Fabulous Friday # 8: The Smell of Uncooked Rice

Yeah, I know how weird this sounds. But I'll be the first to admit that I'm a little strange, or as I prefer to think of myself, unique.
I couldn't tell you how I came to the realization that I love the smell of uncooked rice. I can only speculate that it involves a seven-year-old me sneaking up in the middle of the night, tiptoeing to the kitchen, and sharply inhaling the wonderful aroma trapped inside the rice container.
I also can't put into words what I love about the smell of uncooked rice. I will say, though, that it's completely different from the smell of cooked rice, which isn't nearly as wonderful to me, ironically enough.
But now that I've piqued your curiosity, go see for yourself. You might want to make sure no one is looking (because it is a bit difficult to explain), but go smell the rice you have in your cupboard, pantry, or, if you're like me, on your countertop (easy access you know).
And I'll kindly thank you not to judge or make fun of me if you happen to disagree with my nose's superior sense of smell.

Ahh...what a wonderful aroma!

Fantasy Football, flirting, and FUN!

Last week was incredibly busy for me, so I felt I should write about it. I also just sorta felt like writing. That feeling doesn't come along too often, so I figured I should run with it. So please allow me to break down my week for ya:
Monday: My only plans Monday involved Zumba and Monday Night Football. Most people probably don't consider MNF "plans," but I do. The Rams/Giants matchup was actually a relaxing one for me because I don't have any Fantasy Football players for either team and because I had won my matchup by Sunday. That's right; I'm 2-1, baby!

Tuesday: This was mine and Randel's weekly date night. I made enchilada casserole (only like the best dish ever), and we watched the finale of Teen Mom. Don't judge. You know how those MTV reality shows are. They suck you in and don't let you go.

Wednesday: Jennifer and I had a girly date at Outback Steakhouse. We had a hilarious waiter named Sam who took good care of us. He spent a lot of time at our table because he didn't want to go to the back where people were bossing him around. Also, we got hit on by a sixty-something year old man with a bad afro. He walked by our table, turned back, and told us, "You two pretty girls. Very pretty girls." A bit embarrassed, we thanked him, and then he said something about being drunk earlier in the day. Pretty sure he still wasn't sober. But oh well. A compliment's a compliment.

Thursday: Thursday is mine, Shawna, and Laura's weekly girls' night. We went to Target and just walked around, eating popcorn and drinking Coke from their little food court area. If you've never had Target's popcorn, you're missing out. It tastes like movie theater popcorn, which I can't resist. Plus, it's like 70 percent cheaper. Don't quote me on that. I don't do math. I just know it's $1.69 for a Coke and popcorn at Target, whereas at the movies, it's an outrageous eight bucks. And I'm not ashamed to say that popcorn and Coke was my dinner. It was filling and super cheap. Don't judge. After Target, we went across the street to Kohl's. I had a $10 gift card to use. After browsing several different sections--clothing, bed and bath, kitchen wares--I settled on yet another pair of comfy sweats. I justified my purchase since I basically live in sweatpants.

Friday: This was the day of the much-anticipated Zumbathon Shawna and I did with our Zumba friend Angela. The two-hour Zumbathon was held to raise money for the J.D. McCarty Center, for children with developmental disabilities. So we got to help out a good cause and shake our bon bons for two hours straight. And what better way to end the night than with a strawberry margarita at On the Border?

Saturday: Shawna and I didn't exactly have plans made, but we made a spontaneous trip to the outlet mall in the morning, went to Chicken Express for lunch afterward, then headed to Target once again. No popcorn this time, though. From there we went next door to Rue 21, where I bought a new winter coat--white with big black buttons. Love it. After our shopping expedition, I came home to get ready for my night in with Randel. We watched the OU game and called it a night. We're such an exciting couple.

Sunday: The Drop Dead Diva finale was Sunday night, so Shawna, Laura, and I prepared a feast for the occasion. We had apples and caramel sauce, cheese cubes, grapes, banana bread, Pepsi, and...wait for it...pumpkin pie! I pretty much live for pumpkin pie in the fall, so my first of the season was a big deal. And I have to give props to Laura, who made the pie. It was D-E-licious. Perfect meal (if you can actually call that a meal) for an EPIC season finale.

And that was my week. I spent a lot of time with people I love at places I love, namely Target and my couch.

Meet and Greet Monday: The Boyfriend

Seeing as how mine and Randel's one-year anniversary is this Saturday, I thought it only fitting to devote this month's meet-and-greet spot to him.
I know a lot of girls say they have the best boyfriend/fiance/husband out there, but I really do have a man who rivals most. Not only is he super sweet, patient (he pretty much has to be to put up with me), and funny, but he thinks I'm beautiful (and tells me so), more than just tolerates my crazy canine, and loves me unconditionally.
The year Randel and I have been together has honestly been one of the best of my life, as cliche as that sounds. We have a wonderful relationship, and I'm truly lucky to call myself Randel's girlfriend. We've had our ups and downs, like every couple, but we've certainly had more ups.
Just so you can clearly see what a wonderful guy I'm dating, here are twelve things I love most about Randel, one for every month we've been together:
1. No matter what I make for dinner, he always tells me it's delicious and thanks me.
2. When I was home sick one day, he brought me my favorite candy bar, an icee (which I love), and a rose.
3. He gets along great with my family and even plays board games with my mom and me. Once my mom found out he was willing to play Farkle, he was in.
4. He drove thirty minutes out of the way on a Friday at midnight (even though he had to work Saturday morning) just to find somewhere that I could get ice cream.
5. He's not the jealous type at all. Considering past relationships, this is a HUGE plus.
6. He didn't run away when I did my "drop it like it's hot" Sun Drop dance, even though he probably wanted to (and had every right to).
7. Without fail, he always asks me how my day was and seems genuinely interested when I tell him.
8. He watches Teen Mom with me. Enough said. (Although I'm pretty sure he secretly loves it.)
9. Like me, he can quote the entire script of the movie "Friday."
10. He lets me have time with my girls without complaint.
11. He loves me just as much when I'm "sweatpants, hair tied, chillin' with no makeup on" as when I'm dressed to the nines.

12. He's Randel, the sweetest, most caring guy I've ever met.

Yep, I've got a winner!

Happy anniversary to me and my guy!

Fabulous Friday #7: A Full Tank of Gas

Need I say more? I think not, but I will add that paying for this full tank of gas is the complete opposite of fabulous.
In one of the books I edited this month, set in 1936, a character bought eight gallons of gas and only paid $1.35.
Sigh...

Project: "New" Furniture

A few weeks ago, my friend Shawna mentioned that we should completely make over my kitchen table and chairs. While this may sound as though she was insulting my furniture, it was pretty grandma-ish and did not at all match my house. Also, I may have mentioned that I wanted new furniture. So her suggestion was not unfounded.

Before I knew it, Shawna, Laura, and I were at Hobby Lobby, picking out fabric for the chairs. This is what I picked:

Then it was off to Wally World for black spray paint because that fabric would have just clashed with my brown table and chairs.
The next week, Shawna came over, armed with a sander, a staple gun, and lots of patience. Project: "New" Furniture was underway.
The first step was to sand down the chairs and table.

We did not know what we were in for. The sanding is the most time-consuming and least fun part. But we wanted to get this project/party started, so while watching Monday night football, we sanded and sanded and sanded...and finished one chair.
On Thursday we got an earlier start and were able to sand two more chairs and re-cover all four cushions. The staple gun took some getting used to because every time we stapled it sounded like we were being shot at. I don't even like popping balloons or opening a can of biscuits, so I stuck my earphones in and listened to Usher while I stapled. Surprisingly enough, it worked well, and I was eventually able to staple without Usher's assistance. In no time at all, we had four "new" chair cushions.

Ooh la la, right?

We then decided to devote our entire Saturday to finishing my furniture. So we met around noon and got right to work. Within a couple hours we had finished sanding the chairs. We were anxious to begin painting, so we decided to save the table for later and headed outside to paint my chairs...and grass in the process. After a couple coats, we began sanding the table. The table didn't take nearly as long to sand as the chairs did because it doesn't have so many nooks and crannies.
So before long, we went back outside to begin painting the table. It didn't seem to be taking the paint at first, so we were a tad worried. But we just kept painting and hoped for the best.
By this time we were ready for a break, so we went to Orange Leaf and cooled off with fruit-topped frozen yogurt. We needed to beat the rain, though, so we didn't linger. When we got back to my house, we were pleasantly surprised to see how well the paint had covered both the table and chairs. We lugged everything back inside, set it up, and stepped back to admire our hard work.
I'm pretty sure I squealed in excitement. I really do love it. It matches my living room and kitchen perfectly, and Shawna and I are going to use the leftover fabric to make a valance for the kitchen window. My dining area now looks more modern and more "me." I really couldn't be happier with how it turned out.
And now, what you've all been waiting for...

In my excitement over getting "new" furniture, I somehow forgot to take "before" pictures of the table and chairs together, but I did snap a picture of one of the chairs pre-makeover.

Before

 

 

And here is the finished product:

After

And now you too can admire the result of our labor:

Ta-da!

(Don't mind the empty vase. I just put it on the table to add a splash of color and will eventually get around to filling it.)

Besides the sanding, this was a fun, easy project. I can't say the sanding part was hard or not enjoyable, but it was time consuming, and Shawna and I were just ready to see the end result. I'd do it again, if I had to, but luckily, I won't have to. Now that my table and chairs are black, I can just change out the fabric on the cushions when I want a change, which is the easy part. Plus, I'd get to use a staple gun. Once you get past the gunshot noise, it's really an adrenaline rush.

Kids Really Do Say the Darndest Things

Friday evening, Randel and I went to his best friend's graduation. After the ceremony, cake and punch were served while everyone stood around congratulating the graduates. Randel and I mostly just tried to stay out of the way, but we got caught up among a family with three small children. They were adorable and not shy at all.
The only boy in the family came up to me and loudly remarked, "I know you," to which I had no response. I did not know how to tell him he was mistaken, so I just went along with him.
"You do?" I asked in that voice reserved for small children you really don't know how to respond to.
"Yeah. You came to my...you came to my..." He scratched his head, clearly trying to remember just where he had seen my face. Before this information came to him, though, he was whisked away by who he referred to as his "psycho sister."
Randel and I laughed about how cute but obnoxious this little boy was, and then he returned. "I know you," he said again, as though we hadn't just been through this. "You were at my..." More head scratching and contemplation.
A couple more times he disappeared, only to reappear moments later, repeating the same thing. Finally, about the fourth time we went through this little game, he remembered where he had "seen me." "You was at my school!" he triumphantly announced.
What am I supposed to say? I definitely was not at this kid's school, but how do I tell him that? "I was?" I lamely asked.
"Yeah, that's where I know you from." And then he ran off again.
But of course, he came back, this time to tell me how old he was. "Do you know how old I am? I'm SIX!" he said, not giving me a chance to tell him that no, I had no idea how old he was.
Then he left to go get cake. A few minutes later, he returned and asked me if I wanted cake. Another time he said, "Did I tell you how old I am? I'm SIX!"
And the best part of all was when he apparently noticed Randel standing next to me for the first time.
"Who is he?" he asked, hands on his hips.
I wasn't exactly sure how to tell a six-year-old that Randel was my boyfriend (I'm kind of awkward around kids), so I said the only thing I could think of: "He's my boyfriend."
He gave a little snort, looked at Randel disapprovingly, and shouted, "Well, I don't like 'im!"
Randel and I just looked at each other and laughed, but six-year-old hilarious kid was soon back and this time said, "He's a punk."
Randel decided the cute kid was practicing his "macking" skills at an early age. So I guess I was being hit on by a six-year-old.
I don't get hit on by anyone on a regular basis, which is why, I suppose, I felt the need to share this with you, my faithful readers.
In any case, Bill Cosby would love to interview this six-year-old wanna-be mack daddy.

Fabulous Friday #6: Having All the Ingredients on Hand to Make Cookies

You know what I'm talking about, right? That cookie craving you get on a Saturday night or an afternoon you've spent just lounging around and don't want to go to the store.
Unfortunately (and I say unfortunately because of my poor teeth, not because cookies are in any way unfortunate), I get random cookie cravings far too often. Like twice a week. Now I know I can't just go making batches of cookies every Tuesday and Saturday. But every once in a while that darn craving just won't go away and I know I will not be responsible for my actions if I don't ingest some form of cookie soon.
This is what happened one Sunday night recently. I was feeling pretty lazy after church, so as soon as I got home, I changed into my PJ's and curled up with a book, The Help (which I'm loving, by the way).
After a few hours of reading and catching up on my DVR'd episodes of Will & Grace, the inevitable happened: my sweet tooth let me know it hadn't been satisfied in a while.
So I mentally ran through the ingredients in my pantry and fridge (at this point I was still on the couch and didn't feel like getting up if unnecessary). No cake mixes. Pumpkin pie filling but no pie crust (and yes, it's perfectly acceptable to make a pumpkin pie in September). Not even any Jell-O or pudding mixes. But what I did know I had were oats, sugar, and flour---most of the ingredients I needed to make oatmeal cookies.
So that is just what I did at 6:30 on a Sunday evening. I even had a package of walnuts to give the cookies a little extra somethin'.
And these cookies were quite tasty, if I do say so myself. They are now gone, as are almost all my oats. So I think next time a craving hits I'll have to go with peanut butter cookies!

Fabulous Friday #5: Getting Stuff Done During Commercials

I spend a lot of time in front of the TV, which doesn't leave me a lot of time for things like chores, sleeping, and showering, for example. (Please note: the showering thing is a joke; I always make time to bathe.) I am a time-management master and have figured out how to maximize my time by using commercials to get little chores done, seeing as how there are now about thirteen commercials during one break.
During one commercial break of "King of Queens" I can fold a load of laundry. During a commercial break of a football game I can load the dishwasher. I also use commercial breaks to get in some reading.
I haven't yet tried squeezing in a quick shower during a commercial break, though.
I have come to the conclusion that this is why I don't really like to watch movies---because I can't multitask during them...well, not unless I want to miss crucial scenes or plot points.
And now, during this commercial break of "Frasier," I am going to water my plants and will still be back in time to see Frasier and Niles enjoy a glass of sherry while they discuss their upcoming squash game/opera/how annoying they think Eddie is.

A Tale of Six Cavities

A few weeks ago, my friend Shawna and I bought a Groupon for dental X-rays, an exam, a cleaning, and a take-home whitening kit. We really just wanted the whitening and cleaning. Bear in mind, before Tuesday, I hadn't been inside a dentist's office in far too many years. Ever since I was a little girl with eight cavities (my dad bought me Starburst like all the time), I have been absolutely terrified of the dentist. So I knew going in that I would have a few cavities. If I had known just how traumatic this appointment would be, though, I would never have let Shawna talk me into getting the Groupon.
Tuesday morning, I woke up all ready for my cleaning and whitening. No nerves at all. Until we actually got to the office and I was called back. The chair, the machines, the gloves, the smell---all these combined to make my heart pound furiously and my palms sweat. I wanted to back out then, but as I followed the hygienist to the chair I would be occupying, I passed Shawna, who seemed to be doing just fine. She was leaned back, relaxed in the not-so-stylish sunglasses they make you wear, and actually talking to her hygienist. So I knew I could do it too.
And I did. I wasn't afraid of the pain (I mean, I was only getting X-rays and a cleaning). I was afraid of finding out how many cavities I had. I was guessing five, maybe six. Well, six was right, but in addition to this horrible news, I found out that I probably have to have three---yes, you read right---root canals! This is not good news for a girl who freaks herself out about getting a filling. The root canals are not definite at this point, but the dentist told me that if I leave the cavities untreated for a month, I'll for sure be looking at all three root canals.
In addition to scaring me with the news of how bad my teeth are, the dentist also asked me if I had ever had braces.
"No," I said. "Do I need them," I hesitantly asked.
"Well, your teeth are just really close together, and your front teeth are a little uneven because of the crowding," she told me cheerfully. Much too cheerfully.
I was devastated. I know I don't have perfect teeth, but I never thought I needed braces. And that wasn't all. She then told me that I needed to have my wisdom teeth extracted and suggested I think about getting Invisalign braces after that.
Apparently my teeth are so crowded that a toothbrush can't work its way in between them. And because I am a lover of sweets, sugar was just trapped in my mouth. So she told me that with diligent [read: obsessive] flossing, I may be able to get away with just filling the cavities. However, her tone told me that wasn't a very likely probability.
Once she was finished delivering the bad news about my chompers, she proceeded to discuss my treatment plan...aka: money.
Let it be known that I am an overly emotional girl. I have always known this, and I just deal with it. So it was not at all unlike me to burst into tears when the receptionist gave me the printout showing that in total, all the dental work I need done would cost me $4000.
I didn't mean to start crying. But from the time she told me I was a likely candidate for a few root canals, I knew it was going to happen.
The thought of the pain, the stress of paying for all this, and the realization that my teeth are apparently awful just pushed me over the edge, and the poor receptionist had to deal with a blubbering baby. Luckily, she was super sweet about it.
When I finally calmed down, she set up an appointment for me, handed me my goody bag of toothpaste, mouthwash, a toothbrush, and floss, and told me everything would be okay.
I'm still not sure I believe her.
Shawna's news wasn't much better than mine. Since we both had a $25 gift certificate to Outback Steakhouse, we decided to treat ourselves to a steak lunch to lift our spirits. After driving twenty minutes out of the way, we pulled up at Outback. As soon as we stepped out of the car our mouths started watering. We were immediately disappointed, however, when we read the sign stating their hours of operation. For some ridiculous reason, they didn't open until 4:00. It was 12:30.
That's just how the day went.
Four thousand dollars worth of dental work and no steak lunch make for a terrible Tuesday.
Wednesday turned the week around, though. I survived another deadline day at work, and Shawna and I ran one and a quarter miles at the gym then biked five. We figured that even though our teeth may be bad, our bodies didn't have to be.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go floss. Good day.