Monday, June 29, 2009

This Better Be Good...

I am a woman possessed.

Friday night, while killing time (read: goofing off) with The Boyfriend before a catching a movie, we went to Books-A-Million. We weren’t looking for anything in particular, but found ourselves in the back of the store where the magazines are kept. The Boyfriend was immediately mesmerized by something involving baseball, so I looked over the chick section a bit. I happened across an issue of Cooking with Paula Deen and started leafing through to see what sort of tasty goodness she was peddling this month. A certain recipe caught my eye and I made a mental note to look it up online when I got home.

Yesterday, I remembered this recipe and decided to try to find the recipe online, but quickly discovered that Paula has decided that this recipe isn’t free. She certainly mentions it on her Cooking with Paula Deen website, but only to say that the recipe is on page 66 of the May/June issue. How thoughtful of her, right? How hard could it be to pick up a copy of the issue? I’ll tell you.

I went to Publix, thinking “Surely they’ll have her magazine. Publix is the place in the South to grocery shop, so how could they not have the Paula Deen magazine?” They didn’t. I then looked at Target, which had the July/August issue, but not the May/June. Fail. Winn-Dixie didn’t have it either, which was really no surprise, mainly because the one by my apartment is about two steps above a Cumberland Farms. Next, I figured I’d try Barnes & Noble. Unfortunately, they’re so efficient at Barnes & Noble that they already had a whole slew of the July/August issues out and the left-over May/June issues are on their way back to the publisher. What they’re going to do with them, I’ll never know.

I even went so far as to call the Books-A-Million where I originally held a copy of the magazine to see if they were less efficient, yet much more my speed, and still carrying the old issue. No such luck. Although, the person I spoke to on the phone was quite pleasant and even wished me luck in my search.

So I’ve been reduced to getting, what feels like, a bootleg version of the elusive Raspberry-Limeade Cake recipe. I found it on a blog or two, but couldn’t bring myself to give a random blogger enough credit to get every measurement and step of the process correct. They certainly didn’t scan the page and put it up on their blog and the picture that they posted of their finished product wasn’t quite as alluring as Paula’s. Not that mine is going to look any better, but still. I eventually found a cooking/baking website where people could post questions. Someone had requested it and another person posted the recipe. This website seemed to be more legitimate than the others, so I'm going with it.

I’m hoping beyond hope that this person is experienced at transcribing lengthy recipes from magazines onto computers. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been known to say that something needed to bake for 120 minutes instead of an hour and 20 minutes. You know, 120 - 1:20… It made perfect sense in my head, so zip it!

I’m also a little nervous because it’s a layer cake and I’m not so good with the layering. I’m going to do something I’ve never done before and attempt to cut the top of each layer so that they’re flat before stacking them. And I’ll be using my Cuisinart food processor for the first time. (All those blades really freak me out.)

So we’ll see what happens this weekend. At this point, I’ve gone to way too much trouble to give up. If only finding the magazine had been as easy as tracking down a great pair of shoes in my size. I certainly went about it with the same voraciousness!

If it doesn’t turn out, I’ll still have her Sour Cream Pound Cake recipe… Wish me luck!

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Practice Makes Perfect... Eventually

I’m a girl, therefore I think. A lot. Sometimes I think too much for my own sanity.

Lately, I’ve been pretty good about it, just coasting along and not really thinking into things too much. I guess enough was enough and my destructive thinking habits came back with a vengeance. As tired as I was last night, when I got ready to fall asleep, I couldn’t keep my mind from racing. As soon as I opened my eyes this morning, there it was again. I’ve always said that I’d never do well in prison because I’d think myself to death. I would. I would think and think and think until they had to either put me in a padded room or sedate me.

Now that this little monster has reared its ugly head, I realize how nice it was to not think about anything. I was enjoying just going with the flow. I was enjoying taking things as they come and not being too concerned about what really happened because, ultimately, it would all be fine. I’m ready for that mindset to come back. If I could figure out how to make it come back, I would do it.

As much as I’d like to stay in this worry-free place, I’m not convinced that it’s completely possible. At least not for me. I’m not one of those happy-all-the-time people. I have bad days and things go wrong and I think it’s perfectly healthy to have ups and downs. I really don’t understand people who aren’t the least bit ruffled by anything going wrong, ever. That, to me, is just unnatural and a little part of me wants to shake people like that and yell “Get upset about something! Show a different emotion!” It’s probably a good thing that I keep that little bit of crazy in my head.

On a more positive note, I have been constantly reminded lately that things happen for a reason. I’ve never felt like things happen at random in life. I’ve always felt like there’s a grand plan and that things that are supposed to happen, will. It’s always nice to have those beliefs reaffirmed with actual happenings in life. It’s comforting to me to be able to look back over a period of time and see that, even though I really wanted my life to go in one direction, it clearly wasn’t the one that was meant for me.

This all goes back to my whole over-thinking problem. When I really want something and try to force it, it takes me forever to really let it go and I have to get that much more distance on the situation before realizing that it just wasn’t meant to be. And during this time, I’m usually pretty angry and hostile and feel victimized, to some degree. If I hadn’t been so consumed with my own wants, I would’ve been able to see that whatever it was just wasn’t right for me. When I’m more relaxed and allow myself to make choices based less on what I want right this minute, I’m blessed with things that I never could’ve imagined and that are far better than what I wanted to begin with.

Perhaps I just need to be less selfish and self-absorbed. I need to realize that everything isn’t about me all the time and what I want. I should "practice patience" (as my mom says to me all the time) and be more open to opportunity and I’ll probably be a lot better off.

If only I could figure out where to purchase a little patience…

Thursday, June 11, 2009


All girls like flowers. I don’t care who you are. Even those girls who claim that they “just die” or they’re too cliché or the “easy way out” like them. I think they just say that to try to make themselves feel better when they don’t get them, but secretly wanted them. I freely admit that I like them and like them best when they’re least expected.

On Tuesday, I got home a little later than normal and found a note on my front door from UPS. If you know me, you know that I have the most curious personality. If there’s information that I’m missing, I’ll stop at nothing to get every little piece until I’m satisfied. I just can’t help myself! Anyway… I wracked my brain trying to figure out what it could possibly be. I’d ordered a few things recently, but thought I knew where everything was being shipped. I even tried tracking the package to see if I could get a clue there, but nothing rang any bells.

At 5:20 on Wednesday afternoon, I was packed up and ready to head home. After all, I had a package to pick up! As I was driving, I was talking to The Boyfriend about how I had this mystery package waiting for me and no idea where it came from. We were still on the phone as the woman in my complex’s office pulled the box out of the closet. There’s only one thing that comes in a 1-800-flowers box and it isn’t Post-It Notes. When I asked him “Did you send me flowers?” he said “No!” as though I was completely crazy for thinking such a thing. I was so confused and clearly this was written all over my face because the girl in the office said “You’re supposed to smile when you get flowers.” All I could say was that I was really confused.

To keep his story straight, The Boyfriend then said “I want to know who’s sending you flowers!” You and me both! I was starting to get really nervous. The last thing I need is a stalker! Needless to say, I couldn’t wait until getting into my apartment to find out what the card said. I was excited (and relieved) to find that they were, in fact, from The Boyfriend. Had that been from someone else, I’m not sure who would’ve been in more trouble.

He likes to make fun of me for answering “I’m not really sure… ” when people ask how this all happened. Obviously we view how things happened differently. I was completely oblivious and eventually seeing where the ride would take me. He, on the other hand, was a man on a mission. Thankfully he was persistent. And though I frequently ask him “How did we get here?!” when he lets a little more of the crazy out, those how-did-we-get-here moments are some of my favorites.

I really didn’t want for every post to be about The Boyfriend, since he’s there for practically every event that I’d want to write about. Today, I couldn’t help myself.

Thanks, babe. I couldn’t be happier. :-)

The stem broke off of this one, so I had to put it on my desk at work.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Life's To Do (And Don't) Lists

I’m crazy, therefore I have crazy ideas. I try to keep them in, but sometimes I just have to let it out. This is today’s sampling:

I never…

  • Want to have a child before graduating from college. I just don't think those are things that I could juggle well. Thankfully, I’ve already graduated, but my hat's off to people who can do it.
  • Want to go bungee jumping. I don't want to jump off of anything with a rope tied to me.
  • Smoke. Anything. It’s just gross. Although, when I’m stressed, I dream that I’m smoking. And I like to be able to say that I’ve never ever smoked.
  • Want to have dentures. I don't know how they stay in place and I’m afraid that they wouldn't. No amount of goo is going to replace the way your actual teeth are locked into your gums/jaw/whatever it is.
  • Plan on having plastic surgery. I think about it at times, but don't really want to not be completely natural. That’s always the little detail that snaps me back to reality. And I don't ask to be in any pain for any period of time.
  • Want to get fired (my dad firing me while I worked for him doesn't count). Not that I think that anyone really starts a job saying “I can’t wait until they fire me!”
  • Want to be on the Biggest Loser. Jillian is bad enough to deal with for 30 minutes of my choosing.
  • Want to get old. I go places and see old people that can’t move around as easily or quickly and think that I would just have a really hard time not being as agile as I am right now. I just dread losing those sorts of abilities.
  • Plan on hyphenating my last name once I get married. I’ve got enough letters to deal with and I don’t need any more.

At some point in my life, I want…

  • To travel, especially throughout Europe.
  • To marry a good guy who loves me for me, who doesn’t have to say it because it’s written all over his face; who doesn’t care what we’re doing as long as we’re together.
  • To be married at least a year before trying to start a family. You never get that one-on-one, newlywed time back and I want to enjoy every minute of it.
  • To be a good mom and give my kiddos everything they deserve, but not necessarily everything that they want.
  • To eventually live in a house that has a room with white carpet, walls, window treatments, furniture and a shiny, black baby grand as the focal point.
  • To take piano lessons again. I'm rusty and would love to play better than I do. I just don't want to have to be in the recitals with the little kids playing better than I can.
  • To be in a situation where I can work when and if I want to, not because I'm forced to.
  • To pay off my stupid credit cards.
  • To get a master’s.
  • For my family to be easily accessible.
  • To live in a warm climate. I can’t stand to be cold.
  • To set foot in all 50 states, if only for just a couple of minutes.
  • To become a better cook. Currently, I’ve got about four recipes in my repertoire and my horizons are in need of being expanded.

Whew! I feel better already.


In an attempt to post something today, I wrote some things out two different times, on two completely different topics. I've decided that I hate both of them and that I'm clearly not exciting enough to have a blog.

This does not mean that I'm giving up. I just need to either try harder or stop trying all together. I'm probably overly consumed with what my readers are going to think when they read this nonsense. All two of them.

The fact of the matter is that I spend most of my time thinking of a very few things. Here they are, in random order:

  • What I can write to Coley about
  • How many more minutes are left in the work day
  • The Boyfriend (How can I not? Have you seen him?!)
  • Bills
  • How much I don't want to work out when I get home
  • What I can find to eat (at any given moment)
  • Okay, okay, okay... shopping, too

I need a hobby or at least something added to my life that would give me some blog-worthy material. I didn't think that I was this boring!

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

New in town

I know this guy who's a pretty decent blogger and he's always telling me that I should write one. Being the avid blog-stalker that I am, I just haven't felt like my life was as exciting as all those folks that I visit on an almost-daily basis for my "fix." So I'm giving it a whirl... again. After all, this isn't my first rodeo. I had a blog a few years ago, when it wasn't all the rage, though it didn't get much attention. It has since been deleted, so don't go looking for it. Even I can't seem to locate it.

I'm pretty low-key. I don't have any kids on the way or already here to post pictures of and update people on. I'm not getting married, so I don't have wedding plans to tell the world about. I'm not newly married, so I don't have mushy honeymoon or cute newlywed stories to tell. What I do have, though, is a pretty great boyfriend and we tend to entertain each other. He entertains me at least...

Take our second date for instance... We were going to a movie, but had some time beforehand and decided to get some dessert. As we were waiting to order at Marble Slab, he said to me "What do they have here?" My response was simple: "Ice cream...?" I mean, there were big vats of it inside the clear glass cases in front of us! His eyes got as big as tennis balls and he yelled "No way! WHERE ARE WE?!" as he ran out the door of the establishment to check the sign above the store front. All I could do was laugh at him. The girl trying to help us, however, was not amused in the least bit.

After the ice cream incident, we went to see "He's Just Not That Into You." Now, don't be fooled. Just because it was only our second date, don't think that he just went because it's what I wanted to do and he was being a gentleman. I mean, he is a gentleman, but his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning when I threw the title out there. Anyway. The movie was pretty awful and we decided that Scarlett Johansson can only be a home-wrecker in movies. Don't get me wrong. She's good at it. But who wants to watch that? Toward the end of the movie, he actually tried to blame me for making us watch it. Me! No way. I blame him.

Thank goodness he was into me. And still is, I think...