Doggy Parenthood, Part II

Greetings!

I meant to work on this over the weekend but then was set upon by an acute case of laziness.

Here I am now though!

I think the main reason why I took so long to finally write a blog post about my little Chipwich was because…well, adopting her wasn’t a walk in the park (see what I kind of did there?).

It truly was touch and go for the first month—I was pretty certain at least a few times that we were going to have return her to the shelter.

I thought it would probably would be awkward blogging about adopting a dog and then be like “Just kidding—Chip? Who’s Chip?” *discreetly deletes past blog posts with mentions of Chip*

Let’s start with the not so fun part—but very real—part of our life post adoption.

Adopting a dog is a big deal.

It’s a routine and life changer. It’s the little things that you don’t truly realize will alter until after you’re an official dog owner.

• Uninterrupted night’s sleep? Gone. Chip preferred breakfast at 6:00 am, not 7:00 am, and sometimes enjoyed jumping on our heads at 3:00 am.

  

• Making spur of the moment happy hour plans? Nope, there is a creature waiting at home, who literally can’t go to the bathroom without you.

  

• Casually kicking off your shoes by the couch? Lolz. Good bye, new beautiful sandals.

  

• Before: “No thanks, Grocery Clerk—I’ll use my own bag.” Now: “BY THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, PLEASE DOUBLE BAG AND NOT CHARGE ME A NICKEL FOR EACH ONE.”

  

• Maintaining a newly re-decorated living room? Hilarious—your rug is unraveling in the upper corner from curious canine nibbles; the couch slipcovers are covered in rawhide residue that can’t seem to come out; and your coffee table was slowly losing centimeters until you put a stop to it by blocking the chewed edge with a water cooler.

  

Adopting Chip also upset the everyday balance of Boyfriend’s and my relationship. As you may remember from Part I, I launched quite the emotional campaign to win Boyfriend’s compliance to get a dog.

So, it was rough that the first couple of weeks with Chip included:

• Apartment building and neighbor complaints galore regarding her separation anxiety induced barking;
• Resistance to going on walks and preferring to use the area behind our couch as her deluxe privy;
• Juggling who would regularly walk and feed her;
• And let’s not forget the added expenses of vet bills, kibble, and dog treats.

You may ask: you didn’t expect vet bills? Oh yes, I was ready for the usual wellness checkup and anti-heartworm and tick medications. What I wasn’t prepared for was paying for a round of expensive antibiotics (Chip picked up a bacterial infection from the shelter) and a trip to the pet Emergency Room (DO NOT BUY NYLABONES, FOLKS).

It also didn’t help that Chip wasn’t too keen on men. Something must have happened to Chip before we adopted her involving a man. She would violently cower away from any man who tried to pet her on her walks—well, her daily drags since I had to bodily pull Chip around since she was too scared to move her legs.

Guy after guy would try and approach to meet her, and every time you would’ve thought that he was the Antichrist arisen—judging from Chip’s reaction. It got to the point where I would just be like, “It’s not you, it’s…No, actually it is you. Sorry, dude.”

At home, she avoided Boyfriend like the plague.

On top of all that, we realized that we would never be alone again. Gone were Boyfriend and Girlfriend only snuggles. Chip allowed no cuddling to continue without her. If I gave Boyfriend a hug or a kiss, Chip would launch herself like a furry missile and use her head as a battering ram to bodily move Boyfriend away from me.

Adorable.

She had been quietly chewing on a toy until she noticed us snuggling.

In short, the first month of life with Chip included:

• Constant anxiety over receiving daily complaints from our apartment building,
• Dealing with ongoing doggy accidents,
• Shelling out money for unforeseen doggy expenses,
• And having spats with Boyfriend over the unnecessary complication that I added to our daily lives—with Chip giving him stank eye from the corner.

I can’t claim that something magically clicked. But, things got better.

Chip got the hang of potty training. She stopped barking every time that we left the apartment—she put two and two together that we would always come home to her. And, it didn’t hurt that I made chocolate chip cookies with cutesy apology notes from Chip to all of our neighbors and our building super.

Yeah, I’m pretty lame.

We’ve mostly adjusted to our Life Post Chip routine and communicate better if one of us has something going on after work or after school. Chip hasn’t had a medical issue in a little while.

The best breakthrough was that she has bonded with Boyfriend. He now receives just as many kisses as I do. Whenever she hears him walking down the hallway about to enter the apartment, her tail starts wagging like mad and starts squealing with excitement as he enters through the door. It’s now common for me to find them spooning together.

Chip loves Red Zone snuggle time.

You could say that we’ve become a wolf pack.

Lately, I keep thinking back to the terrified Chip we first brought home to Present Day Chip.

This was Chip’s shelter picture.

Our current Chip is a happy girl who loves chewing rawhide bones and sticks, chasing birds, and meeting new dogs and people. She gives kisses to anyone that puts his or her face close enough and wags her tail effusively. At the dog park, she races around and wrestles with dogs of all sizes—sometimes we even worry she’s become a bit of the playground bully.

Boyfriend and I now squabble over who gets to cuddle with Chip on the couch—she’s fine either way. Whenever I have a rough day, she immediately clambers on my lap and starts licking my frown.

Her ribs no longer show, and she no longer has patches of fur missing. We constantly get compliments on what a beauty she is. We also get comments on what a good dog she is and how lucky we are to have found her.

She still enjoys waking up at 6:23 am and thinks Grumpy Lizzie calling her a “she-demon” early in the morning is hilarious.

She still loves to chew all the things, but we’re better now about anticipating her behavior. She’s also remains not a huge fan of loud truck noises or sidewalk grates.

This is probably what’s going on in Chip’s mind.
Which, in all fairness, is quite terrifying.

She’s quirky—she’ll always be quirky. And that’s okay because she’s our dog.

While I think adopting a dog should be carefully considered, I love our Chocolate Chip with all my heart and can’t imagine life without her.

To end on a cheesy note but one that holds very true for me:

Tschüss!

Sie Lizzie D

Doggy Parenthood, Part I

Hello Friends!

When Ian smiles, I smile.

Now this is getting ridiculous, where did September go??!!

I want to start off with thanks. Thank you for the out-pouring of love and support for my mum. Your kind words meant so much to my family, and while it was a difficult blog post to write and then hit ‘publish’, I am very grateful to your reception to it.

Since I last wrote, I turned the ripe old age of 27—even though most days I feel like a 15 year old trapped in an adult’s body.

I visited my Seestur Lala and Bruder Krut in the land of OH-IO where we had the best time reuniting and acting as hooligans together.

Then, Seestur Kitty Kat and I gently jogged a 5k to raise money for ovarian cancer research. Due to Seestur Kat’s serious campaigning skills, we raised $2,290. Which is a lot coming from the girls who as Girl Scouts only asked our parents and grandparents to order cookies from us.

Again, huge thanks are in order for the friends and family who financially contributed to our 5k team. Your generosity meant a great deal. We’re truly very touched.

THEN, I had a work conference which consumed my mind and soul; October rolled around; and now Boyfriend and I will be out of town this weekend for a wedding.

I guess that rambling introduction was my justification of why I haven’t blogged. Also, I have been cooking the same recipes over and over again, so that doesn’t help if you technically have a cooking blog.

But really, I’ve been having a slight mental block when it comes to blogging because I feel like I always must tell a grand story.

Moving forward, I’ve decided that I’ll share little snippets of random thoughts and/or encounters that I have and not worry about it being a majestic opus so that you hear from me more. And, I may or may not write about food. But, I swear I’ll get more organized and share new recipes soon!

First things first, I never informed you that Boyfriend and I adopted a dog. Well, we’re actually not sure if she’s a dog. She might be a puppy still—more on that later.

Meet Chocolate Chip. Family and friends call her Chip.

We think she is part Lab, part Shar Pei, part Bull Terrier, a dash of Pitbull (if I’m going to be honest), and a sprinkling of Gremlin.

But let’s backtrack, shall we?

If you want to know one fact about me, I love animals. I am always that creepy person in the corner of a party snuggling the cat…

Or, on a walk, becoming BFFs with a stranger’s dog.

When Boyfriend and I first began our cohabitation, I thought the adoption of a dog was imminent. And then…”we” thought it would be more responsible to wait. Which meant no pup. No furry baby to call my own. And I saw people with dogs everywhere. As Spring 2015 rolled around, it was emotionally paining me to see people out and about, romping with their dogs.

How dare you taunt me with your happy life and beautiful dog!

Finally, I broke down to Boyfriend over the 4th of July weekend and plead my case for a dog. Boyfriend’s heart is not made of stone so he relented.

I actively started stalking the website of the Washington Animal Rescue League. I went to the shelter at least two times on my own to scope out the selection of dogs. There was a plethora of cute dogs, and I wanted to take all the pups home.

But, many of the dogs that matched my personality (yes, I took the dog-owner personality survey – I am an Orange) were over our apartment building weight limit of 40 lbs.

For the third visit, Boyfriend came to check out the pups, and I think the shelter volunteer could sense my growing despair that we hadn’t found “The One” yet. Though she probably wasn’t allowed to, she showed us a kennel of three dogs who were perfectly fine but were not open to the public yet since they needed to be spayed. All three jumped at the door and licked at our hands and faces. There was an especially cute three-legged dog.

It was glorious.

But then, we saw this face for the first time.

Well, Boyfriend saw her first. And the quote of the first Chip sighting was Boyfriend squealing, “Lizzie! Lizzie! The little black one?!! Yeah?! Yeah??!!!”

She was petite – 18 pounds- and was already 10 months old; we were confident that even with a growth spurt she would remain under 40 lbs. More important, she was adorable and seemed to love giving kisses.

Once Chip was spayed and had recovered, we were first in line when the shelter opened to make sure that no one else adopted Chip before us.

We requested to have one-on-one time with her, and I thought it was going to be like Christmas morning.

And, for lack of a better word, she was weird. Really weird. Once she was outside her kennel, she froze and became Catatonic Dog.

Once we brought her back to her kennel, she immediately started giving us kisses again. I was like, “Aw, she just got overwhelmed.” Boyfriend was like:

I went ahead and started the adoption process for her anyway. I don’t know what to say other than I just had a gut feeling. She was the peanut butter to our jelly. She was our lobster. She just was a bit of a freak show baby.

It didn’t help that when the pet behavior specialist later called me for my “interview”…I got the sense that I was being pitched to adopt Chip rather than being quizzed on whether or not I would be a good dog parent.

Finally, the specialist came out with the truth. “Well, I should probably let you know that Chip…Well, she failed her personality and behavior test. She froze and wouldn’t move away from the corner because she was so terrified of the trainer. So, we labeled her as a Purple and called it a day.”

Chip probably thought the trainer was a raptor trying to eat her.

When Boyfriend got home and asked me how the interview went, I was like, “Well, the specialist said that Chip is shy, but with some TLC, she’ll be A-OK!”

We were approved by the shelter, and we were finally able to pick Chip up and take her home. I had the apartment set up; I had read books on dogs having psychotic breaks; I rented a Zipcar; I had chopped hot dogs galore – this pup was going to love me or else.

We arrived at the shelter, sailed through the final paperwork, and the shelter worker went to fetch Chip. Boyfriend and I were in the pet supplies shop because I wanted to fit a harness to our little Chippy baby.

Next thing I know, the worker came rushing in with Chip in her arms. Chip looked so adorable that I didn’t notice at first that CHIP’S NOSE WAS BATHED IN BLOOD.

When the worker tried to remove Chip from her kennel, one of her kennel mates attacked her and deeply scratched Chip’s snout. Boyfriend whispered to me, “Bet it was Tripod.”

The worker immediately took Chip to the veterinary clinic to get her checked out. As time slipped by, I was slowly getting more and more upset. The worker came back out to let us know that Chip was being examined. We overheard her telling her coworker, “I moved the three-legged dog to quarantine.”

Boyfriend then murmured, “How does it feel knowing that Chip got whupped by a three-legged dog?”

The vet tech came back out to us and said that they were worried that Chip needed stitches, and the veterinarian wouldn’t be back until the morning. They had given Chip medicine to help with the pain, but she had to stay overnight for supervision. She wasn’t coming home with us just yet.

They let us see her in in the vet clinic, and we were able to pet her and feed her hot dog bits. Chip was very friendly because she either a) remembered us from before and recalled that we weren’t murderous raptors, b) was high as a kite so she felt no fear, c) believed hot dogs cure all evils, or d) all the above.

I was okay until we went back to the car…but then I saw the sheet covering the back seat, and I looked down and was holding an empty collar and leash. I totally lost it.

Boyfriend doesn’t handle tears well, so I called my mum and sobbed to her for 20 minutes in the shelter parking lot.

This is becoming a monster of a post, and it’s only Part I. I’ll try to wrap things up.

I got a call at 11:00 am the next day and was told that Chip didn’t need stitches and was cleared for pick-up. Boyfriend couldn’t get out of work, so I was riding solo. I re-rented the same Zipcar, put the sheet back down in the back seat, and went to the shelter.

They brought out my Chip, who still was pretty docile, with a large scab on her nose. They laid her gently in my arms, and she tucked her little head under my chin.

That’s when it truly struck me – dude, this creature is dependent on me for survival. I then carried Chip out, and we didn’t look back.

Tune in for next time when I talk about gentling a mildly disturbed dog and how Boyfriend and I adjust to being dog parents!

Tschüss!

Sie Lizzie D

The Truth about Ratatouille

Hello Freunde,

I’ve been absent from the blog now for quite some time.

But, can I get an amen that May seems like last weekend?

This hiatus, I admit—it was on purpose.

Not to be overly dramatic, but I’ve had a hard time returning to blog about my trite ramblings and my quasi-eccentric renderings of recipes.

Everyone should be mindful, though, that birds can be dangerous creatures.

To put it quite bluntly, we found out early this summer that my mum’s ovarian cancer has returned.

In case you don’t know, this is my mum, Jane. She loves hedgehogs.

My mum was first diagnosed with ovarian cancer in early 2010 when I was studying abroad in Vienna, Austria.

As you can imagine, I was scared out of my mind because:
1) Cancer is scary AF.
2) Cancer had never struck so close to home before.
3) I was 4,467 miles away from my mum.
4) I was an emotional 21-year-old, who had never left her hometown before—not even for college.

Quite simply, I didn’t take it very well. I cried whenever I was alone in my dorm room and Skype-called my mum every chance I could.

I was hysterically fearful that I wouldn’t be able to see her before she went in for surgery and that the surgery would go wrong.

During that time, my study abroad friends were absolutely stellar and displayed how great human beings can truly be. Everyone was incredibly supportive and was always there to listen or to distract me from morbid thoughts. To this day, I consider a number of these people lifelong friends.

For the rest of my study abroad crew: I may not be in as close of contact with you as I’d like to be, but I will forever be grateful for your kindness and will always think the absolute highest of you. You’re forever welcome in my home.

We were very fortunate that my mum was taken care of by an excellent oncologist, and her body responded positively to chemo therapy. I was also incredibly lucky that my parents were able to fly me home during my spring break so that I could see my mum before her surgery.

I’ll try and cut to the chase, as we all know my proclivity to rambling—seriously, as a second grader, it took me 3 months of weekly journal entries to get up to departing the aircraft on my assignment, “What I Did This Summer”—my mum kicked cancer’s ass. She came out of the other side of surgery with flying colors and got through the rest of her chemo therapy like a champ.

Mum and my grandma’s dog Kate laughing at what a chump Cancer is.

In retrospect, my mum’s cancer was a huge impetus in my growing up—especially when I returned home from study abroad. Something internally shifts when you need to help care for your parent—in my case, it was driving and being with my mum during her treatment sessions, helping out more in terms of cooking and cleaning, and simple tasks like opening doors for her.

I had been a child for 21 years, and it was now my turn to step up and be a partner during my mum’s post-op recovery and ongoing treatment.

My mum, me, and me Fajaahhh prior to boarding our flight to England this past Christmas.

Everything since then—AmeriCorps, living on my own, debt, paying my own bills, finding employment, moving to DC—well, it just didn’t quite come up to snuff in comparison to my mum beating cancer.

In November 2014, my mum started having shoulder pain which slowly encompassed her entire left arm. Having been told by her doctor that it was common nerve pain, my mum dealt with chronic pain for 6 months. She then, on her own, sought help  from a physical therapist, who immediately noticed something wasn’t quite right. He referred her to a thoracic surgeon who ordered an MRI of my mum’s shoulder.

Wine tasting on Long Island because we’re fancy.

They found a mass.

In June, the lab results came back and confirmed it was malignant.

Mum looking lovely at Kat’s wedding.

Again, I didn’t handle it well.

Common thoughts I had were:

• Five years.
• Five years of relief and sighing, “It’s gone. Mum did it. Cancer is no more.”
• Did we commit hubris?
• Does our family have bad luck?
• Why my mum?
• Why our family?
• Haven’t we been through enough?
• Fuck cancer.

You can go away now, Cancer.

As you saw, I stopped blogging. I spent a lot of time on my own.

Diet? What diet? Red wine = my new best friend.

I cancelled on multiple group friend events. I internalized quite a lot and didn’t want to speak to anyone really, not even Boyfriend.

Funny story (in a dark humor way, I suppose), Boyfriend came home after an intramural soccer game and found me wrapped up in my plush leopard-print Snuggie, half bottle of red wine gone, head phones on, and tears streaming down my face. When he asked what was wrong and urged me to talk to him, I hissed at him, “Leave me be, I’m making a playlist for my mum.”

Boyfriend’s reaction.

Side note, I haven’t sent the playlist to my mum yet, but Emo Lizzie did a decent job.

Now that we’re past the initial shock and emotions, my mum is doing okay—as is the rest of the immediate Dorman-Bissett-Schoener clan. We have an action plan and now know what we’re up against.

The full crew.

In terms of treatment, my mum has gone through 10 sessions of radiation and just completed her first 3 rounds of chemo therapy. She is no longer in chronic pain, which is fantastic. She is able to move her left arm and shoulder again and is working on regaining full mobility in her left hand.

We don’t have a full progress report yet, but my mum has been getting regular cancer antigen 125 (CA 125) tests done.

CA 125 is a protein that is a so-called tumor marker or biomarker, which is a substance that is found in greater concentration in tumor cells than in other cells of the body. CA 125 is present in greater concentration in ovarian cancer cells than in other cells, and levels from 0-37 are considered healthy.

LaLa and Mum.

Currently, my mum’s level is down to 13.

Yeah, Cancer. Up yours.

How is she doing? Well, I was very fortunate to be able to take time off of work to be with my mum during her third chemo session last week. It was good for me to see that she was doing alright and to see her treatment facility. She’s in very high spirits because she and my dad will be celebrating their 35th wedding anniversary by taking a trip to Eastern Europe. They leave on Labor Day.

Mum and Fajaaah being adorable.

Now, time for the cooking.

You know what the Internet wasn’t totally helpful on? Recommended recipes to make when someone is going through chemo. I know, I know—there are prescribed grocery lists and some recipes available. You know what, though? The recipes didn’t look especially appetizing.

So if I have anything to say about it, talk to your loved one who is going through chemo and ask what they’re in the mood for. There. Easy peasy.

Here is what Mum picked:

Ratatouille

Ingredients

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 3 probably used 5 cloves of garlic, minced pressed
• 2 teaspoons dried parsley
• 1 teaspoon thyme
• 1 eggplant, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
• salt and pepper to taste
• 1 cup grated Parmesan cheese **I probably used 2-3 cups. Whoops.
• 2 1 zucchini
• 1 yellow squash
• 1 large onion, sliced into rings **Hmm, didn’t read the rings part. C’est la vie!
• 2 cups sliced fresh mushrooms
• 1 green bell pepper
• 2 large tomatoes, chopped

Mountain o’ vegetables.

Directions

• Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
• Coat bottom and sides of a 1 1/2 quart casserole dish with 1 tablespoon olive oil. **I totally forgot to do this and blessedly the ratatouille was not glued to the bottom of the pot. You should do this.
• Heat remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil in a medium skillet over medium heat.
• Cook and stir garlic until lightly browned. Mix in parsley, and eggplant, and onion. Cook and stir until eggplant is soft, about 10 minutes. Season with thyme and salt and pepper to taste.
• Spread eggplant and onion mixture evenly across bottom of prepared casserole dish.
• Sprinkle with a few tablespoons of Parmesan cheese.
• Spread zucchini in an even layer over top. Lightly salt and sprinkle with a little more cheese.

• Continue layering in this fashion, with onion, yellow squash, mushrooms, bell pepper, and tomatoes, covering each layer with a sprinkling of salt and cheese.
• Dump all the remaining Parmesan cheese on top of all the layers for a delightful top melty coat.
• Bake in preheated oven for 45 minutes.

I also made a French-ish marinade for chicken breasts to accompany the ratatouille.

Provençal Herb Marinade

Ingredients

• 1/4 cup olive oil
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• 1 3 large garlic cloves, roughly chopped
• Salt and pepper to taste
• 1 2 teaspoons Dijon or stone-ground mustard
• 1 teaspoon minced fresh oregano or 1/4 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1/2 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves or 1 pinch dried thyme
• 1/2 teaspoon dried Herbes de Provence 
• 3 chicken breasts

Directions

• To marinate, place the chicken, seasoned with salt and pepper, in a zip-top bag. Whisk all the ingredients together in a bowl, then pour over the chicken. Seal the bag tightly, pressing the bag gently to remove as much excess air as possible. **So…I mixed the marinade in the bag and then just plopped the chicken breasts inside and shook everything around.

• Marinate for at least 24 hours **I only allowed for like 3 hours. Whoops.
• Set oven to 375–400 degree F **The chicken breasts were ‘roided out monsters, so I had to increase the heat.
• Bake for about 20 to 30 minutes — until the thickest part of the chicken registers 165 degrees F on a meat thermometer.

Sie Lizzie D Thoughts:

1. I should have let the chicken marinate longer.
2. I would be interested in pan searing and/or grilling the chicken.
3. ERMERGERD RATATOUILLE.
4. I would consider sauteing the zucchini and yellow squash before letting it bake. It was a little too crunchy for my liking.
5. ERMERGERD EGGPLANT AND MUSHROOMS NOMZZZZZZ.

More importantly, my mum finished her chicken breast and portion of ratatouille that evening. And my parents literally have 3 pounds of ratatouille in the freezer. All in a day’s work, my friends.

Whew. Well, I feel like I lifted a load off of my chest. It’s hard when you want to be private but at the same time want to be honest and candid. Especially when you attempt to blog honestly and candidly.

For this post, I intentionally added many photos of my mum and my family. Why? I want to remind everyone that though my mum and my family are going through a difficult time—we’re still family, still normal people.

We’re doing okay. Sure, we have our bad days and have a cry. But more often, we try and find a reason to laugh. Because hey, why cry when you can laugh?

My mum getting in touch with her Viking roots.

You may ask: “What do you need?”

1. Good vibes, thoughts, and prayers are all very welcome.
2. We’re good on food/moneys/carpooling, but thank you for asking.
3. My mum loves notes. If you would like to send her a note, private message her on Facebook or send her an email. Or, you can private message me and I can forward it along. If you want to send a card, please private message me.
4. If you’d like to join me in telling cancer to very rudely GTFO, please consider making a donation to the American Cancer Society which funds very smart scientists who will one day find a way to eradicate this disease.

I want to conclude that I’ve always thought of my mum as Super Woman. She had a full-time job, raised 3 daughters, and obtained her masters degree, summa cum laude. Throughout her diagnosis, she has been brave and strong. She is my mum, a designation higher than a hero.

Mum, I love you very much.

Last but not least, Mum sees butterflies as her symbol because of the quotation that my dad gave to her during her first diagnosis.

“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.” -Maya Angelou

So, if you would care to join me, here’s a butterfly for Susan Jane Jordan Dorman, the most beautiful woman I know.

Photo credit: Veronica Varos Photography

Tschüss!

Sie Lizzie D

That Time When I Ran a Half Marathon

Hello again.

Oh yes, second post in under a week. This maaaaayyy be a new self record.

Again, I’m not going to write a super long post and unfortunately don’t have a recipe to share, but I figured I would write down 6 thoughts that I have about my first-time experience running in the Pittsburgh half marathon this past Sunday…before I exit down another Lizzie wormhole.

Like researching recipes on marinades. You know – to make a meat product delicious and succulent.

SO LET’S DO THIS!

6. I probably should have trained harder.
I had a training program that I researched and plugged into my Google calendar. The program was a good one and mapped out what I needed to to do every day. Even though I had daily reminders, I only loosely followed the training program. Despite my lolly-gagging, I did get stronger and found that running was no longer the Sisyphean task that it once was. But, I only got up to 8 miles prior to the race. And I should have gotten up to at least 10 miles beforehand. OH WELL.

5. I most likely should have invested in stronger deodorant.
I really don’t know how I smelled those last 6 miles. But I think the answer is quite bad. I wish I could go back and apologize to all who caught a whiff. But then again, they probably all smelled too, so we were just a pack of smelly ponies.

4. I only cried 3 times.
Once, it was because my eyes randomly started streaming during one of the miles, and I didn’t notice it at first. I must have been quietly jogging along with tears running down my cheeks for who knows how long.

The second time was when we were traipsing though the Southside, and two specators were holding 6 week old puppies. Why? I have no idea. But, I started crying because a) they were so cute that my cup floweth over and b) all I wanted to do was to stop running and play with the puppies.

The third time was when I was doing my final sprint-hobble to cross the finish line. What can I say – I’m a sap.

3. At one point, I felt like an Ent.

I was in Corral D (REPRESENT) aka the holding pen for all the slow ones. I like to think, though, that my group had the most heart. I admit that I don’t really remember the last 4 miles of the race. I’m almost positive that my body entered a PTSD state, and I’m currently experiencing short term amnesia.

WHAT I DO remember was crossing the last bridge in the half marathon course, which was the Birmingham Bridge. As my smelly pony mob realized we were about to go over the last bridge, there was a collective cheer, quite possibly a groan, as we charged onto it.

And it was exactly like in Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers when Treebeard announces, “The Ents are going to war. It is likely that we go to our doom. The last march of the Ents.” 

2. I think I consumed about 685 calories in 4 minutes.
I probably should have eaten a larger breakfast, but I don’t like to eat much before a lot of exercise. Makes me nauseous, to be honest.

The last 2 miles, all I could think about was food and how I was going to eat all the things. I wasn’t lying in my post race Facebook status that thoughts of the complimentary Panera bagels were what kept my feet moving in the final mile.

After I crossed the finish line, I was like a little zombie, and I immediately trudged over to my most immediate food source. I didn’t speak to anyone but stumbled from food station to food station where I inhaled anything I could get my hands on. In the space of 4 minutes or less, I ate a banana, 2 Panera mini bagels, and a bag of potato chips. I don’t think anything has ever tasted as good.

1. Despite my struggles, tears, hunger, and body odor, I am glad I ran that half marathon.
Will I do one again? Debatable. But you know what? As that person who was never the most fleet or agile in gym class, who always got the “Most Improved” Phys Ed award (yes, the award that they give to the nerds for not hiding out in the locker room during gym class), I am immensely proud of myself that I finished. And I’m proud that I finished the race in 2:39.

I surprised myself in a good way during the race. At many points, I was struck at how well my body’s endurance was holding up and just how strong my legs are. 13.1 miles…yeah, wow.

Before I ran this race, many people said to me, “Wow, I could never run a half marathon.” At the time, I just shrugged and said, “Well, I am quite the masochist.”

Seriously though, during and after my race, I realized something – my doubts were all mental. If you say you can’t do something, then it’s just not going to happen. But you know what? Unless you have a pre-existing condition that limits your mobility, if I can do a half marathon, so can you.

On a final parting note, I am now walking slightly bow-legged which while it pains me, it also amuses me immensely. I’m quite convinced that ice, Epsom salts, and Ibruprofen may be the saving graces of the world.

Tschüss!

Sie Lizzie D

The Egg Hoard and A Fly Frittata

Hello there!

I don’t know – Bambi spoke to me.

I have been very distracted again, but I’m currently trying to get my day-to-day life more focused with multiple alarms. And reminders. And syncing my work and personal calendar on my phone.

So naturally, I’m writing a quick blog post instead. ANYWAY, it’s Seestur LaLa’s birthday. Who I also call Peiner. And she calls me Wenis. We started calling each other that during a road trip to annoy Fajaaahh.

Look, Fajahh, I made you a pregnant woman.
Peiner, I’ll be the little boy with the baby man bun.

And the Peiner/Wenis pet names have stuck as sweet terms of endearment for over 13 years now.

Happy Birthday, Peiner!

Captain Peiner and First Mate Wenis.

Do you ever have that one item on your grocery list that you always think you’re out of and then you get home and discover that you are not out of said item? But you, in fact, have scores and scores of said item and are now almost at a point of accumulating a massive hoard of said item?

Past grocery hoards of mine include: mandarin oranges, Orbit gum, brown rice, and peanut butter (oh, that was a wondrous hoard).

My current hoard is eggs. But this time, Boyfriend has unknowingly joined in the forgetful hoard fun, and we both keep forgetting that we had a reasonable stash of eggs before ordering more on Peapod.

Yeah, we live in DC, and we have our groceries delivered. We’re pretentious.

So, what do you do when you have dozens upon dozens of unplanned eggs? Well, you make a frittata.

Pioneer Woman’s Sunday Frittata

Ingredients

• 12 whole Large Eggs – YES, TAKE AWAY SOME OF THE EGG HOARD
• Salt And Black Pepper
• 1/4 cup Grated Parmesan Or Romano Cheese – mmMMmm, parm.
• 1/2 cup Grated Cheddar Or Monterey Jack Cheese (more To Taste) – I used a 1/4 cup of Vermont cheddar instead.
• 2 dashes Hot Sauce, Optional – Yes, do it. I used Trader Joe’s Habanero hot sauce.
• 2 Tablespoons Butter
• 1 whole Medium Onion, Halved And Sliced Thin
• 1 whole Baked Potato, Cooled And Diced 
• 2 cups Torn Kale Leaves Or Whole Spinach Leaves
• 2 whole Jarred Roasted Red Peppers, Sliced Thin
• 1/4 cup Chopped Green Or Black Olives
• 1 rubber band bunch of asparagus, coarsely chopped
• Decent amount of mushrooms, diced
• Heaping handful of grape tomatoes, diced
• Bacon, just as much as your heart tells you to, sliced into bits
• I personally added a nub of leftover squash, diced

Preparation Instructions

Preheat the oven to 375 F.

Beat together the eggs with the salt and pepper (do not over-beat; just mix until the eggs mostly come together.) Stir in the grated cheeses and set aside. (Stir in hot sauce if using.)

In a large oven-proof non-stick skillet, melt butter over medium-high heat. Add the onions and cook for several minutes, stirring frequently, until the onions are soft and golden brown. Add diced potato, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and stir to cook with the onion for a couple of minutes. Add the kale and stir to cook about 1 minute. Finally, add the roasted red peppers and olives asparagus, squash, tomatoes, bacon, and mushrooms, and stir until everything is hot.

Make sure all the ingredients are evenly distributed across the bottom of the skillet, then pour in the egg mixture so that it evenly coats everything. Let it sit on the burner for 30-45 seconds to set the edges, then put the skillet in the oven.

Watch the frittata as it cooks. Let it cook in the oven for 10-12 minutes until the eggs are set but remove it before the eggs brown very much on top.

Slide the frittata out of the skillet and onto a cutting board. With a long serrated knife, slice it into wedges and serve warm with fresh fruit.

NOTE: Use any ingredients you want! Mushrooms, leeks, different cheeses, tomatoes, zucchini, squash, bell peppers. Have fun! – Oh, I did, Pioneer Woman. Indeed, I did.

You all know that I fail miserably at food photography. So, Boyfriend took up the mantle of food paparazzo and took some pictures. And boy, was I not in the mood for the photo shoot due to extreme Hanger.

Bacon and butter. Very nice.

The block of cheddar. Commendable.

Slicing in dat bacon. 

In the seasoning zone.

“What are you doing?”
And no, I do not have a black eye. I’m just have natural dark under-eye circles.

Action shot.

“Are you filming a video?!”

Boyfriend selfie. Naturally.

You’ve served us well, egg hoard.

Quite glamourous, really.

Probably should’ve made some taquitos.

Boyfriend is now in a hat. And I think was doing a thumb’s up for frittatas.

Egg hoard is setting.

And then ravenous beasts that we are, I don’t have a good glamor shot of the final product because we immediately set upon it like malnourished direwolves. 
So here’s this half demolished shot instead.

The frittata was divine, and I highly recommend this recipe for a fun breakfast themed dinner or a friends brunch.

And next time we have a photo shoot when I cook, I’ll try to be less Hangry and smile at least once.

Tschüss!

Sie Lizzie D

Yelling in Third Person at Boyfriend and Imagination Wormholes Part I

Why hello there.

I’m ashamed of myself for not having seen the sequel yet.
Yes, I am 26.

Again, my blogging lapse is because I have literally not been cooking. No, but really, I was in a show.

I will grant you one wish if you can find me.

AND, I had a major work conference advocating for arts funding and why arts education should be listed as a core academic subject on Capitol Hill.

All the arts.

AND I have been simultaneously struck with an obsession to wait for the right moment to blog. And most likely I have been struggling with laziness.

I’ve also been traveling a lot from visiting my parents to spending time with my lady friend, Leesh Leesh. And I’m about to journey to Pittsburgh for my friend’s wedding. All whilst only managing to take pictures of dogs.

LOOK AT MY HANDSOME CHARLIE BEAR

AND MY BEAUTIFUL FAIRY GODDAUGHTER WAFFLES

Anyway, I again have missed the mark in blogging regularly. Boyfriend, once more, reminded me that I am not giving my due diligence in blogging for my patient audience.

Speaking of Boyfriend, I very aggressively left him an angry voicemail this evening for failing to reload the laundry card. While that in and of itself is not a crime, he did not inform me before I put a full load of laundry in the laundry machine, loaded it up with detergent, and then saw that the card was out of funds. When I had no cash on me and he is presently out of the apartment playing soccer.

Oh yeah. And when I get self-righteous, I use the third person. That voicemail is a gem and I hope Boyfriend saves it.

“It is one thing not to fill up the Britta water jug. IT IS ANOTHER THING NOT TO REFILL THE LAUNDRY CARD AND NOT TELL YOUR PARTNER.”

He will not like me telling you all this one bit. But, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, Boyfriend.

So let’s talk about wormholes. Whenever someone asks me what it’s like in Sie Lizzie’s brain, I honestly have to answer: “Imagination wormholes.”

To be honest, I have a very difficult time staying entirely present in the real world. I have an overactive imagination, and I was a space cadet most of my childhood. But honestly, growing up, I had a very difficult time focusing and not retreating into my mind. I mean, in a way, why not? My beautiful Imagination Land was so much better than reality.

I also didn’t understand logical things like telling time and long division for quite some time. Fortunately, Madre and Fajaaah gradually snapped me out of it and made me learn the big hand from the little hand and basic math skills. Thanks, Parents, for keeping me functional.

But okay, let’s be real – I’m still a space cadet but now am cognizant that it’s not normal. Anyway, as an adult-like creature, I now no longer have Fajaaah constantly reminding me, “Elisabeth, what time is it? No, Elisabeth, quarter to 3 is not 3:15. Elisabeth, where is your lunch and gym clothes? Elisabeth, you knew about this assignment for months, and next time, I will not proof your project that is due in 6 hours. Slow down, Elisabeth, slow down.” And God, do I miss it.

All day long, I have to remind myself to be present and do normal things like staying on task, getting my work done, filing my taxes, and setting my alarm every night before bed. I know those all are First World problems, but I can’t tell you how difficult I find it to remain productive and to not get stuck in my imagination wormholes.

Anyway, these past two days, I have been stuck in the same wormhole. Basically, I saw that one of my work members had posted an article about a couple in a “mixed orientation marriage.”

Right? So obviously I had to click on it. And discovered this blogger called Josh Weed.

Basically, he is a Mormon dad of 3 adorable little girls. And he came out of the closet on his 10th wedding anniversary. With his wife. Who he is still happily married to.

Yeah, if you want to have your mind warped a little bit, read this post. It really threw me for a loop. No imaginative wormhole pun intended.

Whether you decide to read the full post or not, in it, Josh keeps mentioning that he is a humor blogger. And here I am like:

His coming out post is THAT serious. Anyway, I decided, “Hey, I will read one ‘humorous’ blog post of this guy and if it’s no bueno then I am done.”

So I read this blog post. And, I think it’s hilarious.

Now, I honestly can’t stop reading this guy’s blog. I mean, I’m one of three girls, and my parents were 30 years old when they had their final bambino, aka Sie Lizzie D. I can’t help but think, “God, what if Fajaaah had the Internet when we were little and blogged about all of our crazy antics.”

Except Fajaaah isn’t gay and isn’t a Mormon and isn’t a therapist.

It’s totally fine if you don’t like Josh’s blog like I do. I relate to him as a fellow awkward soul, and I really enjoy how he tells stories about his girls. Like Bambi nuggets. I skip his religious blog entries; it honestly doesn’t bother me, but my wormholes and I don’t have time for that. If anything, Josh has reminded me that I need to work past my imagination wormholes and keep blogging.

Mazel tov, Home Boy, and you do you.

I want to keep talking about my imagination wormholes; but I am quite distracted, and I need to check on my laundry. OH RIGHT. Sometimes I problem solve – thus I tested my old apartment building’s laundry card on my current laundry card system, and IT WORKED. Praise the Lord!

I’ll consider apologizing to Boyfriend for the voicemail.

Oh and I lied, I did end up cooking tonight. I made myself two turkey burgers with sautéed mushrooms and onions.

Seasoning Recommendation:

• Salt
• Pepper
• Garlic powder
• McCormick steak seasoning

Anything less is quite amateur, my friends.

I plan on writing again soon and will employ a Josh Weed strategy to help keep me accountable. Here’s what I want to tell you about in the near future:

• Imagination Wormholes, Part 2 and Self Diagnosis
• Millennial Wasteland
• More Actual Cooking
• Why can’t I tune out Turkish?

Tschüss!

Sie Lizzie D

Healthy-ish Jambalaya, Turkey Meatloaf Brains, and the Mystery of the Missing Rainbow Dolphin Mug

Hello Friends!

Boyfriend has reprimanded me for taking so long between blog posts. Honestly, I feel like I haven’t had any particularly intriguing or ridiculous yarns to spin, new recipes to share…you know, I’ve been quite boring.

Thus, I have refrained from writing to not only protect you from tears of boredom but, more importantly, to maintain my mystique.

According to Boyfriend, I have made an incorrect assumption and that the masses would rather hear my random ramblings than nothing at all.

Let’s get on with it and talk about my rainbow dolphin mug. It is a work of art and was sent to me as a Christmas present from my beloved Leesh Leesh.

Front – majestic rainbow dolphins joyfully carousing in the waves.

Back – #canteven. A cherished phrase expressed between Leesh Leesh and I as well as the rest of the Millenial populace. Except it’s completely ironic and cool when we say it.

I keep this treasured mug at work because it never fails to make me smile whenever I use it to make my instant oatmeal or heat up my leftover coffee.

As I mentioned before, I often eat my oatmeal out of my rainbow dolphin mug, so after each use, it needs a gentle soak in the work sink before scrubbing.

One afternoon, I noticed that someone had kindly loaded it in the dishwasher. Since it was late in the afternoon, I thought to myself, “What a good Samaritan! I’ll just pick it up tomorrow morning.”

Except the next morning, I went to go retrieve it, and MY MUG WAS MISSING.

Naturally, I panicked.

After my initial freak out, I tried to be rational. Okay, I work at an arts organization. We have a kitchen cupboard full of both personal and spare mugs. Maybe someone thought it was a spare mug and…

HOW COULD SOMEONE THINK A MUG WITH LEAPING RAINBOW DOLPHINS WITH THE INSCRIPTION #CANTEVEN CONSIDER THAT MOST GLORIOUS RECEPTACLE ANYTHING BUT PERSONAL??!!

After an angst-filled day, my beautiful mug returned to the kitchen sink. Dirty. Sullied. With leftover coffee inside.

I cleaned it quickly and joyfully reunited with my mug.

And, I vowed that I would never let that mug out of my sight again.

So, back to cooking…I made turkey meatloaf last night following my last meatloaf recipe. I was in a rush and decided to use the food processor to chop my onions, green pepper, and garlic. I forgot to check the setting and ended up LIQUIFYING my filling.

I then substituted turkey for the beef and soy milk for normal milk. The end product before the ketchup sauce coating looked like…well, brains.

See, I wasn’t lying.

I made a couple of other adjustments to the original recipe, you know on top of melting the veggies and switching up the proteins and dairy…

Anyway, I cooked the turkey at 360 degrees F for 45 minutes. Seemed to do the trick, and all in all, the turkey meatloaf came out fine.

I know, I was messy with the sauce. Judge away, Negative Nancys.

It turned out pretty tasty. Well, let’s be honest, it was a fancy turkey burger without the bun.

I ALSO made a really tasty “skinny” jambalaya recommended by my seestur Kitty Kat. I say “healthy” un-ironically because I used normal sausage instead of the recommended turkey sausage. While, my tummy is very pleased, my arteries may not feel the same way.

Skinny Jambalaya

Ingredients

• olive oil – 1 tsp *Extra Virgin Olive Oil and more like just coat the bottom of the pot, folks.
• Cajun seasoning – to taste *I got to this second ingredient item and was like “…I forgot the Cajun seasoning.” So, I just kind of threw these spices together and called it a day.
• boneless, skinless chicken breasts – 8 oz raw, cut into 1 in. cubes *Let the record state I used 2 chicken breasts.
• lean turkey sausage – 8 oz, cut into 1 in. cubes *I just used a whole package of ground spicy Italian sausage, and I don’t regret it for a moment.
• onion – 1 c, diced *Use 1 whole onion, diced. It’s good for you.
• celery – 2 ribs, diced  *NO, FOR THE BIRDS.
• green bell pepper – 1, diced
• yellow bell pepper – 1, diced
• zucchini – 1 medium, diced
• garlic – 4-5 cloves *Yeah, man – get it.
• brown rice – 3/4 c *I just used 1 cup because why not.
• no salt added tomatoes – 1 15-oz can *Just use a can of diced tomatoes and double check that it’s low-sodium or something.
• low-sodium, fat-free chicken broth – 1 c
• Worcestershire sauce – 2 tsp
• cumin – 1 tsp
• thyme – 1 tsp
• cayenne pepper – 1/2 tsp
• black pepper – 1 tsp
• shrimp – 8 oz, peeled
• parsley – 2 tbs, optional
• green onions – 2 tbs, optional *I personally didn’t use it because I forgot to.

Instructions

1. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium high heat.
2. Toss chicken cubes with Cajun seasoning and saute, stirring occasionally, until brown, about 5-6 minutes. Remove to a plate.
3. Saute sausage until brown, about 6-8 minutes and remove to a plate.
4. Reduce heat to medium and add onion, peppers, and celery to the pan. Saute for about 5 minutes and add zucchini. Continue cooking, stirring, until onion is translucent.
5. Add garlic and rice. Saute until rice is opaque and begins to brown. *At this point, I added back in the cooked chicken and sausage. It’s Jambalaya, you skinny wench. You need to let the flavors meld.
6. Add tomatoes, broth, Worcestershire sauce, and spices. Bring to a boil, reduce to simmer, cover and cook until rice is tender, about 30-40 minutes depending on the type of rice.
7. Uncover and add shrimp. Cook until shrimp are opaque and any excess liquid has boiled out.
8. Stir in parsley and green onions. Serve.

I cannot recommend this recipe highly enough. I would definitely try it again but with turkey sausage. I think the key play is to throw all the meat back into the pot and let all the things simmer together.

Also, another recipe that Boyfriend can’t seem to get enough of is…well, I don’t have a name for it.

It’s essentially a “Lizzie sautees veggies with a protein, throws in couscous, and calls it a day” recipe. But, Boyfriend requests it weekly. Also, when he really likes a certain food, he calls it “num nums.” And, he has begun referring this dish as a num num. Therefore, I guess I will share it with you.

Chicken Couscous Num Nums

Ingredients

• 2 tablespoons, Extra Virgin Olive Oil aka EVOO
• 1 yellow onion (diced)
• 1 green pepper OR 1 zucchini (diced)
• 1/2 cup, mushrooms (diced)
• 1/3 cup, grape tomatoes (quartered)
• 1 cup of baby spinach
• 2 chicken breasts (cubed)
• 2-3 cloves, garlic (minced)
• 1 box of couscous (I prefer the roasted pine nut one)
• Salt
• Pepper

Instructions

1. Lightly coat the bottom of a large pan with EVOO and set the heat to medium.
2. Add diced onions and green pepper OR zucchini to hang out. Season with salt and pepper.
3. Add quartered grape tomatoes.
4. Season your chicken with salt and pepper.
5. Once the onion starts looking translucent, add in the chicken cubes and garlic.
6. Bring 1 and 1/4 cup water, a dash of EVOO, and the couscous seasoning to a boil.
7. After the water boils, add your couscous. Remove from heat and let it sit for 5 minutes.
8. After the chicken no longer looks raw, add in mushrooms and spinach.
9. Once couscous is cooked, add it in to the rest of the ingredients.
10. Look at you, you’re all done.

Behold, Chicken Couscous Num Nums

Anyway, I came into work this morning thinking about how awesome my lunch of jambalaya was going to taste…

When I remembered that I never finished washing out my rainbow dolphin mug after yesterday’s oatmeal.

I looked in vain at the pristinely empty sink. I checked the dishwasher, the cupboard, and double checked my office. But…my lovely little mug was gone.

I wish I could say that there was a happy ending to this tale. But, my mug never returned at the end of the work day today.

Hopefully my special little mug will return to me soon.

And if it doesn’t…

To Be Continued…

Tschüss!

Sie Lizzie D

Chicken Curry, Tuna Noodle Casserole, and My Sweet Lunchbox

Hello again.

I’m trying really hard to not think that I am on a “diet” right now but that I am commencing a “life style change.” But let’s be honest.

I’m like this:

When I want be like this:

Healthy eating really isn’t the worst though. If I could commend myself on one thing I am doing well is my weekday meal preparation.

I’m in no way implying that meal preparation comes easily for me – in fact, I find it very difficult. It’s just the one task I am accomplishing consistently.

My routine right now is that I cook three dinners for the week on Sunday (or whichever day I have the most free time). After the dinners are prepped and stored in the refrigerator or freezer, every night before I go to bed, I plan out my breakfast, lunch, snacks, and sometimes dinner for the next day.

I admit that sometimes after a marathon cooking and prepping sesh, I feel like this.

But I honestly think meal preparation is what is driving my weight loss right now. Instead of scavenging for my next meal at overpriced Pret Manger and eating the free candy at a coworker’s desk, I can trot over to the refrigerator where Past Lizzie kindly prepped noms for me.

Also, I feel like a tool eating out when I’m eating healthy. You know – having to do all that special order stuff so that the exorbitantly expensive meal I’m purchasing is actually good for me. As I order, I just imagine everyone around me is giving me side eye.

Nay, once I figure eating out healthily, I’ll let you know in a future post.

As I began becoming more diligent about packing my meals, I found that I was struggling with transporting everything into work.

I decided to finally treat myself to a better lunchbox. And I think it’s pretty sweet.

My slick new lunch pack comes with reusable containers, an ice pack,a vitamin case (for whenever I decide to start taking them), and a protein shake/water bottle. Her name is Bertha and she’s already earned a special place in my heart.

Of course, whenever Boyfriend sees my super cool lunchbox, he yells, “NERD ALERT!”

Haters gonna hate.

Anyway, here are some of the meal options that I prepare for myself ahead of time.

Breakfast

• Instant oatmeal (apple cinnamon is my jam) and a piece of fruit
• 1/3 cup cooked egg whites (prepped with Pam cooking spray, salt and pepper, and 2 tbsp of fat free salsa) and a piece of fruit
• If I’m feeling frisky, chocolate protein shake (with 1 cup soy milk, 1 tbsp of peanut butter, and banana…and ice – don’t forget the ice)

Lunch

• A serving of dinner leftovers
• Arnold sandwich thin with thinly spread Dijon mustard and a few slices of low sodium turkey deli meat
• Cooked chicken breast (prepped with Pam cooking spray and salt and pepper) with 1 cup of steamed veggies and 1/2 cup of brown rice
• Cooked shrimp (6-8 items prepped with Pam cooking spray and salt and pepper) usually paired with a side salad

Add-Ons / Snacks

• Can of Diet Coke (I know I’m going to grow an alien life form out of the side of my head one day from all of the consumed Diet Coke chemicals; but his name will be Craig, and we’ll be the best of friends)
• 0% Greek yogurt with fruit on the bottom
• Baby carrots
• Snyders mini pretzels (follow the serving size recommendation – you’ll be surprised how many of those puppies are in a serving)
• Side salad (spinach or spring mix, chopped baby carrots, chopped cucumbers, chopped grape tomatoes) with 1 tbsp of fat free balsamic vinaigrette (you really don’t need the recommended 2 tbsp…way too much).
  • I also advise investing in a mini container for your salad dressing. Nothing is worse than a pre-dressed, soggy salad #amirite?
• Extra fruit (bananas, apples, and clementines are my go-tos)
• 1/3 cucumber, sliced
• 1/2 bell pepper, sliced

Dinner

• One of my lunch options duplicated
• Hard boiled egg (with pepper)
  • Apparently the smell of hard boiled eggs makes Boyfriend gag, so I have to go into another room to eat them.

Look at this trove, treasures untold / How many wonders can one cavern hold?

If I come up with any new meal prep updates, I will let you know.

I also want to share two, brand new healthy recipes that Boyfriend and I enjoyed.

Weight Watchers’ Tuna Noodle Casserole (7 points)

Ingredients

• 3 cup(s) fat free milk
• 2 Tbsp all-purpose flour
• 2 Tbsp Dijon mustard
• 2 Tbsp Worcestershire sauce
• 1 tsp dried dill weed
• 1/2 tsp black pepper, freshly ground
• 1/4 tsp table salt
• 20 oz frozen mixed vegetables, thawed
• 12 oz canned chunk white tuna in water, drained
• 8 oz uncooked whole wheat pasta, spiral shape, cooked according to package instructions, drained
• 2 oz parmesan cheese, Parmigiano-Reggiano, grated (about 1/2 cup)

Instructions

1. Position the rack in the center of the oven and preheat the oven to 350°F.
2. Whisk the milk and flour in a large saucepan over medium heat until simmering and thickened.
3. Whisk in the mustard, Worcestershire, dill, pepper and salt. Then stir in the vegetables, tuna, noodles and cheese. Pour into a 2-quart round or oblong casserole.
4. Bake until bubbling and lightly browned, about 40 minutes (I took it out after 30 minutes). Let stand 10 minutes at room temperature before serving.

Before

After. Aw yeah.

Lizzie Thoughts: I really did enjoy this recipe; it was a less guilt-inducing comfort food meal. I also found out that I really enjoy dill. Who’d a thunk? In future renditions, I think I’m going to play with the spices, i.e. add more dill or red pepper flakes, to give the recipe a little more zing.

Slow Cooker Coconut Curry Chicken

Ingredients

• 2 lb boneless skinless chicken breasts or chicken thighs, cut into cubes
• 5 large carrots, peeled and diced (I just threw in a bunch of baby carrots)
• 1 medium onion, peeled and quartered
• 2 cloves garlic, peeled
• 1 large bell pepper, seeded and chopped (I used a green pepper)
• 1 (5 oz ) can tomato paste
• 1 (14 oz) can coconut milk
• 1 1/2 tsp salt
• 1 tbsp curry powder
• 1 tbsp garam masala
• 1 jalapeno, seeded and halved OR 1 tsp crushed red pepper flakes (I did the red pepper flakes)
• 2 tbsp water
• 1 1/2 tbsp cornstarch

Instruction

• Grease your slow cooker with Pam. Place the chicken, bell pepper, carrots on the bottom of slow cooker.
• Place the rest of the ingredients (except water and corn starch) in a food processor and process together until mixture is mostly smooth.Curry?

Curry!

• Pour the sauce over the chicken and carrots, mix well, then cover and cook on low for about 6 hours (or on High for 3 hours like moi).
• An hour or so before serving, mix cornstarch and water together in a small bowl until cornstarch is dissolved. Pour mixture into the slow cooker, stir to combine, and continue cooking for another hour. **This will thicken up the sauce. My sauce was plenty thick without this step.
• When the sauce is to your desired thickness, turn slow cooker to warm setting until ready to serve. Serve over rice, with Naan, and garnish with cilantro.
• I served my curry over brown rice one night and the next time with couscous.

It looks pretty craptastic here, but I swear that it was tasty.

Lizzie Thoughts: I thought this was a simple, tasty curry recipe. I’m sure there are way better ones out there, but again, it was so easy to prepare. Next time, I’m going to kick up the spices and do 1.5-2 tsp of red pepper flakes and bump up the curry and garam masala a touch.

I confess that the main reason why my “life style change” isn’t going so terrible is that Boyfriend is doing it with me. To be quite blunt, you don’t feel as effin’ miserable when your partner is right in the thick of it with you.

Especially when you can share bonding text messages like this:

Truly a travesty.

There, there. We will have buffalo chicken pizza again one day.

Tschüss!

Sie Lizzie D

I Have a Food Addiction…No, But Really

Hello my Lieblings!

It’s been a while again, I know. My bad.

Since I last wrote, I visited the Mother Land aka The Shire aka Jolly Ole England and spent Christmas with my grandma, mi madre, and Fajaahhh. We enjoyed much fine food stuffs like LEGIT fish and chips.

No seriously, I still dream about it. 

After getting back from the Mother Land, my study abroad lasses came to visit Boyfriend and me for New Years. And we drank all the champagne and ate all of the cheese.

On Monday, Boyfriend and I returned from Cancun aka Mexican Disney World. And yeah, it was great.

Long story short, food and I have been having the best time together.

As for my pants and me, well…

Thus, I am trying to get myself back on track by eating better and exercising regularly again. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Typical New Years resolution syndrome.

But I confess, it’s actually more than that for me. And, okay so let me get real for a minute.

I am overweight.

You may look at me and shake your head and say, “She has no idea what she’s talking about. Stop being melodramatic, Lizzie.”

No, I am not over-exaggerating. Most people forget that I am only 5’2” and therefore am quite petite. If you think I’m taller, why thank you. That pleases my Napoleon complex.

Anyway, for my height and body size – you know, BMI and all that jazz – I am overweight. To be at premium health, I need to lose between 17-22 lbs.

Where did my weight struggle begin? It all started with my perverted self image and insecurity that began long ago when I was backhanded by the phenomenon we know as puberty.

I went through puberty at age 12. Do you know how hard it is to develop curves when the majority of your classmates are still stick children? I also was extremely sensitive (still am, I suppose, but now I comprehend sarcasm) and anything could set me off at the drop of the hat.

I vividly remember one of my lowest points during that time. I had just gone out to lunch over the weekend with my sisters and we shared a pizza together. On the car ride back home, I sat in the back seat musing over the calories I just consumed and how it was all going to go straight to my ever-increasing thighs. I began weeping out of the blue, and my sisters demanded what was wrong.

“I’m so fat!” I wailed. “I’m so ugly!”

Seestur LaLa then saw her friend John mowing a neighbor’s lawn. She demanded Seestur Kitty Kat to pull the car over.

LaLa rolled down the window and waved John over. “John! Tell Lizzie that she is not fat!” LaLa demanded.

John shut off his mower, looked ever so confused, and replied, “Why would she think that? She’s beautiful.”

Thank you, John, wherever you are. Thank you for reminding me that not all teenage boys are cotton headed ninny muggins.

Anyway, I was a senior in high school when I was at my healthiest and weighed 115 lbs. I had ballet and jazz class 2 times a week; I took mandatory gym classes every other day (I actually tried my uncoordinated best in gym, sad I know); and I performed choreography in musical productions. Granted, I also had a metabolism working full throttle.

But guess what? At the time, I sill thought I was fat; I just no longer publicly cried about it.

I wanted to be 110 lbs and beat myself up over it day in and day out. While I ate my pepperoni rolls and tater tots and drank my Wild Cherry Pepsi.

After college, I gained more self confidence but never changed my eating habits. And the true killer – I stopped exercising regularly. Sadly, my metabolism began to wane, and I was in a complete and utter state of denial.

I mean, my primary care physicians never really commented on my weight. They just recorded my gradually increasing body mass at each physical with silent, judging eyes. I assume they kept their mouths shut because everything else was still checking out normal.

Every time I shopped, I bought a higher pant size and turned a blind eye. I gradually stopped buying shorts (ugh the sensation of thighs touching #amirite?). I no longer tried on halters or strapless dresses – discovering underarm and back bulges is truly a terrifying experience.

When I moved to Washington, DC in 2012, I did have a bit of a health reset.

Well, let’s be real. I had no friends, so I went to the gym everyday to break up the monotony of loneliness.

Having no friends = you get in better shape, I suppose. Quite shortly thereafter though, I did make friends.

Which meant happy hours and dinners and brunch dates. Friends = all the food.

At my heaviest, just under a year ago, I was extremely stressed out by my job. It seemed the only thing that could make me happy was food – that stress relieving constant. Midday chocolate milkshakes. Buffalo chicken pizza and Scandal in the evenings. Drinking half a bottle of wine by myself to make myself not think of work.

Yeah, no bueno.

I can’t really tell you what my breaking point was. Maybe it was getting slightly out of breath whenever I would climb up a flight of steps. Perhaps it was the time that I was trying to get ready for an event, and none my nice dresses fit me anymore. Maybe it was when I upped my pant size for the third or fourth time.

I can tell you my turning point: I joined Weight Watchers; I signed up for the Pittsburgh Marathon relay; and I auditioned and got into a local variety show. A couple of months later, I got a new job. I ended up losing 18 lbs, and it felt really good.

But, I confess that I fell off the wagon.

Honestly, it was gradual. Cheat days turned into cheat weeks. I exercised occasionally instead of every other day. I stopped keeping track of my food intake and weighing myself all together.

So, the good news is that I haven’t gained all my weight back, and my clothes still fit.

But, I still haven’t fulfilled a promise to myself.

When I first started Weight Watchers, I pledged to myself, “I want to get in the best shape of my life. I want to like my body.”

And I haven’t achieved that yet. But you know what, I really want to.

Nay! In fact, I will.

Possible overkill.

I guess in my typical rambling way what I’m trying to say is that I will always love food.

I just need to find that special balance of loving and not abusing food.

I’m cooking light now and am trying new low calorie recipes, which I will start sharing. I know, I know. RIP all the butter. If you have any suggestions, I’d love to hear about them, so please comment away.

Also disclaimer: I’m not becoming a fitness / life / weight loss coach. Good for you if you do it and enjoy it. I just will never  think the taste of skinny is better than a bacon cheeseburger with BBQ sauce.

Oh, I’m running the Pittsburgh Half Marathon in May. So, I’m sure that might come up once in a while in future posts.

Tschüss!

Sie Lizzie D

We All Need Some Chili to Lean On

So I know it’s been a while since I posted a recipe.

Mea culpa, friends.

If I may ramble, I was going to do a Thanksgiving blog post featuring the following menu items:

• Roast Turkey Breast with Herb Butter
• Balsamic-Roasted Brussels Sprouts
• Mashed Potatoes with Soft Cheese and Herbs

But then I was struck by an unforeseen affliction.

Apologies for the TMI—I was very unfortunately roundhouse kicked to the head with lady hormones, and EVERYTHING made me cry.

I couldn’t figure out how to do the skin rub thing so I ended up marinating the turkey breasts in a bowl of butter. When it came to the mashed potatoes, I forgot that I didn’t have a potato masher in my possession. Do you know how difficult it is to mash potatoes without that utensil/device/magical object?

Something like this.

Needless to say, such events made me devolve into an utterly emotional wreck. Seriously, Boyfriend had to make me frozen taquitos and whisper soothing words in order to calm the overwrought beast that was me.

Before taquitos…

After taquitos.

Anyway, let’s instead talk about a recipe that I have customized and enjoy immensely…

Lizzie’s Turkey Chili

Ingredients

• 1 crockpot (preferably an adorable red one)
• 1 lb ground turkey
• Extra Virgin Olive Oil, 2 tablespoons
• 1 bell pepper
• 1 large onion
• 2 garlic cloves (minced)
• 1 15 oz. can of tomato paste
• 1 28 oz can of diced tomatoes
• 1 15 oz can of cannellini beans
• 1 15 oz can of kidney beans
• 1 15 oz can of corn
• Paprika, 1.5 tablespoons
• Cumin, 2 tablespoons
• Cayenne, 2 tablespoons
• Garlic powder, 2 teaspoons
• Oregano, 2 teaspoons
• Salt, 1 tablespoon
• Cinnamon, 1 teaspoon
• Pepper, 1.5 tablespoons
• Trader Joe’s Habanero hot sauce, 2 teaspoons (to taste)
• Mexican cheese mix (optional)

Directions

• Season the turkey meat with salt and pepper; coat a pan with the oil on medium-high heat to brown the turkey meat.
• Coarsely chop (let’s face it, it’s the only way I can chop) the bell pepper and onion and throw into your crockpot.
• Once turkey is done, place turkey into the crockpot. Sprinkle cinnamon and minced garlic on top.
• Next, add all of your canned goods to the crockpot. **DO NOT drain your canned goods. Throw it all into the pot; it makes your chili taste better. I swears it on the Precious.
• Last, artfully sprinkle all of the remaining spices.
• Either cook on high for 4 hours and switch to low or prepare in the morning and set it to cook on low all day.
• If at home and cooking on high, occasionally stir. If not, give it a good stir when you get home and make sure to taste test.
  • If it’s tasting bland for whatever reason, in intervals, add the following:
    • 1 teaspoon cumin
    • half teaspoon salt
    • 1 teaspoon Habanero sauce
• Serve into bowls and sprinkle cheese on top.

I had all sorts of plans for myself on Wednesday evening when I made my turkey chili. I was going to download some new jams, go for a run, eat all the chili, watch American Horror Story and Top Chef…

Instead, I received a phone call that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

I found out that my friend Kelly had passed away after an 18 month long battle with breast cancer.

I worked with Kelly for just under two years at my previous job. There, we were cordial colleagues who became friends. Kelly was one of the kindest women I have had the pleasure of working with. She had big brown eyes and a large smile that would light up her entire face. Every time she passed my desk, she would call, “Hi Miss Lizzie Lizzie!” To which I became in the habit of responding, “Hi Miss Kelly Kelly!” She was extremely smart and good at her job but yet she never raised her voice or belittled others to get ahead in her field. Yet, when a social gaffe occurred during a meeting and all I wanted to do was to laugh, I knew I could look up and Kelly would catch my eye and sometimes give me a little wink. When we would go down to Starbucks together, she adorably ordered hot chocolate because she confessed that she couldn’t stand the taste of coffee. Her children were her world, and she would tell stories of what her mischievous twin girls were up to and her out-numbered, much harassed son.

When we found out about her diagnosis, I couldn’t help but repeat, “Not Kelly.” Not that anyone in this world should deserve such news. But not Kelly.

As you can imagine, Kelly was the epitome of class—made up of thin invisible steel as Betty Smith would say—during her treatments and persistently stayed up beat. She had every reason to complain daily and yet she never did. In fact, she would turn the conversation around to find out more about how you were doing.

Up until her final day, she was optimistic and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

After I received the news and had my initial cry, I went to my friend Melissa’s and brought my turkey chili. There we cried, ate chili, drank Great Lakes Christmas Ale (which could be a contender for nectar of the gods), and blew our noses because I accidentally added 3 to 4 teaspoons of Habanero sauce to the chili. After that, we went to our friend Beth’s and had our own version of an Irish wake with alcohol, chili, and cookies; we alternatively laughed and cried with our shared recollections.

If I could be so bold, Kelly probably would have frowned at the tears and and teased about the alcohol. She might have been down with the chili but definitely would have given two enthusiastic thumbs up for the cookies and the laughter.

Needless to say, I will always miss Kelly.

I can admit now that my attempts at humor at the beginning of this post took a lot of energy and were difficult to come up with. But to adapt my home girl Audrey Hepburn’s quotation, laughter has a habit of curing a multitude of ills.

This made me laugh today: an adorable CGI baby narwhal from this strange English commercial for biscuits.

If you could do anything today, right now—please keep Kelly’s family and her close friends in your thoughts. Call/email/text/yodel to your loved ones and let them know just how much you love them. And find out more how we can help find the cure (here and here).

Sie Lizzie D xxx