Apples to Apples

Good morning, loyal blog readers! I’m sorry I’ve been slacking on new blog entries, life has just gotten in the way of all of these technological commitments. I have a whole lot to catch you up on: I got an internship, went apple picking, got my leg brace off, am down to 1 crutch, got 3 new dresses at the Rachel Pally sale, and much much more!

While there is so much to discuss, I think the most exciting is my apple picking adventure. I know the dress shopping is a very close second, so maybe I’ll fill you in on that later.

A few weeks ago (yes, it has been a while...) I went to Oak Glen, California with Fraser and our lovely friends Margot and Adam. Well, we actually crashed what was originally meant to be Margot and Adam’s anniversary trip...but it wasn’t much of an “anniversary trip” kinda place, so we really saved them.

So we drove the 2 ½ hours to Oak Glen and decided to go to Riley’s at Los Rios Rancho to start our apple adventure (you like that hyperlink?!?!). To our dismay, we found that we were very late in the season (next year we will go in early-October rather than November). We didn’t have as many apple options as we would have hoped, but we still managed to pick a 20 lb box of granny smith, breaburn, rome beauties, and stayman winesap. I had grand plans of coming home and making a pie, but let’s be honest, that didn’t happen.

After Riley’s we headed out for lunch (word on the street was the apple pie and meatloaf at Law’s Coffee Shop just could not be missed). The wait was pretty significant, but we held out and ate a mid day feast (which then killed our part 2 plans for the day of going to dinner in Claremont--my fellow apple pickers’ old college stomping ground). Instead, we decided it was time to buy some gifts and goodies then hit the road. Adam decided to purchase some work gifts (smart brownnoser ;) while Fraser and I bought caramel apples, jams and unfiltered apple cider. The sparkling Martinelli’s was tempting, but when in Oak Glen...

It ended up being a very fun trip, and next time I plan to hit the orchards much harder without a full leg brace and crutches (poor Fraser had to carry me a few times so I didn’t feel left out). A highly recommended day adventure for next year!

P.S. Check out Margot and Adam doing what it takes to pick the best apples on the ranch! Way to be, team!

I'm still hungry.

Just because my leg is broken doesn’t mean my appetite is. In fact, I think that it has grown in hopes of healing my fracture with carbs, sugar and alcohol. I'm a bottomless pit. In the beginning I convinced myself that I was, in fact, getting a great core workout everyday lifting my leg, hoisting myself up, and hopping around. Awwwww the power of the mind. I’m very good at convincing myself of whatever I want. Too bad my mind can’t burn all of these calories, too (even though I often think really, really hard about working out and sometimes I even break a sweat).

So not only has this fracture changed the appearance of my leg (where did all of the muscle go?!?!) but the rest of me has changed, too. Ugh. Not enjoying this. I often tell myself that there is just more of me to love and I have a more womanly figure (the power of the mind...). I can’t wait until I can start hiking, yoga, and aqua aerobics again. Yes, aqua aerobics. The class consists of me, my sister, and tons of old people in swim caps. We enjoy it thoroughly.

Not so sure about returning to softball, though. Turns out that all my team needed to do was get rid of me and then they would start winning. Maybe this was a set up. It was the plan all along. Now I watch the games from the stands and cheer good ol’ Shake n’ Bake on to victory while I secretly question their motives...

Anyone have any good exercise tips or classes for when I can get back in the game? Even with this Debbie Downer vibe I’m actually feeling quite inspired to get back in shape and function again. I need suggestions! Doctor’s appointment Monday and I’m banking on getting the green light to start physical therapy and hopefully exercise again soon! Help me find my new workout!

Overrated.

Halloween isn’t my favorite holiday by any means, but I usually enjoy dressing up and celebrating. Not this year. Perhaps it’s the knee brace and crutches, but I couldn’t think of any costume that sounded even remotely interesting. And no high heels?! What’s the point of dressing up?! We had a wonderful pizza and pumpkin-carving party on Friday, but that’s it. Instead of a Halloween party on Saturday, I chose to drink multiple margaritas at El Conquistador with the gay boy scouts (there were tons and they were fabulous!). SIDE NOTE: If you haven’t had these incredibly strong margaritas in Silverlake then you are SERIOUSLY missing out on life.

Last but not least, Sunday night was spent doing laundry at my parents’ house and then taking a nice tumble down the stairs because I forgot I was on crutches. I know this may sound stupid, but I actually often forget that I can’t walk. It’s been 7 weeks now, but I still forget. I went upstairs to get an old college book to prepare for an interview later in the week, and I got ¾ of the way down the stairs only to then go take a step with my broken leg. I realized I made a mistake when I couldn’t reach the step and I was slowly tilting forward and downward. Then came the flying crutches, book, and flailing limbs. Well, hello floor. It’s been a while since I’ve been face down here...

Thank god I’m ok (I think). I just got more swelling and aching, but I don’t think I re-injured it. The doctor already added 3 more weeks on because my leg is “not where it should be after 6 weeks.” REALLY?! REALLY!? I’ve done everything he said! Ugh. This blog post has gone to a point of no return. I’m going to ice my knee and cry. Maybe eat a salad. Enjoy a picture of our pumpkins.

Counter-Necessity!

My parents have been such a great help since I fractured my leg. They do big grocery runs, take the trash out, help tidy my apartment (including doing dishes), among other helpful tasks. My mom came by the other day when I was having an ant infestation. We were killing everything in sight, and moving food, spices, and counter-clutter out of the way. My mother was a true saint that day, and together we got to the source of the troubles and the little army hasn’t come back (with big thanks to the magic chalk my landlord gave me). It wasn’t hard to find most things after that because I was a part of the reorganization process. However, I didn’t remember moving my wine opener. I don’t consider that “counter-clutter,” that is a “counter-NECESSITY!”

You can imagine my growing fear as I was tearing apart my kitchen looking for the key to my heart! My $5.99 bottle of Smoking Loon Syrah was taunting me! I knew it had to be somewhere so I tried to calm myself down so my search actually had a chance. Then, I opened the last drawer in the kitchen (the one next to the fridge, near the ant carcasses) and there it was. Like a shining beacon of hope that my night was going to turn out alright. That glass (or 2) of Syrah that night never tasted so sweet.

My mother, of all people, should know how cruel it is to misplace someone’s wine opener. From now on it will forever stay as a “counter-necessity” and never be mistaken for “counter-clutter.” I’m sure you are as happy as I am that this one has a happy ending. I hope something this terrible never happens to you.

Until today...

I’m actually a pretty good driver. I do suffer from intense road rage and swearing blackouts, but other than that I’m good behind the wheel. The only accident I’ve ever had is with this small 2 foot tall wall that I couldn’t see when I was backing out of a driveway in high school. Until today...

My parking spot at my apartment is quite compact and has a nice white pole keeping me in line. Every time I pull in I watch my passenger side view mirror to make sure I clear it. I usually just squeak by. Until today...

As I pulled in I commented to myself how crazy it is that I’ve never hit the pole! My mind was really on the delicious sandwich on the seat next to me that I had just picked up from Larchmont Wine and Cheese. Then I heard it. I can’t even quite describe the sound, but it was painful. My heart stopped. I grabbed my crutches and hobbled to the other side of the car and there it was: my lovely green car now has a new, white accent. Oh, and I got the door handle, too. Don’t you worry. The car WAS in perfect condition! Until today...

At least I stayed true to form and only hit sturdy, planted, strong objects! Shit.

P.S. Oh Heeeey Dad! Yeah...I’m gonna call you about this in a minute. I think they can probably just buff it out...? Sorry.

Sweet, or Savory—that is the question

I love breakfast food. I could eat it for every meal. Sadly, when my grandmother passed away my dad wasn’t able to get her recipes. But, the one he remembers is one of my absolute favorites: Matzoh Brei. For those of you who don’t know this dish, it is scrambled egg with matzoh. My grandmother’s recipe is perfectly savory and slightly sweet with the sauteed sweet onion, garlic, butter, salt and pepper. Being such a die hard fan of this savory dish, it has always been hard for me to wrap my head around the idea of a sweet matzoh brei. Syrup or jam on my matzoh brei!? No thanks!

My boyfriend and I have often have the conversation as to which is better, and neither of us has conceded. I was having a craving, and decided to make it for breakfast. Rather than deal with a cranky breakfast partner, I made it both ways so we could both be happy and enjoy our matzoh brei of choice. It was a little extra work, but well worth our happy tummies. I’m sorry to report that I didn’t even try my sweet competition. The thought of syrup on my matzoh brei confused my stomach and head so much that I didn’t want to create any waves. I stuck to my savory and he stuck to his sweet. Maybe I’ll try the sweet version next time. Until then, I will be in my savory matzoh brei coma and be thinking about what to make for dinner.