Ten Thousand

I just realized that this month I hit ten thousand hits on my blog. I have a sneaking suspicion that a lot of those were people looking for images and accidentally ended up on my page.Suckers!

Thanks to everyone who reads my blog on purpose! I hope you leave here somewhat amused or, at the very least, informed on useless information.

Thought you might find it interesting to see the breakdown of what countries read/accidentally stumble onto my blog.

1.  3886 Canada
2.  3544 USA
3. 413 Russia
4. 360 UK
5. 142 India
6. 137 Germany
7. 118 Philippines
8. 114 Australia
9. 114 Netherlands
10. 64 Ukraine

Just to be clear, I do not know ANYONE in Russia, the UK, Germany, the Netherlands or Ukraine. I know 5 people (combined) in the Philippines, Australia and India.

If I had a dollar for every site visit, I'd have TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS. Unfortunately for me, nobody would ever consider paying to read the drivel I display here, so all I have is a JPG of a Ten Thousand Dollar American bill.

Again, thanks for reading - I appreciate your literacy.

Misconceptions

Throughout my life, I've had lots of misconceptions about things that were largely inaccurate. In plainer, less fluffy words, I've been wrong about a lot of stuff, lots of times. I thought things were one way when they really weren't. Hmm, for some reason I can't think of the proper words to explain this phenomena, so I will just share a couple of things off the list. Here goes nothin'...
 
Seafood. I thought it was grossly disgusting because it looks and smells weird, and then one day, under extreme provocation, I tried a garlic buttered prawn and decided that it was chewily delicious. Next came deep fried calamari, dipped in tzitiki, and my reaction was the same. It made me realize that I pretty much like anything when it's sauteed in garlic butter and that tzitiki is a food for the gods. I still haven't tapped the Fish World yet, maybe by the time I'm 30 I will be brave enough to eat the slimy, scary swimmy creatures.
 
Drilling down that point a bit further, I'll tell you a little story. Growing up, my family spent a lot of quality time at White Spot - we still do, as a matter of fact. For years, I ate White Spot's Red Clam Chowder thinking the clams were chicken. The "chicken" bits were especially chewy but I guess my mom said they it was chicken and I never thought to question it... Until one day (it was a dark day) someone spilled the beans and told me it was clams. CLAMS! For months, maybe even years, I refused to eat said beloved soup. After the feelings of betrayal wore off, I jumped back on the clam chowder wagon, skipping the clams and eating everything else.

Moving along... Growing up, I had a Philippino nanny who pretty much raised me and my sisters while my parents were working. She is a great lady and I love her dearly. Please note, however, that I still do not forgive her for punishing me, by putting hot sauce in my mouth when I was bad. My memories grow fond when I recall the delicious dinners full (and consisting entirely) of white rice, bacon and soy sauce. Delicious! Anyways, back to the point- growing up, I'd never seen any pictures of this Phillipines place, so of course, I conjured up images in my head. I pictured the Philippines as a high tech, fortress style place. At one point, I watched the movie Total Recall (my dad ingrained in me a love of terrible movies) and for some reason I linked the Phillipines with Total Recall and from then on that is what I pictured. To be honest, I still do.
 



I think I'll leave it at that picture of Arnold. Not much can top that!

Christmas Cards

Yesterday, I received my very first Christmas card of the season! I got a heads up that it was coming, but it honestly slipped my mind until I saw it sparkling in my mailbox today. It took all my restraint not to open it right there and then. I even managed to take off my shoes and jacket before ripping it open! Well worth the wait, the message inside made me smile and go Aww (Sorry, not sharing the details)!

Last year was the first time I had ever mailed out Christmas cards. In between baking Christmas cookies and drinking a bottle of wine, I went to town on a large stack of them. I honestly can't recall what I wrote in any of them, but I heard good reviews. Although, I know I made a few faux pas - I mistakenly spelled one person's last name wrong and wrote "Douche Bag" as the addressee on another (my bad!). Every time I receive a card in the mail, I'm ecstatic. I don't get very much mail, other than flyers, the occasional bill and death threat, so getting Addressed Mail with sparkles and lovely messages is a rather fantastic event in my world. That being said, I assume that most other people like getting Christmas cards too. If you think otherwise, please do not burst my bubble - I am sending the damn things out regardless.

Originally, I thought to get super Martha Stewarty and make homemade cards, and then I looked around and realized it would cost me a million dollars and take a billion hours. I struck that idea from the list and am going to buy a set of Already Done, Sparkly, Wonderfully Cheerful Cards from wherever they are on sale. I am going to drink a Winter Ale or two, or maybe some red wine, and hopefully write some nice things to my friends.

If you are lucky you just might see one in your mail box soon:) 

PS, here is a picture of my Christmas tree. I went with pink, purple and blue this year. Everything, including my entire condo, is now covered in sparkles. Tis the Season!

 

Long Live The Shelly

I don't know when it started, but this habit slowly creeped up on me - I am a slave to the idea that I will die unexpectedly.

In the shower I always expect to slip and smash my head on the tile and end up in a crumpled pile in my bathtub bleeding profusely with nobody around to find me. At every intersection I picture someone crashing into me, demolishing my car and ending my life. Walking down the stairs at work, I imagine missing a step and then the preceding tumble down a flight of stairs. I picture hurricanes and earthquakes and zombie attacks and cancer, all of which will inevitably do me in.

In response to this negative mindset I've adopted, I have started making provisions. Making my bed, not leaving dishes in the sink, keeping my car tidy, ensuring my finances and corresponding paperwork are in order, putting my dirty laundry in the basket, and not storing excessive amounts of junk at my condo... These are just some of the things I do on the chance that I die unexpectedly.

I have literally had my hand on the door knob to go out and have had this thought hit me - "My dirty dishes are in the sink - what if I die and the police have to come to my condo?! They will think I'm a slob!"

I picture my funeral and how sad it will be. I guess at who will speak and who will No Show. I imagine their outfits and guess at the flower colors. I hope there are no lilies. I hope they bury me in sweatpants. God knows I don't want to be in a dress and heels for eternity. 

It hit me the other day that this mindset is definitely an issue and I find that if I blog about something I am then answerable to it. Hopefully writing this will stop the negative thoughts, or at least make me more conscious of them. I am not ready to die. Long Live The Shelly.

it's my birthday!

It's my birthday today. 26 big ones. yee haw. With birthday territory comes the "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to" song, which scrolls through my head all day. I've also already planned out a birthday route which will get me the most amount of free stuff - breakfast at Denny's, free lunch at Mongolie grill, billy miner pie at the keg and maybe a clown ice cream come at Baskin Robins. I love free and I love birthdays. I took today off work to take advantage of all the birthdayness of the day.

Being a twin, our birthday was always a big deal - we got to celebrate twice as hard and long to make up for the sharing of the day. It was fun to celebrate a birthday with someone. Someone who was having just as much fun as you because it was her birthday too.

I'm the first one to spout the phrase "sharing is caring", but it's not necessarily something I live by. I mostly say it because it rhymes and rhyming makes me giggle. I'll share my food, I'll share my clothes, I'll share my unwanted opinions.. all these things I can do without batting an eyelash. The one thing that irks me to share, still, after 26 years, is my birthday. We would get the same presents, sometimes in different colours and most often it would be one cake with two names scrawled on top. Unless you time the opening of presents and blowing of candles exactly, someone will be getting shafted. It took Manda and I a decade or so to perfect it, but we managed to get Shared Birthday Etiquette sorted out.

I think I was 20 years old the first time I celebrated a birthday sans-sister. It was strange. Since then we've missed a couple more; one year I spent my birthday weekend in Vegas. I came home to a surprise party being thrown for Amanda. It was a very strange experience. Nobody has expected me to be home yet, so there weren't any presents for me. The cake had her name solely on it. I wasn't even wearing a party dress. I believe I went home and cried myself to sleep that night. It might have just been post-Vegas blues though.

This weekend I will be spending this birthday in Whistler, which is one of my favorite places. The sister will be absent from this trip due to a death in her husband's family, which makes me sad for them and then super sad for me being without an Amanda for the weekend. Lucky for me, I got a talking toy hamster for my birthday and I think that will replace her nicely. *lol jk.

Because of their abrupt change in plans, we decided to cancel our hotel room, which was a 2 bedroom suite. At this point I still have not re booked a room. I am toying with the idea of using the Suite Secrets feature on whistler.com. Essentially, it's like Hotel Roulette. You can pick how many stars, the type of room and where it is located in Whistler - but you don't get to find out which hotel it is until you've entered your payment information. Could be fun? I've put it off for two days because I was nervous, but now that I'm 26 years old I think I feel ready. Wish me luck...and more importantly, wish me a happy birthday! and then go and wish Amanda one. it's only fair.

Floss much?

A young Asian girl takes me into the room and politely asks if she can take my coat. I acquiesce. She sits me down and tells me she'll be right back. While nervously waiting, I wonder where my usual girl is, I've been seeing her for nearly ten years and she was nicely broken in.

New girl comes back and informs me we are going to do xrays. I accidentally bite her glove as she's removing her hand. I apologize as profusely as I can while biting down on the tray in my mouth. She moves on to the other side and once again I bite her glove as she's pulling out her hand. Either her timing is off or I am retarded.

She asks if I've been flossing and brushing regularly. My deer in headlights look splays across my face and I just stare at her... "Brushing, at least?" she inquires further. I nod my head enthusiastically. Oh my, we're off to a bad start.

My long term hygienist peaks her head around the corner and says, "Watch out for this one, she's trouble!" I'm excited to see her but then wonder why she's not doing my teeth. Was it my lack of flossing that put her off? Am I only worthy of new girls? She inquires after my sisters and I tell her all the gossip. The new girl probably feels left out, but I don't care.

Before newbie sticks her hands and pointy objects into my mouth I ask wher her name is. She tells me it's Lisa. Great - Lisa! I like Lisas.

Lisa gets me to open my mouth and I do so, as wide as I can, hoping to win her over with my cooperation. She tells me that there is a fair bit of staining and asks if I drink coffee. I nod. Wine too, she asks? Uh huh. Now I'm nervous. So far, in Lisa's eyes, I don't have a very good track record. I curse my Optik White toothpaste for doing a half-assed job and vow to start a strict flossing regime sometime before my next appointment. After taking another look around she asks me if I ever had braces and I tell her No. She comments on how straight my teeth are (like I had anythning to do with that). I begin to like Lisa.

Back to business - she pulls out the whirly scrapy drill gun thing and has at'er. Within the first thirty seconds she hit a sensitive spot (damn receding gums) and my eyes well up. She asks if I'm okay and I mentally punch her in the face, but just make a gargled uh huh noise. She stops to suction up the pooling blood from my bleeding gums. She explains why they are bleeding - sensitive from the lack of flossing. She learns me all about my saliva glands and plaque buildup.

I have a sneaking suspicion this girl is fresh from Hygienist School. The tells: She hasn't quite mastered the art of not getting saliva all over my face. She adjusts the overhead lamp every thirty seconds. She feels the need to educate me about brushing too hard. She can't get the pedal speed quite right and goes from too slow to too fast on the polishing. Her use of the water rinsy thing made it feel like she was using a fire hose and the water got all over my face. She almost let me convince her that she didn't need to floss my teeth with a promise that I'd floss tonight (UNLIKELY).

Don't get me wrong, I like Lisa. She is the third best hygienist I've ever had. I just think her and I need a few more sessions together.

After a cursory nod from my dentist, I'm sent on my way. I don't know if it's the proximity to Tim Horton's (two doors down) or the fact that I'm not allowed to eat or drink anything for an ENTIRE hour... but every time I leave the dentist I get a horrible craving for a hot chocolate. I bet it would taste twice as delicious with a plaque free mouth.

Fall is here

Fall is here and that means no more beach time, boating or bathing suits. It means a significant reduction in margarita drinking and cheese-filled smokie eating. It means jean shorts, sandals and block rockers are being put away.

The arrival of fall makes me want to type a frowny face. This feeling usually comes and goes pretty quickly, because I force myself to remember that there are a few things I actually like about fall. In case you are suffering the loss of summer as well, I will share my list and hopefully bring you back to Happy Town. No promises, but let's give'er a whirl...

• fall means new clothes. Back to School clothes, if you will. Oh.. not going back to school? Doesn't matter. Go shopping, buy new things. It's cold out for god sakes! Boots and a jacket at minimum.
• Fall means my birthday is around the corner. October 19th for those of you who haven't memorized it. Put that on your list of things to remember, along with present shopping for said birthday. Hint: shiny is good.
• fall means delicious comfort food. soups, stews, chili and things covered in cheese. *Drools*
• it means fall-inspired baking can begin. You can't even imagine how fast I typed that. I super love pumpkin in baking and apples and doughy things topped with ice cream.
• On my To-Bake list: pumpkin chocolate chip cookies and pumpkin loaves; apple tartlets (so I can perfect my tartyness); something with beets (see previous blog).; and Halloween themed something - cupcakes or cookies perhaps.
• it means thanksgiving, a day of turkey and thanks for turkey, is 8 days away. Oh yes, turkey AND time to hang with the family as well, which is, of course, my favorite part. Oh and lots of wine, which is my second favorite part.
• fall means Halloween is nearly upon us. Super excited to see my dogs dressed up like hot dogs, my new nephew dressed up as a pumpkin. Side bonus: a whole lot of mini chocolate bars. Not that I would overindulge, that would be wrong.
• fall means Christmas is almost here, which makes me giddy. *spoiler alert* I'm decorating my Christmas tree in pink this year.

Welcome, Fall! If you could please ask your friend Rain not to join us, that would be splendid.

xo Shelly.

that's me in fall. nom nom nom.

Beeturia

My exposure to beets has been limited. Growing up I would see my grandma eat canned beets *shudders* and that was enough to keep me away from said tubers.

I changed my mind as I 'grew up', by that i mean, as I got older, the growing up part is debatable. My first grown up encounter with beets was at Earls, they were roasted and delicious but tasted slightly like dirt (earthy might be a more apt word, but at the time all I could think of was dirt). My second encounter with beets was, as most new food adventures are, with Katie - again roasted beets - again, deliciously earthy. I made a mental note to strike beets off my Do Not Eat list, but went no further.

Earlier this week, after realizing my freezer was empty and my fridge even more so, I decided to grocery shop and *gasp* cook some food. I purchased a whole array of vegetables, mini potatoes and chicken. Filled up one casserole dish with chopped bell peppers & zucchini,  another with onions, mushrooms & beets, a third pan with halved baby potatoes and a fourth with chicken breasts covered in pesto sauce. Stuck everything in the oven on super hot and took the pans out at varying times when they started to burn... i mean brown. Everything in the dish with the beets ended up a delightful pink colour.

I ate a king sized plate and packed the rest up in Tupperware for my lunches for the next 6 days.

Now here comes the real reason for the blog. For those of you who are squeamish, get out now- this blog will be out of your comfort zone.

My first pee the following morning was slightly pinkish. Interesting, I thought to myself...must drink more water. Later that day, pink pee again! Hmmm.. slightly concerning... but then it hit me, perhaps it was the beets causing this strangeness. I rushed immediately to a doctor to find out... and by doctor, of course, I mean google.

Here's what I discovered:

When some people eat beets, it turns their pee and poop red. Only 14% of the population experience this. Beeturia is the real name for this phenomenon, and it may be genetic, the majority of the time however, red pee after eating beets is a sign that your body needs a little more iron in your diet.

On the other hand, beeturia may be genetic, as the capability to metabolize the betalaine, or betaine, the red pigment, is a recessive gene, and with two recessive genes, a person would inevitably pee red each time he or she ate beets.

I don't eat enough red meat for sure and god knows I don't eat a lot of spinach or other salady things, so it could possibly be the fact that I'm low on iron. Conveniently, last night my parents were bbq'ing steak for dinner, so I stopped by and visited. I also inquired with my mom if she pees pink when she eats beets, but she doesn't eat a lot of beets and doesn't recall that ever being a problem. Odds are good I need more steak in my life. I don't see that as a bad thing. Perhaps I will have beets as a side dish with my steak, seems like a good pairing.

Stay tuned - I'm planning to bake with beets very soon! Either beet chocolate brownies or red velvet cupcakes with beets (which eliminates the need to use food coloring).

Michelle Kicks the BLEEP Out of Cancer (Round 2)

What's a few bucks?

Earlier this week, I accidentally spent a chunk of change on a new jacket. All week long, I easily spend 5 dollars on Venti Americanos at Starbucks. Let's not even talk about the 13 dollars I put out to go see a movie, plus another 12 dollars on popcorn and KitKat bites. The worst part is, none of that will help to cure cancer. But, guess what? Your donation of a few bucks will help cancer research. Donate now and let's kick the $hit out of cancer.

For the second year in a row, I am participating in 30 Minute Hit Kicks the *&%! Out of Cancer to help raise funds for the BC Cancer Foundation and women's cancer research at the BC Cancer Agency. Last year I did 50 and it nearly killed me, so I am going to be slightly more conservative this time around and just pledge to show my face at the gym a few times!

We all know people who have been hit by cancer and it’s our turn to hit back. Every donation counts - it all adds up!  I greatly appreciate your support and will keep you posted on my progress.

To make a donation online, visit my Personal Fundraising Page HERE! 

Seriously, go there and hit Donate Now.  

Baby Damo

Oh, you haven't heard? The baby is here, the baby is here! Damon William Swain-Little has arrived. He was born on August 31, arriving in the wee hours of the morning. Damo was born 5 lbs 9 oz, quite tiny. At just under three weeks old, I believe he is still under 6.5 lbs. Such a cute little guy. Unfortunately the night of his birth, I had left the hospital to go home and catch some sleep and missed the whole thing. To be honest, I'm not that sad about that- apparently it was a rather horrific affair. Luckily everyone was so exhausted that they left shortly after he was born. Know what that means? It means that when I showed up the next morning I was the first in our family to hold the baby. I am still stoked about that. Pretty sure Damon will be like 20 years old and I will still be telling that story. Crazy Aunty Shelly he will call me.


Welcome Damon and Congratulations Lisa and Slatedogg. Here's some shots of big Dmoney.

PS. I've given up on even trying to be the best aunt. Amanda has that in the bag. She likes diaper changing and doesn't mind being puked on. 

Butter Tarts Bake-Off

On Friday I came across this ad:

3rd Annual Great BC Bake-Off
Think you’ve got superior baking skills?
Prove it in our amateur baking contest!
Enter all three categories or just one.

1. Fruit Pie – any kind of fruit cherry, peach, apple, berry etc.
2. Open – anything goes within the outlined rules – entries must not require refrigeration
3. Butter Tarts  – this is a Canadian competition after all!

How could I possibly resist? Answer: I couldn't. My first thought was to enter all three categories, but that I actually had plans last weekend so I didn't really have time to do a bake-a-thon. For some strange reason I decided on butter tarts. I don't even really like butter tarts. I am not a pastry person. It's a guilt laden confection full of butter, or as I found out in my preceding research, lard - more on this later.

It's tart time. *Rubs hands together excitedly*. Normally I would go straight to google, but this, this is butter tarts. Butter tarts are an old people thing (and I say that affectionately). This is a grandma recipe - I phone her immediately. Her phone is busy. sigh. Three minutes later, she calls me back at work - the old broad has call display! I ask Nancy for her recipe, which she digs up and recites for me. The pastry recipe is my great grandma's. Apparently she was a great and avid baker. Must be where I got my mad skills from. My grandma then tells me she almost always just uses pre-made, frozen tart shells - such an ungradma move ***Face Palm*** twenty-five minutes of chit chat with grandma and I am armed with a butter tart recipe that looks deceivingly simple. I get scared and turn to google to counter research. At the same time I throw out some feelers in the office to see who has butter tart experience, advice or preference - there are lots of takers and I file their comments under 'uninformed nonsence'.

My research results pretty much showed that butter tart recipes are all fairly similar. There are only a few ingredients, so the amounts range slightly and there is a grand debate on whether or not adding nuts in is OK. I immediately, without a second thought, deemed nuts a Yes - pecans are god's gift to baking. In regards to pastry, all signs pointed me in the direction of the Tenderflake Pastry Recipe. It's as old as the hills (total grandma saying) aka tried, tested and true. For those of you who don't know- tenderflake is a brand of Lard. LARD! I've spent 25+ years avoiding lard. I don't even know, or want to know what it consists of. The fact that it doesn't need to be refrigerated, is colorless and mostly tasteless are enough for me to kill any and all Lard-yearnings. However, I sometimes must concede my snot-face and just bite the bullet and join the masses in their lardy lifestyles.

I borrowed Mom's tart tins, I believe they were wedding gifts to her 33 years ago. I thought it was kind of neat that I was using vintage tins to bake an old family tart recipe (kind of). Turns out old pans suck- they are not non-stick. Insert super aggrieved face. My first three dozen- that's 36 bloody tarts - stuck to the stupid vintage tart tins. I probably spent 1.5 hours rolling, cutting and filling those old, ugly tins. I even used an adorable flower shaped cookie cutter. Imagine the horror at having to scrape these pretty confections out of the tins - losing all the delicious crust of which I had so deliciately placed. IMAGINE! you probably can't. that's okay- I live that nightmare over and over again, certainly enough for the both of us. Following my scrape fest I went to bed.  By this time it was midnight. and I was tarted out.

6am, Saturday morning - up and at'em. I took my wonderfully chilled dough and grabbed my non-stick muffin tins and made fast work of three more batches. I even tried a batch in my new SQUARE individual brownie pan. they all came out lovely. I delivered some to neighbour Wendy and downstairs neighbour Cam. I dropped a dozen off for my parents, complete with my mom's tart tins. I packaged two dozen up to take to work on Monday and one more dozen to go to Nick's. I left a few at my house and set six aside for the Bake Off, of which I was now wavering on. Somewhere during this process, I realized that i might not be ready for a butter tart bake off. I mean, there's people who have been baking butter tarts for 30 years. I've only done one batch. True, everyone who ate them gave them a 10+ rating, but people are liars. I decided to bow out of the competition this time. I am officially on the lard bandwagon though and plan to perfect my pastry over the next little while. Pies, anyone?

 

 

Commissioned Baker

Laura From Work (LFW) agreed to cater a wedding for a friend of hers and asked if I would help with the baking. How could I say no? I actually, physically couldn't. Perhaps one day I will grow a back bone and learn to turn things down, but these days I'm a Yes girl. Unless it's in relation to eating Fish, then I can No the crap out of it.

After this adventure I realized that baking as work and baking for fun are two totally different things. When I bake for fun, I can mess around with the ingredients, let cat hair get in the goods and lick the spatula whenever I please. Work baking, not so much. Although I MIGHT have accidentally licked the spatula once or twice... might have! That is in no way a confession. I am a weak person. who can say no to spatulas covered in chocolate? If I ever meet that person i might light them on fire to make sure they aren't a witch, or perhaps stab them with a stake to make sure they aren't a vampire. No real, good human being in my association says no to chocolate. At this point, if you hate me because YOU don't like chocolate, you can leave. Go. go right now. check yourself into a mental health facility and figure your sh*t out. Then go eat a chunky KitKat bar and enjoy life. *rant over*

My baking assignment was this: 3 key lime pies, 3 batches of mini 2 heart cheesecakes (new york style) and 2 double layer chocolate cakes with butter cream icing.

The key lime pies turned out super amazingly delicious. I actually followed them up with a batch of mini key lime cheesecakes, topped with a key lime reduction sauce, but i still had more limes left so i made a batch of shortbread lime bars. This, of course, was after some limes had been appropriated as beer limes.

I made a double batch of the chocolate cake recipe and the first batch of cakes stuck to the pan which made them not usable. Apparently reading the directions helped. Step 1, line pan with waxed paper. Apparently greasing and flouring the pan is not sufficient. Oh well, those cakes are in my freezer and will be turned into cake balls at some later date - stay tuned. The other batches of cakes came perfectly.

Third- mini cheesecakes. 72 of them. that's 6 cupcake pans. LFW gave me 2 to use, I own 1 (which is blasphemous and which I will rectify soon by borrowing one of mommy's), and I broke into Cam's apartment and stole two more. Which is 5. So I made a TRIPLE batch of cheesecake batter, which is like 16 bars of cream cheese and a kajillion eggs and three tons of sugar. Deliciousness. Andddd time consuming. I had to pre-bake the mini crusts and let them cool, and fill each cup with filling and then put two dots of raspberry coulis onto each one and drag a toothpick through to make it look like 2 hearts, then i had to bake them in water baths and then chill them. A project and a half. They didn't even turn out that cute. Delicious yes, cute meh.

I made some bucks doing it and it was a neat project to undertake, so I guess it was worth it. My first commissioned baking assignment, and perhaps my last. Here are some pictures for your eyes to feast on:

Lisa's Cat in the Hat Baby Shower

My lovely little Big Sister Lisa is having a baby boy sometime between now and the middle of September. I personally have bets on the following dates: Sept 6, 7, 8 and 9. Us Littles are always early so I'm pretty certain the prize money is mine. I've already spent it, so I sure hope so.

Last weekend we threw Lisa (and La Babe) a Cat in the Hat themed baby shower. I designed and printed Dr Seuss themed shower invites with the help of my mommy. We went party supply hunting and hit the jackpot at Michael's with some Cat in the Hat paraphernalia such as a 6 foot tall Cat in the Hat poster and party hats (which nobody ended up wearing - boo).

The girls and I spent too many hours the day before baking up a storm. Brownies, chocolate cupcakes with vanilla butter cream frosting dyed blue to resemble Thing 1 and Thing 2, and sugar cookies iced in red white and blue. That's three batches of baking and three sets of frosting, which is a whole lot of dirty bowls and counter tops. Don't worry, Amanda made sure it was all clean long before we were done :) such a good housewife that girl is!

Lisa's best friend made 3 super amazing banners in Cat in the Hat style which we strung up around the living room - I can't even describe how pretty they were. Amanda ordered a Cat in the Hat themed cake which was mind bogglingly awesome. I peed my pants a little when i saw it. The cake sported a quote that said "A person's a person no matter how small.". cute, right?

I came out in costume when we were playing games and we all had a good laugh. The kids were mostly just scared of me. Hmmm... perhaps I will wear that costume all the time as a child-deterrent. uhmm just kidding, I'm not that evil.

I'd like to say I met some cool new people, but I spent most of my time in front of the oven watching things bake and then taste testing them. I then had to sneak out early to drive Jwolfs to the ferry, which means I missed the embarrassing party hat made of of bows and ribbons. It also means I missed the cleaning up- darn, my favorite part!

Overall great party. Super excited for the baby to come. Super excited to see him in all his new outfits and to NOT change diapers. Here's some photos. Get ready to be jealous:

Backwards Day

Every once in a while, I like to throw myself a curve ball. Now, I don't play baseball so I really don't know how to throw a curve ball in real life, nor do I know if it's even possible to throw yourself one. I imagine not. Luckily it's just a saying and I need not throw any balls at all. So, this proverbial curve ball I'm speaking of today is......wait for it...... Backwards Day!

I woke up feeling a little strange (stranger than usual) and decided that was a sign that today was a good day for some self-made entertainment. I'm not 12 so I'm not wearing my clothes backwards or walking backwards all day, I'm much more sophisticated than that *blows bubbles in her milk*.

My enjoyment for shaking these things up stems back from high school when my basketball coach challenged us to do things with our left hand instead of our right. Have you ever tried opening the fridge with your left hand? It's mind boggling and easily results in injury. All the same, it's a really great challenge and I learned how to open the fridge with my left hand. It made me realize how many things we do subconsciously with little or no active thinking involved.

So I started Backward Day'ing with breakfast. Oatmeal is my daily fare, I don't even consider any other breakfast foods Monday-Friday. This morning, I added all the ingredients in the opposite order I normally do. Banana FIRST, followed by milk, cinnamon, Splenda, walnuts and oats. I was really nervous this was going to ruin breakfast, but lo and behold- same deliciousness as per usual. In the shower I shaved my legs AND THEN washed my hair. I did my makeup BEFORE brushing my teeth. No holds barred! When I got to work (I drove here in reverse of course) I made a pot of coffee without putting any coffee in the filter. Zing! How backwards is that?! OK OK... I'm just an idiot and forgot to put the coffee in. Sometimes I need a cup of coffee to get my brain working enough to figure out how to make a cup of coffee. Today was one of those days.

It's early yet, but I can tell you that I am going to do some crazy backwards things today and here's an idea - you should too! Perhaps throw some left handed tasks out there !sdrawkcab epyt ebyaM. Going grocery shopping? Do the store in the opposite order you normally do- meat aisle first, produce last! Have breakfast food for dinner, but make sure you have desert first. Check your email Top to Bottom. Get crazy, people! Happy Backwards Wednesday.

Oh and I flipped this picture horizontally so this is Backwards Shelly. A sight to behold.

UPIs

Unidentified Party Injuries: Many years ago I picked up this saying from a bloke in Australia. Yep, boys are blokes in the land of Oz. It's not my favorite word, but I like to stretch my vocab and if I have to go international to make it happen, so be it. SO BE IT, i say!

Unidentified Party Injury, or UPIs as I affectionately like to call them, are the war wounds from a good night out. Mine are most always in the form of bruises- I often look like the victim of a bad car accident. Broken nails, scratches and cuts all make the list of accepted UPIs. Most often, there is no recollection of how these injuries came to be. Hold on Carly Rae's Call Me Maybe is on.. must dance.

And I'm back.

I would like to add a sub category of UPIs. I think I can do that as I pretty much own the rights to the word. Pretty sure it's not even a valid addition, but again, it's my blog and I can do as I like. *please note that I said that in a snotty British accent.

With the power vested in me (by no one) I proclaim Lost Items to officially fall under UPIs. The only reason I even am broaching this is essentially so I could segue into telling you about my really terrible streak of losing things lately. A confession perhaps it could be considered.

Two weekends ago I got slightly boozy and lost my clutch. No wallet, no cell phone, no lip gloss for TWO DAYS! I was super duper lucky and it was found and I got it couriered back to me. Everything intact, pretty amazing. Total happy ending on that one, which means that I totally didn't learn any kind of lesson. Clearly - considering last night I somehow managed to lose my wallet AGAIN (that makes 2 out of 3 weekends). We went on a boat cruise Saturday and ended up at a friends house and the bar afterwards. A full 12 hours of drinking, it would be fair to say that I had a few- like thirty - drinks too many. So many bad choices. I ended up with a mad (or perhaps disappointed, which is way worse) boyfriend; no idea where my wallet had gone to; and a missing bathroom bag. PS i AM super sorry, Nick.

Man oh man. Waking up with a pile of regrets, still dressed in last night's clothes and remembering the idiot face I proved myself to be the previous evening sure makes for a less than sunshiney Sunday morning. I took stock of my UPIs and found some pretty impressive bruises, a cut on my finger from a shotgunning stint gone wrong, and a lump on the back of my head from unknown origin. Unfortunately it's impractical to spend the entire day in *face palm* position, so I had to live with myself and continue on.

After checking around for my wallet (to no avail), we watched the musical portion of the Olympic Closing Ceremonies - super enjoyable -and then I moseyed on home and proceeded to berate myself and then went to bed early.

The next morning I awoke to a message from Johnny saying he had my wallet and bathroom bag. I flew out of bed and did a little jig. ... what? never seen me jig before? It's a sight to behold- lemme tell ya! Another lesson gone unlearned. Although I AM actively trying to figure out a way to not lose my stuff when I go out drinking. So far I have no solutions. Someone suggested I try drinking LESS. I filed that under Nahhhhhhhhhhhh.