New Blog!

This blog was supposed to be about Nick's and my life, but I've been using to document recipes as of late. I really want to go back and retain the original purpose of this blog, so I have moved all my recipes to a new blog called Stephanie's Cooking. If you enjoy my recipes, you should go check it out!

Ah, the gifts from Gus

When we had everyone over for Easter, Nick and I did a deep-clean of the house. We were concerned about our niece, Isabelle, who hasn't really been around a lot of animals and we didn't want her to have any issues because of Gus or Budda. It was a lot of work, completely worth it, but a lot of work. I don't think there are enough ways to describe the feeling of sitting in your own clean house, knowing that your sweats and tears made it clean. But it's a lot of work!

Anyway, enough of the rambling about cleaning the house. There is a point to the ramblings, however. When I've vacuumed twice and spent time on (likely imaginary) spots on the carpet and then the dog runs around the backyard and drags in dog poo not once, but TWICE, it's amazing if your head doesn't explode. And mine did a little bit. The first time the poo only got on the rug by the French doors and a footprint or two ended up on the kitchen floor when I dragged him in there to clean it off. No big deal, right?

Round two: Gus has poo all over his foot and I don't realize it until he's in the kitchen and there are footprints all over. When I go to grab him, he runs from me. Still has poo on his foot and he proceeds to run all over the house. Livid doesn't begin to describe my feelings at this point. I cleaned Gus up and dragged him upstairs to his crate while I spent over an hour cleaning the kitchen and carpets downstairs. Serious angry face. Took me a little while to forgive him.

And then last night. Ah, last night. Nick called me as soon as he started shift to tell me that they needed him to work overtime, so he was picking up an extra 4 hours, meaning he wouldn't be home until 6am. Fine. I had 3 huge loads of laundry to do and I was really tired. At about 1:30am, Gus and I went upstairs to go to bed (because of Nick's work schedule, we've turned into real night owls, rarely going to bed before 3am). I'm reading Interview With a Vampire, so I read for a little while and turned the light out at around 2. I'm having some crazy dreams (the result of reading a macabre book before falling asleep, I'm sure) when I hear the sound every animal owner dreads. Blehhh! Gus puked up his dinner on the bed. Lovely. It's 4:30am. At first I'm thinking that I can clean the spot, not tell Nick it happened, and wash the bedding when Nick goes to work. Unfortunately, that was not in the stars for me. Those lovely stars that were still shining outside our window since it was still so FREAKING EARLY! The puke had gone through the comforter to the sheet underneath. Off came all the bedding. Nick came home at 6:30 and the sheets were done, so he went to bed and I stayed up for another hour to wait for the comforter. I put it on Nick when it was done and then took a nap on the couch while I waited the two hours for my alarm to go off so I could start the crockpot for dinner. Yeah, slept through that. What a crappy day!

Anyway, point of all this: I love Gus. He's our first "child" and that fact doesn't change because he drives me crazy sometimes. In fact, it probably proves the point that he's our baby. Of course our baby would walk through his own doo and chuck up his dinner on the bed. Of course . . . dysfunctionality reigns supreme in our house! (And, quite honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.)

My Mom Says . . .

I don't update this blog enough. She's right.

Nick and I have had a really lazy, do-nothing week, which we earned because the previous week was psychotic and mental disease-inducing. We decided to do some renovating in our downstairs guest bath. This meant taking down the wallpaper, painting, removing and replacing the light fixture, mirror, toilet paper holder, and towel rack and then cleaning up the giant mess we made. Between two adults this should not be too much work, right? Wrong.

It took us 4 days to take down the wallpaper (one of those days both of us were incredibly sick and didn't really do any taking down of the wallpaper, so I don't know if that day counted). Then we had to paint and do all that other stuff (we didn't actually get the light fixture up since neither of us felt like getting an electric shock, but that's okay since there is another light in the ceiling that we didn't mess with). All this on top of getting the house ready for two separate Easter celebrations. Yes, I did TWO Easter celebrations at my house. Why? Because I'm crazy.

On Saturday, the day before everyone came over, we did all the painting and other stuff. Why did we wait so long to do this? Well, the wallpaper wasn't completely off the walls until 3am the night before/morning of. This was also the day that I cleaned the entire house, top to bottom. And made a brunch casserole and a GIANT batch of roasted tomato salsa. This salsa took 3 hours to do by itself, considering the fact that I had to roast 10 cloves of garlic, 25 roma tomatoes, 3 onions, and 25 serrano peppers.( And yes, we still have a ton of it in our fridge. It made a lot of salsa!) Add to that the fact that I had to process it in 4 batches and you have one messy kitchen, which I had spent the morning deep cleaning. Anyway, lots of work.

Nick and I were so tired by the time Saturday was over and then we had a long day on Sunday too. First, my mom, dad, and brother came over and they brought my Papa, who hadn't seen our new house yet. It was really nice to have Papa there for brunch and he liked the house, which meant a lot to me. We had lots of great food and everyone kept saying how nice it was just being together like this. It was! But then they left and we had to clean all over again to get ready for dinner with the Pritchetts. A nap was in order, but it would have taken a full 8-hour "nap" to help us feel rested. Fortunately, Nick and I have amazing families who make it incredibly easy to entertain, so we had a delicious and successful dinner on top of our delicious and successful brunch. All in all, it was a great day. But we were exhausted when it was all over!

So Nick and I took this week "off." We also relaxed on Nick's 3-day this weekend. Next weekend we're going to Powell's Books in Portland (a huge, amazing bookstore) and to the Woodburn factory outlets to go shopping. And then after that? We start getting ready for a big Mother's Day brunch with my family and Papa and the Pritchetts. That's right, everyone in our house at the same time! Crazy! I figure since I did so well with brunch and dinner separately, I can handle an all-in-one brunch. As much work as it is to entertain, I really love it, especially when it's with family.

And don't tell Nick, but my goals for home renovations before Mother's Day include painting the upstairs guest bath and two spare bedrooms. He's going to poop a brick when he finds out!

Lazy much?

Here it is 5:30 on a Saturday afternoon and Nick and I have gotten little to nothing accomplished. We had a huge list of "stuff" to do on Nick's three day and we only got 4 things done on our list. Do I feel bad? Maybe a little bit. But Nick hasn't had a three day in a month because of all the overtime he's been working, so it seemed more than fair that we spend some time just vegging.

Oddly enough, the only thing I regret that we didn't get done is the partial remodel of our downstairs bath. We needed to remove the wallpaper and putty up the holes, decide on a paint color, paint, and change out the mirror, toilet paper holder, towel rack, and storage cabinet. What did we get done? Well, we bought the stuff to remove the wallpaper. That's it. And I really feel guilty about it because I posted on facebook that we were going to complete that stage of the remodel yesterday. I hate it when I say I'm going to do something and I don't get it done. It makes me feel very unaccomplished. Bleh.

The best thing about this weekend? I got to spend time with Nick! And we finished setting up our master bedroom, which turned out beautifully. It feels like the room we stayed in on the first night of our honeymoon at the Salish Lodge, sans fireplace. That means it's super romantic and soothing. I love the colors and the lighting, and just being in the room makes me relax. The other best thing about this weekend? I booked our extra nights at the Hotel Castex in Paris before and after our European trip. We start and end in Paris, and the Rick Steves tour site recommends coming in a day early because of jet lag, so we added an extra day to the beginning of our trip. This means that we will be traveling on our 1-year wedding anniversary, September 26th. It's not the optimal way to spend that day, but big picture: we're going to be in France for 2 weeks right after that, so who cares if we spend that one day flying? We are also adding two days to the end of the tour because we want to spend some extra time in Paris to see Versailles, which isn't on our tour itinerary. All in all, I'm very excited! Looking at flights, it seems like the best deal we're going to get is to fly through Iceland. Of course, Nick and I are very excited about this too, in typical weird Nick-Stephanie fashion. Who wants to go to Iceland? I guess we do!

Overall, life is stressful, but we're handling it okay and we have lots to look forward to in our upcoming vacation. After that, it's all about the babies. Scary . . .

Gripes

I have a few gripes I would like to put out there, so bear with me.

#1: Attention whores. Definition: any person who does anything specifically designed to gain attention, whether that attention is good or bad. To clarify: this person has an agenda in everything they do and his/her life revolves around any kind of attention he/she can get. My feelings about this: the world doesn't revolve around you and I don't care about your issues/ridiculousness. Period.

#2: Today's parenting techniques. My mom teaches preschool and has told me that kids never say please, thank you, yes ma'am, etc. anymore. Having taught high school, I know it gets even worse as they get older. My mom's generation was taught to be polite, as was mine. So why has my generation turned around and chosen to be "friends" with their kids instead of parents? It's called discipline and yes, it's harder than giving your children whatever they want and it takes more work (gasp!), but we're responsible for molding the future leaders of this world and quite frankly, I'm terrified for our future because of this.

#3: People who don't take responsibility for their actions. Nick sees this all the time as a cop and I saw it all the time as a teacher. You must put in the hard work in order to reap the reward. If you screw up, there are consequences for your actions. I may feel sorry for you because of those consequences, but you still deserve them. And NO, you do NOT deserve a reality TV show because of your stupidity.

#4: Media-influenced culture. The reason for crummy parenting, people who don't take responsibility for their actions, and attention whores (besides laziness and stupidity): the media. We are bombarded by images of celebrities acting like idiots and getting away with it. We see them get married and divorced over and over again. We see them drink and drive and get away with it. We see them doing little to nothing and getting paid millions of dollars for it. The media has turned our society into lazy, helpless, self-serving, I deserve everything just because I do jackasses. You don't have the right to wealth, happiness, and a do-nothing lifestyle just because you live in the US. You have the right to work. You have the right to vote (and how about we do a better job of that next time, huh? YES WE CAN . . . drive the country into the ground). You do not have the right to commit a crime and get away with it. You do not have the right to hurt other people or lie without garnering consequences. You should not have the right to treat cops the way many people do (Did you all freaking forget the number we've lost this year? Because you're all acting like you have. RESPECT MY HUSBAND AND THE OTHER MEN & WOMEN OUT THERE PROTECTING YOUR SORRY ASSES!). You should not have the right to treat marriage like a joke and divorce like it's no big deal. In my opinion, the law has become too liberal/lenient and that is another reason why no one is held accountable for their actions. When a certain state passes a law that says no cop can search a vehicle without a search warrant EVEN IF THERE ARE DRUGS IN PLAIN SIGHT, there is something wrong. When a certain state is unable to seek the death penalty for one of the most prolific serial killers of all time, there is something wrong.

So what does all this add up to? Even with my usually optimistic outlook for the state of our country, I'm appalled by the deterioration of our culture. What are we barreling toward?

REVOLUTION.

So, enjoy the irresponsible, lazy, and ridiculous nature of life for now. I will enjoy the after-effects of the total upheaval of our culture and pray every day for a return to a more polite, community-focused culture that values intelligence and hard work instead of get-rich-quick schemes, sluttiness, and lies.

Anniversaries galore

Yesterday, the 23rd was Nick's and my 3-year anniversary of the day we met. We both agree that some days it feels like we've known each other forever and other days it doesn't seem like it could possibly be that long since the fateful night. I suppose most people feel that way. Time flies some days and drags others and that's universal.

On the 26th it will be our 5-month wedding anniversary. That's crazy too. It usually seems like we've been married forever and the two weddings were a lifetime ago. Stress will do that to you, I guess. Time is apparently manipulated by the amount of stress associated with it. Makes sense, right?

And finally, the sad anniversary. On the 27th it will be two years since we lost my Nana. That one is the hardest and will remain difficult for many years I'm sure. Most days it feels like I could just pick up the phone and call her and she'd answer. I wish that were true. I just want to talk to her one more time. There is so much I need to tell her! It's funny though, just when I've been thinking about her and missing her so much, she'll let me know she's still here. Sometimes it's a penny. Last night it was a song. It's called "One More Day" by Diamond Rio and it seems to come on at the most interesting times. God, I miss her.

On a lighter note (don't we all need a lighter note at times?), Nick and I got our first time homebuyers refund check. $8000! Yay! Now, to decide what to do with all that money . . . Originally the plan was to spend it on the house. However, Nick and I didn't get a big honeymoon and we're getting ready to start a family, so our time-for just the two of us-is getting shorter. We've decided that it's time to fulfill one of our travel dreams: we're going to Paris. We are most likely going to do the Rick Steve's tour that includes Paris and the Loire River Valley. It's going to be expensive and completely amazing. It will include the usual tours of Paris and trips to Chenonceaux, Chambord, Brittany, Mont St. Michel, and the D-Day beaches at Normandy. The tour has the perfect amount of culture and history to appeal to both Nick and me and it's something we both have been wanting to do for a long time. Now, for me, England, Ireland, and Scotland would be a first choice with France coming in a close second, but Nick has promised that we will do England/Wales at least before our 5-year wedding anniversary, so I'm content with our choice. It may not be the most practical way to spend this money, but I know for a fact that money spent on experiences is not regretted or wasted. So Europe in the fall: here we come!

Craziness

So it's been a rough week for Nick and me. It started last Thursday when Nick came home from work. His back hurt, but he didn't say too much, so I didn't think much of it. The next morning he was obviously in pain and *gasp* called in sick for work! I made him go to the doctor (no easy task getting him to make that appointment) and it turned out that he had a spasming lumbar muscle. Vicodin and a muscle relaxer plus bi-weekly massages for a month were the doctor's orders. Nick took Saturday and Sunday off and had Monday and Tuesday off already, so he had 5 days to heal. The pills made him sleep, but he had weird dreams (and was dead to the world) so he quit taking them within a few days. However, I ended up being very thankful for the vicodin.

So, here's the warning. If you don't like reading about girl issues or you get squeamish when someone is honest about bodily functions, stop reading now. You've been warned.

On Thursday night I started having severe abdominal pains. I've dealt with this before and had to go to the ER, only to be told that I might have had a ruptured ovarian cyst. How do they determine this lovely bit of information? An internal ultrasound. Meaning a stick with a condom-yeah, a condom-goes up there and they look for fluid. I had a little bit, but second opinions from other doctors ranged from kidney stones to gas. Yes, gas. Laugh if you will, but this was a pain like a constant, unending contraction (no, I haven't been in labor yet, but that is what I imagine it's probably like) and while in the ER I was given morphine intravenously, so I'm guessing this is a pretty good indication that the pain was pretty bad. But morphine is SO good!

Anyway, back to my lovely experience on Thursday. The pain started around midnight and sent me straight to the bathroom in the fear that I would throw up or . . . other things. I was in there for 2 hours and most of that time was spent panicking and praying I didn't black out (which I almost did quite a few times). I didn't want to call my parents or Nick (I can't remember why now) and my phone doesn't call the local 911. Plus, since Nick worked ambulance, I've heard stories and didn't want to call for one if I didn't need it. I don't want to be that girl. Around 1:30 I took a vicodin, which began to knock me out. I was curled up on the floor in our downstairs bath praying for Nick to come home on time when he called for me to open the garage. He took one look at me and knew it was serious. But somehow, just him being home made it better. I convinced him that I was fine (it was just the cyst/stones/gas again) and I slept on the couch. He took Gus upstairs (poor dog had spent the majority of the night lying on the floor in the bathroom with me) and went to bed.

Next morning. Blood. Coming from an unfortunate place. No bowel movements, just blood. I spent the morning panicking and looking this up on the internet, which just served to freak me out even more. I called my mom multiple times. Her advice was to call the doctor and make an appointment. She was worried too. I kept finding a new excuse for not calling the doctor. I hate going to any doctor and I fully believe in the mantra: If I don't know about it, it doesn't exist. I was terrified that I would have to go back to the ER. Finally after cramping and bleeding all morning, I made an appointment. They couldn't get me in until the next morning. I went upstairs to wake Nick and let him know. At that point I went to the bathroom. It was just blood again. I finally showed Nick. The blood drained out of his face and he insisted that we go to the walk-in clinic by our house that minute. Now I was really freaking out. Nick is the sane one, the one who doesn't panic until there is really something to panic about. So I know it's bad.

We go to the clinic. They get me in almost right away. The guy who sees me is attractive and young. Fun. Let's talk about my rear! After asking a lot of questions (and me sitting in the chair in the room next to Nick cramping and on the verge of tears), he says that he needs to excuse himself because it looks like I need a scope and he needs to get a nurse in the room. Seriously? I make Nick leave the room. The nurses come in to get everything ready and I have to strip to the waist. At this point the tears have stopped. The irony of the situation makes it hard to cry. I've been here before. Utter humiliation and pain. Kind of like when I had those abnormal cells in my cervix (ie the precursor to cervical cancer) and I had to have a colposcopy. Remembering that procedure and the pain that followed made this seem like a cake-walk. So anyway, the doctor comes back in, I turn on my side and stare at the wall while contemplating the ridiculousness of this situation. On my mom's side of the family there have been a lot of issues with digestion and the organs involved in that particular process, but I didn't expect to have to deal with it (in this manner at least) until I was much older. Oh well.

Final prognosis (after being prodded-pun intended-by the cute doctor guy with two-yes, two-nurses as witnesses; one was a trainee-yes, I really want to watch this procedure!): I had a fissure (fancy word for tear) in my colon. Haha, funny right? No. A prolapsed colon, which can result from a tear, is BAD news. Means surgery, a big scar, and a lengthy recuperation. So now I'm only supposed to eat "easily digestible" foods, meaning mushy shit, pardon the language. I hate bananas! And soup sans grilled cheese? YUCK! And I have to take Benefiber three times a day to keep things flowing like they are supposed to. I feel better, but I'm still bleeding a little bit. If I don't see a marked improvement, meaning no blood, by Monday/Tuesday, I'm going to have to go back in for a more involved procedure. Blood, blood, go away.

So, to make a very long (and disgusting and humiliating) story short, Nick hurts his back and gets pain pills and a bunch of massages. And I end up with a torn colon and fridge full of nasty yogurt. Life is so not fair.