Gummies

Have we had a conversation yet about how much I love my gummy vitamins/supplements? Because, if we haven't, we need to.

I love them.

They're like candy, except they're full of vitamins. So, basically health food that's candy.

Win/win, right?!

My love affair with the gummies started when I had a consult with my GP doctor pre-chemo and she advised that I start taking D3, because I was about to lose any quality time I was used to getting with the sun. I made a face (as I am wont to do when medical professionals tell me I need to swallow more pills), and she immediately came back with "They have gummies! They're delicious, and do exactly the same thing that pills do."

SOLD!

Since I started with the D3 gummies in February, I've slowly and steadily been finding more gummies to add to my daily regimen. (Mult-vitamins? No, thank you. I'd rather chew two separate pieces of fruity candy for every kind of vitamin.)

I'm up to five different kinds of gummies (that's 10 gummies a day - basically a package of fruit snacks). One of which is this swell fiber supplement.

Don't judge. Some of us need to eat, like, 200% of our daily recommended fiber (plus stool softeners and laxatives) if we want to poop. (Some of us = me, btw. Please don't lose your cool and be jealous of my awesome guts and how much help they need just to plod along.)

Jo had bought me a massive Costco bottle of these fiber goodies during chemo (I think there were 400 in the bottle), and I finished them up just yesterday.

When I was packing for Houston, I realized I was almost out of these bad boys, and because I knew the last thing I'd want to do when I got back would be to go to WalMart to buy more gummies... I ordered a bottle from Amazon. (Prime has its perks. Free shipping is the best!) (Also, I was right. Because I was pretty much out of toothpaste before I went to Houston. My intention was to use the rest of the tube and then leave it in the hotel trash bin. ... That's definitely not what happened. I brought that empty tube of toothpaste home, and I've been squeezing the life out of it, morning, noon and night, because I don't want new toothpaste bad enough to make myself go to the store for it. I'm super lame.)

Anyhoo... as I was saying, I finished up the gigantor bottle of fiber goodies yesterday. Which meant that I had to go to the office to pick up my mail today, to get the new bottle of gummies that had come while I was out of town. (Yeah, I've been home for four days and have yet to go to the store for toothpaste. And I'd been letting mail pile up in the office since I left town last Wednesday. I'm the greatest.)

And, this, ladies and gentleman is what I found...

I promise you that A) this is not what I ordered. You can tell, because the bottle says "sugar free" and we all know that this girl loves her sugar. 

And B) Those aren't gummies. That's just one, giant, solid.

Also, proof that there's something different about the dark pink ones. (I always thought they tasted weird. Looks like there's a reason for that. They're the one flavor that didn't melt into the mass. Grody.)

I have no idea what happened. (I mean, besides extreme heat. That definitely happened.) The package had been sitting in the air-conditioned office all weekend, so it's not like the 117 degree heat got to it as it was sitting on my porch. My guess is the Fed Ex truck's A/C went out and everyone who got anything delivered on Friday got soup.

At any rate, I have no fiber gummies. You'd think this would make me get dressed and go to the store. Uhm... no. Instead, I ate a bowl of grapes and two peaches and have decided to have popcorn for dinner. Surely, that's enough fiber to offset the gummies I didn't eat today.

Maybe I'll go to the store tomorrow. For fiber gummies. And toothpaste. And some more grapes, since I ate everything that was in my fridge this afternoon...

My new favorite thing

One of the perks of my weirdie post-operative diet is that sometimes I discover new things that I love.

Things like (drumroll, please)...

That's right. Chocolate almond milk.

Back in the days when my belly was anti-dairy, I saw the carton of Silk dark chocolate almond milk in the refrigerated dairy case in the WalMart and I thought "How bad can it be?"

Answer: Not bad. Not bad AT ALL.

I mean... I think I may love this stuff as much as I love BYU Creamery's chocolate milk. (Which is saying something. Because I'd marry BYU Creamery's chocolate milk. In the temple. Which is to say that I would commit to drinking this stuff for time and all eternity. And that's a lot of love.)

A few weeks into my recent addiction to chocolate almond milk, I saw the carton of Blue Diamond chocolate almond milk in the store and I thought I'd give that a shot. (I mean, I used to looooooove the Blue Diamond brand of roasted/smoked almonds that I would sneak out of my mom's underwear drawer when I was a kid. Blue Diamond KNOWS almonds. I know this. So, I figured it would be delish.)

Luckily, I still had a little Silk brand milk in ye olde refrigerator, so when I came home I was able to do a not-so blind taste test. (When a girl lives alone and she is the only one who can pour said milk into glasses, it's hard to be truly blind. But still, I made an effort to be exact and non-partial. ... Ya'll know how much I love science and try to be as accurate as possible in taste-test matters.)

And the survey says: While the Blue Diamond brand is not disgusting, the Silk brand kicks its trash.

So, fellow fans of chocolate milk, I've gotta say that *I fully endorse the Silk Dark Chocolate Almond Milk.

I am never without it these days. (Seriously. I have a half gallon in my fridge at home. I also have a half gallon in the fridge at the bank, labeled, so everyone knows it's mine.) And the carton says that this stuff has twice the calcium of regular milk. So, it's basically health food -- that tastes like chocolate. Win/win!

* That said, it is my understanding that the quality of the product in the half gallon container far exceeds the quality of the product in the single-serving containers. As in so many areas of life, the slogan "Go big or go home!" applies here.

Argh

My one, single, solitary gripe about The Sweetest Comeback in the History of Ever...

I can't, for the life of me, find one of these:

It seems that the people of Hostess chose not to bring back the dang blackberry pie when their product was resurrected and put back on the shelves of grocery stores and gas stations across the nation. Argh.

Now, I know this pie is chock full of sugar (and the crust is 100% white flour), so I couldn't really digest it... even if I could find one.

But man alive... what I wouldn't give for two (okay, three) bites of an old school blackberry pie.

'Tis the season

You guys know how much I love Oreos, right? (And, if you don't... SHAME ON YOU for not having paid attention when I had to create a food rule specific to double-stuffed Oreos earlier this year.)

I love them, man.

I love them... A LOT

I mean, so much.

But if there is one thing that I do love more than double-stuffed Oreos, that thing would be... CANDY CANE DOUBLE-STUFFED OREOS:

.

People.

They are SO good!

(Like, so good that I may or may not have eaten half the package since I opened them. Less than 24 hours ago. ... And I spent a good 9 hours out of the house today for work, and I got 8 hours of sleep last night. Do the math. That's a lot of Oreos in not a lot of hours.)

If you are a fellow lover of all things mint-chocolate, get thyself to the store and get a package of these bad boys! (Maybe two.)

Happy Holidays!

Happy National Donut Day!

Behold, the Key Lime Donut:

Dunkin' Donuts, I'll love you 'til the day I die.

Ya'll go out and get yourselves a donut (or 12) today, you hear?

Kindred Spirits

As many of you know, I am a lover of the written word. I mean, Lover with a capital L. ... One might even go so far as to say, LOVER in all-caps.

I heart words.

I love to write. I love to read. (I've been known to read the dictionary. ... Not kidding. Literally, pick up the dictionary and read a page, just to learn new words. Dictionary.com is one of my favorite sites, because they give sample sentences and etymology for everything.)

I'll read just about anything, but my very favorite genre is (are?) memoirs.

I enjoy both fiction and non-fiction alike. A well-told story is a thing a beauty to me. ... But a memoir? Oh, be still my beating heart! There is NOTHING that I love like the way I love hearing a person's story as told in their own words.

Right now, I am reading - and loving - My Life in France, by Julia Child (with Alex Prud'homme).

I feel it important to note that this book was gifted to me by the lovely Kathy U, the only woman I know who might love food more than I do. That she would send me Julia Child's memoir is so fitting, I have no words. I love Kathy. I love Julia. I love butter - and so do they.

From page 136:

"We experimented with recipes, tools, and ingredients, and made several useful discoveries. In working on piecrusts, for instance, we had tested French versus American ingredients. To our horror, we discovered that French flour has more body than its U.S counterpart, and that the French needed a third less fat to make a nice crumbly crust. Why was this? I wanted to know. We supposed that, in order for U.S. flour to last forever on supermarket shelves, it must have been subjected to chemical processes that removes its fats. The French flour, in contrast, was left is its natural state, although it would go "off" more quickly and become maggoty. In order to make our French recipe work for an American audience, we tested different proportions of flour-to-butter, flour-to-margarine (a substance I abhorred and referred to as "that other spread") and flour-to-Crisco; then we tasted the crusts hot and cold. Based on our experiments, we adjusted our ratios. It was labor-intensive, but a thoroughly satisfying learning process."

Ahhhh... Julia did science experiments with food and abhorred margarine. We're basically twin souls.

I have thoroughly enjoyed this book. Julia Child had an incredible memory for detail, and tells a lovely, lilting story of her life with Paul.

I feel compelled now, more than ever, to buy The Book (her name for the cookbook). ... But first, I must get back to reading. I'm about 50 pages from the end, and I have a good half hour to kill before I must leave the house and be about my daily business.

Bon Appetit!

Confessions of a popcorn addict

Do you see this bowl?

This is my popcorn bowl.

It is huge.

I mean... HUGE.

As in, it takes three bags of microwave popcorn to fill this bowl.

I'm telling you, it's a big bowl.

Tonight, I took popcorn to a movie night at a friend's house. I took this bowl FULL of popcorn, and an extra large bag of popcorn from Harkins. (I went and picked up the popcorn at the theater. Added the fancy theater butter and all.) I paid for my extra large bag - dumped it into a bag I'd brought with me, and then handed it back to the kid and asked for my free refill.

What I'm saying is... I took a lot of popcorn to this party.

And no one ate it. (Weird, right?)

When I left, I took the bowl with me. (I left the bag there, but I brought home the bowl. Not really to be nice... more, because I knew that if I had both the bowl AND the bag, I'd eat them both.)

This is how much I ate on my way home tonight.

Do you see that?

I ate more than half of my HUGE bowl of popcorn on my way home. ... It was a ten mile drive.

Man alive, I love popcorn. As in, I could eat my weight in popcorn. (Clearly.)

Tomorrow's gonna be a great day. ... Stale popcorn is right up there with chocolate cake, as far as breakfast food goes around here.

Story of my life...

So, back in December, I was trying to master peppermint fudge.

Which is not to say that I haven't been making peppermint fudge for years. I so have been. But I came up with this new PB fudge where I stacked Reese's cups between layers of fudge (I'm not going to lie... it was pretty fantastic) and it made me think that maybe I should play with my peppermint fudge and see if I could improve it.

I chopped Andes' mints and layered them between and on top of fudge (good... really pretty, but not minty enough). I added minty M&M's to the mix (adorable, with the holiday colors, but the fudge slid right off the candy shell... not so cute when a piece of fudge can't its shape).

And then I had what I was pretty sure the best idea of all time.

York. Peppermint. Patties. Stacked. Between. Layers. Of. Fudge.

It sounds good, right?

But it wasn't.

The peppermint patties made the fudge too... fudgey. It was kind of thick and chewy. And weird.

The flavor was good, and it was beautiful, with the dark chocolate layered against the white/peppermint. But the consistency was off, so I didn't make it again. Instead, I stashed the rest of the bag (the "family-sized bag", mind you) in my pantry and went about my business. ("My business" being that of forgetting the peppermint patties existed, and eating all the M&M's and Cadbury eggs in my house while I was on that stupid no-candy-buying binge from January through March.)

I ran across the half-empty bag the other day. It was like Christmas all over again.

And now... they're gone. Because I have, like, negative self control when it comes to candy.

Story of my life.

I. Heart. Shoes.

It's true.

I do.

I love them.

So, I used to have these brown heeled sandals that I looooved. ... But they started to break - oh, over two years ago - and I monkey glued them back together one too many times. (Notice that I did not super glue them. Some lessons may take me a while to learn, but eventually, I do learn them.)

The last time I monkey glued the sandals, I glued one of the straps in the wrong place. The glue set. The straps were uneven. My right shoe didn't fit my foot right. ... Oh, and the cover on the heels was buckling and the leather flower trim was starting to fray. ... Anyway, I retired the brown sandals. Right into the trash. After, like, six years.

It was a tragedy. I am telling you that I have felt a personal loss.

And now that it's springtime, I have been particularly missing them. (Which translates into: I am feeling the need for some new brown sandals.) So, I hit the shoe store on my way home from work tonight.

Please note that there's not a brown sandal amongst the bunch:

Sadly, there weren't any brown sandals for me to buy. (But there were some chocolate brown, croc-pattern patent heels. I'll take them!)

There, were, however, other springy sandals to be found. And purchased. (Aren't those little yellow wedges about the cutest thing you've ever seen?!)

To quote a line from one of my all-time favorite movies, when it comes to shoes: "I. Can't. Help. Myself."

What this means is that I will have to continue my search for the brown heeled sandal. The fact that I have brown canvas wedges, brown tweed slingbacks, brown Mary Janes, brown flats and nude peep-toes in my arsenal mean nothing to me. I need a brown heeled sandal. (And whatever I happen to run across between now and finding them, too, is my guess.)

I may need a support group. ... On the other hand, if buying shoes is wrong, I don't want to be right.

Nobody said anything about cookies...

Remember that rule about how I'm not allowed to buy candy until March?

Well, guess what...

Nobody ever said anything about me not buying cookies.

And it's Girl Scout cookie season.

Heh heh heh.

*Disclaimer: Nine of these boxes were ordered on behalf of my friend Monica who doesn't have a Girl Scout in her life. ... That's right. I'm her cookie dealer. Don't judge. ... Of course, that does mean that the other six boxes are mine. And I live alone. (Read: I will eat these. All of them. By myself.) But hey, at least I'm not keeping all FIFTEEN boxes. It could be worse.

My current beverage of choice...

One of the most frustrating things about having only one kidney is that I am required to drink an absolutely ridiculous amount of water a day, so I can keep my system flushed.

I'm talking, 64 oz.

That's a lot of water.

Now, in the summer, it's not hard for me to drink that much water. It's hot - I'm hot - water keeps me hydrated. Easy peasy.

In the winter, on the other hand...

It is not hot. I am not hot. I do not feel the need to be sipping cool water all day long, like I do in the summer (or spring, or fall) months.

Oh, no.

It is freezing. I am freezing. Drinking water sounds like the very opposite of a good time.

Now, hot chocolate, on the other hand...

That is warm. And delicious.

Hot chocolate is a very good time.

So, if I make hot cocoa with water, do you think that counts? ... I sure hope so, because approximately 24 of my required 64 oz (EVERY DAY THIS WEEK) have come in a dark, rich and delicious chocolaty form.

October 29

Would you like to see what I have accomplished in a week? I will show you.

Yup. That's a quart of cream. Down the hatchet.

Go, me!

So, here's a funny story... As I was preparing for the big week o' recovery, I had thought to myself "Since I won't be able to eat like a normal person (by which I mean: no fried chicken and/or ice cream cones for a while, as I will be unable to open my mouth to take a bite of anything), I'll probably lose some weight while I'm in recovery." - And then I planned a menu and I went shopping.

What was on the menu?

Cracked wheat cereal, which I love. ... And one of the things I love best about cracked wheat cereal? It's so freaking good for you that it practically begs to be doused in half-and-half or cream.

And, people, I have eaten a lot of cracked wheat. We're talking three triple batches in less than a week. That's some serious fiber intake. (A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do to offset the effects of the percocet.)

Three triple batches of cracked wheat cereal translates into some serious cream consumption.

(Also, I may or may not (read: definitely do) love to pour cream into my hot chocolate. And I am a HUGE proponent of the Hot Chocolate as a Meal Replacement Plan.)

What I'm saying is, I love cream. (It is, after all, the literal building block of the butter-based food group.) And I did have a whole quart of it at my disposal, so there was no reason whatsoever to exercise any self-control.

So much for those pants that I had thought might be fitting a little bit better by the end of the week... But oh well. If it can't be bacon that's making me soft and squishy, it might as well be cream.

October 3

A few months ago, I went to a breakfast/morning meeting at a Singles Conference. I'm not going to lie, the biggest draw was the all-you-can-eat bacon at the breakfast buffet. Also, I had made a deal with myself that I was going to attend two local singles events a month and part of the event was filling care packages for the military. (Bacon AND sending the soldiers some love?! I was in!)

The speaker at said event was none other than John Rhode. (Super duper nice guy. Here's a link to his website, if you don't recognize the name because you are like me and have never watched an episode of Biggest Loser - much to my nurse's consternation - in your whole entire life.) At the breakfast before his talk, he spent a good 20-30 minutes at my table, chatting it up with us ladies. He shared some diet and workout tips and tricks, told some stories, passed around his iPhone to show us some pics. It was a good time.

Among the info he passed on was the little tidbit that most people are allergic to sugar. I had never heard this before, so I asked for verification of what he meant by "allergic". It turns out, he meant:

al·ler·gy   /ˈælərdʒi/ Show Spelled[al-er-jee] Show IPA


noun, plural al·ler·gies.

1. an abnormal reaction of the body to a previously encountered allergen introduced by inhalation, ingestion, injection, or skin contact, often manifested by itchy eyes, runny nose, wheezing, skin rash, or diarrhea.

Okay, he didn't mention diarrhea as a possible allergic reaction (that was courtesy of Dictionary.com), but I would think it's very possible. He listed headaches, nausea, mouth sores, etc.

I was shocked. Horrified, even, that my friend Sugar could make something like this happen to any one person's body - let alone the majority.

He explained that most people don't even realize the effect that sugar has on their bodies, because they eat it so consistently that they don't associate what they're eating with how they're feeling sluggish and otherwise un-well. He said that if someone stopped eating sugar for 60-90 days and then reintroduced it, they would feel the effects of sugar and be able to see how it impacts them.

I thought that over, and came back with, "I'm pretty sure that even if I knew chocolate caused me pain, I'd still want to have it every day."

He (and the rest of the table full of women) laughed. ... Like I was kidding or something.

.......................................................................................

People, after my last surgery, I was rendered unable to digest sugar. Seriously, unable to process sweet treats. It was about a thousand shades of tragic.

In July, I couldn't eat even two bites of a cupcake without my mouth having a canker sore breakout. At the end of August, the sweet pork in a salad I ate made my throat swell up. Two weeks into September, I was still having to brush my teeth within a half hour of eating an ice cream cone, lest the sugar settle in and make my tongue all weird and my throat sore.

But I persevered. I kept at it. ... Why? Because even if I am allergic to sugar, I still LOVE it.

And guess what? Over three months after surgery, sugar is still making my throat hurt. It's also giving me raging headaches. (Tonight I had a piece of cake with cream cheese icing and the sugar seriously put my head in a vice.) But I am eating it again, and that makes me happy. It is, after all, my birthday month, which means that all bets are off when it comes to eating like a responsible grown up. (And I do have a looooot of frozen cake in my house!)

I may have a sugar allergy, folks, but don't you worry about that stopping me from eating it. ... It might stop a normal, rational person with an ounce of self control, but it won't stop me.

June 9

So, I went to the store this morning to get some breakfast.

Yeah, that's right. My breakfast plans today were McDonald's Coke (next to the Disneyland mix, theirs is the best!) and a pint of Moo-llennium Crunch. (Yeah, I know. I said I was going to eat one pint. One pint today, and one for tomorrow... just in case.)

I figure that I have 12 more days of being able to drink the Coca Cola. ... When I'm down to one kidney, I'll be on a strictly water diet. For, most likely, the rest of my life. (Insert a deep, greiving sigh here.)

And I know what this surgery does to my ability to process dairy. I will be able to eat ice cream again, but it's taken me 3-4 months in the past to be able to work my way back to ice cream.

So, I went to the WalMart in search of ice cream and Coke. Because, while I'm not planning on dying any time soon... I do definitely prescribe to the "eat, drink and be merry" mentality when I'm in the pre-surgery zone.

And while I was there, I saw a Summertime display of Smore's ingredients. I tell you, they had the graham crackers stacked in a diagonal and the marshmallows were puffy and delicious looking. It was impossible to resist.

Obviously.

Do I have a fire pit over which I can roast these marshmallows? Nope, I sure don't. (I don't even have a gas stove top.) So... I'm not sure exactly how I'm going to make this happen. But once I saw the makings for Smore's, I knew that I had to have them. I figure the graham crackers have some sort of nutritional value. Between my Coke and ice cream breakfast and the Smore's I'm planning for lunch, this is shaping up to be a day full of deliciousness. And maybe a little bit of denial in the way of health and nutrition. But delicious, nonetheless.

The GIANT Candy Cane

Did anyone else have a love affair with the giant candy cane when they were a kid? I did. I would literally drool over them. (And then on them, down inside the wrapper that I'd only partially pulled back so I could suck on the end of them in front of my brothers and refuse to share.)

True story. (Both the drooling down into the soggy wrapper and the not sharing.) I was a gross kid, and kind of a mean one sometimes. (I like to think that both of those were normal.)

Anyway... I looooooved the giant candy canes when I was little. I can picture in my head where they were displayed at Ed's (at the end cap, I want to say at the 2nd register, but it might have been the 3rd). I would stand and look at them and wish I had a quarter so I could buy one for my own self. They weren't as good when you had to share them. (Probably because Mom would break them with a hammer and then we'd share. And, as previously discussed, I hated to share.)

You can imagine my thrill when I saw this bad boy at the dollar store this weekend. I'm pretty sure I shrieked with joy, and then I snatched it right up. Of course, due to inflation, the cost has gone from 25 cents to 67 cents. (Argh.) Also, the candy can is no longer bigger than my forearm. (But I'm consoling myself with the thought that it would take me ALL MONTH to gnaw through a piece of candy that big.)

Ahhhh... the giant candy cane = pure joy. (And probably cavities, but whatever.)

Merry Christmas and happy candy cane eating - TO ME! (37 yrs old and still not sharing.)

The Potato Chip Rule of 2011

Sometimes too much of a good things becomes ... well ... a bad thing.

You know, like when I love jalapeno kettle chips so much that I feel compelled to eat the whole bag. In one sitting. Even though my mouth is on fire and my nose is running. ... That's a bad thing.



I knew it was a bad thing. And yet, it kept happening. Over and over (and over ... and, uh ... over) again. (Look, they were on sale to buy a bag and get a bag free. It's not my fault that I was overloaded on bags of kettle chips. Oh, wait. It is kind of my fault that I was overloaded on bags of kettle chips. ... Whatever.)

Anyway, I made myself sick and my tongue was numb for a couple days.

So I had to ban myself from buying chips until 2012.

It's a true story. There's a ban on me buying any kind of potato chips until 2012*, at which point, if I've proven (to myself) that I can control the chips-to-Laurie ratio over here, I will be allowed to buy chips again.

*Gas Station Exclusion to the Potato Chip Rule of 2011: If I am at a gas station (to buy gas), I am allowed to buy one small-ish, snack size bag of chips.

(I had to add the "to buy gas" part, because a day after I made this rule, I was seriously thinking about driving to the gas station just to buy chips. I had to have a firm talk with myself about the reason we have rules and that eating chips isn't good for me, so I can't just have them any time I want them. Basically, I'm like a 7 yr old boy when it comes to food.)

**Birthday Clause to the Potato Chip Rule of 2011: If anyone else were to buy chips for me and present them as a birthday gift, I'd be allowed to accept them (and eat them).

***Which, naturally, opens the Holiday Clause: If anyone were to buy me chips for Veteran's Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas and/or any other holiday between now and New Year's, I'd be able to eat them (and I'd be deeply beholden to any potato chip benefactor who wanted to contribute to my sad, sad cause).

I'm just saying that I'm not allowed to buy chips until 2012, but if someone (anyone or, really, everyone) else wanted to buy them for me, there are clauses built into the rule that would allow such a thing. (Also, my birthday is a week from today. Hint, hint.)

I need some new walking shoes

That's right. I broke my walking shoes. (And yeah, my walking shoes are black flip-flops. Don't judge.)

I was out on my evening walk and I tripped over a crack in the sidewalk (not to worry - it wasn't the kind of trip where you actually fall, just the kind where you catch your foot and sort of stumble). When I recovered, I realized I'd lost my shoe in the process. I back traced a little for the shoe and was incredibly bummed to see that my black flipper had finally bit the dust. I was incredibly bummed for two reasons: the shoes that have seen me through literally hundreds of miles of walking in the last year and a half, the shoes that have molded to the shape of my feet and are the most comfortable flip-flops I've ever owned, are gone - and I was about half a mile from home and I was gonna have to walk back a la "Diddle, diddle dumpling, my son John" (with one shoe off and one shoe on).

Argh. I need to buy some new walking shoes. (And yeah, by "walking shoes", I mean $6 flips-flops from WalMart. Listen, they're super great and verrrrrry affordable.)

In the meanwhile, I guess I could use these.



But they feel so constricting. (Probably because all ten of my toes are accustomed to being out in the air.)

So, in the meanwhile, I think I'll wear these.



They don't pack the supportive punch that the rubber flippers did, but as you can see, they've definitely been broken in.

Don't you all love getting these little glimpses into my life? Please don't judge me for my love of well worn flip-flops, or ... uh ... my lack of supportive athletic footwear. (But then, I don't know that you could call taking 40 minutes to walk around the block an athletic event, so I think a new pair of black flippers will be sufficient for my needs.)

Things that make me laugh out loud

Yes, out loud. (Thank heavens I have the ability to laugh this time around. I don't know if it's because my incision is 3 inches shorter than it was last time, or if it's because Heavenly Father knew how incredibly difficult it was for me not to be able to laugh for three weeks in the summer of 2010... but this time, I can laugh. Not for an incredibly long time, mind you, and not at full force, but I can laugh. Which is a blessing. A big one.)

But I digress. As usual. ... I was going to tell you what's been making me laugh lout loud.

Netflix. Netflix has been making me laugh out loud.

I will explain.

First, let me just say that I have the best friends ever. My friend Genevra gifted me a 3 month Netflix subscription, because she knows me and knows that watching movies is pretty much my favorite thing ever (and a very easy thing to do while convalescing).

For those of you who haven't done the Netflix thing, I'll take a moment and explain that one of the first things the website has you do is go through and rate several movies. It does this so it can get a good feel of what type of movie you like to watch, so it can give educated suggestions as to what you might want to put in your queue.

This morning, I rated about 300 movies. (No, I'm not kidding. It's something I can do from the luxury of my recliner, and Mom's busy writing her memoirs in her 3-ring notebook over on the couch. We co-exist quite nicely, no?)

Rating the movies, alone, is a crack up and a half. Why? Because it has you rank them from 1 (worst movie ever) to a 5 (I freaking LOVE this movie and would watch it every day of my life) - there is also an "I haven't seen this movie, nor would I like to" option. After ranking the movie between 1-5, a little blip comes up that shows you the category of movie, and asks you if you watch this type of movie "never", "sometimes" or "often". (The "never" option slays me. Hi, I just told you I watched this movie. Clearly, I wouldn't say I never watch movies like this. Weirdos.) What's been killing me is the way they code, or categorize, a movie.

Some of them make sense:

E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial was coded as heartwarming. (Okay, that makes sense.)

Runaway Bride was listed as a wedding movie. (Duh. But again, makes sense.)

Most of them do not make sense:

Lara Croft: Tomb Raider was coded as a father/daughter movie. (Really? Because I'd have gone more with "action adventure". PS - I hated this movie. One of the worst dates of my life. Remind me to NEVER tell you about it.)

Finding Nemo was coded as an undersea adventure. (Undersea adventure, ala Jacques Cousteau? Uh... no. Whatever happened to "animated", or "animal tale", which is what Ice Age was given, btw? So random.)

Secret Window was coded as a movie about marriage. (What the heck?! Has anyone else seen this show? I have, and I like it, because I enjoy Johnny Deep when he's creepy as all get-out. But let me just say, a movie about marriage, this is not. Stephen King isn't known for his relationship dramas, y'know.)

Salt was coded as a movie from the 2010's. (Hi. 2010 was only one year, there's no need to pluralize that. Also, I think "spy" or "espionage" would have been a better category than "movie from the 2010's", but whatever.)

You can see why I rated over 300 movies. The descriptions of the movies alone was some good entertainment. But my favorite part is yet to come.

The suggestions of what to put in my queue. Priceless, I tell you. Priceless.

I will show you:

What Lies Beneath, because I enjoyed: Sweet Home Alabama, My Best Friend's Wedding and Runaway Bride. (Clearly, What Lies Beneath is another creepy thriller that was somehow mistakenly categorized as a movie about weddings - or marriage - ala Secret Window.)

LOTR: The Fellowship of the Ring because I enjoyed: X2 - X-Men United, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade and Star Trek. (What in the world do these four movies have in common? I mean, WHAT?! PS - I would sooner die than watch LOTR. The creatures. Ewh. Wolverine, not creepy. Elves and fairies, super creepy.)

Conspiracy Theory, because I enjoyed: Runaway Bride, The Patriot and Hook. (Uhh... Other than casting, what do these movies have in common with each other? I don't watch movies just because Mel Gibson and/or Julia Roberts is in them. Weird.)

So, Netflix. It is a never ending source of enjoyment for me. Even if all I ever do is rate movies so I can see how they were categorized, it's a good time.

How do you know it's November?

Because I have an eternally open box of these on my kitchen counter.



Breakfast, lunch, dinner, midnight snack... Any time's a good time for a cherry cordial, people!

I am usually a stickler for pricier chocolate (this we know: Laurie is not a cheap date), but there's just something about these stupid Queen Anne chocolate cherries that brings me joy. Maybe it's the memories of fighting my siblings (and/or parents) for the last one. (Maybe = absolutely in this context, btw.)

Happy Month Before Christmas to me! :-)

She LIKES red!

Okay, okay. Who's kidding who? She loves it, actually.

Behold, my birthday present to myself:



It's red, it's shiny, it's sparkly, it's a little ostentatious, and it has a diamond center. This sucker had my name written all over it. You know I had to have it.

Happy Birthday to me! :-)