Goooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllllllllllllllll.

I think it's inevitable to start off a new year with some sort of goal setting. Whether they're actually resolutions or flights of fancy, we all would like to think that the first day of the first month of the new year offers a clean slate.

I myself am not immune to this and in fact am a part of a goal setting group. When I found out I was pregnant with Monkey, I joined an amazing Facebook group filled with amazing women who were due around the same time. One of its off shoots was a group devoted strictly to motivating whomever joined to do their best, set goals in place and encourage each other when there were highs and lows. Recently, we've been talking about what we want to accomplish in this next year and admittedly, at first, I struggled.

Since having Monkey, I feel like a complete idiot most of the time. Mommy brain is, for lack of a better term, a bitch. I forget things, repeat myself, get sidetracked easily, all things that would've drive my pre-pregnancy self crazy. I suppose this is one of God's ways of pointing and laughing and still teaching me a lesson. Thanks for that.

I was able to finally put down some ideas and I thought I'd share them here. Putting your goals in writing is half the battle. It doesn't mean you'll actually achieve them, but you do have a higher chance.

1) Run away. Run every chance I get. Run here. Run there. Just run. I'm never so truly centered as when I am running. I even found some mommy friends to do virtual runs with me since I work weekends and will most likely be out this racing season.

2) Cook. I did not realize how cathartic cooking is for me until a few weeks ago when I was able to cook every day of the week. It was almost zen like. My soul feels better when I get to feed my family. Watching Monkey wolf down home cooking was extremely rewarding. Plus I need fodder for my Friday food posts.

3) It's all about me...when it comes to my blog. For so long I tried to figure out how to make my blog become this mega hit, with guest posts from the likes of Gwyneth and any Food Network star. And it felt as fake as it was. So now I blog with my original intent: just to write. I've loved writing since I was a little girl. One of the first jobs I ever said I wanted was a journalist. Sadly, you have to do a lot of writing in college to become a journalist and ironically, I hate formal writing. I can do it and do it well, I just don't want to. So wah.

There are probably other goals that I'm forgetting like saving more and spending less. Those have more do with my family and feel a little too personal to put out there. But these three are just about me and what I need for myself, which I'm learning is just as valuable as the wife-me or the mom-me. The me-me is the one that makes sure all the other me's are functioning on a somewhat human level. The me-me thinks I need more coffee.

How about you? What are your goals for you-you? Who's climbing Mt Everest this year or painting the next Sistine Chapel?

Heartbreaker

So far, in my short life, the scariest words uttered in the same sentence were "your mom" and "heart attack," which were then followed by sentences including the uber frightful phrase: "quadruple bypass." And while hearing  this is actually really easy, it's the processing and trying to concentrate on the subsequent utterings that will send you into a tailspin.

It's also the realizing that you are some three thousand miles away and barely a week into your brand new position. Nothing makes you feel more helpless than only being able to offer encouragement instead of hugs. I asked Maternal Unit if she needed me there and her response? "No. There's nothing for you to do here." Well I wasn't planning on scrubbing into the surgery Mother. Sheesh.

I only cried once during the whole ordeal. The day of Maternal Unit's surgery (which ended up only being a triple bypass), I received some coupons that she had cut out and sent to me. Maternal Unit is always worried about whether or not I'm eating and/or using soap. Considering I've been married three years, gained nearly twenty pounds and smell like baby powder, I would say her fears are unfounded. I also know that there is no convincing her differently and that is what had me dissolving into a sobbing pubble of mess. One minute I was considering if I seventy-five cents off Tide was worth it (it's not by the way) and the next I had Melodie in a choke hold, blubbering into her fur. It happened so fast that Husband had to do a double take to make sure he was seeing his normally overally composed wifey having a breakdown. Hugs and shoulder pats ensued and the tears stopped as quickly as they started because if there's one thing (out of the zillions) that Maternal Unit and I share in common, it's that, while crying may make you feel better, it won't actually solve anything. Unless the problem is a contact that has worked it's way up under your eyelid, then crying is the perfect solution.

It's been over a month since everything happened. I call two, sometimes three times, a week to check on both Parental Units. The doctor said that Maternal Unit's heart is very strong and other than being trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey (she has a wire holding her ribs shut) and a loss of stamina, she's doing very well. All of the running (yes running!) she did when she was in her twenties and thirties and then the bike riding in her fifties definitely helped save her life. She has always encouraged me to be active, run hard, walk the dogs, do something to maintain a healthy lifestyle. And with heart disease being the number one killer of women, I don't think I need anymore motivation to lace up the Reeboks and take on the road, always with Maternal Unit's voice saying, "Good for you Poopy! Now, have you eaten today?"

Food Friday

I have to admit, I found this week challenged me foodily and not in a good way. I could never quite get on the same page as my menu and I found that my kitchen just wouldn't stay clean. Throw in the rain and 40 mph gusts of wind, and it's just been one of those weeks. Case in point: I have a carpet runner in the washing machine because Husband couldn't get Mandie out the door fast enough this morning. I don't know if you can actually wash a carpet runner in the washing machine but Maternal Unit suggested the delicate cycle, so we'll see what happens (apparently, I'm way too lazy to track down my Little Green machine). I did manage to come up with some edible items, so here they are in all...their mediocrity.



Slow Cooker Ham

We're a total turkey for Thanksgiving, ham for Christmas family and I only make my ham in the slow cooker. I also ate the piece with all the crispiness on it. It was delish.

Husband devoured this ham, which I glazed with my own homemade glaze. Okay, are you ready for this? Are you sure, because it's complex. Take a half cup pineapple juice and a half cup brown sugar and put them in a saucepan and bring it to a boil, stirring continuously, until thickened. Pour over ham. I know, I'm totally full of myself.

So this year, I went very low key. Instead of making everything myself (short of growing whatever veggie I decided to make), previous holiday food had all been from scratch. This year I had to work 12 am to 8 am at The Hotel, so I knew I wasn't going to want to cook when I got home. So it was corn from a can, brown and serve rolls from Safeway and the mashed potatoes were from scratch. Because I make the best mashed potatoes. Just ask anyone (who values their life).

source

Once a week, I end up having to work back to back shifts at both jobs and with the need to get enough sleep, I don't have the time to really cook, so we have a Freezer Food day. That's right, I buy frozen entrees and myself an extra hour hour of sleep. This week, we had Margaritaville Calypso Coconut Shrimp, which were quite tasty but don't expect Red Lobster perfection here. The biggest plus, though, was the abundance of sauce they give you. One packet totally sauces 12 shrimp and I'm a huge double (okay, triple) dipper. Kudos on the sauce Margaritaville!

Out of the frying pan and ready for the oven

I will say, though, while this week was particularly humdrum, I did conquer one of my fears: frying food. *wild applause here* I am deathly afraid that I will somehow spark the Apocalypse by frying anything. However, when I came across a recipe for Taco Bell Mexican Pizzas at Fantastical Sharing of Recipes, I couldn't resist. The Taco Bell inspired grilled stuffed burritos had been such a huge success, I thought, why not try to recreate the whole menu?! (okay maybe not the whole menu, but at least the stuff I like). Anywho, I used a whole pound of ground turkey versus a half pound, so I turned mine into double decker Mexican pizzas.

Whatever the Spanish is for "eat me," insert that here.

These were really good, except you wouldn't know it from Husband. Unbeknownst to me, he'd picked up something to eat (from Taco Bell, ironically enough) right before coming home. Well, all was not lost, as I've now popped my frying cherry (wow that really does read just as disgusting as it sounds and yet I can't bring myself to delete it). It's like a whole new world for me.

So, did you try your hand at something new this week? Flambe perhaps or maybe making ketchup from scratch?

**Crazy Cooking Challenge!!** The other "F" word

I would like to start off this post by saying that I started out ahead of the game for this Crazy Cooking Challenge. I found my fudge recipe before my mashed potato recipe was even in the pot. However, after an epic fail to end all other epic fails, I had to abandon my original choice, which I'm okay with because I think what I did end up making is pretty fantastic.

This challenge was definitely stretching for me. Once I found a new recipe after the first fudge failure, I was thrilled! I came across this recipe for Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Fudge from Bridget at Bake at 350 on Pinterest. Now I usually detest chocolate chips unless they're completely melted into my cookie (I have a tendency to eat around them when chowing down on raw cookie dough); I must say, though, that in this recipe, the chips help keep the fudge from being overly sweet. However, once I printed out the instructions and started to get everything around, I noticed that in my haste to rescue this post, I had ignored to key elements of this recipe. 1) A candy thermometer was called for and 2) so was a stand mixer with a paddle attachment. Other "f" word!

After two phone calls to the Maternal Unit, a trip to the kitchen store (which is luckily right across the sidewalk from job #2) and some tequila (okay no tequila as I had to go to work but on my next day off I'm making up for it with a pitcher of pomegranate margaritas), I was able to get to work.

Behold! My candy thermometer. Oh and everything stirred together, nice and smooth.

Just keep stirring. Just keep stirring. Holy crap is it supposed to look like that?!

Cooling down (note: there is no olive oil in this recipe, I just needed something for the thermometer to lean against).

So this is the point where it calls for a paddle attachment. Well I've got your paddle attachments right here. *holds up both hands*

Above all else, IT TURNED OUT! Perfect.

My kitchen, on the other hand, is a whole other story.

 So that's it, my first time making fudge without Maternal Unit and marshmallow creme. I can safely say it will be at least another year before I feel the need to recreate the process. Next month for the Crazy Cooking Challenge is Chicken Noodle Soup so stay tuned for whatever I come up with and don't forget to vote for me #35! Or don't. I won't know if you don't. But there's someone who will. *reverently looks up*

**Meatless Monday** A Cranberry Tale

In high school I discovered my drink of choice, cranberry juice. Not sure why Maternal Unit started buying it but it soon became very difficult to keep in the house. If given the opportunity, I would drink the entire carton, which would then end in misery as cranberry juice is not cheap and Maternal Unit would get heated that she had not even gotten a sip (once she discovered how many carbs are actually in the juice, however, the issue was dropped and I got the juice all to myself).

Now while I love the tart and sweet nectar of the gods, especially when conjoined with vodka, I had a hatred of cranberry sauce, that all too well known staple of holiday tables, most identifiable in its cylindrical shape. This is how it appeared on our table for many years, until one day, in the midst of one of Maternal Unit's rages against the carb, she discovered she could make it herself. Not only was it better for you, it was way cost effective, as generally the only thing she had to purchase was the cranberries themselves. Add a cup of water and a cup of sugar, boil, and voila! cranberry sauce.

This year we were invited by our neighbors to share Thanksgiving dinner with them. Thrilled as always to not have to cook, I asked what we could bring. After some deliberation, cranberry sauce and rolls were decided upon. Now, bread I've been working on since my sophomore year of college, when Middle Brother and wife bought me a bread maker. Fast forward almost six years and the machine looks like it is the last survivor of the kitchenware apocalypse but until it gives up the dough, so to speak, it will remain my most beloved appliance, inching out the crock pot only because of it's ability to give me that which my heart desires most.

Any who, with the rolls already decided upon, I sent off a quick text to Maternal just to verify her sauce recipe and she replied with what I already knew. I must say that what I managed to produce was indeed so delicious that even I partook in it. Color, taste and texture were so perfect that even our neighbors' son, Favorite Redhead, ate it, which may have had a hand in making him my favorite redhead; that and the fact that he's a perfectly delightful cuddler.

Look ma! Cranberry sauce!

How 'bout yourself? What was the one thing you made this year that came out better than anything else? Or was everything equally astounding?

I ams what I ams

Let's face it: Betty Crocker I am not. I'm not even close to being on the same kitchen plane as my Maternal Unit (who coincidentally, won a Betty Crocker Homemaker award when she was in high school; this apple fell so far from the tree we're not even the same fruit any more).

However, I don't pretend to be some culinary genius or crafty great. My creative juices flow as far as writing down a few clever phrases here, adding a half edited picture and calling it a blog. I wish I had the aptitude to spend hours in the kitchen, perfecting recipes and then putting them on display for all the world to see; after all, I certainly had the time when I was unemployed. I just don't have the desire to force myself to be in a four foot by two foot space without monetary reward.

There would, I suppose, be the pride in having other people make my recipes. The flip side of that would be the worry of ramifications if I mistyped "T" instead of "t" and someone put 2 tablespoons of yeast in their bread, which caused it to overflow in their bread machine, which let to a short in the electrical system, which shut down the fridge, which caused the milk to go bad (anyone else seen this commercial? with the laptop and the power goes out and zombies. Makes me throw up a little in my mouth every time)...I just don't think I could live with the guilt of knowing that one of my recipes caused the Zombie apocalypse.

So I spend hours pouring over Allrecipes.com and actual cookbooks and food bloggers blogs to find things to make that Husband will eat. Every week there's a menu and I'm sound in the knowledge that none of it will give me a desire to eat Husband's brains. The desire to kick him when he leaves his wet work jackets on my kitchen table, well that's another story.

My first foray into DIY food-the Cheese Turkeyburger

So, are you a completely gourmet cook, indulging your family in your every culinary whim? Or do you rely heavily on takeout menus and food that comes in reheatable Styrofoam containers? Or does your kitchen prowess lay somewhere in between?

**Meatless Monday** Powdered Milk to the Rescue

All I wanted was biscuits and gravy. That's it. Biscuits. And gravy. However, I used the last of the milk for who knows what (no seriously, I can't remember, maybe it went bad??) and had a mild panic attack, so I turned to the only source of culinary knowledge I completely trust (sort of): the Maternal Unit. She of course made brilliant suggestions, one being powdered milk, which I keep on hand for baking purposes, and now for emergency biscuit and gravy cravings. Didn't turn out too badly and my cravings have been officially subdued.

This is how we make biscuits at work. This is how I will make them from now on. I suggest you do the same.

Biscuits and gravy from the Queen of Improvisation

So do you always have everything on hand when a craving comes a callin'? Or do you like to fly by the seat of your pants?

PS Megan at My Little Miss Stubborn posted her last 31 for 21 post. Make sure to check it out and catch up on any of the other 30 days you might have missed (my personal faves are 2 and 29).

PSs Happy Howwwwwwwwloween!

Bright light!