Recap

I haven't written in a while which is becoming a terrible habit.  So, with the upcoming New Years Resolutions since we all didn't die on the 21st. (I think I came pretty close to going out with a bang however... I.E Raising a little ruckus, peeing in my front yard, making sure everyone and their mother had a yummy delicious shot every time they turned around and getting the cops called on us.)  I digress, as usual.

ANYWAYS, I choose to resolute a few things.  I shall list them below in no particular order.

• Write more on my blog.
• Maybe actually start writing the book I have always wanted to write.  I think I'm going to call it...well, I had a good name but then I misplaced in.
• Trade my fat in for lean muscle (I will get to that later.)
• Bathe smelly dogs more often.  That one for obvious reasons.
• Try to clean fridge out more often (remember this one, you'll need it for later on in this post.)
• Read more books this year than I did last year!  This one is a bigg-un. 

I think that's it.  That's it for now anyways.  I've been back to attending my box (Oh, you hush and stop being dirty).  I decided since it was becoming harder and harder to pick up two cases of beer at one time while at work, that just maybe it was time to start taking care of myself again.  Also, I want my arms to be amazingly toned for when I get my beautiful "Merry Christmas/Happy Anniversary half sleeve which will probably be more like a 3/4 sleeve."

I have been getting back into Crossfit and it's still as equally as amazing as it was when I took a sabbatical which I will NEVER do again because let me tell you what....I couldn't move for three days.  Getting back into Crossfit also means I actually have a reason to have a bright pink Blender Ball and drink Cake Batter Muscle Milk...which is a whole 'nother story entirely.

I made a huge discovery today while cleaning my house.  You can totally use your bathtub to wash your components from your fridge because your sink is too full of dishes that you pulled from said fridge. (Don't judge, I see you over there with yo judgin eyes!)  Holy freaking epiphany!  My sinks are super tiny anyways.  Also found in said fridge (which is why it's a resolution to clean it out more often)  was:

• 6 containers of sour cream with expiration dates varying from June to November.
• 1 Gogurt from when I still made his lunches (when we first moved in).
• 8 jars of salsa varying from Mild to Hot.
• 3 jars of jalapenos (all almost full)
• 3 bags and 1 blog of cheese (completely NOT paleo)

So I washed everything in the bathtub.  Don't you tell me I'm gross...I rinsed it.  I didn't have room in my sink because of all the Tupperware bowls I pulled out of the fridge as well.  It was a mess.  Now that is all said and done....I have only fresh fruits, veggies and meats in my fridge.  It makes me a happy wife.

That's all for today.  I will write more this week.  I promise.

Xoxo

Riley Writes

Go on, break it again why dontcha?!

I think my heart hurts.  Seriously.  I feel like it's broken a little.

My dogs don't want to snuggle in bed with me.

I think in a previous post I wrote about how they chewed their beds up?  There was fuzz strewn across the house multiple times.  In fact, I threw the beds away three weeks ago and I'm still finding fuzz everywhere after vacuuming a million times.  They both chewed their beds apart on three separate occasions, delicately taking the time to rip every single stitch that I sewed because they both pissed and moaned when they had to sleep on the hard plastic.

Hannah's first night without a bed.  I hardly got any sleep whatsoever.  She cried.  She huffed.  She puffed.  She cried some more.  Then she woke up in the morning as equally tired as I was because I think we both got the same amount of sleep...next to none.  I felt terrible for her but not bad enough to let her snuggle with us.  She's a bed hog and she always smells.  Her smell permeates everything she touches.  Kinda like in The Lion King when Mufasa says "Everything the light touches in the kingdom is yours."  Everything that Hannah touches has a funk that never seems to go away.  I say that with love, I really do.

After removing the beds, I put blankets in there so they had something sort of soft to sleep on.  They didn't like them but it was better than sleeping without one.  They would go in their kennels reluctantly but jumping on the bed beforehand to see if Mom and Dad would, just this once, let them sleep on the big bed!

"Oh please Mom, pleaseeeee?  We promise not to toot in your face like last time.  And if we do, we'll at least make sure your mouth is shut.  I know how mad you were the last time that happened."

So anyways, my wonderful and loving husband comes home and says he bought the pups new beds!  Hooray!  He brings them in and the puppies are ecstatic,  each one going into their kennels and sniffing, then laying down even though it's only 7 p.m.

Then a couple days ago, the unthinkable happened.  I got home from the pool, let them out of their kennels and laid in bed ready to take a nap (because my life is ridiculously difficult).  Henry jumped on the bed, gave my forehead a big lick because he's super sweet like that, and then jumped off the bed and into his kennel like it was no big deal.  Hannah didn't even jump on the bed.  I tried forcing her to snuggle but all she wanted to do was go back into her kennel.

Zach said "Oh, it's just a phase."  No.  No it isn't.  Now whenever the bedroom door is open and the dogs are missing, they are just a snuggling in their kennels.  DO I NOT DESERVE TO BE LOVED?  Seriously?  What is this Tom Foolery?  I want my puppy snuggles.  I want my Hannah to be the little spoon and Henry to snuggle next to my legs like he does.  I feel like not wanting to snuggle is the ultimate "In yo face" dis and I am not equipped to handle these kinds of heartaches.  I would liken it to not having your child want to give you a goodbye kiss because "Mooooooom, you're embarrassing me in front of my friiiiiiiends.  Can't we just high five?"

Hello, my name is Rachele and my dogs don't like to snuggle in my bed with me.

Xoxo
Riley Writes

Happy To Annoy You For The Rest of Our Lives Day!

With my very first anniversary as a married woman rapidly approaching, I have been feeling extremely nostalgic lately.  I love love stories.  My favorite ones are ones that would fall under the Romantic Comedy genre.  That's actually where my story fits in which works out great for me because I hate being all mushy and crap in front of people.

Have I ever told you about the time I forced my husband to date me?   No?  "But Rachele, isn't that illegal?" It wasn't in Florida at the time but that was almost two years ago so things may have changed.

I never used to believe in love at first sight but there was something about Zach that drew me to him.  I didn't speak to him other than mutter the phrase "What kind of beer do you want?"  I voraciously stalked him for a month.  Asking my coworker all the questions I could to find out about him.  I tried to no avail to get him to hang out with me.

I had no idea that my life would change during one brunch at the beach during February.  Now, I have never been one to be shy and not have words to speak with someone.  Somehow, all of us ended up at the beach. His friends and my friends.  I was within viewing distance of him but couldn't muster up the courage to talk to him.  So instead, I just pranced by while going to refill my drink (multiple times with extra shots of 151 on top, oh God...), hoping that he would notice me but knowing I was going to need some sort of liquid courage.  So basically, I spent the afternoon creeper staring at it all like "Ugh, why won't he come over and talk to me?" and my girlfriends suggested that I go and talk to him.  "Ugh, I can't he's too nice and I'm too much of an asshole.  Look at him over there being all sweet and shy.  Do you think he's looking at me?  I can't tell"

"Rachele, stop being a creeper and go talk to him!  All you're doing is staring.  You're being creepy."

"But I'm a really really reaaaaallllllly good creeper.  What do I say?  He's all sweet looking and stuff and then there's me.  Drunk and stuff.  Is it time for another drink yet?  Who's going with me?"

Long story short, after we moved to the next bar I coerced him into sitting next to me by abrasively stating "You....are sitting rigggght here.  On this stool.  That I placed right next to me."  I cannot recall much of the conversation because I may have been plastered but I do remember asking him just why he hadn't asked me for my phone number.  Then I gave it to him and 15 minutes later I sent him a text asking him why he hadn't asked me out on a date.  We had a date that Thursday!  It was awkward.  He talked too fast and used his hands a lot.  I was completely unsure of how the date was going because I wasn't too overly excited.  It wasn't until we were purchasing our tickets to see Gnomeo & Juliet, he told me "Your face is an odd zipcode."  I think it was at that point, somewhere in my little tiny Grinch's heart that I knew I would marry him....but it didn't really know.  Or maybe it did, I just ignored it.

For being known as the girl who would never get married, I knew within two months that he was/is it for me.  I would tell my friends and get lots of odd looks, mostly in amazement that I had actually met someone I wanted to be around all the time and that actually didn't mind putting up with me.

I have learned a lot from being married to such an amazing person.  I am so glad that I set my standards so high. Something in me knew that eventually, there would be someone out there who is equally as goofy and loving as I am, made just for me.  Plus, he thinks I'm hilarious so that helps too :)

Moral of the story:  If a guy doesn't question you wanting to see a children's movie on a first date, marry him.  He probably loves you already.

Xoxo
Riley Writes

Reading is important...

I love to read.  Not just love like I love my husband, love as in I find it as necessary as breathing.  I love to breathe.  Heck, I do it all the time, I even do it in my sleep!  I need to read, I crave reading a good book.  When I go too long without reading a good book, I find myself often uninterested in the things I love to do normally.  Then I just sit there and become slightly depressed and think about all of my favorite hobbies and remember that it's been a while since I have read something that has shook my earth.

That's how much I love to read.

Recently, based on a friend's recommendation, I read The Shack.  I had attempted to start it a few weeks prior but it just sat on my coffee table on my side of the couch because I couldn't quite get into it.  I have that problem sometimes.  She said how wonderful it was, so I started it yesterday.  I read a bit while I was at work, then I read a little more last night before bed.  I read some at the doctor's this morning, then I read in the driveway for a bit when I got home.  I wasn't reading a lot of pages, just what I could squeeze in in between getting ready for work and crap. About one or two pages.  I was consumed with it.  I kept staring at it on my way to work, looking all lonely over in the passenger seat.

Then I got to work and found out that I didn't have to work!  Hooray! So I came back home, planted myself on the couch with my children and engaged myself in a love affair with words.   I cried.  And cried.  And cried some more.  It was so incredibly and beautifully written.  I cried tears of sadness, I cried tears of happiness, I even cried some tears for forgiveness.   I think all in all, it took me less than five hours to read. Then again, I read super fast anyways...but I loved it so much, I couldn't put it down.

By the time Zach got home my face was all swollen and he was worried something bad had happened....that's how much I cried.

I enjoyed it immensely.  It made me ponder my existence and my own relationship with religion.  I'm not a very religious person and I do believe in something, I'm just not sure what exactly.  But, what I do know is that it was so incredibly refreshing to read something that had heart and that gave me some insight and reflection into my own soul.

You need to read this book.  I cannot explain what it's about because it's kind of like trying to explain why your favorite song is your favorite.  Most of the time, you don't have the words, you just say "Just listen."  This is me telling you to "Just read it."

Xoxo
Riley Writes

P.S.  I apologize for the lack of writing as usual.  I will try to be better.  I'm working on an entry where the correct wording eludes me....I will work harder! :)

The Dog Toy Debacle/ Why I'm not allowed at Gamestop.

"Jingle Bells

Hannah smells (all of the time)

Henry chewed a toooy (and a wall, baseboards and a pillow and his bed)

Zachary has new video games

And I just say "Oh boooy"

You're welcome, I'm here all week.

I like to talk about my dogs a lot.  Mostly because I don't have children I birthed from the baby canal.  So instead I talk about those furry things I like sometimes.  $50+.  That's how much I spent on dog toys this week.  Ask me how many toys that bought...(you don't actually have to ask, but I'll tell you and pretend you did.)

Seven.  Seven toys including two foot long rawhides.  This is where it gets fun.  Ask me how many aren't demolished or still squeak.  (Once again, you don't actually have to ask.)

One.  One toy that is still intact, squeaks and has all of its parts.  No more rawhides even though I kept taking them away.  After spending all weekend picking up plastic parts, fuzz (Think heavy bright green snow on Christmas) from the Kong tennis ball that Henry stripped off of it before he massacred it with no shame.  Hannah was just an asshole.  "Hey Henry, I know you're across the room but Imma snarl at you for looking at my rawhide even though you're actually not looking at it and instead you're sleeping.  But I can totally see you checking it out. Bitch, did I say you could snore in the direction of my rawhide?  Imma put my hackles up so you KNOW I mean business. You know what?  I'm just gonna come over and hump your face while you're sleeping to prove my point.  Yeah boy, dontchu look at my rawhide 'gain."

I bought one that I didn't realize looked like a toy that you would find at an adult store....I was unaware until Henry was trying to get that squeaker out, consequently enough, located in the "rear".

I have had multiple compliments/comments saying "Hey Rachele, why isn't that in the bedroom....where it should be?"  or things like  "Did you really 'buy' a toys for the dogs (wink wink)?  Eh?  Ehh?"

I've officially thrown in the white flag.  They ruin everything, not that I mind too much except they've taken to chewing on the baseboards as a form of separation anxiety.  Slather those bastards in Sriracha, problem solved.

___________________________________________________

Apparently this Call Of Duty:  Black Ops thing is pretty serious.  Also, I'm super obnoxious.  Remember Crash Bandicoot?  Lovable little...well, something, who's girlfriend was abducted by the horrible Dr. Cortex and Crash is on a mission to rescue his girlfriend and eat apples! 1996, that's the year it came out.  It was on the original Playstation and I was so excited when my parents brought it home.

R:  So we're here to get the new COD?
Z: Yeah, I prepaid to have one reserved.
R: Can I get a video game?  I want to play!
Z:  Yeah, I would love for you to play video games with me, what one do you want?
R: Crash Bandicoot! (Commence weird looks from hard core gamers)
Z:  What is that?  I've never heard of it.

Then I wander off all around the store and then I'm all "Babe, how come I can't find Crash Bandi-Coot?  That's what I want, I want to rescue his girlfriend and defeat the evil Dr. Ican'trememberhisname.  Ugghhh, but I just want the Bannnndiiii-coooooot game."

Commence more stares from people in line to buy the new COD Black Ops.

Then Zachary is all "You're being ridiculous. People are looking.  Do they even make it anymore?"  and I remember that it came out a long ass time ago and the answer is probably not.  So that was depressing.  However, I decided to browse the Playstation store....lo and behold!  Crash Bandicoot for PS3 for $6!  SIX WHOLE DOLLARS!  It was basically Christmas at the Riley Manor so I begged (asked once because I was going to do it anyways regardless of the answer) if I could download it and he said yes!  Hooray!

I played it for 30 minutes before my eyeballs were burning at how terrible the graphics were.  Remember when you got a Baby Alive and it came with juice you fed it to make it pee but then you would pretend to "check the temperature"  and drink it all yourself?  Remember how "good" it was and how now if you were to drink it, it may taste like muiriatic acid?  Well, that's how it was playing Crash Bandicoot for the first time since 1997.

I haven't touched it since.  It was terrible.  I wasn't even sure what I was looking at most of the time.  I kept getting killed because I couldn't tell what I was looking at, everything kinda blended together....however, Hannah likes to watch what's going on tv  and was entranced by the movement on the big screen in front of her.  Naturally, I made the character run back and forth so I could watch Hannah chase him and growl at the tv. That was probably the highlight of my game playing experience.

That's it for this installment of Riley Writes.  I apologize once again for the lagging in writing.  I'm fully aware I'm behind.  I will try to be better.

Xoxo
That Crazy Riley Woman

The Great Debate

Ladies and gentlemen, we are a nation divided, a house split in two, a fruit basket with an apple and an orange (can I get an Amen? Amen!!!), lovers torn between themselves!  This terrible affliction to plague our loving home.  We are at a crossroad and it's looking grim.  The mister and myself rarely ever disagree.  We both have the same mentality as far as a lot of things go.   We don't agree on politics but this isn't where this is going.  This has taken a much darker road than I had assumed it would.  If you can't take it, avert your eyes, it's about to get ugly.






Red Vines versus Twizzlers.




It all happened while we were innocently perusing the BX last week.  As I strolled through the candy aisle, the beautiful blue box caught my eye.  I grabbed it and then thought to myself "You know, I should get the big bag because I have a a gut feeling that I may have a hard time sharing."  Miraculously, the large bag ended up in our little shopping basket.  I don't know how it happened.  It was like magic or something.

"What are these things?  Are they like Twizzlers?"

I stared dumbfounded, at the man I thought I knew, the man I love.  "What did you just say?  How dare you take the Red Vines name and smear it with the Twizzle-word!  How can we live under the same roof?  I thought I knew you!  I loved you!"

"Rachele, I think you're being a tad over dramatic....it's just candy."

"It's just candy?  Just candy you say?!  How dare you say that about the father of all licorice!  Give me the bag right now.  You're infecting it with your Twizzler hands.  Can I please have the bag?  I won't eat any until we have dinner maybe."

"Babe. I know you, you're going to eat a bunch of them and spoil your dinner."

"Who are you, my father?  I want the bag, I promise I won't eat any.  Besides, I'm an adult and I can make my own goddamn decisions, cry baby pee pants."

"Oh, you're an adult huh?  Here, have your Twizzlers.  I don't care."

"Haha, fooled you.  I'm going to open them and eat five. Here, have one.  Your life is about to change, angels will sing to you from the skies and unicorns will protect your dreams!"

I gave him a bite and anxiously awaited the moment that would forever alter our destiny as man and wife (not really alter it, just dramatic effects).

"Meh, I still like Twizzlers better.  I've seen you eat three of those since we've been in the car.  Are you even going to be hungry for dinner?"

"My stomach may or may not hurt but I think it's because I'm sensitive to gluten."

"Or it could be the fact that you just ate your fourth Twizzler."

"STOP CALLING THEM TWIZZLERS!  AND THEY'RE NOT A GLUTEN FREE CANDY, OKAY?"


Then last night we were all sitting at dinner and he was admiring the package of Red Vines as it laid almost empty on the table.  I told him that Red Vines is one of the largest and most popular brands of licorice, it's been around for over 90 years and it's the best that will EVER be.

"It looks like some sort of bad off brand."

Then we got on the Google Box Machine and saw something I cannot unsee.  I regret to inform you that Twizzlers has been around longer than Red Vines.  It doesn't change the fact that I love Red Vines.

Red Vines, I love you and I will continue to be with you forever.  If you could make your candy gluten free though, that would be pretty cool though.  Then I could eat 8 instead of 4 and not feel sick.

What's your opinion?

Xoxo
Riley Writes

Hannah is an *Expletive* sometimes

Things are finally coming together at work.  The bar is slowly getting set up, new bartenders have been hired.  the food is without flaw and I have convinced two servers to refer to me as "Big Poppa".  I'm going to go ahead and chalk that up to a win.  

With a set schedule now...you are going to hear more posts about Crossfit, trying to be gluten free (because apparently when you have thyroid problems, it can cause gluten sensitivities which I why I haven't made carbonara in about 4 months) and more post about my asshole fur children who are going through separation anxieties.  In my blog before the last one I wrote, I mentioned driving by the Crossfit gym I like to go to.  Well, I finally decided I was going to start getting back into a routine come hell or high water.  I didn't lose as much progress as I figured I did but I wasn't quite up to par as the last time we went.  It felt great though.  I nailed my WOD and have been looking at Crossfit pins on Pinterest (obsessed much?).  I'm also Stumbling Upon pictures of tattoos because I am finally getting my Merry Christmas half sleeve and I'm trying to make some decisions.  Any time I see any pictures of females I'm all like "Oh wow, she's super skinny but I bet she can't lift like I can,"  or "She has got NO muscle definition AT ALL."

I know, I'm seriously ridiculous.

Do you know who's even more ridiculous than I am?  My asshole dogs, that's who.  In this past week, Hannah has peed in the bed while we were snuggling, Henry has chewed up two of the walls and they BOTH  decided it was okay that while Zach and I were trying to take a nap on the couch,  that they should be able to be up on the couch as well.

"Hey mom, I noticed you covered your face up with the blanket to abstain from getting kisses but I see you left your ear out.  Let me remind you just how long and slobbery my tongue is by letting me stick it in your ear and surprise you! "  "Arghfgh"  "Mom, are you surprised?!  Do you love me?"

I allowed Hannah and Henry to snuggle in bed with me the other night.  I didn't get home super late but working in the hot weather really takes it out of you.  I was all "Okay puppies, come snuggle with mommy!"  They took no time into beating me to the bedroom and claiming their retrospective spots.  Hannah is the snuggler so she curled up in my arms all cute while Henry was laying across my legs.  It wasn't long before Hannah was trying to make herself even more comfortable by turning around in circles.  Then I noticed her sitting. She normally doesn't sit on the bed...she's either standing or laying down. Plus she was sitting a bit lower than her normal sitting stance.  I notice these things because I'm all motherly like that.  That's when I went all ghetto and said "Aw Hell naw bitch, you better not be pissing on my mother lovin bed!"  

"You little *expletive*!  Yeah you *expletive*-ing expletive.  You pissed on my bed you little *fatherless child*.  Yeah you better run you *expletive*-ing reference of male genitalia.  Damn it you little *expletive* sucking *expletive*!"

Then my wonderful husband said to whomever he was playing his new Halo game with "I think my youngest daughter is in trouble."

"Damn right she's in trouble.  The little *expletive*-ing *expletive* pissed on our bed."  - I yelled all of this as I chased that little jerk around the house, waving my arms in a fit of anger.

She booked it into her kennel and didn't even whine about not having a bed in there...which I had to remove because BOTH Hannah and Henry have chewed the zippers off of their bed and have strewn gorilla fuzz all over our house.  This is not the first instance.  I clean up gorilla fuzz on a regular basis.  It looks like someone shaved a dozen orangutans and distributed the clippings all around our carpet.  If you have dogs, I'm sure you understand completely.

Well, that's all for this edition of Riley Writes.  Hopefully you enjoyed your brief little stay here.

Xoxo,
Riley Writes

*Input your own profanity strewn language.  Or use your imagination.  Either one.

Well, this is sure to ruffle some feathers...

With the election that just passed, there are a lot of angry people.  A LOT.  I know this because it's all over Facebook.  This post isn't really about who won or lost, it's about being a good human being.  With the results being in, I noticed an influx of negative and racist comments on my social networking feed.  Comments from good friends, acquaintances and family members that were less than appealing and left me with a sour taste in my mouth.

I don't care who you voted for.  What I care about is that you make an educated decision based on your own research, not what the media tells you.  To be perfectly frank, I didn't care for either candidate.  To quote my favorite TV show "Elections are always between a giant douche and a turd sandwich."

Now that that's out of the way, I'd like to pose a question.  When I was in school, grade school, middle and high school, it was considered bullying to use racial slurs, discriminate against someone because of their religion and other things of that nature.  So what gives anyone the right to do so, on a social network in front of our impressionable future?  1st amendment, yes.  But what about being a decent person and having moral values?  What about trying to be respectful and lead our younger generation by good examples?

You're telling me it's okay to call people out on age, weight, skin color, ethnicity, religion and anything else that people can poke fun at?  You betcha!  We reap what we sow and if we keep allowing such hatred to flow from our lips, you can be damned sure our next generation will be equally if not more hateful and uncaring.  Then we will scratch our heads and blame everyone else while we're the real problem.

My momma would have beat my behind black and blue if I would have said some of the things I saw on my Facebook.  The worst would be the disappointment though.  My mother would be extremely disappointed in me that I would resort name calling and making slurs of sorts to get my point/opinion across.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.  I'm not saying you can't have it.  What I'm saying is you sound more intelligent when you're making valid points instead of using religious and racial epithets.  You are more likely to get others to at least ponder your point of view if you don't litter it with a stream of profanities or try to force it down their throats.

Stepping off the soap box.
Riley Writes

Why you gotta make me cry?

In true Riley Writes fashion, I am on the other side of this computer, my eyes welled up in tears and a glass of champagne by my side.  Once again, I'm cooking.  Those damn onions get me every single time.  They're actually cooking at the moment but the whatever it is that makes you want to wear a ski mask is lingering in the kitchen and wafting out to the living room where I hear my husband sniffling because his eyes are watering as well.  What is it about onions?

Hi, my name is Rachele and I'm an onion hoarder.

It sounds strange but hear me out.   I never seem to use a whole onion.  I have no earthly idea why!  So since I never use a whole one, I open up the fridge and place it where the eggs are supposed to go.  That is where onions and cheese go to die.  I put them there (I think it's where you put the butter, in the door), I forget and inevitably cut a new onion up the next time I cook.  As I pulled out junk to make dinner (I haven't been cooking too often and I'll get to that).  I pulled out a glorious onion to add to my stuffed bell pepper (who's recipe I needed to look up on my own blog because I'm ridiculous) and as I went to put the onion in the fridge, I saw the onion graveyard.  Maybe that's what brings the tears to my eyes.  I must have close to 5 half onions in the refrigerator.  Holy crap.  Am I ever going to use them, you ask?  Nope.  Probably not.

Today in my quest to get qualified to actually work (because apparently you have to do that to bartend in Guam), I ended up driving by the Crossfit gym Zach and I were going to before I felt sickly and before I started working.  I missed it terribly and part of me wanted to blow off what I was doing and go get some rounds of deadlifts in.  I did not, however I did make a promise to myself that AS SOON as I stop working 6 days a week, I'm going to go back to the gym.  Balancing a house, a job and two "kids"  isn't exactly easy.  Mad props to single moms who do it and have actual kids, instead of ones that think it's okay to eat my under-roos for dessert.  Thankfully I have my pretty legit husband who helps a sister out!

Also, I'm missing a toe nail....again.  For those of you unaware, I had a fake toe nail put on for my wedding.  Long story short, I had a fake toe nail.  It was beautiful and eventually my nail grew back.  A couple weeks ago, in a flurry of trying to get out of the door the fastest, Hannah forced her whole body through the door and in turn, it combed over my foot, tearing at my delicate skin and lifting up one of my nails.  Luckily for me, that pretty legit husband is in the medical field and hooked a sister up.  It was bleeding and he took care of it, cleaned it out, bandaged me up and snuggled my face because I was crying.  Three weeks later, my nail finally comes loose.  Gross right?  You're welcome for sharing.  I probably won't get a fake one put on this time because I'm not getting married nor do I care....I just think it's rather comical to tell people I have a prosthetic nail.

So that's about it in this Riley Writes wrap up.
Xoxo
Riley Writes

Why shouldn't you be happy?

Once upon a time ago, I was dating a man who's father was an extremely prominent (in the legal system) in a very large city.  I won't name names for anonymity reasons.  Anyways, this guy brought his father into the bar I worked at one night so his dad could "finally meet the girl he'd heard so much about."  I'll never forget the conversation we had.

"So Rachele, what do you plan on doing with the rest of your life?  I know you don't plan on working at a bar forever.  You will never get far if that's what you want to do."

"I have no idea.  I like working at a bar, it makes me happy.  I get to meet new people all of the time, mostly everyone is happy when they drink and I get to hear all sorts of live and up and coming bands.  I don't see what's so bad about it and it makes me happy for the time being.  If I'm happy, why do I need to change what I'm doing?"

"Well happiness won't put a roof over your head or pay for your retirement.  How do you expect to make a living, being happy?"

I was mortified that he would say such a thing to someone he just met.  I stood my ground and knew I wasn't born with a silver spoon stuck up my ass.  I worked as hard as the next guy and deserved just as much as he did.  The fact of the matter is that while I may not have been able to vacation all over the world or go to the "Catalina Ducking Wine Mixer" but I was raised with a strong work ethic, good morals and an appreciation for the small things.

A few weeks ago, I asked my mother if her expectations of me were close to what she thought they were.  She said that she always knew I was going to do what makes me happy and to (expletive for intercourse) the rest.    

She isn't wrong (she hardly ever is, she's a mom).  I may not have the biggest goals, be extremely ambitious or want to takeover the world but what I am counts for 129845x that.  I'm happy.  I go to bed knowing that I'm a good person, use common sense and try to treat people as I want to be treated because I was raised that way.

That same guy once told me "I own a couple houses, a boat, a motorcycle, a car and I do (won't say for anonymity purposes). I'm going back to school for my masters in (I forget because it was in something that has a long word).  Why wouldn't you want to date a guy like me?"  I responded with "Well I hope all that keeps you warm at night because with an attitude like that, you're going to be single for the rest of your life."

That was just a snippet of the many arguments we had over the same thing.  I may not have been raised with a silver spoon in my mouth (it may have been a spork for all I know), but I was most definitely raised to value things like love, hard work, family, friends and respect.  After all, aren't those the foundations for prosperity?

Xoxo,
Riley Writes

Why Don't People Come With A Warning Label?

Well now, I made it to over 1,000 views!  Woohoo!  Thank you.  Except no one sent me their address so I take it no one wanted anything cool from Guam?  It's okay, your loss.  Not my fault that you didn't want a coconut postcard sent to your home address.  Don't be all whining because you think I don't care,  I do care, this is tough love.

In today's world, you have to be careful of the things you consume, have around you or come into contact with.  It's unfortunate but everything affects your health in one way or another.  Good or bad.  It can affect your body, your psyche and your overall humanity.  I believe the same goes for people.  There are all sorts of people in our day to day life.  There are amazing people that always have inspiring things to say, help you along your journey and teach you many new things.  On the flip side of the coin, there are people who are toxic, poisoning your well of happiness and good thoughts.  They bring you down to their level and make it so you are equally as depressed and toxic as they are.  They key is spotting them, which isn't always easy.

And this is why people should come with a warning label.

They don't though.  This is where you need to be able to learn the signs of having a toxic person in your life.  I used to have tons of them and had no idea how to filter them out.  I would spend 15 minutes with these people, my heart would be heavy and my emotional batteries drained.  I felt like I could sleep for days because I was riddled with other people's constant problems and issues.  I would make these issues my own and try to fix everyone but it just became too much.

After a breakdown of epic proportions after hearing a friend's mother had been diagnosed with a severe and aggressive form of cancer, I decided it was time to seek professional help.  I thought that there were a lot of emotions dealing with things of that nature that I hadn't yet dealt with.  I felt like my whole life was collapsing and I wouldn't be happy until I worked through my past.

Turns out, it wasn't so much my past but my present that needed to be worked on.  I took the initiative, looked up a counselor and the first session, she said a few simple words that have forever altered my life.

"Maybe your breakdown is actually a breakthrough."

Simple concept right?  It just took a complete stranger to bring it to my attention.  After years of being the friend/girlfriend/co-worker who undertook everyone's misfortunes, I had accumulated a decent amount of these toxic people in my daily life and I was tired.  Tired of being the one that people would call in the middle of the night knowing full well that the action wouldn't be reciprocated.  I was emotionally drained, naive and exhausted.

Every week after seeing my counselor, I would leave sobbing and call my mother to discuss what I had learned.  I was purging all that bad juju from my life and even though my face was ugly from crying, I always felt like the concrete had been lifted from my shoulders.  I started looking at things in a new light.  I knew I had to make some changes and I had to make them fast because obviously what I was doing hadn't been working.  Then a certain someone showed up at the bar I worked at, all in his party shirt, ordering my favorite beer and made me all googly eyed and mushy.  I had no qualms in telling him "Hey, I'm a nutcase and I see a counselor once a week.  Are you okay with this because if you're not, you probably shouldn't hang around me because I'm crazy.  No, seriously.  I talk to myself and sometimes I answer."

He was okay with it and pretty soon, he was texting me after my appointments, asking how I was feeling, if I was okay and if I felt up to going on a date.   (Ahem, apparently he likes the crazies because he married me.)  I don't see the counselor anymore and I have cleansed the majority of those toxic people out.  Sometimes I forget what it's like to be around draining and toxic people....then one of them pops out of the wood works and is all "Oh hey, did you forget about being emotionally drained? Let me remind you and make you feel like shit because my life sucks."

Then I remember what it's like.  Then I also remember the super awesome support system I have in place to help me protect my sanity, to remind me that I don't have to have these types of people in my life and to also make it known that it's a privilege to have me as a sidekick and not an entitlement because I used to be there.  Any kind of relationship is a two way street.  There has to be give and take.  If someone is in your life that only likes the one way street, put that junk out in the street for trash day.  You're worth more than that.

Xoxo
Riley Writes.

P.S  One of my most favorite things to remember and it always gets me by when these toxic people come a' knockin' on my door....their life sucks because of the choices that they made....not the ones you made.  Don't let them make you feel bad.

Boonie Stomping/ Reasons why I like it indoors.

Today was quite the adventure!  My wonderful husband, two pups, our favorite couple, their dog and I went on a hike.  It was the first time for our little family and like all virgins, I wasn't sure what to expect.  Luckily for us, we were able to meet up with our friends at the store who said "Make sure to bring some gloves, you're gonna need em'."  If that wasn't a terrifying thought, the only other two things I could concentrate on were "Hannah for the love of God, behave yourself and do not jump out of the truck,"  and "What in the ever loving big man in the sky am I going to do if I run into a tree snake?  I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry."

I was a little hesitant to let Hannah the asshole escape artist (she managed to unhook herself from the carabiners that kept her in the back of the truck and almost jump our at 40 mph) run around without her leash on but she proved to be the model citizen.  She stuck by us and whenever she ran ahead, she made sure to wait and look back at us until we got close, then took off again.  All Henry was concerned with was hanging out and keeping up with his buddy Helo the Husky.  I was impressed with how well behaved they were.  Not that I didn't think they were well behaved, because they're my kids and I like them.  I like them more when they're quiet and listening though.

We walked through a grass clearing where there were hundreds of dragon flies just fluttering around enjoying the scenery.  We walked through red mud and the pups couldn't have been more excited.  Henry, Hannah and I are rather spoiled, we don't spend too much time outside because it's so damn hot all of the time.  None of us are used to the weather and since they have been adopted and no longer have to sleep in a hard cement kennel in the heat, they don't really go outside unless it's to the dog park or to do their business. The first puddle we came across, Henry laid down and didn't want to budge.  That was just in the first 15 minutes.  After we made it through the "treacherous terrain"  (read: the easy stuff), we had to walk through 1/4-1/2 mile in razor grass.  This is where our gloves came in!  Hannah and Henry were in heaven!  Running around, acting like monkeys.  I wish I could say the same for us.  Lots of scratches on bare skin but the gloves made it easier to push it aside without tearing our precious skin.

The hike to the river itself was approximately 2.4 miles.  The terrain varied vastly but it was enjoyable. We had to use a rope to repel down to the actual river itself but it was worth it.  I was a little scared for the furry ones but they didn't seem to mind.  We stopped at a few swimming holes that were at most up to our necks. Supposedly there was an awesome swimming hole down a quarter of a mile and then up stream where the two rivers converged.  We took the pups upstream while the boys hid our backpacks.  Zach brought his new camera so we could take some awesome pictures but there was a small SD card malfunction for the first half of the hike.

We hiked up several waterfalls to the big kahuna where all of us took turns swinging off the rope swing and the dogs (mainly Hannah who found out she LOVES to jump off the rocks and into the water) swam and swam.  Most of the time swimming for me was spent lifting heavy puppies up.  They would jump in and enjoy the jump and immediately turn into "OH MY GOD MOM I CAAAAAN'T TOUUUUUCH, I CAN'T TOUCH! PLEASE SAVE ME!  Wait...I can kinda touch here.  I think I'll be okaaaa...OH GOD I CAN'T TOUCH AGAIN!!!!  MOM I'M DROWNING!!!!  Wait, I see those rocks.  I can touch tou...OH SWEET BABY JESUS I CAN'T TOUCH, REPEAT, CAN'T TOUCH THE BOTTOM!!!!"

Then they would both clobber me at the same time where I couldn't touch and I have scratches all over my body to prove it.  And cuts on my shins from the razor grass.  And a few scrapes from falling here and there because let's face it, I'm like a bull in a China shop.  Nothing dainty about me.  

I found the hike back less tolerable that the hike to.  I felt like I was going to keel over and die.  At one point  while climbing back up the ravine, I lost my footing and had it not been for the rope and the gloves, I would have fallen down.  Zach said "Babe, use that upper body strength!  You haven't been doing pull-ups for nothing."  If you read my previous post, you'll know that we haven't been to the gym as much lately and the only heavy lifting I do trying to decide how many champagne bottles I can hold without dropping them and making a fool of myself.

All in all, we did about 6 miles round trip, including the hike up the waterfalls to the final visit.  I have decided that I may need to start doing shorter hikes to get me to work up to these "long" ones.  Poor Hannah was so tuckered, she found a small ledge on the way back and tried to sleep there.  Henry was nowhere to be seen hanging out with Helo the whole time.  Hannah would wait for me to make sure I was still around and then run like the wind to catch up with the boys.  They are currently all dirty and snuggled in their beds, they're too tired to take a bath :)  I also saw my very first brown tree snake!  Luckily for me, it was dead and on the last quarter mile of the hike.  I would have cried if it had been alive.    Enjoy some pictures and more laughs at my expense.

Xoxo
Riley Writes

Just call me Snaggletooth Tiger

As I was laying in bed unable to sleep, I caught myself thinking about braces.  For the most part, my teeth are pretty straight and even though I have put them through hell and back, they are all still in my face and in relatively good condition.

Except for my snaggletooth.

Spell check is telling me that snaggletooth isn't spelled correctly but maybe when it's one word instead of two, it's more offensive?  I don't know.  Anyways, you're probably thinking "But Rachele, I have never noticed your snaggletooth?"  Right.  Well, neither do I until I do a lot of smiling, even though I know it's there.

Maybe it isn't even a real snaggletooth but calling it that makes me laugh so I will proceed.

You know what it looks like when a dog get's their lip flipped up and doesn't notice?  They just sit there, smiling and oblivious.  Then you start laughing hysterically because they don't have a care in the world.   Not saying it's happened to me but....okay, it's happened.  When I smile a lot, my teeth get dry and then my lip gets caught on my tooth.  It's embarrassing but it's funny too.  I normally catch it before (I think) anyone notices but then it sends me into a fit of giggles and it inevitably happens again. It isn't even uncomfortable.  I, like a dog, very rarely notice.   I look so ridiculous but I think that I wouldn't get braces because then I would miss telling people about what happens when I smile a lot (which is almost all of the time).

I'm one of those "Embrace Your Flaws" kinda gal.  I have a lot of them but they make me my own special person and I'm pretty okay with that.  Hell, it makes me like myself even more because I know it makes me different and I love to be different.

What's your favorite flaw?

Xoxo
Riley Writes

The not so paleo and lazy Riley (Ahem, me)

Simultaneously writing two blog posts, attempting to clean the house and Facebooking?  Call me Capt. Multitasker.  Okay, don't call me that because it isn't true.  Except I am doing all of the above....kind of.  Whatever.  I think it would make it all tolerable if I filled that fishbowl I call a wine glass with champagne however, I believe it's a little early for that.  Depending on what part of the world you're in.

There is a lot going on in my kitchen at the moment.  Because in the time it took me to write that first paragraph and start two other blog post drafts on top of the two already going....I managed to finish the dishes and start making some sweet potato chips (recipe at the bottom if you read that far).  If you haven't noticed recently, I haven't really blogged about food or Crossfit.  Well (insert sad face), that's because we haven't been going and haven't been eating paleo.  "*Gasp!*  You what?!?  But that's all you talk about!  How could you?"

Well, let me explain.  This past month and a half, I have been feeling severely under the weather.  I get headaches a lot and have been feeling extremely worn down to the point it was taking me two-three days to recover from a semi difficult workout.  It was worse than usual and it was getting to the point I couldn't handle it.  I would come home exhausted and immediately get a headache.  The headache would last for two to three days so naturally, I had no desire to go back to the gym or make dinner so we would eat out a lot.  Especially since Zach wasn't getting home til late either.  Being tired and having headaches is something that I'm not a stranger to so I didn't think much of it.  It's been going on since high school.  I went to the doctors for girly crap and he asked if there was anything else I needed.  I mentioned that since thyroid issues run in my family (all the women on my mother's side) and I wouldn't mind being checked out for that if I could.

Long story short, does anyone have a can opener because I need a can of worms opened?

Then I came down with a headache that lasted five days, semi ruining the fun weekend we had ahead of us.  It didn't completely ruin it because I powered through but let me tell you what....it was horrible.  I took enough pills to overdose a small child and nothing worked.  Hot bath, heating pad, cold pack, sleep, lots of water, Tylenol, Advil, Tylenol PM,  Ibuprofen, Motrin, Bayer Migraine....you name it, nothing worked.  At best, the pain subsided to a dull ache instead of feeling like the side of my face was in a vice grip being tightened by the second.

When the doctor called to confirm what I had already known for a while (my thyroid is all jacked up) so they put me on thyroid medication, I told him about my headaches and that I needed to get in as soon as possible.  Met with the doctor and he suspected migraines even though the headaches were nothing like the migraines I used to get (think being completely keeled over in pain and avoiding bright lights like a vampire because the sunlight hurts your eyeballs and you can't keep food or water down).  He prescribed me a daily pill to help out with the migraines and a headache pill just in case I come down with a doozy.  He said if they were in fact migraines, I shouldn't be having them taking these pills but if they were regular headaches, these pills would do nothing.  I guess he knows what he's talking about.

I am happy to report that I don't always need a nap in the middle of the day and I haven't had a headache (apparent migraine) since.  I still like to take naps though.  The thyroid medicine says it takes a few weeks for it to actually take effect.  Zach says he's married to a different person...but a good person, one that he likes because she smiles a lot.  Not the person he's married to when it's that time of the month....he doesn't like her all that much.

With this fabulous new news, I now have the energy to do crap!  Like spend a day cooking in the kitchen.  So today, because the commissary finally had sweet potatoes, I am making sweet potato chips because they are delicious and paleo.  Prepare yo'selves for an influx of recipes starting with this one!

Sweet Potato Chips

What you will need:

Sweet Potatoes

Cinnamon

Coconut or Olive Oil

Peel those awkward veggies if you so choose. 

Slice those biatches up to desired thickness.

Preheat oven to 250-375.  I prefer 250 but it takes longer.  Who cares?  I don't have a job!

Add oil and cinnamon to slices. Throw that junk in a bowl and toss to coat.

Lay it out on a cookie sheet like a boss! 

Put that crap in the oven and do other stuff because you're a mofo-in multi-tasker.

Turn them over when they start to brown, pull them out when they're crispy.

You. Are. Welcome.

Xoxo

Riley Writes

A special thanks and some updates

So I started a post like two weeks ago thanking y'all for almost a thousand page views.  Today....I'm at zero.  Not sure how that happened so here's my dilemma, do I thank you or pretend this never happened?

I believe I would like to thank anyone and everyone who has read this blog at any given point in time even though I more than likely force fed it to you via Facebook.  It means a lot to me that someone would take time to read what I write and I appreciate it. I was going to do some sort of giveaway thing like other people do on their blogs for a certain amount of followers/views buuut I think I weaseled my way out of that one.

Sincerely, I mean it.  Thank you.  I love to write and it gives me warm fuzzies to know that some one likes to read it.  It gives me motive to write more and work towards my ultimate goal of writing a book.  I appreciate you!

Now onto the good stuff!  I know it's been forever since I've actually posted something and it's been for a good reason.  I gave up blogging for Lent.  Maybe that isn't exactly true because I'm not Catholic.  Also, it isn't Lent.  We have been super ridiculously busy.  Every weekend for the past few weeks and even during the week, we have had stuff going on and let me tell you what, when I wasn't showing the water park my lady lumps or having a nasty headache, I was in bed sleeping.

This weekend it was the Navy Ball, last weekend it was the water park and I forget what else because I'm like a goldfish with a small attention span.  Oh yeah, it was my friend's birthday!  We hung out downtown at a fancy little bar I'm in love with where someone recognized my Chive shirt!  That Monday, the clinic that Zach works at paid for all of us to go to the water park and have a nice lunch.  I would be the one to flash Zach's coworkers, get a bloody nose from face planting the water so hard I was disoriented and  get so much water up every orifice I couldn't tell if I was coming or going.  I was sure we were going to have to remove my bikini bottoms from my rear with some sort of surgical procedure because they were jammed up there in no man's land so far I thought if I coughed....I may be able to procure them through my mouth.  That would have been one hell of a parlor trick.  But seriously?  Who does that?  Who gets injured multiple times at a water park?  I have the worst luck when it comes to that kind of thing.  It never fails.  I can think of at least 7 instances where something bad happened to me while enjoying parks of the water persuasion.

The Navy Ball was grand!  We got a hotel room on the beach in a hotel that was nice. Upon arrival, we were greeted by the smell of Chinese food and old people.  Which was extremely pleasant if you like Chinese food and geriatric homes.  Our room was nice, needing to be updated and the light switches were a little difficult to figure out.  Light switches everywhere turning on random lights and appliances! The view was pretty breathtaking which was to be expected....what was not expected was the brown smears next to the bed.  It looked like poo.  Or the construction that was taking place at 7 a.m both mornings which of course, Zach slept through.  I believe next time, we'll spring for the Hilton.

It was however, wonderful to hang out with my husband without any interruptions.  We went on a date at the fancy TGI Fridays and shared some cocktails then watched the waves crash over the beach and lightening light up the sky at The Beach Bar.  Of course while sharing more cocktails because we didn't have to drive.  It was great...even the hour and a half we spent talking about how much we missed our dear furry assholes.  Wait...what?  Don't be gross, I was talking about our dogs.

Anyways, so I'm sure this week I will have more antics to report, especially since my new thyroid medicine and beta blockers are working.  Haven't had a headache and I have noticed an increase albeit small, an increase none the less, in energy.  Happy camper!  :)

Xoxo
Riley Writes

Just some links and some stories, my favorite things!

Since this is my blog and it's dedicated to sharing my wins, fails, weirdness, oddities and endearing qualities for all to know, I have decided to share a few of my all time favorite things.

The inspiration for this post today was brought upon by finally receiving my Post Secret and Other People's Love Letters books!  Ever since I was a young girl, I have always been curious in other peoples' stories.  I often wonder what makes them tick or why they do certain things.  When I meet someone, I often am fascinated by what their lives were like, are like and what secrets they hold because it shapes them in one way or another. I don't ask because that's impolite but I consider myself the luckiest person in the world if someone decides to share.  Part of sharing secrets is the bond and trust you develop with one another.  But be wary with whom you share with....not everyone sees these as priceless mementos and tokens of a relationship.

I don't remember when I first discovered Post Secret but I have been obsessed ever since.  It started out as an art project.  A man by the name of Frank Warren handed out blank post cards with simple instructions to creatively share a secret with a return address to his personal place of residence.  It took off and every since Sunday he posts a small collection of secrets that were sent into him.  Every Saturday night (meaning the early hours of 4-6 a.m Sunday morning) when I would come home from work, it didn't matter how utterly exhausted I was, I would check Post Secret Sunday.  I knew it would be there in the mornings but I had a compulsion to check because it brought me so much joy. The secrets could be from any one of us.  Your neighbor, your mother....even your significant other and you wouldn't even know. That's the beauty of them.  It makes you feel less alone and unites us in the fact that we all have our secrets.  

Dear Old Love by Andy Selsberg came to me as a recommendation from Amazon.  It was only 5 or 6 bucks and it had high ratings so I decided to give it a go.  I didn't realize it would change the way I have viewed every relationship I have ever had.  Everyone has that one thing they would like to say to someone they used to love.  After reading the book, I felt like weight was lifted off of my shoulders.  I knew I wasn't alone in feeling saddened by the loss of my relationship.  It made me feel better in knowing that someone else out there was feeling like it wasn't over because certain things were left unsaid.  I have never personally submitted to Dear Old Love but if I did...I would say  "I detest everything you are, everything about you. You're a selfish asshole and I hope you break your arm in a few different places.  But thank you for treating me like shit because I now know what it's like to be loved and appreciated by a real man."  

Back when in my administrative days (before I realized I was better at telling people to eff off than being at beck and call), I was fortunate enough to finish my workload within the first 2-3 hours of work on most days.  That's a lot of hours with not enough fingers to count, left for various things..  That left me with ample time to scour the ends of the interwebs and stumble upon my oldest and favorite gem Found Magazine.  Maybe this is where the obsession started.  Found Magazine is a plethora of items found in various places.  Love notes, photos, grocery lists and everything else on this site was once previously loved, cared for, purposely tossed aside, accidentally forgotten or just plain ignored and then found by some unsuspecting person. So many intriguing things, I would read until I felt my eyes were bleeding.  I even found a book list that I was so curious about, I printed it and set out to read every book on the list.  I read most of them and still have the list around somewhere.  I can't bring myself to throw it away because it's unfinished and even when it is finished, will I want to throw it out?  It's odd that such a small thing made such a profound impact on my life.  

I have been nose deep in Post Secret all night so I haven't read Other People's Love Letters.  It's like Christmas, knowing that I have all day tomorrow during this upcoming storm to soak it all in.  

It's so astonishing that seemingly simple ideas have established a revolution.  Then again, that's how most revolutions start, don't they?  The men, women and people who had the courage to submit to the aforementioned websites and books have brought people from all over the world, together by encouraging them to share bits and pieces of their lives.  It proves that there is someone out there, who understands and makes you realize that you are not alone.  It's an invisible support system for you to lean on and learn from.  

I can only dream of one day starting such a revolution that helps millions....even if it's a small gesture as asking for a secret or paying someone a compliment.

That's all.
Riley Writes

You cook? Who are you trying to fool here?

I've been doing "a lot" lately.  That's only kind of true which is why it's in quotations.  Think of them as finger quotes with a side of eye winking in your general direction.  That's why I haven't written much lately. Whatever, I don't have to answer to you. ;)

Today I feel like sharing a recipe.  A while back ago, I was looking for a delicious paleo meat loaf recipe and I found one that was kind of odd....it's called the Paleo Protein Meatloaf.  It has hard boiled eggs in the middle and smothered in bacon.  I did my own little variation and added bell peppers, celery, onions and other random items because that's they way I like to do things.  I digress.  Lately, I have been wanting to try stuffed bell peppers and tonight, I did just that.  It's rocking my socks and it isn't even out of the oven yet.  The reason I bring up the Paleo Protein Meatloaf is because I loved the hard boiled egg in the center....it was the most delicious meat loaf I have ever made that is actually pretty healthy for you.

I "Pinterested" (I'm turning that into a word like 'googled') different recipes to see what I should do with the peppers and what to bake them at.  Basically it's whatever you want at 325-375 for 15 to 30 minutes depending on if your precooked your meat (which I suggest).  It's a universal recipe...I'm leaving it opened ended.  If I can make it and make it edible, so can you!

I present Paleo Stuffed Bell Peppers With Other Stuff Too!

You will need:
Bell peppers - I used green for the stuffed bell peppers and diced up red ones for the meat mixture.  I also cut my peppers in half instead of cutting the tops off.  Personal preference.
Onions - However many you like, I'm not the boss of you....but I'm not going to be kissing you later so be mindful of that if you're looking for tonsil hockey after dinner.
Celery - One stalk should be good....minced or chopped.
Ground beef - One pound for 3 people.  I used beef.
Bacon - As many slices as you would like.
Hard boiled eggs - I used a half an egg per bell pepper.
Sriracha - Not too much....maybe a tablespoon.  If you've never had it before and are allergic to awesomeness....you should probably not put it in dinner because it will burn your face off.  Click on it and visit the link.  You won't regret it.  Oh, I don't think it's paleo....but I also don't think you care.
Garlic - I used three cloves because I will not be playing tonsil hockey after dinner more than likely.
Garlic Salt - I just like that crap.
Johnny's Seasoning - You probably don't have it if you aren't from the Pacific Northwest or whatever....and you're missing out but it isn't vital.  Just use salt and pepper.

Directions:

• Preheat oven to whatever you want. 325-375
• Cut up all your crap and put it in a bowl.  I meant the veggies....
• Brown ground meat of your choice.  Add Johnny's/Salt & Pepper and Garlic Salt
• Slice/cut the tops off the bell peppers and remove seeds and junk.  Blanche peppers.  That means boil them for two minutes then transfer them to ice water or what have you.
• Did you boil the eggs?  Remove the shell, cut in half and place in bell pepper.
• Drain meat, mix with veggies and Sriracha if you haven't already and spoon it into the peppers.
• Cover with as much bacon as your little heart desires.  Wrap it all the way around or lay it on top.  
• Put your amazing dinner in the oven and cook it til you're heart is content and the bacon is brown.  
• Pour yourself a glass of champagne because you just picked up new wine glasses....or if you didn't then don't.
• Pull it out whenever and tell you're spouse/significant other/ best friend how awesome you are in the kitchen and that you're pretty proud you didn't have an exact recipe and you didn't muck it up. 

You. Are. Welcome.

Xoxo

Riley Writes

Update:  I highly suggest putting a raw egg and some ground flax meal to keep the meat together.  Other than that, it was as delicious as I thought it was going to be.

A tutorial? Hooray!

Hello ladies and gents,

Today I have decided after a lengthy stay in the kitchen this evening, I may start doing tutorials depending on this one's rating.

Tonight's tutorial is:

"How to not suck in the kitchen in Ten Steps".

Step One:  Find recipe that you think you can make.

Step Two:  Realize you don't have all of the ingredients but make it anyways because you're just that awesome.

Step Three: Start running the water for the dishes you're going* to do while cooking dinner. (* Not really)

Step Four:  Turn on some good music on Pandora and turn the TV on and press mute because you can't hear your music over the dogs barking at their reflections in your TV.

Step Five:  Add more random shit to your recipe because you know it's not going to turn out.  Like fruit....fruit goes with chicken sometimes.  Like tonight.

Step Five 1/2:  Decide to blog about how awesome you are in the kitchen.  

Italics means sarcasm.

Step Six:  Realize water has been running the whole entire time and you have two feet of bubbles, a full sink and water all over your counters.  Simultaneously, start cleaning it up forgetting about the sizzling chicken you can't hear because there are barking dogs, music and your stream of profanity.

Step Seven:  Yell at female dog for humping her older male sibling.

Step Eight:  Forget about dishes because they probably aren't going to get done because you may not suck at dinner but you ace sucking at multitasking.

Step Nine:  Crack open that bottle of celebratory champagne because you single-handedly saved dinner.

Step 9 3/4*:  Stare out the window and gaze at how fast the weather changed and is an utter torrential downpour....then start cussing because you remember you left your dog outside because she was being an asshole.

* 'Arry Pottah reference :D I prefer to say it with an accent because it tickles my fancy.

Step Ten:   Enjoy that champagne and tell husband that you came up with dinner on your own because you're just that amazing at being a wife/spouse/slave or what have you.  Don't tell him/her you found the recipe on Pinterest because he will inevitably say "Uhh...Another Pinterest recipe? Remember what happened last time?"

Hope you enjoyed this tutorial.  Want more?  Well then I'll probably write more.  I can make a tutorial out of  anything.  Just slap my ass and call me Etsy ;)

Xoxo
Riley Writes

The Pot Roast Predicament

Some things are just better left unsaid.  However, I feel like maybe somehow, somewhere, I can help some poor housewife somewhere suck less at housewifey duties because she can show her husband this blog and say  "See honey, I'm not a total failure!  At least I can make a pot roast in the crock pot."

I feel like I should be writing this blog with a hearty class of champagne in my hand instead of green tea because not only is it that time of the day....it's also a lot easier to admit your shortcomings while drinking a carbonated sparkling alcoholic beverage with a hint of orange juice.  Also, I am out of champagne and I think my husband may frown upon me being belligerently bubbly while trying to bench press meager weights and complete a WOD without throwing up.

Okay, here goes....I can't make a pot roast.  I have no idea why.  Why not me God, why?  For my birthday this year, one of my closest friends here in Guam bought me a slow cooker.  So far, the tally for making delicious slow cooker meals is Slow Cooker: 124590 - Rachele: 2.  But only because I can't seem to follow directions which has been an issue since kindergarten and I'm basically inept at cooking a lot of things.  I've attempted a pot roast three times.  The first time was my first pot roast ever.  Epic fail. Who messes up a pot roast?  Apparently, the same person who cannot for the life of her make rice krispie treats.  

My mother gave me the first recipe.  "Oh it's simple, put 2 envelopes of onion soup, veggies, add some water and cook it on low for eight hours or even overnight!"  

Can't screw this up.  Nope.  Dry as the Sahara desert.

The second pot roast was ruined because I was socially drinking mimosas on a Saturday night alone while my husband was at a squadron Hail & Bail.  I may have exceeded my maximum to function of two mimosas and instead of flipping the top of the seasoning open, I may or may not have emptied the whole bottle (which was full of course) of seasoning into the pot roast. 

I have no earthly idea why it wouldn't turn out.

This latest one that happens to be cooking at this very moment is actually perfectly tender and moist.  I rubbed the roast *giggle, because that sounds dirty* with olive oil, garlic salt, fresh garlic and some steak rub that smells utterly amazing.  Add veggies and some chicken broth because that's all I had on hand and oh yeah....don't forget the salt.

Whaaaat?  Who said anything about salt?  Who didn't say anything about salt? Perfectly moist and perfectly....bland.

We may just do as we've done the few before and put it in a bowl "for tomorrow night"  and then conveniently forget it's in the fridge for two weeks.

It's a good thing that guy married me for my sparking personality and not my cooking abilities.
Xoxo
Riley Writes

Being married to me isn't easy

But it's rarely ever dull.  I'm crazy.  I say a lot of random and inappropriate things quite often and every once in a while, I don't think things through.  It also means having conversations like this:

R: "Ugh, Zachary Tri-Rob Riley....my bladder is completely full and I think I might pee myself."

Z:  "Babe, we literally just left the restaurant....I can see it in the rear view mirror.  Why didn't you go there?"

R: "Well....because there is only a single bathroom and the whole restaurant was packed so there was probably someone in there and I didn't want to wait."

Z: "So you wanted to wait the whole ride back home....that's about 30-45 minutes?"

R:  Well, my plan was to pee on the side of a random building outside of the restaurant but on my way over there, I saw very tall grass and that most likely means snakes plus there are people outside and even though Eryn said she'd keep a lookout for me, I just couldn't do it because I saw cars coming both ways. So, I guess I'm holding it but oh my God AVOID THE BUMPS! I'm going to unbutton my pants to relieve the pressure.  Nope, didn't work....still have to pee my shorts."

Z:  "I can't avoid them, they're everywhere and you're being ridiculous."

R: "Do you have a bottle?  I'm gonna do it.  I need a bottle."

Z: "Don't you dare..."

This whole conversation actually happened in case you were curious....but the best part comes after he dared me to pee in a bottle...at least that's how I took it.

R:  "You don't call me ridiculous, you're ridiculous and I'm just going to pee all over your face then you'll feel bad because, well, I peed on your face and you'll see just how bad I had to pee.

Z:  "You're gross and I'm breaking up with you."

R: "Fine then, break up with me....wait, for how long are we talking?  The whole way home or for the rest of the evening?  Because if you're breaking up with me for the ride home, I'm going to flirt with the guy in the truck.  He has a wedding ring on but I secretly think he's into me and we're broken up so he's fair game."

Z:  "Jeeezus.  I think for the evening."

R: "Is this because I said I'd pee on your face....because I won't actually do that.  Your foot maybe, not your face. Are you even aware of how difficult it would be to maneuver that?  But I love you."

Z: "Don't be all sweet to me, I love you too but you're not getting out of it that easy."

R: "Oh hey boy, listen, my husband and I are broken up for the evening, you wanna piece of this?  Fi dolla make you holla.  Ohhh booooy what colah you like?"

Z:  "Jeezus pleeezus what have I gotten myself into?"

Then we started laughing uncontrollably which made it even harder to contain my baby bladder.  I didn't pee myself  but I made him stop at the gas station two minutes from our house because I really don't know if I could have made it over the speed bumps.  I literally waddled into the gas station.

Maybe next time I'll just use the bathroom.

Xoxo
Riley Writes

Nothing is sacred

Amid all the dog toys, raw hides and pet fur that encases my home in a constant state of an allergies worst nightmare lies a rather terrible affliction.  One that, in all my years of having puppies, I would have never seen coming.

Licking.  That's right, licking.  They lick errrrreything.  The walls, dishwasher, cabinets, bathroom floor, people, the couches and the worst of them all....our coffee tables.  It wouldn't be so terrible if our tables weren't glass or if they licked the walls where I couldn't see them.  Both Henry and Hannah have extremely long tongues so to see them sit there and lick things like that.....well, frankly they look like they're both on a bad lsd trip, or a good one?

In fact, as I'm typing this, the glass coffee table that took me fifteen minutes and a half a bottle of Windex is being licked from top to bottom.  Just one long tongue mark from one end to the other.  Great, now I have to clean it again.

I haven't showered alone in weeks. If I leave the door shut, it sounds like they're clawing for dear life because a serial killer is about to behead them and the only safe place is with me in the bathroom.  I can't decide if I find it cute or annoying.

"Oh hey Mom, I see you're in the shower.  We should probably poke our heads in and lick the tub to make sure it's safe for you.  Well, I'll lick one side, Hannah will poke her head in the other side to lick the faucet and let all the hot air out that you've accumulated.  You know, you look pretty lonely in there, why don't I jump in there with you and lick your legs?  It will be character building and quality time even though I hate being in the shower.  You just really look like you need some company in here."

I guess the only good thing about that is that even though I consider them my babies....they don't have thumbs so they could never actually let themselves in like a real child.  Hmm....

Xoxo
Riley Writes

Anything but laundry...

Gone are the days where I would trade my sister in a heartbeat for chores.  I was the oldest so that automatically meant, hand washing dishes because I was the dishwasher, cleaning the kitchen and doing the laundry rotation from washer, to dryer to couch where my sister "folded" them and put them away.   I longed for the days where she would be stupid enough to switch with me. Just so I could fold laundry and clean the living room instead of cleaning up the giant mess she made the night before when she made dinner.

Let me explain my sister's way of making dinner.  "Oh the recipe only calls for two pans....better use five just in case.   I see that we will be using raw meat.  I should get seven different spatulas so I can use a different one every time to reduce the risk of infection by airborne pathogens of the raw beef/chicken persuasion so we don't all get West Nile and die. Five people will be eating?  Better have out enough dishes for everyone to have at least two plates so none of the sides touch.  That's better.  Oh, you just cleaned the kitchen?  Sorry about all the dishes from one meal.  But look at the bright side, you get to do the same thing again tomorrow!"

Don't believe me?  Call my mom.  She didn't believe me either until I moved out.  Never has an apology sounded sweeter.

Today, I'm sitting on the couch staring at the mountainous pile of laundry that hasn't been folded.  Thinking about the laundry in the laundry room that needs to be put in the washer and wondering if I really need to put the clothes that are in the dryer back into the washer because our dryer doesn't dry completely on the first round which I seem to forget on a regular basis.  So the clothes in the dryer smell bad.  By bad, I mean they don't smell like a Mountain Breeze or Lavender and Honeysuckle....they smell like....well, wet nasty laundry.  When I remember to turn on the dryer two or three more times (doesn't matter what size the load is, it still takes forever), it's generally around bed time so by the time I wake up in the morning and kick myself, they already smell terrible.

I would rather scrub a toilet and clean a nasty bathroom than fold laundry.  I'd rather give the dogs who have rolled in something dead, a bath before I would chose to fold laundry.  I would take hot smelly trash out before folding the gigantic pile of laundry that takes up my loveseat.

"But Rachele, why don't you fold the laundry as you pull it out of the dryer?  It makes things so much easier!"

False.  No it doesn't. I hate it.

"Okay, I get it....but why would you rather take out trash or wash a mountain of dishes by hand?"

As soon as you wash dishes, it's done and over with.  Same as taking out the trash.  Folding clothes is taking them out of the dryer, folding, separating, finding a place to put all of your clothes, putting them away and then starting all over again with the next load.  It's time consuming and a thankless job because even if you fold them, they still get wrinkly.

The next time you visit and don't see any laundry on the designated Laundry Love Seat, just know it's in my room on the bed unfolded.

Xoxo,
Riley Writes

Henry & Hannah Antics

Oh Henry.  Oh Hannah.

If you haven't read the "What a Messy House" post or you don't know me, then you wouldn't know that I have two fur children that I cherish and like a lot better than most people.  To me, they are exactly like my children.  I feed them, I bathe them, I love them and teach them things like fetch, "Go Tell Daddy", sit, stay and "Get Me a Beer."  (The last has been rather unsuccessful)  I love their individual personalities that shine through and the fact that they hate being without one another.   I also put them in time out from time to time when I either need a break, or they've been bad.  Which is why they're in timeout right now.  Generally they don't know they've been bad because their dogs.  They just think it's nap time or we're leaving the house.

Today, my darling little 6 month old Hannah was stalking a fly on the wall.  They both do this quite often so it's not something I'm unused to. Henry is notorious for trying to catch flies at the sliding glass door.  Many an afternoon I have spent watching him run head first into the slider, worried it was going to shatter with the force he was running into it at.  So like I said, nothing I'm not used to.

I was watching Hannah as her cute little head went back and forth following the fly and it's flight pattern.  The fly then sealed his own fate by landing on the wall.  In the blink of an eye, she jumped at least a foot and a half off the ground and the fly disappeared.  I was unsure if she had caught it but her refusal to let me open her mouth said it all.  I watched her prance proudly around the house, excited and happy at her latest catch.  Then, she spit it onto the floor and in an instant, Henry bent down to eat it.

Within seconds after that event, I saw one more fly disappear at the paws of my sweet little Hannah. Again, she wouldn't let me open her mouth and ran to her favorite hiding spot where she chews/eats things she isn't supposed to. Henry tried a few times but he isn't as fast and agile as our spastic little lady.  Not that he hasn't caught any, on the contrary, he's caught quite a few.  He just prefers a different method.

Today has been different as it has been a lot of thunder and lightening with a side of torrential downpour.  The pups were going absolutely bonkers so I decided to put them in their safe place for a while, just until the roaring stopped.  Hannah does this thing where she jumps up and down all crazy at the slider and a few times, has locked me out of the house.  Luckily, Zach has always been home so I don't have to go around to the front door....but that option is always there.  She also occasionally jumps up and down at the front door if one of us goes outside.  Today, Hannah went a little crazy and was jumping and barking at the thunder and lightening at the back door, like she always does and she locked it....like she always does.  I didn't actually think anything of it because it's so frequent.

Do do do do dooo, I'm cleaning out the fridge and filling up the trash with all sorts of unsavory leftovers of meals past. La la la la laaaa, time to take the trash out even though it's pouring down raaaaain!  I load up the trash, put my cute little polka dotted rainboots on and make my way to the carport.  It's a process that takes about 15-30 seconds and all the while, I can hear Hannah inside, barking and jumping up and down.

That's when the unthinkable happens.

I walk back to the door in my white tank top without a bra on (because I can do that when I don't leave the house), my adorable little sweats that are tucked into my rain boots (hearing my attire is necessary for you to understand the following events) annnnnd the door is locked.  Hannah, in her jumping frenzy, hit the lock button on the door knob.  Seriously.  I couldn't make this up.

After about 15 minutes of enlisting my neighbor for help to open some windows that were all locked (which makes me feel safe I suppose), I ran over to another neighbors and called my husband who didn't answer his phone.  Luckily for me, he called them back and said I could go to the squadron to get his key.  He tells my neighbor to call him when we get there so I don't have to come inside.

Of course, you know the call didn't go through.  I had to walk into the squadron and wouldn't you know it, there were about ten people up front hanging out, you know, to see me in all my soaked pajama/rain boots /wet stringy haired glory.  I could see the disbelief in everyone's eyes when I told them what had happened.  Lucky for me, one lady was kind enough to escort me to Zach's office (because I didn't have an identification to prove who I was and I generally don't need my ID to take the trash out.).

I must say, I was pretty impressed that the world hadn't collapsed, there were no pee spots and not a single item was chewed up by the time I got home.  They were so very happy to see me, it made me giggle.

Just a day in the life eh?
Xoxo
Riley Writes

I'm one of "those" people

I sound like a broken record, I get it.  I have never considered myself to have an obsessive personality unless we're talking about Pinterest, seashells and new tv shows that I discover.

Until now.  Now I have discovered Crossfit.

I didn't realize (I kinda did but until this evening, I didn't realize the degree) how much I LOVE Crossfit.  I have tried plenty of other workouts, paid for a personal trainer, did classes, dvds, Tae Bo, P90x, Zumba and a whole slew of other workouts.  I couldn't find an interest in any of them.  I'm not saying they don't work, they just don't work for me.  I couldn't find the motivation I needed to keep myself going and I couldn't seem to find the "burn" or results I wanted either.  Until recently, that is.

I love the fact that Crossfit keeps me constantly evolving into a better, fitter person.  At first, I was only concerned with losing weight.  I am currently at my heaviest now and even though it kills me to say it, I'm no longer the young and wild one I used to be.  I can no longer eat anything I want, stay up all night, or live the lifestyle I used to without consequences.  Nor do I want to.  Who wants to stay up til 5 a.m hitting up Whataburger on the way home because you just worked an 11 hour shift with no actual break other than taking longer in the restroom than you really needed to?  Not this girl.  Scarfing down your food because you need to finish it before the next customer comes to sit at the bar?  No thanks.

One of my favorite Crossfit quotes is "I welcome you to the community of people who have decided that easy will no longer suffice - RIP".  It really is that simple.  You finally reach a point where you're tired of being sick and tired.  For me, it was not liking what I saw in the mirror every single day.  I felt frumpy, gross and definitely not beach ready, especially at the heaviest I have ever been.  Not exercising, eating pizza and drinking beer had taken it's toll.  It wasn't until Zach kept asking and asking and asking if I would like to go with him, did I finally realize enough is enough.  I guess I resisted so long because I didn't want to go and feel like I did any of the other times I have ever tried a new workout regiment.  It's frustrating to go to the gym, feel like you work your ass off and not feel any different.  Even for any amount of time.

With Crossfit, I started feeling changed almost immediately.  I felt better about myself, I had more energy and I was't the slightest bit embarrassed to be using a pvc pipe with all the other bad-asses that were lifted 200+.  Crossfit is about evolving and making yourself be a better you.  It's about helping others better themselves. It's about inner and outer strength, showing your courage to make the leap and trying to do something different to better your life.  I'm changing and using muscles I wasn't even aware I had.  It's an amazing feeling because I have progressed more in two months than I have my whole life.

I used to be concerned with the numbers on the scale because it was more than I have ever seen and it didn't feel very good.  However, now I find myself becoming less and less concerned with the numbers on the scale  and caring more about the amount of weight I'm putting on my bar.  It's given me a new found air of confidence that I have never had (even though I have always been a pretty confident person :D).  Although the number on the scale has stayed the same, I can see myself getting more toned and muscular. (Did you buy your tickets to the BB gun show? ;) )  It makes me want to do things that I have never done before and set goals I would have never even imagined.  I.E. When I leave Guam, I'm hoping Zach and I will do the Tough Mudder together.  It's intense but I think it's a great goal to have and to say "Oh yeah, I did that once."  I wouldn't mind being able to go to the Crossfit Open eventually and if that went well, hell, bring on the Crossfit Games.

Working out with Zach has been pretty amazing too.  Not only is he my best friend and husband, he's also pretty good at motivating.  He says things like "Babe you got this,"  or "Seriously?  Is that all you got?"  I respond better to motivating me by saying things like "My grandma can lift more than that."  We enjoy doing this together and I know it gives him a small boost to know his wife is over there all lifting weights and being bad ass.  It gives me a massive amount of pride to see Zach outdo all of the young bucks that waltz in there. I'm like all "Oh yeah, that's my husband.  He's basically a bad ass and he's awesome. No big deal."  We don't wear our rings to the gym so he's fair game to hit on as well.  He always says he has a girlfriend but I don't think that's true because we always leave together :)

A few other reasons (last ones, I promise)  that I love going to Crossfit so much is that it's never the same workout.  You're always doing something different and the workout is always posted on the Crossfit website.  Sure, it looks EXTREMELY intimidating but there are always scaled workouts for different skill levels.  Some days I can do a higher skill level, others, I'm still hanging out with the "puppies" with my cute pvc pipe I may just Bedazzle.  At any rate, I love it and it makes me happy.

So, while your done reading all of my pro-Crossfit propaganda, go check out the website, do a little reading and form your own opinions.

Xoxo
Riley Writes