never met, and not pay a dime), and the fact she never apologized, I will not be attending their Christmas Eve this year. My husband and I will drive separate cars. Christmas day we will also do the some. I'll spend most of the day with my family and we will see his in the evening. His mom's house isn't very big, and they usually cram 30+ people in it. Too much chaos for me.<br />
<br />
I'm out to enjoy the holiday's this year. My husband feels obligated to appease both his parents, but honestly, they divorced years ago, he's a grown ass man, and now married. They have no right to get pissed off at him for not spending the entire day with each parent. It's not possible.<br />
<br />
I hate to sound like a bitchy snob, but I know that is exactly what I'm being. My family has adopted Ron as their own son and his family has yet to show me an ounce of respect. After about 6 month into the relationship I realized they were never going to truly be kind, I gave up trying. No one is blatantly rude to my face, it's more of what they say behind my back. It eventually gets to Ron, then to me.<br />
<br />
I might as well be an alien to those people. I swear they would be much happier if Ron went ahead and married his psychopath, epileptic (crashed three cars, one into a house), Bible-humping ex. She siphoned money off him like a sponge and was terrible to him, but she was right up their alley.<br />
<br />
I'll never understand his family. I was raised too differently. Ron is nothing like them, thank goodness.<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading my all out, whiney bitch rant. Cookies for all.abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-49160078194823240022011-11-09T14:21:00.000-06:002011-11-09T14:21:46.885-06:00Where for art thou Pho?I'm in desperate need of Vietnamese Pho. It's like heaven in a bowl, with noodles. This is my feel good food and I only seem to get it when we are in a different state. Like Oregon or Washington. Their Asian communities are huge, unlike Chicago. There are a few Pho places downtown, but we haven't tried them yet. I'm doubting they are on par with the West coast Pho restaurants.<br />
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<br />
Instead, I'm hoping to take a trip to Chinatown and visit an Asian supermarket and pick up the Pho essentials. I found a fantastic crockpot recipe.<br />
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<a href="http://steamykitchen.com/3136-crock-pot-pho.html">Steamy Kitchen's Crock Pot Pho</a><br />
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Number one, it's fuss free. Number two, my house will smell amazing. Number three, it's Pho!<br />
<br />
I snagged my dad's old, BIG crockpot for this recipe and cannot wait to try it! With the weather turning nasty so soon, I'm craving all my favorite soups. In the mean time I'll boil down the bag of chickens feet I snagged at the last farmer's market. If you want the best chicken broth on the planet, you have to use chickens feet. I like to have stock in the freezer for "health emergencies". As in I'm too tired and sick to cook anything, so I thaw stock and throw in some veggies.<br />
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<a href="http://nourishedkitchen.com/the-chicken-soup-cure/">Nourished Kitchen's Chicken Soup Cure</a><br />
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I always feel better after a hot bowl of homemade soup. Now I know why.<br />
<br />
I'm a very firm believer in natural remedies over antibiotics. While they have their time and place, pharmaceutical companies are creating super-bugs with their super-antibiotics. Our bodies are getting to the point where we can't fight off simple viruses on our own. I don't like that. Not one bit.<br />
<br />
When I feel a cold or sore throat coming on, I drink ginger tea. It's super easy to make and everyone I've made it for is hooked. All you do is peel a chunk of ginger, slice it thin, boil it till the water is straw yellow, and serve with honey in a mug. It's a bit strong in flavor, but I absolutely adore it. The tingle is warming and the honey soothes.<br />
<br />
I also love apple cider vinegar. Now, this is something that is an acquired taste. I don't always drink it straight. Sometimes I mix it in with a cup of warm water. The health benefits outweigh the taste though. This stuff is the bomb for sore throats. If it doesn't kill the bacteria enough to cure you, a doctor visit is usually in order. Generally, this does the trick. I'll actually drink a tablespoon or two a day then gargle with a shot of warm water till I feel I've coated my throat. It stings a little, depending on the rawness.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://bragg.com/products/bragg-organic-apple-cider-vinegar.html">Bragg's Apple Cider Vinegar</a> is my favorite brand and the only one I will drink or gargle.<br />
<br />
I've done the salt water gargle, the cayenne pepper gargle, and the lemon gargle. From my experience, the apple cider one is hands down the best for sore throats. Followed by the ginger tea with honey, I'm all set. It's even better with a gigantic, steaming bowl of homemade chicken soup.<br />
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In the mean time, chicken soup will have to fill my Pho void. And while I wait for that, guess I better go fold that laundry.... >:(abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-89162261539940653882011-11-06T00:01:00.001-05:002011-11-06T00:09:26.117-05:00Bad News BearsThe Chicago Bears generally suck IMHO. But I'm not talking about them.<br />
<br />
Don't they say bad things come in three's?<br />
<br />
-Jobless<br />
<br />
-Furnace (as in really-expensive-potentially-spend-5k) problems<br />
<br />
-Old house (as in the one we moved out of) problems<br />
<br />
Unless, I'm counting wrong. Or the theory of three's doesn't apply. I hope the constant barrage of shit ends. Like, now.<br />
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On the flipside, my husband put up our temporary (but not), slightly redneck, dog fence. The Collie escaped again this morning, in 10 minutes flat. I can't take the stress of worrying about her. It's t-post and square wire. Nothing fancy, but it will work. Better then a dead dog on the side of the road.<br />
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My biggest, WORST fear.<br />
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We lost a dog before that way. A douche bag former boyfriend of my SIL's left our gate open at our old house one night. He really had no business going out that way. The gate was at an angle we couldn't see from a window or door. Well, not thinking, we let the dogs out in the morning. Sure enough, the gate was wide open. 20 minutes later on that 10 degree February morning, I went to let in the dogs. That's when I found the open gate. 2 hours of searching with the cops and animal control (which were awesome in that Ghetto town), one dog was hit and killed on a major south suburban road and the other scaled someone's 6 foot fence in terror. We assume she was traumatized after watching her best friend get killed. She wasn't the same after that. Either were we. From then on out, we padlocked that gate. NO ONE was aloud to use it as a door. Ever. I still miss our big, dumb mutt Dexter. He was so happy go lucky and a great protector. It wasn't even 2 years later we lost our Pitbull, his buddy Trixie, in a freak accident on our "engagement" trip.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Such a pretty girl. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/trix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/trix.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/DSC01706.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/DSC01706.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><br />
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She hung herself off the telephone pole, in our backyard, chasing something. The only time she wore her collar was when we went out of town. Our poor dog sitter, she felt so terrible. There is no one to blame but me, for not buying the dogs quick release collars, for not checking the yard, for not dealing with the pests...<br />
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Poor puppies. I still feel like a failure. Animals mean everything to me, and they died careless deaths. Because of me. I should of checked the gate and I should of checked the yard for dangers. Never thought to look so high up though.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">This is the only picture I have of Trixie and Dexter together. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/DSC00914-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e208/mysiguy/DSC00914-1.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">They were such good dogs. Thinking back to them is when I appreciate what wonderful puppies we have now. Both are rescues, like our late furchildren, and both couldn't make mommy happier! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When I count my blessings on days like today, I count them above all else. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-32047600932120206652011-11-01T21:53:00.001-05:002011-11-01T21:57:26.923-05:00TherapySome people need Prozac, Zoloft, or Lexapro. Some people need all of the above, and then some.<br />
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I need sunlight, 70 degrees, blue skies, and a long country road. Gravel, preferably.<br />
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I need fresh, organic meat, milk, and veggies. Fruit as well.<br />
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I need my dogs.<br />
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And lastly, I need my Gel Pro Mat and a sink full of dirty dishes that need scrubbin. You haven't lived until you washed dishes standing on a Gel Pro Mat!<br />
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I'm sure I'll regret those words soon enough, but oddly, I find washing our dishes by hand very therapeutic. Maybe it's the view from kitchen window, or the fact that the dishes are so pretty. I was never one to like plain white dishes. For a wedding gift, we received these gorgeous white dishes with a faint outline of a bare tree. Simple and stunning. They are relatively heavy duty as well. Hopefully, they will last us many years.<br />
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The pups and I had a nice walk today after I was done nannying. It's one of the last good days according to our Tom Skilling. I adore that weatherman! He rarely leads us wrong. A snowstorm out in the western plains will push in freezing rain later this week. Typical November. I keep hearing off hand people mentioning another hard winter. Can't wait...<br />
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I can't complain about this gorgeous, long fall we've had. After a non-existent spring, it's nice to have a real season change. The pressure change, I don't care for. After my hand surgery last year, it hurts when the weather changes. It was especially bad last winter, fresh wound and all. I had a dull ache all day. Not bad enough to take anything for, but strong enough I could feel it.<br />
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Another thing I'm sure I'll regret, but I am so looking forward to snow! Not the massive blizzard we had last year, but a good foot here and there. A cold, sunny day with nice layer of snow to tromp around in with the dogs is my favorite form of therapy in the winter. That and shopping.<br />
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Which reminds me... I need to call our road commissioner and ask him to plow our road.abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-45314535411700145192011-10-29T13:23:00.000-05:002011-10-29T13:23:53.699-05:00WTF?<a href="http://www.walmart.com/ip/I-Am-T-Pain-Microphone-White-and-Silver/16560504">http://www.walmart.com/ip/I-Am-T-Pain-Microphone-White-and-Silver/16560504</a><br />
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Sing like T-Pain with this microphone.<br />
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Seriously!?? WTF? Do you really want your children singing like some ghetto rat, who has no values, no education, nothing but Auto-Tune and douche bag gansta friends?<br />
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No wonder kids today are so damn screwed up. Glamorizing the "thug"life has done nothing for this country, but add onto the ever growing heap of bullshit. I don't giving a flying fuck if it's their "lifestyle" or how they represent their culture. The culture of Africa has nothing to do with the whatever the hell they are rapping about. Black, white, purple, or brown, this is the US of A. Pull up your pants, sing like a human being, and give children a decent person to look up too, T-Pain.<br />
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Freakin loser. I can't believe I just saw that commercial.abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-20816749022674136612011-10-28T18:12:00.000-05:002011-10-28T18:12:22.955-05:00Hello Friday!Today was a great day. Number one, it's Friday. Number two, I found something fun to do with my time.<br />
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I'm going to start nannying a couple hours a day starting next Monday. It might be temporary, it might be long term. Depends on how well we do together and whether or not I get a full time job. The little girl is the prettiest little diva around and SMART. Sign language, reading, colors, and will start numbers soon. She's only one! Well, one and a couple months. I LOVE kids that like to do stuff. I'm absolutely not a newborn person. I prefer older kids. More fun! Although, I do think boys tend to be more playful than girls. Anyways, I'm excited!<br />
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Number three, my husband and I are heading out for a Halloween Party tonight. I love getting dressed up! Last year we went as Vincent Vega and Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction. Everyone thought I really dyed my hair black and bobbed it. I had to pull off my wig at one point to convince people! It wasn't even a good wig. Must of been the alcohol and dim lights. I don't smoke by the way, it's just for theatrical purposes.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/66605_1662221845615_1539286135_31609878_259070_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/66605_1662221845615_1539286135_31609878_259070_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This year, I got a real wig. We drove up to a wig store in Markum a couple weeks ago. The owner's daughter gave me 40% off on a human hair wig, and honestly, it looks fabulous. If I can get my eyebrows to cooperate, I'll be set! FBI badge and all. Hint enough?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>"I WANT TO BELIEVE"</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Is that better? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Can't wait to get everything thrown together! Our favorite local band is playing tonight as well. They always show us a good time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We have another busy weekend ahead. Tomorrow is a friends wedding, our last of the year. Thank heavens. As much as I love weddings, we've been to far too many this year. This should be the fanciest one yet. The bride and her family have incredibly good taste. She was the makeup artist at my wedding and was phenomenal! Her bridal shower was just beautiful as well. As long as we don't party too hard, everything should be a go for Sunday. That is pumpkin carving day. It is an entire day ordeal at my folks. People get quite competitive. Prizes, food, pumpkin seeds. The whole she-bang. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At some point on Sunday I need to render the fat I picked up from the organic butchers. I'll be venturing into soap making after that. Once of course, I settle on the oils and fats I'd like to start off with. I've been reading a ton about it after being inspired by a local blogger/farmer. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://midlifefarmwife.blogspot.com/">http://midlifefarmwife.blogspot.com/</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I buy my organic pork, beef, and raw milk from her farm. I've also been buying her handmade soaps. She uses her very own organic pig fat and produces absolutely wonderful soaps. The lather is fantastic and so is the rinse. I'm very picky when it comes to soap. I also love how she isn't wasting the commonly looked over by-products of an animal. So few people realize what soap once was and what is SHOULD be. Instead, everyone thinks that chemically laden soaps, like Dove and Dial, are normal and ok. NO, they are NOT ok. I'd rather bathe my body with something natural, rather than harsh dyes, fake scents, and sodium lauryl sulfate. Our skin absorbs those chemicals. No thanks! I'll stick to what Mother Nature intended us to bathe with. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The milk I've been buying from her is in a league of its own. Just like their website says, it tastes like melted ice cream. I see nothing wrong with drinking whole milk, unlike many of my friends. As long as it's in moderation, why not? The benefits outweigh the downsides. Drinking unprocessed milk is also incredibly good for you. Rather than ramble on about milk, I'll pass on this link. Please read it if you are interested! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.raw-milk-facts.com/raw_milk_health_benefits.html">http://www.raw-milk-facts.com/raw_milk_health_benefits.html</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm quite the foodie. Very much into organic and clean eating. I'll admit I have my week moments. Particularly when it comes to Culver's Pumpkin Pie Cheesecake shake. It's heaven on a spoon. No one is perfect, but I try. My husband enjoys my adventurous cooking. He used to be such a stick in the mud when it came to trying something new. Now, that isn't the case. Unless peas are involved. He won't touch those. That's ok, I'll take all the peas I can get! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-18866758981582635052011-10-27T11:02:00.002-05:002011-10-27T11:12:09.899-05:00Brr n Grr<div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">The downside to living in an old (probably 100 years old) farmhouse is the oil furnace. For some reason, it's hooked up so we actually have to go down into the dark, smelly basement and turn the sucker (or blower) on. Then it roars to life and slightly stinks up the house. I had a dream last night it was leaking oil. I've not yet checked it, mainly because I don't want to go down there. It's really creepy and I don't do stairs in the morning. Or ever. </div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 19.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I'll happily bundle myself up on the couch, in the sunlight, until my husband turns into a human (without coffee, he resembles a something straight outta a horror movie). I might be chipper as a songbird in the morning, but my coordination is lacking. Our stairs to the upstairs are slightly steep and narrow. A couple weeks ago I missed a step and tumbled my way down. Talk about ouch. Other times I have slid down on my ass. My middle name should be Grace. The stairs to the basement end on a concrete floor. I <i>really </i>don't want to go kerplunk down those bastards. The old farmer who lived here before us did something wonky with those steps as well. A couple actually fold up. So, if I step the wrong way, the stair step flips up. I'm pretty positive I will break my leg going down there. To prevent that day, I prefer to use the basement steps. Oddly, we have two entrances into the basement. Concrete steps from the garage, and then crazy wooden steps from inside the house. One day, hopefully soon, when we upgrade our electrical, we will put a deep freezer down in the basement. That's the day I will happily go into stankment. I mean basement. </div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 19.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Speaking of freezers, I completely loaded ours up yesterday. It's bad to the point if you open the door too fast, something will crush your toes. I really need a deep freezer. Actually, I really need an electrical upgrade on the house for that extra 40 amps of power. Then I can take a shower with my little heater plugged in while my husband is on the computer in the other room. Wouldn't that be something?! Gosh, that would be the day. Taking a shower without that heater is NOT an option. There is no heat register in the room. It's a strange set up there, positively. This house mainly subsides on the heat rising from down stairs. Heat that is, if we turn on the furnace. It's suppose to freeze relatively good tonight. I suppose we will turn it on for a little bit before bed. </div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 19.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">The downside to the furnace in this house is the fact that we cannot leave it in the winter. Sometimes Ron and I like to take short winter trips. If or when we do, someone has to either stay here or stop by to turn the heat on once or twice a day. Otherwise there will be frozen pipes! I'd love to have a HVAC guy check out this situation, but the last time we had it worked on, an $800 came along with it. For reasons we cannot understand either. Ugh. I won't go there. </div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 19.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Anyways, for now, we are extra chilly. But I hear you burn more calories that way! In my case, a little extra goes a long way! No, not really, but I like to think it does. I hate to exercise in the winter and around here, it gets mighty cold. I've been walking up and down our road (2 miles) daily and loving it.<br />
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It's easy to see why I love it.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/get-attachmentaspx-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/get-attachmentaspx-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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My dogs enjoy it too. Well, the puppy does. Dutch, she's a sensitive girl. A overweight and lazy kind of sensitive. She doesn't like gravel and basically doesn't like to move, unless there is something that requires barking at. Our Dutchy girl is also quite the escape artist. Here, she demonstrates not moving. </div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Dutch has never been one to stay in the yard. She believes wandering is her basic right. Which is probably why she was an emaciated stray when we picked her up from the pound two years ago. With a lot of love and food, she really turned into a great dog, minus the Houdini act. We've run two trolley lines for the dogs out the back door. Our puppy could do without one, he's a really good boy.<br />
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This video shows how good my boy is. And how annoying my Collie can be.<br />
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<a href="http://s1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/?action=view&current=IMG_1946.mp4">http://s1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/?action=view&current=IMG_1946.mp4</a><br />
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Our Collie girl though, man. The neighbor brought her back on Sunday. He lives over a mile away, across a very busy road. What a nice guy. At least we know who's driving the semi down our road constantly. It's also nice he notices where our damn dog belongs. Dutch was only out for a half hour! For now, she is banished to my parents house. They have a fence and my sister loves that dog. We are researching new harnesses as well. Putting in an electric fence is going to be $1900. Finishing the PVC fence is going to be $2500. A new harness or chicken wire is going to have to do for now. I love my Dutchy girl, even though I want to strangle her every time she escapes. It's hard to be so mad at that sweet face though!</div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/320942_2414430477298_1147380073_32960570_431281099_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/320942_2414430477298_1147380073_32960570_431281099_a.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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</div>abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3273402377954338147.post-649652695099207092011-10-26T11:58:00.002-05:002011-10-26T15:24:01.613-05:00Starting Anew<b>June 2011</b>: We were told of a country home, on 3 acres, that needed TLC, but was available for an outrageously good price.<br />
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<b>July 2011</b>: We went to the place, saw the potential, and dived in!<br />
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<b>August 2011</b>: We spent a small fortune rehabbing the house (IE: plumbing, electrical, carpets, paint, removing wallpaper, everything, ect ect). My folks now call it the Plantation. There was also an entire spring/summer worth of weeds that needed serious taming. With a little help from a great landscaper, the weed beast was beaten into submission.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/270315_2245126164796_1147380073_32750601_3585524_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/270315_2245126164796_1147380073_32750601_3585524_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<b>September 2011</b>: We moved in! Then slowly, but surely, unpacked, re-arranged, and decorated the house into something purty. It's still a WIP.<br />
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<b>October 2011</b>: MARRIED! October 1st, 2011, on a 65 degree, sunny, amazing autumn afternoon, we said "I DO" with all our friends and family to see. It was so perfect, I couldn't ask for a better day.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/Ashley-Ron-Fall-Country-Wedding-lauriepeacock-111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/Ashley-Ron-Fall-Country-Wedding-lauriepeacock-111.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/Ashley-Ron-Fall-Country-Wedding-lauriepeacock-106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/Ashley-Ron-Fall-Country-Wedding-lauriepeacock-106.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/Ashley-Ron-Fall-Country-Wedding-lauriepeacock-113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee495/ronandash/Ashley-Ron-Fall-Country-Wedding-lauriepeacock-113.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div><br />
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<b>Now</b>:<br />
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Well, after a crazy busy, horribly stressful winter/spring/summer of rehabbing and wedding planning, our lives took an unexpected (but somewhat expected) turn. I was laid off last Friday. We didn't think it would be so soon. I was actually expecting it after the holiday's. Not a week after we returned from our honeymoon. Now I wish we wouldn't have taken one. That's $1000 we could have saved. Even though all of our rooms were paid for in advance, as well as the airfare, we spent a pretty penny on wine, food, and other things. I mean, you don't go to Oregon and Washington, with their amazing wine and incredible, locally sourced food and NOT spend money. I'll admit we might have overdone it on the wine, but thing is I'm cellaring it all. We will have one bottle on our anniversaries until we are out. Then it's time for a trip back, or move. I shipped home 10 amazing bottles of vino. When an older lady overheard my idea at a tasting room, she was nearly in tears when she came over to talk. She told us she was a romantic at heart, and wished she would of thought of that idea 40 years ago. It was endearing and sweet. So, at least I have that thought in my head and am not completely regretting the trip. I do regret shipping the $300 worth of fish, crab, clams, and scallops home though. Then again, how was I to know I'd be laid off so soon?<br />
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All the money we received from the wedding was used on house bills. Had I known I'd be without an income, I would of dragged out payments a lot longer. Oh well, less bills I suppose. We still have a couple of large ones, including carpet, heating (damn expensive oil furnace), water systems, and my credit card. Ok, maybe more than a couple. It's a little scary, but I think with proper budgeting, we will survive. What scares us the most is the unexpected. For example, the day before our honeymoon, our puppy decided to bloat. He was screaming crying in pain. Luckily, it wasn't bloat. The vet basically told us our baby is a fat ass and overate. We found out he ate his sisters food and had two bowls of his own. Shame on mom and dad for not conferring and feeding the baby twice. $350 later at the emergency vet, our minds were put at ease. Damn dog.<br />
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ANYWAYS, yes, we are scared. Yes, I've filed for UE. Yes, I'm looking for a new job. But what kind? If I can get a full time job, hell yes. If not, I'll work part time and take more classes at our local community college. If I can make enough dough to cover these classes, we can survive off my husbands income, hopefully.<br />
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Right now I'm optimistic. It varies, usually by the hour. Depression isn't an option for me. I won't let myself do what I did last winter, when we were still in our old house. We were struggling to find a buyer, find a new place to live, and I recently lost my wedding venue. Then come summer, everything fell into place. Amazing house, incredible venue, school going well, job good.<br />
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I've got my hopes reserved, because I really don't think people get as lucky as we did twice. Then again, it doesn't hurt to have a little, right?<br />
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Now, we are starting fresh. A new house, a new life together. Maybe, just maybe, I'll figure out what I'd like to do with my life.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">It would be a start! </div>abuzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844190591546945398noreply@blogger.com2