things i love thursday! (june 23, 2011)

OH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS. What a wonderful week! So many awesome things have happened in just seven short days. On a scale of 1-10, I’d say this week is a solid 9! (I shy away from perfection, otherwise this week would be a 10 for sure.)

Alrighty. Here are all the AWESOME things that happened this week!


  • EEEP! Romeo (my 5-year-old cat) and baby Hamlet were caught CUDDLING! (Sorry the photo is a bit dodgy — Dan took it from far away with his phone.) BAHHHHH CUTENESS!
  • Seeing really GREAT live music performed by my super talented friends for cheap.
  • Happy Hour at Chez Pierre, EVEN THOUGH WE HAD THE MOST ATROCIOUS SERVICE EVER. But hey. It made for some great laughs.
  • Rocking some red lipstick and glittery heels! I can be girly sometimes!
  • Saying goodbye to Evan and his empty cube.
  • Pancakes and ministry.
  • Zack and Mitchell the turtle.
  • Bible study with awesome friends.
  • Passion Party with Felicite, Ashley, and Kristi!
  • Ashley buying Diet Coke, JUST FOR ME! 🙂
  • Strawberries and grapes.
  • $3 bottle of white wine.
  • Playing keyboard and singing in the band on Sunday. Always makes for an amazing and fun time.
  • Calling my mom on Sunday to wish her a happy Father’s Day, since she had to be my mom AND dad.
  • On Sunday, when my husband was doing announcements at church, he recognized the fathers in the room and said something along the lines of, “I’m not a dad yet… right?” And turned to look at me on stage for an answer. In front of EVERYONE. So yes. I smiled. But I also blushed. A lot. And no, he’s not a dad. Yet.
  • Throwing a lovely birthday shindig for our boss at work and showing off my sweet balloon-blowing-up skills.
  • Dinner at Miller’s with another Ashley, who is in the process of changing the world.
  • Emails/Facebook messages to/from: Chrissie, Jessica B., Lauren, and Ali.
  • Getting a list of things Jessica loves about herself in my inbox. So amazing!
  • YOU. My lovely readers.
  • My friends.
  • My iPod.
  • My husband doing chores without even having me ask him!
  • My husband telling me bible stories to help me fall asleep. My favorite was when he started out: “Once there was a guy named Jacob. Well, he eventually changed his name to Israel, but that’s not really important. Anyway…” HA! Ohhh he’s so wonderful.
  • Baby Hamlet sleeping/purring on my chest at night.
  • Spaghetti.
  • Dance class!
  • Seeing Amanda at dance class! One of my favorite London babies. 🙂
  • Watching all of South Park Season 6 with Dan. SO GOOD.
  • Hearing people tell me that I’ve inspired them to start blogging. Well, garsh. :]
  • Boss is buying us lunch today from my favorite pizza joint! HECK YEAH!

And I think that pretty much sums it up! What an awesome week, you guys.

What about you? What things made you smile this week? 🙂

my “happy” weight.

Something wonderful happened today. I ate my lunch at my desk today so, on my lunch hour, I went to Starbucks and got a deliciously nomtastic grande iced sugar-free soy caramel latte (yes, I am one of “those” people who have super pretentious coffee preferences) and went outside to sit at a table in 100 degree heat (mmmm heaven) to read by myself for an hour.

As I was getting situated, I caught my reflection in the large, glass windows of the shop. Today I am rocking my favorite dress (brown strapless with buttons down the front that comes to the middle of my thighs — this dress hugs and accentuates my figure in all kinds of wonderful ways) and a sparkly gold necklace, with my hair pulled back into a messy ballerina bun. I am looking quite adorbs if I do say so myself. When I saw my reflection, I couldn’t help but smile and think, “Hot damn, I’m a bit sexy.”

Ever have those days? When you just KNOW you’re beautiful? Today was one of those days for me.

It’s hard to believe that just yesterday I was having a mini-meltdown in my cubicle over my “happy weight.”

I stumbled across a certain “fitness and well-being” magazine’s website yesterday (and no, I’m not going to tell you which website it was or which magazine. I don’t want you going through the same crap I did. AND DON’T GOOGLE IT. SERIOUSLY. Save yourself.) They had a feature that, at first glance, looks pretty decent. It’s called “Your Happy Weight.” When I clicked on it, I was pleasantly surprised with it. They start out talking about how we women tend to diet and exercise to get down to a certain unattainable number and we beat ourselves up over never getting there. At this point I was like, “Yeah! Totally! What’s your solution?” And their solution is your “happy weight.” They had a calculator which, if you entered in your height, weight, build, and gender, would offer up your “happy” weight — that is, the weight you should try to attain in order to be comfortable and “happy.”

Well, at my current weight, I’m pretty peachy. But, in a moment of weakness, I second-guessed myself. I’m happy at my weight, I thought, but what if I’m not at my “happy weight” and I’m still happy? That wouldn’t be okay, would it?  I decided to enter in my information just to make sure I was indeed at my happy weight.

I’m sure you can guess where this is going.

According to this website, I need to lose over 30 pounds to attain my “happy weight,” which would put me at a weight I haven’t seen since 6th grade, BEFORE I HAD MY PERIOD. YIKES.

My heart sank to the floor. How am I ever going to lose 30 pounds, I wondered sadly. It will never happen. Even when I was 15 pounds lighter than I am now, at the peak of my eating disorder, everyone told me I was too skinny and looked sick. But evidently I can’t be happy unless I lose 30 pounds…

Wait. What?

LINDSAY! WAKE UP! A website calculator has no authority over your “happy weight.” Your happy weight is whatever weight you decide it is, not some Interwebs bot!

And, let me tell you what — regardless of what the scale said this morning, I will be at my happy weight today, tomorrow, and the next day. Not because of the three digits it reads, but because:

  • I know that it has no bearing what so ever on my self-worth.
  • I know I am healthy.
  • I know I am lovely.
  • I know that regardless of it, I am loved by others and by myself.

What about you? Have you ever stumbled across an ideal weight calculator online? How did it make you feel?

things i love thursday! (june 16, 2011)

Phew! What a week it’s been! Lots of good fun and craziness ensued, accompanied by not enough sleep. I need a stiff drink and a nap, but all in due time. For now, today is Thursday, and our focus is love. So here we go!


  • My friend Heather posting the above picture from the late 90’s on my Facebook. OMG. So much is going on in this picture that I don’t feel comfortable broadcasting to the Internet. But. Just know that we’d just experienced something very special that had to do with the band Hanson. (Also, stalking isn’t bad when you’re just a teenage girl, right?)
  • CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW AWESOME MY SHIRT IS?! (I’m on the left, btw.)
  • Hamlet the kitten and Romeo the cat are besties now! (And by “besties” I mean they wrestle a lot.)
  • My cats are named after Shakespeare characters. Calling out to Hamlet always makes me smile.
  • Zack’s birthday shenanigans!
  • Orange Blossom Pilsner 2.
  • Cornhole. Even though I’m terrible at it.
  • Libby’s sobering comments at dinner. I don’t even remember what it was this time, but it was along the same lines as, “Helen Keller was a real person, you guys.”
  • E3Kids pool party!
  • Donuts and watermelon.
  • Water slide.
  • Taking a 4 hour nap.
  • Dinner at Gordo’s with the hubs.
  • Bowling! And granny shots!
  • Beer. Always.
  • The lead pastor at our church came up to me and told me his daughter gets excited when I teach junior high. That’s a pretty big deal.
  • Lunch at Olive Garden with Dan and Christie. Too. Much. Food. We will miss her while she’s away, but she’s doing awesome things in Guatemala!
  • Randomly driving to Monticello, the city where we spent our wedding night, and seeing the creepy/sketchy/weird Chinese restaurant from which Dan got us surprisingly tasty take-out for our first married dinner together.
  • Driving with him.
  • Conversations at Chili’s about McDonalds porn. “You know the rule, right?”
  • Romeo, Hamlet, Dan, and I all sleeping in the same bed. It’s hilariously cute. I also accidentally drop bows on poor little Ham because he likes to sleep right between Dan and I near the pillows.
  • DANCE CLASS! I was so sore afterward, but it was awesome!
  • Having my husband cook for me!
  • Falling asleep at Barnes & Noble. Really. Who does that?
  • Iced sugar free soy caramel lattes.
  • Getting our first WIN for the summer ultimate league! Wooo Buddhalicious!
  • Chocolate cupcakes.
  • Making changes in life.
  • Bible study and the hilarious banter afterward.
  • Levi talking to me about Harry Potter.
  • Experience Joy on my lunch break!
  • RYAN CABRERA and my best friend!
  • My husband admiring me while I get ready in the morning. He’s so adorable.
  • Praying for my friends.

Alrighty! That about does it. Lots to smile about this week. What do you love this week? Let me know! ❤

things i love thursday! (may 26, 2011)

Alrighty lovely people. It’s that time again. Sit down. Breathe for a second, and write down all the things that you loved on this week. I don’t know about you, but I smiled like a crazy person all week. Here’s why:

Me with my friends Dayle and Leah while the bartender forces us into inebriation.


  • Surprise lunch at Red Elephant with Andrea!
  • Andrea passing on her very first hula hoop to me prior to her move to San Fransisco. I was so touched!
  • Knowing how to hula hoop. Bam!
  • Dan coming back to town after being gone for a few days for work.
  • Making Dan an AMAZING dinner all by myself! (Spinach and tomato tortellini. NOMS.)
  • Planning to make that same dinner tonight for us and Felicite!
  • Wine as a sleep aid.
  • Getting dolled up and pretty with Dayle and Leah and hitting the town.
  • Arvin! (Before we got our bills, anyway.)
  • Talking about babies, even when we distinctly decided to not talk about babies! (They’re just too darn cute, am I right?)
  • Sharing proposal stories.
  • Listening to pregnant stories.
  • Baked Doritos.
  • The Hunger Games trilogy. (CAN’T PUT IT DOWN!)
  • The Breakfast Club at Cracker Barrel.
  • Getting together with four of my favorite fellow book worms/newsies for our Book Club!
  • Loaf of Soup.
  • Used book stores.
  • Being a part of Emily’s 13th birthday present. What a blessing.
  • Live music, especially when the musicians are my friends. Like these guys.
  • Dan Cole doing “the dad thing” and showing me pictures of his adorable kids on his iPhone.
  • Harmonicas.
  • Did I mention margarita-flavored water already? Or am I getting a buzz from this junk?
  • Team Buddhalicious.
  • Elevate and Dr. Cloud.
  • Free sushi!
  • We now own SONIC COLORS and it only cost us $2! Ahhhh! It’s so fun!
  • Accidental (borderline narcoleptic) naps.
  • Rita’s Custard. ZOMG NOMS.

I think that about does it. What do you love this week? Jot it down. It’ll make you feel good inside.

when other people don’t get it.

Recently, someone found out through the grapevine (blogosphere?) that I struggle with body image issues. She immediately assumed I needed help losing weight and so without asking me how I felt, she ran up to me and started telling me about how I just need to eat less and it would solve all of my problems.

As pissed off as I was, I couldn’t get a word in edgewise to defend myself. I just had to stand there getting told over and over about how if I would stop eating, I’d be better. Happier. Sexier. A better wife. She even sought out my husband to tell him that she was so proud of the fact that she was going to save me from my own dastardly body! (He was furious, naturally.)

“LINDSAY I hear you deal with body image issues and let me just tell you I used to too and all you need to do is just stop eating so much and everything will be fine, I can teach you how! It’s sooooo easy to get skinny! You just have to cut out all carbs until you die and don’t eat anything solid on days that end in ‘DAY’ and you’ll be super skinny and you’ll finally be happy!”

[Might be a slight exaggeration. Might not. You decide.]

I let her spout off her “knowledge” on the subject, though she didn’t bother to ask me about how I actually feel about my body. I slowly breathed in and out.

“Well, I don’t think that me losing weight will solve the issue really, because I recently recovered from an eating disorder and I know what it’s like to not eat much and be really thin and I still wasn’t happy so I–”


Sensing she wasn’t going to hear anything I wanted to say about it, I just laid down and let her shoot me. “Okay. Cool. Sounds completely normal and doable. Days that end in ‘DAY,’ right? Cool. Sounds good.”

And I just had to let her keep going on and on until finally I could slip away and silently drown in the reality that other people assume that I need to lose weight to be happy.

Yep. That’s the key to my happiness, people. My weight. The number on the scale. And if I could just get my act together and go on a diet and lose weight, I’d be fine! It’s definitely not my mindset or anything else that actually will stay with me until I die. Nope, my happiness is obviously wrapped up in the weight of my body that was designed to fall apart.

Has this ever happened to you? </rant>


oh yes i did AGAIN — ANOTHER blog about sex.

Photo Credit: Ashley Poole Photography

sexy [sek-see]
– adjective

  1. concerned predominantly or excessively with sex
  2. sexually interesting or exciting; radiating sexuality
  3. excitingly appealing; glamorous

A couple weeks ago, I was sitting on the love seat in my living room watching TV when my husband came home from work. After throwing his bag down and offering maybe a sentence or two of small talk, he blurted out a question to me without sitting down first. It appeared he was a bit fired up about something.

“Would you give up sex for a year if it meant that you’d lose twenty pounds?”
“Of course,” I replied almost immediately.
He was astonished. “You WOULD?” For a whole year?”
“If it meant I’d lose twenty pounds, of course I would. I don’t see what’s wrong with that. I don’t need sex that badly.” I didn’t see the problem with my answer.
“You would really do that to me?” he protested.
“Well, I wouldn’t be doing it to you, I’d be doing it for you. Is that so wrong?”
“You’re sexy just the way you are! I couldn’t care less about you losing twenty pounds,” he exploded.

Me? Sexy?

Dan went on to tell me that evidently I wasn’t the only one who would give up sex for skinniness. Fitness Magazine asked 2,400 women the exact same question that he asked me. They found that over half of the women surveyed would forgo sex for an entire year if it meant they’d be a bit slimmer. After talking it out a bit more, I realized that my husband was probably so passionate about our discussion because, if anyone, his self-love warrior wife should have seen right through this ridiculous inquiry.

But I fell for it. I failed.

And then I got pissed.

I can’t speak for all 2,400 of those women, but I can say that I came to my answer so quickly because at my current weight society doesn’t find me sexy. So, ergo, by proxy, over the years I have succumbed to the idea that I’m not sexy. If you hear a lie long enough, you eventually end up believing it. That conclusion hurt to come to; I desperately wanted to be sexy. But I’m not airbrushed. I have rolls in my stomach sometimes. My thighs rub together when I walk. My hair frizzes. And, according to the BMI scale, I’m overweight. All of these things are the antithesis of the female sex icons society idolizes. So that’s that, then. I’m not sexy. My body isn’t sexy.

When I don’t feel good about my body, the last thing I want to do is have sex. I don’t want to be naked, I certainly do not want anyone else’s eyes to fall victim to laying upon the giant monstrosity that is my body, and — DEAR GOD — I do not want to be touched. And since society has now convinced me that I’m not sexy, I guess that also means that I shouldn’t have sex even if I want to (or am encouraged to in order to maintain a healthy marriage) because sex is reserved for sexy people only. Naturally.

But! If I were to lose weight and shimmy my skinny way into the “sexy” ideal that society has impressed upon me, then I could finally earn the right to have sex. Only after becoming what society deems “sexy” would I be allowed to partake in the wondrous phenomenon that is sexual activity. Therefore, giving up sex for a year in order to slim down is what I’m supposed to want, right? I mean, it’s my own fault for being too chubby to be considered “sexy.”

Like I said, I can’t speak for the 51% of women who selected “yes” on the survey. But for me, this is why I ever so quickly jumped on the affirmative.

I envy men sometimes. I really do, mostly when it comes to sex. They don’t have to feel good about their bodies to have sex. They don’t have to do anything to have sex, really. Dan has been known to practically tackle me the moment I come home from work/a sweaty three-mile run/a church lock-in/jeans shopping/whatever without any context. He (along with the other men I’ve been with) is capable of going from  zero to one hundred in ten seconds flat. It really seems as though he can become sexually aroused no matter the circumstances. Day. Night. If we have to be somewhere in fifteen minutes. If we don’t. If we’ve been fighting. If we’ve been watching Passion of the Christ. If I just tried on a pair of jeans at the mall that I thought were my size but evidently have shrunken since my last shopping trip and have thus become the catalyst to a mid-mall-meltdown. Whatever. If I’m breathing and still have girl parts, sex is an option.

But how could he possibly want me when I’m not even close to sexy? I mean, I need to lose like a hundred million pounds and put on layers upon layers of make up and shave everything and wear push-up lingerie and–

Wait, wait, wait. Lindsay. WAKE UP. What did he say at the beginning of this conversation?

“You’re sexy just the way you are!”

I texted my husband just now to find out what that means. How am I sexy just the way I am?

His answer: “Your eyes, your curves, your soft smooth skin, your laugh and smile, just everything about you.”

Everything about me. Everything. Even my thighs that touch. Even my tummy rolls. Even my naturally curly hair. Everything.


Suck it, society. Screw you and your dumb ideals. I don’t care what you say about me. I’m sexy and I don’t need to do anything to be so. You’re probably just scared to admit that a woman can be sexy just the way she is because that would destroy everything you stand for.

And that’s so unsexy.

what “fueled by diet coke” is all about.

Evidently, pregnancy cravings are a beast. When my mother was pregnant with me, she carried around and nursed a 2 liter of Coke each day. This means that I started drinking Coke quite literally at conception. Throughout my childhood years this didn’t seem to be a problem. Everyone in my family drank soda regularly; nowadays, the dangers of regular soda consumption are widely known. But back when I was a kid, toddlers sucked Coca Cola from their Evenflows.

My first recorded instance of dealing with body image issues was when I was eight years old. When I looked into the mirror, I realized my stomach stuck out a bit (possibly from all the dang soda and sugar I consumed?) and I distinctly remember thinking to myself that I couldn’t wait to get boobs because they’d make my stomach look smaller. I was already comparing myself to other women and falling short. When I got to middle school, I felt chubby compared to my skinny prepubescent classmates. I decided to take matters into my own hands. My distorted body image blossomed into full-fledged crash dieting, even though I got boobs like I’d wished. I decided to go on a very strict diet of simply a bowl of oatmeal a day but, because I was so desperately in love with (read: addicted to) Coke, I couldn’t bear to part with it. So I made the switch to Diet Coke.

To stave off hunger pangs, I would consume several Diet Cokes a day. I would even substitute meals for it. It seemed like the perfect plan! Eat one bowl of oatmeal and drink a six pack of Diet Coke a day! Perfection! What could go wrong with that plan? Diet Coke was a delicious stomach filler, devoid of calories, fat, sugar, and evil, and full of only tastiness and caffeine (a metabolism booster!)

What could be better?

When I was a junior in college I lived with one of my best friends Becky. We typically shared groceries, but I was quite reluctant to offer up any of my Diet Cokes. I made frequent stops by the fridge each day to grab a can without thinking.

One day, I mindlessly walked into the kitchen and to the fridge to get my Diet Coke fix. Becky was doing something by the sink within arms reach of me and when I reached for the door handle she, like a ninja, slammed her hand on the fridge door and prevented me from opening it.

“Lindsay,” she said seriously. “We need to talk.”
“Okay,” I replied. I was extremely nervous. Becky and I are very close, and when she takes that tone with me it is usually because I deserve to be smacked across the face.
“This has got to stop. You can’t keep drinking Diet Coke like this. I’m worried about you. You drink so much of it. And I don’t even know what’s in it! I wish you’d switch to regular Coke so at least I’d know what the hell you’re consuming everyday!”

I was stunned.

I had never thought about the fact that, apart from caffeine and deliciousness, I really didn’t know what was in my lone beverage choice. But she was right — the entire reason I drank Diet Coke was because it didn’t have anything in it. That was the whole reason I made the switch in the first place. And suddenly, it made sense.  While I wasn’t consuming calories or fat, I was definitely consuming gallons upon gallons upon gallons of something, and I didn’t have any earthly clue as to what that was. I suddenly became very uneasy.

So I Googled it. It’s what you do when you’re already freaked out about something and wish to become even more freaked out about it.

What I found wasn’t particularly surprising. All of the ingredients were words I couldn’t pronounce, except for aspartame, which I found out is actually poison.

According to the Internet, “the following chronic illnesses can be triggered or worsened by ingesting of aspartame: Brain tumors, multiple sclerosis, epilepsy, chronic fatigue syndrome, Parkinson’s disease, Alzheimer’s, mental retardation, lymphoma, birth defects, fibromyalgia, and diabetes.”

So. Despite my satisfaction with the fact that I was skinnier than the majority of people who drank regular Coke, I was (it seemed) deteriorating from the inside out.

My intervention from Becky changed my life. I’d been so obsessed with being skinny that I’d completely neglected my own nutrition. So I conceded that this had gone on long enough and I made an appointment with a nutritionist.

After analyzing my eating habits over the course of my life (which, at some pretty low points didn’t allow for me to consume more than 900 calories a day) the nutritionist informed me that yes, Diet Coke was really bad for me and, oh, just a bit of a side note, I’d been suffering from an eating disorder since age twelve.

Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, or EDNOS. I was officially diagnosed with an eating disorder and before I had time to fight her on it, she was spouting off my recovery plan straight to my shocked, open-mouthed mug.

It took me several years to really develop a healthy relationship with food. Actually, I would say I didn’t really reconcile with food (and my body) until about a year and a half ago. After going through that mentally (and physically) exhausting hell, I made a pact with myself that I’d never, ever, EVER do that to myself again and that I was going to treat my body with love and respect because it was the only one I’d ever have. I realized that life’s too bloody short to hate your body so much, and I’d already wasted twelve years of my life doing it.

Not only was I addicted to Diet Coke, but I was also addicted to the poison that society was feeding me on a daily basis through magazine covers, TV shows, movies, the pornography industry, the modeling industry, the cosmetic industry, the textiles industry…

What poison is that? The idea that I’m not good enough the way I am. The idea that my self-worth is wrapped up in my pants size, my shirt size, my body shape, my weight, my BMI, my skin color, my hair color, my hair texture, the amount of calories I consume (or don’t) in a day…

Sadly, unlike Diet Coke, I can’t choose to quit consuming this poison. It’s unstoppable. These industries profit on making me feel bad about myself, and unless I live in a dark hole under the ground with earplugs and an eye mask, I will be exposed to messages that perpetuate the idea that I’m worthless and poison me in a very real way.

So. Rather than being beaten by it, I am fueled by it. I won’t let my guard down. I will fight against it.

That’s what this blog is all about: taking the poison fed to us daily and turning it into a passionate war against negative self image.

At the top of my blog it says, “On Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Self-Acceptance.”

We all have a right to accept ourselves and it ticks me off royally that we live in a society that makes money off of making us believe we can’t ever accept ourselves the way we are.

If all I ever do is write blogs about my struggles with this, that’s fine. If nothing else, at least there’s one more blog out there that speaks positivity and love against negativity and hate.

That’s what this is all about. I hope you’ll join me on the front lines in the war against self hate.


EDIT: And, of course, I have to mention that the name is an obvious nod to one of my favorite record labels, Fueled By Ramen. If I ever get famous enough and they ask me to change the name of my blog, of course I will because they were here first and are way more awesome than I’ll ever be.

on hot baths, spontaneous sushi dates, and letting life happen.

The newest (albeit most sensible) trend in our household amid my quest for domestic perfection is sitting down with my husband on the weekend surrounded by cookbooks and foodie blogs to plan out our meals for the week. Then I make a list and we go grocery shopping for what we need to make said recipes, versus blindly heading down to the store and combing the aisles saying, “That frozen thing looks good. *plop into cart* Hey how about this? You’d eat this, right baby? *plop* We eat fruit out of cans, right? And we always need some sort of pasta!” *plop plop plop*

Novel concept. I know. I should write a book or something.

Then I write on a dry erase board on our fridge what our week looks like via dinner.

Monday: Turkey macaroni casserole
Tuesday: Lemon chicken piccata
Wednesday: Voila
Thursday: Shrimp couscous salad
Friday: Dinan in a pan
Saturday: BBQ

Even though the schedule is merely written in dry erase, my OCD suddenly turns the plastic white board to stone and the marker to engraving. For whatever reason, I can’t seem to let the schedule go. That’s the schedule. Why stray from it, especially if anxiety promises to rear it’s ugly head? No, thank you.

Last night I came home hoping to cry on my husband and then curl up into a ball-o-pity after making a big mistake earlier on in the day (accidentally stumbling across this dream-crushing website) but when I got home, my poor husband was asleep fighting illness.

Well CRAP.

I didn’t want to EAT anything (wah wah wah) let alone put the effort into cooking anything and my poor husband wasn’t up to it, either. But, as he usually does, he spoke love to me by dragging his sickly self out of bed, drawing me a hot bath complete with soothing oils, lighting candles, putting on one of my favorite records, and demanding that after my bath we go out for my favorite food: sushi.

Every inch of my body was in resistance. BUT THE SCHEDULE?!?!?! It’s not sushi night! It’s LEMON CHICKEN PICCATA NIGHT, DARN IT!!!!! How is the world going to continue to revolve if we stray from the SCHEDULE!?!?!

About fifteen minutes into soaking in the bath, I was putty in sushi night’s hands. The schedule could suck it. I’ll make lemon chicken piccata tonight and the world will continue turning.

Sometimes, you just gotta let go and let life.

the foodie diaries: vol 2

The good thing about being married to a man who’s still trudging through college is (do I even have to say this?) financial aid. Thanks to a wad o’ cash (that we’ll have to somehow pay back once he graduates) Dan and I agreed that since I’m trying to actually cook us quality meals that we should probably have some quality cookware. Up until this weekend, everything (that we cook on) in our kitchen was a shabby hand-me-down. Now don’t get me wrong! Getting these for FREE was an amazing blessing. But financial aid provided the opportunity for us to make some much needed upgrades. Observe:

our only skillet. nice, huh? can you see the damage?

the back. yikes.

Here are the new additions to our kitchen!

guest starring: my foot

I grilled some tilapia on them last night and it was AMAZING that they didn’t burn or stick! I didn’t have to spend ages scraping the pan! It was a dream, truly.

OH! And I also finally snagged one of these!

yes! finally!

Yes. It’s true. I didn’t have a slow cooker. I know. This is ridiculous. I wasn’t kidding about my lack of cooking skills and knowledge. I’m definitely a nOOb all the way.

But today I’m letting the slow cooker make us a venison stew with carrots, onions, tomatoes, corn, and beef stock. Why a stew in May? In Florida? Because I have a freezer stuffed full of venison (no seriously — STUFFED) and a fridge overflowing with vegetables and darn it I HAVE A SLOW COOKER.