It seems like I’ve been gone for a while. And I have. I think it’s been 8 months give or take?

Yes.

And I blame my time-management skills. Or my lack thereof.

It’s been an overwhelming couple of months and I hope to be able to get back into the bloggy-posting swing of things as soon as I get my schedule back in order.

I can sense a change coming.

In the meantime…

I leave you with these hilarious ladies:

No, I did not move to the South…although these ladies make me wish I had.

Mucho love and laughter,

City Girl to Country Girl

I’m in love.

That’s right. In love.

Although in the spirit of honesty and complete truthfulness, please note that this “in love” situation is not at all romantic.

I have not yet found Prince Charming. Nor have I found a rugged cowboy to ride off into the sunset with. My plus one? Currently non-existent.

Not that I’m actually looking or doing anything productive to remedy the situation. I mean, I guess I really should be, but right now I’m working on a much more important project.

Me…

Myself…

and I…

Numero uno if you will…

But back to the whole “in love” issue before I digress into a long-ass diatribe on how that whole “You Complete Me” mentality is a vicious lie perpetrated by “The Hollywood Powers That Be” meant to subjugate women into settling into unfulfilling relationships harmful to their emotional and spiritual well-beings…okay, okay I’ll stop now.

*ahem* 

Back to the whole “in love” issue…

I am “in love” because I am surrounded by babies. Not mine, of course. Everyone else’s. I get to play and coo and spoil little babies for hours and hours and then when I get bored, hand them back to their mommies and daddies with no lingering responsibilities other than to plan my meals for the week and schedule movie and shopping dates with my other child-free friends.

It’s great, this whole worrying for no one but yerself kinda life…

And yes I know I spelled that word wrong. I did it on purpose — it’s currently my thing. (It’s hard to explain. I just started pronouncing it like that a few days ago and now I can’t seem to stop.)

So, back to the reason I’m seeing hearts and butterflies everywhere…

Most of my friends have been giving birth to beautiful little girl babies left and right for a few months now, to the point where I can now tell you (with an absolute certainty that is cosmically reinforced with every single fiber of my being) that a violent and earth-shattering war will break out in the Spring of 2030…

Why Spring of 2030? Why not Fall of 2017 or Summer of 2022?

It’s because this is when all those beautiful little girls will grow up and turn 17 to 18 years of age…

They will be High School Seniors.

This period of time is also commonly referred to as Prom Season.

In 18 years it will be referred to as Senior Prom ’30 to be exact.

During this time there will also be a significant shortage of available boys (at least among my circle of friends) for teenage girls to take as their dates…

You know, since everyone around me keeps insisting on birthing cute little girl babies. Not that I’m complaining or anything like that…

It will be loud…

Hairs will fly…

Tears will flow…

Prom dresses might even be burned in sorrow…

Flower shops will go out of business due to the lack of corsage orders…

It will be bitch-slappingly-fantastic-Dynasty-style!

And as someone who is currently (and thankfully due to this predicament) child-free, I have a non-participatory-front-row seat to the whole shebang!

I’m still waiting for at least one of my friends to name their child Alexis to make this situation Oh So Very Complete, but no one seems to want to indulge me on this matter.

I just don’t understand the dang hold up. Alexis is a lovely name.

I’m already thinking of organizing some sort of system to monetize the whole thing. Just think of the potential revenue this situation could generate. Reality shows! Pay-per-view! Online betting! Corporate sponsorships!

Does that make me evil? I hope not. I prefer to think of myself as someone who is innovative with a great spirit for entrepreneurship and a knack for forecasting opportunities for substantial financial gain.

Like Henry Ford…or Sir Richard Branson…or Donald Trump (?)

At least that’s what the voices in my head are currently telling me.

Isn’t it amazing what can bring on a surge of brilliance? And by brilliance, I mean the kind that only sounds good in your head. Practicality and good taste not required.

Thankfully, I do have a few more years to work out the kinks before I set my brilliant income-generating plan into motion. In the meantime, for all of you out there planning on having babies this year, please keep giving birth to more little girl babies. I might want to repeat my future financial windfall in the Spring of 2031.

Besides, seeing all the cute-yet-abnormally-giant-pink-bows wrapped around their itty-bitty heads just make my day!

Mucho love and laughter,

City Girl to Country Girl

Not to get too melodramatic but this image basically describes my thoughts and feelings about Tim Tebow being traded to the NY Jets:

I’m not even kidding (okay maybe I am just a little bit). I was doing the dishes and half-listening to the evening news when I heard that Tim Tebow was let go from the Denver Broncos and I promptly dropped and destroyed my favorite 9-Qt Visions Dutch Oven into a million little pieces. The pot I used to make my St. Patrick’s Day Corned Beef and Cabbage every year. The pot where I used to make my turkey, chicken and beef stocks. The pot where I used to attempt to make my soups was now shattered into a million little sharp glass pieces in the sink.

Let me tell you, the clean-up was a beeyotch. Thankfully, no serious injuries resulted from this debacle.

Okay so maybe I didn’t really purposely drop the heavy pot into the sink, but it merely accidentally slipped from my soapy little hands as I was scrubbing off the final remnants of the corned beef and cabbage I had made just a few nights before.

I’m devastated.

Where the heck am I supposed to make my Pozole now?

Although sometimes I can’t figure out which one I’m more upset about; Tebow or my glass dutch oven.

Let’s face it, Tebow looked good in that blue and orange uniform.

Seeing as how I learned to cook with that old Visions pot that belonged to my daddy, I think today I’ll mourn for my dutch oven.

Starting in the fall however, I’ll mourn for Tebow and I’ll try to get used to the fact that he’ll be wearing white and green from now on.

See, this is why L.A. needs its own NFL team. I wouldn’t have to even bother looking in the direction of other teams or players for my football fix.

Thank God for college football where it’s all about school pride and the glory of winning, instead of money and ego and a whole bunch of other of nonsense.

Mucho love and laughter,

City Girl to Country Girl

One good thing about getting older is the realization of certain things, habits and natural self-delusions that tend to crop up from time to time. It’s not easy to accept some things, especially when one has had a lifetime of good luck, somewhat good genes and guardian angels steadfastly camped out in one’s corner.

I have recently come to the realization that I am not all powerful. I cannot will things to happen with my mind. I have come to realize that I might never become Super Woman. Hell, I don’t think I can even pull off being the faithful sidekick — at least not at the moment as I struggle with my latest round of, let’s face it, ridiculously minor health issues (realistically speaking).

But one thing that I can readily admit to, is my natural tendency to bite off more than I can chew.

And have y’all noticed it’s always during the month of February?

I tend to do that, a lot. A lifetime really, and I’ve noticed I tend to do that around the same time every year. See, that little tendency relates directly back to my delusions of becoming an all-powerful Super Woman. It’s a compulsion really. I choose to do things at full throttle. I dive into the deep-end feet first (or is that head first?). I grab the bull by the balls and hang on for dear life. Being super patient is an asset of mine. If there is a complication, an entanglement or a snag in the plan, I hang on until it all works itself out.

Except now. I am officially crying “uncle” and letting go of those bulls balls. I am officially dropping the mountain of plates that I chose to juggle simultaneously. Needlessly, mind you. ‘Cause none of those plates I was juggling were essential or even urgent. Frankly, they could have waited a bit. I could have spread them out. I could have just juggled two or three.

But that’s me. Aspiring to be Super Woman, faster than a locomotive and faster than the speed of light, and failing miserably…at least for now.

And I’m okay with that.

This time.

Mucho love and laughter,

City Girl to Country Girl

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to have a conversation with someone from L.A.? Ever wanted to be a fly on the wall in the everyday life of a typical Angeleno(a) just to hear what comes out of our mouths on a daily basis? Well, I have no idea who these two girls are, but they are perfect examples of two Southern California L.A. girls.

And if anyone protests — Well, they’re either not from L.A. or are clearly lying.

Enjoy!

You’re welcome!

Mucho love and laughter,

City Girl to Country Girl

Here is my recipe for a relatively light-flavored turkey stock that can be used to make anything from soup to gravy to turkey stock popsicles (just kidding on the popsicles, sort of). I like this recipe because I can use it for almost anything (except dessert) and then add additional seasoning or flavors depending on whatever recipe I’m using.

Since I usually like to “wing-it” when I’m cooking, I don’t like to use a heavily-flavored stock, lest it interfere with whatever I’m creating or messing around with that day. That and super-salty, greasy stock freaks me out.

City Girl to Country Girl’s Lazy Girl Turkey Stock

• 1 frozen-solid turkey leg
• 2 whole stalks of celery (leaves are optional)
• 1 whole carrot (peeled or at least scrape off most of the junk on it)
• 1 onion (cut in half)
• 2 whole cloves of garlic
• 2 whole bay leaves
• 1/2 tablespoon of powdered garlic
• 1/2 tablespoon of ground thyme
• 1/2 tablespoon of ground oregano
• 1 tablespoon of kosher salt (that’s KOSHER salt, not regular table salt)
• A dash or two (or three) of freshly ground black pepper
• 8-9 Qt stock-pot filled with cool, fresh water

Place everything into the pot (yes, even the frozen-solid turkey leg), fill it with the water and set the flame on high or to almost the highest setting (your goal is to eventually bring it to a boil) then go off and watch some television. I checked-in periodically during the commercial breaks to make sure it wouldn’t get to the point where it would boil over.

When it does come to a boil, immediately lower the temperature to a “really low boil” or “just above a simmer.”

Keep watching television and check your stock on and off (to skim off the crud that floats up to the surface) throughout the evening during commercial breaks. Don’t forget to taste it from time to time too. Remember, my recipes are generally lower in sodium than most, so adjust accordingly to your taste.

I was watching “Hart of Dixie” as I started making my Lazy Girl Turkey Stock and watched right through that show, the evening news, and four late-night “Friends” episodes. ’Bout four hours give or take.

Yes, “Friends” is one of my favorite TV shows, why do you ask?

Anyway, it will eventually reduce down to about half. At this point STOP everything you’re doing, turn off the stove and remove everything (the turkey leg, celery stalks, bay leaves, etc.) and anything else you see floating near the surface.

Wait for it to cool a bit and then place in the fridge overnight (or at least a few hours) for the fat to congeal on the surface. Skim the fat off and then strain the broth.

Re-heat the broth for about an hour or so to reduce it a bit more. Taste again. If any more scum or fat (you’ll see the oily film) rises to the surface, skim or spoon off.

When the broth cools it should be dark and clear and should be enough to fill two large, take-out plastic soup containers.

Now, at this point either store the broth in your freezer for later use, freeze some of it into ice cube containers for smaller servings of stock or immediately proceed to make whatever you would like.

Or you could try my City Girl to Country Girl Turkey Noodle Soup. Recipe to be posted tomorrow soon.

Mucho love and laughter,

City Girl to Country Girl

PS: My camera broke a few weeks ago and I don’t see myself getting another one anytime soon. At least not until early summer, so any recipe images you see come from my cheap little cell phone.

There are some things you will never, ever find in my kitchen. MSG-filled, super-salty boullion cubes or soup broth powder (Knorr or Maggi or Goya etc.) are some of them. They’re what I consider to be “weird chemical food” kinda like margarine or shortening (or Cool Whip and Cheez Whiz, if we’re naming names) which are two other things you won’t find in my kitchen, but that’s another discussion for another time.

Boullion is basically MSG + Salt + Preservatives.

I don’t care how convenient or how inexpensive they are. Using those preservative-laden cubes represent a level of cooking laziness even I can’t condone. And I’m super lazy, so that should tell you how abhorrent I actually find them.

Besides, I’m sensitive to heavy MSG-laden foods ’cause I usually start itching or really sleepy or mildly break-out in hives a few hours later. That and I grew up eating a low-sodium diet thanks to a family history of high blood pressure and heart disease, so all that sodium really ruins the “real taste” of food for me.

Besides, how much real nutritive value is in those lil suckers anyway?

That being said, I am not opposed to using the pre-packaged in a carton, organic, low-sodium, MSG-free liquid soup stock from Trader Joe’s in a pinch (I like cartons, because I try and stay away from aluminum cans as much as possible).  But, that type of stock is totally different from boullion. Boullion (in my humble opinion) is evil.

Especially since it’s so easy to make stock from scratch. Sure it’s a little time consuming, but it’s not like you have to slave over a hot stove for hours, and it will make your home smell amazing. Bonus!

I’ll be posting my “Lazy Girl Turkey Stock” recipe tomorrow. I refer to it as a Lazy Girl recipe because it is perfect for those days you want to be somewhat productive, but would rather watch television or indulge in perfecting your couch potato ways. It’s so easy and stress-free and you don’t even need to defrost anything beforehand. All you have to be is awake to make it and I guarantee it will make you feel like a domestic goddess when you’re done. I hope you enjoy trying out my recipe.

Mucho love and laughter,

City Girl to Country Girl

I confess that I’ve neglected this blog lately not only because of a packed work/school/horseback riding schedule, but because I’ve been glued to my TV set for the past couple of months watching not only more than a handful of new shows from the new 2011 Fall season, some long-time old favorites and more recently, what seems to be every single college football game that I can get away with watching on the weekends without completely turning into a hermit-like couch potato.

And I’m not just talking about my regular season college favorites vs. whomever else television football schedule, this is including the most random bowl games ever (Gildan New Mexico Bowl/Kraft Fight Hunger Bowl, etc.), the important bowl games (Rose Bowl, Fiesta Bowl, etc.) and a few NFL games thrown in for good measure.

And I don’t even like the NFL…

Well…

(I really should just rewrite that last sentence in past tense, but I won’t)

Okay, not really…

I would love to tell you it’s because I’ve fallen in love with a super-hot-football-loving-city-living-horse-riding dude, but alas I’m still single and I have no one else to blame but myself. I mean, it’s not like I grew up in a football-loving household with a sports-loving dad (he was more of an academic politics-loving bookworm than sports fan) and a bunch jocks for brothers (I’m an only child). My love for college football has been growing slowly but steadily since I started half-watching the games in the early 90′s since my Saturday morning cartoons ended right before some of the televised games, and it certainly didn’t help that for most of my college years I worked in a primarily young, male-dominated workplace. But my life had never been taken over by that stupid, tanned-leather, pigskin ball as much as it was this season.

Thankfully, I have suffered no ill-effects due to this excessive television watching schedule…

Which is a complete lie because my ass is now about twice the size it was when all this TV watching started this past September, when I was smack dab in the middle of my twelve day radioactive iodine quarantine and right in the middle of my several weeks of steroid therapy, and had nothing else to do but watch television.

(I’m just thankful I didn’t get attached to a new telenovela or two this season. I would probably have the kind of ass that could only belong on a JLo/Kardashian hybrid baby)

But I digress…

Thanks to all the football I’ve been watching lately I have discovered several things (and you’re free to disagree with me on some of these things) that I’ve never really noticed before:

1. Tim Tebow is hot.

2. There is nothing more boring than watching a football game where the points being scored consist primarily of field goals.

3. Tom Brady is annoyingly hot. Like, he’s hot, but I still kinda wanna slap him. No idea why.

4. It’s worse when it’s a BCS Championship Game when most of the points being scored consist primarily of field goals. I repeat: Field goals = boring.

4. Matt Barkley is kinda hot (in a jail-bait-sort-of way) and smart for staying in school to finish his damn degree.

5. Alabama and LSU either have the best and most amazing defenses in college football history or the suckiest offenses ever known to mankind. And I mean as in ever. EV-ER.

6. The University of Oregon football team has the most awesome helmets & uniforms (must be nice having the CEO of NIKE as an alumnus).

7. Twelve days later and all I want to do is hug Stanford freshman kicker Jordan Williamson after seeing him sobbing after he missed that last field goal. Poor thing. I still feel bad…and I was rooting for Oklahoma St!

8. Boise State has the most butt-ugly, headache-inducing, day-glo orange/sky blue uniforms. Maryland isn’t far behind with their bi-polar “I can’t decide which side I like best” uniforms.

9. Andrew Luck is one of the best players in college football. Still not sure if he’s hot per se. I prefer to go with cute to describe him.

10.  Tim Tebow is hot. I don’t care if he just lost.

11. Best College Football Moments on TV: When USC absolutely TROUNCED UCLA (50-0) in this seasons L.A. cross-town rivalry game. When Alabama SHUT OUT LSU (21-0) in the BCS Championship Game.

12. Best NFL Moment on TV: SF 49er Vernon Davis getting emotional after that last second (Okay, 3 sec left on the clock) winning touchdown. Same goes for that, “Oh crap! Did the Broncos just beat the Steelers a few seconds into OT?!?” moment last week was pretty awesome too.

13. I think I’m a fan of the Chicago Bears, Denver Broncos & the New England Patriots. I don’t know how that’s even possible since they all just recently played against one another. I’m kinda new to most things NFL, how the heck to choose? It’s all very Sophie’s Choice.

14. I really shouldn’t think about it that much since I’m a long-time, die hard fan of USC, Notre Dame, Penn State, Oklahoma St., U of Alabama and U. of Wyoming. In that order. Again, it’s all very Sophie’s Choice there too, most of the time.

15. This wouldn’t be a problem if L.A. had an actual football team and if L.A. hadn’t discontinued arena football (RIP L.A. Avengers). I can’t believe I seriously consider this “a problem.”

I’m so screwed.

So back to my original question: I say True. Apparently though, both Alabama and LSU haven’t gotten the memo yet.

What about you dear readers? Do you agree with my statement or do you believe is good defense is just that…defense. Do you have a different opinion you’d like to share? I’d like to hear it.

In the mean time, I leave you with this:

Sure it’s game over for him, but he’s certainly nice to look at.  ;-)

Mucho love and laughter,

City Girl to Country Girl

I guess at this point, it’s no secret that I am in Los Angeles. I was raised here, I went to school here, and I still live here after billions of earthquakes, fires, floods, wind storms, riots, fiscal corruption, celebutants and droughts.

Basically, to make a long story short…I’m an L.A. girl.

I mean, you knew that already, right? It was easy to figure out?

I love Los Angeles. I love Southern California. I love the West Coast. I can’t imagine living anywhere else (and I briefly did) especially with the kind of weather we’ve been having lately.

Not that I want to brag or anything since I understand that there are others less fortunate than us freezing their butts off living in blizzard and severe storm prone areas, but yeah…I’m gonna do it anyway. Just this once.

After having an amazingly beautiful 80 degree Christmas weekend, an absolutely comfortable mid to high-70′s holiday week (what I like to call the week between XMAS and NYE) we got another freaking 80 degree New Years/Rose Bowl weekend!

No icky humidity. No rain on our parade. No freezing temperatures. No wind storms. Not even a Santa Ana on the horizon…or radar. Just perfect, perfect weather.

And we’re in such a perfect location. I mean, we can go snowboarding in the morning and end up soaking some rays at the beach later that same afternoon and then take a four hour drive to watch a show Las Vegas that evening! In January! In the winter! Hypothetically, of course. I’m staying home to watch the 2012 Rose Bowl/Fiesta Bowl games today. Have I mentioned that I love college football? It’s my dirty little secret.

But back to my L.A. love…

Okay, so maybe we did have some psycho arsonist running amuck this weekend setting fires to carports and cars of all makes and sizes, but that’s the exception and not the rule. And definitely not weather related.

If it’s any consolation, I’ll probably be complaining about our weather in a few days. I mean, it is still winter and Mother Nature has proven herself to be an unpredictable beeyotch lately…but for now?

I LOVE L.A! Whoo hoo!

Mucho love and laughter,

City Girl to Country Girl

So picture it…

I’m standing flamingo-style on top of a hot pink step-stool, one foot high up in the air while holding on to a thin strap of leather and a little piece of horse hair on one hand, and my other hand is attempting to steer the toe of my airborne boot onto a stirrup fastened so high it’s practically up by my ears.

Did I forget to mention I have balance issues? I’m also not very flexible. You can just imagine what happened next…

I cramped up. Bad.

As in, when I managed to get the toe onto the stirrup and as I was putting all my weight on my left leg to somehow swing my right leg over and get my behind onto the saddle, I suddenly froze.

In pain.

In mid-air.

How I dropped squarely back down onto that little narrow mounting block is still a mystery to me, because I literally let go of almost everything when that shooting pain decided to pay me a visit. Vocal control. Muscle function. Death grip on the horses’ mane. Some tears. Sanity. Dignity.

Except for my reins. You never let go of the reins…

And I couldn’t even get off the mounting block without assistance. Every time I put my weight on my left side I felt like I was dying several little deaths.

And not the good kind either…

I was in so much pain, and the cramping wasn’t letting up at all, that at one point one of the lesson assistants suggested that maybe I should pass on riding that night…

Did you hear that?

Can you hear that faint screech? That high-pitched sound of metal scraping on some concrete? That’s what happened in my brain that night.  It was so loud in my head I’ll bet if you were anywhere near the L.A. area that night, you could hear the echo in the distance.

Now, long time readers know that my horseback riding lessons are the highlight of my week and there ain’t no way I’m letting some mutha-loving pain get in the way of me mounting something that night.

Wait…that sounded weird…

But you catch my drift though, right?

Well, what seemed like 20 min later (but was more like five) we somehow managed to get my behind on that saddle…

And then I cramped up again, this time on both legs. While on the horse.

I blame old age…

(Even though I’m still in my young 30′s)

And the fact that it was freezing that night…

(I have no idea if cold weather had anything to do with it)

‘Cause I totally stretched right before my lesson…

(And I’m not going to blame it on the 20lbs I’ve gained since the whole steroid-radio-iodine-thyroid therapy happened two months ago)

So I’m blaming it on the weather…

(Just go with it)

The pain did eventually subside and then, an hour later, after a rather enjoyable ride where I practiced one-rein stops and circles, as I went to dismount and shifted my weight on to my left side to lift my right leg over and off the horse…well, you know what happened next right?

Yes, again.

I think I ended up pulling something because I was in pain getting into my car to go home and I was in pain getting out of the car, and then I eventually couldn’t lift my left foot/leg any higher than 4 inches to climb the stairs up to my apartment, and then getting my jeans off was another ordeal in itself, and then I had to roll myself onto my bed and roll back off during the night to go the bathroom…

But I’d do it again. All over again. Pain and everything. No question about it.

Because I got to ride that night.

And frankly, that’s all that matters…

My name is Mia and I love to ride horses.

Mucho love and laughter,

City Girl to Country Girl

Caaaalifornia where the wind comes sweeping down the…

Wait…what?

California?

Wind Events?

In…L.A.?

Sure we get strongish yet warm Santa Ana winds every year, but this…this kind of wind event hasn’t happened in ten years. I know this because all the television news stations tell me so.

I’m talking 80 Mile Per Hour chilly wind gusts people…

That’s EIGHTY for those of you that are numerically challenged. Or in shock.

We have been informed that STRONG HURRICANE-LIKE WINDS will assault the Southern California area for the next few days.

Yes, assault…

But there is no need to panic. No siree.

Just a few minutes ago the area around Lake Castaic got a few gusts around 97 mph!

We lost power at LAX!

We have downed trees and telephone poles!

And where I am…we just had the WORST 15 seconds of wind…ever. EVER. And I’ve lived here for a while.

Even I was scared. And I’m a brave one. Yes ma’am, I am.

Now if y’all will excuse me, I’m going to hide under the covers with a flashlight, a rosary, my teddy bear and a first aid kit…

Stay safe my dear readers.

Mucho love and laughter,

City Girl to Country Girl

Let’s talk about intentions shall we? More specifically, the intentions that have gone by the wayside the past few weeks…

• I intended to cook up a storm for Thanksgiving…
• I intended to start my workout routine last week…
• I intended to post some new Thanksgiving recipes on the blog…
• I intended to get more riding time this month…
• I intended to go get some blood work done for my Dr. appointment on December 2nd…
• I intended to get a haircut/manicure/pedicure/massage and other girly stuff done the past few days…
• I intended to finish a project before schedule for a class I’m taking this semester…

Items completed? None. Zip. Zero. Nada.

Items that will be completed this week? None. Zip. Zero. Nada.

It’s been a long while since I’ve been this busy. It’s been so busy I haven’t even updated this blog properly.

I’m tired…and I need a few cleansing breaths. Hopefully I’ll be able to catch up on some things during this Thanksgiving holiday — ’cause this blogger doesn’t work on Thanksgiving. Whoo hoo! I can’t wait for Thanksgiving…I need Thanksgiving…

So what’s on the menu at Chez City Girl to Country Girl this week? Souplantation. That’s right. I ain’t cookin’ and neither is my mama. We are on a cooking strike. You can’t make us cook. No way, no how. We are putting our feet down. Stomping them down actually.

But I choose to live vicariously through the rest of you.

Tell me dear readers, what are your cooking plans for Thanksgiving?

Mucho love and laughter from a simply exhausted blogger,

City Girl to Country Girl

So now I’m riding a different horse. His name is Custer and he’s a good-natured sweetie. He’s a little on the old side, to the point that his lovely chestnut coat is sporting a substantial number of grey hairs that weren’t around just a few months ago. See the blurry photo above? Yep, that was him last year.

And it doesn’t look like it from the photo, but he’s also very girthy, which means that whenever I mount him I feel like I’m splitting in two. I don’t even want to talk about the flash of pain that assaults my ankles whenever I maneuver my feet into the stirrups, never mind the leg cramps and the hip spasms. And do you know what’s worse? Everyone at the equestrian center agrees he’s been a little on the thin side lately. I can’t even imagine how it’s going to feel like when he gets some weight on him.

Sure, I do my stretches. And yes, I have been making sure I use my legs more and more each day by walking a little bit longer and pedaling along on my stationary bike on a semi-frequent yet not-so-regular basis…

Which means I’m the non-flexible 30-something-year-old senior citizen in this equation. Which is weird, because I’ve never had this problem with the other two horses I’ve been on.

Aging sucks. Either that or I’m horribly out of shape. I don’t know which description I would prefer to identify with really. Neither is a great choice, but when you got a 20-something-year-old assisting you as you lift your short & stubby little legs over the back of a docile, eternally patient, sweet-natured horse and looking at you with what could only be called sympathy and compassion you need an excuse to fall back on, at least in the name of dignity…

At least for the few minutes during my riding class when I feel like my legs are being ripped from my body like a wishbone at the kids table during Thanksgiving dinner.

I’m torn my dear readers. Should I go with the whole “I’m so old” excuse or the “I’m such a coach potato” excuse? Neither or None of the Above is not an option, at least not until I:

1. Get into better shape
2. Find the Fountain of Youth
3. Have Doc Brown build me a DeLorean
4. Grow 8 inches taller
5. The most logical but highly unlikely choice: Change horses

Mucho love and laughter,
City Girl to Country Girl

We’re not even close to Thanksgiving yet (okay, so maybe we are a little close) and I’m already scouring the internet for information on Black Friday deals.

I love shopping. Have I mentioned that before? Anyway, I haven’t really been doing much of it lately due to a slightly empty pocketbook, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to hunt for deals to justify a trip to the mall.

That and I’m an only child…with a mother that loves to spoil me.

An only adult child…but let’s not dwell on that shall we?

Anyway, I ran into a Macy’s press release with some pretty awesome info. Check out some of these sweet deals:

• $19.99 Rampage Boots
• $99.99 Kenneth Cole NY & Nautica Overcoats
• With Any $65 Fragrance Purchase, Receive A Digital Video Camera Free (One Per Customer, While Supplies Last)
• Buy One American Rag Sweater ($34-$49), Get One American Rag Pair Of Jeans Free
• Extra 20 Percent Off Dresses
• $199 ½ Ct Diamond Studs In 14k White Gold
• $79.99 Designer Down Coat From DKNY, Laundry, Calvin Klein And More
• $99.99 Young Contemporary Wool Coat From Esprit, Steve Madden And More
• 40 Percent Off Select Regular Price Coffee Makers, Tea Kettles And Espresso Makers
• $68.99 Cuisinart 7-Cup Food Processor
• $179.99 Kitchenaid Classic Stand Mixer (After $20 Mail-In-Rebate)

These aren’t all the sale items, but the ones that I found…interesting…fascinating.

And…not only are select Macy’s locations opening on MIDNIGHT on Black Friday, but select Kohl’s and Target stores are too!

What was that thing I was talking about earlier? Saving what? Money? What…what is this thing called saving? Wha….?

Black Friday sales count…right?

Right?

Mucho love and laughter,

City Girl to Country Girl

For those of you who hate spoilers, this post is not for you if you missed the last few episodes of Ringer. You have been warned.

Anyone else watching Sarah Michelle Geller’s return to the small screen? ‘Cause I feel like I am the only one. And we all know one is a very lonely number…

I’ve watched Ringer religiously for the past few weeks (Okay, sometime I flip back and forth from the DWTS results show) and I can’t seem to… I just…I can’t seem to…no…I simply cannot get into it.

Which is practically blasphemous since I was such a huge Buffy The Vampire Slayer fan.

I don’t know if it’s the pacing (Malcolm’s been dying since almost the dang pilot episode!) or the lack of quality special effects (that speed boat scene in the pilot episode — I mean, really?) or the logic behind some of the story lines (Juliet is a rich kid on drugs so her dad sends her to public school to clean up? Seriously?).

I mean, sure it just started and it still needs to get into the swing of things, but some shows have already sucked me in, to the point where I would be devastated if they were to be cancelled.

Like, I would cry ugly, miserable salty tears if Hart of Dixie or Revenge were to be cancelled. The same goes with Pan Am.

Please don’t mention the sinking ratings for that last show. I choose to live in denial about them.

But I digress…

As much as this show is slowly but surely disappointing me, I do have a few theories about the show:

• Siobhan is trying to kill Bridget because Bridget killed Sean while under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol. Because we all know Siobhan tried to kill her. Remember when she got that phone call in Paris, telling her that Bridget was still alive? Yep. She wasn’t so thrilled.
• Gemma is still alive. She has been kidnapped by Siobhan to screw over both Henry and Bridget. Henry because he didn’t want to off Andrew or Gemma for her. Bridget? Please see bullet point above.
• Siobhan knew that Bridget would take over her life since Bridget was on the run from the law, hence she left her engagement ring on the boat…much easier for Siobhan to run from her life and eventually return if she felt like it. However, since Bridget has no intention to ever return to her previous identity, she led the police away from her life as NuSiobhan by touching the lamp. This way the FBI would chase Bridget forever and NuSiobhan could get the attention off of Henry since he was a suspect. If he had gone to jail, the affair would’ve been revealed and NuSiobhan would be implicated in Gemma’s “murder.” Which is what Siobhan was counting on when she “kidnapped” Gemma. But Bridget doesn’t know Siobhan is still alive, so she basically screwed herself over.

And regarding that whole Malcolm story line…I can’t believe he is still alive. He’s like Kenny without the orange sweatshirt. I feel bad for the actor, but that whole plot line could be deleted from the show and most people wouldn’t notice. He’s like the Phoebe Buffey of the show (“You lift right out!” — Rachel Green, Friends). Talk about superfluous story lines…at least for now.

I will probably give the show a few more episodes before it loses me forever. It’s so disappointing. I really wanted to fall in love with this show.

Any thoughts about the show my dear readers? Ideas? Theories? Words of encouragement?

Mucho love and laughter,

City Girl to Country Girl

Once upon a time I had a roommate…

Let’s call her Harmonica shall we?

Well, this roommate and I were long time friends. We had known each other since eighth grade, went to high school together, went to college together, flew to Las Vegas and drove to Santa Barbara, went on adventures, went shopping together, hitchhiked together (stupid, I know), went to each others houses and did each other’s hair and makeup…you get the point right? She knew me. I knew her. We knew each other. We knew what made each other tic and peeved.

She was the starry-eyed dreamer. The impulsive romantic. The fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants kind of girl. She saw the beauty in everything. The kind of girl that believes in soulmates. She had no qualms in secretly taking off in the middle of a semester in college to secretly move (as in finding a job and place to live) to NY to be near the love of her life. The love of her life by the way, was her older half-nephew (but that’s a story for another time). That she ended up having to return home a month later, single and with a much lower GPA, didn’t seem to bother her.

I’m the logical one. The analyze-and-question-everything kind of girl. Random parents would let my friends stay out all night as long as I was with them.  I was the responsible chaperone within my circle of friends. The concept of a soulmate was, and still is, a strange concept to me. And I, on the other hand, put no man before my education and quickly put the kibosh on a relationship when it turned out to be more of a distraction than an asset to my life. I don’t really do spur of the moment decisions. I’m a planner. And thankfully, I am very accepting and tolerant of things, even if they’re not my cup of tea. It’s why we were able to remain friends for almost 15 years.

And no, I do not date my relatives.

But that’s not my point…

My point is that when Harmonica loved something or someone, she loved passionately and without reservation. She pursued that love no matter what. It was her passion…her raison d’être. Her reason for being.

I admired that about her. It’s not as easy as it looks, nor is finding your passion so easy to find. I know this from experience.

If you were to ask Harmonica was her passion was, the answer came swiftly and confidently…

Photography.

It was her entire purpose in life. The one thing she was meant to do in life.

It’s also the one thing that comes to mind when anyone thinks of Harmonica.

You know, other than that other thing I mentioned earlier…

Six years ago, before Harmonica and I had our The Hills-type of falling out she noticed I was stuck in a rut and asked me what my passion was. I had no freaking clue how to respond, mainly because I had never actually bothered to find out. Sure, I had hobbies and I had subconsciously tried to figure it out while I was in school by taking a bunch of classes I didn’t need that sounded fun and interesting…but it wasn’t the same.

I hadn’t found it. 

I didn’t know what it was. It was an elusive little beast. I mean, most people I knew had it. Why didn’t I have it? Why couldn’t I figure out what it was?

And then it hit me. I figured out that I simply cannot be limited to having just one thing as my passion. I’m too complex. I have too many interests that I love. Too many things that I would gladly do for the rest of my life…for free. Too many things that bring me joy.

And that was my mental roadblock…limiting myself to find that one thing that moved me. I figured out that it isn’t an it.

I also figured out that it isn’t the same as having a hobby, but that your hobbies can give you some insight when trying to find it.

Nor does it have anything to do with your career, although sometimes you might be lucky enough to combine the two. Especially, if you have the skill-set and have taken the time to master your passion. Because to have a passion, you don’t have to be good at it. You just have to love it when you do it.

And it doesn’t matter if that it sounds nuts or crazy or bland or boring to someone else. It only needs to move you.

My newly discovered passion is…horseback riding. But it’s not just horseback riding, it’s everything associated with horses. Even their poop. Personally, I think horse poop smells great…then again, that’s just me.

What about you dear readers? What’s your passion? Do you have a passion? What brings you absolute joy?

Mucho love and laughter,

City Girl to Country Girl

A few days ago I was surfing around the internet looking for some horse-related accessories (brass wall hooks to be exact) and somehow ended up finding all of this instead:

And now I want everything. Great. I’m especially oogling that Stella McCartney shirt and the cookie cutters. I can already imagine the butter cookies covered in chocolate — because my cookie horses would be chestnuts — and with white frosting drizzled on top for the mane & tails and some pecans sprinkled on top to make them look like Appaloosas. And I have a pretty darn good butter cookie recipe if I do say so myself…

*sigh*

Didn’t we just have a discussion on how I don’t have any money to go on a massive shopping spree?

Maybe I’ll just get that Old Navy t-shirt. Those cookie cutters are expensive!

Anyway, here are the product details for those of you who do have money to buy yourselves a little somethin’.

Enjoy your weekend!

Mucho love and laughter,

City Girl to Country Girl

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.” – Steve Jobs

For those of you that have been following along on Twitter and Facebook, my health issues have been rearing their butt-ugly heads recently. I’ve gone through two ultrasounds, one emergency room visit, several Dr’s appointments and one visit to the nuclear medicine department of my local hospital to willingly swallow a radioactive pill. And thanks to that little pill, I’ve been in isolation for the past few days.

Thankfully, not in a hospital ward, but in my own bedroom. Which is not as awesome as it sounds. It’s actually kinda boring. I have to be at least 6ft away from other human beings for about 10-12 days and try not to touch anything without latex gloves, lest I contaminate something with radioactive sweat. Think I’m joking? My mother leaves a tray of food outside my bedroom door with disposable utensils a nice cold Ginger Ale to calm my nausea and then scurries off. I am officially forbidden to leave my bedroom. I’m like Typhoid Mary to my own mother.

Thankfully, I have my own en suite master bath so that isn’t an issue.

What is an issue is the constant hunger I am experiencing. I’m hungry ALL. THE. TIME.  I’m thinking it’s the type of steroids the doctor prescribed this time around that are making me massively hungry, because I went from constantly nauseated to constantly hungry — and I’m never this hungry. All I do is think about food. All I want to do is consume food. I even dream about food. I’m so hungry I could eat an entire cow all by myself if given the chance and given the tools necessary to install a BBQ grill in my bedroom. I’d slaughter that sucker all by myself if necessary!

Heck, I’m hungry now and I just had breakfast!

Mmmm….B.B.Q.

But I digress…

If this sounds familiar than not only have you been a long-time reader of this blog, you have been paying attention. Yes, this is my second round of radioactive iodine therapy. I officially have the thyroid that simply refuses to die.

Or should I say had? It’s been a couple of days…it might be dead now.

It’s the second worst case of Graves Disease that my endocrinologist has ever seen. I know this because I had the stupid idea to actually ask my doctor how bad my situation was a few years ago. I remember the conversation went something like this — and please note that this conversation was at 8:30 IN THE MORNING so I’m clearly paraphrasing:

Me: So…(as the Dr. palpitates my neck) is it like, really bad?

Dr: Well…your thyroid gland is rather large and your test results show that your hormone levels are way in the abnormal range…but it’s not something we can’t deal with.

Me: O….k…

Dr: We just have to make sure we bring those levels down…soon.

Me: Is it…like…urgent? Like…am I…like…dying?

Dr: Well…not yet (slight chuckle)…we have a bit of time before it starts affecting you more than it already has.

{For the record: I had just lost 45lbs in three months, had muscle atrophy in my thighs which meant I needed help getting up out of chairs and off toilets, slept all the time, was tired all the time, couldn’t walk longer than a city block without resting for 20 min, my eyes got bigger, I itched all over and had heart palpitations and the shakes 24/7 — I was a mess — and, oh yes, my hair was starting to fall out. You cannot even imagine what kind of “more” was going though my head at that point}

Me: ………..(snapping back to reality) So…but…you said this is common right?

Dr: Well, yes and no. Lot’s of people have Graves. Most people these days have some sort of thyroid problem. However, your hormone levels are pretty high up there.

Me: So am I like, the worst you’ve ever seen? (nervous giggle)

Dr: Oh no, I had a patient that was just a little bit worse than you.

Me: (sigh of relief) Oh ok! So…like…how did that end up?

Dr: She died.

I mean, really…

Should I have even asked? Would you have asked?

On a much brighter note, that conversation happened around like, three years ago. I’m nowhere near as sick as I was back then. Thank goodness!

And yes, sometimes I do say “like” way too often in conversation. I can’t help it. I’m, like, a California girl!

Like, you know?

Mucho love and laughter,

City Girl to Country Girl

P.S. My thyroid can kick your thyroid’s ass any day of the week! Bring it!