Food, Glorius Food

I love food. If you know me (or have ever seen me), you know this. While I enjoy foods that are good for you, I love the bad things even more. I doubt I'll ever be a calorie counter. I look at the packages and whatnot, but I don't really keep a tally of my caloric intake; I more look at it to see how awful what I'm about to eat is. I will say though, if I get on a roll where I'm working out consistently, I will eat better, though it doesn't always feel like I'm doing any better than I was before. I tend to eat things that are more nutritious, but I'm also hungry more often. I can't figure out if this is because my body just needs more food or if it's because healthier foods aren't as filling. I've never claimed to be a nutritionist and I could really care less either way. If I'm hungry, I'm going to eat.

There are things that I feel like I could eat three meals a day for days on end and never get tired of them. Spaghetti is one of them. I must eat this more often than I realize because I mentioned that I went to an Italian restaurant this past weekend and The Boyfriend knew that I ordered spaghetti without me even telling him. I don't always get that when I go there. A lot of the time, yes, but not every time. I was quite surprised that he knew this, especially considering we've never eaten there together. I guess he knows me even better than I thought!

Sushi is another one. I'm pretty much up for whatever someone wants to order when getting sushi. Spicy tuna isn't my favorite, but I'll eat it. If it has spicy mayo, cream cheese, eel sauce, or any combination of the three, I'm there. Sadly, I don't think I've eaten sushi since The Boyfriend left and I'm craving it. It's possible that I won't have it until he finally gets back either. If that's the case, he may see me grow a snout and hooves right there at the table. (Have I ever mentioned how much sushi we ate on our first date? Neither of us could believe how much food was in front of us, but we tried our best to finish every bite.)

I like a variety when I'm eating, too. Not just with sushi, but with anything and everything. If I have condiments, I need at least two. I have to really hold back when going to Chick-fil-a because they look at me cross-eyed when I ask for barbeque, Polynesian, ranch and Chick-fil-a sauce to go along with my 3 strip combo. Yes, I need all four sauces, I'm not just being a hoarder. Everyone (okay, maybe not everyone) makes fun of me because I line all the sauces up and go in order when dipping. I go from left to right, one sauce per bite and go through this cycle until I'm finished. I'm not OCD or anything.

I know it's some sort of sin, but I happen to love ketchup on my steak. I'm trying to wean myself off of doing this, since I'm fast approaching my thirties and all, but I just really like it. The older I've gotten, the more I've realized that this habit is probably becoming less and less acceptable. When I saw my mom doing it, I thought that if she's allowed to eat ketchup on her steak, so am I. However, if I'm eating steak with someone who has vocalized their displeasure with my doing this, I won't do it in front of them. The chances of me finishing the steak are far lower in this instance, though. So if you're one of those people and you're buying the steak, please be aware. ;-)

My favorite fast casual place to eat has to be Chipotle. In my office, we all have a special place in our hearts for it. It's one of those words that, once said, cannot be forgotten. Because of this problem, we dubbed it The C-Word. It's much easier to eat what you brought from home or something cheaper or healthier if the word hasn't been spoken. Saying it out loud and not eating it is almost a sin. Thank goodness I had it for lunch or else Jillian would be fired tonight and it'd be me, my couch and a burrito bol tonight. Instead, I'll be letting Jillian torture me and wishing I'd just eaten that stupid SmartOnes for lunch.

I'll try to be better tomorrow. Maybe...

It's Been Too Long

I don't even remember the date of my last post, that's how long ago it was. And what makes it even worse is that The Boyfriend has posted twice since then! I feel as though he cheated a little because he posted something like two times in three days. But still! No girlfriend should let the posts be up for close to (if not more than) a week before she reads them either. For that, I'm apologetic, but also am blaming that stupid Big Girl Job.

Speaking of the Big Girl Job... A couple of weeks ago, I had to take a last minute trip to San Francisco that really tested how well I am capable of functioning on little to no sleep. I'm sure it sounds all glamorous that I got to go all the way to California, but traveling for work is harder than working in the office. I did get to see a little bit of the city, but mostly in the dark. If you happen to be planning a trip there, I can certainly direct you to San Fran's finest FedEx Kinkos stores. Their employees aren't all that helpful at first, but if you call them in excess of 20 times in a three hour period, visit more than two of their locations and spend the wee hours of the morning with their employees, they start to realize that you mean business and that they aren't going to be able to get away with shoddy workmanship. Just be sure to bring your own personal security. Of all the services that they provide, a bodyguard isn't one of them.

About a third of the way in to the flight from Phoenix to Orlando, one of the flight attendants came over the loud speaker and said "Ladies and gentleman. If there is a doctor or nurse on board, please press your call button." If you know me at all, you know that at the sound of this I was on red alert. It turns out that a lady sitting a few rows in front of me was, for lack of a better term, blitzed. Evidently, she couldn't talk and when she tried, she would just end up spitting. Being the expert lip-reader that I am, I was able to make out a flight attendant saying that the lady had taken too much medication and had too much to drink. She wasn't bad enough off for us to need to make an emergency landing (which probably would've made this post 10 times more exciting), but she did have paramedics waiting for her once we got to the gate. With the assistance of a couple of them, she walked off the plane and made it safely to a wheelchair just inside the airport and that was the last I saw of her.

I'm still trying to get back into the groove of normal life. While my suitcase is unpacked and put away, my apartment still looks as though an F5 tornado went through it. I finally managed to clean my desk up yesterday because I simply could not function with the mess any longer. It's Tuesday and I haven't written my letter to my brother yet this week. And my attempts at working outs are a joke.

I'm taking any suggestions that anyone might have for how to turn things around quickly. I'm also accepting applications for live-in maids.

Things

I'm not always the best at realizing things that I love or that I'm truly thankful for, large and small. I think, like most people, I find it easier to point out the things that I don't love. So I've decided to make a list of both. It may be a little premature, since Thanksgiving and Christmas are still several weeks away, but perhaps it's good that I'm thinking ahead for once.

I may post again later to add or change or update. It's just how I'm feeling today.

I Absolutely Love:
*Baking... pound cake, carrot cake, cookies, you name it
*Getting my hair cut... especially when there's color involved
*Shoes... pretty, high-heeled ones
*The Boyfriends scruffy beard. I just want to reach through my monitor and touch it!
*Being (not even) 5'2"... people generally feel a need to look out for or take care of short people
*My nose
*The feeling of accomplishment after surviving a Jillian Michaels workout
*Sushi
*The excitement and happiness that oozes from my brother's e-mails
*Standard time... as in when the sun sets early in the evening
*Haagen-Daas chocolate ice cream... I could eat an entire pint by myself
*Sleeping on clean sheets for the first time
*Surprises... giving and receiving
*My dad's laugh when he gets really tickled and can't stop
*Hymns... easily my favorite 20 minutes (collectively, give or take) of church
*Doing or saying the exact same thing as my mom at the exact same time... especially if my dad's there because it drives him crazy
*Kevin on a rampage... it's just so funny
*My little family (Mom, Dad, Coley)... love, love, love them
*The Boyfriend... how can I not?
*Black clothes... all articles, seen and unseen
*General Conference
*My mom's chocolate cake... it's to die for
*Wrapping gifts... it's therapeutic for me
*Coca-Cola Classic... it's just so delicious
*Blog-stalking
*Tombstone pizza... especially with Coley after a football game
*Vacation days

I Don't Love:
*Taking out the garbage
*Making my lunch to take to work... why is this so tedious?
*Waking up early... especially for work
*Working out
*The number on the bathroom scale this morning
*Green peppers
*Raw onions
*The silence from my mom that screams disapproval/unhappiness/disagreement/discomfort. She'll never say it because she'd rather I make my own decisions. But I feel it, which makes me feel horrible.
*Diet soda, any flavor - Coke, Sprite, Orange... it's gross and feels like it coats my throat
*Dr. Pepper
*Lizards
*Putting away laundry
*Good-byes... even if they're only temporary
*Being ignored
*Wikipedia... it's not a valid source

Oh, Stop!

As all three of you know, I'm an admitted blog-stalker. I've probably mentioned this before. Practically every day during the week, I make my rounds to all of my peeps that I love to watch from a distance. In my attempts to not be so creepy, I will admit to the author that I stalk them if I happen to see them. If I don't ever see them, I don't have that opportunity and I'm sorry if they wonder who I am. If one of them is reading this right now, then we can just call it even, right?

Anyway. I happen to read a blog that I found while creeping around and it's as public a blog as I have ever been involved with. It gets awards and has contests and whatnot, but it's also fun to read and there's a little Gospel tidbit in there every once in a while. (It's here if you want to take a peek.)

Just now I was reading a post about how kids are always proud of themselves and rarely complain about a compliment. They usually will agree with you before thanking you for it. Somehow as we grow up, we are more hesitant to accept compliments and it becomes difficult for us to do. She asked a simple favor, to smile and say thank you the next time one receives a compliment instead of discounting it, and it made me think that that's something that I should work harder on.

The Boyfriend is great at this. He's very quick to agree with a compliment you give him. He'll probably even correct you if your compliment is lacking (i.e. "You like good today." "No, I look dang good today!"). You would think it could get annoying, but I happen to love this about him. There's no shortage of self-esteem there, but it's not over-powering and we often joke about whether we need to roll a window down to make room for his ego.

He's not shy about complimenting others, either. Okay, I can't make that general a statement. What's more accurate is that he's not shy about complimenting me. I should really be more grateful for that. There are tons of people out there who take never say a positive thing to their significant, even replacing compliments with put-downs. Instead of complaining him how fat I am (which he hates) I should just do something about it and be satisfied with the knowledge he's happy with me just the way I am. This doesn't mean that I'll stop complaining about the hateful Jillian Michaels her heinous hour-long work outs.

Baby steps, right?

P.S. I love getting a hair cut and got one on Saturday. While I wanted to look like this (bod and all, let's be honest!):

I ended up getting two inches trimmed off the ends. I only got a trim because The Boyfriend likes my long hair. (Imagine that! I get that he LIKES it long!) And frankly, I like that he likes it long and I'm okay with keeping it if it means I get to keep him.

I did learn something this weekend, though. If I ever want to cut my hair crazy-short and have him not go into cardiac arrest because of it, the time to do it is when he's studying for mid-terms. He was non-responsive to my attempts at trickery and said it was just hair and would grow back eventually. This is completely uncharacteristic because two short months after we started dating, I couldn't even complete the sentence "I'm thinking about cutting my hair..." before he yelled "No!" Yes. He yelled. The end of that sentence was to be "to my shoulders," but he wasn't taking any chances. That was a fun night... :-)

Ahhh Memories

Yesterday afternoon, while e-mailing back and forth with Jen (to make the day go by faster, of course), I was reminded of what great memories I have of my prom and homecoming experiences from high school. Please don't misunderstand me. I went with the people that I wanted to go with, but other surrounding circumstances didn't make for as magical an evening as I had envisioned.

I was asked to prom my sophomore year by a senior who used to "keep me company" while I waited for my mom to pick me up from school every day. When he asked me, he said it so non-chalantly that I looked at him, made a face that probably said "What kind of crack are you smoking?" and said "No!" without even hesitating. I really thought that he was just joking around, but I was wrong. Regardless, I didn't go with him and I think he also stopped stalking me after school because of it.

My junior year, I was finally asked to homecoming by a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed surfer boy that (practically) the entire female population of SHS was lusting after. At the time, I thought he was pretty hot myself, though I don't think that I was all that into him. I like to think I was just testing the waters to see if I could land a date with someone way out of my league. After much negotiation performed by a mutual friend, he finally got the balls to ask me. Why he took so long, I'll never know. Obviously I said yes and we went with Jen, her date, and Michelle.

We had a decent time and I have pretty pictures to laugh at now, but I don't remember too much about the evening anymore. I do, however, remember that I was starving after getting my hair done and ate a Big Mac late in the afternoon. This resulted in me not being all that hungry when we went to dinner, so I probably only ate one quarter of the dinner that he paid for. I also remember him being mad at his mom because he wanted to drive her nice, newer model Camry, but she made him take their older car with an air conditioner barely worked. And when we got home after the dance, we opened the door and my parents, aunt and cousin started yelling "Wet paint! Wet paint! Be careful!" They decided to paint the foyer while we were gone.

Something happened to me between my junior and senior years. I was no longer capable of landing the hottest guys in school and was left to fish in the band pond. Don't get me wrong, I dated the head bandy - the drum major. (Go big or go home, right?) He was nice enough, I guess, and it took little convincing to get this guy to ask me to homecoming. We had a decent time and started dating shortly after homecoming (and when his Mono cleared up.) Sometime between Valentine's Day and prom, he broke up with me. Yes, folks, I got dumped. Via instant messenger, too!

He was such a winner, though, that he asked me to prom even though we were no longer dating. I only said yes after one other person (that I definitely didn't want to go with) asked me and my dad gave me a really hard time about how I'd "regret it" if I didn't go to my senior prom. So several days after the initial invitation, I agreed. That, my friends, is when the real shenanigans ensued.

He asked what color my dress was so that he could match, or so I thought. When I said gold, he decided he wanted to wear something silver. When he asked where we should go for dinner, I suggested a seafood restaurant in Cocoa Beach on the river. He simply said "No." I wanted to scream "Well why did you even ask, then?!" We ended up going to an Italian restaurant where our server scrawled her name upside down, in crayon, on the butcher paper that served as our table cloth. There were little kids running around in shorts and t-shirts. While eating dinner, he suggested that we go bowling before going to the actual dance. He said it kind of sarcastically and as though he were testing me somehow, so I just said "I'll bowl in this dress. And I'll win, too." So we did. And I did.

The real kicker was his getup. I was slightly annoyed that he had no interest in renting a tux because that's generally what people do for prom, if not a nice suit. He was having no part of that, despite my not-so-subtle hints and enlisting the help of one of his friends. He arrived in black pants and a black coat with shirt on that was half white and half black. The piece of fabric behind the buttons was some weird pattern, too. But that wasn't even the worst part. The absolute worst part was the white top hat that he decided to wear. Without any mention of it to me beforehand, mind you. My dad still laughs nervously when we talk about this. And all he can say is "She was pissed. I didn't even know what to do about it."

To this day, I wonder if he purposely left my corsage at his parents' house so that we'd have to go by their house to pick it up and they could see, with their own eyes, how badly he was torturing me. He later told me that he looked for white cane, but couldn't find one. I told him that it was a good thing because I would've sent his happy behind home. Alone.

Anyway... All of this was brought up yesterday when Jen and I were discussing how great I have it now. Of course, The Boyfriend always thanks me for "setting the bar so low" for him. As if I did it on purpse. Clearly, I didn't, but I do have a better appreciation for him because of all the winners that came before him.

Jen summed it up pretty well by saying, "It's going to take a lot to recover from the top hat and tails debacle of 2000, but if anyone can bring about redemption, it's the Double R."

I'm pretty sure he already brought it. On our first date. It wasn't that difficult to do.

Four Year Itch

The company that I work for is pretty generous in it's vacation-giving. You get two weeks when hired, along with a couple of floating holidays and sick days. When the calendar year that your third anniversary starts, you get three weeks. I happen to be on the more positive end of this because my anniversary is in September. Last year I hit three years, so I was pretty excited about an extra week to use.

Prior to getting three weeks, I was a bit of a hoarder when it came to vacation. I didn't really have anywhere to go, since my family lives an hour away, so it wasn't all that necessary to take a week off to go visit them or even to take longer weekends. I ended up just saving my time and taking a couple of weeks off around the holidays. Last year I, inadvertantly, did this again. I was to be off for practically a month, including the time that the office is closed for the holidays, but was assigned a meeting that took up two weeks of my vacation. They were kind enough to let me carry over my remaining days (normally, we have a use-it-or-lose-it policy), but the catch was that I had to use it by the end of March.

In the beginning, it seemed like a daunting tasks to take over two weeks of vacation in the first quarter, especially considering I was pretty busy. Lucky for me, things got cancelled, The Boyfriend made his grand entrance, and my brother was getting ready to leave, so the days started dwindling. I think I went almost two months without being in the office for a full week. Needless to say, it was fantastic! And the days off didn't stop at the end of March, either. I just kept taking them; sometimes with a purpose, other times willy-nilly. It became a personal goal to take every single day that I've earned this year.

Right now, with three full months left in the year, I'm left with three and a half vacation days half of a sick day remaining. All but the half sick day have been planned. I don't really have anywhere to go right now and I don't regret how I used the countless days I've already taken, but I'm wishing that I had some more time available to me. I'm chained to my desk!

Perhaps it's because I haven't done much in the way of work this year. I'm considerably less busy this calendar year than I was last. Isn't that obvious? And when I'm not busy, I just simply don't want to be at work. If I had things to do, it would be much easier for me to get out of bed every morning and drive to work. I'm also thinking it has something to do with the fact that I've been in the same position, doing the same things for the last four years.

Sure, there are projects that I'm hoping to get assigned to, but there's no guarantee that I'll actually get them. I've taken on a "new role" and more responsibilities, but I'm not being compensated for it... "yet." I just feel like I'm going through the motions and I don't like it. I'm ready for something new - a change of scenery or something. Even the new things that I've been put in charge of don't seem to be interesting. Maybe I'm just not putting the effort into that I should...

I'm not entirely sure what to do about this. If the truth be told, I've got it pretty good here. I've got the most seniority (if that even applies) in my position and a decent reputation. And come January, I'll have another three weeks of vacation to figure out something to do with.

But January is sooooooo far away...

Klutzy? Not Usually...

Today I'm meeting Kev and his little brother (not blood, like from the Big Brothers Big Sisters organization) at Blizzard Beach and then heading to Melbourne afterward. Because of all of this, I had to pack my stuff to spend the night. I got all my stuff together and I thought to myself "I'll just run my stuff down to the car and then put on my sunscreen and then head out." No big deal, right?

Perhaps it wouldn't be a big deal if I hadn't been prancing around all morning in just my bathing suit. Thankfully, it's modest. In fact, I had a pretty tough time getting into it, thanks to the built-in corset made of spandex and elastic.

Right now, I'm pretty glad that nothing is moving anywhere in this suit because I took my chances with not putting anything on over my bathing suit to run my stuff to my car. I figured it's not even 10 a.m. yet, no one that's going to care what I have on will be up this early on a Saturday morning. I get to my car and the guy parked next to me must've been drunk when he got home because he's parked at an angle and I could hardly open my back door while holding my stuff. Obviously I'm in a rush here because, well, I just look silly. So I finally stuff my belongings into the back seat and make my way back to my apartment.

As I'm walking, I'm looking at my shadow to and thinking "Why is it that when you know there's nothing covering your shoulders, it looks like you're naked in your shadow?" Yes, these are things that run through my head. I was also trying to make sure that my posture was as perfect as possible so there were no unsightly bulges escaping from my bathing suit. I wanted to at least appear as though I were a trained swimsuit model to and passers-by.

Ask me how many times I've climbed those stairs in the last four (and change) years. Ask me how many cases of water I've carried up said stairs without a problem, like it's a pillow. Ask me how many times I've had any sort of spill on those stairs.

Two. That's how many times I've come close to eating it. Until this morning.

Yes, as I got to stair number 11 (of course I count them - every time. you don't?) something happened. I don't know what it was, but it wasn't good. Perhaps the combination of counting and sucking in and walking gracefully was just too much. My brain overloaded, one of my feet miscalculated the distance to step number 12 and I was going down, down, down.

Why is that when you trip, the other foot doesn't realize that something's amiss and just stay put? Why does the other foot keep doing what it was orginally d0ing? Shouldn't they work as a team, always aware of what the other is doing and ready to compensate when their partner goofs? I think they should, but obviously this isn't the way it works. It's one of lifes cruellest jokes.

I was able to catch myself and have no injuries to report... yet. On the way down, all I could think about was how I didn't want to scrape my knees and then have to be at a water park today. I should've been more concerned with whether or not I was about to flash an innocent bystander because of a wardrobe malfunction. The good news is that the bathing stayed intact. In fact, I didn't even have to readjust once I pulled myself back up off the stairs as quickly as possible.

This had better not be a preview of what my day is going to be like. The next time I find myself going down, I'm staying down and playing dead. Someone better be standing by, ready to perform mouth-to-mouth.