So, as you might have heard, the world is supposed to end at some arbitrary 6:00 PM today. This will simply not do because right now my life is amazing. Of course, the likelihood that the world would come to a cataclysmic end once I finally reached an acceptable level of happy and good is high because if there's one thing I've learned from being alive the last 23.5 year it's that life LOVES to fuck with happiness. Anytime people on a TV show or in a movie are happy and enjoying their existence, you just know there's a creepster with a chainsaw lurking behind the sunshine and flowers ready to fuck their shit up. It's just how the universe balances out.
But, I figure that I should at least be allowed a few years' worth of this happy rainbow existence before it's all sucked away. Is that really too much to ask? So, to whatever being is looking down upon us ready to push the "end all" button, I present some reasons why that's a terrible idea that he/she/it should feel terrible about.
I just became an adult. Okay, so technically I've been an "adult" now for 5 years but up until the last month or so I was still more or less dependent on other people for things. As of Monday morning, I will be a permanent, full-time, salaried employee at the company I've been temping with for the past 9 months. I have a career, so to speak, a gorgeous apartment in a funky cool neighborhood, I pay all of my bills (even my phone now -- huzzah!) and I'm slated to get married in just a little over 2 years. I'm a friggin' grown up! I've spent most of my existence as a kid needing to depend on others, and it's about time I get to make life mine.
Lady Gaga's new album isn't out yet. Sure, to some she might be all the evidence necessary to point to the world's imminent doom, but I am a proud Little Monster and refuse to go out without hearing every single second of Born This Way. Come on, can you get any more amazing? I'm guessing possibly yes, which is why the world can't end until after at least May 25 to give me time to rock out and memorize every single track (starting with Judas which is just incredible).
My tomatoes aren't even purchased, let alone in the ground and growing.The best part about our new apartment/neighborhood is the community garden that sits literally next door to our lovely little carriage house. I am super pumped to grow things and eat the fruits of my labor which won't happen if the world ends. And how cute is Terrell standing in our new plot?
Summer has finally reached Syracuse. Today started off slightly humid, but had brightened to sunny and gorgeous by late morning. We spend six-eight months out of the year enduring the cold, the snow, the wind and the rain (not to mention all the grey... so. much. grey!) so when summer/spring decides to show up we DESERVE our fair share with it. End the world during the second straight week of snow and bitter cold, sure, but now when things are beautiful? What a jerk.
Look - green, everywhere! What a sight.
OMG, a color that isn't white or grey.
So, what I'm basically saying is this: the world won't end because it's too wonderful right now and I'm sure we've all got far too many awesome things to look forward to.
What are you looking forward to doing after today ends?Read more...
Hi, my name is Jocelyn and I am a nail biter. I don't remember when I started biting my nails, but it's possible I began around the time I learned how to chew. I've never known a me without ragged, too-short fingernails and learned to accept it as a fact of life. Here and there, I've attempted to paint my nails or grow them long or even give up on my natural nails altogether and cover them with acrylics. But for the past few years, I've been in a state of "I don't give a hoot" when it comes to my nails.
That is until I got engaged and realized I'd be taking pictures of my hands and showing my left hand to people on and off for the next couple of years. That kind of thing makes a girl self-conscious, especially when it's a problem you've recognized/ignored for a lifetime. I've long admired girls with nice, shapely long nails painted in a rainbow of chic colors. I'd love to accessorize my nails to my outfits and plain feel good about my hands. My hands have always made me a bit self-conscious, nails withstanding, because they're small yet pudgy and look a bit like a child's despite being the hands of a 23-year-old woman. I'm kinda freaked about how weird our hands will look next to each other when Terrell and I get the standard ring photos taken and that people will think he married a little person or something... silly, yes, but fears are fears.
I realized that the only thing stopping me from ending this habit was lack of initiative... like with so many other problem areas in my life. So as I browsed around the grocery store this afternoon, I turned down the cosmetics aisle and picked up a few new supplies:
A fellow forum member at Wedding Bee suggested Sally Hansen, so I did as I was told and picked up a bottle of Maximum Growth, which is intended to reinforce my nails and protect them against splitting and peeling. Another gal suggested I paint my nails something dark enough to cover up the white part so I'm not tempted to bite. Strange as it sounds, that is an extremely helpful piece of advice: it is almost irresistible not to chew off my nail when the white end grows out. I don't understand why, but it's true though I hadn't put much thought into it before today. I picked out a nice pink shade and added a bottle of Vitamin E-enriched polish remover then headed to check out.
After putting the groceries away, I took everything out to the porch and sat in the remaining daylight to attend to my poor, underloved nails. Seriously, this is what I have to work with:
Pathetic, I know.
I fixed my cuticles as best I could without a buffer or any of that other fancy stuff that several E-How articles have instructed me to buy, then applied a coat of the growth formula. Oooh, shiny. So far so good. Painting with the polish was a lesson in why I haven't painted my nails more than 5-6 times over the course of my life: I suck. True, I'm better than I probably would've been a few years ago thanks to the relative steadiness mascara application has given my right hand, but the results of today's efforts are still closer to what I'd imagine a kindergartener would produce than a girl my age.
But for a first effort, it's not so bad. I'm going to take the polish off tomorrow and stick to the clear growth formula for a couple of weeks until my nails grow out some more. As you can see, some of them are frighteningly short right now due to recent biting binges. Hopefully I'll be able to keep from gnawing... o_o
My goal is to eventually get them to a point where I can go get a nice professional manicure done, then keep up on them from there. I'll possibly get acrylics put on for our engagement photos in June, though it might be possible to simply get the professional mani done before that - if I'm good!
Are you a member (or alumnus) of Nail Biters Anonymous? What tips and tricks can you offer to stop biting and start growing?
Read more...
I've been engaged for over a month now, but didn't have a ring until this week - which has been a tad difficult to explain to some people. In all of my girlhood fantasies about getting married (you know you had them, too) I never put much thought--if any--on the ring. Perhaps it's because I'm not a big fan of rings to begin with, or maybe because in almost every TV show/movie with engaged/married characters the ring is usually a diamond solitaire or some other gigantic rock. And hey, plenty of women are just fine with that, and I really can't lambaste the choices of others too much when I rock my own set of traditions. Nothing is wrong with going for classic or traditional, but I think that too many women (and their men) get duped by the wedding industry and current societal norms into choosing a diamond when they could be happier with something else.
Diamonds are the classic, traditional choice and from my limited time spent on wedding planning message boards of late, most women damn near demand them -- but why exactly is that? Evolutionary psychologist Satoshi Kanazawa has an interesting take on it:
Diamonds make excellent courtship gifts from this perspective because they are simultaneously very expensive and lack intrinsic value. No man (or woman) can be inherently interested in diamonds; you cannot drive them, you cannot live in them, you cannot do anything with them. Any man who would buy diamonds for a woman must be interested in making an investment in her. Flowers, another favored gift for women, are also relatively expensive and lack intrinsic value. Of course, diamonds and flowers are beautiful, but they are beautiful precisely because they are expensive and lack intrinsic value, which is why it is mostly women who think flowers and diamonds are beautiful. Their beauty lies in their inherent uselessness; this is why Volvos and potatoes are not beautiful. (source)
Whether or not this is entirely true (I'm guessing a bit heaping YES is in order), my relationship has never been about things. We haven't done a whole lot of gift exchanges and when we do, it's not a big emphasis. I put more into the cards I get or make Terrell every year than gifts, and he's just as low-key when picking things out for me. I don't need him to buy me things to show me he'd be a good provider because I already know this through his actions (and besides, I can provide very well for myself, thank you very much). I also object ethically to diamonds because they are a product of misery - hello, Blood Diamond?
For me, the idea of having a diamond ring goes beyond my personal and ethical objections. It just isn't me. Before I got engaged, I wanted a claddagh ring. I won't lie that the main inspiration for this comes from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but I also love the symbolism behind claddagh rings and thought that would be a really interesting and fun way to express what the ring meant. But after actually becoming engaged, I realized that the claddagh ring has no real significance for me when it comes to heritage. Terrell's last name is Irish, but he's not and neither am I, really (I may have a tiny bit of Irish in my DNA but not enough to matter - kinda like those people who claim they're 1/84th Native American and think it actually means something).
So I began to look for something to suit my tastes and preferences, and that's when I stumbled upon the beauty that is pearl rings. I love pearls and find they suit my skintone far better than most gemstones, so why not go for one as an engagement ring? If I'm gonna wear the thing for a few years/my entire life, it might as well be something that I really want to have on me. We started looking quite literally the day after we got engaged because we were at the mall and I'd been waiting for that moment when I could realistically look at the pretties for YEARS and gosh darnit, he was gonna let me. *ahem*
The diamonds that the over-zealous salesman at Kay's shoved onto my finger summed up my previous notions that it just wasn't my style. They were so pushy that we declined to return once we had decided to look for pearls, and instead we made visits to a whole slew of other stores. At first, it was about finding a ring that could serve as a placeholder for a "better" ring in the future, but I realized that was silly. I'd rather have the ring we choose not be The Ring because it's special and meaningful. And I really think better money could be spent on a vacation or a really awesome pasta maker in the future than yet another piece of symbolic jewelry.
So we shopped around and eventually settled on this little beauty from Zales:
The pearl is small but beautiful and the flanking stones are lab-created sapphires. This suited my ethical and personal tastes and the price was outstandingly cheap because the ring is a part of their birthstone collection vs. engagement rings. So, that was it and we were all ready to plunk the money down online and order it (because the one in the store was at least $40 more... damn commissions).
And then... I found it. I work in downtown Syracuse close to a nice little shopping and restaurant district called Armory Square (named so because of the super awesome armory-turned-science museum that sits in the heart of it all). Most of my lunch hours find me wandering down there for a cup of coffee or just a nice place to walk around and stretch my legs. Tucked into a space down a bricked alleyway between two buildings is a little shop I like to visit cleverly named Way Off The Beaten Path. For some reason, it didn't occur to me that I might find something there, but I remembered suddenly a couple of weeks ago and hastened myself there as soon as my break began. After browsing through one counter and trying on a few choices, I was led by the saleswoman to the counter at the shop's entrance and she introduced me to what I will now and forever affectionately call my Moon Ring:
The center stone is a pearl and the accent is a diamond. The silver band has been hand-etched and it's all cool and texturey. It's a lot bigger than anything I was originally looking for, but I love how it looks and would never trade. After talking it over for a week or so, Terrell met me downtown on Monday and we bought the ring. I gave it to him after the purchase was complete and told him he could give it back to me when and how he chose. We had a very wonderful, heartfelt moment together on Wednesday and that's when he slipped it onto my finger. Low-key, yes - but a moment to remember for the rest of my life.
Pearls are soft and very susceptible to damage, so I'm going to have to be really careful with this baby but so far things have gone well. If you're thinking of a pearl engagement/wedding ring yourself, go for it! But remember that they aren't meant for true day-to-day wear so you have to be prepared to either replace the pearl eventually or do what I plan on and retire the E-ring after the wedding.
We've decided that we would like to get custom wedding bands made that compliment one another to exchange during the ceremony. Like I said at the beginning of this post, I'm not big on rings so wearing two at once really isn't my cup of tea. I will gladly wear just the one band continuously on my left hand and switch to wearing my moon ring on the right when it suits me. Until that time comes, I will be blinging around with my awesome ring and remembering what it symbolizes each time I look down. /mushiness
Read more...
Cheez-its are delicious, but they aren't dinner. Even though I seem to think so. Neither is ice cream, half a chocolate Easter bunny (the head, natch) or trail mix. Snacks, Jocelyn, do not = dinner. Sure, my calories more or less equal out but it's obvs far better to have veggies and chicken over junk. (And no, for the record, I did not eat all of the above in one sitting - that I can at least be honest about haha.)
I must get over my anti-cooking attitude before it destroys me. As soon as this moving adventure is complete, I vow to make one new recipe a week and post about it in this blog.
Breakfast and lunch are easy. I love lunch, it's my best meal of the day and I plan it out so nicely. But dinner just doesn't happen unless Terrell is involved or I order out, which is bad for my wallet and my diet. Plarg.
When it comes to weather, Syracuse, NY is known for its massive yearly snow accumulation. Each year, we compete (and usually cream everyone else) for a Golden Snowball award trophy and news crews trot out a few times between the months of November/December through... well, May, some years to film pieces on our incredible, edible (jaykay--unless you want to grow a third arm from all the Onondaga Lake pollution) snow. This winter was no different, and in fact not only did we win this year's trophy by a landslide (179.0" to Rochester's 127.0") but 97 consecutive hours of snow back in December brought a staggering 44.3" of that total dropping down on us. It was a long, cold, snowy winter here in the 'Cuse -- and while I didn't outright hate it, I was SO beyond ready when spring weather came knocking.
Only so much of this a girl can take!
And it's here! Finally! Shining sun, warm breeze, the chance to wear cute sandals and sip iced coffee while reading outside on my lunch hour... I've salivated over such things since mid-February, and now the time has arrived only to bring with it massive amounts of rain. The saying goes that April showers bring May flowers, and I do hope so but it's going to be awfully difficult for those flowers to grow if the ground is too wet to plant them in the first place. This has been one of the rainiest Aprils that Syracuse has seen, and after today I can't imagine it's going to get any less wet.
The day began with a damp, foggy morning which blossomed into a muggy, sunshiny afternoon. As 3:00 neared, clouds began to roll in, dark and thick and the air felt heavy with the promise of a storm. Not going to lie, I was super excited! Thunderstorms were an integral part of the spring and summer months for me growing up in central Ohio, and I sometimes miss the spine-tingling beauty they bring. Syracuse gets thunderstorms, of course, but not nearly as many and, during my 5 years as a resident, not quite as intense. I don't miss daily tornado warnings, but I do love a good storm. Which is why I was like a kid the night before Christmas as the clouds came in and the sky grew darker. And man, oh man, we were in for something wild.
Scary.
The "view" out the window during the height of the storm.
Through the howling wind, driving rain and curious whirling of the clouds (my suspicions on funnel activity were confirmed by reports following the storm.. I moved here to get away from that stuff, damnit!) it was the hail that truly stole the show. I've seen hail before, but never like this:
Wild. Just wild. And thus begins spring in Syracuse... it's gonna be fun.
Read more...
I've come to realize over the past year that I am the kind of person who needs goals and deadlines. I did very well in school, but never as well as those projects and papers where I was up until the crack of dawn, eating coffee beans whole and working like a madwoman to finish in time. Even when I set aside time to work on assignments gradually so I wouldn't have to pull an insane all-nighter I would inevitably find myself staring at blank pages or rearranging my farm on Farmville rather than do the work. Somehow, I always managed to come up with something brilliant at the last minute. Those quiet, desperate hours produced some of the finest work I've ever done, though how is a complete mystery.
And this translates to everything else in my life as well. I am notorious for putting off simple, basic household chores until the dishes are piled to the ceiling or the cat has been lost under a turbulent sea of dirty and clean clothes tossed haphazardly together. Only when I know someone will be coming over and the risk of my mess becoming public knowledge is imminent do I spring into action and clean the shit out of every single room and surface. It usually lasts a week or so before the disaster area creeps back in. Under a deadline, with a goal in front of me I am golden. At work, I find myself scrambling to produce at least twice my projected daily and weekly goals. Which isn't a bad thing, of course, but it does amuse my less anal coworkers.
I wish I could figure out a way to harness that manic productivity I am imbued with during special occasions and use it in small doses every day. I'm trying -- I've consistently done one load of dishes every day since Saturday, and the pileup has shrunk significantly. Must convince my Zumba'd-out self to tackle a load tonight, though, or I'll be back where I started by tomorrow. I'm also trying to think of ways to minimize the number of dishes (and clothes and things) we have, period, so there isn't as much room for the disaster to manifest. Moving will help, but I'm struggling with that as well because the deadline is technically May 31st... a LONG time away from now, and I can't get myself motivated to work on something that I've got more than a month to complete.
But we got boxes from Liquor City over the weekend, and I am determined to move at least some clothes and dishes to the new apartment by this weekend. If the weather can make up its mind whether it wants to be cold or finally warm up, that is...
My relationship is anything but traditional. We're generally laid back and just don't do the whole romance thing very well. Don't get me wrong - Terrell and I have our sweet moments, but they're usually within the context of our weirdness (hence the existence of sickening pet names for one another which I will not be repeating on the Internet). So, I suppose it makes perfect sense that we would approach marriage from a totally nontraditional standpoint.
Four weeks ago, my mom and brothers came for a visit. Time with my family is always chaotic, but having Terrell around helped calm the waters for all of us. Halfway into the evening, as Terrell was making dinner in the kitchen and I looked at him and just knew. When we were alone in the back of the apartment, I asked him if he'd marry me and he said yes. Because I had been just a smidge on the tipsy side from too much red wine the night before, I double-checked his answer in the morning and it was still the same. And that's about it.
Of course having a more "romantic" story to tell might be nice, but I like the simplicity of two people realizing that they want to build a life together and committing to it together without needing to make some symbolic gesture. I never wanted a surprise proposal, and we've been talking marriage and getting engaged since July, so why not go for it myself? Waiting around for him to make up his mind and tell me seems silly. If we're both ready, then we're ready and it shouldn't matter who pops the question. Plus, it took the pressure off of him to try and figure out what kind of ring I'd like and plan something that I would have inevitably ruined on accident (because I'm really, really good at that!). A number of websites have informed me that I have totally emasculated him, crushed his manhood, and even insinuated that now he is "65% man while I am 110% desperate and needy"... but I think--no, I know--that's bullshit.
So now I am engaged. Which still feels rather weird. We didn't tell anyone for a week, then told our moms. Mine was ecstatic, of course, but his needed some time to get used to the idea which makes sense when you factor in that I am the eldest of my family where he is the baby. My family is happy to be marrying me off because mine will be the first, but I think Terrell's family still sees him as a child much of the time (and he sort of is :D). Another week went by and we finally told the rest of our families and made it "Facebook official" (dear god, this is the way our society works now, isn't it?) which was kind of weird for me but the reactions were pleasant and enthusiastic.
I suppose it feels weird mostly because I never saw myself getting married until my thirties, if ever at all. Also, I don't have a ring. People keep asking to see the ring when they find out, and all I can do is shrug. It's not that there won't be a ring - we've picked one out and plan on getting it once we can reasonably afford the expense. Truth be told, just like I'm not one for big, showy gestures, I'm not big on the idea of a ring. I detest diamonds and everything they stand for - plus, I find most engagement rings to be hideous and/or boring. Rows upon rows of diamond rings just look so sad and lookalike. It's just not my thing. The ring I've chosen features a pearl as the center stone with two small lab-created white sapphires, and it's absolutely perfect. Inexpensive, beautiful and something I will enjoy wearing for the next two-three years. And isn't that what it's all about?
So now, I plan. Sort of. We're not getting married anytime soon because frankly neither of us has the money to do so and even if we did, too much is up in the air right now for that kind of event to occur. He's about to graduate from college next month and we honestly don't know what job(s) he may find around here, if any at all. It's going to be scary and unsettling for a while, but I know we can handle it. This blog is supposed to be about me, so wedding stuff is probably going to become a major focal point, so get used to it :)
So if you wanna be with me
With these things there's no telling
We'll just have to wait and see
But I'd rather be working for a paycheck
Than waiting to win the lottery
I'm flabbergasted... I mean, yeah, I figured maybe $30-40 was likely for a decent one. But $50-60+? You have got to be shitting me. Who the hell has $200 to plunk down for a piece of wood with little knobbies to hang coats on? And who the hell would actually be willing to admit they paid $200 for said glorified piece of wood? *boggle*
Anyway...
I've been rather absent, yes, but fear not: I haven't abandoned this blog or any of my goals. Still plugging away at that whole weight loss/exercise/healthy living thing, and doing pretty well. I had Death Flu™ for about a week and a half, which killed my eating/workout regemin, but helped me lose 7 lb. in 5 days hahaha. I gained a good portion back, but I am quite pleased to say that 285 is a number firmly in the past. I was 281 this week, so woot! My goal next week is to be 279 and say bye-bye to the 280's forever.
Besides Death Flu™, I've been spending my non-blogging time apartment hunting - with much success! Although I honestly do love where we've been for the past 3/4-year, I am kinda sick of living in run-down, older places. And I am *really* sick of living in apartment buildings, tbh. Despite that, I was looking predominantly at residential communities and complexes because I figured that was where I'd have the best luck finding something I could afford solo. Terrell has to finish up some credits after graduation, which leaves his job prospects rather vague and uncertain. Hard to apply for a job when you can't give a definite date of availability, or even narrow one down to within a couple of weeks. And so I've had to keep in mind what I can afford on my *ahem* less-than-stellar office minion salary.
So imagine my utter delight when I stumble upon a listing for a charming carriage house apartment and, upon contacting the proprietor, discover it is within my budget and located in one of the coolest neighborhoods of Syracuse. The apartment is the bottom of the carriage house behind an 1800's mansion that used to be home to the mayor of Syracuse ages and ages ago and has been restored beautifully and historically due to being registered as a historical building. The carriage house itself has been completely modernized inside to become a sweet little apartment with a galley kitchen, living room, bathroom and bedroom (which is located where the horse stall was years and years ago). Oh, my... it's gorgeous and pretty much exactly what I've always dreamed of. I love, love, love old homes and the neighborhood is full of painted lady Victorians and rambling mansions, not to mention a vegan bakery and cafe, a book shop, a tapas bar and a community garden that I will allegedly get a plot of to plant my own veggies and whatnot. One word: perfection. And after the landlady receives the signed lease and security deposit I mailed her on Monday, it's mine!
The lease for that place starts April 1, while my current apartment's lease doesn't end until May - fantastic, because the carriage house is a bit smaller than here, and I am at an awkward crossroads in my life where I have accumulated far more things than a person should need or want. I've been a cluttered, disorganized mess pretty much my entire life due to packrat tendencies and not growing up in an environment that emphasized order -- but no more. When I move, I will take only 25-50% of what I currently own, and nothing more. A friend passed on the helpful website http://unclutterer.com/, which I've already gotten a dozen ideas from and I'm going to try from now until the end of May to tackle one chunk of stuff each week until I've managed it all. Starting with papers this weekend (breakin' out the scanner, oh yeahhh) and moving on to the plethora of boxes we actually never unpacked (sad, I know).
This is already shaping up to be one of the most productive, self-improving years I've ever had and we're just a little over two months in -- I can't wait to see what else I can get done in the next ten months :)
So, I chickened out of weighing myself yesterday because I was afraid that after a week of crappy eating and almost no working out it would be back up to where it was. Monday and yesterday were really good - I ate right, tried a new recipe (cilantro chicken burgers, which I'll be posting about tonight or tomorrow) and worked my bum off in zumba last night. Holy crap, that was an intense class. I'm sore this morning, which I knew would happen but it's kind of a nice feeling, like hey, I did something good!
Anyway, I stepped on the scale a few minutes ago and was pleasantly surprised to see 284.5. Not a lot, no, but it feels like a lot. I've been bouncing back and forth between the same damn numbers for 3 weeks despite all of my efforts, but not this week. And I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that 285 is a number I never see again, at least on the scale. Wheeeeee!
I just made the first payments on two of my loans, $221 total. $221 of my precious dollars = a whopping 0.0043% of my loans paid off. And I'll have to make another payment at the end of this week to a third lender.
Can I go home now?
At the very least, I can consider myself fortunate to have convinced the fourth (and most formidable) lender to give me another 12 months of forbearance, but when you consider all of the interest that is going to accrue during that year it's really not as great as it sounds. *sigh* I am fortunate to have a college degree, but find myself wishing sincerely that it wasn't so expensive to get.
Also, I have a bit of a spending problem. I made a valiant attempt in August to create a budget and balance it, but then sort of stopped - the way I do with a lot of things (weight loss efforts, I'm lookin' at you). It was stupid to do because six months later, I realize that I've been completely and utterly OUT. OF. CONTROL. the past half year. I've saved absolutely nothing and bled myself dry financially numerous times. Aka, doing everything I swore to myself I would not do when I reached adulthood and maturity and all that other grown-up shit.
But, here I am, with practically nothing to show for six months of solid work. Except some nice clothes, great makeup, pretty jewelry, several awesome movies watched and a ton of food (good and not so good) consumed. But I can't live like that if I want to do practical things like, I dunno, save for impending disasters? I have enough clothes. I have enough jewelry. And god knows I need to stop spending money eating out or grabbing high-calorie coffee beverages. But it's so difficult to factor in the big picture when I'm on my lunch break in the middle of the week and it's cold and I have nowhere to go except this nice, invitingly warm coffee shop where everything smells so good...
Blah. I'm not necessarily terrible with money, I can save when I need to. But I have the same problems with money as I do with food - incapability to say no to my impulses. I know in the back of my head that getting chicken strips after I've had a coffee and Wendy's at the mall is not a good idea, especially when I haven't worked out in 4 days due to a combination of familial invasion and a touch-and-go immune system, but I ate them anyway. Because I wanted to. And the same thing goes for spending money - I know I don't need another pair of pearl earrings or two new books when I've got a thousand at home unread, but I wanted them.
It's time to grow up and separate need from want. If I can't learn to control my impulses and say no to my spoiled inner child, I will always be broke and unhealthy.
I am going to start off fresh with this new month, February. I've had a good time in January implementing workouts and healthy eating into my diet, but it hasn't been enough. It's time to fully commit, 100%, no holding back. And budgeting must go along with it, because can you guess what my most out-of-control spending went toward this past month? Food. Most of it on-the-go crap from places I know won't provide the nutrients and fulfillment I need each day. Just crap, crap, crap. And that simply won't do :)
I'm afraid tomorrow's scale reading won't be a good one, but I'm not going to freak out or get upset. I'm just going to get back on the horse, like I did last week and prevail.
PS: See The King's Speech if you get a chance - it's marvelous!
I came home yesterday utterly defeated, feeling like a complete failure and wrote an incredibly long and angsty post. I was prepared to hit publish, when I got distracted by the soup I've been wanting to cook for the past week and forgot all about it. The angst post will probably be revamped into something less rambly for the future, but this post will be about the wonderful soup that prevented me from whinging all over the blogosphere last night.
One of my unwritten "new year's resolutions" is to try a new food or recipe every week. Last week's unofficial food was radishes, which I've never eaten before but found to be delightful after a couple sneaked into my salad. I will likely come back to radishes in the future, once I locate a couple of recipes to try with them. Anyhow, as I mentioned in my previous entry, I am getting back on the horse when it comes to cooking and this soup was another push in the right direction. When I saw the recipe highlighted on the WW recipe section, I knew it was meant to be: I love corn, I love tomatoes, I love soup. Heaven.
South African Corn and Tomato Soup
1 Tbsp unsalted butter
1 cup(s) onion(s), chopped
2 tsp kosher salt, divided
2 large tomato(es), beefsteak, ripe, cored, coarsely chopped
3 cup(s) frozen corn kernels, or fresh corn kernels from 4 cobs
14 3/4 oz canned cream-style white corn
12 oz fat-free evaporated milk
3 cup(s) canned chicken broth
1/2 cup(s) basil, fresh
Step-by-Step Instructions (Thanks, Allison, for reminding me!)
In a large saucepan over medium-low heat, melt the butter. Add the onions and 1 teaspoon salt; cook, stirring frequently, until the onions are extremely soft (about 8-10 minutes)
Stir in the tomatoes (and any other veggies); cook for 5 minutes more*
Add both types of corn, milk, broth, remaining teaspoon salt and pepper; simmer for 15 minutes so the flavors can combine
Separate into 1-1/4 cup servings and top each with about 1 tablespoon basil
*Note: If you're gonna use veggies that take longer to cook, add them earlier than the tomatoes to accommodate
The ingredients are all pretty easy to find, though I couldn't for the life of me locate cream-style white corn - so I settled for cream-style sweet corn. That mixed with frozen sweet corn made the soup a bit on the sweet side, so if you want more savory go with a non-sweet frozen brand. The best thing about soups is how adaptable they are, and looking at this recipe I thought it needed a little extra oompf, so I added:
1 tsp chipotle chili powder
1 tsp dried sweet basil
1 cup white mushrooms, broken up
Very little prep is required, which is a bonus if you're in a crunch for time. I sliced off my tablespoon of butter from the stick then put it back in the fridge until I was ready, then set to chopping the tomatoes. I'm pretty terrible at chopping/slicing/etc., so this was a fairly brutal massacre that I'm thankful nobody but the cat witnessed. I think our knives need to be sharpened, which probably factored into why I had so much trouble. But, I succeeded and soon had a bowl-o-tomato bits to do with as I pleased.
Mmm, slaughtered. Just the way I like 'em.
Now, if you're not a filthy cheater like me and don't buy a bag of pre-chopped onions from the Wegmans fresh foods section, you'll also have to chop up 1 cup of onions. I'm guessing that'd be about half an onion's worth, but I'm not really sure so... do half and then see where you're at? After that, all that's really left is making cute little ribbons out of the basil.
It sounds potentially difficult and time-consuming, but really isn't! I watched a little demo video on WW, but you get the benefit of my instructions - with a handy chart!
(Why, yes, I will take any flimsy excuse possible to mess around in photoshop.)
Stack about 10 basil leaves on top of one another. Since this'll be used mainly for edible decoration, it's up to you how much basil you want to use. I only used about 7 leaves because I was the only one going to be eating. You can get basil leaves prepackaged, I believe, but we just buy a basil plant and keep it healthy as long as possible - it's really cheaper that way.
Roll the stack tightly. Kinda like you would a blunt, I jokingly told my coworker this morning. (I'm being quite honest when I say I wouldn't know from experience.)
Hold the roll tightly with one hand and use your knife to slice crosswise. Pretty much like you would slice a baguette. I suggest starting at the end where the stems are so you can cut them off first.
Loosen the ribbons with your fingers. Ta-da! That was super easy, wasn't it? And look, how pretty they are :)
So, once you've finished the aforementioned prep and have your measurements ready, you'll want to stick a (large) medium-sized saucepan on the stove and turn the heat on medium-low. Definitely err towards a larger pan, btw - I chose the second largest we had and just barely had room for everything. You might want to just go for a pot and save yourself the worry. Let that heat up for a touch, then toss your 1 tablespoon of butter in and melt it.
Once the butter is melted, toss in your cup of chopped onions and 1 teaspoon of kosher salt. Mix everything together and cook until the onions soften. The recipe suggests 10 minutes, but mine were definitely soft by about 8, so just keep an eye on them.When the onions are softened, add your tomatoes and cook for another 5 minutes or so. If you've got other vegetables to add, depending on what they are you can decide when to throw them in during this process. Since mushrooms don't need a lot of cooking time, I threw them in about 3 minutes after the tomatoes.
When your veggies are done, combine the remaining ingredients except for the basil ribbons and mix it all together. I suppose it doesn't really matter on the order, but I did both corn types first, then the milk, chicken stock and finished with the remaining 1 tsp kosher salt and spices. If you're going to add your own spices, I highly suggest spooning some of the broth into a cup and testing on that first. I was pretty sure the chili powder would go over well because we cook with it a lot, but it's easy to screw something up by adding a weird spice (I speak from unfortunate experience).
I meant to take another picture, but forgot. I promise I stirred this mess.
Once you've got everything in, let that simmer for about 15 minutes (you might need more, took mine a while to simmer). This recipe yields about 8 servings of 1-1/4 cups soup, and you can top each serving with a sprinkling of basil ribbons for a tasty finish.
It's a bit high on the sugar and sodium, but that could probably be altered if you went with a lower-sodium broth and used less sweet corn than I did. Still, not bad at all for a soup that is quite filling and would work well for all seasons. I'm definitely going to make it again, and I think next time I'll play with it some more and maybe add chicken or shrimp. Let me know if you try it!
So, to wrap this entry up, I've struggled a bit this week. I didn't go to zumba yesterday because I wasn't feeling well and felt like a complete loser because of it. Not healthy thinking, I know, but I just felt like I had let myself down. I love the Tuesday class so much, and it felt wrong not to push myself through it. But I picked myself back up today and not only ate well, but went to the gym after work and got a really nice bit of cardio done. And I'm heading to tomorrow's zumba class to make up for missing the one last night.
All in all, today was a success that made up for yesterday's suck and that's really the best I can hope for. Now, to indulge in some trashy TV before bed! My mother is visiting tomorrow, which should be a hell of a time.
Goooood morning! It's Monday, hurray? I actually kind of enjoy Mondays because I like the feeling of a fresh new start that the beginning of a week brings. Most Mondays, I wake up refreshed and ready to go, unlike other days later in the week when the slump from getting up early and going allll dayyyy long several days in a row hits me.
Mondays are my official weekly weigh-in. I was doing Sundays, but I never wake up at the same time on the weekends so I figured a day where I know I'll be doing it roughly the same time every week was a better choice. So, Monday. This week was slightly disappointing... up .4 lb. to 285.6 (eik... posting numbers!) Not much, I know, but I'd rather see down by .4 than up. Still, I had a good week and I know what my weak points were (lack of planning on the weekend).
I've decided to make a rule for myself that I try at least one new recipe or food each week. I've been getting by on microwavables and pre-prepared foods, which is silly when I do know how to cook and should be honing my skills and really learning about portions and ingredients firsthand. I tend to not want to cook because I grew up afraid of cooking, but when I do actually try the results are (usually) pretty good. Like this morning, when I decided to try my hand at making an omelet for breakfast.
This wasn't my first time making one, but it has been over a year. Last night we went to the store and I bought all sorts of new produce, including a package of mixed mushrooms (shitake, portabello and white). I decided to use them, then realized I also had spinach and feta cheese and realized I could, in fact, make something totally delicious out of all three. My recipe was:
1 oz. crumbled feta cheese 1/2 cup shitake, white and portabello mushrooms, broken up 1/4 cup(ish) fresh spinach leaves 1/4 cup sliced red onion a sprinkling of garlic powder a dash of pepper 1 egg, 2 egg whites
I cooked the veggies a bit in the pan with some vegetable oil before scooping them out and pouring in the egg mixture. After the eggs had firmed up a bit, I sprinkled in the garlic powder and pepper, then layered the crumbled feta on one side. I let the feta get nice and gooey, then put the veggies on top.
Flipping the omelet is always the most nerve-wracking part for me, but this time I really had no problems. Terrell likes to do the double-fold so it looks like a wrap, but I'm fine with the half-flip. I think it looks nice :) I flipped it in half and let that cook a bit so everything was melded, then flipped it over for a few seconds' cooking on the other side. Then I tossed the omelet onto a plate and ta-da! Delicious, delicious spinach, mushroom & feta omelet for breakfast. Fantastic start to a Monday, indeed!
A few days after Christmas, I made a firm decision: 2011 will be the year I actually follow through on my annual promise to take hold of my life and lose the weight that has been restricting my happiness and well-being for far too many of the years that were supposed to be the "best of my life".
Of course, it's not like things are ever so easy as "I will do this, and so it will be done." I am one of those people who has always had a weight problem. Even as a baby/child, I was a chubby little thing.
Known widely as my "Christmas Ham" baby pic.
I was a rather... special... child, fashion choices notwithstanding.
It's really inevitable when you look at my family - we are, genetically, short and stocky little people. Everyone, from my grandparents down to my youngest brother, has some extra weight on them. It's easy to put on and ridiculously hard to take off, and I spent most of my childhood observing (and sometimes participating in) the struggles my mom and others went through trying to lose weight. Most of these struggles ended in failure, including mine, and I think at some point I got it into my head that losing weight is a futile effort not worth the wasted time and energy.
I grew up thinking of myself as "the fat girl". The first time I can remember acknowledging my weight was second grade when my mother was struggling to find clothes in the girls' section at JC Penny that I could wear. I think I remember that moment so vividly because of how much shame I felt that my body was causing so much trouble. Up until then, I felt more-or-less normal. Maybe a little bigger than other girls my age, but not excessively so. I went swimming, wore shorts and dresses, ran around with my friends. But after that, I knew that my bigger body was a thing to be ashamed of. And, inevitably, it only got worse from there.
Circa third grade (age 9 or 10)
Because I actually was overweight for my age and height, the poor self image I developed early on was only fostered by the teasing and bullying aimed at me by other kids who were "just being kids". I actively and unabashedly envied my beautiful skinny friends and classmates, wishing that I wasn't too fat to continue with the other girls at my dance studio into pointe ballet lessons or get asked to dance at the sixth grade dance. (Well, okay, let's be honest - very few girls got asked to dance at those things because the boys were still mostly concerned with our cooties. But still.) I never had boyfriends, I never felt pretty or self-assured, and of course that continually contributed to a Jocelyn that wished she was anyone but.
The most ironic part of this whole history, I realize now, is that by the time I reached 8th/9th grade my body was actually starting to even itself out.
I thought that I was grotesquely fat when all of these pictures were taken. How ridiculous is that?
Not super skinny by any means, but with a little work I could have toned things up and had a quasi-normal high school experience. Unfortunately, depression had its way with me and I packed on almost 100 lb. or more between my sophomore and senior years. The more weight I gained, the worse I felt, and the more weight I gained on top of that. I stopped going out with friends, I stopped dating, I stopped doing pretty much anything. Looking back, the whole time period is one big fog of unhappiness and shame. Notice I've used that word twice now - shame is a powerful, often crippling emotion. Of course, the facts and reasons for my depression and overall negative experience with high school are plentiful, but I really don't want to get into all of that with this entry (or, perhaps, this blog). Let's just say, things were fucking complicated as hell (and aren't they always with teenagers?) and it's a damn good thing I got out of Ohio when I did.
Senior prom (haaaaaate that dress D: )
College handed me the perfect opportunity to reshape myself, and I did... except not so much physically as emotionally. I don't really find this to be a bad thing, per se, because I needed the complete and total emotional and mental overhaul that the last four years gave me. I was a suicidal, insecure, teetering-on-the-verge mess when I started college, and I graduated a fairly well-adjusted, happy, thirsting-for-life person. It's funny, but I honestly can't even think of whatever I was before I came to Syracuse as a real person - she was just an empty shell. And if you check out this handy before/after picture, I think you'll see what I mean:
The differences are momentous: better hair, better glasses, real happiness, different person's hand creepin' on my shoulder.
Even though I went through some serious shit, including a major health scare directly linked to my weight, I still haven't taken the necessary steps toward making real changes. And that, my potentially non-existent readers, is a problem. As previously noted, I spent much of the holidays by myself which gave me a lot of time to really think about my life and where it's headed. And I guess I realized that it's pretty much just a now or never kind of thing. I've hit "bottom" numerous times, making tearful and dramatic vows to my journal-of-the-moment (I have a bit of a problem where I keep buying pretty journals, writing in them once or twice, then forgetting they exist :x) in the middle of the night that This Is It and starting tomorrow things will be different. Except, tomorrow never happens. I wake up and all of the reasons I was distraught the night before have been washed away by the healing powers of sleep, leaving me with none of the motivation I was bursting with the night before.
I can't even begin to recount how many times this has happened. And I'm sick of it. I've been sick of it for a long time, but I became so sick of it on December 30 that I walked my unshapely bum a few blocks over on my lunch and joined the YMCA. Because despite being a member of Weight Watchers online for the past year+ and eating more-or-less healthy, I've stayed at roughly the same depressing weight for the past 5 years. I haven't made any real effort to change my habits and get the exercise I know is necessary if I want to lose weight, and because of this I have maintained a dangerously unhealthy weight that has only brought me misery, heartache and a serious lack of inexpensive or fun fashion options. I haven't felt "hot" or "sexy" pretty much... ever. I hid behind my supposed devotion to being "straight edge" in college to avoid going to parties, not because I don't like parties (or alcohol) but because the idea of being in a social situation that puts me in the same vicinity with anyone remotely close to my age who I conceive as better looking than me (read: almost everyone) sends me into almost debilitating panic.
But enough is enough. I know I have issues to work out beyond the basics of exercise and nutrition, but I think that if I can get a stable hold on those two areas the rest will come with time and a far better self image. And I know that a better self image can only start if I respect myself. Right now, my self respect is fairly low - though recent initiative on my part has resulted in some serious brownie pointage - because I know how much and for how long I have let myself down. The past few weeks have tested the waters of my resolve, and so far I've only sort of disappointed (which is a major, major step).
I've been tracking all of my food and exercise with MyFitnessPal.com, which is a really excellent (and totally free) website with a thriving community. In fact, I think I'm just going to cancel my weight watchers account because I haven't been using it. Not sure about that, might stick with both for the time being so I have an extra resource. I have been trying to stick to a 1,500 calorie diet and limit my sugar intake. I actually had no idea how much sugar I was consuming every day until I began tracking with MFP - the amount was sickening, really. Though I am on average a fairly healthy eater, I still have major issues with portion control and a terribly annoying sweet tooth, so it's an every day learning experience.
Exercise is and always has been my biggest problem. I'm sedentary by nature, and as anyone who tends toward the couch/computer chair knows, it is HARD to get motivated. I've had several "Walk Away the Pounds" DVDs for a year now and barely used them. It's silly when I have all the time I need, but I always end up finding 1,000 other things I need/want to be doing. And that is where the Y comes in. I checked out a zumba class 3 weeks ago and fell in love immediately, so I've been going about 2x a week. I am also hoping to start a group lifting class and possibly yoga soon, in addition to working out on my own in the women's only fitness room they've got. I don't want to overdo anything, but I need to establish actual movement in my life, especially now that I don't even have the mile or two of walking per day that I had in college to lean on.
I've got some great people behind me in this, but I need more than that: I need accountability. Last week, my best friend Allison sent me a link to an article about 8 Amazing Blogger Weight Loss Transformations, and as I read through all of their stories I realized that I already have a blog and I'm really not doing anything constructive with it besides rambling occasionally about music I like (which I still plan on doing, don't fret). Ben, the only male blogger highlighted in the article, gives the advice that "No matter what life change you need to make, do it publicly."
This resonates with me because I have always kept my struggles with weight loss secret and hidden, even from the people I am closest to. It's all about shame - shame that I've carried for too long, shame that I've let prevent me from doing anything about the reasons I feel shame in the first place. So, no more. I'm saying this to everyone as much as I am saying it to myself. I'll probably be making a lot more posts from now on, at least a couple of times a week relating to my progress. And I'm also going to hold myself accountable by posting monthly progress pictures... once I locate my camera's USB cord, the first of those will get posted.
So, yeah. This post is the first of many that will be part of my journey to a stronger, healthier and happier me. I'll finish it out with my favourite song from zumba class, which requires pretty much no explanation. Until later!
I was carried to Ohio in a swarm of beesI never married, but Ohio don't remember me I still owe money to the money to the money I owe I never thought about love when I thought about home The floors are falling out from everybody I know
─The National
Continuing my obsession with The National, I'm going to start this by casually dropping off the latest song that's wormed its way into my ear and refused to budge.
Bit of a strange video, but it's always the lyrics that draw me into pretty much every song I fall in love with. With the holidays and everything going on over the past month, I've found myself thinking about Ohio quite a lot. On the best of days, my feelings about Ohio range from a vague affection to a mocking dislike, on the worst.... well, let's just say the word choices are rarely what anyone could call "nice".
I left Ohio for good in August 2006, and it was one of the happiest days of my life. Sure, I've returned a number of times for visits over the past few years, some extended and some frighteningly brief. But I go with the intention of leaving. I have a habit, still, of calling Ohio home because I'm still in college mode half the time, but it really isn't and (most importantly) I don't want it to be. Regardless, people that I love live there and that binds me to it. I can sometimes almost physically feel the connections tethering me to the land - as if a few strong yanks might be all it takes to pull me back, willingness be damned.
And that is certainly a fear I entertain from time to time. Having to return to the place where I unloaded all of the bitterness, sadness, frustrations and fears of my youth so I could move on and be happy in another place... how could I even begin to deal with that? And it's all purely selfish, but I think in this case selfishness is necessary. Selfishness is what got me out of there in the first place, and that's something I could not and would not ever apologize for. I think, perhaps, what I fear most is all those people who continually spout the adage that everyone always comes back will be right.
Even if it's a highly implausible notion, fears aren't usually logical or rational, and that's certainly one of my deepest - right there next to becoming my mother (and who isn't afraid of THAT?).
Oh god. I completely had a different intention for this post than to whine about how much I despise my home state. And, of course, any of those plans have been totally wiped from my memory. Maybe it's all the snow... C'est la vie! This is likely not getting a facebook repost...
Read more...
This blog is about me - my musical discoveries, my efforts to lose weight and live a healthy lifestyle, my wedding plans, my adventures and mishaps as I navigate the world. Sometimes it'll be boring, sometimes it'll be sad, sometimes I hope it'll be hilarious. Stick around for recipes, photographs, lists, musings, music and ramblings a-plenty.
This blog is about me - my musical discoveries, my efforts to lose weight and live a healthy lifestyle, my wedding plans, my adventures and mishaps as I navigate the world. Sometimes it'll be boring, sometimes it'll be sad, sometimes I hope it'll be hilarious. Stick around for recipes, photographs, lists, musings, music and ramblings a-plenty.
Posts
