Toasty Tushies

It has been a cold and damp day here in Minnesota. The wind is howling outside the window to ensure that you are aware of its presence. The leaves dance and whip across the road . . . well only the ones that haven't been weighted down by the rain. It is dark and somewhat gloomy. My fingers and toes are freezing. **Side Note: Troy calls them 'ice picks' when they get this cold. It is fun to 'attack' him with my ice picks by sticking them on his back or stomach. He doesn't like this game for some reason.** So, on my way home from work today, I turned on my seat warmers for the first time this season. In just a few minutes, my tushie was nice and toasty. They were cozy amist the depressing and unpredictable elements.

I love my heated seats. They are the best thing I have in my car. I didn't even request them. I never even thought about it when I bought my car a few years ago. The model at the dealership just happened to have them and that was the one I bought. Since I bought my car in May, I didn't reap the full benefits of this added feature for a few months . . . and then, it changed my life. I don't know if I can ever own a car without heated seats now, especially since I live in Minnesota.

Because of my beloved heated seats, my car has been dubbed, "the winter car" meaning that when Troy and I take long car trips, we use his car in the warmer months and mine in the colder months. More often than not, I have driven/ridden from the Twin Cities to Chicago with my heated seats on the entire time. I love them. They are like a satisfying hug! They make you feel nice when your feet are wet and your hands are, well, ice picks. Thankfully there are two heat settings. I always start out with the highest heat setting, because I am usually cold and want to warm up quickly. Then, my tushie might start to feel like a rotisserie chicken so I switch to the lower setting. Not so oven-like, but still very nice. It's fantastic.

Sometimes, heated seats can work against you. My mom had heated seats in her Durango. When my sister and I would ride in there, we would turn on the other person's seats while they weren't looking. By the time you realized that the seat was on, it was too late. Your rump was roasted. It would have normally been a welcoming feeling except we would do this in the middle of summer when the last thing you need is more heat.

I would like to end this blog with a poem: . . . . . . (ahem) . . . . . .

Ode to my Heated Seats
You are a lovely comfort.
Though I cannot feel my appendages,
You warm my rear and lower back.
Everyone loves you.
By everyone, I mean, specifically me.

Gross and Nasty Stuff

Today, there was not any school for students, but I had to attend a workshop all day. These are usually fairly boring, but we get paid for them and they always supply breakfast and lunch, so I go. I spent the first part of my morning being certified in First Aid. These workshops always freak me out because one of two things will happen. One: I assume I have all the symptoms of whatever really awful thing the nurse is explaining or at the very least, will have them soon. Two: I get lightheaded due to the talk of blood, lost appendages, eyeballs popping out, etc.

The first issue happened right when we began our session. The nurse was showing us what to do if a student comes to school with a tick. The nurse even had three different dead ticks tapped to a board so that we could see them up close. Well, I already know what to do. Stay as far away from that student as possible and send him/her down to the nurse. That was easy. **Side Note: For those of you who don't know, I have an extreme phobia of ticks. Ironically, I have never had one, but if I ever got one, there would be a lot of screaming and crying involved.** So, at this point, I already have chills and am making involuntary noises such as, "blech," "eww," "yuck," etc. But then she started talking about these poisonous spiders that have flesh-eating venom. Yeah, that's right. FLESH. EATING. VENOM. They are called the Brown Recluse Spider and apparently they generally live in southern regions, but some like to brave the cold Minnesota weather. The nurse was recalling all these stories (that happened in Minnesota . . . yikes!) she had knew of people getting bitten and then the flesh decomposing off their victims bodies where the bite happened. By the time we took our first break, I was already mentally constructing a plastic bubble to live in because between the Lyme's disease-carrying ticks and the flesh-eating spiders, I don't have a chance at survival.

Then we came back from the break and talked about what to do if someone has a seizure, a bloody nose, runs into a forklift and has internal bleeding (this was a true scenario discussed, which I found handy due to the exorbitant amount of forklifts we have patrolling the hallways at Stevenson Elementary School), cuts off a finger, loses a tooth, etc. There was even a really cheesy video to go along with it, complete with a thinner and more tenor version of James Early Jones as our host.. The acting was terrible yet entertaining at the same time, but they would show what looked like real blood. I had to look away from the television so many times. I already know I am not good with this sort of thing. One time a student threw up in the lunchroom. I couldn't even ask if he was okay because every time I opened my mouth, my throat would close up and I would gag. A friend, who knew I was not going to be very helpful, told me not to worry and that she would handle it. Bless her because otherwise our janitor would have had an even bigger mess on his hands. My queasy stomach is the same reason why I can't watch Ultimate Fighting (plus, I think it is barbaric) or any kind of war movies. I went to see Gladiator when it was in theaters. I had to leave at one point to go get a drink of water because I was getting so grossed out. Good thing I work in schools with young people who like to spew things out all the time, right? I mean, I have seen everything from puke, pee, poop, snot, and blood from my students, and it seems like they always want to touch me during these times. Actually, Little Jimmy, this is a great teachable moment about 'personal space.' Use your words, not your hands . . . on my snow-white pea coat.

Anywho, regardless of my gag reflex, I passed the course and completed pediatric and adult First Aid, asthma care and learned all about the First Aid topics (i.e. ticks, spiders, animal bites, fevers, etc.) Whoo-hoo!! These sessions like I had today make me worry about when we have children of our own and they barf and bleed all over our house and cars. At least at school, I can call for help and I know the janitor is going to clean up the mess. Who is going to clean it at my house? Troy isn't good with that stuff either. We can only call our moms so many times before they realize that we aren't calling them to "help" us, we are calling them to "clean without us." My mom said that it is different when it is your own kids. I don't know about that. I hope she's right. I might need to get Merry Maids on my speed dial . . . you know, just in case.

Halloween Parties

Halloween is one of the greatest holidays, for the sole reason that you get to dress up and pretend to be your character. I remember as a kid, my mom usually made our costumes and I hated taking them off at the end of the night. I also remember when I got to that age where it wasn't "cool" to dress up anymore. Remember that? What a bummer.

When Troy and I started dating, we talked about how each of our friends could take a holiday and host a party so that we would have more excuses to get together and celebrate. We decided that we would take the next closest holiday, Halloween, since we didn't want to come up with this idea and then force our friends to do all the work for it. We sent out invites and informed our friends that they better show up wearing a costume - or else! The party turned out to be a hit and last night was our fourth annual Halloween party at the Carlson Crypt. Our friends' costumes have gotten better and better every year . . . . partly due to the fact that we make fun of the folks who wear lame costumes. They have to put up with the ridicule for a whole year until they can correct their mistake at the next party. We have also thought about buying mustaches and making the lame-os wear them, but we thought that mustaches are really cool and then we might make the problem even worse.

I start thinking about my Halloween costume months before I ever get it. Usually my number one concern is humor. Is this costume funny? Next, I contemplate the comfort level. Since I am also rocking the role as hostess, I need to be able to pull the hot dog mummies out of the oven and refill our guests drinks without a costume that is too cumbersome. Finally, I think about the appropriateness of my costume. Unfortunately, women's costumes tend to be very suggestive and even if I wanted to go that route, I don't have the equipment to fill the top part of the costume. Plus those costumes aren't funny therefore negating my number one costume requirement. Troy on the other hand, only thinks about the funny factor, which is why his costumes are always ridiculous and awesome.

This year, we almost did not have a party. We usually plan our party on the weekend closest to Halloween, which would be next weekend, but Troy got tickets to go see the Chicago Blackhawks since they are up in the Twin Cities to play the Minnesota Wild. We decided that we had to have a party. Our friends were counting on us. (When I told my friend, Shari, that we almost didn't have one, she was very disturbed and made a comment similar to the effect of not wanting to hear that kind of talk again.)

After the party, Troy and I almost felt kind of sad, not the day-after-Christmas-sad, but sad because we have to wait a whole year before we can wear a new costume and party with our friends. Until then, we have our fabulous photos to look at and if that doesn't work, I know the it is only a matter of time before it is time to put the Christmas decorations up around the house.

Pumpkins, Surgeons & Granola

One thing that makes Fall awesome is pumpkins. I love pretty much everything about them . . . except when they are rotting. That's just gross. **Side Note: When I was a kid, we used to put our pumpkins by the fireplace and one year they rotted and oozed all over the cement. I think the stain in still there. In fact, the culprit may have just been this pumpkin you see here. Good times.** I love Pumpkin Spice Lattes and this yummy, new, pumpkin granola recipe that my friend, Krista gave me and of course, pumpkin pie. But I really love to carve pumpkins and eat the pumpkin seeds, although, I never bake the pumpkin seeds myself. Actually, I really only eat them when I am at home and my mom bakes them. I don't have the patience to pull off all the pumpkin guts off the seeds.

Troy and I usually carve pumpkins every year. This can be kinda stressful because it is a lot of pressure deciding what to carve. I usually have to think about my design for a few days, followed by many hours of internet searching for the most creative design with little carving effort. Finally, I choose the prized blueprint and draw it onto my perfectly chosen pumpkin, just waiting to be transformed. Then I get my carving tools out. Generally, I give up on the crappy little pumpkin knives you buy at the store because I end up bending them (I have really big muscles); so I go right for my sleek and strong kitchen knives (that can withstand my raging biceps). Then as I begin to work, I slowly realize that my drawing was not quite as simple as I thought and I end up spending way more time on my pumpkin than I had originally intended. By the end, I have imprints and blisters on my hands from my tools and my fingertips are all pruney from the guts, but it is all worth it when you light the candle inside and then turn off all the lights! Though this is a great fire hazard, Troy and I will put our pumpkins in our room and fall asleep to their spooky glow.

You may remember from a previous blog that Troy and I are really addicted to the television show, LOST right now. One of the main characters is Jack Shepard who is a spinal surgeon. Because I usually have LOST on my mind, I was thinking today about pumpkins and Jack Shepard. Eventually the two themes became intertwined in my brain which made me wonder if surgeons feel an added amount of pressure when it comes time to carve pumpkins with their families. I mean, technically, this is their livelihood. They should be able to bust out the most complicated of designs. Not only that, they don't even need to finish the procedure with sutures, they can just leave the open cavities. I wonder if they put on scrubs and a face mask while operating on their pumpkin. I hope so. If they don't in real life, they do in my mind.

Speaking of Jack Shepard, do you think that people named Jack constantly have people commenting on their "Jack-O-Lantern" during Halloween? I bet their are a lot of spoofs with that. Kind of like when people comment to me that my name is like the Pam cooking spray. Now, that's an original one. And yes, my name is just like the Pam cooking spray because I am pretty sure there is not another spelling for "Pam."

Anywho, the main purpose of this blog was just to wonder out loud (or electronically) how surgeons feel about carving pumpkins. I am also going to add the super yummy recipe for pumpkin granola that Krista sent me because it will change your life and although you don't add crack to the recipe, it feels like it once you start eating. You won't be able to stop!


Krista's Pumpkin Granola

5 cups rolled oats
1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
¾ tsp. salt
¾ cup brown sugar
½ cup pumpkin puree
¼ cup applesauce
¼ cup maple syrup
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3/4 cup dried cranberries
1/2 cup pepitas (I use sliced almonds)

1. Preheat the oven to 325° F. Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.

2. In a large bowl, combine oats, spices, and salt. Mix well.

3. In a medium bowl, whisk together brown sugar, pumpkin puree, applesauce, maple syrup and vanilla extract. Whisk until smooth. Pour wet ingredients into oat mixture and stir until the oats are evenly coated. They will be moist. Evenly spread the mixture onto the prepared baking sheet.

4. Bake for 20 minutes. Remove pan from the oven and stir. Bake for an additional 15-20 minutes or until the granola is golden and crisp. Remove from the oven and stir in dried cranberries and pepitas (or almonds). Let cool completely. Store in an airtight container.

*Note-serve granola with yogurt, milk, or enjoy plain

Beginning to Look Like Christmas

Saying I love Christmas might be the world's biggest understatement. Here's how much I love Christmas.

1. One time my sister, Laura and I jammed out to Christmas music when we were riding in the car. It was July.
2. The day after Christmas is one of the saddest days of the year for me because I know I have 364 days until I can celebrate it again. I am seriously bummed out.
3. One time, my friend, Krista, and I had a sleepover downstairs by the Christmas tree when we were roomies. It was awesome. We kept the tree lights on all night.
4. Krista and I would also decorate the week before Thanksgiving because we wanted to get ample enjoyment from the decorations.
5. I have a shirt that says "Santa's Little Helper." I bought it as an adult.
6. I generally have a Christmas song stuck in my head from the day after Thanksgiving until January and sometimes, even later than that.
7. I love telling perfect strangers, "Merry Christmas" instead of saying "goodbye".
8. One of the reasons we got married in December is partly due to my love of Christmas and the way the church is decorated during that time. (Here is where I am shamelessly uploading a picture from the big day. Aren't the Christmas decorations in the background awesome?! We took these outside the train depot.)

Now that you know how much I love Christmas, you can only imagine my delight when I went to Target today and found a small isle, tucked behind the Halloween costumes and skulls, that contained the beginnings of Christmas decor. I walked down the isle, slowly, looking forward to the next few weeks when that one isle would soon grow into many isles, like a Chia Pet. I picked up a few boxes of Christmas cards, imagining our friends and family opening up our Christmas cheer and hanging them with the other holiday greeting cards they have collected this season. I looked at the duffel bags for Christmas trees and imagined myself pulling ours out of the attic and fluffing up her branches like a prom dress. And then . . . well, then I was at the end of the isle and realized that my ground turkey was going to smell funky if I didn't get myself to the check out lanes, but I did hum "Go Tell it on the Mountain" while on my way.

You may have gathered that I am not one of those people who sees Christmas decorations in October and grumbles about how Christmas keeps coming earlier and earlier. I love that fact!! **Side Note: You should know that I am probably going to have a ton of Christmas-themed blogs in the up coming months due to the my love of this topic.** I know that there are not many of my kind out there. In fact, I only know of two other people who love Christmas as much as I do: Laura and Krista. Everyone else I know seems to be able to contain themselves long enough to wait for Christmas until the "appropriate" time. What a big, fat, bummer fest. No thank you.

We usually travel down to Chicago for Thanksgiving, but this year we are staying in the Twin Cities. When Troy and I made our decision to stay, one of my first thoughts was, "Now, I'm going to have to wait to decorate for Christmas!" I usually decorate the week before, using the excuse that we will be out of town. Since we are having Thanksgiving at our house, I'm going to have to wait until at least our guests leave to pull out my old friends.

Anywho, all of this to say, it's official - at least for retailers and for me - the Christmas season has begun, and I couldn't be more excited!

Crazy Cat Lady?

I am starting to embrace the fact that I might be one of those crazy pet owners. You know, the kind who talks to their animals, gives them kisses and believes that their pets truly are the cream of the crop. (Well, Olivia anyway.) I have only recently come to this conclusion while I was at work a few weeks ago. There is another woman who has cats and I often ask her advice on things cat-related and we swap "cute, cat tales." One afternoon, during our lunch break, I made the mistake of divulging too much information about my love for cats. While my feline fan did not think it was strange, a few of my other friends did and though they may have tried to hide their countenance, I saw the looks on their faces . . . they thought I was nuts. This made me totally self-conscience and made me reevaluate my pet stance. Maybe I am nuts. But my question to you is, would I have gotten those same looks had I been talking about a dog? I would venture to say no.

I am certainly not going to start the debate about which animal is better, cats or dogs. I think that question is completely irrelevant considering it is solely based on an objective point of view, but I do wonder why cats had such a bad wrap. Take our cat Olivia for instance. **Side Note: I will not be using our other cat Molly in my pro-cat argument because she still has lots of annoying kitten tendencies and sometimes she drives me crazy. I will use her when I need to prove a point. Is this skewing information? Yes, but it's my blog and I can do what I wanna.** Olivia is almost like a small dog. She greets us at the door, follows us around the house, sleeps with us and generally likes to be in the same room as us. As an added bonus, she goes to the bathroom in her litter box whenever she needs to, allowing us to continue our day, uninterrupted by potty breaks. Another pro is her litter box, meaning we don't need to worry about minefields in the back yard. Yes, Troy does clean the litter box (we made a deal that he takes care of animal poop and I take care of small human poop. It's awesome because we each feel like we are getting the better end of the deal), but at least he doesn't need to go out with the pooper-scooper every day to collect the waste.

So, what is it that makes dog owners feel superior to cat owners? There is definitely a stigma. Why is it weird that I care for my cats when the next person who is a dog owner is not found strange for having the same feelings towards their pet? Cats need loving homes just like dogs do and in many ways, if you know that you can't stand up to the responsibilities that owning a dog entails, cats are a much better option. I know that I personally don't want to wake up early before work to take a dog on a walk so it can do its business. I also know that I don't want to have to try and find a dog-sitter when I want to go out of town. I don't want a dog waking me up or scratching at the door when it needs to go outside. Grooming and vet bills can be expensive and what if my dog gets fleas or ticks and brings those along with his muddy paws into my house! And until I am ready to handle those responsibilities or if Troy is dying to do them, we will be content with our cats. But people seem to overlook these responsible checklists that cat owners make.

Now, I am not that crazy of a cat owner, despite what some of my colleagues may think. I do understand why people pour so much money into their animals and I also understand how it is possible to love an animal so much. I didn't always use to be like this. When I was growing up, we couldn't have any pets. Let me rephrase that, we couldn't have any fun pets, namely a cat or a dog. We had lame pets: fish, birds and gerbils. One time I did get a tadpole to take home after we studied them in my second grade science unit, but it never reached adulthood. And another time my sister and I had two rabbits, but we had to get rid of them after two days because my dad was allergic. Because we didn't have any pets that were "fun," I never understood people who would come to school sad about their sick or dying cats and dogs. To me it just seemed like that was the circle of life. I didn't know how you could get attached to an animal. Maybe that's the problem with the people I ate lunch with. Maybe they never had the chance to get attached to a pet. That's really not all that strange considering, I never knew that until I was 25!

Anywho, the point of this blog is not to rip on dog owners. Someday, Troy and I will have dogs too, but I am just trying to make a case for all those cute kitties out there. So, I am here to say, yes, I love my cats. They make excellent snugglers, they do funny things like make themselves cozy in the washing machine or hide under rugs, they are easy to take care of and all they want is a little love.

Things that Annoy Me

Can I be honest with you here? I mean, we're all friends, right? This past month has been kinda rough on me. Because of this, I feel like I am in a crab mode, which is unusual because I am usually a cheerful lass who can pull herself up by the britches and put on a smile. Anyway, due to my lack of normal glee, I decided to write a blog about things that are annoying. Plus, this can be a fun game. One time, my sister and my friend, Geoff, came up to Minnesota to visit me while I was in college. On our way home to Chicago, we played the "I Hate" game. It is really simple. One person lists something that they hate . . . well, that is really the only direction. The funny thing is that the other two people would generally chime in with agreement. This game is actually very entertaining, though negative. It did however, keep us occupied until we got to the Illinois state line.

1. "Come on, give me a smile!" I really hate this. I'll be walking down the hall at my school - perfectly content with life - and someone will say, "Smile, Pam! It's not that bad!" I think to myself, I wasn't even in a crabby mood until you said that, but now I want to punch you in the baby maker. Just because I am not grinning a toothy grin 24/7, doesn't mean something is wrong. My relaxed face is apparently very menacing. Thank you for drawing attention to it.

2. Pro Athletes that are Ivy League Grads. This is so irritating to me. These meat heads get a scholarship to hump a pigskin ball and they don't even take any courses that would valuable for life. It is just a means to get to the NFL. Meanwhile, people like me study their butts off and drool over financial aid packages that we never see. Bears quarterback, Jay Culter went to Vanderbilt. You can't tell me he would get into that school on academics alone. Ugh . . . and he is dating Kristin Cavillari. But that is another blog for another time. **Side Note: While we are on the subject of Jay Culter, I also hate how he wears the helmet on his head like in this picture. Either keep it on, or carry it. You look like a darn fool.**

3. Futuristic "I told you so". When I was engaged and at my showers, I would always hear something along the lines of, "Oh, just wait until you are married, then you'll . . . . gain weight, not care about how you look, stop making home-cooked meals, etc." Now that I'm married, I hear, "Oh, just wait until you get pregnant, then you . . . . won't be able to tie your shoes, have to pee all the time, be sick for six months, etc.) You get the idea. I feel like I am being lectured for not living as long as these others who feel the need to rub future (and not always true) problems in my young face. Can I just have these life experiences when I am at that life stage, please?

4. Shaving, then Freezing. I shaved my legs today. After I finished showering, I turned off the water, opened the curtain and my legs immediately got goosebumps. Well, shaving was now a big, fat, waste of time. Awesome.

5. Interrupters. This is more of a pet peeve that turns into an extreme annoyance. It's like what I am saying is not important. My students do this all the time. I generally look and them and say, "I'm sorry, I think I was talking." Sassy? Yes. Effective? Sort of, but this offense will most definitely happen again. I am always surprised when adults have this bad habit. So frustrating. Maybe I should just start talking to them like I do to my students. Look out, I might bust out the sassiness on your interrupting souls!

6. Middle Seats and Men. Normally sitting in the middle of two men would be awesome. UNLESS you are on a plane. Then it stinks. This is because men like to sit spread-eagle and very rarely are you sitting next to someone who is good looking. The only time I am lucky enough to sit next to a hottie is when I fly with Troy. At least then I can ask him to try and close his knees a little so I can reach my backpack.

7. Cell Phones and the Gym. Do I even need to elaborate? If you are at the gym, leave your cell in your locker or in your car. Nobody wants to hear your conversation while you lazily move your legs on the elliptical, unsuccessfully pretending to work out.

8. Defective Carts. With out fail, every time I go to Target to do my weekly grocery shopping, I always seem to choose the cart that has an invisible boulder on one or more of the wheels. I know it's invisible because when I check the wheels, I can't find anything. Then I slowly push the cart forward as though the perpetrator might sneak out. I never find him. Then I give up and just go with it . . . but I hating it all the time. I think sometimes the wheels openly mock me.

9. When people pronounce the 's' in Illinois. It's silent, people.

10. Time left on the Microwave. This is more of an issue due to the fact that I am anal, but I am so annoyed when people use the microwave and they take their food out before the timer beeps and then they leave that time up there. They don't clear it out for the next person. I think it's so irritating. Similar to when you are at the gym and the meat heads don't take their monstrous weights off the bar. Clear it out for the next person!

Well, there you go. A few things that annoy me. Maybe some of my comments will resonate with you and together we can fight these annoyances. I will sign petitions, make posters, and talk to my congressman if it helps. But in all honestly, I'll probably be too lazy to do that. It's easier just to whine in a blog.

Torture of the Toes

Here we are. The first day of October. We are officially in Autumn. I love Fall. I love the changing of the colors, apple picking, pumpkin flavored everything, Halloween and Thanksgiving. Tell you what I don't love about Fall - shoes. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE shoes. I read that the average person has ten pairs of shoes . . . obviously they didn't poll me in that questionnaire because I would have skewed the data with my outlier answer. I actually don't know how many pairs of shoes I own because I am afraid of what the sum might be. But . . . my favorite kinds of shoes are sandals and when Fall comes and it is time to let the open-toed shoes hibernate for the winter, my feet don't like it.

Yesterday I wore a new pair of flats. **Side Note: They are super cute. Black, with tons of tiny sequins sewn all around them. Just in case you needed a visual.** By ten o'clock, my dogs were barking. I already needed to put band aids on my heels so I would be able to shuffle through the rest of the day. This is the part about Fall that I have a hard time adjusting to. I have all these cute flats to parade around in, but my feet are not happy about the new tenants. My toes cry out with every step, especially the big toes who are used to having all this lovely space and fresh air. My heels try to prepare for combat, but ultimately end up in the infirmary with battle wounds.

I dread this season of year time and again, for this very shoe reason. I know that I just need to plow through these next few weeks of discomfort and I do so by careful footwear planning. For example, I wear the shoes that I have not yet made a truce with on days I know I won't be walking all over Minneapolis. Or I might put a back up pair in my monstrous purse in case I can't take it anymore. But I am a prideful foot wearer and will endure this Chinese Water torture of the feet for longer than most people probably would and I will do so with little complaining. Why? Because nothing sucks the cuteness out of a pair of shoes like a whine session.

Maybe you are currently struggling with the same issue during this season too. I am here to bring comfort and encouragement to you, my blistered friends. Remember, these next few weeks are going to be awful, but by Thanksgiving, your enclosed shoes will love your feet and your feet with love them back . . . well, what's left of your feet anyway.