Saving My Pride...with Pulled Pork~

I believe that I have mentioned a few times that Jack can cook. I think I have even mentioned that Jack pretty much always cooks for us. I am never in charge of dinner – unless I am picking it up from the pizza place and bringing it over, of course. I offer input on dinner, I make a killer queso dip, and I have been known to rub down a steak or two over the last few months – but the responsibility for dinner has pretty much been on Jack most of our relationship.

I didn’t mean for it to end up that way, it just kinda happened. I am at Jack’s house seven days a week and in the beginning, I just didn’t want to mess around in his kitchen. Then Jack’s work schedule changed up and for the last six months he has had a much more flexible schedule than mine. He can start dinner earlier than I can, so we can eat sooner. Especially on weeks when we have the kids, he can feed them whenever and whatever and they aren’t waiting on me. I don’t think it bothers him that he cooks – having kids pretty much meant he was used to cooking already – but I didn’t realize until the other day that he thought I couldn’t. The conversation went something like this:

Me: So if your work schedule switches back, then I guess I can make dinner instead now.

Jack: You do know that cooking dinner doesn’t involve a drive thru, right?

Burn. And while we laughed about it and I half heartedly protested that I can, in fact, cook – I think he truly does believe that I can’t. Or at least that I can’t cook well, I suppose. Now, he does have good reason to think this. Like I said, he always cooks and I never cook. Any time I have a meal that is not with him, I do usually grab a slice of pizza or hit a drive thru or eat a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. It’s true. But not because I can’t cook – because it is easier. I hate to cook for one. Especially when that one is me, because I am the pickiest adult eater in the state of Michigan. There are only so many ways you can cook ten different ingredients. Also, even if I halve a recipe there are still leftovers for days which mainly get wasted. And why would I go buy all the ingredients to build myself a lonely burger when I can run through the drive thru and get a fully assembled hamburger for 89 cents? It isn’t cost effective. So to recap: Cooking for one is a lot of work, it is expensive, and I am picky. Thus my fast food habit.

However, I love to cook. I love to try new recipes, I love to party plan and feed people, I love creating a menu and cross referencing it with my cupboards to create grocery lists organized by aisle….wow, I do have an organizing problem, don’t I? But I love the whole process of cooking. It is like life applicable math that when done correctly gives me brownies. What is not to love?

So today, to defend my honor, I am cooking. Well, not only to defend my honor but also because today is going to be a long day for Jack and I have a mother hen complex that makes me want to take care of him. And also because I spent much of nap time last week reading through scores of online recipes to find half a dozen to try out over the summer. Did I mention I love to try new recipes? So I have new recipes for pulled pork, for chicken manicotti, and for red wine rosemary steaks. I had to talk myself out of making all three this week. It would be so out of character for me that Jack would laugh at me for days – around all the delicious food I would be making, of course. So I picked one.

Today’s winner? Slow roasted pulled pork. Because Jack loves pulled pork and because it is something I can cook in the slow cooker and just take over to his house already done. Also, because I don’t do things half way – rotini veggie salad and banana nut bread. Both also new recipes (yeah!) that hopefully are both awesome. Of course, I don’t eat either one of those things so if they aren’t awesome all that is hurt is my pride and Jack’s tastebuds. But I have high hopes. I will be sure to let you all know the outcome, but I would just prepare yourself to hear the many accolades now if I were you.

Reluctantly Healthy~

This week I had dinner with Charlotte, who is one of my steady girl dinner date partners. We share a love of red meat, wine, and have a shared intolerance of stupidity. It gives us lots to talk about.

Anyway, during the course of conversation we were talking about the ridiculousness of weight loss and gain. She, being pregant, has an excuse for weight gain. I am simply gestating a twenty pound pizza. And simply writing that sentence makes me want a pepperoni. What on earth is the matter with me???

Absolutely nothing.

Here is my view on weight. Would I like to be 150 pounds and toned and smoking hot and never have to worry about thunder thighs ever again? Of course. Would I like that at the expense of pizza and pop and ice cream and M&M's and all the other completely awful-for-me things that I like? Not a chance.

Genetically, I am not meant to be skinny. Seriously, I researched this and some people's genetic code makes their fat cells more likely to absorb and hang on to fat than other people. It also genetically picks what places on your body that fat clings to. When I told Lola this she didn't feel better. I thought it was reassuring - like....'Hey! Its not us! Its our jeans! Errr....genes!' But she was not reassured. As a matter of fact she went crazy and declared war on our genes, getting all skinny and toned and reinforcing all my bottled up shame from eating more than two doughnuts in one sitting. Ugh.

BUT...

I saw how much Lola had to do to get skinny and toned - and I watch her beat herself up for gaining a few pounds back or losing tone and getting soft or squishy a bit. And I think about all that work sometimes when I sit on my couch and eat my doughnuts. Poor Lola, missing all this sugary goodness and eating her little portions of low fat, low carb, (blasphemy!) mini meals and snacks.

This is not to say that I just sit around and eat and work on producing fat rolls. I occaisionally declare war on my genes from time to time as well. About two years ago I got on a scale just out of curiosity and almost passed out when it said two hundred pounds. Two hundred pounds? How on earth had I got there? If you are two hundred pounds, this is not an insult to you by the way - but for me, that was the line. I knew where I had been my whole life and for me to cluelessly just climb the scale and hit that point was ridiculous. I was completely motivated to get healthy and wage war on my super-soaking fat cells.

So Lola and I and Leah and Olive and a few others all joined a local body challenge and vowed to be in bikinis by summer. Lola kicked all our asses and still today makes me look like her chunky version, but I lost thirty pounds and I felt better than I had in years. At 170, I went out and bought bikinis and lived in them all summer long. I was happy. I was healthy. And I was shameless. And according to medical professionals...I was still twenty pounds overweight.

I am never going to be at my doctor recommended weight. I haven't seen 150 pounds on a scale since I was in high school and I have zero plans that involve ever seeing it again. I know that Americans are overweight and that we all should be health conscious, but at what point do we say enough? People are made in all shapes and sizes and we should embrace that. Especially us women. Let's stop beating ourselves up and find that things that are beautiful about us - whether they jiggle or not. Because let's be real here....do you really want to live a long healthy life....without donuts?

My Valentine~

I don't do mush well. So it goes without saying that Valentine's Day is not really my best holiday. Not that I don't like it, but the overwhelming mush of it all sometimes makes me feel like a Valentine Scrooge. (Especially last night when I had to fight through the mob of wild eyed, crazed looking moms fighting for the valentine packages just so I could get a heart shaped peanut butter egg.) Don't get me wrong- I love romance and flowers and Kenny G playlists as much as the next girl. But after a decade of dating in the real world, I am way too much of a realist to suspend belief for the day and believe in fat, winged babies shooting people in the ass to make the world a happier place. However...

This Valentine's Day is not only mushy, cupid day- it also marks six months of dating for Jack and I. Sometimes I find it impossible to believe we have been dating that long already - and other times it feels like we have been together forever. So I am feeling not exactly more mushy, but maybe more sentimental than normal. That does not mean I believe in fat, winged babies, but it may inspire me to find racy lingerie and wear it to Jack's with a trenchcoat and hooker boots. Of course, that is really just standard Monday night entertainment....

All kidding aside, (and me putting on hooker boots on a weeknight after being with kid since six a.m. is definitely a joke - so you can breathe again Mom) Jack and I will be spending our Valentine's Day barricaded together in his house with steaks and red wine and pajama pants and probably large amounts of pink and red peanut M&M's. It should come as no surprise that I love the parts of Valentine's Day that are comfortable....or edible. It is a testament to how much I love Jack that I am even willing to share~

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2011~

2010...one very, very busy time in the life of this blogger. So much happened - with me and my family. New spouses, new babies, new relationships. It was a very full, very exciting, and very packed year. And I am sure that 2011 will not be any different. Here's hoping anyway~

I only have two resolutions for the new year. Because my life is pretty much perfect of course. Kidding. Kinda. But this is the year of simplifying so I am going to start that off right by keeping my resolutions simple. Last year I had many resolutions and did fairly well on all of them...this year I have few resolutions and I am going to rock them.

Resolution One:

Get my financial life organized and put some cash in my travel fund. That travel fund is my reward for getting organized. If I follow my budget the way I should then I should be able to go cruising around the Caymans next winter guilt free. If I don't follow it, then I will probably cruise around the Caymans with the guilt. Which is a prime example of why I am bad with money. I have zero self control. Wait...I HAD zero self control! This is a new year, new start. Now I magically have self control and am a budget queen. I forgot.

Resolution Two:

Get in shape enough to run the Warrior Dash without embarrassing myself or looking scary in stretchy workout gear. This is a 5k race with a dozen obstacles stretched throughout - things like jumping floating logs, climbing rope walls, and belly crawling in mud. And we get Viking helmets! Doesn't it sound like fun?? I think it sounds WAY cooler than a plain, boring, all running 5K. Also, it means I don't need to run straight for three miles - which I can't do anyway. My training plan is extremely flexible. Sometime during the week I will run on my elliptical and lift some arm weights. Notice there is no mention of how long or how many days or if I need to do this while eating an ice cream sandwich or not. In my new simple plan for 2011, I find it easier to set goals I know I can manage. Don't wanna stress myself out just to become a Viking Warrior for July. Because let's be really honest here...I am not going to get super buff and get recruited for someone's Viking team once they see my fantastic rope climbing skills. My goal is simply not to drown in the mud slide.

So there ya have it. Goodbye 2010 - thanks for the insanity and the fun and the new blessings. Welcome to 2011 - year of simplification, organization, and mediocre fitness.

Illness and Other Items~

I have been a bad blogger. You are all out there probably starving for news of my ultra exciting thirtysomething life….and I have failed you for the last two weeks straight. Here is what you missed:

I have been sick. In multiple, varied ways. Every time I thought I couldn’t possibly be sick another day – I was. Nausea, phlegm, sore throat, dizziness, headaches, and now….now I am left with this crazy cough that lingers like an unwelcome guest. None of it was so awful that I couldn’t function, but it was all just enough to make me consistently miserable. So for two weeks I have done the bare minimum. No extra cleaning, no extra socializing, no shopping or dinner dates or mosh pits. Every time I go to Jack’s house I fall asleep on the couch after whining that my head hurts. He probably is thinking in his head that he picked a defective girlfriend and is wondering if he should trade me in or if this is just a random one-time event. (For the record I am actually always whiny when I am sick – see? Aren’t you glad I didn’t blog through it? I saved you from myself.) However, I haven’t caught him rolling his eyes at my whining once yet – and he continues to feed me chocolate and pets my hair while I doze and he channel surfs, so I am thinking that I am going to have to keep him.

I bought a new phone even though there was absolutely nothing wrong with my old phone. However, Lucy needed a new phone so it did serve a purpose. (Lucy killed her phone when she jumped into the lake with it in her pocket – who knew you couldn’t do that?) So Lola, Lucy, and I did some switcheroo-ing and now everyone has a new phone….and I got my Droid X. I love everything about it – except texting on a touch screen keyboard which is taking a little bit of adjustment. I love it so much that I was staring at it happily as I rear-ended a mini SUV last week. Whoops.

Daylight savings time has motivated me to be healthier. This is simply because it gets dark so freaking early that I am likely to spend more evenings at home now than when there was pretty sunshine to run around in. So now my elliptical machine and I will become closer frenemies than we have been in a while. The goal is to let it abuse me six days a week. Stop laughing. You are supposed to be encouraging in the beginning. You can laugh at me later when I whine about my second stomach because I continue to ignore exercise and embrace all the Halloween candy I can find.

So that pretty much sums up the last two weeks: I have been sick, ate a lot of Halloween candy, hit some guy while mooning over my new phone, and continued to get cozy with Jack on his couch and watch a lot of TV. Consider yourself caught up and I will be back soon….right after I go find my hidden stash of Snicker bars.

Perfect Day~

Today was a perfect day.

I woke up headache and hangover free after a fantastic night out with Jack and Leah and her future husband, Hercules.

I went to Mass at my church, where my family has gone all my life and where I know most people’s faces if not their names. I sat in the choir and waved out at my nephew in the congregation where he sat with several members of my family. He didn’t wave back, but the kid in front of him did.

I went to McDonalds for lunch with my family after – which we have been doing since I was about seven. I ate apples instead of fries to be healthy and they actually tasted better than the fry I snagged from my sister. I felt vindicated.

I went to my Moms, harassed my Dad, and refreshed my memory on my fantasy football players and their game times- all the while flirting with Jack via text.

I played with my dogs, pet my cat, and read while they played outside for a while.

I went to Jack’s, where he had a fire and the two wick candle burning and I curled up on his sofa in front of the fireplace watching football and catnapping.

I had a super great steak dinner that Jack made for me – while I was catnapping and watching football.

I went for a walk with Jack and his puppy and got to kick at crisp, bright colored leaves like a school girl.

I played a few games on the Wii that I was no good at, but for a short enough time that it was just funny and not frustrating.

I got teary eyed watching Extreme Makeover Home Edition – and enjoyed harmless lustful thoughts about Ty Pennington.

I finished roughly eighty percent of the Sunday crossword puzzle while Jack and I watched random tv and read the paper. The other twenty percent was incorrectly organized I am sure.

I scored a big fat win in fantasy football, hopefully boosting me up a rank or two.

I spent a satisfying amount of time making out with Jack by the door when it was time for me to go home – satisfying enough to make me smile as I sit here thinking about it on my couch listening to the tail end of the thunderstorm, which also happens to be one of my favorites.

I drove home singing to the radio and thinking about how lucky I am to have found Jack at this particular point in my life – how I needed to be here in this time with this amount of baggage and this amount of life experience so that I could see the wonder in a simple beautiful day with a man that makes me feel like all my past heartache was worth it to get to here and now.

And now, I end my perfect day blogging about it. So good.

In The Kitchen~

I admire any man that attempts to impress a woman with his culinary skills. I especially admire a man that tries to impress ME with his culinary skills. Not just because it is me that gets to eat or because it means he still wants to impress me; but because I am the pickiest eater ever. Ok, maybe not ever – but close. (I blame my mother for not forcing me to eat vegetables when I was a baby, but she refuses to acknowledge that argument and usually just rolls her eyes at me when I bring it up. I try telling her she will just feel better if she would just admit it, apologize, and then make me a batch of chocolate cookies…but she still resists. One day…) Included on the list of things I don’t like: eggs, rice, vegetables, all noodles, any meat with a bone in it still at time of cooking, all salad ingredients including lettuce, any ethnic food that has its own kind of restaurant such as Chinese or Mexican, anything with a squishy texture except orange segments, and papayas. I just can’t do it. This means it is slightly difficult to plan a meal with me in mind. Even toddlers eat noodles and carrots.

Let me rein in my storytelling here for a moment. The point of the blog is not that I am a freak about eating things, but rather that I appreciate a man that can work within those constraints and feed me – not just because I like to eat but because it shows effort, and I appreciate effort in all things. Super bonus points if he feeds me well. Not only did Jack feed me well this weekend, but he only made fun of me twice for insisting that I wanted my chicken plain and boring and I was happy with it that way. And he made cookies for dessert – that sadly I was too full to really thoroughly enjoy. However, I appreciated the effort and love that he understands the importance of dessert. That is something you really can’t teach. It bodes well for the future that he already understands that desserts are a priority. Consider me impressed.

Chocolate Update~

Ok - so the night I wrote about Death by Chocolate my stomach felt so awful that I ended up getting sick at like three in the morning. Apparently I can't eat a dozen chocolate cookies in a one day now that I am in my thirties. However, this did not stop me from finishing the five or so cookies I had left the next afternoon. Also, in a related note...today I am baking more. It is a sickness.

Death By Chocolate~

One of the most useful functions of mothers in my opinion is to let us know when we have had enough cookies. When I became an adult, I went nuts with cookies. Cookies for breakfast? Sure! Cookies before I eat all my dinner? Hell yeah! Cookies in place of dinner? Double yeah! Look at these cookies Mom!! When I was in my twenties there was zero adverse side effect to this. So naturally, I believed that all that 'too many cookies are bad for you' nonsense that my mom had been spouting through my childhood was just that - nonsense. I didn't gain a ton of weight. I didn't get sick. If I ate cookies before bed I didn't have nightmares that giant cookies were going to eat me. I was fine. But now? Now I don't eat cookies for bed....because I won't get any sleep. I don't eat them in place of meals (normally)...because I can't help but think how many extra minutes I am going to need to be on my elliptical machine to burn off that one chunk of chocolate. And I usually don't over-indulge when I do eat them...because I know they will give me a belly ache. With this exception - chocolate drop cookies.

These cookies fool my adult brain into thinking they are the equivalent of brussel sprouts. I could eat a dozen of them and still my mouth will be watering because I know, somewhere in my cupboard, there are more just waiting to come live in my tummy. I could eat an entire pizza (not really, but roll with me for a moment) and smell them...and still be hungry. They are literally the best way to bundle chocolate, sugar, and flour that man has ever invented. Thus why I am typing this with my jeans unzipped, slumped in the chair like I just swallowed a watermelon whole.

I don't know why the rest of the world seems to be unaware of their existence. My mom has made them since I was little from this recipe shoved into a huge cookbook that she probably got for her wedding shower. It barely holds itself together anymore. For the good of the planet - and for all my lady friends that believe chocolate really is better than sex - I am going to share the recipe here with you. Enjoy. And if you eat more than three....I told you so.

Chocolate Drop Cookies

1 c. shortening
2 c. brown sugar
2 well-beaten eggs
2 tsp vanilla
2 oz. cocoa

Mix all those ingredients into a big bowl and then mix the following ingredients into a smaller bowl and sift them.

2 1/3 c. flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda

Alternate pouring the dry ingredients into the larger bowl with one cup of milk until all is mixed well. Bake for approx. 10-12 min at 350 degrees.

The frosting is a learned skill with no exact measurements. Do your best and if you have problems - call my mom. She makes it way better than me.

Frosting ingredients:

Powdered Sugar
Milk
Cocoa
Butter

Grab a small bowl and add about 2 cups of powdered sugar. Add about 1 tsp of cocoa and then add milk and blend until it obtains the consistency of smooth frosting. It should still be a bit liquid-y. Use a spoon or so of butter to thicken it up. When you put it on the cookies it should pour on, but stay in place on the cookie without running all over. This is a difficult skill that I have yet to master completely. But I will soldier on...or beg my mom for help.