Stuffed like a Bird

I may have had stuffing for dinner, second dinner, and breakfast. I then proceeded to finish all of the leftover stuffing this afternoon. I’m not sure there is any greater side, or possibly it’s the fact that eating stuffing is relegated for this special time of the year. I got so stuffed on stuffing I think I’m good until next turkey day.


I am thankful for stuffing.

But enough being ridiculous, I’m thankful for the warm home I can always come back to and spend hours laughing with my bizarre family.

This year there was a lot to allow myself to get bogged down in. Hurricanes and health problems topping the chart. But that doesn’t come to mind when I think about the year as a whole. I think of making changes and progress in my own life. I think about my growing family which just added the most beautiful new member this year. I think about creating new friendships with amazing people that have recently entered my life and I adore. I think about building stronger friendships with the people who just get me because they’ve been stuck with me for that long. I think about my relationship and how fortunate I am to have someone that truly loves me, which is saying a lot.

I am thankful for two functioning legs that I have taken for granted all of my life. They have at times been a source of frustration when they caused me pain. At times they have been a source of insecurity when they rubbed together. They have carried me on mountain hikes with friends. They have taken me throughout the windy streets of unknown cities. They are now what allows me to run. I am so thankful for them.

Last night my mom gave me an awesome present and reminder:

Run hard when it’s hard to run.

I have so much to be appreciative for this year. And now some new inspiration to get to the gym. Running is never easy, but knowing I have supportive people in my life who have my best interest in heart has made this year extra special. I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday and was able to reflect on the good in their life as well.

Sunday Dinner

It’s Sunday dinner in our tiny nest. The apartment is full of the rich sounds of Sinatra and smells of wine, garlic, and sauce. John likes to feel like he’s in Goodfellas when he’s making his sauce.


As we listen to legends such as Otis Redding, Etta James, and Dean Martin, I can’t help but to feel a little classy. Maybe I’ll add some red lipstick to go with the sweatpants look I’m rocking.





John’s new obsession with Junior Master Chef has led him to evaluate his plating. Dating the chef has perks, this was our test meatball.

Look at the dedication in his face as he makes the meatballs “go swimming” – his words, not mine.


This Jewish girl did well when she found this nice Italian guy.
Happy Sunday! Go eat something equally as delicious.

Eating Like a Cow

I have, at times in my life, cared both a lot and a little about the size of my pantaloons and the numbers on a scale.

In 2007 I worked at a chain restaurant and began to eat all of their delicious foods. For every meal. Gradually I came to the realization that it is not practical, nor acceptable, to eat burgers for nearly every meal. I decided to become a gym rat for the summer, and in reality, cared too much about getting back to my pre-processed foods bod. I got obsessive to the point that if the number didn’t satisfy, it could ruin my entire day. I counted my calories, which isn’t a bad thing if it’s done right, but a terrible thing when it’s done in order to quickly lose weight. And as people noticed that I was losing weight, I grew more concerned with what I was eating.

If I eat a yogurt for breakfast, half of a sandwich for lunch, and a soup for dinner and work out, I can lose…

After receiving real, and concerned, criticism from friends, because that’s what friends do- they call you out on your crazy, I got my head straight. I never wanted to do that again, and my fear of getting like that is probably what made me spin in the opposite direction. I became a crusader for eating right (right in my mind was saying no to a side of french fries with my lunch wrap) and I never weighed myself.

The scale is the debil.

As years have passed coughsixcough my 20 year old metabolism that I took for granted dissipated as well. Toodle-loo-kangaroo. I also got a real job and lost the ability to do nothing all day and claim that it’s acceptable because it’s college. By this year my body was all out of wack, my skin did not look healthy, and I just knew I didn’t feel right.

So what did the scale say?

I didn’t want to get on the scale- I refused. And then it happened. The day I went to the doctors appointment that told me my lupus was no longer in remission. I was at my heaviest weight. It all became real in that moment that I needed to get my priorities straight. There were too many extremes in my life. I decided to reclaim my body, and not for a number on a scale, or how I wanted to look. I decided to workout for my health. This was the first time in my life I was working out for that reason alone.

Last month, after six months of working out I stepped on the scale. It was the first time I had been curious to see my weight. I had lost ten pounds. And it was the first time in my life that I did not have a goal in mind. I was just feeling good. My knees no longer hurt, I had more energy, I was walking a little taller and I was feeling stronger. I felt proud, and I felt no anxiety associated with a number.

Today I am a pseudo health pretender. Naturally, I have always had an interest in healthy eating and healthier options. I was always a skim milk kind of girl. I loathe (that’s how much*) aspartame. I rather just skip sugar than ingest any artificial sweeteners. I don’t drink soda or juices. This is just how I operate. However, my affinity for healthy options is often at war with my better half- the bacon cheeseburger and a side of french fries with the perfect seasonal beer, please!  side.

And guess what, I eat it.

I will eat the whole damn cheeseburger and I will enjoy it. And I am happy. I have struck some kind of balance in my life. If we are continuously searching for a magical number or a size to find happiness we will always struggle to be happy. What is it that you truly want? Once I recognized that I wanted to be healthy and balanced I found what I was looking for. And I am not perfect, I am far from it, but this mission for inner peace with all things in life is taking me places I didn’t know I could find. 

Visiting Hours

May of 2009 ended my senior year of college which means I have been out of college longer than I was in college.  Guh.  Eight years after my freshman year and now my baby brother is in his freshman year at my very own alma mater.  It was his decision to go and probably has absolutely nothing to do with me, but I’m so proud I could squeeze him to pieces.  While pretending his decision to go has everything to do with me.  

After waking up with no alarm, hip-hip-hooray for that, I did a quick two miler with John and got ready to escape the Island because my baby broseph was in town and I needed to squeeze him to pieces.  We hit the road for a scenic, and beautiful, 2 hour drive north to spend some quality time with my family.

So what do you do when you travel to see your family? My family eats.  First stop, lunch.  There is this place in my town that has obscene breakfast foods.


So obviously, when faced with obscene breakfast foods get the craziest one… behold, a canoli pancake.


me, brother, mom

me, brother, mom

The rest of the afternoon we spent making fun of each other and being ridiculous- There is no other way.  Thankfully the middle child wasn’t there or it would have been a slaughterhouse of mockery.  We are mean to each other in the only way siblings can be, with love.  I did get to help my brother with an improv skit he has to do for an acting class.


you are doing something in a rush. props needed.

So, behold.  Me teaching my youngest brother how to apply makeup.  He will be playing a girl getting ready for a first date.

mpc3mpc4mpc5mpc9mpc7mpc6     Perfect way to end the weekend.  

Perfect way to start the week.