Take Me Out to the Ballgame

On Sunday afternoon, I trekked up to Dallas for a quick trip to see the parents.  I had gotten tickets to a Rangers game for Padre for Father's Day, so I drove up the night before to spend some time with them.  

In an effort to be supportive of this Whole 30 thing, Wonderlynn asked what kind of food I needed around the house while I was up there.  I decided to see if she'd let me make dinner for all of us, and I would eat the leftovers the next day.  I found an incredible-sounding chili recipe that I wanted to try, and I figured that everyone likes chili.  Because her expertise is in hostessing and providing a full meal for people (not just the main course, which is all I pretty much ever do), I would also need a vegetable side dish.  In other words, it was the perfect time for me to enact phase one of Mission: Brussels Sprouts.  (For starters, I feel I should clarify that this food is called Brussels sprouts, not brussel sprouts, as I have always thought.  Thank you iphone, for correcting me.)  I recently discovered the greatness of this mini-cabbage, much to my mom's chagrin.

"Ew!!! Gross!! I will not eat those!!!!!" is something along the lines of her reaction when I threw them in the cart at the grocery store while she was in town last month.  I talked to Goola recently, who informed me that Poppy shares this attitude.  After polling several other family members, we discovered that an unfortunate group have been subjected to poorly prepared Brussels sprouts, thus leading them into a life lacking in the enjoyment of a delicious food.  Goola and I decided we were going to crack them.  I informed my mom that she would eat Brussels sprouts, and she would like them.  She was nice enough not to argue.  

I also made cornbread for the parents to enjoy with their chili.  It was the only part of the meal I did not partake of, but I didn't feel too deprived.  Discussing it with my mom later that night, I remarked that it is further evidence of my inability to do anything in moderation.  It was far easier to have no cornbread than it would have been to have just one piece.  

For the two hours that the chili simmered, Wonderlynn continued commenting how wonderful it smelled.  Sadly, I don't know her stove well enough, and it simmered a little higher than the "low" setting that was called for.  While it didn't damage the flavor at all, it did lead to bowls of liquid so piping hot that Padre needed to cool his off with ice cubes.  No lie.  

For me, it just meant a few extra minutes to enjoy the Brussels sprouts.  The reactions?  Padre said they were better than any he'd ever tasted... but it still wasn't something he'd choose to eat.  Wonderlynn was much more enthusiastic.  The word "delicious" was used at least twice, and she requested the recipe!!  Here she is enjoying the Bohemian Brussels Sprouts - recipe linked.  

Here's a shot of how they look after being cooked.  We did bake them at a lower temperature than the recipe called for - 380, I believe, and took them out a bit before the 30 minutes was over.  Madre's oven is pretty hot though.  They will look like they're starting to burn... that's when you know they're getting good.  The outsides look charred, but are actually delicious, and the insides will be the perfect amount of tender.  Mmmmm. 

 I wanted to show off Wonderlynn's cute new(ish) dishes.  I luf them. 

Again, I was not lying about the ice. 

 

 Yesterday afternoon, Padre and I headed out early to Arlington for the game.  It was picked up by ESPN, which moved the time up an hour to 6pm.  Great from a traffic standpoint.  Seemingly terrible from a weather standpoint.  Padre had the fantastic idea to pack towels for us to use as sweat rags.  You may laugh, but it was 112 degrees when we pulled up to the ballpark.  Our seats were right in the sun, but we found some good ones a few rows up that were in the shade and set up camp.  It ended up being quite pleasant.  We had a nice breeze and never touched the towels. 

Look at the cute matching hats that he bought us to wear to the game?  (I mean, not cute.  Rugged?  Sporty?)  I like them.

 

The Rangers lost in a rout to the Angels, but we were happy to cheer for Hamilton as he broke out of his slump a little.  We also played a game that kept the entire night more entertaining.  

When I started this eating plan, the baseball game was the night I anticipated being the hardest.  No hot dogs.  No slushies.  No nachos.  No... peanuts????  Thankfully, I found a recipe for some coconut flakes that you toast and sprinkle with cinnamon and salt.  Padre informed me that it wasn't bad for a snack if you were trapped on a desert island.  I thought they were much better than that.  Totally met my cravings for something salty and a little sweet to snack on during the game. 

I am now eight days in, and while I haven't yet experienced the life-changing effects that everyone swears I will experience, I am quite pleased.  I have not been hungry or felt like I was dieting at all.  It definitely takes more preparation to avoid pitfalls, and it's weird not drinking diet coke anymore.  Still, though, the weirdest thing that I miss the most is gum.  Chewing gum is off limits because it contains artificial sweeteners.  I never would have thought of myself as a habitual gum-chewer, but it is the singular thing that continues to make me feel "deprived."  (I use the word loosely because it is far from deprivation.)

Part of the plan also dictates that you stay off of the scale for the month so you don't get preoccupied with losing weight.  Well, I broke that rule.  My trainer started his own version of biggest loser among his clients this week, and I am in it to win it.  But I had to get a starting weight for the challenge.  Without doing any cardio or changing anything else aside from my food, I am down 2.5 pounds in a week.  I'll take it!  Now it's time to kick it into gear... I'm always down for some healthy competition.  

As for the allergy side of things, the outlook isn't as positive.  I wrote about how I had another reaction last week.  I finally made it in to see my doctor today, and he wants to go ahead and do allergy testing for foods to see if we can pinpoint what the problem areas are.  The rational side of me is totally on board.  Every reaction I have gets increasingly frustrating, and it makes me a fairly miserable person to be around.  I am genuinely hopeful that I can figure out what I need to avoid in order to keep it under control.  A small part of me fears that the testing won't result in anything conclusive.  Four years ago, they did extensive testing for environmental allergens (aka, trees and mold and stuff) and determined that I am not allergic to any of the normal culprits.  If that happens this time around, I don't foresee myself reacting well.  The biggest issue, as always, is my needle phobia.  For any of you unfamiliar, it is a full-blown phobia.  The textbook factor that distinguishes a phobia from a fear is its irrationality.  No words or any other gestures can calm me down or make me feel better about it.  After a lot of trial and error, though, I've figured out a few ways to make the best of it and cope as much as possible.  Before I made it home from the doctor, I had already found someone to drive me to and from my appointment so I can take medicine that will calm me down significantly.  I am currently working on plans for the night before to keep me distracted.  The big day is August 9th.  My appointment is at 8:30 am, CST, and prayers are much appreciated.  

Until then, I will be doing everything in my power to keep me from thinking about it.  

One last note... I feel I should give a shout out to the chick responsible for most of the recipes I have been indulging in this past week.  I linked to her sprouts recipe above, but I highly recommend checking out her extensive archives.  You can find her blog here.  She actually lives in Austin, too.  I downloaded the free sample of her new cookbook, but most of the recipes are available on her site as well.  I look forward to buying the whole book soon, as I have not had a complaint about anything I've tried yet.  Even if you aren't intending to cut out insane things from your diet, her recipes are pretty darn delicious.  Both my parents can testify.  

4 Days In... Murphy Stops By

I have been wanting to share this meal with you since Wednesday for a few reasons: 

1) It was delicious. 

2) I only spent ten minutes longer than the recipe said it would take... a monumental achievement for me.  I blame some of those ten minutes to texting while cooking. 

3) I get to show off a sneak peek of the surprise package I received last week. 

4) It was delicious. 

Friends, I made veggie spaghetti.  The name is totally misleading.  First of all, it's called veggie spaghetti because it's made with spaghetti squash instead of pasta (which is why it's Whole 30 - approved).  Second, the word "veggie" suggests that it is meat free.  That is not the case.  

I had heard of spaghetti squash before, and kind of knew what it was, but I have been missing out.  If you haven't tried it, you are missing out too!  You find it with all the other squashes in the produce section.  I happened to buy it at Whole Foods, but I'm reasonably confident that it is a pretty common vegetable and can be found at your average grocery store.  To eat it, you cut it in half lengthwise and scoop out the seeds as shown in the picture below.  Then you put it in a roasting pan, cut face down (not like the picture shows), with 1/4 cup of water and roast at 400 degrees for 30-40 minutes.  When it's tender, you scrape out the inside and it turns into spaghetti!!  Oh, you should probably let it cool a little to make the handling easier.  Important detail.

It was super easy.  I snapped this picture to show off the cute serving and cookware that Poppy and Goola sent me last week!  This picture does not do justice to the fantastically bright and cheerful colors.  They even consulted with Wonderlynn and made sure not to include anything orange!  I am definitely excited to try it all out as I continue on this dietary adventure.  

Back to the recipe, though.  While the squash is roasting, you brown some ground beef, and chop up a ton of vegetables, and throw them into a big pot with a couple cans of crushed tomatoes.  That's it. I was actually able to wash and chop all the vegetables, and only took a few minutes past the squash's cook time.  Personal victory.

Below you can see what the squash looks like in spaghetti form.  While willing to try it, I had doubts about the quality as compared to pasta.  I actually grabbed a bite to try plain, and it's very similar.  The recipe concluded with pouring a small amount of olive oil on each bowl of squash and then serving the sauce on top.  The end. 

I was genuinely surprised by how much spaghetti the seemingly small squash (well, hello there alliteration) produced.  That being said, it was still negligible when matched with the sauce quantity created.  I suppose most people (my mom comes to mind here) would freeze half the sauce to use for later.  But I love food.  I love large amounts of it.  So I managed to divide it up and squeeze it into four of those ziploc tupperware things.  Each one was probably about two bowls' worth, but since it's almost all vegetables, I didn't feel a bit guilty about it.  

On Wednesday, I actually half before and half after my workout, so I didn't have to work out on a full stomach.  Thursday night I brought it over to eat while my small group dined on scrumptious-looking tacos.  After explaining that no, I am not in fact too good for their food, they all mentioned how yummy my dinner smelled.  This is one for the go-to easy meal list.  

I haven't been able to sit down and share this all with you until now because it has been a busy 48 hours.  After finishing my food Wednesday night, I rushed over to watch Lilo and Stitch with my favorite family not connected to me by blood.  Because they are so much fun, I didn't leave their house until 12:30 am.  That made waking up for Algebra camp a little rough, but it was the last day.  Hooray for the end of summer school!  I left the house yesterday with all three of my meals for the day.  Right after camp, I drove - car seat with me - to pick up two precious little boys from daycare and babysat them for the rest of the day.  Then I swung by walmart to buy a chair for my balcony (pictures forthcoming) and headed to small group.  By the time I made it home last night, I was wiped and went to bed early.

That brings us to today: Day 4.  So far, I have had no problems other than the constant craving for gum.  I have found the meals really yummy and very hunger-satisfying.  Today was no different, save for one detail.  

The hives are back.  

This time on my legs and in the crooks of my elbows.  

I feel like my body is attacking itself, beginning with my bloodstream and working its way outward.  I was so frustrated that I really just wanted to cry.  I called my allergist, who was already gone for the day.  The other doctor in the practice called in some steroids to calm down the hives until I can call again on Monday.  I took one and then settled in for a long, long nap.  The medicine keeps me from sleeping, so I thought I'd enjoy a few hours before it kicked in.  I feel a little better now, but the frustration is still here.  

For the last few hours, I've been camped on the couch watching the opening ceremony for the Olympics and planning the next 9 days of meals.  I must admit, the sight of QE2 parachuting out of a helicopter, in a dress!, and strolling into the arena still looking prim and proper as ever was enough to temporarily motivate me back into butt-kicking mode.  Four days of being at home or within constant reach of a fridge where I could store my food made for an easy start to this 30 days.  My schedule is a lot more chaotic and sporadically on the road in the upcoming days.  I knew this would require much advance planning.  Here is a glimpse of what that looks like for me: 

 

 Thank goodness for Microsoft Excel.  Love. It. 

Alright, I don't want to end on a negative note, so let me just say that I will be using my medicine-induced alertness to get a lot of stuff done around the house before my roommate moves in.  Say a prayer for my immune system and my epidermis, and prepare yourselves for some pictures of my domestic projects.  

Love, 

Murphy & Me

Dear Diary...

I hate journaling. 

Hate.  It. 

I tell my students all the time that I would fail language arts as a student today because they have to journal all the time.  I guess I'd probably just make up stories or something to fill the space because my innate need to make straight A's would take over, but I definitely wouldn't take it seriously.  

I bring this up because I have started a journal.  Allow me to explain... 

I mentioned last week that I had broken out in hives.  This isn't a first time allergic reaction.  Last summer I had hives show up on my stomach one day.  A few more the next day.  Then BOOM!  Day three I woke up and it looked like I had gotten chicken pox all over again.  Three different doctors couldn't figure out what had caused them, but they all agreed it was an allergic reaction to something and that it was most likely something I ate/drank/medicine I took as opposed to something my skin came into contact with.  

After a week of medicine and discomfort, the bumps were gone and stayed away for months.  Then Easter Sunday I woke up with more hives on my neck.  That was especially fun.  Marks all over your neck are great as a middle school teacher in April when it's too hot (not to mention insanely uncomfortable) to cover them up with a turtleneck or some kind of collared shirt.  After a few days of benadryl and cortisone cream, the hives were gone but the itching remained.  The next Monday I woke up with the craziest red splotch on my neck.  It turns out I had scratched my neck so much in my sleep that it bruised the skin.  Let me repeat: I teach twelve year olds for a living.  I realized quickly that I would need to come up with an entertaining explanation to get my students to quit asking questions, so I decided to tell them all that I fought an alligator.  By this point in the year, most of my kids were used to my sarcasm and knew to just quit asking.  A few, however, bought it completely.  One in particular was a girl who had collaborated with me in various pranks and hijinks and should have known better.  We had the following exchange - 

Student: "What happened to you?!" 

Me:  "Oh.  I fought an alligator." 

Student:  "Huh?"

Me:  "Yeah, I went to Louisiana this weekend." 

Student:  "Ohhhhhhhhh.  Okay.  Wow, were you on a boat or something?"

Me:  "Well, I was at first.  But then I got out of the boat, and that proved to be a poor decision on my part." 

Student:  "Oh man, that's crazy!  Well, I hope you feel better!" 

That conversation pretty much sums up what I love about my job.  

Back to the reason for this blog, though.  I've had a few smaller reactions since Easter, and then a big one again last week.  I still have zero clue what is causing it.  I returned to my allergist who gave me some medicine to calm the hives, but he reiterated that I probably wouldn't figure out the cause.  That wasn't quite good enough for me.  

While I was sitting around throwing a pity party for myself and my lack of complete and utter contentment, I kept reading posts on facebook about this thing called Whole 30.  I looked it up and discovered that it's a diet, similar to paleo, that strives to kind of reset your body.  For thirty days, you don't consume sugar, grains, legumes, dairy, or alcohol of any kind.  Instead you eat a lot of meat and vegetables, along with some fruit.  Initially, I was intrigued but didn't consider it as something I'd want to try.  As I kept reading, though, the developers described how this thirty day reset allows people to find the causes for a lot of ailments, including food allergies or sensitivities.  I decided it was worth a shot and bought the book.  

Then I learned that artificial sweeteners are out as well.  No diet coke?!  I'm supposed to give up everything tasty in the world AND not consume enough caffeine to function?  Yikes.  

Friends, I'm trying it anyway.  Today is Day 1.  Last night I went to Whole Foods to stock up on food for the next few days.  Armed with ingredient lists from a few recipes, I perused the produce section.  I managed to track down ingredients I had previously never heard of - garam masala, anyone?  Check out the bounty of goodness I brought home!

It's hard to whine about no diet coke or splenda when I have this to anticipate. 

I also recently bought an actual salad bowl (you know, so I don't have to serve salad in a metal mixing bowl).  

It's just begging for something crisp and delicious to fill it.  Is it strange that I feel like purchasing a salad bowl is more a sign of adulthood than purchasing a house?  Because I do.  

For those of you unfamiliar with Whole Foods or the general crunchiness of Texas hippies, allow me to share the reading material available in the check out aisles here: 

Raising chickens has become pretty popular in Austin recently, and now it's garnered enough of a following to warrant its own magazine.  Crunchy does not mean unfriendly, though.  When ringing up the mangoes, my cashier asked if I had tried the mango-nectarine hybrid fruit.  (Yep, we're so green that even our fruit exists in hybrid form.)  I confessed that I wasn't sure I had ever even tasted a plain nectarine.  He immediately sent one of the baggers to pick out a ripe nectarine for me to take home, on the house.  

It was scrumptious.  (And I now think that I may have had a nectarine or two in my life prior to last night.  No more than that, though.)

Okay, so a month of super healthy eating might not seem terrible.  Here's the hard part.  

I have to record it allllllllll.  

Technically this is not part of the outlined plan, but if the entire purpose is to figure out what's causing my body to go haywire, I need to keep track of what I eat and any reactions that occur.  Ugh.  Continuing my reign as Least Introspective Human Alive, I am not naturally inclined to think about my day/life/relationships/whatever and how the various elements affect me.  

In order to make this more enjoyable (and hopefully more motivating), I bought a cute notebook to keep track of everything.  Brand new school supplies have always energized me for new projects.  

Here is an example of today's entry - I list each meal and what I eat/drink at the top.  At the bottom I will list any vitamins or medications that I take and when.  At some point during the day, I aim to jot down any notes of my energy levels, hunger/fullness, and any other strange side effects I experience. 

To save me from listing every ingredient I consume throughout each day, I only write the name of a recipe in the meal log, and I started a separate section in the back of the notebook for ingredients found in each recipe.  Here are the two I've eaten so far today: 

So far, the day has gone pretty smoothly.  I enjoyed the chicken and apple hash for breakfast, and was decently full until lunchtime.  Because dairy is off-limits, I added coconut milk to my coffee this morning (and afternoon).  It's the recommended substitute on the plan.  It doesn't make the coffee especially sweet, but it does lesson the bitterness of black coffee enough for me to stand it. 

I anticipate that time will be the biggest hurdle.  Without fail, I always take at least 4 times the listed amount of time to prepare a recipe.  Lunch today was supposed to take 15 minutes.  It took me 90.  Unless that 90 minutes was determined by dividing it up over the 4 servings I prepared, I am in for a long haul.  The meal was delicious, though, and extremely filing.  And aside from some perspiration (standing over the stove in the middle of the afternoon is not recommended) and two broken nails from the vegetable peeler, day one is thus far successful! 

I will continue to let you know how I feel over the next thirty days.  The website makes very bold claims of how incredibly different people feel after a month of cleaner eating.  I have no doubt that I will hit some bumpy days along the road though.  

On a complete side note: you may have noticed two changes.  1)  I think I have it set now so anyone can comment without logging in to an email account or anything.  Let me know if it isn't working for you.  2)  There are now ads on the side of my blog.  Sorry.  I know, I'm a sellout or whatever.  But hey, just remember that any minute income from those ads goes directly toward the supplies necessary for me to have future blog material.  And toward a sharper vegetable peeler.  

Quintessential

After my last blogging adventure, I thought I was done.  I had fun and learned a lot, but after my one year commitment to documenting my life ended, I lacked vision.  Since then, a few things have changed.  The most noteworthy change is that I am now a homeowner.  On May 10th, 2012, I signed a whole lot of papers and (after a few small mishaps that I'll surely recall here at a later time) got the keys to my own house.  

Truthfully, one of the primary causes for this huge step is simply the fact that I hate moving.  I had already moved six times in the eight years since I began college.  My lease was ending soon, and my roommates were about to embark on adventures of their own - Kristin moving to Boston, and Amanda getting hitched.  I didn't really have a plan, but I knew I have never been a fan of apartment living and that I wanted something a little more permanent than a lease.  After much research, a lot of driving around, a few disappointments, and great patience on the parts of my parents, realtor, and the friends who came with me to keep me focused on the task at hand (rather than cute spice racks or awesome wood paneled walls), I found it.

Sure enough, there were a few things I'd want to change immediately; the most obvious was the wall color.  My mom did not instill in me an appreciation for a full house of powder blue walls.  There were also things that I knew I would want to update over time.  I started putting together a list and came up with my own sort of triage to prioritize these updates and projects based on cost, need, and an attempt at being realistic.  Naturally, my old friend Murphy had a few tricks up his sleeve.  Tonight, over a period of 120 minutes, a full series of events occurred that I couldn't keep to myself.  Here is the quintessential example of Murphy's Law and me: 

Without going into too much detail, I am having some weird allergic reaction and don't know the cause.   I noticed some hives on my neck on Sunday that exploded all over my arms, legs, and - most delightfully - my armpits by Monday morning.  As a result, I feel trapped in this shell of itchy discomfort.  To make it more enjoyable, my doctor prescribed me some medicine to help with the hives... but that keeps me wiiiiiide awake.  The madre warned me of this side effect, and she was right as ever when I was still awake at 4:30 this morning.  I am teaching a summer school camp right now, so I woke up shortly after that and armed myself with a few diet cokes for work.  By 1pm, I made it home, scarfed down some lunch, and curled up on the couch to take a nap.  Around 5, I woke up when the doorbell rang and answered the door in disoriented shambles.  I have no idea how the solicitor kept a straight face when talking to me.  My hair was a messier version of Pebbles Flintstone's classic updo, and my eye makeup had smeared everywhere while I napped.  

I caught up on some emails, watched some television, and gradually came out of my groggy medicine coma with high aspirations of painting my master bathroom.  Around 7:15, I trudged into the kitchen to slave over a microwave dinner but was distracted by movement near the kitchen window.  

FIRE ANTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

At this point, I should inform you that eleven days ago, I stepped in a fire ant mound after Amanda's wedding ceremony and collected thirty (Yes, I counted.) ant bites.  Apparently the relatives of those ants found out where I lived, swam here on an ark during last week's insane storms, and decided to sneak in through the kitchen to get revenge.  

Ew.  I didn't know what to do, but I knew I needed to do it quickly.  I pulled up the blinds and opened the window, intending to just pop out the screen and sweep the whole mess outside with some wet paper towels.  

Bad.  Move.  Allow me to humbly discourage you from a similar course of action should you find yourself in this predicament someday.  

Opening the window revealed a crack through which an entire army of fire ants came marching out (not one by one, as the song suggests) and into my house.  Ah!  I ran in circles for a sec before remembering that my dad had bought a can of wasp and hornet killing spray when he was here in May.  I grabbed it and let loose, spraying this toxic material all over the kitchen window, outside the window, and along the floor beneath the window.  I used the entire can.  

Once all movement had ceased and I snapped a quick pic of the carnage, I got some paper towels and cleaned up the mess while trying to come up with a plan of action.  At this point, I called my uncle to find out what I should do to seal up the crack that all the ants poured through.  No answer, so I left a message.  I ran upstairs and threw a t-shirt over the only tank I've been able to comfortably wear during my allergic hive-fest, and jumped in the car to get some gas and head to the store to seek out some more toxic fire ant killer.  

Key detail: in the hubbub, I did not eat any dinner.  My geriatric lifestyle typically mandates that I eat dinner before 6:30 pm, and I get a little crazy if that doesn't happen.  

On my way to the gas station, I also called my brother, dad, and one other male friend to seek out advice for the situation.  None answered their phones.  Stepping on the brakes as I approached a stop sign, I noticed a weird noise in my car.  It was faint, but definitely there.  I called one last guy friend who on occasion has demonstrated some basic knowledge of automobiles and hoped I could stop by his house for a consult.  Another unanswered call.  By the time I reached the gas station, my dad had seen his phone and called me back to provide some product info and advice for the ant situation.  Then, lacking any real knowledge of car-type-things, I decided to check out the source of the noise under my car.  Without looking around at all to see if cars were driving toward me, I walked to the front of my car and dropped to the ground on my stomach.  

Bingo.  There was a huge sheet of metal hanging from it.  No lie, this was not a new experience for me.  At this point, it's about 7:55 pm.  I called the Honda dealership, which informed me that their service desk was closed but would reopen in the morning.  Remembering a Jiffy Lube around the corner, I decided to take a shot and called them.  I can only chalk it up to divine intervention that these fine gentleman who normally close up shop at 8 were told tonight to stay at work til 8:30.  Reid answered the phone, listened to my latest predicament, and told me that he could help reattach the skid plate (for future reference, that's what it's called) but that I needed to swing by Auto Zone down the street to pick up some skid plate screws.  

As I parked at Auto Zone, my uncle called me back and enjoyed a hearty laugh while confirming my father's advice on how to deal with the ants.  I explained that another situation had arisen, which had to be dealt with in a more time-sensitive manner, and we hung up.  Michael at Auto Zone then informed me that he couldn't sell me skid plate screws until he knew whether I needed metal or plastic, and what size.  I tried to get him to sell me the entire stock to bring to Jiffy Lube and just return the unused one, but Michael didn't like that idea.  He said maybe Jiffy Lube could ziptie the skid plate as a temporary fix and let me know which screws to buy.  

At Jiffy Lube, I was miraculously the only customer.  Reid and partner met me outside, explained that they do not believe in such temporary fixes as zipties, but told me they'd take a look anyway.  Several minutes later, I saw Reid walk inside and cut a few pieces of what I swear looked like that curling ribbon used for giftwrap.  Ha.  My life.  I casually asked him if I could get my oil changed while I was there, insisting that I would gladly come back tomorrow if it was a bad time.  Reid explained that it was already a bad time, but that they might as well change the oil while I was there.  I followed him out to the car to give him my car's info.  His partner then informed me from underneath my car that there was only one badly deformed clip holding the skid plate in place and that my best bet was to throw it in the trunk and take it to the Honda dealership.  Done.  I can handle that.  They finished the oil change and sent me on down the road. 

Next stop: Wal-Mart.  I was going to pick up some ant killer, caulk for the windows, and Great Stuff to help seal up the cracks.  While I was there, I decided to also bake some cookies for Reid and partner for being so nice to me about my car.  I saw not one, but two coworkers there who recognized me in my disastrous state.  Upon paying, I headed out to the car - still itchy, still hungry, and quietly laughing about the prior two hours.  But I wasn't done yet.  

I then proceeded to walk up and down seven rows of the parking lot before I found my car.  Along this trek, I passed a former student who hopefully didn't recognize my now-hysterical state of laughing out loud and all by myself at the situation.  

By the time I made it home and had a chance to check out the window/ant situation, it was pitch black outside.  I pulled out a big flashlight and hoped for the best.  Unwrapping the first can of Great Stuff, I screwed the nozzle on too tightly and snapped off the cap.  Nothing could faze me at this point.  I had another can, got to work, and then cleaned up and baked some yummy chocolate cookies to bring back to Jiffy Lube tomorrow.  

Just another day, folks.  

Love, 

Murphy & Me

Why Murphy's Law?

I often kid that I am Murphy's Law personified.  So what exactly does that mean?  A brief internet search led me to a few theories as to the original law, but the most commonly accepted wording goes a little something like this: 

"Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong."

Before I continue, let me be clear: this is not an outlet for self-fulfilling, woe-is-me whining and complaining.  Rather, it is my way of sharing the occasional adventures I have that will hopefully bring you a laugh or two.  

I hope you enjoy!