Buried Alive

So I'm assuming most folks with internet access or anyone actually following my blog, also has cable...I'm guessing.  And I'm also going to assume that you have seen a show on TLC about hoarders, and how they can basically lock themselves into a tiny corner of a room pooping their pants and then launching their dirty diapers into another corner, or if they can get access to it...their yard.  Well, I have a confession to make.  While I'm not currently taking dumps in my pants in a random lazy boy that also doubles as my bed, I am guilty, extremely guilty, of identifying and quite possibly could become a hoarder myself...yeah, it's true.  The time I realized I have a problem was while watching said show and identifying with the subjects that give meaning to every.single.item.they.own.  THAT IS ME.  Whether a snow globe, a card from my 12th birthday, a random notebook from an accounting class, an old calendar with plans listed on it, or just old clothes; I find meaning to it all and have a very difficult time parting.  My husband threatens that if I start this nonsense at our relatively new shared home...he'll set this bitch ablaze.  Seriously, just light it on fire with all my stuff.  And since I have a previous post about buying random "treasures" from the thrift store...this terrible event could actually take place one day.  So I decided to be a good wife, and while Geraldine is out of town (shocker) this week, I wanted to start tackling some of our closets.

I started by organizing some smaller areas in bathrooms and closet the guest bedroom.  But last night I decided to tackle the mother load...the broom closet in our kitchen area.  This thing has an assortment of mail, brooms, candles, car keys, dog supplies, and God only knows what in it.  It's really like a giant junk drawer.  So I went right in and just started pulling things out.  I noticed two boxes that hold thank you cards, one of which being monogrammed with my maiden name.  I guess now that I no longer really "own" that monogram or initials I should really toss the cards.  I opened the box ready to make my first big step in my battle with hoarding, I was going to really throw these things away, and of course I find some sweet wedding cards.

This could derail me...so I allow myself a moment to stop and read the sweet words that were inside.  But when I opened the card I was more paralyzed with shock than I was warm and fuzzy with happiness.  Inside the damn card was a check, for $50, of course dated for almost a year ago.  I then manage to look down and see another card...I brace myself.  Balls!! Mother of Pearl!!  Another check...for $100!!  Son of a!!  My eyes immediately can't see, I'm all of a sudden completely illiterate.  Who are they from?  What will I tell my husband?  What does this all mean?!  And are there others?? 

I knew this was literally the ammunition Jrock needed to argue that I'm not organized and really need to start cleaning up my "hiding" places in the closets.  I hung my head in shame and continued to dig through the mess, and luckily never found any additional checks.  Really not sure what I'll do with the two checks, especially since one is from a man with Alzheimer's, and I'm pretty sure I'd have a first-class ticket to hell for cashing that one.

I also found my bag of wedding cards and spent a good amount of time reminiscing about our "special day" and all the sweet things people had to say.  It really was sweet...so of course, I CAN'T get rid of those.  I just can't.  Hell, I won't.
Guess this whole battle with hoarding will just have to wait, cause for now I just feel an important bond with every.single.item. I find.  : )  Except for the random used tampons I just found in the guest bathroom...those I had NO problem tossing.  But that's a story for another time.

Case of the Mondays

I started a post last night, but never posted it...so here it is!

Another long day at work (I didn't realize I had not taken my lunch break until 3:45) and I'm finally home to relax, stuff my face, and watch pointless television.  Gerard is off to the west coast today leaving emo dog Rollins and I as each other's dates tonight...and every night until Friday.  But we're used to it.  I was actually a little excited about tonight because I got to stuff my face with leftovers...something Gerard isn't a huge fan of. 

A few weeks ago I was looking for an easy recipe to make for myself, and have to eat on for several days.  I like to try and eat somewhat healthy, but find that to be a challenge since I'm terrified of lighting my hair on fire if I try to grill, or starting a grease fire if I cook on the stove top.  So I really limit myself to baking, using the crock pot, or a Foreman, which I believe I've mentioned before.  But I found this recipe online and decided to give it a whirl.  It had spinach, and chicken...so how could it be that bad?  Bad, not hardly...more like AMAZING.  Maybe I'm biased being the chef and all, but this meal was to die for!  Only problem, I'm pretty sure it could have fed an entire family of 5-8.  So I froze the leftovers, and saved them for a later date...which would be now.

It's a Weight Watchers recipe I found online, and even though I literally have NO IDEA what the points mean, I figured it couldn't be all that bad.  So here ya go...

Weight Watchers Chicken and Spinach Lasagna Recipe

Ingredients:
- 1 sprays cooking spray
- 32 oz Marinara sauce, store-bought
- 1 tbsp olive oil
- 1 medium onions, chopped
- 1 pound uncooked ground chicken breast (I used ground turkey)- 30 oz fat-free ricotta cheese (I used fat free cottage cheese)- 2 large egg whites, lightly beaten
- 1 tsp garlic powder
- 1 tbsp Italian seasoning
- 9 dry lasagna noodles
- 20 oz chopped frozen spinach, thawed and squeezed dry
- 1 ½ cup shredded Kraft Natural Cheese Low-moisture part-skim mozzarella, or other brand (about 12oz) I decided to only place the mozzarella on the top...so it would be less fattening.

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350ºF. Coat a large, deep lasagna pan with cooking spray. Measure 2 cups of marinara sauce; set aside. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add onion; cook and stir until almost tender, about 3 to 4 minutes. Add chicken; cook until no longer pink, stirring frequently, about 4 to 5 minutes. Add remaining marinara sauce to skillet and stir until well combined; set aside. Mix together ricotta cheese, egg whites, garlic powder and Italian seasoning in a large bowl until well combined.To assemble lasagna, place 2 cups of reserved marinara sauce on bottom of dish. Layer with 3 noodles, 1/3 of ricotta mixture, 1/3 of spinach, 1/3 of mozzarella cheese and 1/3 of chicken-sauce mixture; repeat layers ending with chicken-sauce mixture. (Make sure to spread ingredients to edge of noodles.) Cover baking dish with aluminum foil. Bake lasagna for 20 minutes. Uncover; sprinkle with remaining mozzarella cheese and bake until cheese is melted and edges are bubbly, about 20 minutes more. Remove from oven and let stand 10 minutes before slicing into 8 equally sized pieces.

Makes 8 servings
Each serving = 8 Weight Watchers Points

I paired this with some bruschetta concoction I made from my fresh homegrown tomatoes and bread, and a tall glass of diet sweet tea.  Now I just have to wait around to see if this thing will give me food poisoning, cause I'm certainly not a master when it comes to properly freezing, storing, thawing, or cooking foods.  But I guess you already knew that.

The Break-up

So yeah, I've had radio silence on my blog for a bit, and I guess I should apologize.  But I really haven't had much to share or talk about.  I do finally have some awesome watermelons coming in, and we've enjoyed a few tomatoes that I grew as well.  I even made crepes this past weekend.  Yeah, I made crepes.  My life is boring, but I think I really like it like that.  I just got back in town to have emo dog greet me.  He showed his love by taking a lap around the yard, and then ignoring me.  I think he missed me, but it sucks coming home and not having Jrock there. 

I'm now in my office and doing the usual email and message checking and of course, facebook updates.  I realized that I think I'm outgrowing my facebook account.  It's a little too much like Myspace at this point, a bunch of people I'm not sure I give a crap about any longer, posting drama or stuff that doesn't really entertain me.  I don't care about the new item you just bought on credit cause you live above your means.  I don't care to see pictures of your new baby, your baby is ugly...yes, I said it.  Some babies are ugly.  There are ugly people, so obviously there are ugly babies.  I don't give a poop to see an office whore tagged in posts with the schmo she's banging.  And I really don't care to see my psychotic ex comment and write things on every single person I happen to know's wall every five minutes.  Nor do I really feel the need for your latest inspirational quote you found online, or need to find Jesus.  So I've now decided, Facebook...we're breaking up.  It's not you, it's me.  I'm just not into you anymore.  I no longer find you attractive.  You've lowered your standards over the years (and I could write many hurtful things at this point as to why I feel that way), and you've really let yourself go.  I'm not saying I'm deleting my account...we can remain "friends" but at this point I really don't know if I'll be visiting you any longer.  I've moved on.  Yes, I know those words are painful.  I have a few new girls in my life, Pinterest and Foodgawker.  And guess what?  They really have a lot less drama...and I like that.  But that Pinterest may be getting a Dear John letter soon...that bitch just tries to make me jealous by bragging all day. ; )

I'm sorry it has come to this, but I feel it's for the best.  I need to go focus on my crepe making technique, actually doing work, and being boring.  I like boring.