corned beef hash

Holy shit. I'm a lard-ass. I mean really, how freaking hard can it be to keep my pie hole shut?!?! Ok, well, if I listen to that chum that was on Rachel Ray the other day, my brain is MAKING me overeat whenever I feel like it, but I doubt it. For example, I went downstairs to get breakfast in the cafeteria a little while ago. I had it all planned out in my noggin - yogurt or cottage cheese, some fruit, and a bottle of water. Or maybe some cream of wheat cereal with cinnamon, raisins, and a bit of brown sugar. Sounds good, right? Yeah, well my legs thought differently. I walked right past all those options and ordered a breakfast burrito with spinach, tomato, mushroom, hashbrowns, sausage, and egg, with a SCOOP of corned beef hash on the side. Yup. I ignored "healthy breakfast", blew right past "reasonable breakfast" and landed, ankle deep, in "seriously? Why not just inject that shit into your veins and skip the chewing?" And here's the really stupid part - as I'm typing this with my left hand, I'm shoveling the guts of my burrito into my face, because the salsa made the tortilla soggy, and I have a pure, unadulterated hate for soggy bread products. A girl has to draw the line somewhere, right? Yeah, well that's where my line is.

Ok, so enough bitching about food. Things are continuting to go quite shit-ily at Casa de Me. The Huz's company is probably going to close. And, because we're so amazing with money and all, we're going to try and buy it! Yep, hows THAT for logical? But, honestly, he's wanted this his whole life, and its not like we have much more to loose at this point, anyways. So, why not? I'll have to teach myself to be more supportive (stop laughing - miracles happen), and we'll have to somehow convince the SBA to give us a loan, but if anyone can pull it off, the Huz can. Speaking of the Huz, he truly is a glorious man. I was dead tired last night, and wanted to go to bed at 10. He wanted to stay up and watch tv for "a little while". He ended up staying up until 1 am ironing shirts and doing the dishes. Gem! He's a gem! Unfortunatley, this is not uncommon at our house. He does most of the picking up and "wifey" stuff, and I do most of the mess-making and baby-wrangling. I'm working on my self, and made a "lent" promise to give up laziness. So far its not working...I guess I'll have to actually WORK at it. boooo.

A funny thing.....

A friend at work sent me this....it made me laugh - which is not hard to do, but it hasn't happened in a while.

Women are Angels.
And when someone breaks our wings,
We simply continue to fly --
on a broomstick.
We are flexible like that.

Happy Congenital Heart Defect Awareness Week!

Hi tiny computer people! Happy CHD Awareness Week! I think its a crock that we don't get a whole month.....yet. But hey! A weeks better than nothing, right?!?!?! So, in honor of the cutest kid in the world (mine, of course) here are some fun facts about CHD:

• Approximately 1 in every 100 babies is born with a congenital heart defect. Each year approximately 40,000 babies are born in the United States with a congenital heart defect. More than 4,000 will not reach their first birthday, and thousands more die before they reach adulthood.
• There are more than 40 different types of congenital heart defects. Little is known about the cause of most of them. There is no known prevention or cure for any of them. More than 50% of all children born with a congenital heart defect will require at least one invasive surgery in their lifetime.
• In the United States, twice as many children die from congenital heart defects each year than from all forms of childhood cancer combined, yet funding for pediatric cancer research is five times higher than funding for CHD.
• One percent of all babies born will have a heart defect of some sort. That is four times the number of children diagnosed with a childhood cancer. And four times as many will die from their heart disease. Funding for pediatric research is painfully inadequate, even disproportionate, to the child population.

So, now you are wondering what you can do to help, right? :) Besides educating yourself and your child-bearing friends about the above statistics, why not....

• donate to a CHD organization
• donate an item to a CHD auction (ie: the one Camp del Corazon holds)
• register your customer loyalty cards (ie: Vons or Ralphs card) to donate Scrip to a CHD organization
• or, the most simple way you can help...SPREAD THE WORD!

-Encourage expecting parents to ask for additional information on heart defects during their (MANY) OB visits!

-Post Lyla's story, or the story of another heart baby in your life, on your Facebook, Myspace, Twitter, or other public forum accounts!

-Forward this information, or any CHD awareness email, to anyone and everyone in your address book.

Thank you for your support over the last year. We had no idea what we were in for this time last year, but I wouldn't trade our journey for ANYTHING.

Links to CHD organizations:

Children's Heart Foundation (www.childrensheartfoundation.org)

1in100 (www.1in100.org)

Camp del Corazon (www.campdelcorazon.com)

A vent...

Today is one of "those" days....it feels like things are never going to get better for us. The Huz is having a crappy day at work, and my sheer bliss at being busy at work on Wednesday and Thursday was short lived....it's back to the norm today. On top of that, thanks to our AWESOME Congress, we probably won't qualify to file for Chaper 7 bankruptcy. We have to wait to meet with our attorney tomorrow before we'll know for sure, but my ever-so-reliable gut instinct says we've yet again kidded ourselves into thinking something postive will happen, and it won't. This feels somehow lonely, even though I know there are people all over the country going through this exact same thing. How could we have done this to ourselves? To Lyla? Are we bad parents for getting ourselves into this mess? Bad people? I've always thought of us as "the good guys" - we both have college degrees, somewhat good jobs, we always carry a high amount of car insurance, we got married before starting our family, we saved and saved so we could have a baby, the list goes on and on. And yet, now that we're in trouble, all those efforts seem like nothing....like we wasted our time and energy. Blech. This sucks.

Full Bars - as in Full of SHIT bars!

(singing) "Sixteen tons, and what'dya get? Another day older and deeper in debt." Well, tiny computer-dwellers, its week "who the hell cares anymore" of my adventure to loose a zillion pounds. And, well, this week wasn't what I'd hoped. I tried these things called FullBars last week. The idea behind them is that they are basically puffed wheat cereal. You eat a bar, drink 8oz of water, and then have your meal 30mins later.....with the waterlogged cereal taking up lots of room in your stomach, so you feel fuller faster. Yeah. Right. I ate my FullBars like clockwork. 30 mins later, I'd have a SlimFast shake. I was looking forward to Sunday morning, when I was just sure the scale would errupt into a round of applause, and I would discover that I'd lost 12 or 13 pounds. NOPE. I told the Huz's sister on Friday about my awesome FullBar find. She asked me how much I'd lost. So, I decided to step on the scale a bit early (and yes, I know that you can get different weights at different times of the day - I was just looking for a ballpark number at the time). Well, holy shit. I was 9 pounds HEAVIER than I'd been at the beginning of the week! I don't care what kind of time difference there is between when you normally weigh your self and when you just decide to "take a chance" and see how much you've lost - 9 pounds is more than most newborns weigh!!!! So, I freaked out. The Huz told me to get a grip and try again in the morning. Well, that attempt resulted in a number that was even MORE frustrating, because I couldn't blame the time of day on it. Yep, I'd gained 7 pounds in week. I didn't even gain that much in a trimester when I was pregnant! So, screw you, FullBars! I was SO looking forward to seeing a smaller number this week, too! Booo.

On a totally unrelated note - why the HELL is the radiostation in my office playing Michael Jackson every other song today? Nope, I don't listen to KROQ anymore in the office. Too much beeping and screaming music. That, and I'm getting older, so now I listen to KOST - easy listening/soft rock. I've turned into my 11th grade English teacher. I knew it was coming, but I'm surprised it happened so soon. I'm only 29, for crying out loud! Anyways, back to MJ - just because his kids came on stage last night at the Grammy's and accepted an award for their "daddy" (sorry, but those kids don't have a black gene in their pool) now I have to listen to Earth Song and Man in the Mirror? A smart person would change the station, but it's not that easy to do when you have to make minute adjustments to the dial until some fuzz starts to sound like it might be a song....only to turn out to be some Spanish love ballad. I do live in LA after all.

Ugh. Being on a diet sucks. I'm just...well, I'm really.....ugh. I'm hungry. I'm hungry, and I'm looking up recipes on-line of things I can't make, because then I will eat them. Of course, even the thought of this makes me even hungrier. Hungrier? Did I spell that right? Oh well....I'm too hungry to care! I checked out what the cafeteria has to offer today....um....not much. Something called chicken noodle stew, some frighteningly adventurous Cantonese food (in a cafeteria? in LA???) and the normal, pizza-shaped, room temperature salt licks. So, again, I say to you BEING ON A DIET SUCKS! Although, I think I'm supposed to think of this as a "change in lifestyle" and not a diet. Whatever. I'm hungry.

I have my super exciting "getting to know your sewing machine" class tonight - and my sewing machine is still in the box. Granted, these last few days have been just a touch overwhelming, but I have no excuse for the 16 or so days before that, when I didn't have a care in the world, and had plenty of time to put this thing together. The Huz's suggestion was "well, when you get home tonight, put it together real quick before your class." Great. Thanks for that. I'd have never thought of that gem on my own! Here's the problem with that scenario. The class location is 15 mins away (at least). I get home at 5:30 after battling traffic for over an hour. I have to find something to eat before said class, because it lasts until dawn and we all know I'll be hungry before dawn. I'm supposed to put this machine together, which undoubtedly has 10,007 parts, in the 3 minutes I have remaining? Sure. It would have been great if the Fix-It Fairy had done it for me. But, the FIF was busy doing the dishes, getting a giant shot in his spine, and sleeping off the drugs from the aforementioned procedure yesterday. Soooo....this leaves me with a class I'm already too tired (and hungry!) to attend, a sewing machine I have no idea how to use, and a house to sell. Woe is me! Woooeeeeee!

On the upside, Lyla is morphing into a piranha. She's sprouted 2 teeth in the past 2 weeks, and we just saw another one beginning it's subterranean journey to the surface. Poor kid. She's taking it like a champ, screaming constantly and biting anyone and anything she can get her mitts on. The Huz and I are covered in drool, boogers, and tears (not sure if they are our own, or Lyla's.) And yet I'm still hungry. Hows that for a stomach of iron??

30

30 has become a very important number in my life. It's how old the Huz was when we found out we'd have to sell his truck, because "the Shop" couldn't pay for it anymore, and we couldn't assume the huge ass payments on our own (ok, seriously, WHY were the payments on a stock F150 over $500 a month? Anyone? Anyone?) 30 is the number of years we had on our fixed-APR home loan. And, heres the kicker, 30 is how old I'll be when we file for bankruptcy and short-sale our house. We've finally come to the realization (after being dragged to there kicking and biting, and having our faces shoved in it) that we are so upside-down on our house that we can't refinance, and we can no longer afford the payments. Ok, a little truth here....we've never been able to afford the payments. We thought we could. We thought "hey, we'll just pay the balloon payment for the first year or two, so we can start our savings and buy some fun new things, and then we'll start paying the full payment every month." That was a little over 2 years ago. We've been NOT buying "fun new things", and are still barely able to make our minimum mortgage payment every month.

On Sunday, we headed to our broker's office, somehow having convinced ourselves that we would be able to qualify for something, even if it only landed us in a condo or something. Well, you can start pointing and laughing now, because we were basically told that, not only would no one touch our loan with a ten-foot pole, but we were so far in debt that our only hope would be to declare bankruptcy, short-sale the house, and rent an apartment somewhere for a few years. I would have given anything to not have to watch the Huz's face as we heard that news. He feels like he's failed as a father and husband. I feel like a tool for not being able to convince him that we got into this mess to-ge-ther.

It's funny - I've hated our house from day zero. I hate the neighborhood, the neighbors (well, most of them at least), the gross park across the street.....EVERYTHING. And yet I cry every time I think of leaving the house. If we were just selling it, I'd be thrilled! But walking away from it? It's killing me. Lyla came home to this house! The Huz and I decorated her room together, and worried that the ceiling fan wasn't exactly centered (it wasn't....and I made him move it). She learned to crawl in the living room, and used to take naps on the floor with the dogs (supervised, of COURSE - gimme at least a LITTLE credit here, peeps!) Granted, ALL of my sentimentality with this house is linked to Lyla. The Huz and I had fun before she came along, but those memories weren't quite as sacred as the one's we've made since becoming a party of 3. And I know she'll never remember any of this. But still. It's crushing to realize that, no matter how much I hated something, it was MINE to hate, and now it's not going to be mine anymore. Which, of course, makes me love it. Why is that? It's like when some joke of a guy breaks up with you, and you suddenly forget why you hated him so much, and can only remember the good times you had together. And then you suddenly want him back more than anything else in the world. Although, if this is anything like that, if someone were to tell us "ok, well, you can keep the house afterall" we'd probably be stammering our way out the door, saying "oh, well, um, thanks and all, but, well, it's like this.....slam!" We'd be running down that ghetto black-asphalt driveway so fast people would think a new all-you-can-eat restaurant was opening up. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, right? Except the side of the fence that we're on....we couldn't afford to water our lawn anymore. So the grass on our side is dead. Brown, crispy, and dead.

on another note....

Yep! 2 blogs in ONE day! Take that, bloggy!

Ok, so seriously folks. I was just admiring the view through that little "window to the world" on the right (you know the one), and a picture of South San Francisco came up. There is this little rock jetty thing sticking out into the water, and a TON of people on the rocks, all pointing at the same big-ass BLACK TRIANGLE in the water about 20 feet out. I swear to you, tiny computer friend, sharks know I'm afraid of them. They know, and they appear when I least expect them to, just to freak me out. I think I died from a shark attack in a previous life. That's why I'm so freaked out by them now, see? That's my theory. You are terrified in this life of the thing that killed you in your last life. I don't think that my theory explains my irrational fear of toilet plungers or other people's spit very well, but its still a work in progress.

Anyways, I now have ZERO desire to ever visit San Francisco again. E.V.E.R.

What's with all the wet stuff?

So, the world is falling apart. It is, after all, raining in LA. Ee-gads! The roads! They're wet! My car! It might shoot off into a ditch! I know! I'll drive slow! And put exclamation points after everything!


Sorry, but LA drivers, you blow. And I'm one of you. I'm one of the good drivers though. I can talk, text, eat a sandwhich, and rescue Lyla's toys, all while keeping it between the white lines. Ok, maybe not really, but I'm definitley a better driver than most of you. Well, some of you, at least. No? Damn.



I decided to brave the train today. Since it's, well, raining and all, I didn't want to be even later than I already was, so Lyla and I jumped on a train headed south. She squealed and screamed the whole way. I'm sure the 400 30-somethings in their perfectly pressed pant-suits and Iphones were glad to see me and my big-ass stroller coming up the handicapped ramp. We got the usual sideways glances and stares at her helmet, but she doesn't care. I'm starting to not care either. Not that I ever really cared so to speak, but, well, just don't stare at my kid so much, ok? I don't stare at that giant mole on your face, do I? Ok, well maybe I do. But you get my point.



Sooooo, yeah. I just arranged for our first non-adult babysitter! I feel like a normal parent! (normal parents get worried about a non-adult babysitter 3 weeks early, right?) Since Lyla's first birthday party will be on the 13th, the Huz and I are celebrating V-day a week early. How? Not a clue. I'm about as romantic as a gynocologist, so this is already going out on a limb for me. The Huz loves romantic crap though. He's all about anniversaries, PDA's, and bull honkey like that. Me? Noooot so much. But, he's my Huz, so I'll make an effort. He's been through hell this past year, so it's the least I can do. Now, for where to go. We don't have ANY money, so Lawry's is out (awwww....that's where we went last year, when I was 13 months pregnant and Lyla wasn't even named yet! Meeeem'riiiieeeessss.....) We went to this really cool placed called the Pacific Dining Car for our holiday breakfast at work in December, but that is probably too pricy too. Ugh. Knowing me and my lame romance-planning skillz, we'll end up at Burger King. Nice, huh?

It's funny. One of my favorite time-wasting websites is Babycenter.com. Actually, to be fair, a lot of the people I've met on their are nice, genuine, caring moms. Some people are total tools, though. So anways, whenever there is some "event" (like Haiti, for example) I can practically HEAR the clucking of nervous hens! All these women (and the occassional man) get so worked up - it's like spooking a bunch of chickens in a hen house. Not that I'd know what that's like, since I'm in LA and all (insert hair flip here). But, the SAME kind of clucking just filled my office when we had a power surge....and I was clucking right along with the rest of the hens! I will always be the first to point and laugh when other people act like idiots, but, just this once, I'm admitting that I was laughing at myself, too. Lame, huh?

a random drive-by posting....

Ok, so I know that picture is really big, ok? But it's cute, so I'm going with it - for now.

There are a few things I'd like to address in today's posting......

- week 1 of the diet went well! I'm down 2.4 pounds, and my blood pressure is already making some improvement! A big part of my "success" last week was because I started cooking at home again. I know I'm a good cook. And I like to cook for other people. But cooking EVERY night gets boring. But, since the chef's at Chez Everywhere But My House are a little heavy handed with the salt, we're eating at home. That being said, I made some KICK ASS roasted veggies last week: cauliflower one night and carrots another night. The cauliflower was good, but I need to work on my technique a bit (they were tender and yummy, but I want them more browned and caramelized than they were). The carrots, on the other hand, were a freaking MASTERPIECE. I used baby carrots (I think it was a 2 pound bag?), tossed them in a bit of olive oil, dusted with dried oregano, and roasted them at 425 for a really long time, shaking the roasting pan every once in a while to make sure they were getting caramelized on all sides. I think they ended up cooking for about 30 mins, but when they were done they were tender, sweet, browned and lovely! The huz and I wolfed them down! Yum! I've got some zuccinni I need to cook, so I might try that tonight. Stay tuned for more on the zuccini. As a side note, the slim fast website says that if I continue to loose 2 pounds a week, I will have lost 40 pounds by June 1st! And, seeing as June 1st might be the start of a very big month at Casa de Formerly Known As, that's a VERY good thing! If I can keep it up even longer, I'll have lost 66 pounds by Brooke and Kyle's wedding! Well, actually, probably not, since I'll (hopefully) need to stop focusing on loosing weight at some point over the summer. But still! Something to shoot for, right?

-I'm tired of spending up to 4 hours a day in the damn car. Actually, if it was just me, I wouldn't really mind it. But LYLA! She spends more time in her car seat during the week than she does playing at home, and it kills me. Usually she sleeps to and from work, but still....what the hell kind of life is that for an 11 month old?!?! I'm probably going to start taking the train again. It's a pain in my ass, but at least that way my commute time is guaranteed, and she and I can sit and visit with each other, rather than just have her in a car seat staring out the window at all the jackasses clogging the 101.

-Brooke and Kyle's engagement party has been set for March 13th! I'm super excited, but I don't think Kyle is going to turn over the reigns to me. :( Oh well. We finally get to meet most of Kyle's family, so that's exciting!

-I bought a sewing machine!!! Did I tell you already? And, guess what? IT'S STILL IN THE BOX. Boooo. I have no freaking clue how to use this thing. But, I've signed up for a beginners "getting to know your sewing machine" class at Joann's....hopefully I'll be making crafty shit in no time! I think I've already given up on my idea about knitting. Between sewing and knitting, I think I'll be happier if I just stick to learning to sew first. Maybe I'll have time later to learn to knit. But, for now, I'm choosing to focus on running cheap fabric towards a rapidly moving GIANT needle with my bare hands. Eeek. It makes my fingers tingle - do you think anyone has ever lost a diget from a sewing machine? Besides Sleeping Beauty, of course. She didn't even end up with a scratch.

As you can tell, I'm pretty off my game right now. Someone is eating salt and vinegar chips a few feet from me, and, even though I've just had a Trader Joes salad and a shake within the last hour, I'm ready to jump them for those chips. It's very distracting!

I see you, 30. You just stay the hell away from me!

*thwack* Did you hear that? You turned around to see what it was, didn't you? That, my tiny, computer dwelling friend, is the sound of me slamming, full force, into the Wall of 2010, also known as The Year I Turn 30. I can't believe it's here. I think I am having a pre-mid life crisis (I reeeeaaaaally don't want to know if this is truly the middle of my life...I have great plans for 80. If things are going to stop at 60, I'm going to bury my head in our dirt-colored carpet. So we're going with pre-mid life crisis here, ok?) I keep having flashbacks of my senior year of high school. I had so many PLANS! I was going to travel the world, get a kick-ass job with a super high income and a corner office (instead, I'm a cubicle-dwelling hairless mole. Well, not hairless, and maybe not a mole. Muskrat? Meerkat? Some kind of obscure rodent, thats for damn sure). Luckily, some of the things I had in mind didn't turn out the way I'd planned (insert a big shout-out to the Huz here!) like the 8 kids I wanted-all with "unique" names like Afrika and Venus...ugh. I was/am a prime example as to why most 18 year olds shouldn't be allowed to have children. Afrika? Really? (Doesn't that "k" just give it that extra little ZING?) Anywho, on to 20....I mean, 30. Yeah. 30. Yaaaay. The Huz was excited about turning 30. He kept telling people "This is going to be MY decade. I'm going to OWN my 30's." Me? I want to return mine, and I haven't even received them yet. Let's just call it buyers remorse. Maybe it won't really be as bad as I'm thinking. It's not like the calendar is going to know that the big 3-0 is waiting for me at the end of April, and try to make everything just that much harder for me as a "gift". I'm not sure a year could BE more difficult than 2009, aka Laurel's 29th Year of Existence. It was a rough, rough year at the Formerly Known As house. Lyla was born with a broken heart in February, the Huz's dad died in June, Lyla had open heart surgery in July, the Huz's grandma died in December, and pretty much every month was plagued by a general sense of "don't answer the phone - we can't handle any more". Wouldn't it be great if January 1st actually had some kind of cosmic/kharmic significance, rather than just being a National Hangover Day? Not that I drink anymore. I am pretty much the most boring 29 year old you'll ever meet (yup, I'm using those magical numbers until the last possible second.) But lets just pretend for a second that I woke up 5 days ago with a wicked headache and no idea how I ended up sleeping in the neighbor's garage. Hey, so, while we're pretending here, can we pretend that I live somewhere other than the ghetto? Seriously. I spent New Years Eve counting gun shots instead of sheep while trying to fall asleep (AFTER MIDNIGHT, I'll add - boo yah!) Canoga Park, how I loathe you.

Aaaanywaaaaaays......so, it's been a while, huh? Did you think I'd forgotten my blogging duties? I didn't. I knew you were there, waiting in the shadows for me to come back. I just, well, didn't. I don't know why. I like you, blog, I really do! It's just that I needed some time to process everything we'd been through, and to evaluate my role in this relationship we have. But, I'm back, and I'm here to stay.

Some interesting things to keep in mind these next few weeks:
-Lyla will be 1 on February 19th. I am having a harder time believing this than I am believing that 30 is lurking at the end of April. Can we all just agree that the numbers 1 and 30 are evil, neer-do-well numbers that shall never be mentioned again? Ok? ok. Moving on.
-The Huz and I have each embarked on our own "Quest for Less of Us". Yep, we've started diets. We let last year become an excuse not to pay attention to our giant-ass bodies (ok, who am I kidding - I've used the last 29 years as an excuse to look the other way). But now, with things hovering on the horizon of the summer of 2010 that shall remain nameless for now, and a fabulous wedding to attend in September, we can no longer avoid the mirror, the scale, or the damn treadmill and Bowflex machines taking up precious real estate in my house! Stupid infomercial. Grrrr.
-My sister is getting married (hence the September wedding plug mentioned above). Yep - I had ZERO urge to get rid of my wiggly bits for my own wedding, but my sisters? I'm stressing out about fitting into my dress already, and its only January! Not sure how that works, but there it is.

Right, well, thats about all I've got for today. Not the greatest come back you've ever seen, I know. But give me a break. It's hard to move these sausage-like fingers over the keys these days. Say, do you think there is a "type your way thin" exercise DVD out there? Hmmm. I should google it. Ciao for now!