Happy Halloween!

Babydoll...and BRAINZ!

Threshold

Lately, Pinterest has been my go-to source for finding recipes, in addition to a small obsession I may have with all things Star Wars. And Kello Kitty. And Hello Kitty Star Wars:

Hello Leia

Anyway. I prefer Pinterest over most food blogs because they're tedious and often difficult for my addled mind to manage. 

However, one of the blogs I follow looks like a food blog - it boasts delicious recipes, after all - but it's author, Dianne Swift Adams, is so irreverent and hilarious that I'm completely hooked. In addition to a handful of recipes, it is also the site where one can purchase gorgeous handmade blankets, better known as a Boga Babe.

I *almost* met Dianne once for coffee a few months ago. She was a terrific sport about being contacted with about an hour's notice on Facebook, along with a handful of other friends in the Los Angeles area, while I was getting my car serviced. I'm hopeful we will eventually meet.

Her children, Emerson and Annabel, frequently appear in her blog. Emerson is more often than not wearing only boxer briefs while assisting as sous chef. In her recipe for heirloom tomato sandwich, she addresses this very issue:

'Some people come home, kick off their shoes, and make themselves a drink. My son walks into the house, takes off his shoes, pushes his pants down to his ankles and elaborately kicks them off so they sail into a far corner. If he could he would be completely naked at home but my threshold of scrotum on every surface is lower these days than it used to be. Get your sad skin satchel off my couch and barstools, son. So our deal is at least wear your underwear."

See what I mean? The phrase 'threshold of scrotum' only endears her to me more. As a matter of fact, I'm going to find a way to work that expression into my conversations. Seeing photos of Emerson cooking, regardless of the fact that he's not wearing any pants, I can see Dianne is on to something; get your kids cooking, and cooking young. 

It makes me realize my own failings as a parent because when my kids go off to college, I'm fairly certain they will starve. Girldoll can cook, and easily mastered getting a frozen pizza into a preheated oven - but if given a choice, she prefers to be waited on. Boydoll can handily prepare himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, both BOTH kids will go all afternoon without eating rather than prepare food for themselves. 

I have no one to blame but myself. In an effort to keep a tidy kitchen, I avoided their requests to help prepare dinner. I regret it deeply now, because I believe there is a window of having fun helping in the kitchen...and that window closed for my kids about 5 years ago. 

I don't know. Maybe it's not too late?

Crushing

I have to admit something, Internet. I have a terrible crush on a blogger. I recently started reading a blog called The T-Rex Runner, and at the risk of sounding like a Creepy Internet Stalker, I'm fairly certain we could be besties. 

No, seriously. (Even though that's exactly what Creepy Internet Stalkers would say.)

Aside from being clever and hella funny, Danielle (aka T-Rex) is a runner. What I adore about her blog and about her running philosophy in general is her humanness: she struggles with injuries, awkwardness, and bad running days. Still better yet, Danielle isn't a vegan. Her blog frequently includes a relevant and kicky GIF, each with their own unique subtitle that makes her  point even that much more awesome. 

The other thing I love? Despite the fact that Danielle is running a marathon in all 50 states, finishing up her master's degree, and (huge respect) in recovery for eating disorders...she responds to nearly every comment left on her blog.  

I have read other running/fitness blogs but instead of feeling inspired, I come away feeling like I suck. And then there is the issue of jargon and that unsettling feeling of being left out of a secret that everyone else seems to know. 

Anyway, I have been chuckling all morning over this post about all the things that might get one hidden from Danielle's Facebook feed. I relate so very much. At least Danielle is forthright in admitting the Facebook Love. I am a coward and frequently have to dramatically announce to my friends that I'm taking a Facebook hiatus or delete the app (gasp!) from my phone so I can't absentmindedly while away the whole fucking morning. 

I don't utilize the hidden-feed feature nearly enough. As a matter of fact, I have only done it to three people of the 400+ people that I'm Facebook friendly with:

1) The egregious political and conspiracy-theory poster. I had no idea when I accepted a friend request from this acquaintance that I would be put off by his outrageous posts. I don't have a problem with people whose politics differ from my own - but I do have a problem with comments with the purpose of pointedly baiting people, only to get into intense and angry debates. No, thank you. I had merrily gone along in my life prior to this. Now when I see this individual, my reaction is a visceral one: Run away as fast as I possibly can. 

2) The relative who discloses too much personal information. I had to hide a relative who posted about her first post-divorce sexual encounter. ::shudder:: HOLY HELL. I so wish I could unsee that.  

3) The frequent checker-inner. You know, that red pointer-thingy that shows where this person was: 


View Larger Map

There she is eating breakfast. Oh, wait. Now she's at the Farmer's Market. And there she is at the pharmacy! I only wish I was exaggerating. Aside from my kids, I don't need a blow-by-blow of anyone else's whereabouts.  

*****

It's early yet, so Danielle hasn't replied to my comment...not that I have looked or anything. What can I say? I'm a sucker for a pretty blog.

Challenge Accepted

In a recent post, I wrote about how Cooper was determined to try to break free of his plastic collar after his surgery, which included a photo added later in the day. The caption under the photo of Cooper wearing his new ProCollar read, "Try and get outta that, you little shit.' I hesitated writing those words - partially for profanity's sake, but also because those are fighting words. I should know better than to tempt the universe.

I suppose it was just a matter of time. It's sort of like the Tootsie Pop riddle, 'How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?', except our version was 'How many days can Cooper go before destroying the inflatable collar?'

After submerging the inflatable insert to find the leak and
repeatedly duct taping spots, the insert never stayed inflated.

The answer to that question is four. Within four days, Cooper managed to get the ProCollar over his head and pop the insert. Arrrgh! 

Cooper and collar numero dos.
All that rebelliousness is hard work!

Thankfully, Petco replaced it. Let's hope this collar lasts 5 more days until the sutures come out. 

*crossing fingers*

Neutered

Momma...do I have to?

Before: On our way to the veterinarian, right before we got out of the car. I know intellectually that it's necessary, so why am I so sad? I'll tell you why. Aside from worrying about my chocodile being put under general anesthesia, I will kind of miss Cooper's testicles. They were like two jolly fellows bouncing around between his thighs. It was like a train wreck; you couldn't *not* look. It gave him swagger, sort of like his balls made him a force to be reckoned with...which I suppose is the way nature intended.

Hey! You said I was going to get 'tutored'!

After: 'Um, Momma? YOU SUCK.' Cooper came home tonight groggy, and slept most of the evening. He cried a little before crashing hard under the table by my feet. We all fussed over Cooper, with Mr Doll whispering to him that it was all my doing. 

How's the cell phone reception? Can you hear me now?

This morning: Within thirty minutes after coming out of his crate, Cooper had tore his bonnet. I frantically taped it up with Boydoll's help. I was in tears while I watched him try ripping it off, and then run from me every time I tried to get him to stop. I had visions of him tearing his stitches. Here is the frantic email I sent this morning, looking for a sub to teach my spinning class:

Help!! I am home with our puppy that was neutered yesterday, 

and even with his cone on I cannot leave him alone for a second :(

He has ripped the cone off once already and the limited duct tape 

that I had on hand to repair it is being stripped away. 

If he gets it off, he will tear his sutures in a second.

Please let me know if you can teach my cycle 45 today at 12:15. 

I'll swap classes with you for a future date! I'll buy you lunch! 

I'll be your best friend! Heeeeeelp!

It will be amazing if the bonnet holds up for 10 days, but he finally settled down and stopped fighting the cone by this afternoon. It's been a long day. 

*****

ETA: Despite several duct tape reinforcements, within 36 hours Cooper succeeded in tearing the bonnet off completely. 

Revenge is sweet.

It's come to this. Boom!
Try and get outta that, you little shit.

Recipe For Disaster...Or Not.

Now that my palate is officially reset after not eating refined sugars for almost three months, I decided to try out some low glycemic dessert recipes.

Here are the ingredients to my avocado pudding, minus the unsweetened vanilla rice milk:

2 small avocados

1 t mesquite powder

2 1/2 T cocoa

1 c rice milk

2 T coconut crystals

Blend well and enjoy. What? Yeah, it's weird...but pretty yummy. It also satisfies a sweet craving without setting me off on a tear eating the house down. 

Here is a link to my friend's blog and her banana pancake recipe: 

http://runningcowgirl.wordpress.com/2013/09/09/easy-peasy-pancakes/

I have seriously made her recipe five times over...I love it! 

A *different* Cowgirl, who helped me make can peaches, gave me this recipe for coconut whipped cream:

Chill coconut cream in fridge overnight before opening. Open from bottom of can into large mixing bowl. Add a scant amount of flour, agave syrup to taste (I used about 2 tablespoons) and beat with hand mixer until thickened. 

Right after I whipped the coconut cream, I put it on the banana pancakes and then refrigerated the remainder. 

I decided to try a dollop of the whipped cream...and liked it even better after it had chilled in the fridge. I put fresh raspberries on my chocolate pudding, and I was pretty stoked with my treat:

Avocado pudding: Eat yer veggies

(Almost) all done! Yummy!

Period.

I was talking with my hygienist today...well, she was talking, I was lying there with my mouth open and my teeth being picked out of my head. 

Anyway. She was telling me that her kids were doing homework at the table together. Her daughter announced that all the fourth grade girls were going to a special class to learn about their periods. 

Her son replied, 'That's silly. Why have a special class only for girls? Everyone knows a period comes at the end of a sentence.' 

I'm still chuckling.