oh, sesamoids

in a foot, there are two odd bones called sesamoids. they are at the base of the big toe on the ball side of the foot. unfortunately, they reside very close to the surface. (see figure above.)

activities such as running or walking on hard surfaces without shoes can cause these bones to be irritated. mine are bothered. good news: nothing is broken, my bones looked "great," according to the podiatrist. but, it still hurts. so, i got extra padding for the bottom of my orthotics, and i will attempt to run tonight. what might set me back, though, is the massive beef and turkey sandwich i consumed from gate's for lunch.

ouch

my foot hurts today. same foot. different area. it's the bottom of it. i haven't been overdoing it. i'm going to the podiatrist for the second time this week to figure it out.

i hope it's nothing.

note to self.

don't buy a youth size 13 ski jacket ever. even if it is $100 cheaper than the same coat in a woman's size. just don't buy it - no matter how cute it is or flattering or how well it seems to fit. because when you get home and try it on with more than one layer beneath it, you'll realize the reason you shouldn't buy a youth size 13 jacket. the sleeves, which are two inches too short, are also a little too tight. and the neck, which wasn't made to fit an adult neck, does not provide enough room for an essential ski fashion - the neck gator.

so next time you're tempted to buy something that might have worked 15 years ago, don't. just don't.

a few good things.

1. A few weeks ago, Nick learned the "brooming" technique that should always be applied after shoveling. I now have years of ice-free driveways ahead of me.

2. A stock photography company gave a presentation at my office this week. On top of the stock photography knowledge I gained, I also took a free T-shirt and a free bottle of wine home.

3. The sugar-free syrup at our in-office coffee bar contains splenda, not aspartame. I really enjoy the sugar-free almond syrup. I also enjoy the fact that it will not give me a migraine.

4. Last night, I made fake-baked penne with ground buffalo, garlic tomato sauce, cream cheese, Italian fontinal and monteray jack. I also put lots of fresh parsley on the top. It was divine.

5. I rather like ground buffalo.

6. Last week, a co-worker accidentally called me a "bitch." I then received a handmade card that read: "Jessi, you are not a bitch. You are my friend. And friends make jokes." It may be the nicest card with the word "bitch" on it that i have ever received.

7. Last friday, Nick sent me tulips. They were light pink and white and they reminded me of spring. So now I say to God, "Bring on spring!" Bring. It. On.

irony

The new UPS Whiteboard campaign is borrowing clips sans words from the Postal Service's "Such Great Heights." I'm not sure very many people will make the connection.

sunrise, sunset

i just happened upon what is possibly the most depressing page on the internet. it's a tad bit ironic that it lives on one of my most favorite sites - the weather channel. but, i guess my most-visited site can't be all good all the time.

anyway, in planning an outdoor run for tonight, i wanted to see when the sun was supposed to set. i easiliy found the "Sunrise, Sunset" feature on the weather channel page and learned that the sun is supposed to say goodbye today at 5:28 p.m. "not bad," i thought to myself. "now that the shortest day of the year is long behind us, i can start looking forward to more sunlight, more vitamin E and more warm, fuzzy feelings." that's when i saw the rest of the information provided in this segment. it read: hours of daylight remaining 1 hour 44 minutes.

talk about depressing.
a clock ticking down to darkness. to when the earth is cloaked in black. to when it's not safe to run without reflective gear. to when things appear distorted and colder and empty.
ick.

....and after

after a long awaited hiatus, i give you a picture of our new fiber cement siding, new gutters, new shutters and new paint. enjoy.

pillow talk.

My dream has finally been realized. The to-die-for pillows I lusted after a year ago after a five-night stay at the Downtown Chicago Marriot have finally become mine. And let me just say that they may have been the best purchase ever. Far better than the designer jeans. Better even than the scratch-n-sniff t-shirt. Because I can now describe each glorious night of sleep with one sentence, “It was as if I was sleeping on a cloud.” Cloud 9, that is.

the night fried chicken stole my soul.

Despite my quest to lead a healthy lifestyle, there has always been a special place in my heart for some fried goodness. You know what I’m talking about. Chicken fingers. French fries. Funnel cake. Onion rings. Bacon. Bacon grease. Yes, bacon grease. Because there is nothing quite like several eggs fried in a pan that had previously hosted a pound of sizzling, fatty, salty, wonderful strips of bacon.

Nick and I have been known to consume an entire pound of bacon on our own. In one sitting. In five or ten glorious minutes. After a feat of such measure, we typically sit, full and satisfied, bacon grease sinking into our bloodstream, house smelling like a diner on a Sunday morning, happy, content, basking in the sunny feeling that only a pound of crispy bacon can create.

Simply, I love grease and fat and anything cooked in its artery-clogging sweetness. So, last night, when we agreed to go to Stroud’s with my dad and sister and brother-in-law, I was ready to eat. I ordered chicken fingers and cottage fries. I piled on the chicken gravy and salt. I skipped my salad to save room for the fried bits of heaven. But I didn’t skip the giant deep-fried shrimp appetizer. My dad said they import them from Japan, which allows for the exorbitant price of $3.75 each. Japan, maybe. But regardless, it was bigger than my hand and tougher than shrimp should be, but it was deep fried and delectable and so obviously not organic. Some may have called it shrimp on steroids. I called it heaven.

When dinner came, I started in on the chicken fingers, and then the cottage fries and gravy, but the strangest thing happened. Midway through my first chicken finger, after about 10 cottage fries, my stomach was finished. I felt like a brick had been dropped down my throat and into my gut. I wanted to die. I couldn’t even muster two bites of the famous Stroud’s cinnamon rolls that are great that night but terrible the next day. I was finished. Done. Tired. Gross. Bloated. And I had hardly eaten a thing.

I could make only one conclusion. In my quest for health, I conditioned my body to not accept pan-fried or deep fried taste sensations. My insides simply rejected it. No matter how badly I wanted to put that crispy chicken into my mouth, chew and swallow, I just couldn’t do it.

Walking to the car, I felt defeated. I was ready to conquer some Stroud’s, but instead, I’m afraid it conquered me.

Music at the lunch hour.

The Decemberists - Lost Angeles, I'm Yours

for the first time since college....

i have MLK day OFF!!!!!!

which would explain why i didn't care that the snowplow going down my street at 4 a.m. was loud and brightly lit.
this is also the first time that i can remember being jarred from sleep by a snowplow. i guess that's one thing my taxes are paying for. but i'm not sure it made much difference. the snow was not deep to begin with, and now, it's a slippery mess outside. that didn't stop me from venturing out to the gym this morning though. and yes, i rid my car of ice while wearing shorts.
shorts.
i know.
i'm crazy.
but seriously, the only thing that got too cold were my poor, gloveless fingers.

and now, for a random tidbit : in the past 3 days, i've run 14 miles. go me!

you must make these.

so, i've never called myself a food stylist or food photographer. but i absolutely had to take a picture of this heavenly creation. it's a lemon souffle pancake with raspberry syrup - made completely from scratch by nick himself.

i consider myself a pancake connoisseur, and this, dear reader, was one of the best i've ever tasted. so good, in fact, that i've included the recipe so that you, too, can take little (or big) bites of heaven.

we made rather large pancakes, and this amount of batter gave us four lovely ones. For more than two people, i'd double this.


Lemon Souffle Pancakes

Raspberry Syrup:

2 cups frozen, lightly sweetened red raspberries
1 cup maple syrup

Pancakes:

1 cup all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
2tsp finely shredded lemon peel
1/4 tsp salt
1 egg yolk
1/4 cup butter, melted
3/4 cup milk
3 egg whites
butter, optional
fresh raspberries, optional

To make the syrup, thaw the berries but do not drain. Place them in a blender container; cover and blend until berries are smooth. Press them through a fine mesh sieve into a small saucepan; discard seeds. Cook and stir juice over medium heat until just heated through. Stir in maple syrup: set aside.

To make pancakes: in a medium mixing bowl stir together flour, baking powder, lemon peel and salt. Make a well in the center of the mixture; set aside. In a small mixing bowl beat egg yolk slightly. Stir in melted butter and milk. Add the egg yolk mixture all at once to the flour mixture. Stir just until moistened (batter should be lumpy.)

In another medium mixing bowl, beat egg whites with an electric mixer at medium speed until stiff peaks form. Gently fold them into the flour mixture, leaving a few fluffs of egg whites. Do not over mix.

For standard-sized pancakes, pour 1/4 cup batter onto hot, lightly greased griddle or heavy skillet. Cook over medium heat 2 minutes per side or until pancakes are golden brown. Turn to second side when pancakes have bubbly surfaces and edges that are slightly dry.

Serve warm with raspberry syrup, butter and fresh raspberries (if you desire.)

sick.

i'm sick,
and it hurts
to breathe.
i'm tired of being sick
and tired
and sick
and i can't remember what it feels like
to sleep in a reclining position -
to rest without phlegm bubbling about,
trying to force its way
to
the
surface
resulting in a back-breaking
deep cough
that sounds like death rattling
but is productive enough
to produce
ugly
yellow
chunks
of nastiness
inside my mouth.
and then i ask myself
if i should swallow the thick mucus
or
stop caring what coworkers think,
pull out my trashcan
and hack that blob into its depths -
hoping to be rid of it forever.
knowing i will likely meet its clone
the next time
i cough
and sneeze
and become suddenly thankful
for the times when i felt
well.

when bad gas is made good with marketing.

Sometime early on the morning of Christmas eve, we pulled into a gas station to fill the tank before heading into the sunrise some 300 miles down I-70. About 50 miles into the trip, the Element’s check engine light turned on. And then, it turned off 20 miles later. It continued this trend all the way to our destination, and all the way home. We took the E to the Honda dealership when we returned from our travels. That’s when we learned we had bad gas.

The fuel system was covered in sludge and the only way to assure no further damage was to clean the entire system to the tune of a bit more than $400. Then, a light bulb appeared above my head, turned on, sent a lightening bolt into my brain and reminded me that the bad gas was from QuickTrip. The mechanic said that was the best news he had heard all day. Apparently, seven or eight cars had been taken to the service department that week, and they all remembered filling up at QuickTrip before their check engine lights turned on.

Here’s the best part. QuickTrip guarantees their gas. You’ve seen the commercials. It’s a brilliant marketing plan. All we had to do was have our mechanic fill out a form, fax it into QuickTrip (which conveniently happens to be headquartered right here in JoCo) and that was it. Our check for a bit more than $400 is waiting for us to pick up. And I will continue to go to QuickTrip - bad gas and all. Because if I ever get it again, I want to know it comes with an easy cure.

I love when having bad gas doesn't hurt.

my favorite albums of 2006

In no particular order. All incredible, inspired, magical works of art.

Copeland: Eat, Sleep, Repeat

The Decemberists: The Crane Wife

Citizen Cope: Every Waking Moment

Damien Rice: 9


Built To Spill: You in Reverse


Snow Patrol: Eyes Open



Band of Horses: Everything All The Time

how you find me

somehow, you find me. i don't always know how or why or what keeps you coming back. but, i thank you still.

sometimes though, i do find out how you got here. and i have to say none top the one i discovered today.

one reader found me by doing a google search for " my dog swallowed a tampon. "

that's right. i have arrived.

just one of the many reasons we love mr. gus.

did you find him? isn't he just the cutest. dog. ever.

i know.

(swoon)

a suggestion

although "run-down" is officially two words, i'd like to propose that it be made into one word - for emphasis.

like in the sentence, "i am feeling exhausted and rundown."

see. it's like shedding complete new light onto the meaning of the rundownness. totally incorrect, yet so totally perfect.

kind of how i like to write in fragments. and to use one word sentences - also for emphasis. often.

and to think, i'm a writer. (gasp.)