tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25672443904421805262024-02-21T22:13:35.464-08:00A Little Something SweetJesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.comBlogger134125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-41770408452444205742011-07-15T08:54:00.000-07:002011-07-15T08:54:19.200-07:00Dear Cupcake: Thanks for the CanklesDear Cupcake,<br />
<br />
I am often flooded with moments of pure adoration of you even though you haven't made your official appearance in the world just yet. Even when you have your little bum up under my rib cage, and I can feel you boxing my bladder, I am in awe of the fact that you're inside of me. A growing person. Woah!<br />
<br />
I do have one bone to pick with you, though. That bone is cankles. Never before in my life have I known what it felt like to have my calf merge seamlessly with my ankles until now. I look at my swollen piggies every night, and I have to remind myself that all of this fluid retention is going to go aways once you get here. I try to remind myself of what my feet used to look like. Thin. Veiny. Small. I have gone up a shoe size to accommodate the swollen features of my new appendages. Sad news.<br />
<br />
So, amidst all the wonder and joy and kicking and fluttering and awesome that is you, I have found myself looking down in total shock as my ankles have earned themselves fat wrinkles by the end of each day. Cankles are one of the few things I would give back. I'd give them back before I gave back 6-weeks of 24 hour a day nausea. Now that's saying something.<br />
<br />
xoxo,<br />
MommyJesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-2493965662444357522011-06-16T10:12:00.000-07:002011-06-16T10:12:54.165-07:00The Odds Are Not in His Favor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihMKvz_rOy3xpk74XRVQ1cV7X06D_EhpHS_w-7c4Gifzsx7JMWUwh_rNb9hdPEapFdzfcutXnooM1Xf1laYaOU7Ho6Rew0shyphenhyphenA16oLbyYFF9hiRo7RRIL93KZJH-s1-NZ330Vu2gfgZA2m/s1600/hiding_The_art_of_hiding-s500x333-38562-580.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihMKvz_rOy3xpk74XRVQ1cV7X06D_EhpHS_w-7c4Gifzsx7JMWUwh_rNb9hdPEapFdzfcutXnooM1Xf1laYaOU7Ho6Rew0shyphenhyphenA16oLbyYFF9hiRo7RRIL93KZJH-s1-NZ330Vu2gfgZA2m/s320/hiding_The_art_of_hiding-s500x333-38562-580.jpg" t8="true" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
Maybe that title is a cheesy reference to The Hunger Games. Would you judge me if it was? What if I told you I was going through withdrawls after reading all three books in six days? I bet you'd still judge me.<br />
<br />
Your judgment is neither here nor there today. Today, we're going to take a brief moment (and post) to chuckle to ourselves that the Cupcake seems to have daddy sensing skills in the womb. When Shannon is around, she is quiet as a mouse. As soon as he's lost interest in staring at my belly or waiting for her to kick him in the hand, she does some new, spastic, Lady Gaga-inspired dance move that makes my whole stomach jump. <br />
<br />
I feel like she may be taunting him. If she is, she is clearly already taking after her mother who has a rotten streak a mile long. And who enjoys terrifying her husband at every possible opportunity by hiding in random places throughout the house, quietly waiting for him to pass by. <br />
<br />
She makes me laugh already.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-41152369541227888692011-06-07T06:41:00.000-07:002011-06-07T06:42:47.440-07:00Building a Registry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs_yGY9fH6l187kihqy583m6uPkunG4WgvCX-pkFhESAt2tghMzvHAT_NOYd6thXyGA2rWyIQYg82WtwSv56T-kHm5g6EPaHBea7wZahzm4xbhRHQy1PjM3e0BrJAcOJa3g6C2drjAx7mS/s1600/baby-bottle2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs_yGY9fH6l187kihqy583m6uPkunG4WgvCX-pkFhESAt2tghMzvHAT_NOYd6thXyGA2rWyIQYg82WtwSv56T-kHm5g6EPaHBea7wZahzm4xbhRHQy1PjM3e0BrJAcOJa3g6C2drjAx7mS/s320/baby-bottle2.jpg" t8="true" width="153px" /></a></div><br />
For a really long time, something like, say, six months, I thought that building a baby registry was going to be simple. We'd go in, scan our items and be out the door in a snap. I fantasized about how easy it was going to be to the point that when the scan gun was finally in my hand last night, I had truly convinced myself that I would be back out of store numero uno in less than an hour.<br />
<br />
How wrong could one gal be?<br />
<br />
Two hours after our arrival at Target, we were still stumbling aroun the aisles looking at the overwhelming number of items and wondering to ourselves if it was possible to be so utterly confused about what seemed such a simple task. I mean, how hard can it be to pick out bedding? What exactly is so compicated about identifying and selecting swaddling blankets? Is there really a science to picking out the onsies that you want?<br />
<br />
The answer to all of those questions quickly became apparent. It is difficult. It is challenging. To be honest, I have never felt quite so overwhelmed in my whole life. And why? Because what if I <em>forget</em> something important and <em>remember</em> something useless? The pressure was (is) fairly high. If I didn't know better, I would have thought that I was trapped in some sort of high-stake, life-or-death battle. As it was, I left the store with a copy of our partial registry in hand and a feeling of certainty that I forgot something huge.<br />
<br />
I mean, I'm well aware that I didn't register for a breast pump or a bottle system, but I also know that I need to attend a breastfeeding class before I can make an educated decision. Hence while I'll be checking out the schedule for said classes and registering for one today. Even things as straightforward as breastfeeding become terror-inducing when I'm given the right combination of time and pregnancy hormones. And, trust me, right now I have the perfect combination of both.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-49275786055695491462011-05-29T10:21:00.000-07:002011-05-29T10:23:56.642-07:00Dear Cupcake: Zombie DreamsDear Cupcake,<br />
<br />
Even though we've begun writing in your baby book, I want to take a little bit of time each week to write about something that isn't necessarily baby book worthy. There are so many stories I want to remember to share with you when you get here, but I know that the "baby brain" I've developed during my pregnancy is going to make it difficult to share everything with you. Sometimes, I can barely remember the food I ate for lunch, let alone the date, time, and location of the first time you karate-chopped my bladder. So these will be my love-letters to you while you're still baking in my belly. I promise not to be too inappropriate (we almost bought the Inappropriate Parents Baby Book for you the other day), and I'll try to keep the sappiness to a minimum. After all, you're going to be surrounded by sappiness when you finally get here in September.<br />
<br />
Today, I'd like to tell you about the insanely vivid dreams that I have been having while I've been pregnant. I don't want to scare you, so I'll leave out the terrifying bits of last night's dream, but suffice to say that I am tired of dreaming about the zombie apocalypse. It seems as if zombies are my go-to nightmare fodder, and I have been remembering everything about those dreams when I wake up from them. I've been told it's because my sleep cycle has changed so dramatically while you've been here, and I am fairly certain the science behind that is true. What I am not certain about is why zombies have become the most dream-worthy topic of my subconscious in the last few months.<br />
<br />
Last night's dream involved zombies wielding staple guns (which is obviously not possible since their deceased flesh could not create enough force to actually deploy a staple), a Christian day camp, President Obama, Paris Hilton, and a fireplace poker. It also included Arnold Schwarzenegger sexually harassing women in a one-seater bathroom. Does any of that make sense? Absolutely not. I still woke up in a terror, looking around the bedroom for any sign of the zombie that had been pursuing me in my sleep. Thankfully, nothing was there to startle me. It was a really great piece of serendipity that your daddy came home from work right about the same time because I wasn't having a very easy time falling back to sleep.<br />
<br />
And what happened when I fell back asleep? Another bizarre dream that was a combination of the <i>Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows Part 1 </i>flush yourself into the Ministry of Magic scene with the polar bear from <i>Lost </i>and the maze-like sequences from Doom. Did I mention that through all of this I was unable to do anything but crawl? Yeah. It was unfortunate to say the least. My crawling skills are sub par after a solid 30 years of walking on two feet.<br />
<br />
So, there you have it, Cupcake, your presence in my belly has been creating some of the most ridiculous dreams of my life. But unlike all of the baby books and websites that say I'll be dreaming of things associated with past boyfriends or unfinished business or failing as a parent, I'm dreaming of ways that I'm going to have to save you from zombies. Of all the things in the world, Cupcake, zombies.<br />
<br />
Your daddy did make a valid point, though. He reminded me that the reason I'm probably so apt to be terrified of zombies (even though they are the stars of my favorite horror/suspense films and some of my favorite comic books) is because they are the creature from our imaginations that are most likely to actually become real. So possible, even, that the CDC even released its own version of the Zombie Survival Guide a few weeks ago. When the CDC gets involved, poking fun or not, you know something's up.<br />
<br />
The good news amongst all of this? I'm still sleeping pretty well. And I love my naps. It seems like every time I wake up, you wake up, too. Last night, after I walked around the kitchen and fell back into bed with sleep still in the corners of my eyes, you were there kicking a few tap tap taps on my left side. Reminding me, I'd like to think, that's it's all just a dream. It was comforting to know you were still there, safe and sound and snuggly in my belly. You're the best feeling in the world to fall asleep to, even if I know that zombies are on the side of my closed eyelids.<br />
<br />
xoxo,<br />
MommyJesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-6248135172708785382011-05-28T18:19:00.000-07:002011-05-28T23:22:45.260-07:00A Long Time ComingA long time ago, in a living room not so far away, I promised a redesign. It may have taken me a while, but that redesign I was talking about is finally here. It's not a minute too soon either. Although, I do feel inclined to say that there were serious reasons for the delay.<br />
<br />
The most serious delay came due to the fact that I spent a solid six weeks enduring the joys of round-the-clock morning sickness. It was all I could do to force myself to eat a bowl of cereal (the only thing I could keep down, oddly enough), let alone focus my short attention span on anything resembling a redesign. <b> </b><br />
<br />
<u><b>Scoreboard</b></u><b> </b><br />
Procrastination: 0<br />
Morning Sickness:<b> </b>1 <br />
<br />
After the morning sickness decided to go it's merry way (around week 12 of my pregnancy), Shannon and I began the hunt to find a new apartment/house to rent. Frankly, the idea of living in a one-bedroom, shotgun-style home (even with a bonus room) with a newborn was not the most appealing. I had it in my head that we could find a nice place for a bit of an increase in rent. Suffice to say, the rental market is currently flooded with folks who have lost their homes due to foreclosure, and those individuals who haven't lost their property are looking to make a quick buck by renting just about anything they deem habitable. I find a lot of what other people deem habitable inhabitable. Therefore, after much searching and viewing and attempting to make a square peg fit into a round hole, we gave up our search for a new place. Instead of going the "easy" route and relocating, we've decided to flex our DIY muscles and attempt to make this house work for at least another 18 - 24 months. We figure, the Cupcake won't be big enough to get into any real trouble in the first two years, and we can definitely make this house work with a bit of ingenuity and determination.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Scoreboard</u></b><b> </b><br />
Procrastination: 0<br />
Stress-Inducing House Hunt: 1<br />
<br />
Once the decision to stay was made, you would think that life would decide to cooperate and quit being so testy. Alas, my personal life may have fallen into order, but my professional life kicked it into high gear. April is the equivalent of the Armageddon in my field, and I spent the vast majority of the month stuck in a sad, sad cycle of work, home, eat, sleep, work. It was non-stop until April 27, by which point, would you have noticed if I had update the design? No. You'd probably already moved onto bigger and better blogs. I wouldn't have/don't blame you.<br />
<br />
<u><b>Scoreboard</b></u><br />
Procrastination: 0<br />
Month from Hell: 1<br />
<br />
Now, here we are, 26 weeks into pregnancy numero uno, and I just now got around to updating the old blog and giving her a facelift. Most of this month has been spent spending money at Lowes and figuring out how to turn bookshelves into walls. While it may sound thrilling, it's been exhausting. We love what's happening in the house - things are really starting to pull together in ways that I never really thought possible - but we're also trying desperately to get the vast majority of our cleaning, painting, organizing, and rearranging done before 1) the disgusting heat of Missouri summer decides to descend upon us with her oppressive nastiness and 2) I become so big and unlimber that I'm unable to be of any assistance whatsoever. At the moment, aside from not really lifting anything too heavy, I'm still able to assist in getting things together. A few more weeks, though, and I'm afraid the belly, the swelling, and the slow seep of third trimester tiredness may get the better of me.<br />
<br />
<u><b>Scoreboard</b></u><br />
Procrastination:1<br />
Home Renovation: 1<br />
<br />
I'm going to go ahead and give myself at least one point in the procrastination department. I have had a few evenings while the hubs has been at work in which I could have focused on the redesign. Instead, I watched Season 2 of True Blood. I have to be honest and chalk that up to good, old-fashioned procrastination. So, at the end of the day, the Redesign Scoreboard looks a bit like this.<br />
<br />
<u><b>Final Scoreboard</b></u><br />
Procrastination: 1<br />
Serious Reasons: 4<br />
<br />
With that being said, though, I've managed to find the time and the will to put the whole idea of a redesign into motion, and I'm pretty pleased with the current outcome. I'm sure, now that I have a handle on banner pixel sizes and all that goodness, that we may redesign once again when the Cupcake arrives in September. You know, between the sleepless nights, breastfeeding, and other assorted business that we'll be doing in the Casa de P. For the time being, I'm satisfied just have something a bit crisper (and pink) to call my own.<br />
<br />
Be warned, though. This means that you're going to start reading a lot about baking and babies. And baking babies. Though not in an oven. You know, baking them in untero.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-23659297436224733442011-03-24T09:21:00.000-07:002011-03-24T09:21:44.343-07:00RedesignIn the magazine world, it's a death sentence. In the world of blogging, it happens all the time. <br />
<br />
I'm going to be taking some time this weekend to spice things up around ye old blog. A new banner perhaps. Color and font tweaks. Some content organization. The blog equivalent of painting the walls and hanging some new artwork.<br />
<br />
It'll be much along the lines of what I'll be doing once we find a new house/apartment to rent. Thankfully, this will require less cleanup.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-14530399472743205532011-02-25T12:21:00.000-08:002011-02-25T12:21:58.605-08:00Scary Movies Aren't My Thing, But I Watch Them Anyway<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2mTWvpD89sL6hc5-Q_fauwTagOSPXrKDQ3r8oiNUtJ0uPN3AEuPx_ZIRcOdj59pqncqoORlLF_YmVbFO091pR54UOaGSgha5dAz-_mAcULDvpAbY7k0eyM5UNwi2RtRW4mRYHtAkyxB3K/s1600/paranormal-activity-2-premieres.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2mTWvpD89sL6hc5-Q_fauwTagOSPXrKDQ3r8oiNUtJ0uPN3AEuPx_ZIRcOdj59pqncqoORlLF_YmVbFO091pR54UOaGSgha5dAz-_mAcULDvpAbY7k0eyM5UNwi2RtRW4mRYHtAkyxB3K/s320/paranormal-activity-2-premieres.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paranormal Activity 2</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I need to learn my lesson and stop watching horror movies. I say this over and over to myself after every scary movie I watch, and I still manage to watch another. It's as if the mere fact that I mention that I won't watch another one increases my likelihood to do so.<br />
<br />
Case in point? I watched <em>Paranormal Activity 2</em> twice in the last week.<br />
<br />
The first time, I was with my students. My college-aged students. It was part of a conference experience. It was also an intiation right of passage for one of our newbies. We called it the "BIBO" initiation. Blood in. Blood out. But we're not a gang, I promise. We did cause the newbie in question to almost wet his pants, though. There may have been some hiding and jumping out at an appropriate scary moment.<br />
<br />
I am still laughing to this day. Priceless.<br />
<br />
The second time I watched, it was with the hubs. We had been talking about how we wanted to see it - primarily because we weren't too thrilled with the first - and I felt I'd betrayed our pact by seeing it on my own. Thus, we watched it a second time last night.<br />
<br />
Can I tell you something? It was a bad idea. A really bad idea. I had nightmares all night. I kept waking up expecting to see someone standing over my bed staring and rocking. Bad news.<br />
<br />
So why would I put myself through it? The nervousness. The paranoia. The inexplicable feeling of being eight-years-old and afraid of the dark. I have no idea. <br />
<br />
But I know that in a few weeks Shannon will say something about how he wants to see such and such scary movie, and I'll ultimately say "sure" without a second thought.<br />
<br />
I think I have a problem.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-47720419648795115712011-01-25T07:58:00.000-08:002011-01-25T07:59:13.336-08:00Gaggity Gag Gag<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLY1wlLjmQzdxPekWMsQiMgb1qBLu8DbzlIQVim8i0sb5dr5vmU87_iVnLGdvHiU6fBTqdICL_4rVZzKuajl1Nz5pNmAVrHEENLbMtzghf2Nyew8vmMA2aGDWkQ70PzKSJuiTWEd0ypb6j/s1600/picGsGLVq.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLY1wlLjmQzdxPekWMsQiMgb1qBLu8DbzlIQVim8i0sb5dr5vmU87_iVnLGdvHiU6fBTqdICL_4rVZzKuajl1Nz5pNmAVrHEENLbMtzghf2Nyew8vmMA2aGDWkQ70PzKSJuiTWEd0ypb6j/s320/picGsGLVq.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corn and pea salad - gag</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Lately, a lot of foods have made me a bit gaggy. I attribute this to my changing palate in the winter months as well as my sensitive digestive system. Maybe sensitive isn't the right word. <br />
<br />
I think the word I'm looking for is volatile.<br />
<br />
Or maybe hateful.<br />
<br />
Word choice not withstanding, my digestive tract often rebels. Lately, it's been rebeling when it comes to all forms of vegetables. The picture above was enough to send me into spasms of disgust. I mean, it's not a pretty dish to begin with, but there was something about the combination of corn and peas in a liquid that's cold. <br />
<br />
*Shiver*<br />
<br />
It brought back memories of my fascination with aspic. I'm still fascinated. I'm just not as eager to make it. Go figure.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-68330148162026998352011-01-18T08:09:00.000-08:002011-01-18T08:09:28.064-08:00Sloth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii1QIRsdEKEGoqbogqFQjflhHtHGyY-pHaqaBTp_FeAeqhK18kApjNlg1ZIVV2BdQFJ2gyk1R8STVSVaADFXFV05pQF_Lmhyphenhyphen8ood_SkWWs5ebU2y0tU60ddHdiHfFXc9AHVPS4skUehVnE/s1600/yawning-sloth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii1QIRsdEKEGoqbogqFQjflhHtHGyY-pHaqaBTp_FeAeqhK18kApjNlg1ZIVV2BdQFJ2gyk1R8STVSVaADFXFV05pQF_Lmhyphenhyphen8ood_SkWWs5ebU2y0tU60ddHdiHfFXc9AHVPS4skUehVnE/s320/yawning-sloth.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I would like to say that I started the year out right, blogging on a consistent basis and keeping up with things as only I can pretend to be able. It just wasn't the case, though.<br />
<br />
I have started out the year this way.<br />
<br />
Tired.<br />
<br />
I think the three weeks of vacation that I took from my job have unintentionally turned me into a sloth. I miss nine hours of continuous sleep. I find myself falling into bed around 9pm to ensure that I'm getting said nine hours of sleep even though it means that I don't have a real life five days of the week. In all reality, it's getting kind of silly.<br />
<br />
In an effort to combat the sloth, I did 1 1/2 hours of Wii Fit Plus Snowball Fighting last night. Tonight, I'm hitting my favorite Piloga class (pilates/yoga combo, in case you didn't get the weird name reference). At some point, I might actually attempt to do a cardio class that will effectively wipe the floor with my face.<br />
<br />
All this being said, I am only mildly hopeful that I will put the sloth at bay. I feel as if the sloth may take residence, in some ways, until the spring. Until the arrival of longer, sunnier days perhaps.<br />
<br />
I feel as if I need to toast the arrival of the sloth.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-20830261830568155732010-12-28T08:38:00.000-08:002010-12-28T08:40:12.375-08:00Ah-mazing Rice Krispy Treats<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfcFdlFfTyMbvO25-peJKeGGXwQ82wH-iFNhlrsXWBW7u49De3K4FRSvos2dJGR__HUQR7Se-TLar6wrR3wwod836plTHu-DLCwqbT8S0HtmIotEXLg-bwb9MAyHJgr2rxo9tiPAFoJqbG/s1600/P1013326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfcFdlFfTyMbvO25-peJKeGGXwQ82wH-iFNhlrsXWBW7u49De3K4FRSvos2dJGR__HUQR7Se-TLar6wrR3wwod836plTHu-DLCwqbT8S0HtmIotEXLg-bwb9MAyHJgr2rxo9tiPAFoJqbG/s400/P1013326.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Christmas isn't over just yet. At least not in this household. I say this only because I haven't been able to bring myself to take down the Christmas tree or empty out my stocking. After all, we just received a few really amazing ornaments as gifts in the last few days, and I'd hate to miss displaying them for at least a week or so.<br />
<br />
Besides, if you'd like to get technical, we're in the midst of the 12 Day of Christmas right now. So, I really shouldn't be contemplating the removal of our Christmas tree until Epiphany on January 6. How do I know this? Christmas Eve Trivia with the Bogdajewicz side of the family. I'm really not brilliant enough to come to my own defense when it comes to Christmas decoration removal.<br />
<br />
Even if you're done with Christmas, I think you'll appreciate this tasty little recipe. If you're hosting an appetizer night for NYE like my friends, or just planning to take some treats with you to a get together, you can't go wrong with decadent Rice Krispy Treats like these.<br />
<br />
<u><b>AH-mazing Rice Krispy Treats</b></u><br />
Makes approximately 30 - 40 treats depending on size<br />
<br />
8 cups Rice Krispies<br />
2 cups creamy peanut butter<br />
24 oz. vanilla bark<br />
10 oz miniature marshmallows<br />
<br />
Combine cereal and marshmallows in a large bowl. Set aside.<br />
<br />
Lightly coat a large jelly roll pan or cookie sheets with edges with non-stick spray. Set aside.<br />
<br />
Place vanilla bark and peanut butter in a microwave-safe bowl. Melt on regular power for 45 seconds. Stir. Continue to melt the peanut butter mixture in increments of 30 seconds, stirring between each. When the mixture is completely melted and smooth, pour over cereal and marshmallows.<br />
<br />
Stir the cereal and peanut butter mixture until completely coated. Transfer to the prepared jelly roll pan. Using a spatula, evenly spread the mixture across the pan. Allow to cool for at least 15 minutes before cutting into squares.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-91877419325205424212010-12-20T16:08:00.000-08:002010-12-20T16:09:32.328-08:00Stocking Stuffer Idea #2: Microphone TongsI originally found these little buggers on the Yahoo! list of "things no one wants."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGK8G3fbT0YMf-736dnVW5IlLcMECaeg3lsIYmv8S4CCBOgGeGXT0Lz7kz3_S8HwKlnCGdTLrhZoQQbm03fi6_Vr91YgSqcIXcyxM07o4QWW2D99ephv5ZkURGzWWw7sODD8xH4hSl6rzn/s1600/microphone-tongs-3-lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGK8G3fbT0YMf-736dnVW5IlLcMECaeg3lsIYmv8S4CCBOgGeGXT0Lz7kz3_S8HwKlnCGdTLrhZoQQbm03fi6_Vr91YgSqcIXcyxM07o4QWW2D99ephv5ZkURGzWWw7sODD8xH4hSl6rzn/s400/microphone-tongs-3-lg.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I have to respectively disagree, though. They're fantastic, and I think they'd be a hoot in someone's stocking this Christmas. Hint hint, husband.<br />
<br />
If you need them for Christmas, or, well, any sort of gift giving situation, you can find these awesome tongs <a href="http://www.coolstuffexpress.com/microphone-sing-along-tongs.html?feed=Froogle">here</a>.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-59197441835200453442010-12-19T08:28:00.000-08:002010-12-20T16:02:58.257-08:00Operation Cupcake: Red Velvet<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU1opzhyphenhyphen0BnYhN0nVqoBucQdl87YKBYW28I1KbLZhnjVuoMfReKkVB0wClC9acUMnbH7GrDvQdOjkCy8kyqcCvArgEgSN4AxFaLNeiCwtH-dTKxoyARBmWpLh_Bwnxuk42l1keGhcDrC81/s1600/P1013289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU1opzhyphenhyphen0BnYhN0nVqoBucQdl87YKBYW28I1KbLZhnjVuoMfReKkVB0wClC9acUMnbH7GrDvQdOjkCy8kyqcCvArgEgSN4AxFaLNeiCwtH-dTKxoyARBmWpLh_Bwnxuk42l1keGhcDrC81/s400/P1013289.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Naked" red velvet cupcakes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>My coworkers at the full-time "grown up" job were well aware that I was undertaking the making of massive numbers of cupcakes for my good friends' wedding on December 11. I mean, I took a personal day so that I could spend it in the kitchen baking. To say that they were in on the gig is doing little more than telling the truth.<br />
<br />
Everyone knew. EVERYONE.<br />
<br />
Of course, the first thing I was asked when I returned to the office was, "How did it go?"<br />
<br />
The second thing I was asked was, "Where are our cupcakes?"<br />
<br />
See, I had promised cupcakes with the good intention of bringing into the office the cupcakes I had left over from scrap batches on Friday. The problem? I didn't have any left to bring into the office. So I had two options: I could ignore the pleas for cupcakes and pretend I had no idea that I had promised to bring them in, or I could man up and make another special batch for the people that spend the most time with me outside of my husband and dog.<br />
<br />
I chose the latter, obviously. I have learned one thing during my short time on this planet, if nothing else, and that is that one does not fail to provide cupcakes when they have been promised.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKJ2h0MY7DMBUgIRNSOJSOafFi4vZbYB_UWfGdZlEjuB8FCrv3Lbq-58MsG6PhYoA4-pv5u9pjaF3reoomBmb5ZCL94MwKkcAtrgg-4sQ3LIUoTo8x2zrM8R1Ysfit36RkIlhTH_GanbUD/s1600/P1013295.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKJ2h0MY7DMBUgIRNSOJSOafFi4vZbYB_UWfGdZlEjuB8FCrv3Lbq-58MsG6PhYoA4-pv5u9pjaF3reoomBmb5ZCL94MwKkcAtrgg-4sQ3LIUoTo8x2zrM8R1Ysfit36RkIlhTH_GanbUD/s400/P1013295.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I like to wear PJs when I bake. Comfort is key, dang it!</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Thankfully, I have been lucky enough to produce cupcakes en mass in the last few weeks. This means that I am becoming ridiculously adept at working my way through batter preparation, baking, and decorating in a short amount of time. Total time to make these cupcakes? 1 hour 30 minutes. I was a cupcake goddess for all of one evening. It was glorious.<br />
<br />
I am happy to say that I brought zero cupcakes home. I made 30, gave one to Shannon for his patience and will power in not eating the buttercream straight out of the mixing bowl, and took the other 29 to work. All gone by 5pm that day. It was a moment to be savored.<br />
<br />
I'm sharing this recipe so that you'll make and savor your own cupcakes. While you're doing that, I'm going to make some cookies and assorted sweets with my good friend Steph today. Look for those recipes and photos throughout the week. What better way to countdown to Christmas than with cookies? Or cupcakes...<br />
<br />
<u><b>Red Velvet Cupcakes</b></u><br />
adapted to cupcake form from the Food Network<br />
makes 30 cupcakes <br />
<ul><li class="ingredient">2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour </li>
<li class="ingredient">1 1/2 cups sugar </li>
<li class="ingredient">1 teaspoon baking soda </li>
<li class="ingredient">1 teaspoon fine salt </li>
<li class="ingredient">1 teaspoon cocoa powder </li>
<li class="ingredient">1 1/2 cups vegetable oil </li>
<li class="ingredient">1 cup buttermilk, at room temperature </li>
<li class="ingredient">2 large eggs, at room temperature </li>
<li class="ingredient">2 tablespoons red food coloring (1 ounce) </li>
<li class="ingredient">1 teaspoon white distilled vinegar </li>
<li class="ingredient">1 teaspoon vanilla extract</li>
</ul>Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. <br />
<br />
In the bowl of a stand mixer, combine the vegetable oil, buttermilk, eggs, food coloring, vinegar and vanilla extract. Beat on low setting until combined.<br />
<br />
In a separate bowl, combine the flour, sugar, baking soda, salt, and cocoa powder. <br />
<br />
Add the dry ingredients to the wet mixture in batches, waiting until the first batch is just incorporated before adding the second. Keep the mixer on low while you add the dry ingredients or you'll take a powder bath. Kick the mixer up to medium speed and stir until the batter is thick and combined.<br />
<br />
Line cupcake tins with paper liners. Fill each liner 1/2 full with batter. Bake for 20 - 22 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center of the cupcake comes out clean. Allow to cool on a wire rack.<br />
<br />
<u><b>Yummy Cream Cheese Buttercream</b></u><br />
makes approximately 4 cups<br />
<br />
1/2 cup shortening<br />
1 cup butter, softened<br />
1 pound cream cheese, softened<br />
1 teaspoon clear vanilla extract<br />
4 - 4 1/2 cups confectioner's sugar, sifted<br />
<br />
In the bowl of a stand mixer, cream together shortening, butter, and cream cheese until smooth. Be sure to scrape the sides with a spatula often. Add the vanilla extract and stir to combine.<br />
<br />
Add the confectioner's sugar to the cream mixture 1/2 cup at a time. Make sure the mixer is on low and that you scrape the sides of the bowl often. Once one batch of the confectioner's sugar is incorporated, add another 1/2 cup. Continue adding sugar until the buttercream is thick and smooth.<br />
<br />
If for any reason you have difficulty with the consistency of your buttercream, you can add a bit more sugar to thicken it up or milk to thin it. Add either one tablespoon at a time until you reach your desired consistency.*<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC1cdu72LO78-oVizHDXkGBxBR2mvnhdsJQQairyP7pHL_KJgNxq1d9yaE0qgD4B13bLvCReYqielQIUiyCZxc1oCmu0zlNaeNoQUKNajmQYg5d2KeNuffXCI1YcuOmMT50hlySPKSpYo4/s1600/P1013305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC1cdu72LO78-oVizHDXkGBxBR2mvnhdsJQQairyP7pHL_KJgNxq1d9yaE0qgD4B13bLvCReYqielQIUiyCZxc1oCmu0zlNaeNoQUKNajmQYg5d2KeNuffXCI1YcuOmMT50hlySPKSpYo4/s400/P1013305.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red Velvet Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Buttercream</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">You can pipe or spread the buttercream onto your cupcakes. I chose to pipe them to give them a sassy look before sprinkling red, green, and silver sugar crystals on the tops. Very holiday festive!</span> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> *Be careful when you're thinning this mixture as you don't want a soupy frosting for your (cup)cakes. Usually 2 - 3 tablespoons will do the trick!</span>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-21069828604075926412010-12-18T11:29:00.000-08:002010-12-18T11:29:00.110-08:00WTF? Band Nerd AwesomeAs a former band geek myself, I can totally appreciate how incredibly difficult it was to make this happen. <br />
<br />
Absolutely amazing. <br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/MREKsMPUdcg?fs=1" width="480"></iframe><br />
<br />
And well worth a Saturday quick post.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-84992166926787987432010-12-17T13:07:00.000-08:002010-12-17T13:08:35.801-08:00Mustaches!You know that mustache mold that I was talking about a few weeks ago? You know, this post <a href="http://asweetlittlesweet.blogspot.com/2010/11/stocking-stuffer-idea-1-chocolate.html">here</a>. Well, that mold finally showed up at my house last week.<br />
<br />
Last night, I got together with some of my very wonderful girlfriends for what I'm sure will be one in a series of many holiday dinners. We all shared little goodies with one another.<br />
<br />
My friend Steph bestowed upon each of us the following:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfzOaE52c_3wgifuKgyrtS2OguxU0b1SuW7ov0DO-wpyHsnHOBxUZQHX-COVXSBMG8GeQmDqLUH8U5kc7zTYZRzqPjwdvIH3M8HewagDT1KFowzZaXsS9z5fpzIMDBJOVTeocvexPG9Cek/s1600/157006_10150339595315068_586965067_16179571_1272492_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfzOaE52c_3wgifuKgyrtS2OguxU0b1SuW7ov0DO-wpyHsnHOBxUZQHX-COVXSBMG8GeQmDqLUH8U5kc7zTYZRzqPjwdvIH3M8HewagDT1KFowzZaXsS9z5fpzIMDBJOVTeocvexPG9Cek/s400/157006_10150339595315068_586965067_16179571_1272492_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Yes. Photos. Photos of her flipping us the double bird. Fantastic.<br />
<br />
Of course, this upped the ante a little bit, and I was starting to get pretty worried about the success of my mustache plan. I mean, I was giving my gifts right after her! How was I going to top double birded awesome with candy?<br />
<br />
Though she might have stolen my thunder initially, I'm pretty sure the mustaches were a hit. Or so the photo would imply.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMuIZKt-u-l2-knIdzGYoHoKAU-s5wcK4Q93pApnoJODmEggo6LWHspJHW8o7sxjgFhmBtNJZD1MsawDqtgy-f9wB4IgEoXNAOD3s0wrgWkdSaO_1DNw8izbnOS2DBeFRmp1QQ24qlMOPM/s1600/156637_10150339595680068_586965067_16179581_3991915_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMuIZKt-u-l2-knIdzGYoHoKAU-s5wcK4Q93pApnoJODmEggo6LWHspJHW8o7sxjgFhmBtNJZD1MsawDqtgy-f9wB4IgEoXNAOD3s0wrgWkdSaO_1DNw8izbnOS2DBeFRmp1QQ24qlMOPM/s400/156637_10150339595680068_586965067_16179581_3991915_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-5957740992388993852010-12-17T11:59:00.000-08:002010-12-17T11:59:40.412-08:00Radvent 12/17: Entertaining<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF-HO7tjb9GrGUQ0Vtm4A-RpVg17wIP2qLoq_iJDQs1f7KC5AiIWNMsJ0txUtpyiGPB51_itQPHvZdQgpyIPLlEAw-2dvRmyPL91k3RdXtC3wDnfXbj7U2-HB6nCWXQ50R8LYLRpnwOd2e/s1600/17166_532162745098_66702685_31531109_7277772_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF-HO7tjb9GrGUQ0Vtm4A-RpVg17wIP2qLoq_iJDQs1f7KC5AiIWNMsJ0txUtpyiGPB51_itQPHvZdQgpyIPLlEAw-2dvRmyPL91k3RdXtC3wDnfXbj7U2-HB6nCWXQ50R8LYLRpnwOd2e/s320/17166_532162745098_66702685_31531109_7277772_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
I consider the above photo to be epic in its epicness. I mean, we look rough. We look really, really rough. And you know what? The party the night before was one of the best I've ever been to in my 30 years. Truly.<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><br />
It's interesting that today's topic of journaling is discussing parties. For one, I'll be attending a pretty fantastic NYE party at our good friends' house. I'll be frank with you, any party that is based upon appetizer creativity is right up my alley. We'll be play Rock Band 3, noshing on good eats, and imbibing in our favorite cocktails. I really can't think of a better way to spend my NYE.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">______________________________________________________________________</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Write out some ideas for a <span style="color: magenta;"><strong>party</strong></span> that you want to host in the next four weeks</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black;">Who will you invite? What will you do? Where will it be?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: magenta;"><strong>What will you serve?</strong></span> How will you decorate?</div><div style="text-align: center;">______________________________________________________________________</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Shannon and I are obviously not hosting our friends' party, but that doesn't mean that we're absolved of all responsibility. Since we don't have to plan everything, I'm going to talk about what I am responsible for. I say "I" in as much of a couple way as I can seeing as Shannon will not participate in the making. He will participate in the eating, though. We (I) are (am) in charge of bringing our appetizer and dessert selections to share with the rest of the gang. We (I) couldn't be more stoked to stretch our (my) appetizer muscles. We (I) have tossed around ideas ranging from the good to the horrible, but here are some of the things that are hanging out in our (my) appetizer brain right now.</div><ul><li><div style="text-align: left;">fried macaroni and cheese balls</div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">spinach and artichoke dip</div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">homemade roast red pepper hummus</div></li>
<li>vegetable tartlettes</li>
<li>goat cheese and cranberry-stuffed jalapeno poppers</li>
</ul>I'm most excited about the idea of stuffing spicy peppers with creamy goat cheese and sweet cranberries. I might try this tomorrow just to see how it all turns out. It could go a few ways.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Let's be honest, though. Any (or all) of these ideas could be created in my kitchen in the next few days. I have very few qualms about spending my vacation time putting around in my kitchen. It's one of the delights of my time off, really. Of course, I know there will be plenty of baking that will happen as well. I have a laundry list of cookies that I still need to make. With that being said, I've already determined which dessert will be accompanying me to the NYE gathering.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">RUM CAKE.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I don't need to say anything more than that, do I? This is how I feel about rum cake.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN0FZyat81rGwdUVsJqB3kBRDFXGQ6hJJMMrmnBAQrQAjaMnb7_zEccWBU_WqUekPshd5Gpu-D1UDj0cWDn6laWOrsJNcR27R4nGl47CTo1BapbJO6xCbANCRgekqmoCQlPBj8bCTsHWQ_/s1600/31148_575020472869_66806161_32978211_4582051_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN0FZyat81rGwdUVsJqB3kBRDFXGQ6hJJMMrmnBAQrQAjaMnb7_zEccWBU_WqUekPshd5Gpu-D1UDj0cWDn6laWOrsJNcR27R4nGl47CTo1BapbJO6xCbANCRgekqmoCQlPBj8bCTsHWQ_/s320/31148_575020472869_66806161_32978211_4582051_n.jpg" width="202" /></a></div><br />
I might also feel this way about running. I was getting ready to run my first 5K when that picture was taken. So, yeah, I feel very thumbs uppy about rum cake and running. Maybe in that order, maybe not. <br />
<br />
Either way, I'm taking a rum cake. THUMBS WAY UP!</div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-43672260698507874012010-12-14T09:40:00.000-08:002010-12-14T09:40:49.879-08:00Radvent 12/14: Reading<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo85EkLD6BZ0u-xCLAWl573CdEKJ2ZKjzCHnGsevV0_WL4ind-Z9uUHMVp-KLuh7GRWfd25rlF2KGlMoNHVE1t4qrgx_teTeTBxSn9N1XCZfJxxdKLtN9Btq0XLnULBhMl-zjAQnfRvcm6/s1600/books460.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo85EkLD6BZ0u-xCLAWl573CdEKJ2ZKjzCHnGsevV0_WL4ind-Z9uUHMVp-KLuh7GRWfd25rlF2KGlMoNHVE1t4qrgx_teTeTBxSn9N1XCZfJxxdKLtN9Btq0XLnULBhMl-zjAQnfRvcm6/s400/books460.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">_______________________________________________________</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A DAY CAN SHIFT INTO A PROFOUND PLACE BY THE READING OF A </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: magenta;">single perfect sentence</span>, AT THE PERFECT TIME. - SARK</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">_______________________________________________________</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A quick snapshot of my favorite books:</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>Mrs. Mike</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>The Girls Guide to Hunting & Fishing</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>Sense & Sensibility</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>Eat, Pray, Love</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>Pride & Prejudice</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I began "reading" when I was three years old. I use reading in the loosest of terms because I really had no idea what the letters on the pages meant. All I knew was that when my mom read the book, she would say certain words and certain times. I watched when she turned her head. I noticed when she turned the page. I heard the stories over and over until my baby brain, like a dry sponge, started soaking up all the things she was saying.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">By the time I was three, you could pull any of my Little Golden Books off my bookshelf, and I could "read" to you, reciting the same words my mom said, shifting my eyes at the proper time and making sure to turn the page when we were supposed to move on to the next set. I was the coolest party trick on legs when it came to my parents' friends. While I don't remember the experience of fooling every last one of my parents' friends, I hear it was a riotous good time. I'll have to take their word on it. I was a little too engrossed in "The Poky Little Puppy" to notice.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I officially learned to read when I was in kindergarten. While the rest of the class was holed up with the other students in our grade for recess or a movie special, I would spend time with Mrs. Roth reading books in an empty classroom with one or two other students who were also learning to read. It was so exciting to put the letters and sounds we learned in class to use. Growing up in a house where PBS was a staple, I adored The Letter People and Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood. To see and hear all those pieces of words and sounds and literature come together into a story that I was reading on my own? It was amazing. I can't think of a better gift than learning how to read. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">It was the early onset of nerdom. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">It's a good thing that I'm at peace with my nerdiness. I embrace it. I found a kindred nerd spirit in my husband. Without our nerd link, I think I might be lost.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I have learned to so much through my reading. Whether textbooks for school or nonfiction for personal interest, I have never been let down by a book. Sure, there have been those books along the way that gave me pause mostly because of how poorly they were written, but I can usually always find something redeeming about a book. It may only be the dust jacket that I enjoy, but I'll enjoy something. There's just something about a book that makes my heart happy.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Last night, as I was sitting on the couch with Shannon, we started discussing traditions that we'd like to share with our children (when we have them). His suggestion? Reading them <em>'Twas the Night Before Christmas</em> each year on Christmas Eve. Talk about a moment to make a woman mushy. Not only was he talking about babies we haven't yet had, he was talking about reading to them. Who does that? </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I have to admit that I agreed it was a great idea. I must now rush out and buy a copy (or three) of <em>'Twas the Night Before Christmas</em>. I'd hate to be unable to find it when it matters most.</div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-61268193016363132882010-12-13T11:52:00.000-08:002010-12-13T11:56:23.898-08:00Radvent: A Journaling ProjectThe fabulous Ms. Young over at <a href="http://finelyyoung.blogspot.com/">Finely Young</a> forwarded me a link today that she thought I would particularly enjoy. As she's had excellent taste in bloggy goodness so far, I wasn't surprised that I adored <a href="http://princesslasertron.com/">Princess Lasertron</a> right away.<br />
<br />
I was also hooked on an idea.<br />
<br />
I was inspired by her <a href="http://princesslasertron.com/2010/11/radvent2010/">Radvent</a> blogging project for a number of reasons. Of the many, I was most drawn to the idea because it's so fitting to reflect and find thanks in the year that's passed before entering into the new. Since we're so very close to the holidays - I keep watching the countdown and gnawing my fingernails as I know that we're not near done shopping - I thought it might be appropriate to start expressing my sincere thanks for all the wonderful things that happened in the last year. What better way than to hop on the Radvent train and participate in my own way.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">_____________________________________________________________________</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">WE ALL GET AS MANY <span style="background-color: white; color: magenta;">BEGINNINGS</span> AS WE NEED.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">WE CAN START OVER. GIVE UP.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">START OVER. GIVE UP. START OVER. GIVE UP. START OVER. GIVE UP.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">_____________________________________________________________________</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I think of a new beginning, I think of Shannon.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I think of Shannon, I think of starting over. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I think of starting over, I think of a blustery February evening in 2009. I think of my girlfriends and I taking advantage of the men our lives via their universal single weakness (beer) and offering to buy them at least one round if they agreed to accompany us out of the house. We all had cabin fever and a desperate need to share space with numerous strangers, the sounds of bad karaoke and the stale ordor cigarette smoke. It was the midst of winter. We were antsy.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">It was here that I bought my future husband a Pabst Blue Ribbon (you read that correctly) and sat cramped next to him on a bar stool mocking a poor sap across the bar who looked like a retirement-aged member of the Jersey Shore cast. Monochromatic outfit. Slicked back hair. A bit of gold bling surrounding his groomed chest hair. I'm pretty sure Shannon had a man-crush on him. I might have had one, too. <br />
<br />
But he's not what I remember, really.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
What I remember is the rush of excitement I felt that night. Possibility existed. It stretched in front of me for what seemed like miles. For the first time in a long, long time I felt like there might be more in store than wasted time or a broken promise.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I remember the flush in my cheeks. I remember the way my perfume failed to overpower the smoke that hung thick like fog in the air. I remember being certain that he could hear my heart pounding a thousand miles an hour over the shrillness of the local karaoke patrons.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I remember taking the first steps into starting over that evening. I gave up on my old life, and I started a new one. Give up. Start over. <strong>Give up. </strong><em>Give in.</em> <strong>Start over. </strong><em>Start fresh.</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I remember Shannon. I remember our beginning. <br />
<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz2YhpWT2oExoVrUOmxlfOp9nvBSB3lz90Krdk8KbiQL_UnshyphenhyphenSv497VSYslun04L5s_ZHxdAkxvPQDxg-bdTCXBvBG5U-prKvPA8lKrmUs0_vaCVkpVhRPjwDASsAUvHRKPae5063SYoU/s1600/untitled.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz2YhpWT2oExoVrUOmxlfOp9nvBSB3lz90Krdk8KbiQL_UnshyphenhyphenSv497VSYslun04L5s_ZHxdAkxvPQDxg-bdTCXBvBG5U-prKvPA8lKrmUs0_vaCVkpVhRPjwDASsAUvHRKPae5063SYoU/s320/untitled.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-77542369105730849352010-12-09T09:49:00.000-08:002010-12-14T07:58:02.733-08:00I Need to FocusI think this week may be the longest week in creation.<br />
<br />
I say that only because I've been convinced that it's Friday since Wednesday and the hour hand on the clock moved at a snail's pace yesterday. Soooo slooooow. You would have thought it wasn't moving at all. <br />
<br />
I think it has to do with the fact that I'll be on vacation as of a week from tomorrow. Having the possibility of three weeks of vacation looming on the horizon makes the weeks that you're at work move frighteningly slow. It also means that the time that you have at work before your vacation needs to be highly utilized. I have so much on my list of things to accomplish that I'm almost nauseated.<br />
<br />
I also think it has much to do with the fact that tomorrow I'll be embarking on a baking adventure. I am producing 150 cupcakes and a wedding cake top for my friends' wedding on Saturday. I am responsible for the dessert at their wedding for 92 people. I am responsible for a part of their special day.<br />
<br />
Look at them. How do you let a couple like this down?<br />
<br />
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I am a certifiable wreck at the present time. It's important that you know that. I am certifiable. I would enjoy a good cry right about now. Followed by the sifting of some flour. In that order, yes.<br />
<br />
So the week? It's been long. What is getting me through is the fact that I know that everything will turn out if I just put my mind to it. If I focus. I must focus. So, I'm going to do just that. Focus.<br />
<br />
I am going to focus on so many things, but mostly on Sunday afternoon and this <a href="http://www.joythebaker.com/blog/2010/11/kale-and-sweet-potato-soup/comment-page-2/#comment-135368">soup</a> for dinner.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><strong>*Cupcake Update: </strong>After baking for what felt like eons, but which turned out to be more like 14 hours, I had completed 144+ cupcakes and one three-tiered cake for cutting. Not only was I incredibly exhausted but I was also totally excited to share the cupcakes at the wedding. Let me just tell you, there is nothing better in this world than cream cheese buttercream. Nothing. It was the first time ever that I have confiscated the mixing bowl from Shannon and refused to share. Everything turned out beautifully. I almost started crying when I saw the cupcake display. I will have pictures soon from my lovely friend Abbie at <a href="http://abbietakespictures.com/?pageID=232189">Abbie Takes Pictures</a> to share with you. Can't wait!</span>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-30926660366033756042010-12-07T14:10:00.000-08:002010-12-07T14:12:26.828-08:00Today's Nerd Moment Sponsored by the Letter "G"I'm a big Gleek.<br />
<br />
Of all the episodes I've just been ridiculously giddy about in the last few weeks, I really liked the "Furt"episode. It was another character-centric episode instead of the gimmicky, "special guest star" episodes that were a bit of a trademark early in the season. I was glad for the change back. It was needed.<br />
<br />
I also seriously (HEART) Bruno Mars's song "Marry You." Given that I'm a recent newlywed, I'm still in that blissful stage. Well, somewhat blissful. Shannon and I lived together well before we were married. As far as that changing, not much has. Sure, we're legally required to come home to one another at some point. Otherwise, it's pretty much the same as it was before. And I mean that in a good way, I promise. <br />
<br />
Gleek on! <br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/YHYV0aPV4nU?fs=1" width="480"></iframe>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-83086058045349214522010-12-06T14:07:00.000-08:002010-12-06T14:07:05.362-08:00List Making<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5s1TzmT8UNSEXGfF9NZuD1Tf3Csf_Y0wFxY_tLoEWIuV73wyrZLWk8ujZ_myRgWjfOnNsH5Z0EIR_SXADQgqNsvXpqupiYIkaSGYUP4l9tGMYev1_zakVMJ2uA5oe1kId0cbz1iIFiQym/s1600/imagesCA95Y9RW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5s1TzmT8UNSEXGfF9NZuD1Tf3Csf_Y0wFxY_tLoEWIuV73wyrZLWk8ujZ_myRgWjfOnNsH5Z0EIR_SXADQgqNsvXpqupiYIkaSGYUP4l9tGMYev1_zakVMJ2uA5oe1kId0cbz1iIFiQym/s1600/imagesCA95Y9RW.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I need to buy stock in Post-It</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I've been doing quite a bit of list making in the last few weeks. Given the season, I know this shouldn't be a surprise. However, when I add forced list making to my regular, everyday list making, I get a wee bit peaked.<br />
<br />
I wrote out a list of Christmas gifts for my mom.<br />
<br />
I wrote out a list for my sister.<br />
<br />
I wrote a list for my husband for my mom.<br />
<br />
I wrote a list for my husband for my sister.<br />
<br />
I wrote out a list for my husband.<br />
<br />
I wrote out a list of gifts to give my husband and in what order he is allowed to open said gifts on Christmas morning.<br />
<br />
I may have written a list about the list, too, but in an effort not to seem entirely insane, I'm going to pretend said list does not exist.<br />
<br />
Today, I am making a list of all the people to whom I need to provide a gift. Nothing major, just little "thank you" for being awesome gifts. You know, my staff. My girlfriends. Shannon's aunt. My neighbor who cut our front yard almost every week this summer just because she beat us to it! I need to make a list because these people receive edible gifts, and I need to start figuring out who is receiving what ASAP.<br />
<br />
On the list (yes, another list!) of things to make?<br />
<div></div><ul><li>Chocolate mustaches </li>
<li>Cake pops</li>
<li>Mini loaves of holiday bread</li>
<li>Homemade apple and pumpkin butter</li>
<li>Cowgirl/boy cookie jars</li>
<li>Bellini kits</li>
</ul>It's at moments like this that I am thankful to be just a little Type A. Okay, more than a little.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-10586467395358691312010-12-03T15:03:00.000-08:002010-12-03T15:03:15.473-08:00'Tis the SeasonI'm going Christmas shopping.<br />
<br />
For myself.<br />
<br />
I think today, after all that I've been through (three individual 1-hour long meetings), that I deserve to treat myself to some window shopping and the possible purchase of a new winter coat at DOTS where all things are cheap.<br />
<br />
I'm also in love with this <a href="http://oldnavy.gap.com/browse/product.do?cid=60783&vid=1&pid=792327&scid=792327002">cardigan</a> even though I have enough cardigans to cardigan an entire family of ten. I'm wearing one now as a matter of fact. What girl can't use an extra cardigan, though? I mean, they're so versatile and multi-seasonal and age appropriate once you hit 30. <br />
<br />
And festive? Yes. I also think they are festive.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-89646118930776718182010-12-02T08:33:00.000-08:002010-12-02T08:35:14.026-08:00Vegan Bake-OffLet me first say that I promise this post will come full circle. If you know anything about me, you know that I tend to shoot off in one direction only to come back to point A like a boomerang. This post is one of those boomerang moments. Bear with me.<br />
<br />
While Shannon and I have recently made the decision to return to being lacto-ovo vegetarians (we eat eggs and milk products but no meat), I have very rarely ventured into the world of vegan cooking. <br />
<br />
Shannon was vegan a number of years ago, but returned to being lacto-ovo vegetarian about the time we began dating in 2009. As we progressed into our relationship, I was prepared to make the transition to being vegetarian. The older I've gotten, the less inclined I am to eat meat, and it didn't seem to be a difficult decision for me to make to turn to vegetarianism. It was especially easy to make the decision once I knew there were more meat substitutes than tofu. I might love tofu, but eating it every day would get tiresome. Luckily, there are a ton of other options, and I like pretty much every one.<br />
<br />
Of course, the best laid plans often end up with snags. My decision to become vegetarian last year was thwarted by my diagnosis of ulcerative colitis in November. The ulcers in my colon are easily irritated by stress, irregular eating, and, most crushing of all, high intake of fibrous foods. Fresh fruits and veggies were really hard on me, and the thought of eating mostly all vegetables was daunting. So what happened? Shannon decided to start eating meat again so that we could save money on our grocery bill. Talk about finding someone special. <br />
<br />
For the last year, we've been omnivores. It's been just find and dandy. I grew up an omnivore and, until I met Shannon, I had done very little exploring of vegetarianism. But I earlier this fall, when Shannon was diagnosed with high blood pressure and I was in a particularly difficult place with my weight loss, we began discussing the possibility of attempting vegetarianism again. My colitis is under control, and I've been doing a lot of research into recipes that allow me to cook most of the vegetables, thus making them much easier for my digestive system to handle. After talking and talking and talking some more, we decided to make the switch after our wedding reception November 6.<br />
<br />
We are vegetarians for health reasons, not because we have a particular opposition to the eating of meat. In fact, we do our best not to inconvenience people, especially our families. On Thanksgiving? I ate a little turkey. I ate mostly vegetable side dishes, but I did have some meat-based protein. Did it hurt? Nope. In fact, I think it made my mom pretty happy. She didn't have to overcompensate, and we didn't have to request specialty items. (Next year, though, we might take a Tofurky just because I love it so.) <br />
<br />
Considering that we're lacto-ovo, I haven't given much thought to vegan items. Some of the best recipes I have are vegan, and while I'm happy to use them as is, I sometimes need to substitute items back in. It's easy enough to add milk instead of soymilk or eggs instead of egg replacer. It's a little tougher, though, to figure out what to add when tofu is subbed in for a condiment. Thankfully, Shannon's the brain when it comes to such things.<br />
<br />
Today, I was perusing <a href="http://sarahfit.com/">Sarah Fit</a> - to pull her Glee Cardio Workout Mix - and I saw a recipe for a delicious-looking <a href="http://www.madejustright.com/user_recipe/view/10108/58/1">Oatmeal Raisin Chocolate Chip Cookie Pie</a>. It was linked to Made Just Right which is a vegan website. So, I started searching through the recipes and the content, and what did I find? <br />
<br />
<strong>A Bake-Off. A <span style="color: #990000;">holiday</span> bake-off.</strong><br />
<br />
Did I ever mention that I can't resist a bake-off? Well, if not, I can't resist a bake-off! Of course, a vegan bake-off is slightly more challenging. This means it's ever that much more irresistible. I must compete!<br />
<br />
This week is out. I don't have a pie recipe that I feel comfortable veganizing in such a short frame of time. However, next week is dessert bars. And the week after that is cookies. And the week after that is cakes! Do you know what I can do with three weeks worth of baking challenges?! Oh the possibilities.<br />
<br />
If you're interested, head on over to <a href="http://www.madejustright.com/">Made Just Right</a>. If you win (and there are two winners per category), you could win a $400 gift card to Whole <strike>Paycheck</strike> Foods. It's well worth it if you're like me and love Whole <strike>Paycheck</strike> Foods, but find the prices a little scary.<br />
<br />
Good luck to you (and me)!Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-46622084563001319032010-12-01T06:58:00.000-08:002010-12-02T08:33:59.174-08:00In the CardsI've had a number of moments in my life since I met Shannon in which I've had to take pause and wonder at the strange way the universe works. Considering five years ago we were in totally different places than we could ever have thought we would be, it's amazing for me to think that we are where we are today. I have to marvel at the ways our lives change shape and grow moving us from one path to another. All the random that we assume exists in our lives somehow makes sense when you look back at it from your present location. You got where you are because you experienced what you experienced. <br />
<br />
In a very not philosophical way, it makes me think of Sam in <em>Quantum Leap</em>. What can I say? My mom loved the show when I was a kid, and I remember it. It made an impression. Yeah, I know. That Scott Bakula. He's a character! I do think of the show, though, and how one thing changing the past, just one tiny thing, so completely changed the course of history. Maybe not for everyone, but most definitely for the person into whose life he'd jumped.<br />
<br />
These are the things that I consider when I think about our lives five years ago. <br />
<br />
Five years ago, Shannon and I briefly crossed paths at the wedding of our mutual friends Amanda and Andy. I was dating my college sweetheart. He was living with his girlfriend who would, shortly, become his wife. Shannon was working for his father's small business. I was unaware that in a few short months, I'd be thrust into a work environment where 75+ hour weeks were the norm rather than the exception. Shannon had stopped taking art classes at the community college. I'd just come out of my masters degree program a few months. He was building his life with someone while I was building my life with someone else.<br />
<br />
And then what happened? A breakup. A move. New jobs. A marriage. New goals. Rock Band at our mutual friends' house. Divorce. A move (for him). A naked man walking out of my bathroom that did not belong to me. The period of non-happening in my life which I affectionately referred to with my roomie as our "boring phase." Life, as it always does, happened.<br />
<br />
After all of that, we ran into each other again. One liners were exchanged. I may have been referred to as a social terrorist despite the evidence to the contrary. Beers were bought. Emails exchanged. A dirty secret about me having a big, fat crush was released into the wild. We dated. We moved in together. He survived (along with me) my first colonoscopy prep.<br />
<br />
<em>A word the wise, do not let your significant other of six months or less see you in the throws of full-on dehydrating bathroom usage unless you really, truly think he/she may be the one.</em><br />
<br />
Despite the fact that I always thought you needed to have a traditional, long relationship in order to be happy; despite my absolute certainty five years prior that I would already be married with babies; despite the fact that I was secure in the knowledge that I would never be liked by my in laws; despite all of these things, 18 months after we first started dating, Shannon and I were married (and my in laws like me a lot). If that doesn't make me think that it was in the cards from the get go, I don't know what would.<br />
<br />
Oh, except this. This makes me certain that we were always meant to find one another.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEN1_7BQ-tlybId9UNYkJmCjJNQiIlqEYRpXj8reclJ0xfykgceP8gGXcHc-ETZdgzRh9PVTj-jeZAWqcchlyfGjWA2nm4AOUyXuge5I0BaIP0L0ZsFE6Kvq6xllFe2QYrhJGqFeUo3Qo2/s1600/Jess+She-Ra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEN1_7BQ-tlybId9UNYkJmCjJNQiIlqEYRpXj8reclJ0xfykgceP8gGXcHc-ETZdgzRh9PVTj-jeZAWqcchlyfGjWA2nm4AOUyXuge5I0BaIP0L0ZsFE6Kvq6xllFe2QYrhJGqFeUo3Qo2/s320/Jess+She-Ra.jpg" width="175" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sister as something (WTF?) and me as She-Ra</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1e_ocVqurIXJdcSQEBguYnh4M10gvcf4e_NnM_92EGTKVH6Wa72I9fQ6KNw3HV-3pgrRWWrRh0VFDsPjDch8xuct4NnXZoNou681IsDkb9mmKIOvNjNruzFhn7XQBTW_sYZqPxTlq0wnm/s1600/Shan+Skeletor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="306" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1e_ocVqurIXJdcSQEBguYnh4M10gvcf4e_NnM_92EGTKVH6Wa72I9fQ6KNw3HV-3pgrRWWrRh0VFDsPjDch8xuct4NnXZoNou681IsDkb9mmKIOvNjNruzFhn7XQBTW_sYZqPxTlq0wnm/s320/Shan+Skeletor.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shannon as Skeletor and his friend as He-Man (without arms, apparently)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You just can't argue with Fate sometimes. If Shannon had been He-Man, Fate and I may have had a quarrel because, well, He-Man and She-Ra are brother and sister. Gross, Fate. Gross. Thankfully, my man was a super villain kind of dude. Every girl loves herself a bad boy, right?</div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-34745289837161293602010-11-30T08:50:00.000-08:002010-12-02T08:33:47.199-08:00A Homecoming of SortsI took a bit of a hiatus from Blogger for a few months. <br />
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It was intentional as I was starting a new blog, a new format, a new way of working within the digital writing world. You see, I wanted to focus exclusively on food since it's my passion and my stress reliever. I cook to release tension, go figure. Stress eating? Sometimes. Stress baking? Always. It's a good thing I like to give things away. Otherwise, the holidays would be even more of a nightmare. The point is, I thought it would be good to start things fresh in a new format. <br />
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What I realized is that I can't just write about food. <br />
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Of course, I enjoy writing about food and posting recipes for folks to explore. I like taking pictures of gooey cakes and sloppy kitchen counters. But, at the end of the day, I like a million things. I like the way the sun falls across couch in my living room. I like the way our new orange kitten purrs. I like daydreaming about painting the walls in a house I won't live in temporarily. All of these things are things I like and that I like to talk about.<br />
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I also like talking about the simple happiness in my life. I like talking about my husband. I like talking about our dog. I like talking about the Star Wars puzzle set I bought in the shiny collectors tin for $6 at Target. <br />
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Frankly, I like to talk. I also like to write as if I'm talking. It's kind of what I do.<br />
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There are days when I don't want to write about what I made for dinner the night before because it really wasn't so good. There are days I'd rather write about how I met Maya Angelou and she was fabulous. Or maybe I'd like to write about how the wind was whipping my hair into my face when I was putting up Christmas lights and boy do I hate that because I said I would chop it all off post-wedding, but I still haven't done it. <br />
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So the idea of a food blog? Good. The productivity of said food blog? Not so good. <br />
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Which brings me back here to another incarnation of what I've already started. I'm going to do my best to pull some of those lovely posts and bring them here. Archive them. Share them. All the while, I'm going to be restarting what I should have just kept doing before. I'm going to write about my life - food, husband, work (in ambiguous ways that do not expose me for my day job), flyaway hair. All of it. <br />
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I called my food blog endeavor "A Little Something Sweet." I'm keeping that name here. Why? Because life is sweet. This is my little piece of sweetness, and I'd like to write about it, cupcakes to comb overs. Ponder that one for a while, will you?Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567244390442180526.post-15717510282229127732010-11-29T08:04:00.000-08:002010-12-07T11:38:40.829-08:00Stocking Stuffer Idea #1: Chocolate Mustache<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://littlesomethingsweet.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/51e5gpra65l__sl500_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" class="size-medium wp-image-597" height="300" src="http://littlesomethingsweet.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/51e5gpra65l__sl500_.jpg?w=219" width="219" /></a></div>I was flipping ever-so-slowly through my new Food Network Magazine on Saturday when I saw an advertisement for Chocolate Mustaches on Sticks.<br />
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While the simple fact that it's a chocolate mustache on a stick might give one pause, I stopped because, well, I love mustaches on sticks. I think they're the bee's knees, the apple of my eye, the most awesome piece of awesomeness since the invention of awesome. Why? Because I may or may not have a few wedding pictures out there that contain mustaches on sticks. And because they're just hilarious.<br />
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The fact that <a href="http://www.nibbee.com/index.html">Nibbee Chocolate Company</a> sells these little buggers is just too fantastic. They're not too unreasonably priced either - $1.99 each. Still, I felt like I would need more than just one. I have so many people who could - and should - benefit from a chocolate mustache on a stick. The names that come to mind are too many to be listed, but suffice to say that I feel everyone I know needs to have their own little piece of chocolate facial hair.<br />
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What, then, is a girl to do on a shoestring budget?<br />
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She's to make her own, of course.<br />
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Enter the idea of Google Searching "Chocolate Mustache Molds." Now insert the happy dance when I not only found one (HOORAY!) but found that it was priced just as cheaply at one pre-made mustache (HOORAH!) I'm buying it now.<br />
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Really. Right now.<br />
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Done. It's bought. I have officially bought a chocolate mustache mold. I might be the coolest person I know. Okaaaaay. Not really.<br />
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I am the only person I know that owns this particular candy mold, though. Woot!Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10281662456979956659noreply@blogger.com2