My Funny Valentine (Disclaimer: Contains Mush)

Who got spoiled stinkin rotten this Valentines? This girl! Brian surprised me with a flower delivery to my office on Tuesday, and a box of chocolate covered strawberries on Wednesday. Holy moly did I get the royal treatment or what! To top it all off, my sweet guy took me to Tuscany (the restaurant, not the city, but I was just as happy) for Valentines dinner where we sampled some pretty fancy Italian food. 

I was presented with a single red rose by the hostess as she led us upstairs to the balcony. We were seated in a semi-private area of only 4 tables under a beautiful stained glass dome of grape vines (it's the UFO looking thing at the top of the picture below.) The best part of the night had to be that Brian was somewhat unimpressed and a little grossed out by the pork belly appetizer. Amazing man that he is, he sat with my finished seafood appetizer in front of him while I devoured his as well. (I was also not a fan of the pork belly, but the polenta and the sauce that was under it was worth licking the plate clean. Which I did with bread; civilized and whatnot.) 

I got him some cologne and a bag of mini-Snickers. I feel like I did nothing in comparison but I swear that's what he wanted, and he was excited. Whatever works I guess, he's pretty low-maintenance. Anyhow, it was an amazing week and it was great spending it devoted to my best friend. I am so lucky to have him in my life, I know I'd be lost without him. Thanks hun, for being my rock and for sharing your appetizers, I mean,  your life with me. You're the best. 

I hope everyone had a fantastic Valentines Day with loved ones - be it your significant other, family, friends, or dog.

What Do You Mean You Don't Bake the Baby?

It's Mardi Gras, "Fat Tuesday," and since I couldn't be in New Orleans with my people, I took the party to the office. Any day that begins with eating King Cake for breakfast is the mark of a very good day. Add some festive beads and you've got fabulous.

Exhibit A

King Cake was so named for the biblical three kings. The cake is baked in a circle and sprinkled with three colors of sugar: purple (symbolizing justice), green (faith), and gold (power.) Inside every cake is a tiny baby to represent Baby Jesus. It's a sign of good luck to whoever finds the baby in their slice, and they are expected to host the next King Cake party.

Whilst in New Orleans this past October, I picked up an "authentic" King Cake mix in a box from a vendor at the airport. Last night, the mix finally made its debut in my kitchen. I tore open the colorful box, and pulled out the little bags of individual ingredients: the cake mix, glaze mix, the colored sugars, and yeast. Yes...yeast. Unbeknownst to me, King Cake is more of a bread-like, cinnamon roll ish pastry. "You mean to tell me this thing has to rise twice before baking!?" I cursed to myself, and debated not making it. I'm an instant cake mix type of girl: rip, dump, stir, bake, done. This cake had a 12 step program.

So I stirred...let it rise for 30 minutes, flattened and sprinkled praline sugar over butter (God bless the South), formed the dough into a circle, shoved the baby into the dough...let rise for 30 minutes...again...then baked it. The kitchen was a mess, not to mention the dogs. Constantly at my feet, everything I dropped they wore. And when I ripped open the bag containing the praline sugar, because I just don't know my own strength, Pepper was covered in half of its contents. And there she stood...frozen in place and terrified, her big eyes pleading "get it off, get it off, get it off!"

With about 5 minutes left of baking time, my hand flew to my forehead. I looked at Brian with my mouth agape as I connected the dots...the baby was plastic...and now it was in the cake...in the oven. There were some profanities muttered on my way to the oven. I argued with myself that there were no instructions regarding the baby on the recipe card...but upon second glance, there it was in big bold letters: "DO NOT PLACE BABY IN CAKE BEFORE BAKING."

Well...it looked fine. I stared at it for a couple minutes, picturing a melted plastic mess somewhere in the cake. I sectioned off about a third of the circle, the area I believed to be the region that hid the baby. I considered several delicate ways of searching but none offered any results. There was no other way. I had to massacre the cake. If I couldn't find it, I would be threatening the lives of my co-workers. It was a sacrifice I had to make, but I finally found it. To my surprise, it was still in tact. (Well played, cake mix maker, well played.) It started off white and was pink after baking. All in all, no damage, just a little sun burn. The rest of the cake was enjoyed by all in the Houseboating office; Amber had even confirmed the taste to be authentic. (Not like plastic? Good, that's what I was shooting for.) No one died, so I can officially file this experience as a WIN. I suppose you could even call it a miracle...after all, the baby is Jesus.

Let the Good Times Roll!

Fat Tuesday is always the day before Ash Wednesday, which marks the beginning of the Christian season of Lent. Lent lasts "40" days (more like 45) and ends the day before Easter. Traditionally, participants will give something up in order to practice discipline for those 40 days. I usually try to give up going out to eat, take out and fast food - just plain eating unhealthily. I don't always succeed in the way I hope, but I'll give it another shot this year too. (With the exception of Valentines Day, but I'll make it up to God with an extra day on the end.) I have also realized I need to add more spiritual practice in my life. I've slacked off after I stopped going to my previous home church. So I'm committing to attend another church each Sunday, and I'll keep a journal of daily devotionals (shout out to whoever invented the Bible App.) I'm hoping to build a new habit that outlasts Lent, but as anything else in life - I'm sure it's going to be harder than it sounds.

Anyone else celebrate Mardi Gras/Lent? What are your traditions, what are you giving up for Lent? Swearing, road rage, candy?

Life on the Fast-Track

It was Devin's birthday on Monday (he's one of Brian's good buddies, and mine by association). The plan was to get a group together for Go-Karting to celebrate. I have never go-karted before, but have always been curious to try. It was mid-day Monday that I started questioning if I should go or not, and began thinking of excuses to abort mission Fast-Track. (To be fair, my knee was giving me a fair amount of grief until later that afternoon.) But I also worried that I was going to be in the way of "guy time" or whether I would severely embarrass myself in a way that only seems possible when it happens to me. Despite my better judgement, I hitched up my proverbial pants and psyched myself into going. 

There were about 12 people (including myself) in our group, I was the only girl but I didn't mind that; (I kid myself into thinking I can "roll" with the boys.) I signed up and got my racing license, racing name: Travelbug. I was ready to make some boys cry. So we strut out to the track to gear up in our racing helmets and pick our karts for the line-up. I sat down and reached behind me for my seat belt, then looked at it puzzled. Was it one that goes around each arm and connects in the middle? Nope, just one loop. I looked around and everyone else had a simple no-questions-asked, car-type belt that extended across the body over one shoulder. I looked at mine again. Nope, definitely not the case. The "pit crew" attendant saw my struggle and pointed out that it was to go over my head and then connect to another that's fixed on the seat. Again, I looked around puzzled. Mind you, the whole time I'm wearing the bulky helmet, the kind that hinders your view no matter what contortions you can put your neck through. There wasn't anything to connect this belt to! Finally I wriggled myself (rather clumsily) out of the tiny awkward cart so the attendant could yank the other side of the belt from where it was jammed under the seat (go figure.) Meanwhile, every guy waiting in their carts for me to figure this out had this face:

Luckily, being stumped by a seat belt is not high on the list of things that can easily damage my ego. Then we were off! The 10 lap (dis)qualifying round began and I was quickly in last place. If you've never driven a go-kart before - it's a lot different than driving a car. Not hard, but different. Apparently the only beginner in the crowd, I floundered all the way around the track screeching and bumping...at about 10 mph. But getting the hang of the kart was the least of my problems. The racing helmets, though safe, block your peripheral view entirely. Might as well squeeze your noggin into the hole of a cinder block. (And I get claustrophobic in an airplane.) So about 3/4 of the way around my second lap, I was hyperventilating and shaking so dramatically that I turned off into the pit stop where the crew attendant cut the engine and helped me out of the aforementioned seat belt.

I splashed my face with some water and sat with my head between my knees for awhile, after which I was completely fine. From that point on I watched from the lobby window and silently cheered them all on. All the while mumbling to myself in a deep announcer voice. I'm certain the employees all thought I was insane. Actually it was probably more fun to watch them all bump in to each other and watch their faces as they screeched around tight corners, not sure if they would make it. Boys. They never grow up, they just get bigger. After two rounds, they all came back through the lobby with their chests all pumped up and big ol grins on their faces like:

They stood around the final ranking board and compared stories on which of their group was the most difficult to pass, who blocked who on what turn, etc. So even though I didn't actually get to race, I was very well entertained. My go-karting days are far from over. I will conquer the track one day. But until then, I guess I'll have to stick to the freeways.

An Old Friend and a Chili Cookoff

Brian's "otha brotha," Tugi, came from Virginia to visit and do some serious snowboarding. He was only staying in Layton one night, so the Park clan threw a nice little gathering for dinner. A good time and amazing food was had by all. Terri (mama Park) put together a fabulous fiesta! Chicken fajitas and tacos with all the fixins: Mexican rice, re fried beans, guacamole...the works. They let me bring an appetizer/dessert this time (sometimes I wonder if they doubt my mad kitchen skills.) I made a delicious Fruit Salsa with Cinnamon Sugar chips. It was so yummy! Click for the >>Recipe<< I love Pinterest.

Kim w/ Claire, Becky, Caleb w/ Carson, and John

Brian, Tugi, Terri and I

The following day, Go Travel had a Chili cookoff to kick off Superbowl weekend. (Any excuse to work as little as possible.) The contenders: Stacy, Joe, Pam, Chris and myself were to face off in an epic battle of the beans.

When a reminder was sent throughout the office the day before judgement day, it was brought to our attention that there had been a minimal (nonexistent) amount of trash talk leading up to the event. So of course the office explodes with emails boasting their superior recipes from generations past, with supposed "Mayaztincan" (Mayan, Aztec and Incan) origin, and another from the far away land of Detroit. Mine? I probably got it off of the internet, but I've changed the recipe so much that I think I can officially call it my own; with exotic flavors of canned whats-its and prepackaged turkey. But...it is really good chili. One problem...I don't know how to trash talk! One of the many unfortunate misgivings of being an only child. So I did what I always do in times of uncertainty...I Googled it. WikiHow took me through the 5 step program of "How to Trash Talk:"

• Step #1 - insult your opponents mothers
• Step #2 - LIE. false trash talk is most effective
• Step #3 - repeat the previous steps as necessary
• Step #4 - if you lose, discontinue trash talk and hide immediately
• Step #5 - challenge opponents to another match

I don't know who violated Pam's flyer (aca-Stacy)

Pam had already posted fliers in the kitchen and around the office promoting her "Chili con Gringo" (I don't think she actually put whitey IN the chili though, don't worry.) I, being the not-so-confrontational type, whipped up my own trash talking flyer. 

*Not for wussies

It got ugly and lasted until minutes before the contest. We eventually let the chili do the talking with a blind taste test for our Judge panel: Amber, Tom, and Jonathan. Brave souls that they are, they rated us very highly and it was very close! Joe got first place (I'm sure he bribed someone on the panel - Joe wins everything, and is therefore banned from future work contests.) Actually it was very good. I don't remember where everyone else placed but I got 3rd (out of 5). A comfortable middle - I've decided that I'm okay with that. I was told later that I shouldn't have played it so safe with the heat: I toned it down a little where I should have kicked it up! Next time there will be no question.

Anyhow, who can beat a work day like that? Chili and trash talk really brought us all together.

I love my job.

My Medical Mystery

So many of you have inquired about my injuries and why I've been spending so much time at the doctor. I guess it's about time for an explanation, so here's the short and sweet version:

In May of last year, I began training for a half-marathon again (I hadn't trained for a few months,) and I guess I just turned up the volume too quickly on my mileage. Had some pain in my knee and was told to take it easy for awhile. My doctor told me it was most likely just runners knee and it should heal up with rest. So I iced it, elevated it, and ate Ibuprofen like it was candy. After about a month and a half it had still not gone anywhere, so my Doc suggested physical therapy. My physical therapist had me doing some quad-strengthening exercises, nothing intense. But with these exercises came unbelievable pain and inflammation in my foot. (This is what has every doctor scratching their heads.)

It's been 8 months and the pain has not lifted - actually it progresses slowly over time, and has made it to my lower back as well. I'm doing physical therapy for my back, and it helps, but that's coming to a stand still as they are hesitating to continue until they know for sure what's going on between my knee and foot. (They have more of those quad strengthening exercises for me, which still have me writhing in pain for a few days after doing them.)

Long story short, I've had MRIs on my foot and back, as well as an EMG to rule out anything nerve related. The latest test was an ultrasound of my entire leg by a Vascular Surgeon - who could only shrug. I've seen just about every doctor - and referral after referral I get passed along from doctor to doctor, specialist to specialist...and the cycle continues. Meanwhile, it's driving me crazy not being able to do much of anything exercise-wise. So I keep going to doctor after doctor, because I have to hope that eventually I will find someone who will know or will find out. *Sigh*

It's been quite a circus act, but I'm keeping my chin up. :) If you know how to solve this medical misery mystery, please don't hesitate to share. Thanks all for your support during all of this. It's helped more than you know.

The Cone of Shame

Last August, Brian and I finally broke down and decided to get ourselves a puppy. We drove all the way to Provo to see some 7 week old Pit Bull/Lab mixes. Oh I could've scooped all of them up in a box and taken them all, but we were there to decide on just one. Brian wanted a black one, so I put my blinders on and tried to connect with one of the two beautiful and super sweet black pups. We both fell in love with Pepper, but while we were playing with the other puppies, a little brown one hopped in my lap and curled up for a cuddle. I wasn't paying any attention to the brown ones, but this one was so snuggley and loving that I just couldn't leave her behind. That brown baby became known as Bailey. I looked at Brian with pleading eyes and of course he obliged. After all, he had been sitting in puppy heaven, drunk on puppy breath along with me, so he was pretty easily convinced. I was nervous at first but looking back, I wouldn't have done it any other way. Two was definitely the way to go. They're so much more at ease when you bring them home because they have something familiar at their side, and they keep each other entertained.

Pepper

Bailey

My sweet puppies Pepper and Bailey turned 6 months old this week! And to celebrate, we got them spayed (sorry kids.) I was a wreck the week leading up to the surgery. I had dreams that two dogs went in and only one came out; it was beyond horrible. Brian was the one who took them in Thursday morning, and then picked them up at the end of the day. The surgery went fine but the pups were just a bit groggy and sore when they got home.

Of course, just in time for me to come home from work on Thursday, there was a huge snow storm. A 30 minute drive took me about 2 hours. It's in times like those that I really appreciate the all wheel drive in my Subaru. The roads were packed with snow and bumpy with ice, and traffic crawled. When it wasn't stop and go, it was 10mph. I was dying to see my poor babies; I had been worrying about them all day long.

Had already been driving 45 mins, and still over an hour to get home!

Okay, so they didn't actually get a cone to wear as the title suggests, but they had some pretty pitiful faces when I finally got home. Bailey was a trooper and was up and about, but sleepy. They both just wanted to cuddle up with us all night. Pepper was very sore, and reminded herself several times of which ways not to move. She usually does a Superman leap off the couch, which she quickly figured out she shouldn't perform for a few days.

Sad faces. Pepper kinda blends in, but you can see her little white toes

Brian took the whole week off to hang out with them, and I got to join him on Friday. We didn't get a whole lot accomplished other than the several naps we shared with the puppies, (and the staring contest Brian lost with Bailey - picture below) but all in all it was a great day. Pups are doing well, and pretty much back to normal. I love our little family.

Collapsing Christmas & Back to Real Life

Welp, it's about that time after The Most Wonderful Time of the year when the Christmas cookies have all been eaten and the Tree becomes a beautifully decorated fire hazard. Our tree barely made it to The Day, and became a dusty needley mess. It probably didn't help that the tree served as a puppy snack from its entrance until its demise, but it gave Pepper and Bailey refreshingly piney puppy breath (which I must admit was not altogether unpleasant.)



So on New Year's Eve, I sadly plucked each ornament, candy cane and yanked each string of lights off of it's stiff dry branches, then stuffed them in the Fortune Cookie storage box to wait in the dark for another 12 months. Brian rolled the tree out the door and threw it in the snow on the curb. So sad. 

After taking everything down, Brian and I made Jambalaya and watched Up, then Ice Age 4 (because we're 10 years old) until right before midnight so we could count down with the residual Times Square celebration aired to MST. With the puppies tucked and curled by my legs under the blanket on the couch, I counted down with the crowd in NYC: 10, 9, 8...the excitement was building 6, 5, 4...and then finally 3,2,1! I turned to Brian for a New Year's kiss and...he was sleeping. He probably zonked out at about 9:30. Lame.

The first week of January: in lieu of my staple resolution that visits me for the first two weeks of every year, I have begun construction on my eating habits. Because of an injury, I can't really do much exercise except for Physical Therapy at the moment, but that's another story. I have been logging my daily intake on MyFitnessPal.com (sign up and friend me!) and have been trying to take short walks when I can. In the first few days, I was severely discouraged by my famine. I did so well at work, and by the time I got home I was ravenous. Nothing was safe. And I was so disappointed the next morning when recounting the shamefulness from the night before.

I hit Pinterest, and I hit it hard. I came up with a few solutions and found a winner. Bell pepper "chips" and salsa. You cut up a couple bell peppers (I used green) into chip-like chunks, spray with olive oil, and dust with garlic powder. Bake them at 400F for about 10 minutes. I don't even think I waited for the oven to finish preheating or for the timer to go off. My friends, it's delicious. And it's a lot of food! I had trouble finishing it and the whole plate was under 150 calories.

I am also not a breakfast person. I struggle to find something I can have at work that is quick and easy and won't pack on the pounds (especially with an Einsteins Bagels just a parking lot away.) But I may have found a solution. Ham and egg cups. Not only are they adorable, but they are scrumptious, and only 117 calories so you can even have it with half of an English muffin and still be good to go. Another one of my favorite switches is for dinner. I don't know about you, but pasta is a serious weakness of mine. Good thing I found out that zucchini strings are just as tasty. You can still put whatever sauce and toppings on it you like and not miss out on any of the taste.

Well, that's enough of my rambling. How are you all doing with your resolutions? I hope you're all staying warm and safe wherever you are.