Ode to the Cranberry

Some of you might think not posting for a measly 8 months would certainly lead to a post filled with apologies, pledges to not wait so long next time, and gratitude for your love in returning to read again. Not so. I have better things on my mind, namely, cranberries. I have developed a fond love for this fruit lately, which surprises me. I love it in every form. And before I go any further, I must in good conscience take this time to issue an apology to my father. My loving father, who has supported me despite all my faults, is much wiser than I. I spent every Thanksgiving loudly turning my nose up at the cranberry relish he generously applied to his turkey. Mind you, this is a liberal definition of cranberries as it was in the shape of a can, with lines from the can, and would jiggle on the plate, but nonetheless I admit my error. Turkeys and cranberries are indeed soul mates.

My only sadness is I did not recognize Dr. Ryder's wisdom sooner as I could have enjoyed many a meal involving this delicious berry. A bag of craisins is now securely in the glove compartment of my car to ward off any hunger-induced demon-ness (Mike and Mary surely know what I am talking about). If cranberries in any form are the menu of the restaurant I am visiting, I am partaking. Vegetable sandwich? Hold the pesto, add the cranberries. Tuscan grilled chicken sandwich? Well, yes, I'd love cranberries; just put it on the side without the green olive and pepperoncini relish. You may or may not have noticed both of those items are on the menu at Paradise Bakery. My obsession with cranberries and Paradise Bakery has led to an unkind, but wholly well-deserved addition of ten pounds to my frame. And I've loved every part of getting there. But alas, I digress. That is a different subject for a different day.

So, without further ado, I will share with you my second-grade level tribute to this fruit:

"Oh, cranberry, cranberry, your tart flavor gives my mouth such delight,
And you somehow soothe my loneliness if I boil you into a tea at night.

Chutney, jelly, jam, compote, or whole;
You give Thanksgiving and Christmas spirit and soul."

Your red color is proudly displayed for all to see;
But it makes me a bit sad that I am too dumb to know if you grow on a bush or tree."

Two for Two!

The last couple of weeks, especially with my recent foray back into dating, have shed some light on some interesting observations about myself. This is completely unlike those quizzes you used to see in Seventeen Magazine where you were asked a question such as "How do you react when a cute boy calls you for the first time?" and your answer choices are the following:
a) Hang up the phone
b) Take a deep breath and play it cool like it's your best friend's brother
c) Act like he got the wrong house and speak Chinese into the phone

Come on. Everyone knows you choose "B," and even if you really would do "C", you pick "B" anyway because at the end, the little key will tell you that you are a cool girl, not that you are too shy or too outgoing. Every girl figured out this trick long ago. Congrats if there is any boy who is actually still reading this blog at this stage (highly unlikely unless it is someone who is required to love me, like my dad). No, no, this "light shedding" is simply an objective (well, at least as much as it can be) assessment of some things Victoria that I have either discovered or been reminded of as of late.

1. I am a complete nut job about teeth.
As my sister so lovingly pointed out, I am like an anorexic, but with teeth. A teethorexic. Anorexics never think they are skinny enough--they look in the mirror and instead of seeing Skeletor, they see Fat Albert. Teethorexics are like with teeth--I always see brown, british-like teeth staring back at me. So Maureen is kind of right that I need to get a grip about this. Except my teeth really are brown and yellow. I swear.

2. I am really picky about guys, but my finely tuned "loser detector" is thrown off if you make me laugh.
I have a pretty high initial annoyance meter--I typically know within about 5 minutes if I can stand being around you. Snaggle teeth? No. Chew with your mouth open? Date is over. Call me twice ahead of time to make sure I won't stand you up? Congratulations, I now want to stand you up. But if I laugh a lot (truly laugh, not my fake "Maureen and I will be talking about you as soon as I get in the car laugh") and you wear good cologne, you get a lot of leeway. This includes things you should probably not get leeway for, like not being a college graduate, wearing black jeans, or living at your parents' house when you are 28. Well, maybe not the last one so much. Unless you are also wearing stylish glasses.

3. I hate sleeping, but now that I am old I need to do it.
Bill Clinton is not really on my list of people I admire for a lot of reasons, but I do admire the fact he trained himself to live on 5 hours of sleep. I am very jealous of this; I hate sleeping. No matter what time I go to bed, I wish I could wake up at 5 am and work out. This seems highly unlikely for tomorrow given it's 1:24 am. Naturally my solution is to just stay up instead, not ever to go to bed early.

4. Americans are disgusting.
Riding my trainer tonight I hit on the lovely, surely award-winning show "Top Places to Pig Out in the U.S." This was like freaks at the carnival--first, they panned to a man who ate 12 dozen oysters. In 5 minutes. Next up? An 11.5 lb pizza--if you and a partner eat the whole thing in 1 hour, you get $500. No one has ever done it without throwing up first (no, not even two teenaged boys), but people sure keep trying. 10 places like this were showcased. Why is this gluttony fun? Granted, I eat more than my fair share of chocolate and ice cream, but do I really need to be eating 72 ounces of porterhouse steak in 1 hour? I am thinking....no. Why would I do this? That said, I luckily still wanted pepperoni and green olive pizza after watching. Good thing; that would have just been sad if I only wanted something healthy like a banana.

5. I would be the best FBI interviewer. Ever.
I got out of a full dinner date tonight with my date knowing exactly the following: I went to BYU. I grew up in Michigan. I work downtown. I like Indian food. Pretty deep stuff, I know. Meanwhile, I know more things about my date than I should ever post on a public forum due to some lawsuits I now know about that are pending. And of course he likes me. The government cannot teach these skills--I think you are just born with them. I am pretty much ready to go undercover and infiltrate the Russian mob as "Skalinaka," the smart and sassy model. Except for that pesky fact I would be sniffed out and executed immediately, but surely only because I don't have the bone structure of a tortured Russian beauty.

That's two blogs down, kids. I truly thought I would not post again after the first one!

Kids these days with their new fangled blogs...

I am not one to jump on the bandwagon (yes, I know, everyone says that), but I feel so old and out of the loop with all this Facebook, Myspace, and IM type stuff that I apparently think posting to a blog will make me feel young and technologically connected. Who knew I was insecure about my technology abilities? I've read my sister's and sister in law's blogs, as well as a few friends', and they've surprisingly grown on me. Plus, I am sick of typing emails to everyone letting them know what I've been up to, so this should actually save me a lot of time! Yes, it is truly all about me, not you. As a bonus, perhaps this whole blog phenomenon will inspire me to do fun, exciting things so I can entertain people since it is possible no one wants to read about my typical activities of painting my cats' nails. And yes, Mom, before you cry, I am kidding. I only have one cat.

I am fairly certain this blog adventure will be akin to the approximately 900 times in my life I've recommitted to writing in a journal: entries for a few days, then nothing for months or years except sheer embarrassment when I look back at what I wrote.

I just looked at the settings and evidently there is an option for "adult content" in a blog. Are you kidding me? What is wrong with people these days? Can we not just write things about our lives without "XXX" posted everywhere? Get a grip. So let me see if I can take a few words to summarize what my life is like right now:

1. I work
2. I work out
3. I feel guilty that I don't work out enough
4. I try to spend some time in the outdoors at least once a week. Right now that seems to be primarily skiing.
5. I don't write adult content in blogs

I think this is sufficient for a first blog out of the gate.