Finally... Some Honesty

Maybe it's a biological response to the recent arrival of cooler fall weather, or the enabling effects of its accompanying bulky sweaters/stretchy leggings but my body seems to be hanging on to every single calorie I ingest these days.

Okay so I didn't exactly avoid the recent influx in the Halloween candy supply at our office. And yes, my hot chocolate consumption has drastically increased lately. But still, for how faithful I've been to my spin bike, you'd think those calories would be negated by now!

Anyway, while engaging in some embarrassing google searches that may or may not have contained the words "Victoria's Secret model" and "diet" I came across this recent article.


 http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/11/07/victorias-secret-angel-diet_n_1079315.html

Let's all just take a moment to applaud this wonderful, saintly vixen of a woman for actually being honest about what it actually requires to look like she does.

I am sick to death of models insisting that they achieve their stunning physiques by "eating a handful of nuts and raisins for a snack", or  "going to pilates class twice a week". Then there's my personal favorite- "I stay active by chasing my kids around!" Give me a break, ladies.

That's why I was thrilled to read this article. Because what Adriana puts herself through pre-fashion show?

I absolutely could. not. do.

And I am fine with that. Why? Because I'm sick of eating a small handful of trail mix, doing a couple laps around the living room with a small child then looking down, puzzled at my still present cottage cheese adorned thighs, wondering what is wrong with me. What am I missing!? Should I be throwing up while chasing around the kids? And how is Giselle's trail mix different than mine? (Answer- because it's laced with nicotine and able to be inhaled via cigarette.) It's quite demoralizing. But with this refreshing new light shed on Adriana's workout, I have assured myself that if I really wanted to look like her, I could. All I'd have to do is work out twice a day for three straight months, drink a small creek's worth of water, and only ingest food in liquid form.

I just don't want to.

For now I'm okay with 30 minutes on my trusty Schwin spin bike. Followed by a costco sized bag of trail mix. Dang it.

Hip Hop Critic: My Calling in Life?

Today I met an aspiring Hip-Hop artist in the Wal Mart Parking lot. This is nothing out of the ordinary. I have a feeling that the West Phoenix "Mercado de Walmart" is host to much of Hip-Hop's aspiring talent. However, this morning as I was unloading my grocery bags into the car, a tricked out jeep pulled up into the parking slot next to me, unashamedly blasting something I can only assume would be played in a Miami night club. The bass was pumped up so high I'm pretty sure the pavement was shaking a little bit. Now, maybe this is just me, but whenever a car's windows are rolled up, I don't feel the need to acknowledge the person inside. It's almost like the person and car are one anonymous being you can ignore. But this car's windows were rolled down, making it a whole different story. I felt compelled to glance up and smile at the driver. It would have been awkward not to- unless I were completely deaf, it was obvious that I knew he was there. He got really excited and flashed a gap toothed (but very white) smile back at me.

Then he beckoned me over to the jeep. What did I do? Scampered right over, of course. Who am I to disobey someone who's music choice featured the lyrics "imma blow dis club up o'er 'errbody" or something like that.

He introduced himself as "Jus' Arion", one of the valley's rising Hip-Hop stars. He asked if I liked Hip Hop and I responded with "as much, if not more, as any white girl around here..."

He laughed and asked me to listen to his new song and give some honest feedback. "Okay..", I agreed. "But I mean, I don't know how much help I'll be. I don't really have high standards when it comes to music..."

He laughed and began playing (well, blasting- his speakers only seemed to have one volume- very loud) his new (future) hit single. As it played, I wasn't quite sure what to do. Should I sort of bob my head in time to the beat? Should I sort of close my eyes, sway my head and throw up gang signs? Attempt to crip walk? I settled with the first option, and subtly nodded my head with a serious look on my face, trying to look as "hood" possible, despite the fact that I was wearing Yellowstone sweats and holding a bag of Goldfish Crackers.

When it was done, he asked me for my honest opinion.


I told him I really liked it. (Actually, I really did.) I told him that if the song were to come on the radio, I definitely wouldn't change it. Then he asked me if there were any parts I didn't like. I told him to maybe take out the part where he rhymes "pubix" with "rubix". I don't even know what a "pubix" is, but it doesn't sound nice. He laughed and told me he was thinking the same thing.

Soooo... if by some chance "Jus Arion" somehow rises to the top of Hip-Hop fame, I will be able to say that I met him in the West Phoenix Wal Mart Parking lot and provided him some constructive criticism. Let's just hope he takes my advice to heart, because if I'm listening to the radio someday and hear the word "pubix", I'm gonna be really upset.

I Think It's Been a Good Day...

Why has today been particularly enjoyable?

1. I woke up and ran 4 miles. On the treadmill. Honestly, I'm pretty sure that without decreasing the speed, I could have walked the entire thing and not fallen off the back. And yes, falling off the back of the treadmill is definitely a possibility; it has happened. More than once. But much worse is when the treadmill speed decreases suddenly without your knowledge, sending you careening into the front of the machine at breakneck speed. Or, in my case, a breezy 6 miles an hour.

Engaging in this particular form of exercise is a huge deal for me.

Unfortunately, so is my butt these days.

Which leads me to accomplishment 2.

2. I received a box of Kirkland Signature brand chocolates from my boss as a gift yesterday. (I later found out that they were left over from Christmas '10- still, chocolates don't go bad do they?) They sat perched atop our coffee table all of last night, tempting me with their plaid ribbon adorned decadence. Today? After eating one, I repeat ONE chocolate piece, I threw the entire box away. Into the big garbage. (I've been known to lose willpower and dig things out of the trash before.) For most people this act would be considered wasteful and foolish instead of a victory. But sometimes pre-commitment is necessary and I just don't trust myself to treat the box like a normal person and enjoy one chocolate a day for a few months. Those babies would have ended up slapped onto my hips by tonight. And I'm sorry, but it would take many an hour on the treadmill to undo that damage. 40 minutes today is plenty for me.

3. I finally got my hair did. I will post pictures later, but I've had a really hard time doing the arm stretch self portrait technique today. I tried to send Brock a picture of my hair at work and I ended up somehow looking like an angry pedophile. My pet peeve about hair salons is this: they are always so vague about prices. You look online and a partial weave is listed as starting at $70. Okay, I can live with that. I assumed that if the price was going to be higher, due to extra product usage, they would let me know first right? Wrong. When all the foil folding, washing and trimming was done, I was presented with a whopping $130 bill! What the...? How did that happen? Don't you think the stylist should have warned me that when she mixed an extra bowl of bleach the cost was gonna double? And due to the 4 years I spent in the restaurant industry, I pride myself on my generosity when it comes to tips. You know, karma and all. So after a 20% tip, I was out the door $160 poorer. But... I refuse to let this get me down. I really like how my hair turned out, and I have definitely learned my lesson. Any place that gives you a hand massage during your conditioning treatment and applies lip gloss to your lips post blow dry (so awkward) is gonna be pricey.

4. My parents are coming to visit on Wednesday!!! Sorry to get so cheesy- 3 exclamation marks in a row? But really, I am thrilled to have visitors. If moving away has made me realize one thing, it's how much I love and miss my family. We are trying to think of some fun things to do while they're here, but we'll probably just end up doing a lot of relaxing. Which sounds perfect to me. While I'm on the note of family, I also had lunch with my cute cousin Rachel who is attending ASU. She told me all about her college life adventures and I told her all about... well, I didn't have much to contribute. If this blog's content is any indicator, nothing too exciting is happening to me these days. Ha.

5. Luckily the weather is finally starting to cool down. I can't believe I consider a high of 83 degrees as "cool". But I think we've got some really nice months ahead of us. I drove all the way to my hair appointment with the car windows down, blasting my music enjoying the morning sun and freeway induced breeze. For the first time, I actually felt glad to be in Arizona, weather wise. I still miss my hoodies though. Maybe in January....

Cliff Dwelling's What We're All About

Brock and I decided to take a much needed day trip up to Flagstaff this past week. For those not so familiar with the layout of Arizona (I'm assuming most of you,) Flagstaff is about 2 hours north of Phoenix, 7,000 feet higher and most importantly, 30 degrees cooler. Once we got there, I completely forgot that we were still surrounded by the vast South West desert; everything was so green and beautiful. I felt like I was in Yellowstone or somewhere equally as vegetation rich. (In fact, the whole time I might have pretended I was...) I was also able to sport a particular Carolyn classic- my gray hoodie- a favorite articles of clothing that I sadly haven't been able to touch since July. (Seriously, even looking at long sleeves make me start to sweat some days.) Somehow nature just has this way of making me feel so good. No matter what is going on in life, a deep breath of fresh air always makes everything better. Who needs Prozac when you've got the mountains?

Here are some pictures from the day:

 Presenting... Mormon Lake. Ta-da! Impressive, isn't it? Totally worth the 40 minute drive, right? Just kidding. This "lake" was quite the enigma. Although it has it's own signs on the freeway, webpage and small village complete with a town lodge and a jam-packed KOA, Brock and I failed to see what the hype was all about. I mean, it's basically a swamp right? I just don't get what so many RVs and boats were doing camped out on its banks... What were they all planning on doing? Mud masks? Maybe a mud wrestling competition? Or perhaps the members of Mormon Lake Village haven't been paying their tithing...? 

 We decided that the degree to which you can see this lake is a direct reflection of your degree of righteousness. So although it wasn't the overflowing reservoir a temple president might see, we were proud to see a little moisture down there.

 After visiting the highly anti-climactic Mormon Lake, we went to some sort of state park which features an entire cliff full of Anasazi dwelling ruins. I typically feel that any picture with no people is pointless, unless it's an artistic gem (which this certainly is not.) But this kind of gives you an idea of what was going on there.

 When we got to the visitor's center, Brock told the old, mustache adorned man behind the ticket counter that we were interested in hiking and seeing the cliff dwellings. His enthusiastic response? "Well, you've come to the right place folks! Cliff dwelling's what we're all about here!"And that's when we knew that the day had been a success. We re-quoted that line for the rest of the day.

 I posted this picture for two reasons. 1. To demonstrate this beautifully crafted and preserved Anasazi cliff dwelling. 2. I think my legs look misleadingly thin in this picture (a rarity these days, I'm afraid), and I felt it would be a pity not to post it.

 Once again, I am fascinated by my body and it's ability to so closely resemble Gumby's. Stretchy, bendy and gooey all at once. It does showcase the hoodie nicely though.

 Brock demonstrating an ancient Anasazi war pose. Anasazis often wore cargo shorts and plaid button downs, I've heard. 

I was pretending to pose by this small door/window, but really I was just taking a much needed rest. This little hike required far too much stair climbing for my current fitness level. Brock and I spent 3/4 of our time here discussing the purchases of Weight Watchers subscriptions and home gym equipment. Between huffing, puffing and gasping for air, of course.

 All in all, it was a great trip. I'm planning on writing a hefty tithing check, deleting a few rap songs from my iTunes and giving Mormon Lake another go. This time, with the Jet Skis.

The Principal/Principle of the Thing...

As the official "HR Person" at my work, my job includes keeping track of all employees' personnel files. These files contain the usual documents: social security cards, W-4 forms, background checks etc.

The other day I was informed that a certain employee had been terminated due to having "questionable documents" in his file.

So of course, I had to look.

What did I find? A forged high school diploma.

How did I know it was forged? Only because it had been signed by the school's "principle".

Seriously, I'll give the guy credit-- he must have spent hours creating this gem on Microsoft Publisher. It looked like any other photocopied high school diploma. He even incorporated a little school seal and some sort of official looking watermark. But then he had to ruin it by adding that signature line...

So the moral of this story? Stay in school, kids. If only to gain the knowledge needed to successfully forge a document later in life- even a high school education pays off.

Housewife of the Year (Or at Least the Month of September...)

Disclaimer: the following post consists mostly of me bragging about my new found "house-wiving" skills. It also contains incriminating details about the kind of music I listen to when Brock is not home. Basically, read at your own risk. (I'm sorry, I am just really proud right now and feel the need to brag via Blogger.)

Due to Brock's new work schedule, I am now spending every Saturday husband less. This doesn't thrill me, but I have decided to make the best of it by actually using the time constructively. Let me explain. I don't know if it's because we're newlyweds and still just thrilled to be around each other or what, but for some reason I feel like when Brock is around, I never seem to get anything done! I think it is because since we both work full time, we only get to spend a few hours together every day; neither one of us is about to spend that valuable time vacuuming crushed goldfish crackers off the floor or folding the laundry. Yes, we've been living out of a heap of clean laundry that's been piled on top of the living room chair for a week now. And yes, there has been a ground up goldfish cracker underneath the coffee table for a few days too. Hey, if were still in one piece there's no way it would still be there. I'm a firm believer in the "5 day" rule. 

So I took advantage of today as an opportunity to make some progress on the cleanliness/hygiene of our apartment. I literally tackled every square inch of this place (which isn't actually all that many). Okay, maybe not every inch, but you better believe this place is looking great now. I (gasp) actually moved the couches and vacuumed underneath them. Yeah, I know. Big time. That goldfish cracker, along with some other gems (fruit snacks...bobby pins...hairballs) are all history. And the bathroom? Let's just say that I'm actually considering a bath tonight. This wouldn't mean much if I wasn't completely disgusted by baths. There is something about marinating in a puddle of my own lukewarm filth that really sicks me out. Or maybe I've just never had a clean enough tub. So back to cleaning- I even dusted. As in, the inch thick layer of dust that used to reside on top of the tv, dressers and pretty much all other horizontal surfaces in the house has now been replaced with smooth, shiny cleanliness. And apparently taking out both bathroom trash cans actually makes a difference in how the entire place smells. Imagine that!

A few hours (and an air freshener purchase) later, the apartment was looking (and smelling) fabulous. I figured I might as well not waste this fabulous momentum, so I continued the domestic streak by applying my energy to the kitchen. An hour later, these babies appeared. Yes, you are looking at homemade whole grain banana nut muffins, my friends. With cream cheese frosting. (I don't know if frosting is a typical muffin component, but everything is better with cream cheese frosting.) I'd like to add some extra emphasis to the words "homemade" (no Krusteaz muffin mix for this domestic goddess) and"whole grain" (because anything made with whole grains is healthy, even if it's slathered in cream cheese frosting and cinnamon sugar, right?)

Admittedly, this painfully amateur photo is actually the best of multiple shots. I don't know how these "pro food bloggers" seem to get such appetizing shots of their culinary creations! 

I'd like to pay a quick tribute to what really made today's feats possible: my stretch leggings from Costco and the fabulous new mix on my iPod. Kirkland really knows how to make a pair of pants, I'll tell you that. Somehow these guys suck in the trouble spots while still allowing breathable comfort. And somehow they make me feel like I could do the splits if I really wanted to. But I just don't want to. ;) I never could have squatted behind the toilet for so long without them. Oh, and by "new mix" I definitely don't mean mix of new songs. Let's just say there is no way I could have cleaned for 3 hours straight without a mix containing the winning combination of Wilson Phillips, Keith Sweat and songs found on the Goofy Movie Soundtrack. Had Brock been here today to witness this musical selection, I doubt he'd ever let me live it down. I'm still getting crap from the time I suggested we bump some Maroon 5 on a road trip...

If I were more confident in my cooking skills, I'd post the muffin recipe. However, I got the recipe off the back of a yogurt container, which I may or may not be able to cite as a credible source. Also, I haven't actually tasted them yet. I was so smitten by the fact that they actually slid right out of the muffin tin, yet didn't come out charred, that I kinda wanted to bask in the moment for a while. 

I can't wait for Brock to come home to be greeted by a clean, Febreeze scented apartment with a plate of muffins and a spandex clad wife waiting for him. And possibly a little Keith Sweat. 

The Situation in Which I Will Never Be a “Cool Wife”

For the most part, I consider myself a pretty cool wife. I keep the fridge stocked with Costco hotdogs, I give a mean full back scratch (as opposed to the all-too-common partial back scratch which consists of repeadedly running the fingernails across the same two inches of skin, practically burrowing a hole through the shirt) and I actually enjoy watching shows on Comedy Central. I can quote Dave Chappell with the best of ‘em! (Well, my accent might be a bit off…)

But when it comes to the sport of football, I will just never be cool.

I absolutely hate football.

I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t. But I do. Maybe it’s because I’ve never played it myself, and therefore don’t appreciate the skill involved. Maybe it’s because I was too busy flirting/socializing during my own high school football games to actually learn the rules. I guess I just don’t see how the things the players are doing are that impressive. I mean, in baseball I find it amazing that the players are actually to use a wooden bat to make contact with a ball moving over 90 mps. In basketball, it fascinates me that those players can run for hours non-stop, and consistently shoot the ball into a foot-wide hoop. In football? I just don’t see what is so impressive about a bunch of fat people crashing into eachother. And that only lasts about 3 seconds. Then everyone gets to rest for 5 minutes. 

 

Anyway, a few nights ago the Arizona Cardinals hosted the Denver Broncos in a pre-season football game. Since it was a pre-season game, tickets were available for literally $3. So of course, we had to go.

Honestly, here are my problems with football.

1.     Why does the game have to be SO long? I mean, the fact that it takes an hour to get through a 15 minute quarter is just ridiculous. But if that’s how the game is played, why can’t they switch these 15 minute quarters to 15 minute halves? The game would still be a good two hours. Which is still plenty long, in my book.

2.    Why is there more time-out than time-in? I’m not kidding, WAY more time is spent huddling/discussing plays/standing there than actual play time. The second things actually get exciting, the whistle blows and the clock stops. And the huddling resumes.

3.     Why isn’t the football brightly colored? I mean, at this particular stadium, the goal posts have been painted bright yellow-green. I assume this is so they can be easily seen, right? Well, why can’t they spray paint the ball this color? Because I personally don’t think I actually saw the football once down there. This can probably be blamed on our nosebleed seats, but still- I can’t even see the ball when it’s on HDTV! The players have it cradled up all secretly in their arms when they’re running with it. Then they throw it so far and fast, I have no idea it’s even moved.

In hindsight the game was actually pretty fun, but not because of the game itself. We met up with our friends Greg and Lindsey Smart. Luckily Lindsey and I are on the same page when it comes to football so we were able to spend the last half of the game discussing important matters, like the outcome of last Monday’s “Bachelor Pad” episode. Plus, the people-watching was great. I’ve never seen so many belted jerseys worn as sexy mini-dresses. Here are a couple of pictures from the evening. 

 Despite having worn my glasses, I still couldn't tell what was going on down there.

 Greg and Lindsey. I was jealous that Lindsey looked so stylish and cute.

 Token "boys picture".

 And yes, the token "girls picture".