Halloween, Martha style.

Here is the fruits of my labor: a spiderweb cheesecake, straight from the pages of the October issue of Martha Stewart Living:


















Not a bad effort, if I do say so myself. It doesn't look exactly like the picture, but it's close enough.

I snuck a lick of the cheesecake filling tonight before I stuck it in the freezer, and OH MY GOD. The most delicious cheesecake ever. Here's the recipe if you want to try it.

This was my first cheesecake ever, and I'm pretty happy with it. And because it's no-bake, I'll definitely make it again. I'm excited to see what my co-workers think of it.

And I'll post costume pictures after tomorrow...I'm not telling what we're dressing up as...you'll just have to wait and see. Muuhahahahahahhaha!

Either a good show of restraint, or a display of insanity.

I'm making a no-bake cheesecake with a chocolate cookie crust for our Halloween potluck on Friday, so I bought a package of Oreo cookies and had to scrape out all of the cream filling so I was only left with the chocolate cookies.

And I threw away the entire pile of delicious cream filling without taking a single bite of it.

Am I being too good, or am I just losing it? You decide.

I have to get something off my chest.

I'm not normally a very political person, but there's something about one of the propositions on the ballot this election year that's really got me riled up.

The fact that there is a proposition that will determine whether a same-sex couple can marry or not is appalling. Unnecessary. Ridiculous. Insulting. Horrible. Hurtful. And lots of other adjectives that I won't use here. I was driving home from work today and saw someone with a Yes on 8 bumper sticker on their car. I was driving through a residential neighborhood and saw one too many Yes on 8 signs in people's front yards. I was speechless and angry at the same time. The commercials in favor of this proposition are even more infuriating - that by voting yes, you're protecting the sanctity of marriage.

I'm sorry, but when did it become the state of California's business to decide who people can marry? I'm just flabbergasted that in this day in age, we even have such an initiative on the ballot.

This is the first time in a long time I can remember being this infuriated about something political. And all that infuriation is going to propel me right to the polls on the 4th.

Not that I'm telling you what to do (because I hate to be bossy), but please don't forget to vote on the 4th! We need as many voices as we can this time around.

Funny cat photo of the day.

Tee hee!

Weight ain't nothin' but a number.

Since I hurt my back a couple of weeks ago, I've been watching a LOT of television to keep me busy. More than anyone should really watch in a day, but when you've got nothing else to do (I did read a few magazines), the television becomes your window to the world until you can get back out in it. And last night, that window had some pretty disturbing images.

One of the channels we get with our satellite is BBC America. I rarely watch it (except for when Graham Norton is on - he's hilarious), but the title of the show that was on caught my eye as I was searching for something to watch. The title was "Super Skinny Me", and it was a documentary about two English journalists who try to see if they can get to a size zero in 5 weeks. They were both average sized when they started - one was 129 pounds, one was 144 pounds. The goal of the film was to show how women often get carried away with losing weight and the scary things they resort to just to fit into a smaller numbered size.

During the first week, the one who started out weighing 129 pounds ate nothing but watercress soup for a week for every meal, and apparently, all it was made of was olive oil, onions and watercress. She had a heaping bowl of it 3 times a day. And nothing else. Yuck. The 144 pound one ate nothing but lemonade with maple syrup and cayenne pepper and exercised for an hour every day. Really scary stuff.

The second week, the 129 pounder drank 2 protein shakes a day and ate a high protein meal for dinner. And exercised for 2 hours every day. She consumed about 800 calories total and burned about 1200.

The 144 pounder went to a detox center and got colonics more times than she should have. She also started to become obsessed with food, and started experimenting with laxatives. When she confessed that she had started purging as well, the doctor monitoring her through this whole thing told her that she was on her way to becoming a bulimic if she wasn't careful.

The 129 pounder lost 14 pounds total and could fit into a size 00 jeans, the same size that would fit a 6 year old girl. Her rib cage started to show. Her collar bone was sticking out. It was appalling.

Thankfully, both of these women returned to normal once the experiment was over. The scary part of it for me was realizing that 2 years ago, while I was losing all of my weight, I too became obsessed with the number on the scale and the number on the tag of my jeans. I was smart enough not to let it get out of hand or do anything unhealthy or dangerous, but I knew exactly what kind of mentality these women had. It's a really frightening feeling when you let the clothes or the scale control what you eat or how you feel about yourself. Why is it that so many women tie their self-worth into their clothing size? I'm guilty of that, too. And perplexed at the same time.

I've been feeling really down over these last couple of weeks, what with not being able to exercise and being very restricted in my daily activities. I started feeling like I was gaining weight (which I wasn't), and started to worry. But after I watched that documentary last night, I felt like my eating patterns have really changed for the better over the past couple of years, and even though my scale might fluctuate, I'm pretty happy with where I'm at weight-wise. Of course, I'd like to drop a couple (and I do mean 2) pounds, but that's it. And I'm sure once I start up my regular exercise again (soon!), that it will come off. So I finally felt like it was OK not to worry about the scale anymore.

So watching TV for a week paid off a little bit.

OK, a lot.

I love my co-workers.

And let me tell you why.

Back when we first moved in to our new building in June, the local chamber of commerce sent us a bunch of welcome bags with coupons for local businesses, cookies, soda can holders, etc. They probably sent us upwards of 200 of these plastic bags, all of which we intended to give to our employees. After several e-mails telling employees to please come pick one up, and after having them sit in our department in a gargantuan cardboard box for well over a month, we decided to get rid of them. So a couple of my co-workers went through the bags and took out the stuff worth keeping and threw out the rest.

One of the things in the bags were perfume/cologne samples from the perfume store in the outlet mall not far from our building. Unfortunately, the perfume samples were Paris Hilton's fragrance called "It's Just Me" with the obnoxious slogan of "When someone asks what you're wearing, simply tell them 'It's just me.'" Gag me. There must have been 100 of those cards with perfume samples, with little pictures of Paris Hilton on the front.

I got to work the next morning, and someone had set about 20 of those cards on my desk. I got a nice giggle out of them, and I thought it was a fun little way to start the day.

And then the Paris' started multiplying.

One of my co-workers cut out her head from one of the cards and taped it on the name plate of the person sitting next to her. It took her awhile to notice it, but we all died laughing in the meantime.

Then, our department printer decided to crap out, so one of our IT guys came down to fix it. To test it out, he printed, "I'm a pirate....ARGGGG!" My co-worker (whom I'll call G) took that piece of paper, taped a little cut-out of Paris Hilton to it with a speech bubble saying "That's hot!" and hung it up on the wall behind the printer.

That was over a month ago, and it's still hanging there.

Over the course of the last month, G and another co-worker I'll call M have been passing the little Paris head back and forth between their desks, hiding it in each other's cubicles in different places to see if the other person would find it and how long it would take. Since my cubicle is right next to theirs, I'd get in on the fun if one of them couldn't find it and see if I could help out. It's been a source of endless entertainment and much-needed laugh breaks.

Two weeks ago, I was at lunch reading a magazine and came across the worst perfume ad I've ever seen. Apparently, Paris has a new perfume called Fairy Dust. In this ad, she is dressed like a fairy, wings and all, "flying" in the clouds with a little slogan above her head that says "Do you believe in fairy tales?" Again, GAG.

I couldn't resist ripping it out and taking it back to my department. G was at lunch, so I hung it on her monitor with a post-it attached that said "To my number one fan, XOXO, Paris". Much laughter commenced when she returned from lunch, as you can imagine.

I went to a meeting later that afternoon and came back to my desk to find the hideous Paris fairy taped to my white board, and the slogan taped to my monitor. Again, hysterical laughter and more fun with G.

When I was out last week due to my back, I came back to my desk and found lots of little Paris' hiding all over the place. One was taped to a little stuffed cat I have on my desk. One was taped to my monitor. One was taped inside a little model of a cubicle I have on my desk. It was pretty freakin' hilarious.

And this one made me laugh the most:
















Yes, that is a picture of my husband at our wedding. With a little Paris in the corner.

G was out on Friday, so I went to town on her desk and hid all of the Paris' that were on my desk around her cubicle. And I'm going to the store tomorrow to see if I can't find a huge poster of Paris Hilton to hang behind her cubicle.

I'm so glad I work with people who are so much fun - it makes coming to work a joy.

I'm just wondering what repercussions I'll face after the poster on Monday. Whatever they are, it will be SO worth it!

I jinxed myself.

My pain free existence was short-lived.

I woke up this morning feeling a whole lot better than yesterday and was so excited that I was back to being me again. I was looking forward to an entire day of being without pain, until I leaned over just a little bit to the right while I was getting ready this morning. And it happened again.

The pain came back and lasted all day, through 2 Aleve and the heating pad. It was a very, very miserable day at work. Thanks to a wonderful co-worker who went and found me a back support pad for my chair, I made it through the day and was feeling better mentally by the time I came home. As soon as I got home, I laid down and iced my back. And right now, I'm feeling OK again. But I'll be taking another muscle relaxer before I go to bed tonight. Bummer.

I'm really hoping I'm feeling better by Thursday. I'm supposed to go to Merced for work and my mother-in-law's retirement party is that night, and I don't want to disappoint her.

What I wouldn't give to feel normal again. The good thing about all this is that when I'm all healed, I am DEFINITELY making it a priority to work my abs and back muscles to get them strong and healthy so that this does not happen again. I believe everything happens for a reason, and I'm thinking that's the reason behind all of this.

At least that's what I'm telling myself.

Back to normal (for the most part).

I am so glad last week is over.

After posting on Monday about my back issues, I struggled all day at work on Tuesday (walking really slow, not able to get out of my chair without using my arm rests, etc.), came home and took it easy in the hopes that it would resolve itself. Unfortunately, I couldn't relax because I couldn't get comfortable. Sitting was painful, laying down was painful, and walking was almost impossible. It was pretty miserable. But I took some Advil, laid down with the heating pad and went to bed thinking I would wake up the next morning and it would have improved slightly.

Unfortunately, I was wrong. I woke up the next morning and could barely get out of bed. I wasn't strong enough to lift myself up from laying down, and when I tried to use the bathroom, the pain of trying to sit down was excruciating. So of course, I stayed home seeing as I could barely sit.

I figured one day would be plenty of rest for my back to get a little better, so I resolved to go back to work the next day.

Wrong again.

I woke up Thursday morning and it was the same if not worse. I was almost completely incapacitated and could hardly move. It was quite possibly the worst back pain I've ever had. I didn't know if I'd pinched a nerve, pulled a muscle or slipped a disc. All I knew was that every time I moved, my back hurt so bad it was unbearable. And nothing was working to help ease the pain. I couldn't even turn over in bed at night because my back muscles weren't strong enough for me to flip over. I had to put my hands underneath my hips and push myself over to one side. I started to panic at that point.

So I called the advice nurse on Thursday night, explained what was happening and she advised me to go to the doctor the next day. In the meantime, she told me to keep doing what I was doing with the heat and cold compresses and taking Advil every 4 hours. So I'd be missing another day of work on Friday. Super.

I called my doctor first thing on Friday morning and made an appointment for the afternoon. Because I couldn't drive and my husband was working, my mom was gracious enough to come pick me up and take me to my appointment. The most humbling part of the day? When my husband had to help me get dressed because I was too weak to put on my pants. I've never been more vulnerable in my whole life.

I hobbled in to the office that afternoon, where I was examined by the physician assistant on duty and was diagnosed with severe muscle strain in my back. The good news was that it wasn't a slipped disc or a pinched nerve, which made me VERY happy as you can imagine. She prescribed Vicodin (woooo!) and a muscle relaxer (wooooooooo!), told me to continue with the heat and ice packs, and to take 2 Aleve every 12 hours for the pain/inflammation.

My mom and I drove to the pharmacy afterwards (they send your prescriptions electronically directly to the pharmacy - how cool is that?) and I picked up my pain pills. I'm not normally a person who takes a lot of pills, so I was wary about what I was given. But I was in so much pain and so uncomfortable that I was willing to try anything.

Later that night, my mom picked me up and took me back to their house so I wouldn't have to spend the evening alone, since my husband was still at work and I was in no shape to be home alone all night. She fixed a delicious dinner and I laid on the couch all night being uncomfortable - the Aleve wasn't working as well as I'd hoped, so I planned on taking one of my muscle relaxers that night before I went to sleep.

I got home, took half of one of the pills (5 milligrams) and got into bed, looking forward to a (hopefully) restful nights' sleep. And as soon as the pill kicked in, I was OUT. Dead to the world. I could feel a little of the effects of it before I fell asleep, and I've never felt so weird before. The TV started to sound strange, I felt like I couldn't speak - very odd stuff. Thankfully, once I nodded off, I had no weird dreams and slept OK (not great).

Saturday was about the same, although I took more Aleve and tried to walk around a little, since sitting made my back stiff and feel worse. I spent the day at my grandparent's house while my mom and grandmother took care of me, my grandfather and my great-grandmother. It was a regular hospital, minus the doctors and bad smells. My grandmother fed me with homemade pizza, homemade lentil soup, homemade goulash and dumplings and homemade apple pastry. DELISH. My back may not have felt good, but my soul was sure soothed. It was a perfectly comforting day spent with my family, and it was wonderful (even though I was in pain). I haven't spent a day like that with my grandparents in a long time - it took me back to when I was little and would spend every day there during the summer. Except the fall weather made it so cozy and I couldn't help but be happy.

Thankfully, I woke up yesterday morning in significantly less pain and was able to get myself out of bed and dressed on my own. Yippee! I did laundry, dishes and a little grocery shopping. I even met my husband on his lunch break and enjoyed his company as we ate outside (and yesterday was the perfect day for it).

Today was a little better than yesterday pain wise, so I think I'm out of the woods. I went back to work and I'm feeling more like me today, but still get twinges in my back if I move the wrong way. Exercise is out of the question until I'm completely pain-free, which I'm hoping will be the end of the week. If not, I'll wait a few more days. As long as it takes me to heal is as long as I'll be waiting.

The moral of this story is two things:

1) I have a lot more compassion for people who need the assistance of others. I was completely at the mercy of everyone around me, and thankfully I have the best family a person could ever ask for. Even though I was only down for a few days, I was totally helpless and dependent on everyone else to help me, which is a terrible feeling to have. I never realized how much I love my independence until last week. And I will not take it (or my good health) for granted again.

2) Running in place with the Wii is BAD. VERY BAD. At least for me. I doubt I'll be doing it again.

I'm just so glad to be feeling better and more mobile. And so thankful that I have such a wonderful support system in my family.

Now, where's that heating pad...?

The pinched nerve is back.

For the past few years, I've had an angry nerve in my back that flares up now and again. If I bend over just right or move just the right way, it hurts for a couple of days and life is not pleasant. I did a free run on the Wii yesterday (running in place), and I noticed my back bothering me not long after I finished, so I don't think I'll be doing that again for awhile. Sitting doesn't seem to bother me so much, but walking around is uncomfortable, and laying down is OK if I'm in the right position. Unfortunately, nothing really helps except time and laying off of it, so that means no running tonight. I'm going to try and do some yoga later on in hopes that it will stretch things out a little.

I'm starting to get nervous about taking too much time off from running. The race is only 52 days from today, so every chance I get to run and improve my time is helpful. But resting my body is more important right now, so I'll be taking care of myself tonight.

Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day!

Eight years already?

Eight years ago yesterday, Rob and I officially became Mr. and Mrs. The weather was very similar to today's: it was chilly in the morning, really warm in the afternoon and then chilly again that night. I remember most every detail about that day and the night before as if it happened yesterday. I remember sleeping in my bed at home for the last time with my cat Smokey sleeping next to me, knowing that this would be the last time she would curl up with me at night. I remember groggily waking up at 6:30 the next morning, forcing myself to eat something (I can't eat when I'm nervous). My mom gave me a card before I left the house to get my hair done, and that's when the first round of tears started. I managed to compose myself long enough to go get my hair done in Folsom, drive back to Elk Grove to get my make up done (where I had my eyebrows plucked for the first time), and drive back to my mom's house. 3 hours after all of that, I walked down the aisle with my dad. And when I saw Rob standing at the end of it with tears pouring down his face, I lost all composure and turned into a blubbering mess. The pictures are actually kind of funny - it really looks like I'm extremely sad and not happy AT ALL.

I remember my nose running uncontrollably at the altar (thank goodness for the one tissue I had crumpled in my hand). I remember barely speaking my vows to Rob because I was so nervous in front of 210 people. And I remember the moment when it became official: how excited we both were that our life together was just beginning.

It was a pretty fantastic day, one that we'll never forget. I'm so grateful for these last eight years, for the good times and the bad and everything in between.

Let's hope we've got 100 more left!