There are some things in life I will never understand. 

Fingerless gloves, for example. 

Or skydiving.  I mean, who was the first person who looked out the window of an airplane and thought "gee, this 30,000 ft. thing is fun and all but you know what would be a REAL blast?  Strapping an oversized bedsheet to my back and then launching myself out that tiny door over there!  Super Awesome!"?

But one of the top things I don't quite get is the idea of New Year's Resolutions. 

Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for resolutions.  Continually working to improve yourself and making changes to make things even better (a la Kaizen)?   Where do I sign up!!!    Finding new ways to be overproductive and grow as a human being?  Heck yes!!!  Trying to be even more perfectionistic?  *squeals in pure glee*   

What I DON'T understand, however, is the idea of waiting until once a year to do this.   Have a burning desire to lose weight/ get healthy/ take up a hobby/ arrange your sock drawer alphabetically?  Why not just do it?   If you know you can be better and want to make a change, why wait until once a year?   Or did I miss the memo entitled "Attn: For best resolution follow-through, you should start on January 1?"  (Which I secretly suspect also came out around the time they sent the memo announcing that all diets need to begin on Mondays)

Still, I admit that there is a lot I can improve on, one of which being this little 'ol blog.   It's one of the things that always seems to slip through the cracks, in favor of other things that seem less selfish (Blog = Hi world! Let me spend an hour talking all about myself!  Me! Me!) or more productive.   Like...you know...laundry-and-dishes-and-making-kanzashi-and-color-coding-my-sprinkles-and-stuff.  

So what I'm saying here is...

Scootch over people, and make room for one more on the 'ol bandwagon.  

I'd like to try and post here more regularly, let's be gentle and say once a week.  The posts may not be perfect, but it's probably a good exercise in taking some time for ME and writing down some of the crazy thoughts that swirl around my head on a daily basis.    Oh, and this is also where YOU lovely people come in.   If you see me start to not post, can you please poke me?    Leave a comment.  Send a message.  Or (for those who live nearby) stop on over and whap me upside the head and tell me to SNAP OUT OF IT AND GET YOUR BLOGGING ON ALREADY, WOMAN!   

So whatever your New Year's resolution is this year, let's do this thing together.  
I'll poke you if you poke me.  

(You know what I mean.  Mind out of the gutter, people...)  

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A few months ago Reuben and I attended the wedding of our friend Christian to his fiance, Gabriela.

It was a small, intimate wedding, and even though I hadn't met Gabriela much before it was clear that she brought a lot of life and spice into Christian's life.    I loved watching them together during the reception, and was glad to have been one of the few invited to celebrate with the happy couple.

Fast forward a few months later at our friend Tracy's house, where Gabriela and I finally had a chance to talk and get to know each other better.  

Me:  Blah blah, I like doing crafty things like cake decorating and knitting and sewing and things that make BIG messes with very little benefit to my everyday life!  Woo!
Her:  Hey, me too!
Me:  We should totally take a class together on these topics!
Her:  *Whips out her ipad*  Let's schedule something at this very moment!
Me:  <Thinks internally> Ohmygosh someone who actually GETS STUFF DONE and is PROACTIVE, I love this!   *Tries to restrain self from hugging Gabriela in glee, as that seems to be an I-just-met-you faux pas*

Which is how Reuben and I ended up at the newlywed's house the other weekend, for a mutual exchange of skills.   She  (being from Venezuela) makes authentic arepas like nobody's business.   I know how to make a quick-and-easy marshmallow fondant.  Both involve ingredients and big messes, which was perfect.  Let the crafty skill swapping commence!

I knew immediately that I adored this girl when I walked in and saw this on the counter:

And then found out she made dinner for all of us too... including some plain chicken just for me so I'd have something to eat.






















And faster than you can say Chocolate-cake-with-sprinkles, I totally knew we'd get along.  Because not only is she gorgeous on the OUTSIDE, she's also a beautiful person on the inside, and I felt like I was spending the evening with Martha Stewart's younger, hipper, and much friendlier sister who happened to have the same Type-A perfectionist tendencies as me. 

See?  Love this girl!

To make things even better, she whipped out some aprons for us to wear while getting our bake-a-thon on, which was good because the recipe I brought over for fondant starts with something akin to "Take a gallon of crisco and oil everything down that this stuff could possibly touch.   Hands, counter, bowl, small pets, your spouse...."    Because nothing says "Stuff is about to get REAL in this kitchen" like an apron.  It's like the housewife version of a hard hat.  

Me, rocking the kid's apron.  I mean, hello... it's PINK!

As soon as they saw the aprons come out the boys retreated to the back porch to watch Youtube videos, smoke cigars, freeze their extremities off and talk about such manly topics as engines and financial investing and... I don't know... beer.  Whatever guys talk about when being manly.  Probably to scratch stuff, too.   And meanwhile Gaby and I proceeded to talk and bake and have lots of crafty fun together while discovering how much we had in common.  

The end result?  A delicious meal of arepas (and the knowledge of how to make them from scratch without burning down the house...in theory....), a bowl of yummy marshmallow fondant for crafting and cupcake decorating, and an amazing friend who I can't wait to spend more time with.   It's funny how some people you meet and end up connecting with immediately - she's definitely one of those types.  Just one more example of how some people come into your life at the very time you need them the most, and leave an instant impression.

This could be the start of a very beautiful.... and messy.... friendship.  
(Watch out boys, the aprons are coming out.)  

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(My friend Beth and I, getting our mead on)

Every couple seems to have their own traditions.
Some folks have date night, where they leave the kids with a babysitter and hit the town for dinner.

Some folks go to the same place on their anniversary that they met/ he proposed/ her dad got out the shotgun.

Some people have weekly TV shows that they watch together, with popcorn and blankets and the 2.5-kids.

R and I?  We hit the town one weekend each year - medieval style.

That's right, we're talking RENAISSANCE FAIR people.  Turkey-legs-and-mead-and-jousting-and-Hey-Wench-Want-To-See-My-Sword? kind of fun, complete with costumes and performers and dust, where your outward adult is thinking "I don't think plastic fairy wings are historically accurate" while your inner nerd is yelling "OMG IT'S A UNICORN!"   Minnesota has one of the largest ones,  with acres of permanent houses/stores/pavillions, and it's become an annual tradition for Reuben and I to take a weekend and head out for some good old fashioned fun.

Where, you ask, is the romance?

Simple!  We tend to choose the "Wine and Chocolate and Romance"-themed weekend, because...HELLO CHOCOLATE!,.. and there's something pretty darn adorable about a couple letting their inner nerds out to play together.  (It's also a chance for me to break out the tribal bellydance costume, which never exactly hurts the 'ol relationship IfYouKnowWhatIMean.)

*cough*  moving on....

It was a lovely (albeit chilly) day, made all the better by the fact that we got to meet up with our friend Beth (one of the most awesome people you'll ever meet!), see Reuben's brother Mike and his girlfriend Jacqueline, and spend some time with our friend Christian and his lovely new wife Gabriela.   Because if there's one thing that's better than a day at the fair, it's a day at the fair with a posse.  (Horde?  Mob?  Is there a good medieval word for this?)

Reuben was a happy camper, since we walked through the gates and made a pretty instant beeline for ye old Mead tent.  This was fine with me, since even though my stomach can't handle mead right now it makes me happy to see HIM so happy (standing there with a cup of mead in each hand).  Also, I figure that after putting up with me 364 other days of the year, the guy has totally earned a drink or two.  Or five.  Or twelve.   As for me, I wasted no time in getting MY treat of choice... the turkey legs.  

At least, I think it was a turkey leg.  It could have been an ostrich.  Because I grew up in Wisconsin, and have never actually seen a turkey with legs as huge as these, and I've seen my share.  (You know, because they're everywhere there.  And we hunt a lot.   No,,. a LOT.)   Regardless, it is one of the few things that I can actually have right now stomach-wise that I don't have to make myself, which means I was absolutely giddy and spent a rather embarrassing amount of time bouncing around with glee and waving a leg of meat in Reuben's face exclaiming "This is soooo good!" and "look at me, all eating in public and stuff!".   

Hey, when you haven't been able to go out to eat in two years or so, you take your thrills where you can get 'em.  

With mead/turkey legs/each other in our hands we wandered the fair for a few hours and had a rather glorious time of being out and about in a place where our inner nerds could roam free.  We saw jousting, shopped and browsed through stores, chatted with our group of awesome people, and generally enjoyed all the fun of medieval life (no utensils!  Mead aplenty!  Wenches!  Pointy things!) without the pesky hassle of plagues and marauding hordes.   It was a great time, and I strongly recommend that anyone in the area during August through October try it out at least once.

So grab your sweetie, or your friends, or a really confused stranger and join us in Shakopee at the fair.
Just look for the redheaded bellydancer and the really happy guy she's with.   
...We're probably by the mead.

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Once upon a time, not so long ago, I worked at a large corporate headquarters where they had a very popular saying:  "Feedback is a gift."

Of course some people took this literally, handing out gifts left and right like it was Christmas, your Birthday, and Valentine's Day all rolled into one.   Around annual review time, especially, it wasn't uncommon to see people walking around in a daze, the telltale glossy-eyed look on their face that comes when you've just had feedback piled on top of feedback, only able to mutely nod when we'd take one look at them and ask simply "Gifts?"

Today, I'm asking y'all to be givers.

It occurred to me last night as a thousand different post possibilities were whizzing through my head like small caffeine-and-crack-fueled ferrets and making it impossible to pare through all the things I wanted to share that the best way to figure out what to write about on here would be to... you know.... ASK YOU WHAT YOU WANT TO READ.

Novel thought, right?   I'm a genius.

So I'm putting this out there today and asking everyone and their mom (hi, Mom!) to comment and let me know what you'd like to see here.   (See that link at the bottom of the post that says "Add a Comment"?  Go ahead, click it!  It's fun!  Whee!)  Recipes?  Frugal tips?  DIY projects?  Stories and anecdotes about my life and all its craziness?   In short:  What would make this useful, relevant, and keep you coming back for more?   

Opinions, thoughts, feedback... it's all good!   Post once, twice, fifteen times... whatever floats your boat.  Just be sure to post, so I'm not hanging here like that guy waiting for the other guy to high-five him.    That's just awkward.  

Feedback is a gift. 
And one you don't have to worry about wrapping. 
Score.

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I'll be the first to admit it... some days I totally fail at being a wife. 

The other night I was out and about in one of the northern suburbs, helping a gal put together a bazillion wedding escort cards (yes, a bazillion.  As in a few dozen more than a "whole bunch" and slightly less than "a bajillion") when I got a call from Reuben.

Him:  I noticed the floor in the bathroom is damp.  Did the toilet leak?
Me:  Nope, I was scrubbing the floor and accidentally overturned the bucket.  It may still be wet.
Him:  The bath mat is hanging up, did you wash it?
Me:  No.  I hung it to dry when it got wet from the water
Him:  It looks dirty, shouldn't it be washed first?
Me:  Um, sure.  (<-- I am very eloquent at times.)
Him:  Well, there are spots on it and stuff from the water.  It should have been put in the wash.
Me:  Of course dear, whatever you say.  I'll wash it tonight when I get home. 

Or at least, that's probably what I should have said.  But I'm a redhead, and it was 10 pm, and I had been running on two hours of sleep.  So what really came out was something more like:

Me:  ARE YOU FIVE?  THEN WASH IT ALREADY!   SHEESH!  I AM NOT THE ONLY ONE IN THIS HOUSEHOLD WHO CAN WASH THINGS!  DON'T EXPECT ME TO DO EVERYTHING AROUND HERE!

We hung up pretty quickly after that, and after I spent about thirty seconds fuming not-so-silently I had to admit to myself that I overreacted and (although I DO stand by the fact that washing is an equal-opportunity chore) he probably didn't deserve to get snipped at. 

See?  I can be rational.  Occasionally. 
(You're agreeing with me, right?  Smile and nod....)

Don't worry... it all ended well.  I got home, we both apologized, yaddah yaddah.  (He explained he wasn't asking me to do it, he just wanted to know if it was done already so he wouldn't double-wash it.  Whoops!).  Hugs and Disney feelings all around.   But it was a good reminder to me that as much as I like to think I'm a half-decent helpmate, I still have a loooong way to go.    (Also, it shows that any conversations after 10pm should probably be limited to "my, it's dark outside," or "wow, dear, you are looking fabulous without makeup tonight."     If all else fails, just stand in the corner and throw me chocolate until I'm (1) fat and happy, or (2) asleep.)

As for the picture... these DIY fruit and yogurt parfaits are a fabulous way to save some money, save time in the morning, and also have a healthy breakfast that you can take with you.    Additionally, if you're a consummate jar-hoarder like myself, it's a nice way to put them to good use. (The one in the picture is a glass gravy jar, but anything will work).    I make one for Reuben each morning, since it's one of the few things he'll eat for breakfast besides "coffee" and "more coffee".  

To assemble, simply layer greek yogurt, some granola, and various fruit combinations on top of one another and then store in the fridge.   Easy, right?   They're perfect for breakfast because they are portable, can be made the night before (or even a few days ahead of time), and only cost pennies - especially if you make your own yogurt and/or granola (I'll post how to do that soon).    If you're worried about the granola getting soggy, simply fill with layers of yogurt/fruit ahead of time and leave some room on top, then add the granola in the morning before you head out the door.   

They also score major brownie points with loved ones which are always nice to have.
(Pardon me while I go make about five million more of these)  

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I've always wondered what kind of a person decides to become a weather reporter.

Do they go to journalism school and then think "Gee, I love being on TV but that whole news thing is so BORING.   You know what I could talk about for hours, though?  Clouds.  Clouds and wind.   Yep, totally love that cloud/wind stuff."

Then they spend the next twenty years or so trying valiantly to make the weather sound new, fresh, and exciting. 

Which is why snowstorms, like the one we got slapped with last night, seems to make them positively giddy.   

"SNOWMAGEDDON!" they chortle, rubbing their hands together in glee.  "SNOWPOCALYPSE!"  "SNOWAPALOOZA!"   

Suddenly filled with power at all eyes on them, they bounce around on camera and point with big, sweeping motions at the blobs moving around on the green screen behind them, their bodies trembling with excitement like over-caffeinated chihuahuas in an effort to get us to acknowledge the magnitude of the event.   Snowstorms in Minnesota are their times to shine, and this winter up north has been a very shiny one for them indeed.

Last night and yesterday it snowed...again... dumping some 6-12 inches down on the metro area and wrecking yet more havoc with the transportation systems and people's plans.   Thick and heavy, it mounded itself on top of the already-precariously-high snowbanks until even I (who hates snow but subscribes to the "you live in MN, suck it up" mentality) found myself emailing job openings in Florida to Reuben, explaining why the position of Cart Attendant II at a grocery store down south is vastly superior to a management position up here.  

Reason #1:  No Snow. 
I win.

I also found myself leafing through my recipe binder to distract myself from the depressing sight of yet more white stuff falling outside.   While my instinct was to make something that involved five different kinds of chocolate, I ended up picking out a non-chocolate one since Valentine's Day was last week and I figured people could use a break after sampling "chocolate-covered - <insert item>" and "red-velvet - <insert food>".   Besides, when the world outside is cold and wet and snowy, there's nothing like the warm scent of cinnamon and sugar to make everything seem a little less crazy and a little more cozy.

These snickerdoodle blondies are quick to whip up, and the cinnamon and sugar coating on the top AND bottom crisp up in the oven to a nice crackle finish that melts in your mouth with each bite.  And the texture?  Like soft, chewy snickerdoodle cookies in half the time it would normally take you to make a batch.    Though the recipe was originally created for high altitudes, I've adapted it slightly for lower (a.k.a. Midwest) baking by reducing it by an egg and adding more sour cream for moisture.   I'd also recommend erring on the side of slightly underbaking them, otherwise the texture becomes more like a "cake" and less like a "cookie".  For me, 25 minutes was perfect.  

And as an added bonus, you can totally trade them to your neighbors to bribe them into shoveling for you.   Not that I would do that, of course.   *hides empty pan* 

So what about you?  What's YOUR favorite way to spend a snow day?

-------------------------------------------

Chewy Snickerdoodle Blondies
Adapted from Frugal Antics

1. Cream shortening and sugar.
2. Add eggs, one at a time, scraping down the bowl between eggs.
3. Mix in sour cream.
4. Combine flour, baking soda, cream of tartar, baking powder and salt.
5. Mix into shortening/sugar mixture.
6. In a separate, small bowl, combine ⅓ cup sugar and cinnamon.
7. Sprinkle half the cinnamon sugar mix into a 9X13 pan.
8. Spread batter on top.
9. Top with remaining sugar mixture.
10. Bake 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes.
11. You don’t want this too much like cake, so opt for less time if you need to.

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