peals of laughter

While in Idaho, my Mom asked me to trim the back of her hair as it was getting too long for her to deal with. She just wanted me to cut it straight across. I (being no beautician) said I would do my best.

I mean, really, how hard could it be?

We went outside so as not to have little trimmings all over the bathroom. Gonna go ahead and relay our conversation as I proceeded to trim...

Me: "You know, Angela won't let me near the scissors after what I did to our barbie's hair back in the day."

Mom: (trying not to laugh) "You know, you probably shouldn't tell jokes while your cutting my hair." (She steps away from me so that I can't cut anything and starts laughing.

Me: (laughing so hard I can hardly stand up straight) "That wasn't a joke."

Peals of laughter from the both of us....

Man, I do love me a good chuckle. What a fun mom I have.

50 Shades of Green and a Peony

Went to visit my grand parents this weekend. In Idaho.

For a little afternoon adventure, we took a drive into the country. With all the rain they’ve been getting lately, it looked more like Ireland than it did the back roads of Idaho. And hey, I’m not complaining. As we passed the patchwork-esque fields, Grandma said, “It looks like there are 50 shades of green out there.” Sometimes, I’m so awe struck by the beauty of the earth….

I love visiting my grandparents. I have loved getting to know them now that I am all grown up and I feel like I can really appreciate them, the experiences they have lived, the stories they have told, and the legacies they will leave behind. Isn’t it inspiring to realize that one’s personality traits and interests can parallel that of one’s grandparents for so many aspects of life. Half the fun of getting to know them is realizing how much of myself I owe to them... For instance, my love of music, apple pie, and everything western. Not to mention the phenomenal sense of humor that both Grandma and Grandpa have… there are many times when we just sit and laugh.

My Grandpa has always loved music, in fact, he’s in a band. Oh yeah. There are times when I’m pretty sure that HE thinks he’s Johnny Cash, and to be honest, I aint gonna take that away from him. Who else gets to jam with their grandpa? I, on the violin, and grandpa on the guitar… singing his heart out to “Walk the Line”. And it’s not only country music that he loves, Grandpa digs western movies, fried corn, and his impressive collection of belt buckles. Never a dull moment.

Then there’s grandma. Both grandparents grew up without much luxury and still don’t even have a dishwasher. And Grandma is a pack rat. She loves to keep things and find other uses for them. Waste not, want not. That was how it was back then and it’s something she has always held onto, and to be honest, it’s something I adore about her. Packrat… that would be something that I’ve been accused of as well. In an effort to explain myself, I’ll just say that I hate to waste things if they can be used for something else. I love to make things with my hands, create things, learn things… there’s just too little time. Everything is destined for a finished product, but most of the time the project just doesn’t get done. In that way, Grandma and I are similar. Her love is sewing. And she’s darn good at it. (That’s the Idaho lingo comin out… you spend too many days up there and you too will start to sound like a native). She also loves to make things with her hands and usually has too many projects on the horizon than she can get too…

Then there’s the food. I’m a sucker for down home cookin. (It only seems appropriate to leave off the g). Potatoes fresh from the garden, fried corn, lima beans and ham, strawberry jam and the aforementioned apple pie. Great weekend. Enjoyed some good food, good company, and some great laughs… all the while catching the scent of one pretty pink peony as it graced the plastic vase on the dining table….

Peonies are my favorite.

battle of the bulge

Recently I’ve been figuring out just how much my metabolism is slowing down. I think we’ve all been there… And if you haven’t, get your seat belt on because your time is coming. That magical age where you start noticing if you don’t run a couple of miles for every cookie you want to eat, you’ll pay for it by muffin-topping (can that be a verb?) out of your pants.

It’s no secret… You get older and your metabolism slows down. And sometimes? It feels like it just goes ahead and stops altogether.

Total bummer. Gone are the days of the daily breakfast donuts. I have slowly tried to wrap my mind around the fact that I will have to work out for the rest of my life if I don’t want to buy a new wardrobe. And I’ll tell ya, it’s been a rough acquiescence. But I have found what works for me. My own little 30 day slim down. And when I’m on the 30 day slim down, I’m in the zone and I’m in it to win it. And that means no treats. The problem is, if I give myself an inch (and have some treats), I lose control and take 3 feet (and have LOTS of treats). I’m still trying to master portion control. Give me a break… sweets are my weakness…. It takes time to master these things.

But I’m not giving up. Even though sometimes I give in. And fall of the wagon, as it were. That happened a few weeks ago. Every week we have vendor meetings where we see new product. A great concept… and we end up seeing some amazing things. But the most amazing things we saw a couple of weeks ago were the donuts that one of the reps brought in.

I hate when they bring us treats.

Yes, I know, I love me a good donut. That’s the problem. Remember that time I was still trying to master that whole self control thing? Baby steps, people. And I did so well until about 12:30. Then the afternoon lull started to set in and those donuts were yelling at me from the box.

So I had 3. Yeah, I know. 3. Most people have a sweet sensor that kicks in after they’ve had 1 or 2. That same sweet sensor tells them that they will be sick if they eat any more (if they aren’t sick already).

See, now, I don’t have that.

It would seem that I have a stomach of iron and when it comes to sweets? I can definitely hold my own.

My mom told me that I need to get to the point where I can eat one donut and be ok. I told her that at no time in my life have I ever been ok with one donut. Then again, at no time in my life have I worried about my pants ever fitting this tight.

It’s time for change.

But recently I have been so enamored with baking. I have never been like this. Don’t even know where it came from, to be honest. There’s just something about creating a yummy dish and tasting it to see just how well it turned out….

The most recent recipe I had been wanting to try was my Aunt’s pan cookie delight. It had been years since I’d had it and I wanted to give it a go just to remember how yummy they were. So of course, when I got home (on donut Wednesday) I decided that since I was off the wagon, I may as well be really off the wagon and I whipped up a batch of pan cookies.

Yep, just as good as I remember.

And the dough was amazing. After I made them, I ate about 4 of the cookies. And then I stopped. (Even though I could have eaten that whole pan, I stopped.) I decided that eating the entire pan would be so not ok. So I dumped them into the garbage. Now, I know what’s in my garbage. On this particular night it was fairly clean (just some tortilla wrappers and things.) No nasty chicken or gross food… just some wrappers. And though I can’t recall a time when I have actually ever rescued a cookie from the trash and eaten it, the thought did cross my mind that I just MAY be tempted the next morning. (And I didn’t want to fill the cookie pan with water because that would have created a bigger mess). So I brought out the big guns.

I pulled out the bottle of 409 and sprayed the cookies in the trash.

There. Problem solved. Because now there was NO WAY I was going to even think about them after that.

Moral of the story? I’m thinkin I need a travel size bottle of 409…