One of the things that I now get is the lack of control you feel when trying to start a family. For some people I'm sure that there are positive changes that can improve their chances of conceiving or carrying a baby. In our case that's not the issue, therefore cue my lack of control panic button.
The only thing that I can control was what I was putting into my body from a food perspective and how active I was being. I looked at a bunch of different challenges and weighed my options - ha! no pun intended - and landed on the Advocare 24 Day Challenge. Now, I have used Advocare in the past and I like their products. Do I think I need their products in order to lose or maintain weight loss? Nope. But I liked the structure of the challenge, the fact that the food is laid out regarding what types to eat, and there's no hand slapping if you screw it up.
I'm on Day 18 and I feel good. My clothes are fitting better, I have more energy and I'm sleeping better. Yay for cutting out processed foods and eating clean. I haven't felt once like I didn't have options for meals or snacks and while it's increased our grocery bill a little it's not been drastic. I haven't gone full organic because I do have student loans to pay off.
Now if you know me you know that I have never met a donut I didn't like. Donuts are my kryptonite. I have passed up donuts twice in the last 5 days. I smelled them but I didn't eat one. Progress! Today I was feeling good about this challenge. I ran into the grocery store for windshield wiper fluid - who carries summer formula in the winter?!?! - and saw them.
The elusive Dove coconut creme eggs.
They only come out once a year and I am capable of eating an entire bag within a day or two. I grabbed a bag and was so excited about having one after my work out! I hadn't eaten any preservatives, additives, processed nothing in over 2 weeks and I knew how I was breaking that streak today.
Imagine my despair and disappointment when I took that first small bite - you know, to make it last - and it tasted like crap. Cloying artificial sweet crap. Y'all, I didn't even take a second bite but tossed the whole thing in the trash. My raspberries and almond coconut nut butter were way better (Maranatha makes that amazing deliciousness, by the way, and Kroger carries it if you have those around you).
This was a win, I know it was. But it sure felt a little like a loss when I threw away that little dollop of coconutty creme.
Oh yeah, does anyone want a slightly used bag of coconut creme eggs? In exchange I'd accept good paleo recipes for coconut treats.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Possibly the Worst Advice
I've debated for the last few weeks about writing this post. But I finally decided to bite the bullet and get this out. Consider it a PSA for those of you who know someone who is going through fertility treatments or infertility issues. I'm not speaking for everyone who has fertility concerns or issues, but in discussions with friends who have been down this road, this is a common feeling.
One of the worst things you might say to any woman who is trying to get pregnant is the word relax. I get why people say it. It makes you feel like you're helping, it's advice that everyone can relate to and there's nothing you can do to make the situation better. I've probably said it myself to friends and not even realized. But, if I'm being honest, I can only assume it makes you feel better. Because it does not make me feel better. What does the word "relax" or "Just try to relax" make me feel? A couple things:
1. That this is my fault. If I would just relax, my reproductive system would suddenly begin to work. If I would just relax I would be able to get pregnant. It's like having lemon juice squeezed over a paper cut - the cause hurts bad enough on it's own.
2. If all it took was being relaxed then we should have gotten pregnant when we started this journey almost 2 years ago. And it is a journey. You go places when you are navigating doctors and specialists and treatments that are completely foreign and uncomfortable, both physically and emotionally.
3. Why are there fertility specialists if relaxing is the thing to do? There'd be nothing for them to do beyond writing scrips for Ativan or something. Or all us ladies trying to have a baby would be camped out in Colorado smoking a whole lot of pot.
I do think that stressing over the lack of pregnancy, the worry that IUI won't work, the desperation of wanting a baby can be detrimental. There are too many stories about women, whom I'm sure we all know, that get pregnant when they stop treatments, when they adopt, when they make peace with not having a child, to discount the role that stress may play at times and in different situations. But I do not believe that stress is keeping me from getting pregnant. There are medical reasons that we're having trouble. Relaxing isn't gonna cause any of those reasons to improve.
The thing is there are no easy words of advice that bring comfort. The words that mean the most are words that tell me that even if my friends haven't gone through this, they still know it sucks. They realize that saying "I'm sorry that you have to go through this" means more than anything. Because the thing is, I know that no one can solve this problem with words. I don't need people to tell me it'll be ok and that it'll happen when it's meant to happen - because, peeps, it may not happen. Saying that it'll happen in God's time - nowhere in the Bible does it promise me that I will get to have a biological child. It just doesn't which means that in His time may mean it's not happening. And sometimes all I want is the acknowledgment that people get that this stinks. It doesn't mean that we have to belabor the point - you know it sucks, I know it sucks, we all wish it were different but it's not.
I don't mean to come off as being harsh or unfeeling toward my friends wanting to help, to sooth, to express their hopes for us. I love that our family and friends want to help us, to give us something to cling to. Working through infertility is like getting married in a way. Everyone will have an opinion on what you should do. And a lot of the time you have to let the advice and thoughts shed off you like water. You know they're giving advice because they care about you and they want to contribute in a way that could make things easier. So if you are reading this and you are one of my friends who has recommended I try to relax, please know that I'm not silently fuming or crying into my milk that no one understands. I know you meant well. But if this post makes anyone who reads it stop and think before offering the words "Just try to relax" to someone you know (besides me) that is trying to have a baby then I'm glad I wrote it. That person may need some words of hope, some words of love or just some recognition of the fartiness that infertility is.
I seriously love you, friends, even if you've told me to just relax.
One of the worst things you might say to any woman who is trying to get pregnant is the word relax. I get why people say it. It makes you feel like you're helping, it's advice that everyone can relate to and there's nothing you can do to make the situation better. I've probably said it myself to friends and not even realized. But, if I'm being honest, I can only assume it makes you feel better. Because it does not make me feel better. What does the word "relax" or "Just try to relax" make me feel? A couple things:
1. That this is my fault. If I would just relax, my reproductive system would suddenly begin to work. If I would just relax I would be able to get pregnant. It's like having lemon juice squeezed over a paper cut - the cause hurts bad enough on it's own.
2. If all it took was being relaxed then we should have gotten pregnant when we started this journey almost 2 years ago. And it is a journey. You go places when you are navigating doctors and specialists and treatments that are completely foreign and uncomfortable, both physically and emotionally.
3. Why are there fertility specialists if relaxing is the thing to do? There'd be nothing for them to do beyond writing scrips for Ativan or something. Or all us ladies trying to have a baby would be camped out in Colorado smoking a whole lot of pot.
I do think that stressing over the lack of pregnancy, the worry that IUI won't work, the desperation of wanting a baby can be detrimental. There are too many stories about women, whom I'm sure we all know, that get pregnant when they stop treatments, when they adopt, when they make peace with not having a child, to discount the role that stress may play at times and in different situations. But I do not believe that stress is keeping me from getting pregnant. There are medical reasons that we're having trouble. Relaxing isn't gonna cause any of those reasons to improve.
The thing is there are no easy words of advice that bring comfort. The words that mean the most are words that tell me that even if my friends haven't gone through this, they still know it sucks. They realize that saying "I'm sorry that you have to go through this" means more than anything. Because the thing is, I know that no one can solve this problem with words. I don't need people to tell me it'll be ok and that it'll happen when it's meant to happen - because, peeps, it may not happen. Saying that it'll happen in God's time - nowhere in the Bible does it promise me that I will get to have a biological child. It just doesn't which means that in His time may mean it's not happening. And sometimes all I want is the acknowledgment that people get that this stinks. It doesn't mean that we have to belabor the point - you know it sucks, I know it sucks, we all wish it were different but it's not.
I don't mean to come off as being harsh or unfeeling toward my friends wanting to help, to sooth, to express their hopes for us. I love that our family and friends want to help us, to give us something to cling to. Working through infertility is like getting married in a way. Everyone will have an opinion on what you should do. And a lot of the time you have to let the advice and thoughts shed off you like water. You know they're giving advice because they care about you and they want to contribute in a way that could make things easier. So if you are reading this and you are one of my friends who has recommended I try to relax, please know that I'm not silently fuming or crying into my milk that no one understands. I know you meant well. But if this post makes anyone who reads it stop and think before offering the words "Just try to relax" to someone you know (besides me) that is trying to have a baby then I'm glad I wrote it. That person may need some words of hope, some words of love or just some recognition of the fartiness that infertility is.
I seriously love you, friends, even if you've told me to just relax.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
IUI Round One; Bruised But Not Broken
Oh friends, this road is hard. We've been kind of mum on the whole process until now because we didn't know what it would be like. And even though we want to be open and transparent about our struggle, we don't know when or how we want to tell people that we're (fingers crossed, prayers said and jump over a well backwards - ok, I just made that last one up) pregnant. So we have been a little more hesitant to share lately.
We attempted this whole IUI thing in December but my body rebelled, my meds weren't quite right and we couldn't do the actual procedure. January rolls around and we were ready steady go. After a few bobbles, a lot of tears and wondering if this would all work this time around we were able to complete a cycle.
Then came the waiting....waiting...waiting. Was that a twinge? Was that a cramp? Am I more tired than I usually am? Ew what's that smell? Is this all in my head? Truth: I was way more tired than normal and a little queasy. But the beginning of this week came, along with a blood draw and a few hours of bated breath waiting. And sadly that afternoon brought the heart bruising news that we were not yet destined to be parents. Likely the increased meds are the cause of all of my "symptoms" along with a small bit of (I'll admit it) overactive desire to have those symptoms.
I have a group of girls whom I love fiercely. (They are not my only group that I love fiercely, FYI. I am blessed to have so many of these women and men in my life.) We meet and we talk and we pray and we cry and we laugh, oh how we laugh. And we study. Our current book was so timely for this week. The first chapter of this (The Storm Inside by Sheila Walsh if you're interested) is about heartbreak. She talks about how the very essence of being heartbroken is to have unimaginable loss. She talks about the difference between burdens and loads and how we need others to help carry our burdens but loads can be borne alone. Most importantly she says "God has promised you that whatever you face, you are not alone. He knows your pain. He loves you. And He will bring you through the fire." on page 13 (not trying to plagerize, y'all!).
I am amazed daily these days how I am exactly where I need to be and surrounded by those who will help bear our burdens. That doesn't mean that I get to share my rucksack of issues...you know, my load. There are things that I need to keep to myself. Things to discuss with God. Things to try and change. (Like my temper when I'm in traffic. Really, who's going to help bear that one? I can't stand it and it's mine.) Things that I seek counsel on from my a friend who is iron sharpening iron, but who doesn't try to share my load. In the end only I can do something about those things.
This faith doesn't mean that I don't hurt, that I don't rage at times over how unfair this is. That I don't get angry, and that some days I need others to cover me in prayer because I can't bring myself to talk to my beautiful, loving, merciful Father. That I don't despair at times when looking at our finances and thinking of how different things would be if we weren't seeing specialists (don't worry, y'all, we're good). That I don't cry tears of grief over a child we have yet to know because that desire to know them is so strong.
But He will bring me through the fire. Through the fire. He doesn't promise I won't be changed or even singed, but that I will survive. I know that not everyone who reads my posts believes the same things I do. But this is where I find my comfort, along with DH, family and friends who have wrapped us up in gentle arms this week as we're feeling our bruises, moving carefully around the sore spots and wondering how long the healing may take. Despite our bruised hearts, we're not heartbroken. This is not an unimaginable loss for us. We knew that this round might not work, and that actually no round might work. There are no guarantees when it comes to this fertility rollercoaster. My only guarantee is that while I am bruised and battered, this experience will not cover the rest of my life. I have not lost a parent, a child, my brothers and sisters, my husband. I have not lost my faith. Those are the unimaginable losses for me. Those are the causes of heartbreak and I am thankful that I can say I have not been heartbroken in this lifetime of mine.
We attempted this whole IUI thing in December but my body rebelled, my meds weren't quite right and we couldn't do the actual procedure. January rolls around and we were ready steady go. After a few bobbles, a lot of tears and wondering if this would all work this time around we were able to complete a cycle.
Then came the waiting....waiting...waiting. Was that a twinge? Was that a cramp? Am I more tired than I usually am? Ew what's that smell? Is this all in my head? Truth: I was way more tired than normal and a little queasy. But the beginning of this week came, along with a blood draw and a few hours of bated breath waiting. And sadly that afternoon brought the heart bruising news that we were not yet destined to be parents. Likely the increased meds are the cause of all of my "symptoms" along with a small bit of (I'll admit it) overactive desire to have those symptoms.
I have a group of girls whom I love fiercely. (They are not my only group that I love fiercely, FYI. I am blessed to have so many of these women and men in my life.) We meet and we talk and we pray and we cry and we laugh, oh how we laugh. And we study. Our current book was so timely for this week. The first chapter of this (The Storm Inside by Sheila Walsh if you're interested) is about heartbreak. She talks about how the very essence of being heartbroken is to have unimaginable loss. She talks about the difference between burdens and loads and how we need others to help carry our burdens but loads can be borne alone. Most importantly she says "God has promised you that whatever you face, you are not alone. He knows your pain. He loves you. And He will bring you through the fire." on page 13 (not trying to plagerize, y'all!).
I am amazed daily these days how I am exactly where I need to be and surrounded by those who will help bear our burdens. That doesn't mean that I get to share my rucksack of issues...you know, my load. There are things that I need to keep to myself. Things to discuss with God. Things to try and change. (Like my temper when I'm in traffic. Really, who's going to help bear that one? I can't stand it and it's mine.) Things that I seek counsel on from my a friend who is iron sharpening iron, but who doesn't try to share my load. In the end only I can do something about those things.
This faith doesn't mean that I don't hurt, that I don't rage at times over how unfair this is. That I don't get angry, and that some days I need others to cover me in prayer because I can't bring myself to talk to my beautiful, loving, merciful Father. That I don't despair at times when looking at our finances and thinking of how different things would be if we weren't seeing specialists (don't worry, y'all, we're good). That I don't cry tears of grief over a child we have yet to know because that desire to know them is so strong.
But He will bring me through the fire. Through the fire. He doesn't promise I won't be changed or even singed, but that I will survive. I know that not everyone who reads my posts believes the same things I do. But this is where I find my comfort, along with DH, family and friends who have wrapped us up in gentle arms this week as we're feeling our bruises, moving carefully around the sore spots and wondering how long the healing may take. Despite our bruised hearts, we're not heartbroken. This is not an unimaginable loss for us. We knew that this round might not work, and that actually no round might work. There are no guarantees when it comes to this fertility rollercoaster. My only guarantee is that while I am bruised and battered, this experience will not cover the rest of my life. I have not lost a parent, a child, my brothers and sisters, my husband. I have not lost my faith. Those are the unimaginable losses for me. Those are the causes of heartbreak and I am thankful that I can say I have not been heartbroken in this lifetime of mine.
Monday, February 2, 2015
Silver Spoon Adventure: Week 2 - Beef Stroganoff
Well readers, this one isn't nearly as funny. Or as colorful, come to think of it. I love my version of beef stroganoff which is probably as American as it comes. My version is elbow macaroni, a handful of mushrooms, a pound of ground beef and a can of cream of mushroom soup. That's it. If I'm feeling frisky I add in some paprika. Finito (you're all jealous of that Italiano, I know you are!).
The Silver Spoon beef stroganoff, or Bue Alla Stroganoff, is straight from scratch. There's heavy cream and strong mustard and a half cup of butter. First off, what the heck is strong mustard? Even Google failed me. I couldn't find anything on "strong" mustard except that Dijon can be strong and extra strong. Kroger had neither. In fact they had no strong mustard anywhere. So we went with Dijon because at least it was supposed to have strong brethren. I almost had to sneak the butter in because DH was watching and he's a butter Nazi. Maybe a butter Fascist working for Il Duce?
You must have a Revolver Boch when making homemade stroganoff.
The outcome was good but very beige. It was heavy and a little too tart for me. I'm guessing it was the cream and lemon juice mixture...almost like sour cream, but not quite. It didn't specify what kind of noodles to use, so we improvised with whatever we had on hand.
As you can see below...it's all one color. All. One. Color.
The Verdict: When we make it the next time we might try a lighter cream or 2% milk, and I'll probably cut the sugar completely or at least by 1/2. Oh and I'll make something a color other than beige or slightly orange.
We froze the extra and ended up having it with linguine later on in the month. I liked it much better the second time. Maybe it was the noodles?
Up Next: Roman Spring Lamb
The Silver Spoon beef stroganoff, or Bue Alla Stroganoff, is straight from scratch. There's heavy cream and strong mustard and a half cup of butter. First off, what the heck is strong mustard? Even Google failed me. I couldn't find anything on "strong" mustard except that Dijon can be strong and extra strong. Kroger had neither. In fact they had no strong mustard anywhere. So we went with Dijon because at least it was supposed to have strong brethren. I almost had to sneak the butter in because DH was watching and he's a butter Nazi. Maybe a butter Fascist working for Il Duce?
You must have a Revolver Boch when making homemade stroganoff.
The outcome was good but very beige. It was heavy and a little too tart for me. I'm guessing it was the cream and lemon juice mixture...almost like sour cream, but not quite. It didn't specify what kind of noodles to use, so we improvised with whatever we had on hand.
As you can see below...it's all one color. All. One. Color.
The Verdict: When we make it the next time we might try a lighter cream or 2% milk, and I'll probably cut the sugar completely or at least by 1/2. Oh and I'll make something a color other than beige or slightly orange.
We froze the extra and ended up having it with linguine later on in the month. I liked it much better the second time. Maybe it was the noodles?
Up Next: Roman Spring Lamb
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
The Silver Spoon Adventure: Week 1 - Pork en Croute
Week 1 - Pork en Croute
DH and I picked this recipe strictly from the picture in the book. It looks delectable! It's a pork loin with what looks like a mushroom tapenade all wrapped up in puff pastry. Um, that's pretty much exactly what it is. So we venture out to Kroger to get our weekly groceries and the ingredients to amke this dish. We pick everything up, the mushrooms, lemon, onion, pork loin and phyllo dough. What's that you say? Phyllo dough isn't the same as puff pastry? Yeah, I learned that lesson the hard way.
We decided to make these recipes on Sundays since we have more time to make dinner. Our normal weeknight dinner is usually planned out but sometimes I may or may not eat half a block of cheese and a glass of wine while I'm cooking. And then there are the nights that we say "Screw it!" and just order pizza.
I get the mushroom and onion mix going, I'm feeling pretty dang good about this recipe. I even read through it multiple times to make sure I didn't mess it up. I mean, this is The Silver Spoon and I'm Italian. If I screw this up I'm pretty sure the Polizia di Stato come and take away my Italian card. So there I am, stirring away, getting everything ready to go. And I ask DH to come trim the fat off of the pork loin.
Now, the concept of this dish is that you have a pork loin. And you slice it like a hotdog bun and open it up. The mushroom mixture goes on one side of the "bun" and the other side is folded on top. You slice the filled loin in half and wrap the whole thing in puff pastry. The end result when you slice it is a stuffed pork loin. Everyone good with that rambling description? Good.
Well my lovely DH comes to the kitchen, takes the pork loins out....wait, what? Pork loins? Our two pound package of pork loin was 2 one pound loins. Hmmmm....so we improvised and beat the crap out of the loins to flatten them enough to stuff with the mixture. We ended up with 2 very long more narrow than really acceptable loins that dropped mushroom stuffing everywhere. Enter into this tragedy the imposter puff pastry: The Phyllo Dough. In my defense the box said "Phyllo puff pastry". Kroger didn't have puff pastry by Pepperidge Farms.
I have taken the time, followed the instructions etc. to make sure the phyllo dough is thawed and is ready to be "rolled twice the width of the loin". I had a flutter of misgiving when I opened the package and a sheaf of paper rolled out. Those misgivings increased quickly when I attempted to roll the very dry phyllo sheets wider than God intended. I was ready to give up, toss the overstuffed pork under the broiler and call it a day. But my engineering DH separated the bundle of dough into for stacks that overlapped in the center to create enough dough to wrap the pork in. So we wrap it up, pop them in the oven and wait.
They come out looking...ok. Not quite the picture in the book. But it looks like this might be a winner-ish.
The picture from the book...seriously check this out at your local book store or Amazon!
We let it rest, we sniffed it, we were standing ready with mouths watering. Finally the 10 minutes pass and we can cut into these bad boys.
Can you see the layers upon layers of uncooked phyllo dough? It's there. You don't have to squint...it's freaking layer upon layer people!
The Verdict: As now noted for my future generations to come within the book, make sure you buy ONE pork loin, not two babies parading as a larger one. And more importantly, phyllo dough may be wonderful for baklava, but it is not in fact a replacement for puff pastry. Ever. The dish was tasty, and when you scraped off the uncooked dough, the crispy bits were good. We did finish eating the whole thing though!
Up Next: Beef Stroganoff
DH and I picked this recipe strictly from the picture in the book. It looks delectable! It's a pork loin with what looks like a mushroom tapenade all wrapped up in puff pastry. Um, that's pretty much exactly what it is. So we venture out to Kroger to get our weekly groceries and the ingredients to amke this dish. We pick everything up, the mushrooms, lemon, onion, pork loin and phyllo dough. What's that you say? Phyllo dough isn't the same as puff pastry? Yeah, I learned that lesson the hard way.
We decided to make these recipes on Sundays since we have more time to make dinner. Our normal weeknight dinner is usually planned out but sometimes I may or may not eat half a block of cheese and a glass of wine while I'm cooking. And then there are the nights that we say "Screw it!" and just order pizza.
I get the mushroom and onion mix going, I'm feeling pretty dang good about this recipe. I even read through it multiple times to make sure I didn't mess it up. I mean, this is The Silver Spoon and I'm Italian. If I screw this up I'm pretty sure the Polizia di Stato come and take away my Italian card. So there I am, stirring away, getting everything ready to go. And I ask DH to come trim the fat off of the pork loin.
Now, the concept of this dish is that you have a pork loin. And you slice it like a hotdog bun and open it up. The mushroom mixture goes on one side of the "bun" and the other side is folded on top. You slice the filled loin in half and wrap the whole thing in puff pastry. The end result when you slice it is a stuffed pork loin. Everyone good with that rambling description? Good.
Well my lovely DH comes to the kitchen, takes the pork loins out....wait, what? Pork loins? Our two pound package of pork loin was 2 one pound loins. Hmmmm....so we improvised and beat the crap out of the loins to flatten them enough to stuff with the mixture. We ended up with 2 very long more narrow than really acceptable loins that dropped mushroom stuffing everywhere. Enter into this tragedy the imposter puff pastry: The Phyllo Dough. In my defense the box said "Phyllo puff pastry". Kroger didn't have puff pastry by Pepperidge Farms.
I have taken the time, followed the instructions etc. to make sure the phyllo dough is thawed and is ready to be "rolled twice the width of the loin". I had a flutter of misgiving when I opened the package and a sheaf of paper rolled out. Those misgivings increased quickly when I attempted to roll the very dry phyllo sheets wider than God intended. I was ready to give up, toss the overstuffed pork under the broiler and call it a day. But my engineering DH separated the bundle of dough into for stacks that overlapped in the center to create enough dough to wrap the pork in. So we wrap it up, pop them in the oven and wait.
They come out looking...ok. Not quite the picture in the book. But it looks like this might be a winner-ish.
The picture from the book...seriously check this out at your local book store or Amazon!
We let it rest, we sniffed it, we were standing ready with mouths watering. Finally the 10 minutes pass and we can cut into these bad boys.
Can you see the layers upon layers of uncooked phyllo dough? It's there. You don't have to squint...it's freaking layer upon layer people!
The Verdict: As now noted for my future generations to come within the book, make sure you buy ONE pork loin, not two babies parading as a larger one. And more importantly, phyllo dough may be wonderful for baklava, but it is not in fact a replacement for puff pastry. Ever. The dish was tasty, and when you scraped off the uncooked dough, the crispy bits were good. We did finish eating the whole thing though!
Up Next: Beef Stroganoff
Sunday, January 18, 2015
The Silver Spoon Adventure
DH was lovely enough to surprise me with The Silver Spoon for Christmas! I've drooled over this cookbook for years but never put down the cold hard cash for it. This book is a tome.
It is over 1500 pages. So we have decided to make one dish every week for the next year to try and use it at least an infinitesimal fraction.
So far we've made Pork en Croute, Beef Stronganoff and Roman Spring Lamb. I've got pictures and pointers ready to post. Now to start writing the posts to go with them! The lamb is the hands down winner right now.
Enjoy your week, y'all!
It is over 1500 pages. So we have decided to make one dish every week for the next year to try and use it at least an infinitesimal fraction.
So far we've made Pork en Croute, Beef Stronganoff and Roman Spring Lamb. I've got pictures and pointers ready to post. Now to start writing the posts to go with them! The lamb is the hands down winner right now.
Enjoy your week, y'all!
Friday, December 5, 2014
5 Things I Enjoy Recognizing
1. When I do know my job and can defend myself without being a jerk about it. Not everyone plays nice in the sandbox. Sometimes I wonder if it's just a bad day. Or a bad year. Or if they really hate anyone who has a different opinion. I know I have bad days and sometimes a person just gets under my skin. But I'll admit that I do like being able to defend myself and what I do.
2. Seeing that I can work out longer and harder than I thought when I started. I'm not running 1/2 marathons over here, but it's a small sense of accomplishment when I can do the extra 10 minutes. The reality TV rotting my brain while I work out may have something to do with the extra 10 minutes. Lisa Vanderpump, if you're reading this (and of course she is), I hope that you see how ridiculous your staff makes themselves, and by extension, you look every Monday night. You're not a foolish or ridiculous woman. In fact you pretty much kick butt and I only wish I would ever be as successful as you are. But that staff...I'm only watching at this point to see most of them fall off their high horses. Sure makes me not want to visit LA ever. Ever.
3. Being financially responsible. Yeah, this is a boring grown-up thing. But it's pretty cool to set a budget, stick to it and then get to use the extra money to pay things off. Dave Ramsey know's what he's talking about! If you work the system, the system works. We've only been at it a couple months, but feel so much better, even this month, knowing where we're telling our money to go instead of wasting it on stupid disposable crap.
4. That some days you just need a bowel of cereal. And a husband who will run out at 8pm and choose a box for you. When you can't choose one yourself and you end up in a heap on the couch moaning "I don't know!" when asked what kind you're hungry for.
5. How awesome my friends are. It's not like I doubt that. Please, stay, I don't!!! But it can be easy to overlook the amazingness that encompasses my closest friends. Although I suppose it would be weird if I didn't think they were amazing...why would we be hanging out then? Weird.
2. Seeing that I can work out longer and harder than I thought when I started. I'm not running 1/2 marathons over here, but it's a small sense of accomplishment when I can do the extra 10 minutes. The reality TV rotting my brain while I work out may have something to do with the extra 10 minutes. Lisa Vanderpump, if you're reading this (and of course she is), I hope that you see how ridiculous your staff makes themselves, and by extension, you look every Monday night. You're not a foolish or ridiculous woman. In fact you pretty much kick butt and I only wish I would ever be as successful as you are. But that staff...I'm only watching at this point to see most of them fall off their high horses. Sure makes me not want to visit LA ever. Ever.
3. Being financially responsible. Yeah, this is a boring grown-up thing. But it's pretty cool to set a budget, stick to it and then get to use the extra money to pay things off. Dave Ramsey know's what he's talking about! If you work the system, the system works. We've only been at it a couple months, but feel so much better, even this month, knowing where we're telling our money to go instead of wasting it on stupid disposable crap.
4. That some days you just need a bowel of cereal. And a husband who will run out at 8pm and choose a box for you. When you can't choose one yourself and you end up in a heap on the couch moaning "I don't know!" when asked what kind you're hungry for.
5. How awesome my friends are. It's not like I doubt that. Please, stay, I don't!!! But it can be easy to overlook the amazingness that encompasses my closest friends. Although I suppose it would be weird if I didn't think they were amazing...why would we be hanging out then? Weird.
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