Perspective, Part II

Every woman has those days when you wake up and look in the mirror and you're happy with yourself and you're looking pretty good, and you think, "Maybe that workout is finally getting me toned up and wow, that new cleanser is doing wonders for my radiant skin! I may be thirtysomething, but I'm a HOT thirtysomething!!"

But more often, there are those days when you wake up and look in the mirror and your heart just sinks because all you see is flab and cellulite and weird moles and random pimples and hair in strange places. Those mornings are depressing. They make you frown a lot and wear slouchy clothes to try to hide everything you hate about your body.

And then there are those days when you see something that puts it all into perspective. Yes, you may not have the body you had when you were 20. Yes, hair grows in places it shouldn't. Yes, you may have pimples. BUT!!! Exercise equipment (or in my case, the neighborhood streets and a couple of friends) can help you feel better about that! Tweezers and Proactiv were created for people like you!! The world does not end because of bad hair days!!! And chances are good that you will never, ever, ever look like this...


see more Fail Blog

...because you are smart enough to know when enough is ENOUGH.

When it comes right down to it, I would be ungrateful to complain about the body that I have. All kidding aside, I have a body that gets me where I want to go. I can move and run and dress myself and feed myself and play with my kids and ride on a roller coaster and do pretty much anything I want to do. And when I get dressed up, I think I look pretty good. SO WHAT if I don't look like Cindy Crawford. I can live my life and enjoy everything I do. I'm FREE.

On a side note, I've also vowed to never buy short shorts from Aeropostale!!! You would do well to follow my lead.

How much more can 24 hours hold?

Not that I want to find out. It's a rhetorical question.

Yesterday, my sis-in-law Angelica and my brother Cameron had the scare of their lives in the form of the birth of their new son, Caleb. Caleb was fine, but Angie was not and she ended up having to have emergency surgery--basically to save her life. She has some serious recovery time ahead of her, but we're glad she's safe. And now we have this little one in our family...



...and I got to hold him yesterday. (I'm so d*mn baby hungry I can't even stand it.)

This morning, bright and early, I dropped Carter off at Kim's house and went to my new job. Wow. This will be an interesting year. More about that later.

After work, I got home, put Carter down for a nap and then found out that my dad was admitted to the hospital this afternoon. He has numbness in his face, and after a few tests the doctors found that his heart is working much harder than it should be under normal circumstances. So they admitted him to do some tests, find out what's up, and hopefully prevent any other problems. Dad's not famous for taking very good care of himself, so maybe this will be a good thing for him--scare him into exercising once in a while and NOT putting an entire stick of butter on his toast in the morning. You know, baby steps.

Anyway, I'm kind of glad this day is drawing to a close and hoping nothing else gets thrown our way. But considering the fragile and unpredictable nature of life, I'm not getting my hopes up too high!

Story of my Life.

Unnecessary furor.

Seriously, people? (And by "people," I mean ultra-conservative right wingers.)

He's the PRESIDENT.

He wants kids to STAY IN SCHOOL and GET AN EDUCATION.

Get your facts straight, and get off your high horses.

You are making yourselves look paranoid and ridiculous.

And by the way, those "Despite-your-political-preference-the-president-deserves-respect" arguments you threw around during the last administration work when the president is a Democrat, too.

Teach THAT to your children, please. Preferably by example.

On joining the ranks.

This Tuesday, I will join the ranks of the gainfully employed. Well, sort of. The pay isn't going to stop traffic, and it will only be part-time. But I will be doing something that will make a difference...I hope.

I will be starting at Jordan Valley Elementary as a special education preschool assistant.

I know. Whoa.

And this position allows me to get my teaching license.

Yowza.

I think it's funny how life comes full circle. Growing up, all I wanted to be was a teacher, mostly so I could write on the blackboard all day. When I went to junior college, I had other more responsible reasons for wanting to teach. But after I got an associate's degree with an emphasis on elementary ed, I decided that teaching was maybe not what I wanted to do with my life.

And now, here I am. When I was going to school again this last time, I thought about getting my teaching license. But paying for the 15 extra classes (and going to school for another year and a half, at least) didn't seem like the thing to do at the time. However, with this job, licensure is a distinct possiblity and this time it seems like a reasonable goal.

I am excited--and scared, and worried, and overwhelmed, and a little sick to my stomach--about this opportunity. It will be a good thing--yet another twist in my twisted life, a curveball I didn't see coming. But an adventure, nonetheless!

Inspired by a pioneer woman and little rat named Remy.

The movie "Ratatouille" is Carter's latest obsession.



He quotes it at random times and begs to watch it at least once a day. His favorite character this week is Anton Ego, the terrifyingly evil food critic who feels that his mission in life is to shut down Gusteau's restaurant. Last week, he said, "Mom, I want to be like him when I grow up." Silently, I thought "What, terrifying? Evil?" But to my relief, he followed up his surprise declaration with, "I want to be a food critic."

Again my thoughts took over and I started to wonder, "Don't you have to actually EAT food in order to be a food critic?!" Because lately getting Carter to eat a meal is like declaring war--a world war that would last forever if not for the lengthy negotiations, diplomacy, and treaties.

So today, when he told me he wanted to eat rataouille--the EXACT ratatouille shown in the movie, thank you very much--I hastily agreed. Pretty veggies all lined up and baked? DONE.

I found a recipe for Ratatouille's Ratatouille on a site called Smitten Kitchen. (Find the recipe here.) And then, in true Pioneer Woman style, I decided to document the entire process in pictures. (If you haven't visited her site, GO. NOW. I'LL WAIT.)

Can I just say that I love slicing veggies? And cooking? And I LOVE it when food is pretty. So today's meal was nirvana for me.

Start with this.


Super-thinly sliced yellow squash, zuchini, eggplant, and red bell pepper. (Yes, I know a mandoline would be easier/faster, but I don't have one and slicing veggies is therapeutic for me.)

In a baking dish, mix together tomato puree, thinly sliced onions and garlic, salt and pepper and a little olive oil.


Start lining the outside of the dish with a circular row of veggies, alternating them in a visually pleasing pattern. Then fill in the gap in the middle. You should end up with this.



Drizzle the top with a little more olive oil, then sprinkle with salt, pepper, and some thyme.



Cut some parchment paper to fit snugly inside the dish, then bake at 375 degrees for about 45 minutes.


When you can't stand the delicious smell anymore, pull it out of the oven.



Doesn't that look DIVINE?! Carter loved the way it looked...he asked to look at it about 50 times before I actually served it, and he peeked at the leftovers in the fridge again right before he went to bed.

I served it with some whole wheat pasta and bread I baked yesterday. But you can eat it alone, with couscous or rice, or however you think you'd like it.



The true test: Carter ate it. And tonight during bedtime prayers, the first thing he said was, "Heavenly Father, I'm thankful we could have ratatouille today."

Ahhhh, the scrumptious smell of victory.

Bittersweet

Last week, I took a whirlwind trip to Tennessee. My Uncle Rick, whom I wrote about a little before I left, passed away unexpectedly. My mom and dad were nice enough to use their frequent flier miles to buy me a plane ticket so I could go to the funeral and spend time with the family.

Being back east again was strange for a lot of reasons. First and most important reason: my Uncle Rick, the most quietly kind and comforting person you'd ever meet, was gone. I was staying at his house, but he wasn't there anymore. It felt empty, even though the house was packed to capacity. (Aunt Linda asked all of us, including her sons who live 20 minutes away from her, to stay at the house.) I missed him. A lot.

Second reason: I was there for a funeral so I thought I ought to have been sad all the time. But I wasn't, and I feel kind of guilty for that. I was just so darn happy to be surrounded by my mom's family! We are all spread out over the U.S. (Washington, Minnesota, Tennessee, Utah.....) and we hardly ever get to see each other, so being in the same house together for four whole days felt like a happy reunion instead of a sad one.

Third reason: I felt like I had come back home. I lived with my aunt and uncle for a year, so coming back to the house and to the Tennessee hills brought back so many good memories and made me ache for how much I love it there.

It was a busy four days, and so much of it was sad, but there were some amazingly good moments, too--meeting Lydia and seeing Stephanie again (it kills me that they live so far away!); holding baby Leif; watching in wonder as my "little" cousin Randy, all grown up and married now, took control of the preparations and still kept one eye on his mom at all times to make sure she was ok; long catch-up conversations with Alan and Ryan....and Mark and Kamie and Brit, too!; a much-needed pedicure from Krissy; hugging and talking to my Aunt Linda; hanging out with my mom; and of course, the impromptu Abba dance party during lunch after the graveside service to honor Rick's varied musical tastes. He would have loved that.

All in all, the most perfect definition of "bittersweet."


This is the only funeral picture I'll post, just because the casket spray was absolutely gorgeous.


Ryan's tribute to Rick's sometimes-iffy footwear choices.


Mark, Mom, Kamie, and Brit in Atlanta after we found each other in the airport by accident and discovered we were all flying into Johnson City together. God works in mysterious ways. It's true.


Me + Leif + Aunt Linda's back porch = perfect peace.




Our one release: a visit to the Carter Family Fold in Virginia. We listened to old-time music, danced, and relaxed. A nice ending to a hard and emotional week. (Thanks for being brave, Mom and Steph and Lydia!)


Twilight in the Appalachian mountains, outside the Carter Fold. It makes my heart stand still.