Things I'm Into Right Now.

After Saturday's serious post, and to keep my mind off more serious things like Whitney Houston passing away or that deer we hit and killed last night on our way home from the Ren Fair, I figured I'd keep today's post light and full of likeable things.

How I Met Your Mother

Oh my God, Todd and I are so obsessed with this show right now. We're watching three episodes at a time on Netflix, we're watching the reruns on KTTU, we're talking about how funny this damn show is. I won't bore you with a summary of the show's plot because it's been on for like six years already. All this means to me, really, is that we have six years' worth of shows to watch before we're all caught up and we have to add another gem to our list of Must Watch Weekly shows.

Kroger Brand Black Cherry Greek Yogurt

Ignore the fact that this photo is of their plain yogurt (only one I could find), because there is nothing more delicious and more reasonably priced than this brand and flavor of yogurt. Unlike Kroger's strawberry flavor, there are some legitimate slices of cherries in this bad boy. I typically have a smoothie for breakfast but since discovering delicious Black Cherry, I've opted to just eat it by itself. No reason to dress it up!

Cover Girl Lip Perfection Lipstick in Sultry

I know there are tons of better lipsticks out there, higher quality, better formulas, blah blah blah. But I am genuinely surprised with this shade. I already have a couple of dark shades and, with an antsy toddler in my cart, I didn't have a lot of time to pore over the numerous more muted shades. And the color shown above doesn't look very pale does it? But it's a great daytime shade and I'm really happy I found it.

Sriracha

This is actually more for Todd's benefit than mine, but I do love me some sriracha hot sauce. Todd, however, puts it on everything. Eggs, sandwiches, and it's even pushed out Tapatio for his quesadillas. And you know what? It tastes really freaking good on quesadillas. My brother in law Scott, upon first acquainting himself with the stuff, literally drizzled enough on his casserole dish to make it look like it was strawberry icing, and while it certainly gave him a spicy kick to the teeth, he fell so in love with it that, as my sister in law Amery puts it, "We have two bottles in the house at all times: the one in use, and the unopened one waiting for him."

Lamebook

Ok, this site is hilarious. Dedicated to the lamest and/or most amazing facebook statuses, pictures, and comments out there, it's really a show case of how witty and how utterly idiotic we are. From typos to photo bombs, puns and FB conversations between an accused rapist and the sheriff's department, this site is guaranteed to keep you utterly entertained.

Update: New Year's Resolutions.

So, I've not done a single thing to help myself better understand photography or Mandarin Chinese, but one thing has definitely stuck these past six weeks: self improvement. It wasn't something I had really posted about, because it was more of a general, vague idea of a resolution. Improve myself across the board, even if just in small little ways.

For example, when it's 8:30 at night and I'm just now getting dinner on the stove, and I'm tired from work and sore from a workout, if I toss a used paper towel into the trash can from across the kitchen and I miss, I'd typically just leave it there until I find myself on that side of the room, or (disgusting, I know) until the next day. Now, however, I make myself march on over there and pick it up. Laziness, be gone.

To be perfectly honest, we're not nasty pigs or anything. I clean the house every Wednesday, do laundry twice a week, we run the dishes once, sometimes twice a day. But I won't lie. We cut corners. And sometimes my fatigue can get the better of me.

So there's one example.

Another is Romance. Todd and I love each other dearly; we kiss often, cuddle every night, do many things together. But I wanted to add a little bit of that giddy puppy love we had before. So I decided to pepper him with love notes. Little post its tucked here and there; in his wallet, on his rearview mirror, on the next month's page in the calendar, on the bathroom mirror before I leave for work. At first I thought maybe I was going overboard and doing it so often that I removed the specialness from it, but Todd assured me, even finding a note every day made him smile, and made him happy.

So there's another example.

Aside from those types of things, however, an area of focus that kept coming back to me was, quite specifically, me. Jil, as a woman, as a person. I'm trying to lose weight, and the holidays coupled with a serious reduction of work outs (though without a serious reduction of "I'm trianing for a triathlon, I can eat anything!" attitude) and a few bouts of illness really set me back. All the weight I'd lost during the first two months of training came right back with a vengence, and then I gained an additional five pounds. Something had to give.

There was that. Then, when I was in H&M trying on clothes, something else dawned on me. I looked positively shabby. There I was in this glossy store full of size four college girls with perfect hair, accessories and not just clothes, but outfits. Everyone was pulled together. So I got into the dressing room and I stared at myself. I stared. Here is what I saw:

1. Neglected body. Pudgy, disrespected through poor diet though I had been putting it through its triathlon paces. I felt so sorry for it.
2. Neglected face. No blush, no lipstick, just some eyeshadow and mascara that looked like I had put it on 10 hours ago, which was true. And I looked so tired.
3. Neglected hair. It's on the super dry side so I try to never, ever heat style it, only wash it every other day, etc. It was bumpy from being slept on wet, it was lifeless and even though it was clean, it looked dirty. I felt so sorry for it.
4. Neglected clothes. A stretched out cowl necked top that was doing nothing for me. Baggy Gap jeans that only fit well for the first 20 minutes out of the dryer. Nice enough brands but they'd done their duty, they needed replacing.

And you know what? You'd think all that would send me into a tailspin of tears and depression but it didn't. I mean, I wanted to cry, but I sucked it up because all of these things were fixable and I always love problem solving. Also, some things finally dawned on me.

Because I still have weight that I want to lose, I have been considering myself in an in-between state, neither at the start or the end of my journey to a better figure. Therefore I have been neglecting myself. Even worse, I have not considered myself worthy of nice, new things. And that was like a slap in the face. I have not been loving myself and respecting myself the way that I should, the way that I deserve. As a mother to a daughter, that, in my opinion, is especially heinous in the way of setting an example. No matter you weight, no matter your anything, you should never put yourself in a corner. Baby didn't deserve it, and neither do you.

What would I say to Alex if she were older? "Mommy, why are your clothes so frumpy?" "Because Alexandra, since I'm not currently fitting into the ideal I have in my head, I don't deserve to do nice things for myself. Now let's get you dressed for dance class!"

Another thing I realized is that who cares if I buy clothes now and in six months, when I've lost weight, they don't fit? If I love them enough, I'll have them altered. The point is, life is not a destination. It's not just getting into the jeans you wore on your honeymoon, it's not just crossing the finish line of a triathlon or completing a class on photography or Mandarin, it's getting there. I know we all know this, but I think it's surprising how the exact opposite of that truth can seep into our lives and our perceptions of the smaller things in life.

So that's why I've altered my resolutions. Self Improvement is taking over (besides I can't afford a nice camera right now and Chinese is fucking hard). I'm adding some interval strength trainings to my weekly workouts. I'm cutting out all booze during the week and being more vigilant about calorie counting and eating good wholesome foods instead of sandwiches from Melt and homemade breakfast burritos every day.

I bought lipsticks and I'm doing my hair every day, only taking careful consideration of the drier ends of my hair. I bought new clothes. I'm creating ~outfits~ instead of throwing on some old jeans that won't make my muffin top a souffle top and a loose shirt to cover up in case it happens. I'm accessorizing daily now. I'm wearing cute dresses after my nightly shower instead of yoga pants, Todd's flannel shirt and no bra. I'm thinking of myself now. It feels so good. It's so nice doing these little things for myself. I feel so much better about myself too, because instead of demanding change out of myself because I'm worthless as I am now, I am changing myself because I deserve the good life, however I can get it.

In other words, 2012, The Year of the Dragon, is actually turning out to be a little more like The Year of the Jil.

Mommy's Little Hoarder

Now, it's not like she's the creepy old lady from Labyrinth or anything...

For many, many reasons, obviously. But when you require Cheerios, a milk sippy, a Halloween kitty and a garlic press to go into Fry's?

Well I just don't know what to say about that. Not when you come from a family who tries traveling so light, Todd usually just crams a diaper in the pocket of his cargo shorts before taking her out for errands. Not when my own diaper bag consists of two big burp cloths (upon which I lay her), two diapers and a travel pack of wipes, all bound together with a hair tie and shoved in my purse.

A garlic press? Really?

And Now For Something Completely Different.

A cat in a refrigerator!


This guy was born looking for the next free meal. And he was looking for his next free meal made of human food. Observe:

Ooh, milk.

I'd like to take a moment to defend the state of our painfully empty fridge. We definitely spend a lot on groceries each week, but by the end of the week, this is what it looks like. So at least I know we're not throwing money down the drain. Every Saturday morning, it's barren like this.  Except this time, it also had a cat in it.

Although I'll admit, I have no idea what that thing is there, that Bingley just found to play around with:

And hey, the benefit of having nothing in the fridge is that you're not too worried about anything spoiling as you stand around in your pajamas with the refrigerator door open, taking photos of an adorable pain in the ass cat, scavenging for scraps.

Sweat is Fat Crying? Ew, but true.

I was on theberry.com yesterday and they had a gallery of motivational posters, and one of them had a little workout consisting of two pyramid-style intervals. I just did them and my thighs want to physically remove themselves from my body to go soak in an ice bath, and since I mean that in a good way, I figured I would share the workout with you.

Cardio Pyramid


20 High Knees *
40 Butt Kicks
80 Jumping Jacks
100 Seconds of Running in Place
80 Jumping Jacks
40 Butt Kicks
20 High Knees

Legs Pyramid


20 Squats
30 Lunges (15 each leg)
40 Toe Touches
50 Seconds of Wall Sit
100 Jumping Jacks
50 Seconds of Wall Sit
40 Toe Touches
30 Lunges (15 each leg)
20 Squats

*The man in this video shames me in my leggings

It sounds easy but the first round of doing the wall sit, my quads were so tight from the cardio pyramid and squats and lunges that they almost seized up. I had to take a second and start over. I was extremely pleased with this work out. Short, sweet, to the point, and not utterly exhausting to where you couldn't add in your own ab pyramid. But it still did the job. This was the aftermath:

 To steal the words from Drew Barrymore's character in Charlie's Angels: "And that's kicking your ass!"

Impatience and Mortality.

I'm a very impatient person. I get antsy, restless, stir crazy. I'm talking from big things, like when Todd and I planned our wedding, to little things, like why does it take so long to toast an English Muffin, or why does an instant read thermometer still take eight seconds?

It's not that I'm a bitch about it, but I can't even say that it doesn't cause me to freak out on a minor "Oh my God hurry up!!" way. The wedding planning was horrible, almost, because I couldn't stand the limbo-like state of being, for an entire year, in the nothing-is-quite-done stage. It niggled at me, and itched, and scratched, and really upped the antsiness. But I need to get over that, because life is a constant state of nothing-is-quite-done, because if it's all done then you're dead.

The driving force behind this is beyond me, but it might be linked to my extreme need for multi-tasking. Watching TV is usually more like watching TV, surfing the internet and playing Words With Friends, or doing my nails, or thumbing through cookbooks. While the water fills in the tub or in the washing machine, I like doing other tasks at the same time, instead of doing simple chores, THEN filling the tub or washing machine. Because those things don't require constant supervision, to not multi-task at that time feels like a shameful waste of my precious time.

And time is precious. Perhaps then the driving force behind my impatience is a sense of my own mortality? It could be. I'm not one of those cool hip people who talk about how they're prepared to die, how they've lived a great life and if they are destined to be plucked from this world, this life, then so be it. Oh hell, no. I am pee-my-pants terrified of dying before my time, and my time will be when I'm about 110. I don't want to die. I don't want to leave Alexandra and Todd, I don't want to die before having more children, before hopefully publishing my story, before spending all the time possible with my family. I want to kiss Todd four million more times. I want to cuddle with Alex until my arms ache from holding her.

I'd like to go to Disneyland, too.

So, if a sense of one's own fragile claim to a little plot of life here on earth, of how trembling and tenuous and brittle that claim is and how easily it can be blown to dust by even the flimsiest of breezes, if that is the reason behind impatience, then should it not also be a reason to try to attain a more patient outlook on life? Because while I love multi-tasking to save time, I also spend an awful lot of time detached from the present, and thinking about all the stuff I have to do later in the day. To-do lists haunt me, even though I love them. I'm constantly thinking ahead to what needs to be done.

Like, in this short series of photos, what was I thinking of? At least I know what she was doing while we took these photos. Apparently what I do when I take a photo of her is this: I take it, then flip the camera around to look at the photo of Alex, and go "Oh, cute!" because all she did, after every time I took one of these photos is grab the camera and go "Oh, cute!"

But where was I, where was I really? Was I thinking of making dinner while cuddling with Alex? It was taken on the 24th of January, a Tuesday. So I know that I could have been thinking of that triathlon run through I did the very next day. Or was I thinking of Kendra's wedding, which was on the 28th? I don't know but I am fairly certain my mind was partially elsewhere.
One thing I've realized since having Alexandra is how heightened that sense of my own mortality is now. Once we had Alex, it became clear that my time, our time, from here on out really, was primarily for the raising of our child(ren - one day). I do not mean that in a bad way at all, either. It was a revelation that sort of floored me when she was about six months old. I remember on family walks, talking to Todd about it, talking about it with him over dinner, in bed with the lights off. It's not bad, though, it truly is a good thing.

Children are miracles and blessings, so it's an honor. The torch had passed from me to Alex. I had been raised, taken care of and then when I hit adulthood, I took care of myself. I was my number one goal, I was my favorite body, as Todd would say. Now, that's changed. Alexandra is our number one goal and most certainly our favorite body. It's perfect for snuggles.

But while that torch had passed and while I'm honored and blessed to spend the rest of my days caring for my children, helping them grow strong and confident, nurtured and yet independent, it also means that my own time, time that is absolutely 100% about me, is over. And, not to sound melodramatic, but just truthful, that takes me one step closer to the other side of the veil, so to speak. And that scares the shit out of me.

The other side to this coin, though, this coin of Children Making One Aware Of One's Own Mortality, is how a growing child makes it so vividly clear how quickly time passes. It's terrifying, almost, and how it literally is like trying to grab a handful of sand and keep it in your fist: impossible. It will slip away from you. And now it's no longer marked by changing hair styles, new fashion trends, another Christmas to look forward to. It's nothing so vague, so sneak-up-on-you as that.

Now, it's growing out of clothes in two months, it's learning the alphabet in one month, it's being able to reach stuff on the bathroom counter, it's saying "Oh thank you!" all of a sudden, it's a vacuum bag, four feet tall and two feet wide, full of baby clothes that no longer fit, it's a baby gaining a sense of humor and a sense of self, it's a toddler brushing her own teeth or trying to put mommy's bra on or hanging all by herself on the soccer goal at the park because challenges are her bread and butter:

It's all these little things. These little victories, these little markers of a life that moves entirely too fast for my taste. Not just for the tombstone that marks its completion, 78 years in my future (God that's too soon), but for the baby that I already miss, because she's such a little person now. Every time I find myself at work thinking of my work out, or at the gym, thinking of making Alex dinner, or making her dinner thinking of tub time, bed time, my own shower, our own dinner, etc, I realize that while I'm thinking of something else, time is literally flying by. I'm losing time by trying to fill it up with other things. I'm missing out on my little girl when my head is elsewhere, or if I'm trying to cuddle her, watch Wheel of Fortune and fold socks all at once.

I'm not sure if I'll ever be a truly patient person, or become less frenetic in my own skin so that I may sit and do one thing only and be fully present for it, but I do hope, at least where my baby girl is (and hopefully future children are) concerned, I will make sure to stop everything, clear my head of all the other stuff, and be in the moment. To marvel at them, to devote myself to them in the little minutes as utterly as I've devoted my life and my calling to them.

Easy Fried Chicken

Holy shit, a food post!

No pictures were taken during the making of this meal because as a clumsy person, I felt it wise not to hover over a cast iron skillet full of scalding hot oil, with a digital camera, whilst several flour-coated chicken pieces sizzled, snapped, popped and fried away. But, I have several leftover drumsticks with gorgeous crispy crusts and will take a photo and add it to this post later on this evening.

I had a huge craving for nasty fried chicken from KFC or better, Church's Chicken on Saturday so yesterday I bought a pack of 12 drumsticks as a little shout out to my 10 year old self who loved nothing more than a drumstick in each hand, even though it made eating my pasta a little difficult.

I got to frying around 7pm, after which I transferred the fried pieces onto a cast iron griddle pan and popped then in the oven to complete the cooking process. During the time they were in the oven, Todd came down with what had plagued me earlier in the week, which rendered him completely incapable of eating, which is why I have so many goddamn leftover pieces. But I digress. On to the recipe!

Easy Fried Chicken
serves 1 - ?!?!

Several chicken pieces, however many you want
1 cup buttermilk (if you do not have buttermilk, add 1 tbsp white vinegar to 1 cup milk, wait 5 minutes, then proceed)
2 cups flour
2 tbsp paprika
salt and pepper to taste
1 cup vegetable oil


Set oven to 400. Skin your chicken, if you so desire (I did; I wanted fried chicken but was willing to do whatever I could to lessen the calorie bomb) Put flour and spices together in a ziplock bag and set aside. Pour buttermilk into a bowl. You are ready!

Dip chicken pieces in buttermilk and then, about three pieces at a time, put into the bag of flour, zip it closed and shake, shake, shake, senora.

Then put the flour-coated chicken pieces on a cookie sheet. Do not start frying until the flour has turned paste-like on the chicken. This is apparently a very important step! I used this time to heat up my oil in a cast iron skillet; if you don't have one, choose the largest skillet you have with as high a lip as possible.

Once the flour looks like it's sort of soaked into the chicken, drop those bad boys into the oil. Don't overcrowd though; it lowers the heat of the oil which could produce soggy chicken, not crispy which is what we want. Unless you are insane. It's best to fry them up in batches.

Flip the pieces and once they look nice and golden brown, remove and place on either a broiler rack, a wire rack or, like I did, use a cast iron griddle pan (it has the raised slat thingies that provides some space for the oil/fat to drip off).

Once all the batches are fried, turn off the heat to your oil and pop the chicken into the oven for approximately 20 - 30 minutes. I did mine closer to 20 because they were all drumsticks and I didn't have any bigger pieces.

Remove from oven and set aside to cool. Once they're cool enough to tear into like a wild animal, well, do it. Neither harbor nor express any feelings of guilt or remorse as you devour not one or two peices, but three. Three amazing morsels of fried, but not altogether super-badly fried, chicken.

DELICIOUS.