A month for the bees.

Well I suppose it's been a long time since I last wrote.  Also that title has nothing to do with the actual blog post I think.  Unless you'd like to talk about bees in which case they really don't have anything to say other than there are a lot of wasps here. And I'm not going to lie, they're kind of scary.

A lot of nothing and everything has been going on here in Idaho. I finally got to meet my adorable nephew and snuggle my niece's face.  However it's been quite a challenge considering I live a fairly quiet life in Guam no screaming babies, no dirty diapers, and no running around screaming "Weechele, Weechele, wutchu doin?" 

Yesterday I woke to the sound of my doorhandle jiggling. Normally you would think that your house is being broken into or a monster was getting ready to attack you in your sleep, while you lay there motionless, unable to move from fear. It was a monster of sorts.  I couldn't decide whether I wanted to let it in or try to hide and sleep for a little bit longer. Clearly evident, the choice of letting her in because I had no idea what she was up to. 

"Weeeeeeechele, lemme in! Weeeechele, wutchu doing? Play game Weechele? Game? Weee-chele....lemme in, I mish you." (She tells me she misses me when she wants something because I can't resist her cuteness.)

Her adorable voice and charms were no match for my need to sleep. I don't have my own kids so I wasn't aware that it was possible to love children that didn't pop out of your lady bits as much as I love my niece and nephew.  I changed my very first crappy diaper yesterday (I say very first but I mean it's been about 11 years and I've never changed a boys crappy diaper).  Of course, not without needing a bottle of wine to finish the job while Vincent sat there all-knowing and giggling. I managed without the wine but it was no easy feat.  As much as I tried to avoid a diaper, I couldn't help but think of him saying "Merry Christmas, the shitter was full!" I knew it was inevitable, just a matter of when. 

It's been wonderful to see my family spend time with my cousins and I even got to go to a heavy metal concert not but that's my cup of tea...but I enjoyed it nonetheless.  I felt a little out of my element, considering I normally hear island music and reggae on a daily basis.  Not my first rodeo...or metal concert but it's been a hot minute.  By the glory of divine intervention, karma or just sheer luck, I ran into one of my friend my very best friends from high school who I haven't seen in four years.  What are the odds of that happening?  

This trip is definitely had its downfalls but it's been mostly wonderful.  I said goodbye to one of the most influential women in my life, I got to see my best friend for the first time in six years although I wish it had been under different circumstances. I've seen family members that I haven't seen in the upper part of 8 years, and my sister's goat died...seriously, I can't make this shit up. It's been quite the adventure and above all, I am freezing my ass off.  I was afforded the opportunity to pick apples from apple trees, fresh raspberries from  a raspberry bush and eat plums picked on my uncle's property. I forgot how wonderful that kind of stuff tastes because everything has to be flown in and is incredibly expensive here in Guam.  I mean seriously, I cried at the sight of 10 for 10 bell peppers in any color.

It's amazing the kind of things you forget when you've been gone from where you're from for so long. Although it's an adventure have to say I'm incredibly ready to go back to where it's warm I can wear shorts and I can visit a real gym any time I please. 

I apologize for the delay in posts on my blog, not only has it been a crazy month for me but once again my laptop is not working. Not sure why it feels the need to break down when I'm away from my husband, Mr. computer fixed it and but it does. Maybe just doesn't like me?  I'm using my talk to text app on my iPhone which actually seems to be working relatively well now that I realize I can say "period" and it actually puts a period,  instead of having to go through and edit everything. That's kind of nice except I don't feel as creative when I talk. The magic is in my hands, magic hands, if you'd like to call them.  That's where the magic comes from.

That's it for this installation of Riley Writes.

Xoxo

Time Travel, Customs & Plane Etiquette

First and foremost, let me just apologize for the incoherent ramblings you are about to read.  The funny thing about time travel is that if you go back in time a day, you generally miss out on sleep and get a massive headache with the threat of it turning into a migraine. I'd rather not let it get like that because my migraines are not pretty (not that any ever are).  So you take a fancy pill (or two in my case) that have a barbiturate in them and go about your day in a haze until it wears off.  I do believe The Doctor doesn't have these issues but I don't know him personally. Then again, he can heal himself or something like that.

Seriously, I've caught like four errors already.  Mostly in adding words that don't belong. Carry on.

It's almost 2 o'clock here in the land of the Evergreens.  I slept until noon but not until I woke up at 2 a.m and was unable to fall back asleep until almost 5 this morning.  And this is AFTER taking three Tylenol PM.  I wasn't joking about my headache.  Serious shit.

If you read my last post, you'd know that traveling not only takes it out of me, but I seem to have issues with it, always.  It never fails.  I'm just a nervous flyer based on past experiences.  This occasion was no different.  My first flight was wonderful, went off without a hitch except the ungodly need to pee.  I sat next to a nice guy who's wife works on the Air Force base where we live.  We chit chatted, I sat behind a boy with really really nice hair so that was lovely to look at.  My flight was good and without incident which was lovely.

Then I reached Narita, Japan where I had to go through TSA again for reasons unbeknownst to me.  It wasn't bad except I still had to pee something fierce.  Once I finally made it through, I made a bee line to the bathroom and got to use a bidet for the third time in my life.  It was lovely except I must have sat there for a minute waiting for it to turn off by itself (Hint for those of you who travel, there's an off button that looks the same in any language).  As I make my way to the gate, I find a seat at the terminal (which wasn't difficult because there were a ton of seats available).  I put my carry on one side of me and my purse on the other side.  I was sitting at the second seat at the beginning of the row, minding my own business because I'm an adult and I do that sometimes.  Out of nowhere, a woman sits down next to my purse, touching it.  I move it to the other side of me and think to myself "There must be AT LEAST 30 seats available in this terminal.  This seat?  Really?"  I manage to connect to wifi and iMessage my husband because of course, my computer won't work and no sooner do I start messaging him, this woman starts looking over my shoulder reading my texts.  I think eventually she got tired of reading about how Henry needs to go in for minor surgery and that I feel like the worlds worst puppy mom.

Fast forward through boarding (which was awesome because I bought a ticket with a military discount which means I can board earlier that normal.  Little victories), I get settled into my seat and a man approaches me and says "You're not supposed to be sitting here."

"I'm sorry, this seat was assigned to me."  Then the guy responds with "I checked this morning and I was the only one sitting in this row.  I was supposed to have it all to myself."  I tell him that I was assigned this morning when I checked in.  I think it was his attempt at dry humor but I always find myself less than humorous on international flights...that's just me, lack of sleep and bad circulation in my feet.  Snuggle in with my pillow, get settled and all of the sudden from behind me, I catch the beginning of a conversation:

"So you're from Washington?  That's coo, I'm getting stationed there, you'll have to show me around."

"Yeah no problem.  I've never been on the base here before."

"I ain' ever been before neither.  I'm in the middle of a divorce.  When I met my wife (fade out, can't here because the plane just started...) you know, she wan give me a gift.  A gift you can only give to someone once.  Out of all dem good lookin dudes, she chose me.  I be like "You sure?" She said "Yeah, you a good lookin dude."  (- You know, the basis for any amazing relationship.) 9 months later she be all "I'm tired and hungry. Then I be like yo, you pregnant? She let me do what I do and...."  

I had to stop listening.  It was awful and I was floored.  You just met this girl and you're telling her about this?!  So I did what any normal sane/hangry person would do....I took some Tylenol PM (because that's when my headache started) and I went to sleep for the majority of the flight.

Before takeoff, the flight crew handed out forms to go through customs.  Not anything too exciting.  I have less than 10,000 dollars on me, I am not bringing food, haven't touched any cows nor am I selling anything.  There is a spot for an address or hotel you'll be staying at.  I put Buckley because you know, I'll be spending the majority of my time there for the next week.  The line was pretty long but it went by quickly...until I got up there.  Clearly, I'm a US citizen, I speak fluent English and I'm from Washington which I made a point to tell her.  Maybe it was the fact that I didn't have time to shave my mustache before going through customs that made me a threat, I don't know.

Customs lady with a Russian Accent - "Passport and customs form."

"Here you go."

-"Is this your final destination?"

"Yes ma'am.

-"I need an address."  

I replied with, "I don't have an address but I can give you a phone number?  Will that work?"

-"What do you mean you don't have an address?  Where will you be staying?"

"I'll be staying with my aunt and uncle but I don't have their address, I've been out of the country

 for nearly two years."

By this point, we're both getting completely aggravated.  She rolled her eyes at me and said a number was acceptable.  So I gave her my parents number because that's where I'll be spending the majority of my time.  She attempts to dial it but I cut her off.

"That number is in Idaho, I'll be staying there once I leave here."
-"So then what flight will you be on?"
"I'm not flying, I'm driving because I'm staying in Washington for a week with my aunt and uncle.  My aunt works here at the airport."
-"I'm going to send you to the back since you have no address or phone number."
 "I've been out of the country for two years because my husband is military, my phone clearly doesn't work here because it's from Guam. You can page my aunt who works here and is picking me up outside of customs. I don't know what else you want from me.
-"Give my your aunt's phone number."  So I give to to her, she dials, huffs and puffs at me which makes me even angrier than I already am.
-"It doesn't work. The number is disconnected, I'm sending you to the back."  What does that even mean?
"It does work, I know this because it's one of three numbers I have memorized. Try. It. Again." By this time I'm being short and curt...but she wasn't a walk in the park either.
She dials "Maybe I pressed a wrong number. (insert huffy puffy voice)  You're good.  Next time have an address."

I proceed down to International baggage where I literally waited 20+ minutes for my baggage to make it out.  I didn't even have to see it to know it was on the belt.  I literally could smell my tea tree oil a mile away. F*ck.  Even though I made sure the cap was on tight, somehow, it leaked out and permeated my luggage from inside the plastic ziploc I put it in and made sure at least 5 times that it was closed.  Science or something like that.

From there, I made my way though the other part of customs...then older gentleman looked at my form an asked "Rachele, is there any sort of fruit/food/ or things of that matter I should know about?"  I replied with a "No sir."  Then he laughed and said even if I did have something, since I'm coming from Guam it was probably from the states anyways.

From there I patrolled around the baggage claims for 45 minutes looking for my aunt and readjusting my 100 pounds luggage because I'll be damned if I'm going to pay 5 dollars for a luggage cart.  I haven't been to an airport this large in about 5-7 years.  It's weird.  Pensacola Regional has 5 baggage claims, Guam has about 5 and Spokane airport has about the same.  Imagine my surprise of seeing about 15 of them.  After asking a nice woman if I could borrow her cell phone, I couldn't get a hold of anyone so I stopped and asked one of the craziest questions I've ever asked in my life.

"Erm, I know this is crazy and y'all probably NEVER hear this and I hope I NEVER have to ask it again buuuut, do you know where a payphone is at? I've haven't used one in forever....actually...make that ever except my phone doesn't work here and I'm tired and a bit grumpy."

I got directions and while I was pondering how to fit 100 pounds of suitcases in the bathroom for me, I heard my name and my wonderful aunt came rushing up to greet me, giving me a hug that basically washed any bad feeling away!  It's incredible how just one bear hug from a beloved family member can make you feel.  It pretty much cures anything except for a case of hangry.  Which I was because, ew, airline food.  Even then though, I still felt pretty wonderful.

That's about it for now.  I think I've expended a lot of energy writing this post today.  Tomorrow I'll post about how I almost started crying in Fred Myer's since your eyeballs are probably as tired as my brain from reading this.

Welcome back to Washington!

Xoxo,
Riley Writes

Planes, planes and mishap-mobiles

  Hooray!  My ticket is booked.  After yesterday's little debacle, I finally broke down and bought a ticket.  Although I'll more than likely have to work the street for a month, it's totally worth it.

I've been monitoring the Space A (Space Available) flights because even though living overseas does have its perks, it has its downfalls too.  Like for instance, needing to fly home costs around 1300-1700 bucks.  When we moved here, just my one way alone was 1700.  Yesterday, I finally find a flight that hasn't been cancelled, miraculously am picked out of the 45 people waiting for flights (There were only 10 seats available).  You're picked by category 2-6, lower number, higher category.  I have to admit after hearing my name being called, I was grinning from ear to ear.  I have been waiting for a flight for almost three weeks.  I went up, paid for my in flight meal and waited for the call to go through security.  Make it through security to sit down at the gate and rearrange my belongings, still smiling because "Holy shit, I made it through secur..."

"Attention ladies and gentleman, I regret to inform you that your flight has been cancelled."

A voice from our small group calls out "Is this some sort of joke?"

"I assure you sir, this is not a joke, the flight has been cancelled.  It literally happened 30 seconds ago.  I apologize for the inconvenience. It's no longer safe for passengers."  What does that even mean?!

I don't let it get me down though, I giggled a bit and looked like a lunatic.  Here's my reasoning for that though:  any time I travel by plane, something goes awry so I always try to err on the side of caution.  I could probably write a book on the subject matter.  That sounds like I always think negatively but I've learned to go with the flow.  Like when they lost my bags on the way to Idaho and I had to wear my male cousins clothes for three days.  Three days! Which was incredibly awkward because I didn't have any underoos.  I think he burned the clothes upon my returning them.  Or the time I missed my flight by 5 minutes and they refused to let me on.  How about when my charger broke on my phone, then my phone died and I got stuck at the airport bawling my eyes out.  My first time using a bidet in Japan and my pants were soaked because I had no idea what I was doing.  Or when I was stranded in Spokane with my uncle because of a snow storm...only to board the plane 2-3 hours late, taxi out and then taxi right back in because a woman who was spouting off something in a different language and running up and down the aisles having a major meltdown and had to be removed?  Book material, I tell you.

I lugged all 90 pounds of my luggage back to the care, not without breaking a sweat though.  I could see my car from the doors of the terminal and by the time I got there, I had a sweat mustache...which surprisingly enough, isn't attractive.  I came home and bought a ticket.  But not without crying out to the credit card gods and telling them that you promise the next blood sacrifice you make will be better, and that you may even include your soul.  Then I napped for a few hours since I didn't sleep the night before.  Why didn't I sleep?  Because I'm like a small child excited for Christmas and waiting for Santa.

This is the first time since Zach and I got married that we will be separated for longer than a week.  He's calling it my deployment since I'm not quite sure when I'll be back.  At the risk of sounding gross and mushy, I'm going to miss him, a lot.  Especially since he just made me a sausage and egg muffin sandwich and said "I'm going to give you a big slice of sausage."  Those aren't jokes you hear around your parents and moderately well behaved family members often.  Okay, well in my family they are but that's besides the point.

Well, that's it for this installment of Riley Writes.  Washington, Idaho and Florida...I'll be seeing you soon.

Xoxo.

My marriage, in three sentences.

Marrying your best friend definitely has it's advantages.

A love story, by Rachele & Zach Riley

Zach:  Hey girl, yeah.  Twerk it.  

Me:  But I dunno how to twerk it.

Zach:  Well, I guess that's something you need to twork on.

The end.

Xoxo, 

Riley Writes

A Post About Stuff

I've been pretty down in the dumps the past few days.  I've been trying to get a flight out of here on a military plane the past two weeks.  I get all excited and then it gets cancelled within hours of it being in my reach.  Did I mention I'm incredibly homesick?

Yeah, it sucks.  All of that aside though, no one wants to read a post about how homesick/sad I am.  So instead, I'll give you a post about stuff.  Stuff that I'm embarrassed about, book stuff and more stuff.  After all, that's the subtitle of my blog.  "A Fancy Little Blog About Stuff".  Tired of that word yet?

First off...let's start with the word "Shipping".  I've seen it on Tumblr a few times and had no idea what it meant so of course, I went to my trusted source of Urban Dictionary and got this Shipping: A term used to describe fan fictions that take previously created characters and put them as a pair. It usually refers to romantic relationships, but it can refer platonic ones as well. (Just think of "shipping" as short for "relationSHIP".)

Kinda cool, eh?  Yeah, yeah, I can picture you saying "Get to the point asshole, I have stuff to do."  Well, I ship "Delena".  "Who is this?" you say?  Only Damon and Elena from The Vampire Diaries.  I'm obsessed.  I'm a weirdo and I know I'm not the only one who feels this way.  Granted most of them are like 13 year old girls but I will scream it loud and proud "I AM UNASHAMED!"

Also, I've been watching Doctor Who til my eyes bleed.  I love it.  Never thought I'd actually be interested in a science fiction show but now I absolutely have to have a sonic screwdriver and a Dalek alarm clock.  If you can find Matt Smith, I'll take him in my stocking. (Ahem, again with the Christmas gift hints.)

I've been wanting to read any and all books by Michael Pollan.  If you recall a few posts ago, I mentioned checking a book out from the library by him but I didn't get to read it.  In hindsight, I probably had the time to read it since all of my flights have been cancelled (nothing like beating a dead horse).  Anyways I asked on the local garage sale page if anyone had them for sale because if I were to buy them all for my Nook, and there is 6 of them, I'd be looking at $100+.  I'm a relatively fast reader and there aren't any used book stores around here. Sad face.  Then, an angel descended and said "I do have all of those books, plus 8,000 more e-books if you'd like to browse through them."

It's like a heaven for me.  So, I think I'm going to start doing bi-monthly book reviews.  Thoughts?  Yeah, neigh?

That's it for now.

Xoxo,
Riley Writes

Juicing....not just for steroids these days.

Was that too cliche?  Is that even the right cliche?  That's what steroids used to be called, right?  Ahh, Urban Dictionary.  I was right, just looked it up.

Yesterday started out like any normal day, my amazing neighbor brought over her juicer and we did what any two high functioning housewives with a penchant for bubbly do...we juiced oranges for mid day mimosas.  What did you think we were going to do?

In our defense, she brought over other stuff to juice, like healthy stuff that we most definitely didn't juice.  Priorities.  

Today, I woke up, did the womanly stuff like cleaning the kitchen, laundry and what have you.  Then I sat down to watch some Netflix.  In doing so I stumbled upon Fat, Sick & Nearly Dead.  It's a documentary about one man's pursuit for a healthier lifestyle and to rid himself of autoimmune issues by healing through juiced fruits and veggies.  I've heard of juicing before, never given it much thought though.  We've discussed buying a juicer plenty of times.  In fact, it was one of the reasons we stood in Macy's for 30 minutes while deciding if we wanted a Ninja or not.  We went with the Ninja but thoughts of getting a juicer have never been too far from our minds. 

I was in shock and awe of this documentary.  Autoimmune diseases have a special place in my family. When Joe Cross mentioned being on Prednisone, a steroid my mother frequently uses when she's having an MS attack, it resonated with me.  This man went from being overweight, on a high dose steroids, and dealing with a sometimes crippling disease to changing his whole lifestyle to start taking care of himself and really living.  About 20 minutes til the end, my husband came home and watched the rest of it with me.  It took all of 5 minutes for us to decide what our next investment would be.

Taaa-daaa!  We had our very first juicing experience (other than the mimosas) tonight.  I took pictures because in this day and age, "Pics or it didn't happen!"  There was a lot of inappropriate talk of being shot in the eye, not getting rid of the white stuff, squeezing and just about all the other innuendos you can think of.  There was juggling of oranges, peelings of lemons, puppies in the kitchen and more inappropriate banter because I seem to hang out with people who are equally as crude as myself.   Which is fine by me, because if you aren't aware already, I happen to find myself incredibly entertaining.

Our ingredients.

The husband, doing as he's told.

The neighbor, also doing as she's told.  She goes by Erin most of the time or The Neighbor.  Sometimes I like that because it sounds chummy.

Oh hush.  Don't even act like you know anything about removing labels from spaghetti sauce jars.   It'll come off eventually.  I'm lazy, you know this.

That would be a puppy head, in the kitchen where he clearly should not be.

Zach made the Post Workout Punch.  He enjoyed it so much, he made another!

I feel the need to address the spot on my shirt.  It's ice cream and I'm unashamed.  You feed that PMS monster whatever it wants.  Even if it's a double scoop of Jamocha Almond Fudge immediately after purchasing a juicer.  To quote my husband "You see the irony in this, right?"  I do Zachary, I do.

The odd little Guam family that juices together, drinks out of spaghetti jars together.

I think it's been decided that Zach and I will do a juice cleanse once I get back from my vacation (if I can ever get a flight).  I apologize for the quality of these photos, my camera is packed up in my carry on and I have no desire to mess with that jigsaw puzzle for the sake of better quality pictures.  

Happy juicing things that aren't steroids!

Xoxo

Riley Writes

I drink wine because tomato soup and dogs.

Okay ladies and gents, I've decided to bestow another yummy delicious and clean recipe upon you.  Tomato soup happens to be one of my favorite soups, next to my grandmothers potato soup and the potato soup from Chili's.

Also, I decided to write this right away because if I don't, I'll probably have a Hannah Handbag.  I'm 99.9% positive she peed on the carpet because the little asshole doesn't like to go outside.  To be honest, I'm beginning to think she's the culprit behind a lot of things.  As well as a Henry area rug because someone has a penchant for mommy's underwear...only instead of hoarding it like he normally does (I can find anywhere from 1-5 pairs in his kennel at any given time), he decided to shred this pair into little shards.  Seriously.  He's outside right now for the 23495th time today.  And he's sitting at the door staring, he's been outside for less than 5 minutes.  I feel like they both need shirts that they can parade around in saying "I'm the reason Mommy likes wine."  Christmas gift, think about it.  Oh and also since we're talking Christmas gifts, I can always use wine.

Back to the recipe.  So in reading that super awesome book Sugar Salt Fat or whichever order that goes in, I got to reading about the sugar content in well, everything.  Long story short, read the book and be amazed.  So naturally, this includes canned soup.  Nothing reminds me of home more than eating tomato soup and grilled cheese which my dad was amazing at making.  It's been a staple in my life for years.  So naturally, I'd want to find and make a healthier version.  I scoured Pinterest for recipes as well as Google and a couple other places.  Basically, tomatoes, onions garlic, salt, pepper, oregano and whatever else you feel like throwing in there.  I decided to share my recipe because me being me, I look at most recipes and think "Eh....I don't need this, I can figure it out my own."

Sometimes it's awesome, other times it's utterly disastrous.  Then Zach says something along the lines of "Did you actually read the directions all the way through this time?"  And I respond by rolling my eyes and saying "Who do you think I am?  Of course I read the directions."  But by directions, I really mean ingredients so about 15-20 minutes in to whatever it is I'm making...there's an obligatory "F*$%ing ghatdamnit!"  Then without missing a beat Zach says something like "I told you to read the recipe, that's your karma for lying to me about it."

How does he know?!

Tomato Soup!

• 5-6 tomatoes (I prefer on the vine since I'm in Guam and that's the best I can get but beefsteak or roma would probably be ideal).  If you're using those other ones, adjust accordingly to size. Roughly three pounds of tomato
• 1 carton cherry tomatoes
• 1 carton grape tomatoes
• 1 sweet onion
• Olive Oil
• 4 cloves of minced or crushed garlic
• Salt & Pepper to taste
• Vegetable or Chicken broth.  This is optional.  I've made it with and without, but I just made some awesome veggie broth and wanted to use it.  
• Oregano, I dunno, a tablespoon or so?  Whatever works for you.
• Basil  - optional

So, I cut my tomatoes into quarters and de-seeded them with a spoon.  This is optional.  I didn't do it last time, it really made no difference.  I cut my cherry and grape tomatoes in half, no need to remove those seeds, that's tedious and I'm lazy.  Then I chopped the onion up into pieces and laid it all out on a baking sheet covered in foil.  Once again, I'm lazy, less clean up.  

I preheated the oven to 350, drizzled olive oil and minced garlic on top of the tomatoes and onions.  

Popped it in the oven til the tomatoes were mushy and onions were turning translucent.   It took about an hour because there were a lot of tomatoes on that baking sheet.  I turned them over a few times.  Purely preference.  Then I realized after I forgot to season it so I put the salt, pepper and oregano on there, let it cook for another 15 minutes until the juices were starting to pool at the bottom. 

After this was all done, I threw it in the food processor to make the chunks smaller.  It's really all about what you prefer.  After that, I added it to my pot, added my vegetable stock (about 16 ounces if I remember correctly) and turned it on to boil.  After it started boiling, I put it on low to simmer and basically forgot about it because I had other stuff to do like play Candy Crush and take Henry in and out and in and out and in and out.

We paired our soup with our balsamic/Jack Daniels marinated steak I found on Pinterest (of course).  The final product was delicious.  Last time I made it, I threw some brats in there for added deliciousness....it was perfect as was tonight's dinner.  I highly recommend it.

Happy Eating! 

Xoxo

Riley Writes

P.S  You can follow me on Pinterest by going here: http://pinterest.com/sissybug0726/

Home Is Where The Heart Is

I've been giving a lot of thought about the word "home" lately.  I met our new neighbors last night and mentioned I would be going "home" for a short while.  Someone asked me about my travel plans and without thinking I said I was going "home".  "Home to Washington, then home to Idaho and home to Florida.  After which I'll return to my home in Guam."  You're probably thinking "Why does she consider all these places home?"

Hear me out.  What if I'm like Voldemort?  What if pieces of my heart and soul are scattered throughout the states and instead of horcruxes, they're actually people?  Plus I have a nose and I'm not trying to kill any teen wizards.  So I have that going for me.  Plus I rather like my nose.

It makes sense right?  Because home is where your heart is and my heart happens to be all over the place.

Home is flying across oceans to be with your best friend because she needs you and you need her.  It's watching movies and drinking hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows, to help cope with life's unfairness.

Home is where you grew up, where your cherished friends and childhood remains. Memories abound, not always good but mostly wonderful.

Home is where your parents, sisters, niece, nephew, grandmother, aunts, uncles and cousins are.  Where your niece has dubbed you "weechle" and says she misses you on her own accord.  Your family will put up with your crazy notions because they love you.

Home is Monsters, Midget, Sunshine and the Snagglepooch are.  Monsters and Midgets you've seen grow up before your very eyes, start school and become young women.  It's also where you have experienced loss and excruciating pain beyond belief but you were never alone, not for a second

And finally, last but definitely not least, home is where I get to wake up next to the man of my dreams, get my hands nibbled on obnoxiously by my fur children and where I recharge my batteries so I can be ready for anything that life throws at me.  I get to be obnoxious, silly and apologize when I'm being an ass.  I get to feel real, deep love and devotion that I thought only existed in the greatest romances novels of our time.

That's where my home is.

Xoxo
Riley Writes

Ridiculousness and bacon

I have a few other blogs in the making with recipes and horror stories about our a/c going out.  But for now, I leave you with an update.

My Practical Paleo book came in!  Hooray.  I've been waiting for it forever(7 days to be exact!).  The bookstore was really awesome about calling me as soon as it came in because I told them I was leaving the country but not sure when.  Also, it could have been because I called three or four times and they were tired of hearing from me.

Crazy dreams again?  Yep.  They always seem to be particularly crazy when I'm under a lot of stress.  So last night/this morning I dreamed (is that even the right word?) that I was at some sort of fundraiser with a bunch of rich people and a woman who I don't particularly care for.  Then somehow that transpired to me winning something but couldn't find my ticket until it was too late.  I was so depressed I started cooking bacon (like a whole pound because I love bacon) and decided to run an errand.  Go to run my errand and my car miraculously turns into a riding lawnmower...which coincidentally runs out of gas so I text my husband and he doesn't return my texts.  What's a girl to do but sleep on her riding lawn mower in the middle of a street surrounded by wheat fields.

Then I woke up...kind of.  I managed to trip over my suitcase (aptly so since it was laying in the middle of my bedroom floor and I was still pretty asleep), tripping over that sent me running into the wall saying a sleepy obscenity.  After I made it out of the maze I call my bedroom, my eyes were still shut because there were lights on, I managed to walk into the wall next to the bathroom door, saying another obscenity and praying my husband didn't see or hear any of it.

"kjsdakj you didn't give me gas for my lawn mower."  Of course it was jumbled and probably whispery because loud noises don't help you get back to sleep.

"What are you talking about?  Are you okay?  I heard you trip."

"My lawn mower ran out of gas and I was frying bacon.  I had a dream about it."

"I'd say it was alcoholic bacon with as many walls as you ran into on your way to the bathroom."

I did my business, crawled back into bed and all I could muster up was "Have a good day, I love you.  I don't understand why you didn't answer my text and bring my lawnmower gas.  I had to sleep on the lawnmower."

"Don't get mad, it was just a dream babe.  Of course I'd bring you gas for your lawn mower."

"I'm not mad, I just don't understand why you didn't check your phone until 5:40 a.m.  I was in trouble and needed you.  I had to sleep on the lawnmower babe."

He did as he does every morning, kissed me on the forehead (probably to avoid morning/dragon breath) and said he loves me.  Why or how he loves me is an utter mystery.   I'm ridiculous most days.

Xoxo
Riley Writes

Paleo Chicken Pot Pie Recipe

I've been craving me some good ol' fashioned home cooking.  Basically, chicken pot pie.  I love chicken pot pie, it's always held a special place in my heart, the crust, the yummy goodness on the inside and the homey feeling it evokes.  It makes you think of your mother or grandmother.  Or in my case, my aunt and my roommate.  They would make the most delicious chicken pot pie ever.  Maybe it was because it was made with love or laced with crack...one can never be sure.

If you follow this blog occasionally or read my Facebook, you'll know that recently, I've been at war with grains, processed foods and a few other things here and there.  I call it a war because a war is made of battles...and I battle every. single. day.  You probably think I'm joking but let me tell you what...there was a lot of Halloween candy at the commissary today and I accidentally missed breakfast.  Long story short, I'm a candy junkie and a sucker (pun intended) for pastas and breads.

Back to the chicken pot pie.  I scavenged Pinterest as I always do for last minute recipes, I stumbled across tons of paleo chicken pot pie recipes but couldn't decide because they were all labor intensive and I'm incredibly lazy.  I found this one at fedandfit.com and was all "I can totally do this!"  Then I read that it takes about two hours and was all "Hahahahhahaha nope."  In the end and after much internal debate, I decided to stick with it because I was really hungry and really wanted chicken pot pie.

If you've looked at the recipe, you would have noted that it makes 8 individual pies.  We don't need 8 servings, especially since there is just two of us.  Also, I hate coconut milk.  It's a staple in the paleo world but I just can't stand it.  So in my head, I thought "Gee, I can modify this and make it work probably more than likely.  Should I still do it? What if I don't put the coconut milk in it? Do I want to do this?  Yeah, I really want to used my new knife set to chop shit up like a boss."

I baked the pot pie in a 9x13 pan because even though I act like an adult (sporadically), I don't have as many baking pans as I should.

You can look at the recipe on the link.  I made a few substitutions and whatnot so I'll list what I did here.

Crust:
2 cups almond flour/almond meal (same thing)
1/3 cup coconut oil
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 tablespoon of water
1 teaspoon sea salt, I used mine from a grinder but also, I didn't measure it.  I eyeball it because...I have an eyeball to do so.
1 egg -  for the egg wash.

- You're supposed to pulse the dry ingredients, then gradually add the coconut oil which should still be in it's solid form.  After all that's said and done, add your tablespoon of water gradually.  Except mine wasn't gradual, because I'm a rebel on a time crunch.  Then wrap it up in some saran wrap and store it in the fridge until you're ready to use it.

Innards:
1 whole white/yellow onion chopped
4 carrots chopped into however you feel like doing it
1/3 bell pepper chopped
1 can of low sodium broth - you're supposed to make your own according to the recipe that you most definitely read but I made some once and it was awful so I used a can. Whatevs, I'm busy. < Facebooking and whatnot.
2 chicken breasts
1 teaspoon or tablespoon of olive oil
Salt & Pepper

I baked my boneless, skinless chicken breasts at 350 until about 145 degrees.me.  Except, right before, I realized that I had still left the overnight oven cleaner in the oven for about a week.  We had to take a short time out to scrub it so naturally, that added to my estimated time.  After all that was said and done I started the chicken.  While that was baking, I sauteed the onions until they were translucent.  After that, I added the carrots and bell peppers into the pan with the onions and added the broth.  Boiled that for a bit until the chicken was done, chopped the chicken, added that to the pan and added some almond meal to thicken it up.  It didn't get thick like a regular pot pie, I boiled away most of the liquid so it was somewhat of a soup consistency.

I added it all to the baking pan, then utilized the handsome studly man I married to help me roll out the crust between two pieces of wax paper and flipped it onto the filling.  There was no bottom crust but I was surprised at how much I didn't care.  I slathered the egg onto the crust and put it in the oven at 350 and kept it in there until the crust browned.

It was delicious and even the husband said so.  I will definitely be making it again.

Happy eating!
Xoxo
Riley Writes

Books & Chia Seeds

I'm a fairly simple person, at least I'd like to think so.  I don't require a lot to keep me happy, I think I'm hilarious so I'm pretty great at entertaining myself.  A good book does wonders for my psyche and generally, seeing my husband can turn even the foulest of moods into a smile.

So just imagine how excited I am that I visited the library today!  And that I'm going to yoga later.  Oh and that I'm making some of that amazing homemade raspberry chia seed lemonade.  It's fantastic and you should try it.  (You know you want to.  Why, you ask?  Because chia seeds are nature's super food.  Fancy little seeds that have no taste, are rich in Omega 3's, help keep you hydrated and have tons of fiber.)  You can read more about them here: Wellness Mama  and here Nuts.com.

We invested in one of those hand juicer things and I am entirely way more excited than I should be about it.  I know you're probably thinking "Jeez, get with the program...we all have fancy electric juicers that also weave baskets underwater."  I said I was a fairly simple person.  I made homemade orange juice for my husband yesterday.  It was perfection in a jar.  A jar, you may ask...yes well.  I happen to save all my jars because I feel guilty throwing them out.  My super awesome neighbor also went above and beyond and bought me a bag of lemons so I can make said lemonade!  How sweet is that?!  I know, right?  She's pretty legit. I think this time around, I may make blueberry lemonade.  The possibilities are endless!

Another thing I'm pretty ridiculously excited about is I finally bought a hardback copy of Practical Paleo by Diane Sanfillippo.  I bought the book for my Nook and it's great, but there are a lot of bullets, charts and things of that nature that don't transfer too well to an e-book.  It will be here in two weeks!  Until that time, I visited the library and stocked up on eye and brain candy.  Seriously, the Dewey Decimal System brings a huge smile to my face.  I remember learning about it when I was in grade school and thinking to myself "This is awesome."  I got my kicks out of looking for things in a card catalog and writing down the numbers.  Ah, the good old days.

Lately I've been reading a lot of books about the food industry, food in general and the effects it has on your body.  My most recent read is Sugar Salt Fat by Michael Moss.  It's about the food industry and they way they make their products to leave us wanting more.  (Hello Spaghettio addiction)  It's eye opening, mind boggling and it's definitely helping me think twice about I've been putting in my body.

I also checked out a book by Michael Pollan called In Defense Of Food - An Eater's Manifesto because well, I'm an eater.  I love food (clearly) and I think it's important that I start treating my body the way it should be treated.  I'll probably write a review of it after I'm finished, in case anyone was interested.  And if not, well you can skip that entry :)

Well, I'm off to go lift heavy things (hopefully).  

Xoxo

Riley Writes

The Little Can Opener Who Can't

Once upon a time there was a can opener purchased from the BX (which is short for Base Exchange, which I learned recently because I've only been living here for a year and a half).  The can opener was soooo awful, its owners purchased another one because it broke within a month.  They felt bad though so they kept it for good measure.  The new can opener was shiny and came with a bottle cap remover.  It was the loveliest in all the land of their kitchen.  Until one day, it rode into battle with a child who had no idea how to use it.  The can opener was no match for Spaghettios and died an awful death, parts flying everywhere.  It's master was saddened by the sudden loss but alas, she moved on with her life and bought a much newer, much safer can opener that lifts the lid instead of cutting into it.  She was elated at the thought of never having to worry about cutting herself on a sharp lid again.

This is literally the worst can opener I have ever owned in my life.  I cannot operate it for the life of me.  If we aren't friends on Facebook, (which we probably are but I'm going to post the picture anyways because it needs repeating)...I digress and forgot where I was going but here:

Ten minutes, a pair of needle nose pliers, a fork, a butter knife and a flat head screwdriver.  Oh and my new can opener too.  It's one of those safe cut ones or whatever.  Anyways, somehow that incredible guy I married figured it out and showed me multiple times before ^ this happened.   He's amazing, have I mentioned that?  I also would love to say that this is an isolated incident, unfortunately it's not.

So tonight, I'm making paleo spaghetti but of course (actually I was going to make paleo zucchini ravioli but that's a story for another night), I need to get the tomato sauce and paste open (since I make my own spaghetti sauce).  Zach and I are doing our ballet in the kitchen (not literally of course) and he's doing trying to make juice.  I think his spidey senses tingled because as soon as I opened the drawer, it was as if he knew what was going to happen.  Not wanting to recreate the picture above, he offered to do it for me because he's my husband and manly and stuff.  But in more of a "I don't want you mutilating those cans" kinda way.

"I don't know if it will work because the cans are too small."  "I wish I would have read the directions."  Then I piped in that I read the directions and he just looked at me because to be honest, I didn't understand the pictures.  Who puts pictures of directions other than Ikea?  Be serious Ecko.  < That's the brand so you know never to buy can openers from them at the BX in Guam.  

Then this happened: 

You're probably wondering why he looks angry.  It may have been because a certain someone was taunting him about not being able to get the can opener to open the cans and then I snapped a picture because I couldn't stop laughing.  By this time, I realized we had been defeated and decided to take my cans over to my neighbor to open.  

Then this!  Happiness is a neighbor who lets you borrow a good can opener until you buy a new one.  Hooray!  Dinner can commence!

Of course, then there is a little issue of it tasting absolutely awful because I'm 97% positive that the tomato paste was bad.  I don't know...does tomato paste normally have a layer of rusted orange color? 

Zach - "Babe, is it supposed to taste like this?"

"It tastes a little off to me, I don't think I'm going to eat it."

Zach - "Seriously?  You put all this work into it.  Now I feel bad.  What's the expiration date on the bottom of the can?"

"Ehh...let me look.  It's not there and don't feel bad."

Zach - "Rachele, seriously, there is no expiration date whatsoever?  Did you even look at the top/bottom of the can?  I suppose if you aren't eating it, I should be scared since you eat anything."

"Hmmm, it says 2004 (dramatic pause as I realize I can't read properly nor can I speak math)...AHHHHH sorry, I can't read.  There's a one in there. 2014.  Cool your jets, we aren't getting food poisoning tonight.  Or we might if we eat it.  I don't know.  There's a chance maybe."

"Wait...did you just say I eat everything?"

Zach made a turkey sandwich and I ate a nectarine and neither of us have food poisoning.  Yet.

Xoxo

Riley Writes

The ants go marching one by one...

I think the one think I will not miss in any way, shape or form is rainy season.  I love the rain, don't get me wrong.  It reminds me of home.  Fall, winter, spring and summer in Washington.  Just kidding, only the first 3 and a half seasons.  But really, I love the rain.  I especially love it here because it goes away fast, it's generally warm and it's incredibly relaxing.

What I don't miss and/or love are the horrendous ant infestations after a really hard rain.  Case in point:  We live on a hill...last year it was pretty rainy and I walked outside to see "black" tomatoes on my vines as well as dying roots from the excess water.  Upon closer examination I see that these "black" tomatoes are actually covered in itty bitty ants.  Nevermind the fact that I had ants under my stove, in my dishwasher, my potted plants and just about everywhere you could possibly imagine.  We eradicated the issue with lots of traps, pesticides, voodoo magic and the blood of a chicken.  It was lovely.

A few days ago, I saw two ants on the floor while I was scrubbing my grout.  Whatever.  Not that big of a deal.  Then I saw an ant in the trash can.  Just one, which I thought was odd but I looked high and low without seeing any others.

Yesterday while I was at the BX...it went from being overcast to having water up to my ankles in a matter of 10 minutes.  It should have given me some sort of inkling.  So I should have figured it was going to happen.  Driving home at about 10 MPH, I noted how deep the water was on the streets below us (because we live on a hill) and remembered how bad it was last year...(I didn't realize our voodoo magic had worn off, Silly Rachele).  No ants though, we're in the clear.

Fast forward to today:  "Zach, make sure to let the babies out and feed them before you go into work, I'll be home soon(ish).  You're the best, love you!"

Then this happened:

Ugh.  He was right too.  There were ants all over the place!  All in the expensive dog food we buy (because apparently I'm not the only one in the family with food sensitivities.)  I saw where my awesome husband had waged war in the kitchen.  I literally spent in excess of three hours scrubbing my floors, not three days ago!  Not, the floors are littered with the corpses of ants.  Awesome.  So I do what any housewife would do (I think)  and I spray them more.  Then sweep the remnants up.  However not wanting to be outdone, I can't seem to sweep them out of the grout.  Of course.

And yeah, I'm pretty sure I got crop dusted while waiting for my doctor's appointment...

I think today may be a long day.

Xoxo

Riley Writes 

Why are my dreams so crazy?

It's four a.m here in Guam.  I'm going to apologize right now for the spelling errors, non existent grammar and other thing because my poor eyes have not yet adjusted to the screen and also, I'm still kinda half asleep.

I had a bad dream.

I don't know if you remember the entry Nightmares of the not so horrific nature (read it, you may wet your pants having a laugh at my expense) so obviously, there's a theme to this entry.

I think this is what I get for watching Dave Chappelle, reading CNN and browsing Pinterest right before bed.  So I suppose I had this coming. I don't even know where to begin.

My dream starts out with ordering a round shots for my friends and I.  The bartender was kind of a douche and charged us 35 dollars for lower end shots.  I go to grab my wallet and when I come back, I notice my friend is drunk (I don't know how that happened since the dream just started) and she has the bartender by the neck of the shirt and is telling him that not only is he a shitty bartender, but she hates her life.

*Fast forward through the removal of us from the bar, paying my bar tab with Monopoly money, and wandering the streets of Guam/Puerto Rico/Pensacola while subsequently trying to get my friend to get her shit together because she's leaving her bags (because we just went shopping?) everywhere.  Here's where it actually gets interesting.

In a fit, my darling friend (who I'll name Veronica since I don't actually know this person in real life) takes off running while shedding her purse/shopping bags/leftovers on a random table.  After our other friend (whom I also don't know in real life) subdue her, I go back to the table to find a bunch of guys sitting at said table.  We converse for a little bit, they say they didn't take anything and before I know it, I look up and there is a tall Korean girl with too much makeup, a fake weave and an attitude staring down at us.

"Hey you girl want to be with boys? I have someting fo you!"

And then she angrily throws her McDonalds fried shrimp, still in the box, at my head.  Yeah, just take that in for a minute.  Of course, I'm not to be outdone so I calmly take my shoes off, set my purse down and say something to the affect of "Since y'all said you haven't stolen anything, you can watch my shit while I beat a bitch."

There was one opposition but the others were cheering me on because this crazy bitch was provoking a lion.  And seriously, who throws their fried shrimp at a random woman?  And why does she have all this makeup on?  All I know is, I'm about to wipe the floor with her (not knowing if it would cause more harm that good.)  So I start walking up the spiral staircase as I catch her halfway running up to the midway landing (this building is literally stairs) and she starts taking off her weave and fake eyelashes while provoking me in broken English.

"Oh girl, you want to be with boys, I mess you up.  Lemme take of my weave because I am going to keel you."

I use this opportunity to grapple with her, take her down in a sleeper hold/her head in a leg lock while she's biting my under thigh.  Who does this crazy biatch think she is?

After subduing her, I check her pulse to make sure she's still alive (which she is because I'm no killer and I was rather tuckered after fighting to get my legs around her neck).  Her makeup was off, her eyebrows removed, she was slumped up against a wall.  Sleeping peacefully, I might add. I decided enough was enough.

I walk back outside, answering questions to curious questions about what exactly went on in there.  "Did you kill her?"

"Hell no, do I look like the type of person who could do that?  I just taught her a mere lesson in fucking with people you don't know."

Then the one opposing gentleman rushes in to check on her and by this time, she's awake.  He brings her outside where she acts apologetic, crying a bit to heighten just exactly how bad I maimed her (which wasn't at all.  Not a scratch on her).  Being the bigger person, I gather my things (mostly because this time I feel like I really will be the bejesus out of her) and continue to my friends who have left me because I said I'd catch up.

I walk about 15 steps and this bitch throws her wallet at the back of my head.  I scream back to the group "I hope y'all saw that because I'm really going to fuck shit up now."

So the gloves come off and while we're in a heated tug of war over her wallet while she keeps screaming "It no hurt, it just cardboard!  Why you so angry white guh? Because I give you something? Oh you no like shrimp? Dat's okay, I beat you up instead."  I reach in and grab a five to give to the homeless man ( I didn't say this was a politically correct dream) who's running by, so maybe he decides to mug her.  Then he does mug her, which gives me ample time to run away but I don't get far.

And then (this is where Pinterest comes up and I don't even watch Dr. Who...yet anyways)  Daleks (which I'm not even sure what they really do, I'm sorry Whovians.) show up and start unloading their inner machine guns while I take to the ground.  When I get up, I scream "COVER ME!" even though everything is peaceful and no one is around...except Doug...and Skeeter.  Yeah that Doug and Skeeter.

And this is why I can't seem to sleep.  Why did she throw her shrimp at me?  Sweet Jesus.

Riley Writes

Zucchini noodles for us all! Hooray!

My cravings for pasta haven't subsided even though I have been steering away from it.  The other night I was craving spaghetti something fierce.  I asked Zach if he would make dinner and immediately regretted my decision to do so.  I figured he would stop by the commissary, pick up a frozen pizza and some of my other favorite non paleo items and we would have a feast of unhealthy epic proportions because I have loose morals and no self control.  All in all, that probably would have never actually happened.  It would have been tacos.

Instead I asked him to pick up spaghetti sauce and zucchini because I was finally going to make zucchini noodles!

All in all, it was incredibly easy, mostly labor free dinner that yielded awesome results.  I was able to eat dinner, get full and not feel disgusting after I ate my "noodles".

Basically, I julienned (is that the right word?) my zucchini, sliced it long ways with my mandolin slicer and then sliced it in to matchsticks.  Made my meatballs with some herbs (don't forget the sea salt and pepper as I always seem to do!) and put them in a covered pan to cook.  I heated up my skillet with some olive oil and garlic for the zucchini, cooked them til they were almost translucent and of course, didn't take a picture.

I used 4 medium zucchinis and a little over a pound of hamburger.  Be mindful of the sauce you choose.  Look at the ingredients.  If you can't pronounce it, it's probably not a whole/real food.  You can make your own spaghetti sauce by searching for recipes on Pinterest because I don't have that to provide to you.

So that's pretty much it.  Not my most amazing post but you get the picture :)

I'm cooking up some big things in my kitchen lately.  Stay tuned.
Xoxo
Riley Writes

You're so sweet, potato.

Thou art sweet, like a sweet potato treat. 

Three guesses on what this post is about.  I'll give you a cookie...or a sweet potato "brownie" if you get it right.  

Okay, well I'm sure that wasn't too difficult.  Anyways, let's talk about sweet potatoes!  I have never really liked them.  Candied yams at Thanksgiving?  No thanks.  My love affair with sweet potatoes actually started with my dog having terrible gas.  I know, gross.  In an effort to soothe the savage beast's disgusting rear end, I had to tackle the grains in his diet.  After reading a ton of stuff about how dog's have an issue processing grains and how most dog foods have grain by-products and fillers (It's funny because humans are the same way), I was kind of disgusted and upset that I was unknowingly feeding my babies foods that upset their tummies. 

Long story short, I decided to start making sweet potato treats for them instead of the treats that made it smell as if something had died in our house.  As the smells of baking sweet potato chips wafted through the house, I couldn't help but be curious why they went so crazy for them.  They would literally sit in the kitchen waiting for me to pull them out of the oven.  (Then again, my dogs are weird....they dig fruits and veggies more than the store bought treats. Did I mention they're weird?)

So after snacking on a couple (the whole tray), I finally realized what I had been missing! I couldn't stop myself.  They were the best thing ever.  Fast forward to now when I am personally tackling the grains in my diet!  I find that when I eat healthier, I start to crave healthy things.  I shop around the perimeter of the grocery store to prevent buying things loaded with crap.  I can't say that it doesn't mean I never buy crap....but I try to avoid it as often as possible.  Sweet potatoes are amazing because they are interchangeable with regular potatoes and if you eat paleo of sorts, you should know that regular potatoes are a no-no.

Anyways, the whole point of this blog entry is to share the super amazing, clean eating paleo sweet potato "brownies" I made last night.  Obviously they had to be good if I'm taking time out of my busy schedule to blog about them.

Whipped out the Ninja - boom!  Sweet potato brownies.  Obviously, I should point that they weren't actually brownies...because that is NOT paleo.  The texture was a tad different and if I would have kept them in the oven longer, I'm sure they would have hardened up a bit more but I liked them just the same.  I found the recipe on good ol'  Pinterest.  It's super easy and light which makes you feel less guilty about eating it as a treat.  I didn't have dark chocolate however so I added regular chocolate chips which makes this semi-paleo but obviously it's at your discretion. 

Sweet Potato "Brownies"

• 1 sweet potato
• 3 eggs, whisked
• ¼ cup Coconut Oil, melted
• ⅓ cup raw honey
• ½ cup dark chocolate chips
• 3 tablespoons coconut flour
• 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
• ¼ teaspoon baking powder
• ¼ teaspoon vanilla extract
• ¼ teaspoon cinnamon
• pinch of salt

Make sure to boil your sweet potato so it's easier to mash.  Add all of your wet ingredients, blend...add the dry stuff, blend again. Bake that shit at 350 for 35 minutes or so and pull it out.  Let it cool off until it's cooled off  enough to not scorch the roof of your mouth or until it's cold.  Personal preference.  I liked it warm.  Enjoy your guiltless treat!

Also, enjoy reading about the health benefits of sweet potatoes here and here.  It'll make you feel even less guilty after clicking the links and reading!

Happy eating!

Xoxo,

Riley Writes.

I think I figured it out....

Two months....ewww.  That's the last time I posted.  And I think in that last post, I said something along the lines of "It won't be this long the next time I write."   Gosh, I'm such a liar.  By the way, did I mention those pants look fabulous on you?  *Snickering.*   Okay, actually, they probably do look good or else I'd see you on People Of Walmart.  Just let me have this small joke.

I had a revelation a few months back.  I wanted to share my knowledge and insight about thing I was learning in hopes that others would like to learn along with me.

Back when I was still writing on the confoundidt contraption of a blog, I was being extremely and incredibly healthy, eating lots of Paleo meals and just being all around awesome by going to the gym more.  I felt awesome, was taking my thyroid pills and constantly pushing myself for new PRs (personal records) which I was totally attaining.  Then I thought I was pregnant...but I wasn't (obviously) and I got off track.  I was upset, with a small side of depression and anger that my body isn't working like it should.  

I let my small "setback"  undo everything I was working towards.  I just kinda....gave up on myself.  I didn't care if I felt crummy after eating all that pasta and I sure as hell didn't want to go to the gym.  I lost weight and was excited to see the numbers go down...but it wasn't fat, it was just all that awesome muscle that lets me back squat 110, deteriorating.   (I know, nice PR drop...Hey, I'm proud!)

Yesterday, I finally went after a month and a half of not doing anything, making excuses and such.  I pulled a muscle while trying to do something I was easily doing prior to my sabbatical of self pity.  It was completely my fault, my pride got in the way of my body saying "No!" and I spent the rest of my evening complaining to my amazing husband who didn't once complain about me complaining.

So a few days ago I started taking my thyroid medicine again and then it hit me like a ton of bricks...instead of focusing on something that may or may not happen (because obviously it's working) < (that was sarcasm)...I decided maybe I should focus more on doing the things I want to and bettering myself.  Like school and more Crossfit and *drummmmm rolllllll plllllleaaaaase!*

I'm going to make Semi Paleo Cooking channel on YouTube!  Say whaaa?  Yup.  It has been decided.  Except I've never made a video before that wasn't my dogs acting like dumbasses or...ahem...yep, that's it basically.  I like to think I'm funny sometimes...and most of the Paleo cooking tutorials are super serious and it's 5-15 minutes of boring talk.  Sometimes I learn things though so that's good.  But I'm also not super serious and I am also not a good cook...so if I can make it edible, you can definitely do it!

I will answer questions, say things like "Should you be in the kitchen?  Assholes, out of the kitchen before I make purses out of you!  Here is some mo-fo-ing coconut flour I made from my own mo-fo-ing coconut tree, ya dig?"  There will also be inappropriate jokes about beating your meat and such. You know, things of that nature.  I'll be using recipes from books I've read, Pinterest and blogs I like to follow.  I'll only be doing recipes that I've done before or that I have a feeling are going to be good.

So, give me about a month and I promise I'll post my first video.  I'll be vigilant!  I'm going to get this done!

Xoxo
Riley Writes

To Err is Human, To Not Blog is Blasphemy!

So my last post was exactly 24 days ago.  Holy shit.  So I suppose I should do a quick recap on the things that are going on in my life, if you are so inclined to read it. :)  I've seen this done in other blogs so I think I'm going to follow suit the with format and hope for the best!

Doing:  Lots of Crossfit.  This past month has been a whirlwind of Crossfit Invictus.  It's been absolutely amazing, dare I say, life changing?  Zach and I were introduced to it by a friend and I have fallen in love since the first workout.  It focuses on strength, cardio and skill building all in one session.  Couple that with our Wendler's 5/3/1 Olympic Powerlifting and you have a short workout that produces amazing results.  I haven't lost any weight yet, but that's because I am trading my body fat for muscle...so far it's been even.  I've been thinning out (Damn you pizza, beer and champagne!) but I've noticed the big difference in my legs. They're more toned, muscular and they definitely are helping out with my deadlifts and back squats.

Eating:  Lots of chia seeds and paleo foods.  I know, I sound like a broken record but I really have noticed a difference in the way I feel since switching back to paleo.  Of course, it's not a 100% all of the time but it's slowly getting there.  It's extremely difficult to eat paleo on an island where your $200+ in produce goes bad in 3 days.

Work:  Will soon be coming to an end.  I put in my notice last week  *Gasp!*  "But why, Rachele? Whhhhyyy?"  Going to work for 3-4 hours is an all day ordeal.  It takes me anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour to drive to work not to make my money back in gas.  A lot of places around here charge a 10% gratuity included with dinner because most people around here don't tip.  Luckily for me, my bosses give everyone an hourly wage however, that's what goes to my gas to get down there.  Not to mention, with Zach's schedule being so erratic, I don't get to see him often because we work opposite shifts.  I didn't want to quit, but sometimes (as I'm learning slowly but surely) you have to do what's best for you, even if you don't like it.

Reading:  After finally finding the library on base, I checked out seven whole books!  I have three weeks to read them all and for those of you that know me, you know it will not be impossible.  I've been reading a bit lately, here and there but I was in the mood for some really good reading.  So maybe I went a little overboard but I have a feeling since I don't work tonight, I will utilize the time to finish reading Waiter Rant.  If you've ever worked in the Food & Beverage industry, it's a must read.  I appreciate it even more, living here in Guam where you rarely make a 20% tip on anything. (Except from my regulars whom I adore.)  I have also noticed the older I get, the more I'm taking an interest in religion...not just one religion but multiple ones.  My drive to visit new places and understand new things is taking hold.  Including, what makes people tick, what makes them happy, and, you guessed it, religion.  Which I think is partly the reason I checked out seven books and bought three for my Nook.  I think overboard is a good adjective.

I realize that with my New Years resolution was to write more and I have been in the lacking for that.  I think it's because I have come to the conclusion that I'd like to start writing a book...but I'm not sure what to write about.  So, as for you, my most wonderful friends and readers, this is where I need advice.  What should I write about?  I'm lost as far as that goes.  So..help me, please?  Will a picture of a kitten help?

I'm not even a cat person nor do I really like cats.  I don't know why I just did that.

Xoxo
Riley Writes