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.

Coinkydinks

Coincidences, or co-inky-dinks as my grandma likes to call them, really freak me out. My initial reaction is usually Wow - that's neat! But after thinking and eventually dissecting the coincidence, I get slightly uneasy. I think this is one of the reasons I should probably get Cable TV, as I would have a lot less time to freak myself out with nonsensical thinking. At the same time, I would have a lot less time for baking, which would probably lead to less blogging, and a noticeable drop in my likability factor. Don't worry friends, family and co-workers, I'm too addicted to recipe collecting and chocolate to quit baking.

Back to the topic at hand- coincidences, which for those of you who don't know, is defined as: A chance occurrence of events remarkable either for being simultaneous or for apparently being connected.

At work yesterday, a client asked after a retired employee of ours (Paul) and said to pass along their hello. I hadn't thought of Paul in ages, so thought it would be nice to send a catch-up email. He responds back saying all is well, blah blah blah. When I got home from work, I went on facebook and lo and behold, Paul's face is on my Recommended Friends List. Now, I thought this could be some kind of sneaky facebook thing, but I was using a different computer, so I can't imagine how that would work (suspicious by nature, I am). The next day at work, out of the blue, my boss mentions Paul to me, saying he had been talking about him recently. Weird!

AND THEN I had another coincidence happen yesterday. I texted Jess to see what she was up to and she told me she was baking oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. At that exact moment I had just finished making oatmeal chocolate chip cookie dough. And no, I hadn't mentioned to her that I was planning on making cookies, nor she to me. SUPER WEIRD.

REVISED: I totally forgot to add in the main reason I started writing this post. I found out the other day that Katie In India (yes that's what I call her these days) is reading the same book as I am. A book I had never heard about until I borrowed it from Nick's roommate on his reccomendation. This book is amazing and I was planning on passing it along to KTII when she returned, and then I discovered via Facebook that she is reading it right now too. Coincidence? I think so. Spoooky? Not really. maybe if the book was about a ghost or something. Or if my house suddenly became haunted. Uhm. ya...moving along....
Since, I'm pretty sure you expect it. I did some research and found The 20 Most Amazing Coincidences and picked my favorite two, although there were lots of WTF ones in there. Here they are:

A falling baby, saved twice by the same man
In Detroit sometime in the 1930s, a young (if incredibly careless) mother must have been eternally grateful to a man named Joseph Figlock. As Figlock was walking down the street, the mother's baby fell from a high window onto Figlock. The baby's fall was broken and both man and baby were unharmed. A stroke of luck on its own, but a year later, the very same baby fell from the very same window onto poor, unsuspecting Joseph Figlock as he was again passing beneath. And again, they both survived the event. (Source: Mysteries of the Unexplained)

A writer, found the book of her childhood
While American novelist Anne Parrish was browsing bookstores in Paris in the 1920s, she came upon a book that was one of her childhood favorites - Jack Frost and Other Stories. She picked up the old book and showed it to her husband, telling him of the book she fondly remembered as a child. Her husband took the book, opened it, and on the flyleaf found the inscription: "Anne Parrish, 209 N. Weber Street, Colorado Springs." It was Anne's very own book. (Source: While Rome Burns, Alexander Wollcott)

Super side note- the Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies I baked yesterday are delicious and the recipe can be found here. I had a super baking extravaganza and also made Banana Carrot Walnut muffins which are a huge hit with my taste buds and definitely have my endorsement. Recipe here if you'd like it. Pictures below, if you care. That is all. XO shelly.

nom nom nom.

Watsons (not so) Great Escape

Silence greeted me this morning -no meowing cat demanding breakfast at 5:30AM. Hmm, wonderfully interesting, I thought to myself. I then proceeded to get ready for work and it wasn't until I was getting dressed it that  hit me that watson still had not made an appearance. I'm thinking she's still sleeping, and proceeded to check any and all hiding spots.

Nada. Nowhere. I lean over my balcony and check to see if Wendy's door is open- it's closed. I take a cursory glance below the balcony and don't see any furry remnants. I call her name and shake her food to no avail. I check the hallway. Nothing.  I'm thinking the only logical explanation is that she's slept over at Wendy's or has gotten inadvertently locked in there. I email neighbour Wendy, subject line: Watson's Whereabouts. I ask if they had been hanging out this morning. I leave for work and get on with my day.

Lunch time rolls around. I check my emails and there is a reply from Wendy stating that she kicked Watson out last night at about 8 and hasn't seen her since. Insert pale face followed immediately by a look up, trying not to cry face. I had a work errand to do, so I left the office, dropped some stuff off and raced home. I head to the back of the building, all the while searching for the Watsonator. I check the bushes under my area of the building and don't see anything. Crushed. I'm pretty sure she's run away from home. I design a Lost Kitten poster in my head.

I continue to search the bushes along the walkway and suddenly I see a gray and white furry blob. Insert puke face. I call out a tentative "Watson?" and hold my breath. A small little meow is her reply. A flood of relief flows through me and I tromp through the (rather prickly) bushes in my (not super long) dress. She is hunkered down against the wall looking super terrified. I kneel down and move up to her slowly as I'm scared she's going to bolt and also that she might be hurt. I kind of give her a pokey jab to see what her response will be. No cry or hiss or much of anything, so I take it as a good sign and haul her up into my arms and run into the building.

In the stairwell, she launches herself from my arms and runs into the corner. Huge scratch across my stomach- ouch. lucky i am super in love with her at his point and I do not get mad. I collect her and manage to get my condo door open before she does another flying leap away from me. Scratch number two. insert swear word.

The first thing she does is walk up to the patio door, which i promptly close in her furry little face. I shake her food bowl and she runs to it and starts chowing down. I give Watson her obligatory brushing. I pretty much only brush her while she is eating. I started this habit as I realized that while she is eating she is too busy to attack me, so the brushing is usually a painless event.

I head out the door to go back to work, quickly sending Wendy an email to let her know that Watson is OK. She lets me know that she would be happy to take her to the vet and pay any vet bills. I thank her for her very kind offer but reiterate that Watson is unhurt. I decide to let Watson once again roam the balcony, so that Wendy can see for herself that the Miss is alive and well. I heard them chatting outside, so I think Wendy is appeased.

Since her escape, the furry girl pretty much won't leave me alone. I think she realized how awesome she has it up here on the third floor with a pretty decent mom and super great surrogate neighbour mom! I think we will go cuddle in bed now.

xo. shelly & watson.
PS. Stay tuned for the unavoidable, but surely entertaining Future Adventures of Miss Watson!

Christmas in July.

Oh.... you don't celebrate Christmas in July? *insert awkward silence. I would explain it to you, but I don't think you're ready for it.

We are a Christmas family. This past Christmas we switched things up and went to Mexico. I will take the liberty to speak for the rest of the family and say it was the best trip ever, but that we all felt a little Christmas-blues. No turkey on Christmas? It's blasphemous. I'm pretty sure Jesus would frown upon that. We had Italian food. it was delicious. It absolutely did not taste like Christmas. We spent the day drinking margaritas at the beach, seadooing and playing (and winning) bar games. Carol, god bless her, found us a mini pink and purple Christmas tree. She decked them with smarties balls, which was mind blowing! Smarties balls are a total re-hash scenario from the only other Christmas the Little's spent away from home- Whistler circa 10 years ago -another Christmas fail. The only part about our Mexican Christmas that felt like the holidays was the hangover I felt in the morning!

And all that rambling brings me to the point of my story...we need a DO OVER on Christmas, and no, we absolutely can not wait until December to make this happen. Christmas in July, folks! The second annual! Attended by various friends and family, this event features a FULL TURKEY DINNER and a sick amount of Christmas baked goods. I am hoping that someone either finds egg nog or goes to town and makes it from scratch!

 I was super excited at the prospect of breaking out my Xmas cookie cutters again and was debating between gingerbread and shortbread. Unfortunately, I was told that cookies were taken, so I defaulted to cupcakes. Red Velvet Cupcakes with Vanilla Butter cream. Total cheater cupcakes- I used a box cake mix and doctored up store bought frosting. I will not let you hold that against me, they are adorable and allowed me to also get my car washed and laundry done tonight!

THE SECOND ANNUAL CHRISTMAS IN JULY CELEBRATION IS UPON US! Coming up this Saturday, I am stoked for delicious treats, turkey, fake Christmas trees, and out of season decorations! Tis the (fake) season! Happy holidays. xo.

Behold.

Michelle's Christmas in July Red Velvet Cupcakes.

Guest Blog: KT in India

Happy Friday and welcome to a fun new game called "Guest Blog!" Pretty straight forward. Essentially, I will be stealing writing from my friends and posting it as my own. Fun, right?! 

Today's guest blogger is my dear and (not-so-near) friend Katie, who is currently traveling in India. Here is an email regarding her day trip yesterday to Chandi Chowk, which is one of the oldest and busiest markets in old Dehli...

This is why we are friends,
she can pour two drinks WITHOUT looking! mad skills.

I, leading the group, turn the corner from the main road, we’re on a hunt for the biggest mosque in India, but we get much more than we could have ever imagined. Slumdog Millionaire had come to life before our eyes – the India we had all expected to see was right in front of us.

There were buildings all connected, with power lines taking them over, stray dogs wandering everywhere you look, goats eating whatever lay around and sleeping on cars. I’d turn to see a cart full of fruit, then glance down to see a woman rolling on a board – no legs to stand on. I’d turn back often to make sure everyone was together. Through all this poverty, all the eyes looking toward the white tourists, we had a sea of smiles. It was incredible to me. The blind man shaking his cup of coins, the man with a hand cut off, the young girl with no hands, all smiling at us. They looked at us in awe and enjoyment.

There was a jumble of twenty or so motorcycles, half pulled apart, parts scattered along the road and a dozen or so men leaning down trying to sort it all out. As we passed, one head rose, followed by the rest – smiles on every face.

Through the distinct smell of urine, there were kids walking and chatting excitedly. They were so excited to say ‘Hello!’ and put their hand out to shake a white hand.

Motorcycles holding entire families were whizzing in and out between the bicycles towing loads of ladders and propane tanks, as we walked down the street getting honked at to move over further in the single lane that was infringed by street venders and people napping on a blanket behind a bike or two.
It was nothing any of us had ever seen before. You’d think one would leave such a place feeling depressed and sad, but we all walked out of Chandi Chowk wondering where all the smiles came from. It just shows that there are people all around the world that are much happier than us, with so very much less. Lesson received India.

I hope everyone can take something from this. We are very lucky to live the lives we do. Enjoy it. xo Michelle.

Cinnamon Buns

Ever have a block of cream cheese burning a hole in your refrigerator? Wait a minute...I think "burning a hole" wasn't an apt phrase for the topic. Re-write.

Ever have a block of cream cheese screaming at you from the fridge USE ME! USE ME!? Last week I sure did! I pretty much only use cream cheese for one thing: frosting. It is the gravy of the baked goods realm. You can smother cream cheese frosting on anything and it will be delicious. Guarencheesed.

Cream cheese doesn't usually last long in my fridge before I scheme up an idea to use it. My latest baking adventure: cinnamon buns.

I really can't believe I've made it 25.5 years without attempting these. Its crossed my mind a million or so times, but I was always leery as I am super set against using yeast in baking. Too tricky for this girl.

But guess what! Cinnamon buns do not need to be made with yeast in order to be effectively delicious. A quick google search brought forth a great recipe off a foodie blog called IowaGirlEats. No yeast, basic ingredients and straight-forward, non fussy directions.

I doubled the batch with unusually great forethought and boy am I glad I did. The smell in my condo was unparalleled. They looked incredible. It took all my willpower to wait 2 whole days to eat one as they were made especially for our long weekend trip to Osoyoos. They were well received by the group.

Pretty sure these would give Cinnabon a run for their money. Also pretty sure I will get diabetes in short order if I keep making (and over eating) sugar laden treats like this.

Feast your eyes: 

 

Interrobang?!

Interrobang... Sounds kind of dirty, right? Or maybe that didn't even cross your mind and my mind just dwells in the gutter.

The interrobang is celebrating it's 50th birthday this year, which I learned from my boss's birthday card -a delightful little handbook detailing out all the fun things that happened way back in 1962! Of course the only useful thing I gleaned out of that card was a fun fact about punctuation. Pretty sure that makes me a dork. I think the reason this struck a chord with me is because I often speak in interrobangs- it seems all my questions end excitedly (aka squeekily high pitched). Anyhow, here's your learning for the day (courtesy of Yours Truly & Wikipedia, of course):

The interrobang (often represented by ?! or !?), is a nonstandard punctuation mark used in various written languages and intended to combine the functions of the question mark and the exclamation mark or exclamation point (known in printers’ jargon as the “bang”).

American Martin K. Speckter conceptualized the interrobang in 1962. As the head of an advertising agency, Speckter believed that advertisements would look better if copywriters conveyed surprised rhetorical questions using a single mark.

Here she is, the interrobang. Feast your eyes:

The interrobang failed to amount to much more than a fad, however. It has not become a standard punctuation mark. Although most fonts do not include the interrobang, it has not disappeared: Microsoft provides several versions of the interrobang character as part of the Wingdings 2 character set.

End of learning.

Early to Rise

Benjamin Franklin is quoted to have said: "Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise."

Anyone that's ever had a sleepover with me probably harbors some resentment towards me about the hour in which I woke up in the morning. I don't really care to apologize, it's not my fault you are a light sleeper. I grew up in a family of (mostly - cough Lisa cough-) early risers. My dad and I were making plans for Saturday morning and I asked what time he would be picking me up and he said 8. My immediate reaction was to scoff and then barter. How about 9? Normally, I am awake, breakfasted, facebooked and at the gym by 8am on Saturday morning, BUT I don't HAVE to do any of that if I choose not to (like when I'm hungover). In return, he scoffed at 9AM. Not only did he scoff, but he said something about wasting the whole day away. I didn't bother arguing. Really, I feel the same way. I agreed he could pick me up at 8 for our errands. I didn't tell him this, but I am making him 1. stop at Starbucks or 2. take me for and buy me breakfast.

My usual route would be to wikipedia this but I had my doubts there would be a reference. Boy, was I wrong! Per Wikipedia:

Waking up early is a productivity method of rising early and consistently so as to be able to accomplish more during the day. This method has been recommended since antiquity and is presently recommended by a number of personal development gurus. The philosopher Aristotle said, "It is well to be up before daybreak, for such habits contribute to health, wealth, and wisdom."

Within the context of religious observances, spiritual writers have called this practice "the heroic minute," referring to the sacrifice which this entails.

Personal development writers have noted that waking up early can be developed through practice and correct preparation.

That is pretty much all it had to say, but man did I love every word of it. So now what I would like to do is help you all, all you sleeper-inners. I found a 13 step process called How to Wake Up Early, but that's a lot of steps, and I don't have the patience for that. SO how about 5 steps (with editorial comments in brackets).

1. Get a good nights sleep. (DUH, go to bed early and sleep soundly, keep your bedroom an oasis for sleeping).
2. Never press the snooze button.
3. Gradually go to sleep and wake up ten minutes earlier each day until you reach your goal time (goal time- crack of dawn).
4. Have someone else wake you up (this makes you not responsible for waking up early, so then if you sleep in you can blame the waker upper).
5. Cut the caffeine. No coffee or soda before bed. (I don't necessarily agree with this one, but hey if you suck at being up early you are the one who needs to make some changes).

OK, now go practice.
xo

Lone Dimple

"Hey, you only have one dimple," someone pointed out to me the other day. "Oh yeah!" I responded cleverly, in a super squeaky high pitched voice, face full of surprise. It wasn't even a fake mocking face of surprise either... it was an honestly shocked face. It's really not something that I've ever though too hard about.

I haven't always had this loner dimple- I think it grew in when I was a teenager. Now it's just kind of part of my face. Okay well not just kind of... it IS a part of my face. Ugh why do I use so many non-words? sigh. One day I'll get educated, I plomise.

Anyways, the reason this person pointed it out is they too had just one dimple. I think they thought this somehow provided us with an innate kinship. I disagreed. It did, however, provide me with a whole set of questions that I needed answered.

First off. Why just the one? I tried smiling super hard to see if I could make a matching one appear on my other cheek. No matter how hard I tried my left cheek refused to dimple. I examined my smile to see if perhaps it was a bit lopsided and maybe years of smiling crookedly inhibited a left dimple from forming... The only thing that proved was that I had food in my teeth.

I then checked pictures of Manda's face to see if perhaps she got the other one, but she did not- dimpleless that girl is.

So where has it gone, or perhaps more accurately, why does it cease to be? Why am I a one-dimpled-wonder? Lucky for you this is not a rhetorical question. I have answers! Their legitimacy may be arguable, but at least it'll help me sleep at night.

OK. Firstly, as per usual, Wikipedia.

Dimples may appear and disappear over an extended period.[2] Dimples may play a role in sexual selection.[3] Some cultures, for example Asian and Indo-ethnic sub-groups, prefer dimples as a sign of attractiveness and veracity.[4] Dimples may be genetically inherited and have been called a simple dominant trait.

Next, I decided to see what WiseGeek.com had to say on the subject. I tried StupidIdiot.com, but they didn't have anything to say on the topic.

The genetics of dimples is actually rather interesting. Dimples are a dominant trait, which means that it only takes one gene to inherit dimples. If neither of your parents has dimples, you shouldn't have them either, unless you experience a spontaneous mutation. If one of your parents has dimples, you have a 25-50% chance of inheriting the gene, since it means that parent inherited the gene from one or both parents. If both of your parents have dimples, you have a 50-100% chance of inheriting the gene, depending on how they inherited their dimple genes.

In most cases, facial dimples appear on the cheeks, although they can also pop up on the chin, and they are typically not visible until someone smiles. The changes in the face caused by a smile will bring out the dimple. However, some people only have a dimple on one side; this physical trait can actually be rather endearing.

Did you read that? RATHER ENDEARING! I am officially storing my dimple for special occasions now, or when I need to pull out the big guns to charm someone. Beware world!

After reading that dimples are inherited I polled the family to see who else has an affected face. You'd think I'd just know off the top of my head. You'd be wrong. Lisa says she kind of does. Amanda doesn't have bbm any more so is no longer reachable- but I am 80 percent certain her face is free of dents. I assume Mommadukes and Daddykins have or had them when they were young and fresh. If I had to take a guess, I would go with Glenn....

BREAKING NEWS> Carol just text me back. She has two dimples apparently. Interesting. Unfortunately, she's working so I can't get more than an affirmation from her at this time. Glenn's dimple status is still yet to be determined. But really, I feel my work here is done. We all can leave here a little bit more educated on something super non-consequential. You're welcome.

xo shelly.