Archive for February, 2009
I have to confess…I have not started the Couch to 5K program like I said I was going to do. Dang, failure sucks. Here’s the thing. I’m really busy and I like sleep, meaning my evenings are booked and morning workouts are a non-option.
Why so busy? I don’t even know, really. I guess mostly due to baking…which does NOT help the whole fat thing. Last week, I learned to make cheese and then had a marathon of baking for three days that ended in some pretty, yummy sweet treats (the comma was on purpose – indicating that the treats are both pretty AND yummy). This week is full of baking, too. I made a german chocolate cake for my mom last night (I’ll post about THAT experience on the other blog tomorrow…), and tonight is her shindig.
Thursday is someone I know’s birthday as well, so tomorrow night will be devoted to baking something yummy for her. And then seeing a certain movie with which we are both obsessed on Thursday. Hands off, Paris! He’s ours and there’s just nothing you can do about it.
Friday is happy hour with some friends (new ones included! Woohoo!).
So you can see, I don’t have much time for working out. I need to find a way to fit it in. Ideally, I could bake the cake or cupcakes and then work out while everything cools, but then I generally need to make icing as well (or, in the case of last night, syrup, filling AND icing that wasn’t really icing but ganache but the recipe called it icing so I went with it much to my dismay)…so that doesn’t often happen.
Gah! How do you juggle a fulltime job that makes you want to hang yourself, a part time hobby that you wish would someday become your fulltime job but requires many hours of practice, a respectable social calendar AND workout time???? It’s just not happening. I don’t even watch TV! Ugh.
Don’t hate me because I’m chubby. Love me because I’ll bribe you with baked goods.
I’m getting much better in the kitchen, especially now that the fantabulous Teresa has shown me how to make mozarella and french bread (which is also easily modified into pizza dough…and we all know how I feel about pizza). When I told her about my gourmet pizza making, she suggested posting it here cuz other peeps might dig it. I have no pictures…I was too hungry to take any before devouring it!
So now I present to you: Gourmet Pizza!
I totally stole this from some chick at the Viking Cooking School.
Step one – make mozarella cheese with Teresa. Okay, you can use store-bought. I just wanted to act cool. And I’m not going to type steps. Blah.
- Pizza dough (homemade is awesome, but I just used a store-bought package, added the required water, plus a little olive oil, and let it rise)
- Tomato vodka sauce (again, you can make it yourself, which I will do soon and post the recipe, but I found Emeril’s version at Shop ‘n Save, so I used that)
- Mozarella cheese
- Andouille (SnS didn’t have it, so I got the Johnsonville Andouille-style sausage…thanks again, T!)
- Fresh & dried orgeno
- Garlic salt
- Olive oil
- Parmesan cheese
While the dough is rising, slice up and brown the andouille (I used two of the sausages from a pack of six). Brown the prosciutto (with some of the fresh oregano), then chop it up (seriously, brown it first…my brilliant ass sliced it up first and, holy crap, what a pain). Set both aside, wrapped in paper towels to absorb some of the grease.
Spread out your dough on your pan and bake for a few minutes (I think at 375). Remove from oven. Brush olive oil around the edge of the crust, then sprinkle with dried oregano and garlic salt (I wish I’d added some right to the dough, so you could try that, too). Spread tomato vodka sauce on crust (I used half the jar). Add prusciutto and andouille, then top with parmesan and then mozarella.
Pop it in the oven, let it bake 9-11 minutes or until the cheese is bubbly and melted and the crust is a yummy brown. Not a gross brown. Big difference.
Go ahead and pour yourself a glass of wine before slicing. Or beer. Mmmm….beer.
Seriously, I don’t eat weird meats, but this was HEAVEN. I now eat prosciutto, thanks to pizza. Pizza makes everything better!
Don’t take my word for it (I don’t even believe it), but Pamster said it. And who the hell are you to argue with the Pamster????
According to Ms. Thang, the Lemonade award comes with the following strings rules:
- Add the logo in your blog. Done!
- Add a link to the person who gave you the award. Done!
- Nominate 10 other (refreshing…like lemonade) blogs of your choice. Erm…
- Don’t forget to add links to those blogs in yours. Ehh…
- Also leave a message for your nominees in their blogs, informing them about the award. Okay…
I gotta be straight with you. I reeeeeally gotta poo right now and I think most of the blogs I read have been tagged in some form recently (or already gotten this specific award), so I’m going to say this: If you read my blog and have your own blog, consider yourself awarded!
Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right now…but I have this easily accesible, so here:
So when Liz posted this fun little game, I had to play along. First, the good part – the questions from Liz and my answers!
- Tell us your BIGGEST pet peeve. Hands down – people. Mainly stupid people, but also bad parents and ill-behaved miscreants. In general, I just despise people. Oh, and there ARE such things as stupid questions and they piss me off. Classic example of a recently encountered stupid question: “How can anyone expect me to do my job without someone here to help me??” Um, what? It’s called doing your job. That’s how we expect you to do it. You get paid every two weeks. How do you think you earn that check? By telling other people to do your shit? Or do you think you are entitled to get paid for not doing anything? Oh.Hell.No.Even worse, the bad parents in public places with misbaving children. It’s called PUBLIC, not your house, ass face. Your screaming child is invading our public over here and it’s ruining dinner. Take that shit outside. I cringe every time we go out to eat and are seated near families with small kids. I will say, though, that the few times I’ve sat near kids but then forgotten they were there because they behaved so well, I really wanted to approach the parents and thank them for doing a good job. I mean, seriously. You decided to have the damn things. Not my fault. Don’t let your bad decisions afflict us innocent bystanders. We just want to enjoy our dinner in peace.
- If your best friend was a celebrity, who would it be and why? Robert Pattinson. I mean, I AM married…it wouldn’t be right for me to steal him from all the eligible fucktards out there. If he were my best friend, then I could stare at him and make him sing to me without my husband getting mad about all the sex…because best friends don’t have sex…dang it. This is backfiring. Just kidding, Mr. T. You’re all the lovin’ I can handle.
- You have to make out with a male celebrity to save your husband’s life. Whom do you choose? Duh. Robert Pattinson. He’s already my best friend, so he’d totally be down with it. And my hubs couldn’t be mad at me about it because, after all, I am selflessly saving his life. Now, where do I sign up?
- You’ve been exiled from the U.S. (or you’re in one of those Roman Polanski situations, but for a different crime, obviously) Where would you move? Where does Robert Pattinson spend most of his time? Cuz I’d move there.But really, I’d move to Costa Rica. I’m okay with Spanish and could totally pick it up again, all the humidity is a good excuse to never have to do my hair again, there are tons of cute rainforest critters to chase around, and it’s never cold. Score.
- It’s Friday night after a craptastic work week and you’re at a bar. What do you order to drink? This is a tough one because I don’t often drink at bars anymore. When I do, I order beer because it’s usually cheaper…but after a really rough week, I’d probably go for an appletini or a long island iced tea because those will solve my problems faster.
Good questions, Liz! That was fun.
If you would like to play along, here are the instructions:
1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. (I get to pick the questions.)
3. You update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post. You know, to pay-it-forward and keep this little interview game going.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions and so on and so forth. The first five ‘askers’ get the interview! (If more than five of you want questions, I’ll do more than five like Liz did. Because she’s cool like that and I want to be cool, too.)
I left work early on Friday to head home and finish packing for the surprise overnight trip Mr. T planned. We headed out and ended up at an adorable bed and breakfast in Augusta. The room was painted bright red, had a super-comfy king sized bed and there was a two-person Jacuzzi tub in the ginormous bathroom. AWESOME! We were greeted with a glass of wine with a cheese and cracker plate and then escorted to our room. Once we settled in, we headed to the restaurant (literally next door…we were told to keep our door locked at all times because sometimes people think our room door is the door to the restaurant!) and had an okay but still romantic dinner. We returned to our room and decided to enjoy the Jacuzzi.
TWO HOURS LATER…the tub was filled. Seriously, two hours. No water pressure. Huge tub. Almost dozed off waiting for the water to rise. But then we relaxed with some wine and called it a night. I fell asleep, but was awoken about an hour later due to some loudmouthed patrons in the bar…which shares a wall with our room. No TV or radio = no background noise = awake Sassy = hell to pay. I was so pissed off. About an hour later, the loud people walked out of the bar and then sat IN FRONT OF OUR ROOM and had a loud conversation for about ten minutes. I had gotten up and dressed and had my hand on the door, ready to open it and give everyone a heads up that there were people attempting to sleep when they said goodbye and left. Of course, Mr. T slept through the whole thing. I was so annoyed that it took another hour for me to fall back asleep, so I was a bit tired for breakfast the next day.
Breakfast was pretty good. They claim it was “gourmet.” I beg to differ. It was more home cooking than gourmet, but it was tasty and that’s really all that mattered. After breakfast, we headed back to our room to pack up and stroll around town. As we left the restaurant and turned to our door, some motion across the street caught my eye.
There was a park across the street. In said park, there was a swingset, which had a total of four swings. The two middle swings were swinging in perfect opposition, as if two people were on them. The two swings on the side were completely motionless. Don’t tell me it was the wind; that’s just not feasible. We looked around, but saw no sign of life other than a dog at the far end of the park. We heard no voices – there were no other signs of people in the area. The swings were swinging on their own. CREEPY.
I told Mr. T, “It’s a good thing that didn’t happen last night, or you would have been driving my scared ass home! There’s no way I would have slept here after seeing THAT!”
It was really bizarre and very creepy.
We packed up and drove around town, waiting for wineries and shops to open. Due to the off season, nothing was really open for a while other than two shops, one of which was an antique shop. We spent a while there, looking at the “old junk” as the owner called it. I had one pretty awesome find – an antique recipe book for cakes and icings. I bought it and can’t wait to read through it. Even if the techniques are too outdated for me, it will still be an awesome piece of decor!
We stopped by two wineries, but didn’t feel much like drinking, so we decided to head home. It was a relaxing retreat, but we wanted to get home to Kitty and Tedders and make a nice dinner together. We did and really enjoyed the time together. I’m insanely in love with my husband and can’t believe he orchestrated such an amazing surprise. He’s such a romantic! *Sigh*
Then Sunday was the baking class at the Viking School…meh. I loved hanging out with Ms. B and playing with food, but I was actually pretty disappointed with the class. I don’t think I’ll invest in another one for a while. The description promised that we would bake 5 cakes. I mean, it was a 5-hour class, so I figured we would each bake a mini-version of each recipe or something. Nope. We divvied up the recipes and each pair or person only participated in one recipe. Now, observing some things can be quite useful, but actual baking is best learned from a hands-on approach. Literally. It helps to feel the consistency of what you are mixing to understand when optimal mix time has been reached. When heat is involved, it helps to feel how the ingredients change and come together. That said, I did learn some useful facts about ingredients and mixing, but was disappointed in the recipes themselves and the “teaching” process…show and tell just doesn’t cut it in the baking arena!
While in class, Schneiderdoodle texted me to say that Twilight is at the dollar show. We decided to hit the 6:45 showing and I was totally excited. How much better could one weekend get??? A surprise romantic getaway, a baking class AND Twilight? It was too good to be true…because the movie was sold out. Yep, the Dollar Show was SOLD FREAKING OUT! Dang, yo. But we will try again very, very soon.
That’s all I got. Nothing else to say right now. And now, a message from our sponsors:
Jeff posted this fun game and his results on his blog, then I posted mine in his comments, but some were so funny that I had to share. Play along, kids! All the cool peeps are doing it!
a. Go to the Google.
b. Type your name and the words “likes to” all in quotation marks. (“Sarah likes to”)
c. Report back on the first ten things that come up for your name.
Here are my ten items:
Sarah likes to dink. [no, not drink. dink.]
Sarah likes to smell Colleen’s armpits.
Sarah likes to walk in the woods.
Sarah likes to be in control and she appears to have some issues with attachment.
Sarah likes to share the wealth, too.
Sarah likes to ROCK.
Sarah likes to recruit new souls for the local Scientology chapter, knit and make things from stained glass.
Sarah likes to pet cute creatures, even if they are just pictures.
Sarah likes to claim 40000 people are being gunned down yearly.
Sarah likes to eat rhubarb crunch.
Now it’s your turn. Do it. It’s entertaining. Either post your results in the comments section, or on your blog, but link back to me so I know you did it and can read it immediately.
And, for the record, I do pet pictures of cute animals from time to time, but I do NOT smell armpits. Not even Colleen’s. And I do like to ROCK.
I adore my husband. He knows that Valentine’s Day is my favorite holiday (even though we all know it’s a faux holiday established by Hallmark, DeBeers and men in diapers) – come on, it’s the pinkest day of the year – and he planned a little surprise weekend trip for our first VDay as a married couple. I have to say, buying that first card from the Husband section of the card aisle was pretty damn exciting, but knowing that he’s planned a surprise that involves leaving the house is just awesome. It melts my icy heart.
If that wasn’t enough excitement for one weekend, we’ll be coming home Saturday because my BFF, Ms. B, is taking me to a baking class at the Viking store on Sunday morning (a belated and superbly fantastic Xmas gift). I am so pumped.
And if those two awesome events weren’t enough, Mr. T came home with three orders for baked goods from a coworker. That and all the bdays coming up in the near future encouraged me to start a new blog on the URL I bought for the bakery I wish to own someday. This way, I can document my forays into baking as well as into opening a business. It’s a long way off from being a real business, but it’s a beginning and I’m happy to share it. Go here if you are interested. It’s still a wee baybay, but one I hope will grow.
Not too shabby for a week’s work, eh? I miss feeling happy like this. I hope this positive streak continues!
KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY ROB! Okay, OUR Rob. He is far too delicate for the conniving mind games from the likes of Paris Hilton and I demand that she keep her famousfornogoodreasonincomprehensiblyoveradmired mitts off our man.
And to the Jonas Brothers…if you make it onto the New Moon soundtrack, I won’t buy it. If your song is in the movie, I will clap my hands over my ears and go “Blah blah blah blah I can’t hear you” in the theater while your shit you like to call music is playing. You don’t deserve to even have your name printed in the vicinity of those such as Muse and Paramore, much less actual craptastic music played in the same playlist. Go away. We don’t like you and we don’t want you in our perfectly crazy little vampire world.
Now, back to work…
You know, kinda yeasty? If so, be warned…vagipants may be in the vicinity.
Don’t know about vagipants? Oh, I’m sure you do. You just don’t realize it. Vagipants can be defined as any pair of leggings or tights WORN as pants (or actual pants) that are so tight that you can practically see the wearer’s vagina through them. Essentially, camel toe (or its horrendously overweight cousin, moose knuckle) is not possible without vagipants.
I think that’s a dude. A dude with REALLY skinny legs. Or a chick with a serious happy trail problem. Let’s go with the latter; otherwise, we’re dealing with penipants and that’s just wrong.
Anyhooha, unless you are a figure skater, there is no reason to wear something that tight in public, especially not at work. It just reeks of yeast infection, and really, no one wants to come face to face with your clamshell at the office. So please, to all the Princess Vagipants in the world, invest in some tunics and save us all the uncomfortable poontang sightings. Please. Seriously, if I have to see the outline of your meat curtains one more time, I’m going to lose my lunch.
I hesitate to put this in writing because it feels so much more binding, but, well, that’s kinda the point…I need an accountabilibuddy (if you don’t watch South Park, my your bad) because I am…
Gosh, it’s so hard to come out and say this…
Just do it already, the anticipation isn’t really that exciting…
Come on. Seriously? This is a whole lot of build up for not much payoff…
There. I said it. Anyone want to do it with me? Or yell at me when I don’t go run? Or when I do go run, but then follow it up with eating an entire pizza? Anyone?
Week one requires 3 workouts that consist of a brisk 5-minute warmup walk, followed by 20 minutes of alternating between 60 seconds of jogging and 90 seconds of walking. That’s 8 2.5-minute intervals. I would start this week, but tonight we close on our refi (don’t even get me started on that drama) and Friday and Saturday, I have been informed, are booked with Mr. T. I’m supposed to take nights off in between, so I’d have to cram all three sessions into Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. This is a bad idea for me, given my history of knee problems/surgery, so I am committing to a M-W-F schedule, or maybe a S-T-Th schedule, which will have to kick off next week.
I’m going to try to sweet talk Mr. T into joining me on this quest, but I have a feeling I’ll be running solo on this one. I wonder if Tedders would be up for this? He’s not huge on running long distances, but the short intervals at the beginning might work out okay. We’ll see.
So…I need someone (or two or three…) to keep me going on this because I am really good at giving up on fitness crap. I did well before the wedding, but now I’m just worthless. And, in case you didn’t know, being worthless is horribly exhausting. Really.
Please? Someone? Anyone? Mr. T won’t do well with the assignment…he’ll just say, “I love you how you are” and then feed me pizza and chips. He doesn’t realized that I will soon be the female equivalent of Jabba the Hut if I don’t get off my ass. He won’t love me how I am then, although I would be interested in putting him in a gold bikini with cinnamon rolls strapped to his head and chaining him to my side…Bring me the wookie.