Category Archives: Uncategorized

Blue. Mother Trucking. Apron.

A few weeks ago I hopped on a plane and visited my BFF in the beautiful state of Michigan.

An aside: I’ve been on a whole lot of planes this year, let’s call that the reason I’ve forgotten to write. Don’t worry friends. I’ve renewed the URL for a whole year. So you’re bound to get at least TWO  blog posts out of that. Probably. Maybe.

Anywho, we laughed. We dreamed. We hit up the local college football game (it is, after all, fall). I drooled over some Ethan Allen furniture. I stood in line for an hour to get into *thee* college karaoke spot.

Glitter tattoos and a new hunter green colored shirt? That's a sure fire way to get me to say yes to any adventure.

Glitter tattoos and a new hunter green colored shirt? That’s a sure fire way to get me to say yes to any adventure.

Second aside: No joke, this place sold BUCKETS of beer. Not like a bucket filled with a few bottles of beer. Not like a fishbowl. Like a giant bucket you would put a mop in. Thirty year old Betsy thought it looked like death. Twenty two year old Betsy would have organized a party. Also, they had a cranky door man (not like Sheriff Woody) who lost all grump and became a total charmer when he saw my Nebraska license. “NEBRASKA!” He exclaimed. “The friendliest people I’ve ever met live there.” Heart melt.

Here’s the really critical part of the story – in the 72 hour fog of running around town with one of my favorite people in the whole wide world – she received a package on her doorstop. Her Blue Apron delivery of the week.

Everyone – lean in , here’s where the story gets amazing – this box? It was magical. And out of it appeared fresh veggies, meat, and EVERYTHING ELSE YOU NEED TO CREATE THREE MEALS FOR THE WEEK.

What?

It’s like a non-domestic women’s dream.

I stand paralyzed in groceries stores. What aisle should I go down? Should I have brought recipes? Do I want to cook this week? Should I make enchiladas again? How do these other women look so confident and assured of what they want to make?!

Friends – no more.

Some genius (I have to believe woman) has put together a years worth of seasonal, fun, random, incredibly different recipes. And every week (or as often as you ask for) the exact portion for three meals comes to your door. With the step by step recipe guide. Like, the kind of guide that tells you the exact order of operations so that your meal all finishes at the exact same moment.

Look! It's everything you need. Seriously everything. And it's so pretty. And pre-portioned. You're just going to have to wash, chop and cook. And you'll look amazing while doing it. I just know it!

Look! It’s everything you need. Seriously everything. And it’s so pretty. And pre-portioned. You’re just going to have to wash, chop and cook. And you’ll look amazing while doing it. I just know it!

And so easily that I made a remoulade.

See that little dollop on top? Yeah. I made that. It didn't just come out of a can.

See that little dollop on top? Yeah. I made that. It didn’t just come out of a can.

Yes, I’ll say it again because I’m sure you’re dying and you don’t believe me right now. I. Made. A. Remoulade.

A remoulade as a side to my cajun catfish and dirty rice.

I’ve never cooked fish in my life.

And I not only attempted it, but I dominated it thanks to my new best friends at Blue Apron. 

The Boy was a bit skeptical of a random box of food that comes to your door delivered by FedEx and if it would be chilled appropriately. But this guy was not only super frozen wonder box packed. But it came with two ice packs. Which I absolutely saved for later when I need them. (No, I’ll probably not ever use them again… but if I need them… I totally have them.)

Like layers of adorable perfection. In a box. All perfectly chilled and ready for me to chop, cook and eat.

Like layers of adorable perfection. In a box. All perfectly chilled and ready for me to chop, cook and eat.

I wish that I was like – AND TADA I CAN SEND YOU YOUR FIRST WEEK FO’ FREE BECAUSE I AM AN AMAZINGLY SUCCESSFUL BLOGGER AND THEY ARE HELPING ME DO A GIVEAWAY.

Insert chuckle here.

I can’t do that. I can tell you that it’s $60 a week. For three meals. Each feeding 2 people.

Sure. You can probably buy those groceries cheaper. Sure. You can probably eat healthier.

But this girl? The one that would always prefer to eat out with friends? I stayed home. I made food. I ate that food. And I never had to go to the grocery store.*

And The Boy? Yeah. He even liked it.

I’ve scheduled my next delivery for a week I’m home 80% of the time and have a strong chance I’ll be able to consume all three meals and their leftover portion (they are sizable portions, no one has finished eating and been hungry yet). Because I can say “No Blue Apron, please don’t send me any meals this week, I’m busy (out of town, don’t feel like eating your seasonal turkey chickpea chili, whatever your excuse is).”

And it’s going to be worth every penny.

Probably more pennies.

Thank you world for creating a product where you’ve eliminated even my basic need to leave the home for the grocery store. I thought mail ordered yoga pants was genius (I have another pro rant for Fabletics if you ever want to hear it…), but this? On call steak in the mail? This is perfect. God bless America.

And the internet.

And food.

Amen.

*Pro tip: I did this the first weekend I moved into my house because I thought ‘wouldn’t it be magical if food just showed up on my doorstep and I didn’t have to venture out for yet another task.’ You do actually need to have oil olive and salt and pepper. That’s it. Every other spice, veggie, meat, garlic clove, butter chunk or mayonnaise bit is included.

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The Fitbit

There’s only one thing that’s powerful enough to drag me out of my six month blogging hiatus.

Something small, magical, inspirational, strong, filled with light and with connections so strong it changed me to my core.

My new Fitbit.

Don’t know what a Fitbit is? Oh, well, I apologize you’re living in 2014. Quick – look at the website and familiarize yourself. Or better yet, keep reading and let me paint you a picture with my ridiculous words.

For Christmas last year I was gifted a Fitbit Zip. It’s just a little guy that you carry around in your pocket and count your steps. Standard pedometer style.Since it was received with a new ski helmet and goggles, naturally I wanted to take it out for its first spin on my trip out to Breckenridge. Plus, talk about going big or going home… I was going to DOMINATE my step goal. 10,000K you’re TOAST!

All morning I ski. And ski. And ski. I don’t want to say I was sweating bullets when I sat down for lunch – but I probably had one million steps. I sit. Check my Fitbit… and it tells me I’ve been active for like 4 minutes and had 1,000 steps.

Which looking at rationally sitting here on my bed typing this in the warm comfort of my temperature controlled room – I get. I mean, skiing is gliding. I understand now. That makes sense.

But at the time it was more like “ARE YOU MOTHER TRUCKING KIDDING ME YOU TERRIBLE PIECE OF TECHNOLOGY?! I HATE YOU AND ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS. I DON’T CARE IF YOU’RE HOT PINK AND YOU MATCH MY SUPER COOL NEW SKI GOGGLES YOU ARE NO LONGER WELCOME HERE.”

And that was the end of my Fitbit for months. I thought nothing of it. Until I notice a girl at work swinging her arm like a crazy person and taking lots of walks. And I see the band on her wrist. It’s a Fitbit Flex. Which I’m fairly positive my brothers got for Christmas and had yet to remove from the box.

I won’t say that 50% of the reason I was interested in this option was solely because Tory Burch had decided to sell stylish accessories… that would be silly (Ahem… shop here).

I nicely asked my brothers if I could temporarily (forever obviously) borrow their Fitbit to see if it was something I was interested in and one (lucky for you blog readers) obliged. I get it out of it’s packaging, put on this rather ugly looking bracelet, sync it to my phone (thank you 2015 technology, you’re so snazzy), start swinging my arms 90% more when I walk and that was that.

Until one day, when as I’m browsing around the app, I realize I could invite people into a step off. That’s right – step off.

You simply invite your friends and see who can get the most steps from Monday to Friday.

Now, I pride myself on being fairly easy going. I’m a people pleaser at heart. If we’re playing something and you need to win, you have at it. All yours. I’m happy to lose. (With the slight exception if you’re my significant other… then I hate to fail in front of you and I hate to lose. Ahem. Sorry babe. Loooooooooooooove you.)

But this step competition? Changed. Me. To. My. Core.

All of a sudden, second place wasn’t good enough in this competition against co-workers and friends. I was walking to EVERYTHING.

No joke – I thought about exercise all day errr day.

People in the competition were simultaneously encouraging and taunting the other participants. Sitting wasn’t an option. I paced the hallway on phone calls. I found myself taking my allotted 15 minute walk breaks at work. I passed up lunch invites so that I could spend extra time in the day walking. I WENT TO THE GYM FOR FUN.

By the time Friday night rolled around, there were a few people fighting for the top spot. I was still in the running and victory was a mere 7,000 steps away.

Only problem? I was headed to North Platte for a romantic getaway with the love of my life that I hadn’t seen in three weeks.

Sure, most people would never look at that as a problem. They’d be delighted. But I was in a crazy step challenge daze. Should I have attempted to look my best for my guy? Probably. Should I have planned some fun outings? Absolutely. But all logic was out the door. The only thing I could focus on was how to squeeze in more steps.

I knew The Boy was an hour behind (time zone wise) and wouldn’t be able to leave work for an hour after me.

So I did the only natural thing in this situation, I ran home, changed into grubby workout clothes and started walking… waiting for him to call so that I could quickly walk home and hop in the car. Sweaty clothes and all. Because what better way is there to drive four hours.

And that resulted in three blissful extra miles.

Which really, only made everything worse. I was so close to winning. So close to victory I could taste it… and yet… I was stuck in the car for the next four hours and out of time.

Or was I? I arrive in NP, call The Boy to check on his progress, turns out he (unhappily) hit a hail storm that slowed him down and was going to be an extra hour.

One. Extra. Hour.

And then friends – I did something that I have never done before in my entire life. I checked into the hotel, threw my bags on the bed… and ran right down to the gym at the hotel to hop right back on the elliptical.

At a hotel. On a vacation.

And there I stayed until The Boy arrived.

Yes, it was nearly 11pm. Yes, he wasn’t all that thrilled that he showed up and I was a breathless sweaty mess. Yes, I am out of my mind. … but most importantly… YES I WON THE DAMN STEP CHALLENGE.

fitbit77,797 steps in five days.

I’m simultaneously proud and terrified of myself. I won because other people went to bed at a rational hour… or did something fun on a Friday night.

Nope. Not this girl. She just kept walking! Arms swinging, calves cramped, walking. Like the true lunatic she is.

So do yourself a favor and get yourself a Fitbit.

Then invite me into a challenge.

And just try to beat me. I dare you.

That One Time I Decided to Take Up The Boy’s Hobby

Guys.

I haven’t told you this yet, because I wanted to make sure I didn’t die before I completed the season, or do something super awesome like break my arm (WHICH ACTUALLY HAPPENED TO SOMEONE ELSE PLAYING)…

…but I joined a Frisbee league this summer.

For fun.

And mainly to figure out what this game that The Boy loves so much is all about.

And let me tell you, it’s all about running.

That’s the general summary.

You run. And then you run some more. And then you run extra for fun. All while trying to make sure a disc doesn’t hit you in the face and while attempting to run either to or away from someone.

The fact that I didn’t break something, hurt someone else, or die, is very amazing. Praise Jesus.

I showed up to the first game barely understanding how to throw a Frisbee and having zero idea of what the rules of the game were. I hadn’t eaten because it’s right after work and how long could a simple game of throwing a Frisbee back and forth take?

Answer: Two hours. It can take two hours. And thinking it was simple was dumb.

I finished that game more tired, hungry and sore than I’ve been in years. In fact, my poor friend Ellie (the amazing, wonderful, kind soul who lovingly agreed to play with me so I wouldn’t be alone) described her hunger as wanting to eat an Elephant. And then a bag of potato chips. And that’s exactly what it felt like.

This was what we looked like after the first game. Unfortunately, we look less phased then I think we were trying to convey.

This was what we looked like after the first game. Unfortunately, we look less phased then I think we were trying to convey. You can exhaust us, but you can’t take our cheerful away.

As the season went on, I started to figure out the rules, the general idea of how to play and I got to know my amazing and incredible team. Honestly, they are probably the reason I kept going back. Well, that and I wanted to run more.

Bwahaha. That’s a lie. Obviously. Carrying on…

By the end of the season I was bidding for discs and looked just like this:

Okay, but for serious, people dive to catch the disc. It's called bidding. Yeah, I know that now.

Okay, but for serious, people dive to catch the disc. It’s called bidding. Yeah, I know that now.

Okay, okay, you’re right, I didn’t look like that. I’m committed to my team… but I’m also committed to not dying on the field. So I honestly looked more like this:

He he he.

He he he.

But I had fun. I loved cheering the team on, loved the excuse to be outdoors for a couple hours a week and loved getting to see The Boy do something he loved so much. And let’s be honest,  this is much less terrifying then watching him rock climb or attempting to ski next to him. #adventurousboyfriendprobs 

Plus, I got my first Frisbee.

Oh and that blob of yellow in the back? Yeah, that's my jersey. Because wearing tight bright yellow is all the rage these days guys.

Oh and that blob of yellow in the back? Yeah, that’s my jersey. Because wearing tight bright yellow is all the rage these days guys.

Which we used in the tournament this weekend.

Wait, did you say tournament?

Why yes, yes I did.

As if one Frisbee game a day isn’t enough, after the season ends, they pair all the teams together and then you fight til death play for hours for fun against a whole bunch of teams. We lost. We won. We lost again. In my head, we’d play a game, take a break, eat some lunch, maybe play another game.

But no, these people are hard core, I should have known better. We played three games of Frisbee in a row. No stopping. Luckily Sadly, I missed the first game, so I only played two in a row… and that was about the perfect amount of fun for this girl.

And in the process of hanging out and running around outside, I burnt my skin to a crisp. You should be so lucky to see the tan line I’ve got going on my calves. It’s hot. Literally, still hot to the touch. Poor calves.

Also in the process? I won the Spirit Award for my team for the season. Which means that I may not have known one thing about playing Frisbee, but darn it I was NICE to people. And encouraging. And loud.

This should surprise none of you. The loud part especially.

And you want to know the crazy thing? When Wednesday rolls around this week, I’m going to miss it. I’m going to miss the people. The laughs. Watching the games. The outdoors.

Maybe I’ll try to talk The Boy into a date night throwing a Frisbee around in a park. Just to relive my glory days on the field.

Plus, if I’m going to play again next year, I’ve only got a year to fully learn the rest of what ‘zone defense’ actually is, why you stop movement on the field if there’s a foul, and what you’re actually supposed to be doing when you’re on offense.

Turns out, venturing out of your comfort zone sometimes is pretty darn awesome.

Try it. I dare you.

Easy as (Chocolate) Pie

So here’s a quick story about how I just learned how to make the easiest dessert in the world.

Chocolate pie. Which should basically just be called “chocolate pudding in a store bought crust.” Because that is it.

These are all of the things you need. AND THAT IS IT PEOPLE.

These are all of the things you need. AND THAT IS IT PEOPLE.

Directions:

  1. Go to store.
  2. Hit the baking row for the 9″ graham cracker crust that you can buy THAT’S ALREADY MADE.
  3. Go to the row with pudding.
  4. Pick up the chocolate kind.
  5. READ THE BOX AND IT TELLS YOU THE REST.

Seriously, you mix a little milk in with your mixer (which, let’s talk about how that the best $5 I’ve ever spent), it gets a little thicker and then you pour it into a pie shell so it’s like this:

Why yes, yes it is hard to not just eat it out of the pie like a bowl, how'd you know?!

Why yes, yes it is hard to not just eat it out of the pie like a bowl, how’d you know?!

And then you set it in the fridge for an hour.

And then you top it with whipped cream when you serve it.

It’s genius. It’s so stinking easy.

Oh, and the best part? The best part is, when you’re done pouring it into the crust, you get to lick out the bowl…

Ahem… I mean, if you were probably five you’d do that. As a mature responsible adult, you’d probably skip the step where you immediately take off the mixer arm guys and lick those suckers clean. Cause that’d be embarrassing.

#winning

#winning

Embarrassing. And yet, so amazingly delish!!

 

And THAT’S how you make an awesome dessert with three ingredients. I think I’ve got a new backyard BBQ favorite!

I’d just like to go on record…

And say that for the first time in my life, I’m actually excited for a Batman movie.

How could you possibly be mad about this?

How could you possibly be mad about this?

So if your goal was to get a whole new crowd of people out to the movies, high five.

If you really wanted girlfriends everywhere to be excited to be invited to the latest high action flick with their boyfriends, mission accomplished.

Apparently (according to my very accurate source: Facebook) all the real Batman fans just aren’t that excited. And I feel bad for them. Really, I do.

But I’m pumped. I mean, come on guys, didn’t you see him in Pearl Harbor? How about Argo? Dogma? Or even He’s Just Not That Into You? He can act.

Let’s just forget about some of the bad decisions like Gigli. And maybe Jersey Girl. And for sure Bounce.

That lovely magical face is about to be our next Batman.

Ain’t nothing wrong with that.

Salt and, Salt and, Salt and Pepper Here

I broke down yesterday and I bought something a little more frivolous.

BUT, I’d really considered it for a couple of weeks. I researched the options. And I just really wanted the little bit nicer set.

How b-e-a-utiful are those little guys?

How b-e-a-utiful are those little guys?

 

Salt and pepper shakers.

Yes, it did make me break out into a small rap from ‘Push It.’ Thanks Salt-N-Pepa for that perfect reference.

Yes, shockingly, I didn’t already own any. I know, surprise surprise.

Yes, I was using my large Morton Salt container to salt things.

Classy. I know.

And after watching New Guy just grab his salt and pepper shakers and use them to spice something… I realized that’s a much more convenient way to season something. Plus, it looks a whole lot more grown up.

And then I turned to Pottery Barn to show me my salt and pepper shaker options. And then I found them. And then I fell in love. They were beautiful. They matched my dishes. They would look incredible and they were $12. Which, since I needed two (one for salt and one for pepper) would be a $24 commitment.

Which is slightly ridiculous.

But then after searching for a cheaper option (read: I ran to Walmart’s website) I realized that each shaker there is $8.

So…. $16 isn’t that far from $24… right?! And that extra $8 spent would bring a lifetime of joy.

I left it alone for a couple weeks… but I could not stop thinking about how beautiful those were.

And then I caved. I went to Pottery Barn I smelled the smell of happiness. I drank in the color scheme. And I told the lady behind the counter exactly what I wanted. No looking around for me necessary.

AND THEN IT HAPPENED.

She rang them up. And the total was $12 plus tax.

Because I am an idiot. And they price salt and pepper shakers as a set… because they are a set. In my head individual prices made sense. I buy each bowl separately at Pottery Barn. Wouldn’t that be how the shakers worked?

No Betsy. That’s not how it works. Because they aren’t the same thing. Turns out. They are different. Or you would never know which one was which!

And that’s the story of how: I caved and I bought something nicer than required, then saved $12, and discovered I’m an idiot.

The end.

(Or really… it’s just the beginning of a beautiful life with new salt and pepper shakers…)

Chicken Spectacular

I was genuinely shocked the other day when I witnessed someone cut a chicken breast into cubes, season it and then cook it in a skillet.

Hello. Hold up. Wait a minute. That’s a thing? And it’s that easy?

Well helllllllllllllllllllllllllooooooooooo new brilliant way to cook chicken. Where have you been hiding this last 8 months I’ve been learning to cook?!

Then, that diced chicken turned into a chicken casserole.

Again, genius.

And that chicken casserole wasn’t too shabby. Plus, it only used four ingredients. Which is just impressive really. High five new guy* making me dinner, way to win me over with your cooking skills.

But that recipe made me really crave the chicken casserole of my childhood aptly named Chicken Spectacular.

So, I shoot a text (how handy) to my brilliant step mom and nicely ask for the recipe.

Be glad I did ya’ll, because boy oh boy are you going to want to try this one. And yes, this is exactly how I got the recipe – I just love that people know me well enough to give me stupid simple directions.

  • 3 Cups Cut-up Cooked Chicken (A grocery store rotisserie chicken works as a nice short cut. Just make sure your chicken is seasoned as you like and use as much as you want. Proportion it with the rice, depending on how much you decide to use.)
  • 1 Can (16 oz) Kitchen Cut Green Beans (You can also use French Style Green Beans if you’d like) or Peas
  • 2 Cups Cooked Rice (I usually end up using more than this)
  • 1 Can (10 1/4 oz) Condensed Cream of Celery Soup (I use any condensed soup I have, like Cream of Mushroom works well)
  • 1/2 Cup Mayo (I use Miracle Whip and generous with it)
  • 1 Can (6-8 oz) Water Chestnuts, drained (they are more for texture than flavor I always thought. Keeps life interesting!)
  • 2 Tablespoons Chopped Pimento (I use a larger jar or two of the tiny jars, love the pimentos)
  • 2 Tablespoons finely chopped onion (It’s hit or miss whether I add this, your call)
So, the cutting of the chicken is a little gross. But with super sharp knives, it's no big deal at all!

So, the cutting of the chicken is a little gross. But with super sharp knives, it’s no big deal at all!

Mix ingredients together and pour into a 9X13 pan. I started putting some shredded cheese on top before baking (Chef’s choice, I find myself using shredded cheddar). If you want extra cheesy you could put some into your casserole as well. If it seems dry when you combine the ingredients before baking, you can add more creamed soup and mayo or if you’ve added cheese into the casserole that will help as well.
So close... and yet... still so long to bake...

So close… and yet… still so long to bake…

350 degrees for approximately 50 to 60 minutes. Just until heated through and cheese looks great on top.
Deeeeee - lish!

Deeeeee – lish!

A couple of notes:

  1. I would highly suggest NOT using a pan on a skillet and the oven on a very hot day if your house doesn’t have air conditioning.
  2. This stores well and makes INCREDIBLE leftovers.
  3. Cheese on top = genius.

The other lesson I had learned (from admiring new guys cooking) was that you could BOIL asparagus. I’d only ever grilled it before. I did a quick google search, saw that it takes a large skillet, a little salt in the inch of water and 5-7 minutes of uncovered time and tada! cooked asparagus.

Salt, water, asparagus. Season to taste. 5-7 minutes of sheer perfection!

Salt, water, asparagus. Season to taste. 5-7 minutes of sheer perfection!

Again, genius.

Not to mention, for this meal, I was able to break out my pineapple slicer. Which, shockingly, you just don’t use that often.

Tasty delightful perfectly sweet pineapple!

Tasty delightful perfectly sweet pineapple!

So yes, I own a pineapple slicer… and no hand mixer. My kitchen is a very confusing place…

Moving on.

It was a wonderful well rounded (very tasty) meal. Totally felt like a mini victory. I can now check “casseroles” off my list of items to learn.

Annnnnnnd since I’m feeling pretty proud of myself, I’m going to attempt pretty sugar cookies. You know, the kind with the nice looking frosting that look like they come from a store. To be fair, I’m cheating a little bit, I’ve got a baker friend coming to town and a new cookie cutter I’m dying to use… so there may or may not be a little extra guidance.

So keep your fingers that works out for me.

Oooooor just know, you’re pretty much guaranteed a funny blog post next week!

*Here’s the deal. This blog started off with the purpose of being a happy space to talk about cooking, cleaning, organizing, funny mishaps, finances, random adventures and the likes. It’s also a place where people that live far away can come to check on me and see what’s happening in my life. Which I adore. Thank you friends. But what I’m realizing is, sometimes my posts may include a little personal aside about my family, my friends and in this case my dating life. Because those are the people that surround me and make my stories. So yes, I’m seeing someone new. He’s already inspired me to attempt pan seared steak, boiled asparagus and chicken casserole. Plus, he quietly ate my over-spiced brussel sprouts. He is wonderful, I am happy and I just wanted to let you know.

You know those friends…

Image

The very best ones? The ones that always laugh at your jokes. They enjoy partaking with you in fun girly activities or just siting with you, lounging in comfortable silence. They know how to how to be classy – even at a dive bar and they know the exact right time and way to deliver compliments to you to touch your soul?! Really, these are the friends that just make your life better because they’re in it.

Well, those girls came to visit me this weekend. I laughed. Oh how I laughed. Hard, with gusto and a few really good snorts – the. entire. weekend. And throughout the whole thing, they just reminded me of how lucky I am to be blessed with some seriously rock star, fantastically wonderful, high achieving, amazingly talented friends.

We ate. We hiked. We ate. We dressed up. We ate. We shopped. We ate. We lounged. We ate.

And kids, we ate good.

Real good.

In an amazing geeky foodie way that I haven’t gotten to experience in a long time.

My goodness I love these friends.

I showed them around my new town. We saw the sites. They saw the new place. They loved on my pets. They were up for anything and everything.

And they brought me Runza.

RUNZA!!

And then they told my new friends all of the same things I’d been saying about my home state since I moved here:

  • Runza is great. If you don’t like it, we don’t understand you.
  • Nebraska IS a panhandle.
  • Chili and cinnamon rolls as a combination is legit.
  • People from a state should know geographically the border states and where they are positioned.
  • Elevation on a city sign is weird, it really should be population.
  • Measuring distance should only be noted in time… not miles, that means nothing to us.
  • Shopping is an art form.

Okay, that last one is maybe not a serious lesson, but it is true.

And these girls appreciate the beauty in that art form. 110%.

If you’re not catching on… long story short… I adore these girls.

And I already miss them like crazy.

And I love having visitors. And I blog about them. And I totally tour guide them around the entire city… You know… Just something to keep in mind…

So to my AMA ladies: I love you for visiting. I love you for listening. I love you for sacrificing time out of your crazy hectic schedules for our together time. I love you for being flexible and rolling with the punches. I love you for asking the hard questions. And I LOVE that you bring me so much joy.

And be ready for the “Girls on Rocks” 2014 calendar. It’s happening. And it’s going to be magical.

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HUGE LIFE ALTERING AMAZING NEWS

Okay, it’s not that life altering.

Or that amazing.

But I think it’s HUGE news.

Remember that one time I tried to torch my apartment down with the oil fire… if you don’t, clearly you haven’t been around me at a party lately and haven’t been reading my blog long enough. But it happened and in the process,  I destroyed the microwave.

So right after it happened, I called the apartment complex to let them know that I, totally by myself and of no one’s fault but my own, torched the microwave and asked about how to replace it.

Ironically, the maintenance men couldn’t come out that week… as they were busy conducting fire safety inspections (aka replacing batteries).

Yup. Awkward.

So finally last week, I re-called them. Scheduled a time I could take my dog out of the apartment (she doesn’t like strange men coming into her apartment – totally fair) and they could come and take a look.

So, K spent the day with me at work and when we got home – K immediately smelled that there had been strangers in the apartment and freaked out (man, I love that dog). And tada! there was a new microwave. And know, I use “new” lightly. It was used, covered in dust… and some sticky substance that I refuse to question… but a used microwave is probably cheaper than a real one right?! But, there was no invoice of any sort.

So I call the front desk and ask about if I could get an invoice for that – because I didn’t want it to come out of the deposit when we move out – since it’s no fault of my roommates.

And guess what kids.

THE NEW MICROWAVE WAS FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

No, I have no idea how that works. But the front desk lady was shocked that I would even question paying for it. “Why would you think you had to?!” she sweetly asks.

Um, because I killed it. Hard. Flames came out of it. It. Melted.

Point of the story?

  1. That part of the tax refund I set aside to go to paying to replace the microwave? Well, those dollar dollar bills are going into savings!
  2. It pays (no pun intended) to be nice to your land lady. Because you just never know when you’re going to need that microwave replaced.

 

MY FABULOUS FRIENDS

What a fabulous weekend. And yes, I really really did have that hair in college. Yikes.

What a fabulous weekend. And yes, I really really did have that hair in college. Yikes.

These girls. Are. So. Great.

These girls. Are. So. Great.

You know those friends of yours that are constant and wonderful?

A couple of weekends ago (on the blogging sabbatical) I was fortunate to visit a whole boat load of them.

Friends I’ve had since high school (and before!), friends I have because of Young Life, friends that I’ve had since college and some amazing friends I’ve made after that. All within a 3 day weekend. BAM!

It started with a friend picking me up from the airport. Tangent: I once heard someone say that’s a sign of true friendship. And I believe it. Plus, it’s a really great excuse to spend an hour on the drive back from the airport catching up. Then the crazy whirlwind weekend began with late night appetizers, getting to hear about great friends getting married and having babies, then sleeping at my parents house, breakfast with friends, half day board meetings… a coffee date catch-up with a dear friend.

Another breakfast (seriously – turns out – it’s a great way to capture people… and a great excuse to eat greasy breakfast!), a pedicure (thank God) and then a full two days of sorority wonderfulness.

My old roommate and I toured our old room, we saw the chandelier I randomly bought our beloved house and our group had lunch at our favorite spot. We went to meetings, we dressed up, I found a friend in a matching dress, we had drinks, I won an award and we spent the night laughing through old memories and making new ones.

I’m not telling you all of this because I need you to know that I really like breakfast (which, is so incredibly true as well), but I just had to throw this post out there to say that – my friends rock. So if you read this blog, it’s most likely because you’re my friend – and I’m just so stinking thankful for you. Moving towns and changing my life has made for a few strange months and so many people have been so incredibly supportive and I couldn’t feel more fortunate about that.

So thank you friends for an incredible weekend. Filled with laughter, hugs, smiles and amazing memories for years to come.