Allow me a moment to vent.
Why? Because it's my blog. That's why.
So for 18 months now, I've been waking up at the crack of dawn and running. About 3 times a week. And during the spring and summer and early fall, it's actually quite pleasant.
But during the winter, it SUCKS. It SUCKS to wake up and step outside to sub-zero temperatures while the rest of the family slumbers. It SUCKS to have to concentrate so hard on an activity that's relatively mindless. I should be able to let me brain wander, but I have to keep looking for potential obstacles like black ice and cars that don't scrape off their windshields completely before attempting to drive. It SUCKS to wear three layers of clothes and still come home cold.
But you know what SUCKS the most? What my biggest frustration is right now? Because it's not the current state of the house in which I reside. It's not that my kids fight like cats and dogs. It's not that I can't get J. to wake up for the bus.
It's that, despite getting up 3 days a week at 5:30 to run outside in arctic temperatures and doing these stupid DVDs six days a week that I've barely managed to start getting through the entire warm-up without stopping in the three weeks I've been doing them, I STILL gain and lose the same three pounds EVERY WEEK.
THE SAME lousy three pounds. And that's on top of the SEVEN pounds I gained while training for a freakin' marathon.
Now, before you all start jumping on me about not needing to lose weight and all that jazz, I realize it already. I realize that there are people with a weight problem and I am not one of them. But, I can tell you that 10 pounds ago, I was in the best shape of my life. And I'd really like to get back to that point. Or within 2 or 3 pounds of that point. I won't be picky.
But the snow and the cold and the wind is making it really difficult. And I just think that if the world was fair, if I'm wearing a headlamp and traction shoes to exercise, then I should be able to eat a stupid brownie. And an ice cream cone. And another brownie. And some chips. And a few handfuls of M&Ms. And the last sour patch candy cane. And maybe another brownie if I'm running the next day.
Just a thought.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Book Review Sunday
Book: The Council of Dads
Author: Bruce Feiler
Pages: 234
This was on the Readers Choice List for the library and it turned out to be pretty good. It went a different direction then I had originally anticipated, but overall, it was very thought provoking and a stark reminder that life is short.
Bruce Feiler, an author and journalist, found out that he had a rare form of bone cancer in his femur in 2008. His twin daughters had just turned three and he was afraid of leaving them without a father figure in their lives, so he set out to find a "Council of Dads", a group of men that were instrumental in his own live, to help steer his daughters in theirs should he pass away.
The book was very interesting in that the people he chose to be in his "Council" weren't necessarily the people you'd think. He didn't choose his brother or his own father, though both were huge parts of his life. He, instead, chose six friends from different areas of his life that embodied his own spirit so they could pass on that to his girls. Feiler figured family members would be a constant in the girls' lives and so he bypassed them to find other men who maybe wouldn't be as involved.
In the end, the book served as a reminder that life is indeed very short but our impact is huge. It got me thinking about who I might ask to be on my "council" should I find myself staring death in the eye. Who would I want my kids to turn to in times of trouble or question. What answers would I give them if I were there to give it to them myself.
This was a fast read and while not necessarily the best book I've ever read, it certainly was a good book to devote a few hours to.
Author: Bruce Feiler
Pages: 234
This was on the Readers Choice List for the library and it turned out to be pretty good. It went a different direction then I had originally anticipated, but overall, it was very thought provoking and a stark reminder that life is short.
Bruce Feiler, an author and journalist, found out that he had a rare form of bone cancer in his femur in 2008. His twin daughters had just turned three and he was afraid of leaving them without a father figure in their lives, so he set out to find a "Council of Dads", a group of men that were instrumental in his own live, to help steer his daughters in theirs should he pass away.
The book was very interesting in that the people he chose to be in his "Council" weren't necessarily the people you'd think. He didn't choose his brother or his own father, though both were huge parts of his life. He, instead, chose six friends from different areas of his life that embodied his own spirit so they could pass on that to his girls. Feiler figured family members would be a constant in the girls' lives and so he bypassed them to find other men who maybe wouldn't be as involved.
In the end, the book served as a reminder that life is indeed very short but our impact is huge. It got me thinking about who I might ask to be on my "council" should I find myself staring death in the eye. Who would I want my kids to turn to in times of trouble or question. What answers would I give them if I were there to give it to them myself.
This was a fast read and while not necessarily the best book I've ever read, it certainly was a good book to devote a few hours to.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Food Issues Version 2.0
It'd be comical if it wasn't my kid. It'd be funny if it wasn't so damn frustrating. But...I'm at my wits end here. I'm about to lose it.
Last night, we sat down to dinner. Another meal of "yuck." As one friend said, her friend--a mother of six--has taken to calling every meal "yuck". Different tastes, different textures, but all "yuck". When a kid asks what they're having for dinner she replies "yuck".
Yeah, I totally understand.
Anyways, we sit down and immediately, J. says "Ew. Icky." A. finds this very funny and repeats the sentence.
Isn't that cute? The girl won't talk except to say "ew" and "icky" at a dinner I spent TIME making.
No, I'm not bitter. Why do you ask?
Then J. pushes his plate away and A. copies that as well and so begins round 1 of our nightly dinner war.
Sidenote: It was never my intention to have World War III EVERY.SINGLE.TIME. I sat down to eat dinner with my darling husband and 2 children. I mean, did June Cleaver and Donna Reed flip out every meal? I would suspect not. Do other people live like I do? Is my home the only home in America enslaved in food wars?
Some nights are better than others, of course. The nights we eat tacos, for example. Or spaghetti. But, last night was not one of those nights, so the artillery comes out.
We spend 45 minutes trying to coax the kids into eating A BITE of their dinner. Mind you, they won't get anything more for the night, but I would feel a little better about the amout of time I took to make dinner and the effort I put into making dinner if they'd would just TRY IT before condemning it to the "ew. Icky!" pile.
Finally, we send J off to bed because A. would have most certainly eaten dinner had he not professed his hatred of my cooking so adamently. A., however, still refused to eat. So she went to bed too.
I wrapped up their plates in foil and placed them in the fridge for breakfast. I meant business! And overall, our evening was quite peaceful and relaxing.
This morning, we started up with round two. At about 10:30, Team Kids took their first casualty. J. relented and ate a piece of chicken (by which I mean a piece of chicken about the size of his pinkie nail). It was all we asked of him and he was set free in the pantry. A., however, didn't budge.
Waging the war alone, she has battled all day, closing in on 24 hours since she's had any morsel of food. She is only allowed to drink water and so far she shows no signs of breaking.
As a reminder J.'s doctor told us to do this with him and after 10 tries he'd eat. We're way past 10 tries now with A. I think J. has found his match. And that the doctor is an idiot. But I knew that beforehand.
I'd be worried, except for that A. FULLY understands what we're trying to get her to do. I even caught her trying to feed the cat her chicken.
And she's not sitting comatose on the floor staring into space, so I know she's not starving to death. I wish I would have written down J.'s record, but I remember it was a thimble-size amount of rice he had to eat and he held out for 26ish hours. A. might take the house record tonight.
So, little Miss Red-headed Curls--remember who you got that red hair from and don't mess with Mama Bear because you're going to lose!
I'll be damned if I have TWO kids who refuse to eat!
Last night, we sat down to dinner. Another meal of "yuck." As one friend said, her friend--a mother of six--has taken to calling every meal "yuck". Different tastes, different textures, but all "yuck". When a kid asks what they're having for dinner she replies "yuck".
Yeah, I totally understand.
Anyways, we sit down and immediately, J. says "Ew. Icky." A. finds this very funny and repeats the sentence.
Isn't that cute? The girl won't talk except to say "ew" and "icky" at a dinner I spent TIME making.
No, I'm not bitter. Why do you ask?
Then J. pushes his plate away and A. copies that as well and so begins round 1 of our nightly dinner war.
Sidenote: It was never my intention to have World War III EVERY.SINGLE.TIME. I sat down to eat dinner with my darling husband and 2 children. I mean, did June Cleaver and Donna Reed flip out every meal? I would suspect not. Do other people live like I do? Is my home the only home in America enslaved in food wars?
Some nights are better than others, of course. The nights we eat tacos, for example. Or spaghetti. But, last night was not one of those nights, so the artillery comes out.
We spend 45 minutes trying to coax the kids into eating A BITE of their dinner. Mind you, they won't get anything more for the night, but I would feel a little better about the amout of time I took to make dinner and the effort I put into making dinner if they'd would just TRY IT before condemning it to the "ew. Icky!" pile.
Finally, we send J off to bed because A. would have most certainly eaten dinner had he not professed his hatred of my cooking so adamently. A., however, still refused to eat. So she went to bed too.
I wrapped up their plates in foil and placed them in the fridge for breakfast. I meant business! And overall, our evening was quite peaceful and relaxing.
This morning, we started up with round two. At about 10:30, Team Kids took their first casualty. J. relented and ate a piece of chicken (by which I mean a piece of chicken about the size of his pinkie nail). It was all we asked of him and he was set free in the pantry. A., however, didn't budge.
Waging the war alone, she has battled all day, closing in on 24 hours since she's had any morsel of food. She is only allowed to drink water and so far she shows no signs of breaking.
As a reminder J.'s doctor told us to do this with him and after 10 tries he'd eat. We're way past 10 tries now with A. I think J. has found his match. And that the doctor is an idiot. But I knew that beforehand.
I'd be worried, except for that A. FULLY understands what we're trying to get her to do. I even caught her trying to feed the cat her chicken.
And she's not sitting comatose on the floor staring into space, so I know she's not starving to death. I wish I would have written down J.'s record, but I remember it was a thimble-size amount of rice he had to eat and he held out for 26ish hours. A. might take the house record tonight.
So, little Miss Red-headed Curls--remember who you got that red hair from and don't mess with Mama Bear because you're going to lose!
I'll be damned if I have TWO kids who refuse to eat!
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Thankful Thursday #1
Bare with me, the first few entries on Thankful Thursday are going to be no-brainers.
Up today is Wade. Obviously.
Wade is strange. He's odd. But he's mine. For.all.eternity. Some days I'm not sure how to feel about this. But today is one of those days where I'm glad for it.
I don't think there's another 32 year old on the planet that knows as much about random things as Wade. He's incredible. He will research and debate and comb through brain numbing statistics to make sure that anything he purchases, anyone he votes for, anything that might happen within the community, etc. meets his criteria of excellence. Rarely does he get it wrong.
It's hard to believe that this year, we're celebrating 10 years of marriage. There are times when Wade will do something and I'll wonder if I even know him at all. Even after ten years, he can still surprise me. Sometimes, I wonder if we'll ever run out of things to talk about, but so far we're going strong. We have our debates and our discussions and I really couldn't ask for a better soul mate. I'd go crazy if he was one of those boring blokes who doesn't have anything worthwhile to add to the conversation. I've listened in on conversations between wives and husbands that have almost brought me to tears because of how bland and boring they were. Wade and I like to discuss current events and politics at the dinner table. We discuss religion and work and hopes and dreams. I don't know if there's been a day where he hasn't blown my mind with some insight. He's amazing.
I can be pretty selfish with my time. I realize this and after much thought and consideration and discussion with others, I've come to see this as not a fault. Some people are happy devoting every last ounce of energy to their kids, but I never was. It drained me mentally and creatively and made me unbearable to be around. I need time for just myself. To engage in passions I have outside of my kids. Like writing and reading and socializing. Wade's very understanding about this. It's why I can be a member of two book clubs, a writing group, a bowling league (though that's when he's at work), Toastmasters and get togethers with friends here and there. Though the two book clubs and Toastmasters all meet on the same night, so I have to choose, it helps that he mostly encourages me to do these things so that I can release the stress of staying at home with kids all day.
Wade encourages me to be a better person. He is always willing to help out anyone who calls with a question about computers or cameras or electronics in general. He'll spend Saturdays working on other people's basements and showing them what to do--even if he did his own almost completely on his own using YouTube and some unfortunate soul at Home Depot, who had to answer questions fired at rapid-fire succession. He encourages me to look for the best in other people and to look for the best in me.
I'm definitely one lucky gal that he called me that fateful day in July. I'm even luckier that he didn't run screaming the other way in the 11 months we dated, because I certainly provided the incentive to do so.
Today, I'm thankful for my best friend and soul mate.
Up today is Wade. Obviously.
Wade is strange. He's odd. But he's mine. For.all.eternity. Some days I'm not sure how to feel about this. But today is one of those days where I'm glad for it.
I don't think there's another 32 year old on the planet that knows as much about random things as Wade. He's incredible. He will research and debate and comb through brain numbing statistics to make sure that anything he purchases, anyone he votes for, anything that might happen within the community, etc. meets his criteria of excellence. Rarely does he get it wrong.
It's hard to believe that this year, we're celebrating 10 years of marriage. There are times when Wade will do something and I'll wonder if I even know him at all. Even after ten years, he can still surprise me. Sometimes, I wonder if we'll ever run out of things to talk about, but so far we're going strong. We have our debates and our discussions and I really couldn't ask for a better soul mate. I'd go crazy if he was one of those boring blokes who doesn't have anything worthwhile to add to the conversation. I've listened in on conversations between wives and husbands that have almost brought me to tears because of how bland and boring they were. Wade and I like to discuss current events and politics at the dinner table. We discuss religion and work and hopes and dreams. I don't know if there's been a day where he hasn't blown my mind with some insight. He's amazing.
I can be pretty selfish with my time. I realize this and after much thought and consideration and discussion with others, I've come to see this as not a fault. Some people are happy devoting every last ounce of energy to their kids, but I never was. It drained me mentally and creatively and made me unbearable to be around. I need time for just myself. To engage in passions I have outside of my kids. Like writing and reading and socializing. Wade's very understanding about this. It's why I can be a member of two book clubs, a writing group, a bowling league (though that's when he's at work), Toastmasters and get togethers with friends here and there. Though the two book clubs and Toastmasters all meet on the same night, so I have to choose, it helps that he mostly encourages me to do these things so that I can release the stress of staying at home with kids all day.
Wade encourages me to be a better person. He is always willing to help out anyone who calls with a question about computers or cameras or electronics in general. He'll spend Saturdays working on other people's basements and showing them what to do--even if he did his own almost completely on his own using YouTube and some unfortunate soul at Home Depot, who had to answer questions fired at rapid-fire succession. He encourages me to look for the best in other people and to look for the best in me.
I'm definitely one lucky gal that he called me that fateful day in July. I'm even luckier that he didn't run screaming the other way in the 11 months we dated, because I certainly provided the incentive to do so.
Today, I'm thankful for my best friend and soul mate.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
What's For Dinner Wednesday--Cran-Orange Pork Tenderloin
I cheated this week. There was no new recipe for the week, BUT a few weeks ago I made this for my brother and sister-in-law and took it up to Primary Children's Hospital while they were there with their daughter after surgery. They liked it and Wade liked it, so I thought I'd share it because it was super-dooper easy and tasty.
I found it in the Taste of Home magazine my grandma has sent to me as a Christmas present. They have some really good recipes that use normal every day ingredients.
1/4 tsp garlic salt
1/4 tsp pepper
1/8 tsp ground mustard
1/8 tsp ground cinnamon
1 pork tenderloin
CRAN-ORANGE SAUCE:
1/2 cup dried cranberries (I used craisins)
1/4 cup plus 1 T orange juice, divided
1/8 tsp ground ginger
Dash ground cloves
1 can (11 oz) mandarin oranges
1 T cornstarch
In a small bowl, combine the first four ingredients; rub over pork. Place on a rack in a shallow roasting pan. Bake, uncovered, at 425 or 25-28 minutes or until a meat thermometer reads 160 degrees.
Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, combine the cranberries, 1/4 C orange juice, ginger and cloves. Drain oranges, reserving juice. Set oranges aside. Add reserved juice to cranberry mixture. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 5 minutes. Combine cornstarch and remaining orange juice until smooth; stir into saucepan. Bring to a boil; cook and stir for 1 minute or until thickened. Fold in oranges. Serve with sliced pork.
This was a really nice meal that was quick and tasty. I spread the sauce over the sliced pork and it was perfect, even if it wasn't as hot as I would have wanted due to the 40 minute drive to the hospital. My only complaint was that my pork tenderloin took longer to cook then 25-28 minutes. It was closer to an hour, but it was also a bigger tenderloin (closer to 2 pounds) and it was all I had on hand.
I served this with stuffing, apples and a salad. Yay for having a complete meal for once.
Nutrition info (on the pork tenderloin, not the sides):
Serving size: 4 ounces cooked pork
Calories: 242
Fat: 4 g (1 g saturated)
Cholesterol: 63 mg
Sodium: 163 mg
Carbohydrate: 29 g
Fiber: 1 g
Protein: 23 g
I found it in the Taste of Home magazine my grandma has sent to me as a Christmas present. They have some really good recipes that use normal every day ingredients.
1/4 tsp garlic salt
1/4 tsp pepper
1/8 tsp ground mustard
1/8 tsp ground cinnamon
1 pork tenderloin
CRAN-ORANGE SAUCE:
1/2 cup dried cranberries (I used craisins)
1/4 cup plus 1 T orange juice, divided
1/8 tsp ground ginger
Dash ground cloves
1 can (11 oz) mandarin oranges
1 T cornstarch
In a small bowl, combine the first four ingredients; rub over pork. Place on a rack in a shallow roasting pan. Bake, uncovered, at 425 or 25-28 minutes or until a meat thermometer reads 160 degrees.
Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, combine the cranberries, 1/4 C orange juice, ginger and cloves. Drain oranges, reserving juice. Set oranges aside. Add reserved juice to cranberry mixture. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 5 minutes. Combine cornstarch and remaining orange juice until smooth; stir into saucepan. Bring to a boil; cook and stir for 1 minute or until thickened. Fold in oranges. Serve with sliced pork.
This was a really nice meal that was quick and tasty. I spread the sauce over the sliced pork and it was perfect, even if it wasn't as hot as I would have wanted due to the 40 minute drive to the hospital. My only complaint was that my pork tenderloin took longer to cook then 25-28 minutes. It was closer to an hour, but it was also a bigger tenderloin (closer to 2 pounds) and it was all I had on hand.
I served this with stuffing, apples and a salad. Yay for having a complete meal for once.
Nutrition info (on the pork tenderloin, not the sides):
Serving size: 4 ounces cooked pork
Calories: 242
Fat: 4 g (1 g saturated)
Cholesterol: 63 mg
Sodium: 163 mg
Carbohydrate: 29 g
Fiber: 1 g
Protein: 23 g
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Book Review Sunday
Book: Unbroken
Author: Laura Hillenbrand
Pages: 398
Ah, the first book of a new year. Some years they're duds, but not this year. This year the first book was a winner.
I belong to two book clubs. The first one is a club where I'm the youngest member by about 20 years. There are six of us and four of the ladies are older than my mom. The fifth lady is the daughter of one of the other ones, but I'd say she's around 50. At first, I felt funny going. They are part of the other kingdom but the offending "princess" moved away. But, as it turns out, I really like going. They are people I wouldn't really socialize with outside of the book club because of our huge generational gap, but we all come from different walks of life and the discussions are both interesting and entertaining. Plus they tend to read books that are vastly different than the ones we read in Book Club #2.
Book Club #2 was the one that I helped organize on my side of the street. We have about five faithful members, though others will flit in and out during the year. We're all about the same age with about the same story and tend to read the same types of books every month. And so, while I really enjoy it, I enjoy it for different reasons than I do the first one.
To be honest, I thought one of the book clubs would flounder and I wouldn't have to choose, so I just kept going to both of them. But then, I really started getting into both of them and I realized I didn't want either of them to fail. So I've just been going to two book clubs a month.
What does this have to do with the book? Nothing really. Just that it was Bookclub #1's pick for January.
And I LOVED it. LOVED, LOVED, LOVED it. When it was picked, I hadn't heard anything about it, but over the last month, it's picked up some serious press. It's by the same person who wrote Seabiscuit. I hated the movie Seabiscuit, so I was a little nervous to pick up this book, but I'm glad I did.
What's it about? It's about Louis Zamperini, who was one of America's best middle distance runners in the mid 1930's. He went to the Olympics in Berlin in 1936 at just 19 years old. He was rumored to be closing in on the four-minute mile--a benchmark previously thought humanly impossible--when he enlisted in the air force in 1941 for World War II.
What happened after that is unbelievable. He went from being a hometown hero to being stranded out in the shark-infested Pacific Ocean on a lifeboat to a POW in Japanese labor camps. His family wouldn't hear from him in nearly 2 1/2 years. His experiences are a harrowing reminder of the sacrifices our military has made over the span of many years and wars to ensure our freedoms today.
With so much written about Germany's hand in the war and the atrocities that occurred under Hitler, it's easy to forget that Japan was just as cunning and evil. Zamperini's stories gave me goose bumps and I teared up on more than one occassion. It's hard to fathom that a person, or group of people, could be so mean and degrading to other human beings.
This book read almost like a novel. I found myself so nervous to see if someone made it out of the camps alive or not, I had to flip to the back of the book. I loved that Hillenbrand dove into Zamperini's history, before the war, and after. I got a true sense of who he really was outside of his experiences in the war, as well as how those experiences changed him when he returned home. She definitely did her research--it took her a reportedly 7 years to write the book--and the book is peppered with facts and statistics that really brought the whole thing full circle. It really hits home that he was younger than me when all this was happening.
Unbroken is a definite read. Obviously, I loved it because it combined two passions--running and World War II--but even if running isn't your thing, you would still find this to be interesting and, strangely enough, uplifting. If Zamperini survived what he did, then I can most definitely survive my trials. I love that Zamperini took up skateboarding in his seventies and is still alive at 93. However, it's a reminder that the last of those who fought in World War II are nearing the end and soon there will be no more survivors to tell these stories.
Author: Laura Hillenbrand
Pages: 398
Ah, the first book of a new year. Some years they're duds, but not this year. This year the first book was a winner.
I belong to two book clubs. The first one is a club where I'm the youngest member by about 20 years. There are six of us and four of the ladies are older than my mom. The fifth lady is the daughter of one of the other ones, but I'd say she's around 50. At first, I felt funny going. They are part of the other kingdom but the offending "princess" moved away. But, as it turns out, I really like going. They are people I wouldn't really socialize with outside of the book club because of our huge generational gap, but we all come from different walks of life and the discussions are both interesting and entertaining. Plus they tend to read books that are vastly different than the ones we read in Book Club #2.
Book Club #2 was the one that I helped organize on my side of the street. We have about five faithful members, though others will flit in and out during the year. We're all about the same age with about the same story and tend to read the same types of books every month. And so, while I really enjoy it, I enjoy it for different reasons than I do the first one.
To be honest, I thought one of the book clubs would flounder and I wouldn't have to choose, so I just kept going to both of them. But then, I really started getting into both of them and I realized I didn't want either of them to fail. So I've just been going to two book clubs a month.
What does this have to do with the book? Nothing really. Just that it was Bookclub #1's pick for January.
And I LOVED it. LOVED, LOVED, LOVED it. When it was picked, I hadn't heard anything about it, but over the last month, it's picked up some serious press. It's by the same person who wrote Seabiscuit. I hated the movie Seabiscuit, so I was a little nervous to pick up this book, but I'm glad I did.
What's it about? It's about Louis Zamperini, who was one of America's best middle distance runners in the mid 1930's. He went to the Olympics in Berlin in 1936 at just 19 years old. He was rumored to be closing in on the four-minute mile--a benchmark previously thought humanly impossible--when he enlisted in the air force in 1941 for World War II.
What happened after that is unbelievable. He went from being a hometown hero to being stranded out in the shark-infested Pacific Ocean on a lifeboat to a POW in Japanese labor camps. His family wouldn't hear from him in nearly 2 1/2 years. His experiences are a harrowing reminder of the sacrifices our military has made over the span of many years and wars to ensure our freedoms today.
With so much written about Germany's hand in the war and the atrocities that occurred under Hitler, it's easy to forget that Japan was just as cunning and evil. Zamperini's stories gave me goose bumps and I teared up on more than one occassion. It's hard to fathom that a person, or group of people, could be so mean and degrading to other human beings.
This book read almost like a novel. I found myself so nervous to see if someone made it out of the camps alive or not, I had to flip to the back of the book. I loved that Hillenbrand dove into Zamperini's history, before the war, and after. I got a true sense of who he really was outside of his experiences in the war, as well as how those experiences changed him when he returned home. She definitely did her research--it took her a reportedly 7 years to write the book--and the book is peppered with facts and statistics that really brought the whole thing full circle. It really hits home that he was younger than me when all this was happening.
Unbroken is a definite read. Obviously, I loved it because it combined two passions--running and World War II--but even if running isn't your thing, you would still find this to be interesting and, strangely enough, uplifting. If Zamperini survived what he did, then I can most definitely survive my trials. I love that Zamperini took up skateboarding in his seventies and is still alive at 93. However, it's a reminder that the last of those who fought in World War II are nearing the end and soon there will be no more survivors to tell these stories.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Happy New Year!
Some time last week, I opened my freezer in the basement and noticed a large turkey in there. So I thought what better time to cook a turkey than New Years. And so I invited my parents out for dinner. Then I thought maybe my brother and sister-in-law, who have spent 23 straight days in the hospital with their daughter, who is recovering from surgery could use a good meal. They can get a day pass if my niece is feeling well enough. And luckily, today, she was.
So I got some recipes from my mom and some advice on how to prepare a Thanksgiving feast for New Years. And then I promptly forgot all her instructions, like start the day before. I mean, what fun would it be if I started early and it wasn't stressful.
No fun at all, that is.
This morning, Wade woke up absurdly early to run to Walmart and Home Depot to check out their Christmas Clearance items and I set about preparing a turkey for the oven.
At precisely the time I had my one hand stuck halfway inside a turkey trying to extricate various body parts that don't belong in there, the phone rang and it was Wade, asking my opinon on...
something. Lights, or cups or wrapping paper or something. I don't remember because I was otherwise occupied.
I finished the turkey, got it stuffed with homemade (yes, homemade--and it's DELICIOUS. So much better than Stove Top) stuffing and everyone showed up with their various contributions. I wasn't all that stressed out, considering.
And it was good. Dang good. And a great way to start the new year. Family and good food.
Happy 2011!
So I got some recipes from my mom and some advice on how to prepare a Thanksgiving feast for New Years. And then I promptly forgot all her instructions, like start the day before. I mean, what fun would it be if I started early and it wasn't stressful.
No fun at all, that is.
This morning, Wade woke up absurdly early to run to Walmart and Home Depot to check out their Christmas Clearance items and I set about preparing a turkey for the oven.
At precisely the time I had my one hand stuck halfway inside a turkey trying to extricate various body parts that don't belong in there, the phone rang and it was Wade, asking my opinon on...
something. Lights, or cups or wrapping paper or something. I don't remember because I was otherwise occupied.
I finished the turkey, got it stuffed with homemade (yes, homemade--and it's DELICIOUS. So much better than Stove Top) stuffing and everyone showed up with their various contributions. I wasn't all that stressed out, considering.
And it was good. Dang good. And a great way to start the new year. Family and good food.
Happy 2011!
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