Gearing up for the forced move and feeling a bit like a deadbeat myself, I also decided that it would be good to get rid of the “old” items from my past and replace them with “new and improved” items when I get situated in my new life in the big city.  Four big piles were made of all of my worldly belongings left in my old life:

1/ Things to take – this includes such items as photo albums, diplomas and all the personal things that no one other than me wants anyway.

2/ Things to donate – anything that I haven’t worn in six months more more or even looked at. Things I had packed from my old house that were still in boxes and never unpacked from four years ago.

3/ Things to toss – Things that not even a homeless person would wear or use

4/ Things to sell on Craigslist – my kayak I can’t lift by myself and have used five times in the past two years, furniture that I have no place for, washer/dryer, fridge, old school tv that no one would actually pay money for (but works). You get the idea.

My beloved Kayak - in the snow

I strategically place these items on Craigslist. The kayak, since a sporting good, gets replies from people who seem rather normal. Someone comes and snags the kayak rather quickly (as it was a good deal). I’ll miss you, kayak!

Where it starts to go downhill are the other items. For example, the refrigerator.

Ad: “Stainless Steel / Black Side by side 27 cubic feet. Dimensions — blah blah blah. Price: $ / You haul.”

Reply to ad from “Savyshopper”: “Do you ship internationally and is there any extra charge?”

My reply: “Dear Savy. Why yes, I can take the refrigerator straight down to the local UPS store, find a box, pack it up with some shipping tape, place a stamp on the outside of the box and ship it anywhere you want. Just let me know. I do charge extra for sending to places like the moon or Uranus. Take that anyway you’d like. Don’t you have anything better to do but spam? Really? If I were you, I’d re-examine my New Year’s  Resolutions and move “Get a Life” closer to the top of the list. Thanks again for looking.”

Next was the tv and stand – which were listed for free. Free is where the freaks are.

Ad: “42″ TV with stand. 11 years old. Works great. You haul. Bring friend, as it is heavy.”

Reply from “Uh-huh:”  ”I’d like the tv. Can you hold it?”

Since I don’t have much experience with selling on Craigslist, I agreed. The next day, he called twice, got lost, then never showed up to get it. Uh-huh was MIA. So, in all fairness, I went with the next person to respond, being careful to read what they wrote as not to reply to ads that could have been written by killers. I read about the Craigslist killer, and as a result, have heightened paranoia about strangers coming to my home, especially when I am flying solo. This could also be deemed ‘common sense.’

Next reply from “ShoppingSavy:” “Do you ship internationally and are there any extra charges?”

Oh boy.

It went downhill a little from there at times, but I finally caught on to those to reply back to, and those simply to ignore.

Anyway – the “give-aways” ended up being given away with no run-ins with killers, and I am finished with the Craiglist’s “world of nuts and fruits.” Next time, I’ll just donate everything and use the tax deduction. Although dealing with some of the loonies who responded to my ads did make me feel slightly better about my own sanity, even in my chaotic current conditions.

And here he is – in all of his Chocolate Labrador glory.

What a Mug

He was in quite a somber mood this evening and wasn’t sure if he wanted his picture taken. Right after this, he collapsed, almost to say….. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Lounging

In actuality, I had a lot better things to do, but just didn’t want to do them. We’ve all been there, right?

My photo snapping was boring him from the very beginning. If it doesn’t have anything to do with a tennis ball, squirrel or kitty-cat, he could care less.

Downward Dog

Here he is practicing a bit of yoga with a “downward dog move.”

Oh so bored

By this time he was working himself up into a full-blown state of boredom and let me know how he really felt with a big yawn.

A Day in the Life

I’m not sure who has more gray at this point – him or me. Wait, I know the answer to that. Do they make a shade of Grecian Formula for dogs?

Wino-dog

And finally, here’s his “I’ve had enough” look, which also doubles as the “Will you take me outside now” look. Nice way to end the photo shoot of the canine kind. Now I’m off to actually get all the tasks accomplished that I need to get done before tomorrow. I tend to work better under pressure. Will put a lot more effort on the “procrastination” resolution tomorrow. Wait, that’s procrastinating, isn’t it?

Great Message

It’s that time of the year again – time to ‘resolve’ that you are going to make positive changes and proceed to tear off like a bull out of the gate in a Texas rodeo for about the first week or so, only to fall back into those oh-so- comfortable patterns, and hence, set yourself up to fail.

Yes, this is me we’re talking about and this is turning into to more of a yearly ritual than resolution. Each year I start to entertain the “resolutions” that roll around in my head. They don’t quite make it to paper because, let’s face it, once you write something down, it’s real instead of just a thought. First and foremost, losing 10 pounds is the resolution that keeps creeping up, each and every year, without any sort of migration to becoming crossed off and completed. Next!

So – why should this year be different? I have things I know I need to do – for my own little healthy sake. And I have other things I need to do for my own well being’s sake. And then there are the things I just can’t seem to get motivated to stick to. Herein lies the problem.

Scrolling through the Daily Press – their listed top 10 New Year’s Resolutions come as no surprise: 1/ Diet 2/ Exercise 3/ Stop Drinking 4/ Don’t Procrastinate. You’ll have to take a look for yourself. Other than quitting smoking (don’t do it, therefore no need to quit) and stop cursing (why would I do that??), my resolutions look like the masses.

The trick is going to be finding some dangling carrots to 1/ get me moving and 2/ keep me going. Positive motivators never seem to work. It’s not like I can trick myself by telling “me” that if I lose “x” number of pounds that I’ll buy myself that gadget or golf clubs or cute pair of shoes, because let’s face it I’ll just come up with some sort of excuse to buy whatever it is anyway. Zero willpower. I can pile up all of the fitness gadgets I have bought in the past — P90X, kettle bells, Garmin GPS watches, Nike+shoes, Wii Fit – it goes on and on and on.

Thing is, it’s easy to start. A lot of people have great intentions when they start, yours truly included. Trick is to keep with it – and push through when I don’t necessarily feel like keeping on the path of the righteous. What I need is something to scare myself silly. Go on national television in a bikini perhaps? No – that’s extreme and I don’t want to be responsible for scaring a nation of children (although it might be a good lesson for those little buggers to learn the hard way). I can’t get on the Biggest Loser since those people have a little more than 10 to go. What I need is a personal trainer, preferably one that was a former drill Sargent or really angry Navy Seal who won’t let me slack and will push me where I need to go to lose my love handles. But where does one find such a beast?

Suggestions, of course, are always welcome in situations like this. Until then, I will continue gearing up to get on my “fitness roll” which is going to start any day now. I can hear those resolutions screaming at me, just not loud enough.

Keys of Freedom

Freedom came yesterday afternoon in the form of a girl driving a large Fedex truck in a snow storm. And I will be forever grateful for her efforts. Since the beau ran off with my keys in his pocket on Sunday morning, I had been a prisoner in my own home. Seriously, I was like Lindsay Lohan on house arrest or something. All I was missing was an ankle bracelet and a stint in rehab.

It was looking grim at one point, after the snow started to fall close to noon today and was steadily picking up steam as the day progressed. I was losing all hope at one point; and Plan B (snow shoes and dog sled) wasn’t looking like it was going to be a viable option. The dog was starting to look slightly like a chicken leg when I heard the sound. The sound of a truck on the road. Hope springs eternal.

The dog/chicken leg wasn’t barking though — so no one was pulling into the driveway. Instead, when I looked out – she was running down the driveway, with my package in hand. Leaving it in the front door and getting the hell out of there, I only heard her yell, “Happy New Year, ” as she scurried off back down the snowy driveway. Guess she didn’t want to take the chance of getting stuck.

Tearing the package open, I found my keys. No love note from the beau, mind you, but the keys were there.  I was so happy, I immediately packed up the dog and hit the town to stock up on all the things I had been dreaming of since the moment I realized I was left stranded.

Snowy Roads

Braving the roads, which were getting a bit sketchy by this time, we made it to town and loaded up. We were now more like William Wallace without the scary war paint and tragic ending. After picking up supplies, we then returned to our snowy hideout (note, it is no longer a prison since escape is possible) as the snow continued to fall.  We made that run just in the nick of time, apparently, as we were sliding a bit on the homecoming.  Plans for a happy ending were in sight though.

And what did I risk life and limb for?

Crab and chardonnay, of course.

Imprisoned WineSnob

The one thing I can say is that I won’t take transportation for granted ever again – public or private. The ability to get ones self to the wine shop is very important – more important than I had given it credit for in the past.

And you know what they say – you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

Lesson learned.

Day 1 – Sunday: Didn’t think it was such  a big deal, and plus, I have a lot to do around here packing up. Pouted that I couldn’t make it to the local market to pick up crab (which, by the way, was on sale), and proceeded to drink the last bottle of wine in the house in protest. Got nothing done in spite of my forced isolation.

Cooling Off

Day 2 – Monday: Started taking inventory on the food situation. Keys, said the beau, had been Fedex’d and I should see them by Tuesday.

In a sort of panic about the ration situation, I began to eat everything left in the house that could not run away. That included a half stick of salami, which was not the best idea I’ve had.  Also worried about the wood I have left to burn, I went on a burning frenzy and got the house up to a balmy 74* – which is reminiscent of Bermuda, but in reality, I’m still immobilized in this arctic tundra. The dog had to go out and lay in the snow to cool off at one point. I think this whole “using up the supplies” element is the psychological warfare derived from knowing you can’t go anywhere, even if you want to.

Day 3 – Tuesday: Visions of freedom are starting to take effect and my new mission is to stalk the Fedex person. Every engine-type sound I hear fills me with a glimmer of hope and I dash to the door, only to realize it’s a resident neighborhood redneck just passing by. I think I’m getting delirious. At one point I thought I heard banjos.

Not only am I now starting to act like Tom Cruise in Castaway, I also might start to smell like him. My shampoo supply has run out. This, and the fact that I am completely out of the nectar of the Gods (wine), is turning this into a dire situation. Someone should probably alert adult protection services if I am not rescued by this afternoon.

Just in case something should happen and the keys somehow don’t make it (I say this as I watch the snow fall in big clumps out of the sky), I am coming up with Plan B to get out of here for provisions. So far, all I’ve got as a means of transportation are a pair of snow shoes, a Labrador and an inherent need to restock the wine cellar.

Stay tuned.

Snowy Treehouse Prison

Hopefully everyone had a nice holiday and Santa was good to you all. Our holiday was very low-key.  With my housing situation coming to a permanent close very shortly, I have spent more of my time in panic mode than in holiday mode, attempting to move my life, mostly during snowy conditions. This, my friends, is what happens when you procrastinate. Just ask the beau – he’ll be happy to tell you all about it.

Since a person cannot pack, divide and toss one’s personal items 24/7, Christmas seemed like the perfect diversion needed to take my mind off of my so-called life, if only for a day. Plus, I didn’t want to be the Grinch that I was very much feeling like.

The beau’s Mom makes a killer feast for at least 20 people, when there is just the four of us. This also makes for extreme amounts of leftovers. Like my family, the beau’s family eats holiday dinner rather early, so it’s more like a Christmas lunch than dinner, just with a lot more food that you would expect at a lunch, unless it was a buffet, of course.  Since we ate at approximately 1:30 p.m., by 2:30 p.m. the beau was ready to vamoose and help me pack up my Treehouse. Diversion over. Back to reality but this time with a full gut.

Back at the treehouse, we got little accomplished, although mentally we went through things that could be used elsewhere and agreed on things that should be tossed. The tossed/Goodwill pile is the biggest of them all. Starting over and buying new things is just part of the therapy process. My kind of therapy, that is. Out with the old and in with the new. We had decided that we would really get busy packing up things on Sunday since both of us were in some sort of post-turkey tryptophan coma, and plus, we wanted to watch the Cowboys get beat (sorry all you Dallas fans out there).

What we weren’t counting on was the blizzard we woke up to on Sunday morning. At first it was a light snow, kind of nice, and we watched the flakes fall as we sipped on coffee and contemplated breakfast options (read: no food in the house). By the time we got to the nearest breakfast establishment (Gordy’s Truck Stop – you can’t make this stuff up), it was a white out. With no signs of it stopping, and the beau being a responsible father and business owner, he made the decision to pack what was ready and make the 1.5 hour drive back to his house.

It was a scramble, but within about 30 minutes, he was packed up and rode off into a scene that would have made the Donner party think twice.

Firepit, lots of snow & blue skies

Forty minutes after that, the sun came out and there were blue skies. This is just my luck. Not to be deterred, I decided I would make a run to the store for provisions (did I mention there is no food in the house), come back and make the most out of my ‘found day.’

No sooner did I ask the dog if he wanted to go for a ride (and got the head-cock, ears up response) did I realize that my keys to the car were nowhere to be found. I looked everywhere and then it hit me: the beau still had them. He had driven to breakfast, came back, parked and then raced around in a panic trying to get loaded up and simply forgot he had them.

One phone call later confirmed that they car keys were safely in his jacket pocket, and I was firmly stranded — with limited provisions. Very limited.

Now – to his credit, he did offer to drive them back down to me, but I declined. It was a long drive in crappy conditions and plus, I have a few extra pounds I could stand to lose and a forced diet might be the catalyst I need to get the ball rolling. Fedex was our option of choice and one I was fine with. Heck, I had wine.

Today, day 2 of being stranded, I’m feeling a bit like Tom Hanks in that movie Castaway where he draws a face on a soccer ball and has meaningful conversations about life with it. Although I do have my Labrador, a cell phone and contact with the neighbors, I’d like to think that I am seriously roughing it, ala pioneer woman style.

Although now I am praying the weather stays clear, as the keys are on the way and I am out of wine, so the situation is taking a major downturn. If they don’t show up tomorrow, it could get ugly.

Office Holiday Wreath

In the spirit of the holidays, we tend to go all out in our office with the decorations and holiday cheer. If you look really closely at the bottom of that wreath – there’s a picture of a bunch of Santas. That’s our brigade, of course, and yours truly holding a shockingly large boot full of beer.

Needless to say, that Santa adventure didn’t end up to be our brightest corporate moment.

This year, to avoid any bad publicity from the local papers, we decided to bag the Santacon and focus our energies on more productive endeavors. This meant decorating the office and stuffing it with enough chocolate to make Willy Wonka jealous.

Last week when I showed up at the office for my bi-monthly catch up session, it was more like a caloric wasteland than a place of business …. and the resident taste testers had been diligently doing a great job of  scrutinizing the office goodies all week long. While trying to be calorically responsible and watching the consumption of all things holiday, which can tend to get a little out of control if you don’t grab it by the reigns, this was not quite the situation I wanted to find myself in — all things considered.

Let’s review the occupational hazards, otherwise known as holiday temptations:

First – it’s the box of holiday truffles ordered by us as corporate gifts. Me thinks there was an extra supply ordered. And not just one box, many boxes scattered around the office for the taking…

Office truffles

That is the “before” picture, by the way. The after picture looked like it was attacked by a group of seagulls. Seriously, I think I saw one piece that was half eaten and put back into the box. Gluttons…

And then there’s this:

Solid block of chocolate

The mangled mess you see there is the left over remnants of a solid block of Godiva chocolate given to us as a holiday gift that weighed at least a pound upon arrival. This is what they did to it before I got there. The above is the “after” picture.

There’s no getting away from the added “treats” in the office. Here’s a snapshot of the refrigerator:

Cake, Aloe Vera juice and Keggy

Let’s go over this, shall we?

And before you get all judgmental, yes, that is a keg in our refrigerator. Coffee stout to be exact. You never know when duty might call for a little afternoon pick me up. With a resident brew master on staff, it’s a common theme, plus, beer always goes well with lunchtime Chinese. The aloe vera juice we’ll discuss at a later date.

The alarming thing to date is the rate of the office wine consumption:

Remaining Wine

That’s it. There was a lot more. Let it be known, we do work ( a lot ) but it is comforting to know that we can become comfortably numb if need be (which is rare).

After five days of office life — it was time to vamoose. My waistline knows a losing battle when it sees one.

But don’t think I didn’t pack a few “goodies” to go.

Resolutions, anyone?

When Black Friday rolled around, I took the opportunity, not to get a jump-start on holiday shopping, but to pick up a few items that my kitchen was lacking, at decent prices, of course. Admit it, this is what you really do when there are really good sales happening – buy things for yourself. Okay, it could be just me.

Moradella & Robiola Panini

Let’s back up a bit. About a week prior, I had downloaded the Food & Wine app on my iPad. In this very interesting online version of the printed magazine, of which I am a long time subscriber, had video of Mario Batali building a rather scrumptious looking Panini made with ingredients that, honestly, I had never heard of in my lifetime. And I’ve been alive for 40 years. Not sure what that says about me.

Mortadella, I was sure, was a character on the Addams Family, and the cheese, Robiola Bosina, sounded more like an Italian silent movie star than a cow by-product. I don’t get out much, apparently.

This very new concept – and recipe – inspired me, on black Friday of all days to pick up something I will probably never use: the Panini machine.

On sale, and calling my name, it went into my ‘cart’ with all the best intentions. Think of all the great things that can be done with such a contraption. And when it arrived, I set it on the counter of the kitchen and admired its beauty.  Then it was time to put that to good use.

So – according to “Mario” who appeared to know what he was doing – the bread was the important part… cut 3/4″ thick to compensate for being squashed.

The Bread

This, I did. The beer, by the way, is not Hammerhead – which is a great McMenamins brew, it was a seasonal brew called 2*Below by New Belgium brewing. Must give credit where credit is due. Liquid bread and actual bread – a good combination any day.

But back to my Panini. Next was the fixings. Since the recipe called for “Mortadella and Robiola” — and I live nowhere by Dean and Deluca to procure such ingredients, I opted for the “boonies” version and simply used honey ham and gouda cheese. Seriously, I’m lucky to get Gouda cheese and Pringles where my cabin is located, much less anything “fancy.”

Spreading a little olive oil — they have that here, thankfully, it was time to put the bread to the grill and see how it all turns out….

Panini's - pre Panini machine

This is when the Beau, sitting at the counter wondering what my picture-taking fuss was all about, starting to chime with questions like, “Don’t you think the bread’s a bit thick?” He had no idea I had consulted with Mario prior to embarking on my lunchtime culinary masterpiece.

And masterpiece it was….

Finished Product

Here’s the finished product. Like a kid wanting to hurry up the desired effect, I couldn’t keep the lid closed for more than 30 seconds, waiting – more than anxiously – to see what the Panini was going to turn out like. Truth be told, I really wanted my Panini to look better that Mario’s Panini, so I could send pictures to him (and Food & Wine Magazine) boasting my Panini superiority and better hairstyle.

I may have failed on both accounts.

But – my ponytailed-haired self enjoyed the first attempt at the “mountain” Panini and let me tell you – it was not a disappointment what-so-ever. So thank you, Mario, for that bit of Italian inspiration. Practice makes perfect – so what’s next? As always, taking suggestions.

Studies prove it isn’t healthy to work through lunch, and who am I to argue? Today, and every day this week, we are making a conscious effort to take a break. “We” meaning me and the dog. He needs a respite from his demanding day (usually spent lounging in front of the wood stove) as much as I do. And yes, it’s good to get out and regroup before the events of the afternoon.

Playing in the Snow

So today we all got a little lunch-time exercise. Me, with snowshoes and my beloved Pooch, with the chuck-it. He digs it. He lives for it.

Melting Snow

With the weird winter weather we seem to be having, and a pseudo-heat up today, made the snow into a very slushy mess that the snow shoes, and dog, could hardly negotiate. Not that we didn’t give it good go though. We headed off into the great outdoors (meaning the backyard) and through the deep, melting, and sometimes deep snow.

About 30 minutes into it – both the dog and I were spent. At one point my heart was practically beating out of my chest I was working so hard trying to make a path for us to follow. The dog, panting quite a bit and taking breaks by rolling in the snow to cool off, had also finally had it and gave up on trying to fetch and find the ball.

Fresh mountain air, a little exercise and time spent with the dog – who could ask for more? The only thing that could make it any more perfect would be to put a little flask of wine around his neck in a barrel, ala Saint Bernard style, to warm up when I get too cold. Other than falling on my face once (okay, twice), it was a great way to spend a lunch hour, even without the wine flask.

All you city slickers, one of which I will be by next month, don’t know what you’re missing. And when I am a city slicker, sitting in traffic and living in the ‘burbs, I’ll be glad I had the opportunity to fall on my face in the mountain snow in the middle of the afternoon on a work day.

Snow, that’s what we’re talking about here.

Although the snowiest places in the USA are in Washington State,  my little neck of the woods in Central Oregon is no slacker when it comes to annual snowfall. I made a trek to the mountain cabin last week to find about 12″ of snow on the ground, and temperatures Eskimos would complain about on any given day.

Unshoveled Porch

The only person (well, he thinks he’s a person) who was happy about the situation was the Chocolate Lab, who decided this was the best thing he’d seen to date.  Noticing the white stuff on the ground, he made a mad dash out of the car before it came to a complete stop, and proceeded to take off like he was possessed until snow depth stopped him (thankfully). I was in no mood to chase him down (and risk falling on my face like I’ve done so many times in the past).

Snow can be fun when you haven’t had to deal with it for a while.  Visions of snow shoeing danced in my head, until I realized I had to get busy shoveling a path from the garage to the house in order to even get indoors.  Then there was tackling the porch that was covered and half-iced over. Two days of this mess and the novelty had completely worn off.  I had to put the snow gear away and head to warmer ground…..Well,  my office in the “big city” where it is slightly warmer and no snow to speak of.

Packing up the car to head back out of the frozen tundra, I realized that “low clearance” on the car isn’t always good when it comes to snow, even if there are new blizzacks involved.

Getting out of Snowville

The snowplows, there to make sure the roads in the neighborhood are maintained, plowed the driveway partially shut. The bastards. Who cares about whether or not an ambulance has to get down the road when I have to get out of the driveway? It may not look like much, but from behind my heated steering wheel, it looked like Everest sitting in front of the windscreen.

I did what any girl would do – I went for it.

Making it over the mound without needing someone to tow me out, my great escape was made.

It is, most definitely, beginning to look a lot like Winter.

Snowy Mailboxes

And I am now counting down the days until Spring, which as of today is 108. That equates to a lot of days left that will be dedicated to shoveling.  Perhaps Santa will leave me air tickets to Fiji under the tree this year. I have, for the most part, been good.  Must remember to ask him when I see him tonight at the Holiday Ale Festival. If you’re in town – swing by to say Hi to Santa – and me.