Saturday, May 30, 2015

Why I'm " luv_a_bul " and National Adopt a Shelter Pet Day

When I joined this century and created a blog and joined twitter and instagram, I had to think what I was going to be writing about and what my name should be. "Luv_a_bul" came to be out of my personal plea to people to educate themselves on a very loving and very misunderstood breed.
Meet Emma-
20150325_080756[1]Emma is a hyper ball of energy (and gas) that literally appeared into my life one very cold, wet night. I was on my second date with a guy and after dinner, decided to introduce him to the world of Netflix. I pulled in my driveway and opened my door and my date opened his and yelled to me "Do you know that dog?!" I saw what he was talking about. In front of my van, shaking in the rain, was a pit bull. Now, I don't live in the best neighborhood and although I love animals, I am aware that approaching and cornering a strange dog can end badly- especially if said dog has had bad humans in the past. And I admit I thought "Eek. Pit." I judged her in the split second before I met her. And then, I decided to meet her. I yelled back "Nope!" and got out of my car and stood behind my door. She looked at me. I stepped out from my safety and called, "Hey baby!" with kissy noises. She cowered. My heart dropped at that moment and I walked up and stopped a few feet from her and squatted, avoiding direct eye contact. She sniffed and I opened my leftover container and handed her the other half of my New York Strip. (Again, I was on my SECOND date when I was still trying to pretend I was ladylike. I don't think there has been leftover steak since.) She gobbled it down without eating my fingers- not on account of her own doing, but merely because I had faster reflexes mind you. Her tail and body began to wag and she belly crawled to get under my knees. She nuzzled me. "Well, I can't very well leave you out here. Let's see how you do with Remy." I looked back, my date still behind his car door, and opened the gate to my backyard. She followed me and my date followed her. Carefully. I locked the gate and informed my date to stay back, that I was letting my dog out and I really had no idea how it was going to go. I'm sure the look he gave me was somewhere between terror and I don't know what I've gotten myself into with this crazy lady I met online. Remy was happy I was back home and happier to see two new friends in the backyard. "Female pit bull" was not as happy. She did some assertion of her dominance by way of "my head is on top of your head" and when she uttered a low growl, I promptly gave her a swift Ceasar inspired jab to the neck with a loud "TSSSSST!" I'm pretty sure my date turned a few shades lighter. She looked at me with her big, sad eyes and silently promised to be good. I let everyone inside and started collecting towels for our very soggy foursome. As we took to the living room I knew that this would most likely be our last date. "Listen. This is who I am. I let strange animals into the house when they need me. I'll always pick them. And if she isn't claimed, I'll be keeping her. I'm not going to put her in a shelter. I can't do that."
We are getting married this December. (My date, not Emma.)
20150401_152547[1]No one came to claim her. And as it turns out, Emma was breed and she had puppies about 7 weeks later. I told Sam (my date) that I was keeping Deja (our beautiful blue pit) after my coworker wasn't able to get her as planned.
20150322_130011[1]So that's the story of how our family came to be. I've become an advocate of a breed that is feared and hated because criminals want to use them as weapons. Because people believe what a friend of a friend's aunt read on the internet one day. Because people know that they are "vicious dogs with a drive to kill."
2014-06-18_11.09.48[1] Our rabbit, Cal, clearly is terrified.
20150326_153135[1]                                   20141028_204731[1]
So I ask that you inform yourself. And don't judge the group as a whole. My grandpa was so mad at me for keeping Emma that he refused to come over to my house for Christmas. I said, "Suit yourself." Needless to say, he met Emma that Christmas and now he calls to find out how "his" Deja is doing. (Before asking about myself, Sam or grandkids.) Today is National Adopt a Shelter Pet Day. I assure you- We think by changing their life, you'll realize you were the one who was saved.


Double Entendres from a 5 year old

I usually pat/pinch/squeeze/tickle and or generally annoy and tease my daughter while we snuggle. Laying in bed watching Peppa Pig,  and she suddenly turns and says, "Spank me. Not too hard, and not to soft." Pointing her little finger threateningly in my face. As I think about how to respond to my new found Goldielocks of BDSM, I mentally decide that during teenage years, I might not want to be the "cool" mom that she can say anything to. Might want to keep some of that shit to yourself. Oh, I can't adult today. I about lost it.

A Little About My Treats

I love to bake. Seriously. I may set the smoke detector off at least once a week while cooking, but I'm a hands down, all around, great Baker. Most people are one or the other, I find.
But baking soothes me. My great grandma taught me. I could bake before kids my age could read. I used to walk home from kindergarten to an empty house. (It was a FAR different time.) And what did I do to keep me occupied? I baked. In the oven. Mostly chocolate chip cookies so they were fresh when my gramps came home. I would mix all the ingredients, that I knew by heart, and before I would put the chocolate chips in, I'd scoop out a couple "dog cookies" to bake for our Weinaramer. Then I'd mix the chips in and scoop out half into teaspoon sized bites. I'd add pecans to the remainder of the dough because my mom liked them.
I love to try out new recipes now. I love to tweak and adjust and try again. Seeing people so happy by something that I did- well, that's an awesome feeling. One day, I hope I'll have my own bakery. I'll get there. One cheesecake at a time.
Check out my other creations-Sweet Treats by Timber
As much as I love to bake, I was never able to make a pie crust to save my life. My aunt passed away a little over a year ago and made sure that I got her binder of recipes she had compiled. In it, I found a recipe for pie crust in my great grandmother's handwriting. I attempted it, and lo and behold, perfection! Flaky, salty perfection.
So my question to you guys- What is YOUR favorite recipe? Does it have sentimental significance?

Friday, May 29, 2015

The Hazards of Winter

I've been dieting on and off (for maybe the past 15 years.) Recently we are having an "on" again relationship. And apparently just in time. I was sprawled across the bed with my fiancé Sam next to me when my daughter came in, most likely to plead her case for sleeping downstairs instead of in her bed. As is customary at least twice a night. She stopped when she saw me in my yoga shorts. Now it's just getting warmer and to be fair, my thighs are quite shocking after being holed up in the safety and comfort of winter layers. She came over and began to slap the top of my pasty appendages and said, "Mom, your legs are FAT!" I told her that I was fully aware that a majority of myself fell into that category. Then I get the sideways look of disapproval from Sam. You know the one. The pursed lips with the face that says "oh don't say that!" while the mind thinks "Meh. They've got a point." She repeats herself while playing a rhythm on my legs. Sam pipes up at this point and tells her that isn't nice and to stop. Misunderstanding, she turns to me, "No, this doesn't hurt. (Smacks a little harder) Does it mom?"
"No honey. I'm dead inside."
(Smiling triumphantly) "See? I TOLD you. "

This is me.

Well, here it is. My first post. I'm sure you're wondering why you should choose to follow me; what's so special about ME? Well, I'm not sure. Other than the universe seems to enjoy joking with me on a regular basis. And most of my life should be a FOX script of some sort. Picture it- my house- two days ago (thanks Sophia.) I had just gotten home from a TRX workout and my legs felt like jello. I went into the bathroom and sat on the toilet, and silently thought to myself that there was no way I could get up. I was tired and cranky and full of self doubt from a less than stellar workout. But when you need proven wrong- just put it out into the universe. She'll help you out. In this instance, she sent a maybe a half inch GIANT, black, hairy and surprisingly fast spider to come caterwauling over the side of my sink cabinet, presumably to attack my phone as I set it down. I shrieked loud enough to send my "vicious" pit bulls running for the hills (thanks for protecting me, ladies) and low and behold was able to immediately fling myself into the upright position. While I piddled on my leg. And the spider disappeared along his merry way, probably going to help another hapless soul who had self doubt on their locomotive abilities.  So I stood there frozen for a minute, and contemplated what to do. And then I laughed. There was nothing else I could do. I was in the middle of a horrible day, with a horrible mindset, and now I'm screaming in the bathroom with my slightly damp pants at my ankles. I laughed so long and hard that the dogs came back to peer at me around the corner and try to judge my sanity. Not that there's really any left.

So there you have it. Why follow me? Because you know you want to.