One.

So today I'm doing the hip thing to do as a photographer!  I'm starting my 365 project!  I'll be taking a picture every single day, inspired or not, for a whole year, and I'll be posting them up here for the world to see!  It'll be so fun!  ... some of the time.

So here's photo number one: Also the start to my other project.  Images of my shoes, where they go, where they rest, and how dirty they get along the way.

Black Beans and Rice

MMHM! You guessed it! This sweet, creative blog has just been transformed into the typical recipe blog.  Don't read it if you don't want to.  I'm doing it for my own brain.  I've got to remember the stuff I've invented in my natural realm, the kitchen.  I sure do flourish in there.  Maybe that was the start of my waistline problem...

So today I made a huge batch of Brown Rice.  I made two cups (plus water, expanded, blahdy blahdy makes so many cups of rice, who knew?) so that I'll have some in the fridge for the next few days.  Then I rinsed a can of corn, diced half a green bell pepper and one teensy tomato, grated two carrots, and pinched apart a few tiny bunches of cilantro.  I heated up a can of black beans, submerged in some of the juice.  Plating goes like this: Brown Rice, Lime Juice, Salsa, Veggies, Black Beans, Lime Juice, and a little slosh of Balsamic Vinaigrette, but we all know it ends up the same place, so plate as you will.

Eat it.  It's good.

Vegan?

Getting pregnant, it can take so much time! So here I am, nine months after the start of this blog, and this conception plan, and no baby to show for it!  I do however have a big ol' bump to show for it, unfortunately lacking the baby within.  What's going on?!  Since I said sayonara to my measured out hormones, and my perfectly balanced life, I unwittingly said the same to my waistline!

Since the day I went of of the pill there were several immediate signs of...  What do you call it?  Womanhood?  Insanity?  I'm not sure, but there were immediate signs that my body, my moods, and my personality were changing.  I have of course, shared some of those changes with you.  I'm moody, grouchy, grumpy, however you want to name it.  I'm whiney and selfish.  I no longer choose to wield the tools of a strong woman, and I make my husband fix all of my problems (What? Isn't that what they're for?)  And all the problems the husband can't fix, are quickly cured with large doses of sugar and fat.  To say the least, I've become a lump on the inside.  AND THEN all of a sudden I looked in the mirror, and I have also become a lump on the outside!  (It's funny how the whole, beauty on the inside thing works out...)  So here I am, thirty pounds heavier than I was last year, as I prepared for my wedding day, and slipped flawlessly into that beautiful white dress.  MmHm.

So finally after a couple months of realizing this was happening and doing nothing about it, I stood on the scale and instead of skulking off to the fridge, I stood upright and looked myself in the mirror!  I am beautiful (I have no doubt about that).  I have a strong will (My husband will tell you all about it).  I am lactose intolerant (Why didn't I just listen to the pleading of my bowels?).  I have nothing standing in my way of once again being the hot mama Michael married.

Losing weight is easy, I've done it before.  Luckily I have a bit more confidence and self-esteem than the last time I weighed this much.  This time I also have a man who loves me, and will willingly watch me suffer through it all (no doubt while stuffing cookies in his mouth).  I am ready.  I can do this.  I am going to be back to my proper weight in no time, but I'm not stopping there!  I'm going to change my whole life.  I'm going to change my lifestyle.  I'm going to be that skinny girl in yoga class that smells like lavender and sage.  I'm going to be vegan.

VEGAN!  But it's not for the animals, not even for the baby ones.  I'm going to be Vegan so that I will learn to love vegetables.  I'm going to learn how to cook them, and eat them raw.  I'm going to live off of grains the way nature intended, and screw oil!  Goodbye fat!  Hello crunchy delicious bell peppers.  I'm so ready for this!

Heat.

Tucson is hot.  So hot.  I've been reading about Australia in Bill Bryson's Down Under and his pages are just packed with compliments to the Australians for thriving in such hot whether.  He makes them sound like saints for staying alive, and then he drops out some temperatures.  How's 115 degrees Fahrenheit?  Oh that's easy.  Tell me why doesn't Tucson get any credit?  There's a million people in this city, and I haven't run across any novels describing how incredible Tucsonans are for staying alive.

Maybe it's because we hide.

Yep, that must be it.  I don't get any credit for surviving, because I am currently hiding from the heat, paying someone to keep my 419 square foot apartment cold.  I could have used some serious kudos today, but you know what?  I'm happy right where I am.

Blog.

I feel like writing a blog today
even though I have nothing to say.
I could talk about fish, I could talk about whey,
besides, who reads this blog anyway?

Yesterday I got a new chair
It was out by the garbage, but looks rather fair
I always wanted one that was shaped like a square!
I hope my husband don't know I found it there.

Sunday I played with all the rats,
I fed them, and held them, and hit them with bats.
I didn't really, it just rhymes, fats,
slats, flats, mats, cats, acrobats.

This is the end of my useless blog
but it was fun, and I used my nog
I can't wait till it rains, so I can catch a frog
but for now I'll play with my dog.

Poverty.

Michael and I were married at 21.  Both of us were 21.  I had a head start on him, (which ended up being useless, because what does an Associates of Arts get anyone these days?) and he was fresh off of his mission, with almost zero work experience, trying to find a job that respected a resume stating: "Two years of Volunteer service."

We moved into our 419 square foot home, with what little we had.  Michael was still wearing clothes from high school (my favorite states, "I love Lakeside Football, but I came to see the band," depicting a pumped up football player, with steroid patches and all, biffing it on his face), while I made a poverty-pact with him, to stop buying new clothes.

Everything we owned was thoroughly loved (meaning worn) hand-me-downs.  We took a queen size mattress from his brother, who left on a mission.  We got a set of green corduroy couches from my parents, who had purchased the set for $200 at a second hand store several years before. We stole hampers from our parent's homes (My laundry hamper was always labeled "Serena's" so I'm pretty sure it was legit).  We furnished the corner of our home meant for dining with a small table left out beside a dumpster, whether left dead, or hoping for a new life, we could never be sure.  But it fit in the 7' by 5' spot nicely.

All of these things have been complete blessings in our lives.  However, since the time we first moved in together, the whole dining room idea has been abandoned, with the dining table being amputated to become a coffee table.  The mattress has been flipped several times to avoid wearing our body shapes into the foam indefinitely, and the couch has become a deep cavern, in which only the bravest of souls can find their way out of after a good movie, or serious nap.  At this point, I am convinced Access must have a qualifying detail about the amount of second-hand furniture in ones home, at least under a Chiropractors Only plan.

When Michael and I were planning on getting married, we often (meaning always) were blessed (meaning smothered) with good advice.  My favorite bit was, "You're going to be really poor the first little while, but that's going to be the best time of your life.  You really grow together when you've got nothin."  Cynical as I may sound, it is unreservedly true. The moments when we stress about having nothing, are the moments we realize we have everything.  Even though climbing out of the couch is a two person ordeal, and our teflon has been previously scratched, our marriage is stronger than ever, and our love never lacks.  It is great.

Michael.

I'd like to take a moment and credit my husband.  He is incredible.  This guy has hardly been home from his mission for a year, and he's working pretty much full-time, and going to school full-time, and he's a full-time husband!  This guy does so much in a day, sometimes I can't even believe he's real.  Today he's taking his finals, then heading off to work for a 7 hour shift, and we won't see each other until 10:45 at night.  A normal day follows something like this:

1. 7:30am Wake Up
2. 8:00am Leave for School
3. 8:40am - 2:30pm Classes
4. 3:00pm - 10:30pm Work
5. 10:45pm - 12:00am Spend time with Wife
6. 12:00am Recharge. Repeat.

This man is just incredible.  He deals with so much all day, gets good grades, works so hard he receives constant kudos from his boss, and then comes home to me.  He comes home excited to sit down and relax, play with the dog, and watch TV.  But then there's me.  Raging hormones and all, I hug him, kiss him, get him a drink, and by the time the night is through I've fallen apart about at least two meaningless things, used a roll of toilet paper blowing my nose, and downed half the chocolate in the house.  And what does he do?  After his long day, without a break or a rest, he holds me.  He tells me everything is going to be alright.  He tells me I'm beautiful.  He gets me another roll of toilet paper.  He comforts me, patiently, until I am calm.  Then he straightens the sheets, fluffs my pillow and tucks me in.  Sometimes he comes straight to bed, and other times he takes a moment to straighten up the house, finish the dishes in the sink, or make sure I have clothes ready for the next morning.    Either way, he always gives me a kiss before I fall asleep.  And before he leaves for school the next day, before I've even begun to stir, he always gives me a kiss on the cheek, and he's gone before I realize it's morning.  

Christ once asked, "What manner of men ought ye to be?"  

My husband answers that question every day.