Spent Words, Spent Grain

Boyfriend has this hobby I know nothing about; he homebrews. I should mention I've been very wary of his hobby prior to his actually deciding to start making beer in our home. When Boyfriend confirmed this was happening, I hoped upon hope it would occur at a friend's house. I would be wrong. It was within seconds of starting this project that "my" kitchen was a disaster. I hear the kitchen will "never be cleaner" than after my brewmaster finishes this session. And I'm forced to believe him.

I have too much pride with you to give you the full kitchen view. 

Because--for months--he has been telling me that I'll be able to make breads and cookies and dog biscuits with his leftover grains. I didn't realize just how many leftover grains he was referring to. I would have prepped myself with the most highly rated recipes on the World Wide Web. This is where Pinterest is good in a pinch; images sell. I pinned a couple enticing recipes and got to work. I've used four cups (on a decent batch of spent grain chocolate chip cookies and dog biscuits for my favorite basset hounds--Louis and Toby) and would estimate I have at least that much left to experiment with. Note: He is in the process of making one gallon of beer. As he reestablishes himself in this world, I'm going to be feeding all of Washington, D.C. with spent grain goodies. 

(He didn't lie about the grains. He's smarter than to joke around about kitchen cleanliness, I pray.) 

Let me backtrack: I should have been more suspicious of the decadent breakfast waiting for me when I rolled out of bed this morning. Had I known I wouldn't be allowed back in the kitchen today, I would have had two servings. My lunch consisted of snacks--dark chocolate covered espresso beans, crackers, leftover roasted vegetables, Sour Patch Kids, and I'll admit cookie or two--I could reach without distributing the crafter.

Is he a homebrewer, a brewmaster, or a crafter? I've yet to decide. 

Today being the day he decided to reinstate himself in this world (i.e., the day of his dreams), I'm slightly envious of the patience and skill and experience he has devoted to his trade. I'm inspired even. I had one goal for this weekend--finish The Cuckoo's Calling by Robert Galbraith. Not all of us can be so ambitious. I'm still in my pajamas at 4:35 pm on this Saturday; he's been in the kitchen since 10:00 am. Oh and the beer he has spent over seven hours preparing will not be tasted for more than six weeks. 

This blog--my hobby?--is sorely lacking direction lately. It's sad, honestly. As a result, I'm fear my writing has gone downhill and have on more than one occasion considered wrapping up with the "final" chapter on Lesotho and shutting down Explore. Dream. Discover. forever. I think I would miss writing as I've enjoyed the journey. But these days capturing time feels more like a chore and I never want to get to a point with my writing where the words are forced. And I certainly don't want to bore my audience. Those are directions I'm headed. 

But again, it's with piqued interest and desire, I present my spent grain chocolate chip cookies. 

The photos my dog biscuits will come with the next batch of beer; I need to steal cookie cutters from my mom in the interim. The ones from this batch of spent grain are boring blobs of what I hope is puppy dog goodness. Here is to waiting forever to see if these cookies or an upcoming batch of pretzels pair well with the beer I will not taste. 

PS: For a fleeting moment, I thought about "challenging" myself to document about my kitchen escapades as I continue to be more adventurous. But hello every other blog on the internet. Even in my quick search this afternoon, I discovered blogs dedicated to cooking with spent grain--homebrew remnants--already exist. In my attempt to share my ventures with spent grain, I would be but another voice navigating a world I know less than nothing about. Sigh.

Winter Blues

You know what I wish? That every Monday was a holiday. You know what I don't wish? That the Tuesday following the Federal Government would shutdown in anticipation of snow. I can plan a three-day weekend; I can relish in all that it is. I don't need an extra unplanned day. I thrive on routine. My ability to be spontaneous isn't what it used to be. And when the (anticipated) snow doesn't stick until late in the day, my eagerness to play sets with the sun. The three-day weekend allows for the right amount of relaxation and productivity with the added benefit that there are only four days of work following. The four-day weekend adds way too much in terms of lethargy.

(I might be the only one in the history of mankind to be thrown off, and therefore maybe a bit annoyed,  about a day off work.)

I really struggled to find my rhythm this week. Because it wasn't just Tuesday off, there was a two-hour delay on Wednesday. As work resumed, the temperatures remained evil on Thursday and Friday,  never rising above 20 degrees. It might be fair to say I lived in the South too long because I see zero reason to leave the apartment in digits that low.

After a few easy weeks, followed by even easier weekends, I jammed this past three-day weekend full. I wanted this weekend to hurdle me into each weekend for the remainder of 2014. But instead I'm here at home... still searching for this burst of motivation--the one that sends me into the plan, book, live, repeat mode. The more I go, the more I want to go. A 19-hour work week certainly doesn't leave me feeling as though I've accomplished anything.

So winter, I respect your plans. But I'm ready to reach a compromise. This year--2014--and I have plans, plans I intend to live outside the confines of my apartment, albeit warm and welcoming.

Exploring Pennsylvania

I'm going to jump right in. I anticipate covering the highlight of 2014 will require many, many words.

This past Friday night started with happy hour at Twisted Vines. Life doesn't get much better than a five dollar glass of decent wine. From there, we headed to P. Brennan's Irish Pub for a bite to eat.  Because if there is one thing a five dollar wine does its encourage you to have an extra glass. Next on the agenda was seeing a comedy show at the Arlington Drafthouse. Suffice it to say, laughter fails to disappoint. Though I was happy to see the time was past midnight at the show's end because I was all kinds of exhausted. I think it's a testament to the challenge the real world has been for me these past couple of weeks. I was not alone--next on the gang's agenda was to make our respective ways home.

On Saturday Boyfriend and I woke early, walked over to Dunkin Donuts for some coffee and munchkins, and hit the road--heading north to Pennslyvania. Our first stop was the Middle Creek Wildlife Management Area in Stevens, PA. We hiked along to the melodies of song birds and had quite a few woodpecker spottings. And at one point, there were more geese than my eyes could handle; I nearly mistook them for rocks. The only photographable wildlife, however, was a sad, injured raccoon.

After getting our nature fix, we proceeded to Lititz, PA, about fifteen minutes down the road. If you like the idea of a town filled with a chocolate aroma, Lititz is your place. It wasn't so much the chocolate that sold me--though I did stop into Wilbur Chocolate Co. for some dark chocolate covered espresso beans, it was the quaint town, filled with quaint-town tourists. A real slice of heaven here in the ol' US of A. After strolling the streets, we opted for diner at The Tomato Pie. I have no idea what tomato pie is, even after consuming a hearty slice, but I do know I would order and enjoy it again and again... tomato pie being an exceptionally good choice on a night where temperatures lingered around well below the freezing point. And since this was classified as a vacation, we splurged the $1.50 for a raspberry tart bar that I will never forget.

I failed to mention the Julius Sturgis Pretzel Bakery. Love. 

Our day was not over. The reason for our being in Lititz was to visit the Wolf Sanctuary of PA, something I dreamed of doing since the moment I found out it existed, weeks prior to our visit. The stars aligned--a full moon, meaning the monthly full moon tours fell on this three day weekend--and my heart filled with gusto. Of course, my love for wolves dates back prior to my May 2008 trip to Yellowstone National Park. Most of my "researching" has focused on reintroduction of wolves since then. The sanctuary--opposite in nature--left me conflicted going in. After my visit, I'm slightly convinced this is a better alternative for wolves whose life began domestically. For these wolves would stand no chance if "reintroduced" into the wild. Life most certainly seems a more preferred option to death. The real selling point for me was the staff. These people are dedicated to these wolves; they work at the sanctuary on a volunteer basis. In addition to all the hours served, they devote one weekend night a month to stand outside in the cold, cold (or hot, hot) dealing with people like me badgering them with questions about research, reintroduction, sustainability, etc.

To be fair, the majority of the crowd--and there was a crowd--was interested in knowing who the alpha wolf of each pack. The deep stuff. I couldn't help myself; I arrived with a notepad lineup of questions. Enduring the cold (and being prepared) paid off, I eventually had my moment--D, my favorite guide, to myself. Isn't it so that I would find myself bonding with a 60-year old man over wolves? His wife and him fell in love seven years ago, have relocated--now living 25 miles South of the wolves, and spend their retirement caring for wolves and helping out at the sanctuary as much as time will allow. As I mentioned to D, I would do the same tomorrow if Yellowstone NP had interest in 26-year old females with zero experience when hiring Park Rangers.

The night was so perfect. Such a special, special outing. If only every encounter--human, wolf, or town--could be so exhilarating.

From the sanctuary, suffering from a severe case of frostbite, Boyfriend and I made our way to the Alden House, our bed and breakfast for the night. The next morning certainly came sooner than I would have liked, breakfast was served promptly at 8:00 am. There were perks: The meal was delicious; someone else cooked; and another someone else did the dishes. We showered and made our way west of Gettyburg to Michaux State Forest for another serene, snowy hike (without the birds, this time). As a result of icy, snowy roads driving through the park was a bit slower than anticipated. And because of this, we stopped to notice and take in more than I would normally allow. When we cross the reservoir, we stopped, noticing it was entirely iced over--quite a bit different than our visit there in early July. To the horror of my mom--Boyfriend and I walked all over the reservoir observing the ice fishing holes.

(The ice was real thick, Mom. Promise. I only wished I had ice skates.)

And no! The weekend did not end here. Though our trip ended late Sunday night. We had all day Monday to live before the daily grind called us back to work. And it was on this Monday, I decided our lives needed cinnamon rolls. So I basically slaved away in the kitchen being schooled in Cinnamon Rolls 101 by The Pioneer Woman. And when I ended up with four large pans of cinnamon rolls, I decided the lives of our friends needed the freshly baked goodness too. I made some popcorn, a real compliment to the cinnamon rolls, and our friends worked their way(s) over for a viewing of The Way Way Back, a coming of age film released in early 2013. The movie was perfect for what we were looking for on the afternoon in anticipation the end of a Washington, D.C. snow drought on Tuesday (i.e., no work). The cinnamon rolls, I might add, were perfect. How could they not be? Anything with a quart of whole milk, two cups of butter, and three cups of sugar ought not taste bad.

Away went fat and happy friends, to prepare themselves for Tuesday and all its glory.

Warm Water and Cheese Shortages

So my morning started off much like the other mornings this week. Which is to say, ugly. After rolling out of bed, I fixed breakfast and packed lunches. And then I hopped in my normally scorching shower to a warm splash of water. This happened to be personal hygiene day; I sudsed up my hair with shampoo and began the shaving task while my dry to moisture shampoo worked it's way through my strands. That's when there was no more warm water. Not a drop. I'm really glad this occurred post my committment to shampooing, condition, and shaving--tasks that nearly triple my under the water time.

From there, I realized I was running late for work, so the breakfast I prepped had to be packed up and taken to the office... where I would munch in front of my computer screen. Such a healthy habit.

This is approximately the time my Microsoft Outlook stopped working and I began to peruse the day's headlines, where I learn of an impending Velveeta shortage. Well, this sent me reeling. I have a soft spot in my heart for Velveeta for two specific reasons: 1) The foundation of my mom's famous queso lies in Velveeta. I'm not sure what the shortage means for the parties of the future. And 2) As a Peace Corps Volunteer in Lesotho, I received care packages that often included a block of Velveeta. And with this soft and smooth, overly processed "cheese" I would build quesadillas on homemade, buttery tortillas. Then, of course, I would eat and eat and eat as though I had never experienced fine cuisine before. For all the currently serving PCVs, my sincerest condolences. Your life is about to get tough--be warned.

What kind of fresh hell is this, 2014? 

Reflections on the Holidays

The holidays are a fabulous time of year. As I grow older, I gain a fuller appreciation of the Thanksgiving and Christmas season. The lights. The music. The excitement. The togetherness. The wonder. The smells. The warmth. The memories of my childhood years. And the sweet memories being made each new year.

This appreciation is derived from the work that goes into creating holiday magic.

Planning.

Shopping.

Baking and cooking.

Making.

Writing Christmas cards--stuffing, addressing, and stamping.

Decorating.

Traveling. 

This year--and maybe even last year--the effort seemed worth it. I reveled in the payout. 

But then January came with a calm never before experienced. And I have to say, while December was crammed with fun activities and travel, the pause has been a blessing. I only have one weekend book this entire month. And before that weekend comes, I will continue to have ample time to catch my breath. 

Part of my distaste with the holidays prior, especially Christmas, is the mandatory consumerism. It burdens me. It stresses me out. It angers me. 

I tired to get away from that, giving gifts chocked-full with meaning and asking for only "stretch" need--defined as life enhancers that I would not necessarily purchase for myself. My list included a range of gifts ideas too, with no true expectations. And I tried not to control nearly as much. 

Again, the payout was spectacular. I was more excited to give than to receive. Check. Plus, I was gifted some incredible presents I would not have even known how to ask for. Check. And some [gifts] I asked for and admittedly like just as much. Check. 

I feel truly thankful for the generous people in my life. Exhibit A: Generosity with spending. As I become more aware of the expense of adult life (re: The 2014 Budget Crisis), I'm exponentially grateful for the kindness allotted by others. And Exhibit B: Generosity with time. While shopping for others requires time (and thought), a handmade gift is an exponential multiplier. The rate at which I live my life seems to end up costing me time. I want to be someone who choses to spend my time doing or making something for someone else. For now, I'll let Christmas 2013 be my example. 

So what is this blog, if it's not a play-by-play documentation of my life? To highlight a few of my favorites, from M.R.B. I received an afghan she crocheted. The afghan is beautiful. And warm. And colorful. And cozy. I'm obsessed. I have cuddled up with it every night since opening. 

And S.M.S., my brother's girlfriend, stitched me an apron. The front (or back) displays all things Atlanta Braves and the reverse is Clemson University themed. From my kitchen, I'll be able to cheer all year long. How practical. And fun.

These women did incredible jobs. I have no idea how much time and effort when into crafting my apron; I do, however, have an idea about the blanket. Because apparently the blanket wasn't enough, I "got" a hobby for Christmas too. Today marks the time, I consider myself a skilled beginner in the single stitch (crochet). My mini masterpiece is highlighted below. It's nothing, i.e., not a scarf or a blanket. It simply displays my progress single stitch during a holiday afternoon, a Sunday NFL Playoff Game, and the BCS National Championship. I'm going to take up my first project here real soon and turn this blog into my gallery. Only kidding.

So my point: M.R.B. worked really hard. (I'm sure S.M.S. did too!) And for a long period of time--my estimate has me guessing forever--to produce this cherished gift.

If you're on my 'good list' for 2014, I see pot holders, coasters, place mats, hats, and/or tech cozies in your future. From my craft room to yours, be inspired.

Though I basically just spent 482 words describing how much there is to celebrate in receiving, I feel compelled to close with a thank you to the hosts and travelers throughout November and December. I imagined the holidays would grow dull with age under the assumption there wouldn't be as much to celebrate. Well there is much more the celebrate than presents, it seems--the time with family in Boston, Massachusetts to Atlanta, Georgia to Phoenix, Arizona above all. A big, big thank you to the special people in my life for sharing this stellar season with me.

The 2014 Budget Crisis

My holiday conversation topics were investment-related. How to. How much. Where. Boyfriend and I left Boston, Massachusetts with a starting point, in addition to a plethora of reading material. While Boyfriend is devouring Bogleheads' Guide to Investing by Michael LeBoeuf... I'm still working up the courage.

I thought a childhood of hoarding money would get me through life. I thought I knew "enough" about saving and budgeting. I thought depositing a large chunk of money into my 401K each paycheck was an accomplishment.

For the past four years, my yearly savings have gone to weddings of childhood, high school, and college friends. This year--without a single wedding on the agenda--I'm planning to save like a grown up.

In order to do so, I sat down and made a real budget. A do-not-spend-more-than-$XXX.XX-on-groceries budget. My budget painted a gloom picture. It will be tough to save even five grand on my meager income. Since that is essentially the cost to lease my car each year, this amount will not go far. This [budget] exercise demonstrated the speed at which my spending habits add up. Not only the save-for-a-big-purchase-and-buy ones but the monthly ones too. The rent. The eating out. The electric payments. The haircuts.
 
From this I have deduced, I am a lifetime behind on education in regards to finances. There should be lessons on budgeting and investing and retirement and saving and topics of those sorts beginning in kindergarten. Because here's the thing: I'm a very frugal person. Or I thought I was until I met Boyfriend. Once he got past buying lunch each day, he became The Cheapest Man Alive. Turns out making purchases on clearance, couponing, eating leftovers, reusing baggies, picking up change on the street, and checking books out at the local library won't make me rich secure a modest future.

Here's the other thing: I have nice taste. I enjoy pedicures. I love J. Crew (on sale). I want all the fanciest kitchen appliances, namely a Vitamix. And with Christmas just behind us, I purchased a Garmin Forerunner 410. Gulp.

(I'm already obsessed with it... though it has yet to arrive.)

So I made my budget. And I made my goal, or dream--to own a home, soon.

But you know what? My credit history is nonexistent despite owning a credit card for eight years and paying it in full every month. And turns out all those bills my roommates had in their names could have been building my credit history. Hindsight.

What else have I learned?

1. Houses are expensive. 
2. They require down payments. 
3. And mortgages. 
4. And getting approved.
5. They also require a place to (permanently) settle.

I must stop writing. I am just so overwhelmed. The end.

Life is tough. Adult life is tougher.

2014 Personal Goals

I make a lot of lists. Grocery lists. To-do lists. Lists of restaurants to try. Things I need. Gift ideas. Books I have read. Project ideas. And we all know, there is nothing more satisfying than crossing items off a list. For the past several years, I have created lists to challenge myself. This year instead of setting a goal for the year, I decided to publish my resolution for each month. Maybe this will serve as my accountability?

Without further ado, here are my goals for 2014:

January - Finish decorating and organizing the "new" apartment.
February - Follow a strict vegan diet.
March - Read five books.
April - Floss daily. Wash face daily.
May - Host three dinner parties.
June - Run three miles daily.
July - Take one picture a day.
August - Write one blog post per week.
September - Treat myself and someone else to something special.
October - Do 1000 crunches. Do 1000 push ups.
November - Try six new recipes.
December - Journal daily.

In addition to these goals, I'm going to tackle a fitness, personal, reading, and spiritual goal. To enhance my fitness, I will aim to complete four half marathons and compete in an olympic distance triathlon. My personal goal is to pronounce, read, and write the Arabic alphabet. I would also like to finish 30 books this year--my reading goal. And last, my spiritual plan will be to enjoy a solitude day--eight hours per month, in addition to a weekend alone for the year. This will perhaps be my most important task of the year. It will be a stretch, but I need and like this challenge as well as the others I have set.

"Another year is a collection of minutes. Want a better year? Just spend some minutes doing something better along the way." (Dr. Henry Cloud)