just one reason why i love the PNW

Sure, they're technically volcanos that could destruct the entire region with one little hiccup (see: Mount St. Helens), but this kind of beauty isn't seen anywhere else in the lower 48 states.

Mt. Adams and Mt. St. Helens.

Mt. Rainier and Mt. Adams

Update: I guess you could argue that this little thing called the Rocky Mountains has the same kind of beauty, but I believe that's one of those things where you can lose sight of the forest through all the trees - right?

so close! yet so far...

Well, while going to the book signing to meet The Pioneer Woman last night was fun, sadly, I didn't get a [good] picture with her. Apparently, only the people who got there insanely early knew that you had to get tickets in order to get in line to get your cookbook signed. Considering I took two stupid wrong turns on the way there and got there only 5 minutes early, I was not one of these lucky selected few. But I did get lucky in that I got a pretty good viewing spot, considering how many people were there.

Insaaaaaaaane.

After a short and very entertaining Q&A session where we were graced with a delightful Ethel Mermen impression, people started getting in line to get their cookbooks signed and a picture with Ree.

Side Note: Most entertaining question of the evening: "How are you going to teach your daughters the difference between a GOOD hiney-tingle and a BAD hiney-tingle...especially when it comes to men?" You could tell Ree was thinking, "How the #$%& should I know???" AWESOME.

She's so pretty, and I'm jealous of her accessorizing ability!

Alas, I didn't get my cookbook signed, but the pictures I got was good enough. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go figure out how many miles I need to run after I eat her recipe for Mocha Silk Pie that I want to make this weekend.

a good day about to get better

Oh. My. Gosh.

I am literally bouncing in my work chair, checking the clock about every 52 seconds to see if it is yet time to go get ready.

4:39. Damn. Not yet.

Because once that clock reaches 4:55 (16 more minutes!) I get to change and make myself look somewhat/hopefully presentable to drive out to Beaverton, go wait in line at Powell's, and get my cookbook signed. The cookbook that I have gone through more times than I can count, salivating over the recipes that I would love to make, but am too scared to due to the fact that if I did, I would eat every single thing and then my clothes wouldn't fit anymore.

4:40.

I GET TO MEET THE PIONEER WOMAN!!!!!!!!!

Does that make me sound stalker-ish? I mean, I'm no stalker (4:41), but I've only been reading this blog and making these recipes for the past 2 and a half years. I was so disappointed when her tour last summer didn't go any farther west than Texas, thinking that I would never get to meet her. But now her mini cookbook tour is in the NW! Happiness, pure happiness.

4:42...

Yes, I will be posting pictures tomorrow. I'm so excited! Not only am I goig to the book signing tonight, but my boss got back from overseas today, so I actually had a busy day which made the day go by a bit faster. You know, except for the minutes right now that are dragging by. (4:43) AND my mom is in town, AND I got to feel Nugget kick for the first time yesterday (!!!!!), AND it was sunny this weekend.

Life is good!
(4:44)

A picture is worth a thousand words

the PERFECT excuse! uhh, i mean, REASON

Now that I'm in my 20s, I feel that I have earned the right to begin sentences with, "Well, when *I* was a kid..." For example, "When *I* was a kid, we didn't have these cool toys!" I mean, now little girls aren't playing with the wonderful miracle Easy-Bake oven (how DO they get a cupcake to bake in 5 minutes by the heat of a 100-watt lightbulb??), but are rolling out fondant and decorating multi-layer-cupcake-sized cakes. With real tools! Endorsed by Duff aka the Ace of Cakes! Do you know how much fun I would have had with that? Heck, even now I'm considering buying it just so I can have that same joy that technology hadn't yet evolved to when I was in the 5-13 yr. age group. While I had the mini-kitchen whose cabinet doors actually -gasp!- opened and closed and the burners on the stove were represented by red coil stickers, nowadays the lucky kiddies get to use a mini-kitchen whose refrigerator has an actual fake-ice-cube dispenser and the stovetop actually lights up when the burners are "hot".

Of course I'm not bitter, why do you ask?

Anyway. One of the other things that I have always wanted to do but could never quite justify spending the money on was the magical Build-A-Bear workshop. Where little kids can go in and biuld their dream stuffed animal, complete with matching outfit, shoes, hair accessories, and personalized heart that is placed inside the animal before being stuffed. All for the low, low reasonable price of ~$30. I mean, as a frugal adult, $30 seems totally unreasonable for a stupid little stuffed animal that will just be played with for 15 minutes before being cast aside forever as being too boring, but TOTALLY seems like fun to make. But now that I'm an "adult" and in my 20s, there is really no reason for me to go in and spend money on a stuffed animal that I don't even need.

BUT. Now I have Nugget to think about! I mean, a stuffed animal is a huge comfort item to a small child. And it is My Duty as an aunt-to-be to make sure that this little Nugget of joy is properly cared for, and has a truly adequate amount of love surrounding it at all times.

This is great! Now I totally have a justifiable reason instead of an unjustified want to go into this store! Add it to the new list of previously unneeded trips to the Disney store, FAO Schwartz, Toys 'R' Us, and the Lego store. BOO-YAH.

maybe I have an undiagnosed phobia or something

I fear clutter.

While I love the whole "homey, lived in" feel of homes with coffee tables topped with an array of magazines, the morning paper piled by the recliner, or the 324,780 pens in the junk drawer, it just doesn't work in mine.

Don't get me wrong - I'm no clean freak. And I inevitably have that drawer (or two. or five) that I can never keep clean and organized. But even though I can't keep it clean, it still bugs the crap out of me that it's there....taunting me and just BEGGING to be annihilated.

This weekend, I started the charge. General MacArthur would be proud.

Using my dad's infamous motto of "When in doubt, throw it out," I started waging a war against my room, cabinets, bathroom, and hopefully the rest of my house. I have a dedicated corner of my room where a pile for Goodwill is steadily growing, and I'm sure the garbage man loves the extra contributions I'm making to his job as well. Not only am I cleaning out things that haven't seen the light of day since our move back to Oregon 5 years ago, but I'm also (-gasp!-) noticing things around my house that really do require a trip to Lowes or Home Depot. The air vent in the hallway that's been haning crooked since July (it's not MY fault that the drywall decided to disintigrate), the cabinet door that is coming loose off of its screws, the formica on the counter that is starting to peel back (I'm sure the scotch tape holding it on won't last for long), and I'm sure that the furnace filters really do need to be cleaned. Do I know how to fix half of these things? Heck no. But that's why I'm so lucky to have male family members who are more than willing to teach me how to use the toolbox I got for my birthday last year.

You never know - I might find out that some of those tools actually have a purpose besides chipping ice out of my freezer =].

Anyways. There's just something about this time of year that makes me want to get rid of everything I don't need. Maybe it comes from the habit of getting ready to move every spring (which has been our tradition for the past 5 yeras), or maybe it's the fact that I'm actually growing up and having to do this stuff for myself. Either way, I'm sure that my parents are reading this and having minor heart-attacks, since they probably thought that they would never live to see the day where I'm trying to clean out stuff and work on house projects.

When did I grow up? And how do I make it stop???

All I know is that it feels sooooo good to have everything organized. Even if it is just the shoes in my closet, and only until I throw today's shoewear of choice back into my closet tonight.

Gampa? Pops? G-Daddy? Goodness.

Hello, my dear blog. How I’ve missed you. Ever since my place of employment decided to install new internet firewalls blocking most of my favorite blog sites, it has been forcing our relationship to crumble. Please forgive me and be patient with my tardiness in returning.

And besides, nothing THAT interesting has been going on. I get up, I go to the gym, I go to work, come home, and hit up the occasional happy hour or two.

But I did go home last weekend to visit my parents, and my sister and brother-in-law happened to be visiting, too. We had a great time, especially laughing over the fact that about every 20 minutes, we got to hear, “DAMMIT, I have to go to the bathroom AGAIN.” Nugget seems to be getting bigger by the day, and therefore having more of an impact on her bladder than K would like.

Ever since we found out that she’s pregnant, my mom has been ecstatic over the fact that she’s going to be a Grandma, and I think the entire town of Mayberry knows that she’s getting a grandchild in July. My dad, on the other hand, has a bit more control over his excitement. Don’t get me wrong, he’s happy for my sister and excited about Nugget, but the fact that he’s going to be a Grandpa….it makes him sound….old. Never mind the fact that the man has had a head of white hair since he was 20 and will be eligible for the Early Bird Special at Denny’s in a short 3 years, but he’s having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that his daughter is going to have a kid. A kid who will call him Grandpa and be a constant (joyful, I’m sure) reminder of his own age.

This being said, over the weekend I was deemed the lovely task of going to Mr. Google and finding alternatives to the name Grandpa. Here is a small sample of the names I found:

Gramps

G-Daddy

Boppy

Banpa

Papps

Grampster

PeePaw

Grand-Dude

Guppa

You get the idea. My sister refuses to bring up her child to call our dad “Uncle,” and he’s not too fond of “Grandpa”…what’s a family to do?

After some careful thought, my mom came up with the compromise/solution: My dad will be known as “PapaKay,” like all one word (it makes sense since all of our names start with the letter ‘K’)

Sounds young enough, dontcha think?