Sack Of Snug

Am I a tomato or strawberry? Apple maybe?

The best part is the bottom of this thing is folded under and the end is all the way up to my waist tightened with a drawstring. All 5 feet 2 inches of me gets swallowed up in a sleeping bag.

Remember the snuggie?

We uncovered the puffy version in Jase’s gear. I promptly made fun of it and then had to take it all back once I put it on. It’s the warmest, coziest sack I’ve ever been embraced by. I will likely live in it.

The last few days have been a roller coaster, I’ve somehow managed to recover my sense of humor.

Jase and I are back on track and moving forward with our plans.

Will update more when I can, just wanted y’all to know I’m still laughing.

I miss reading everyone’s blogs and interacting. Sending you all light, love and snuggie hugs!

P.S. I’m still not best friends with my instant pot.

Instant Pain In The Ass

It’s easy they said.

You can cook anything they said.

To prepare for living in the woods, I thought a good investment would be an instant pot. They’ve been around for a few years.

I’ve heard and read great things.

Online searches bring up positive feedback and mouthwatering recipes.

My own mind created visions of simple, healthy, low cost, backwoods meals with easy clean up.

My first impression: WHAT THE FUCK DID I GET MYSELF INTO?

The manual is pathetic. Using this thing IS rocket science and the manual is the equivalent of a 1st grade book. There’s nothing in it. It doesn’t even explain what each button is for. I feel like I’m the girl who got her period and no one explained it to me beforehand. I’M LOST.

Looking for answers on the internet is like trying to find real news on Covid-19. Laughable while simultaneously frustrating and confusing.

We had chicken drumsticks and rice in the house. I figured why not give it a whirl. Below is an online picture next to a picture of reality.

Although it looked unappetizing it tasted decent. I was impressed with the rice. It did have a better consistency than that of a rice cooker.

What no one tells you is it takes the instant pot time to warm up and build the pressure it needs to quickly cook the food. So a recipe that boasts of a cook time of 5 to 10 minutes is more like 20 minutes.

Now for the best part. We had a box of pancake mix in the house and I found a recipe for a giant instant pot pancake.

How hard could that be? See pictures below. Online and reality

This fucker was a bitch to make.

I followed the instructions to a T. Once the instant pot got going it started beeping and flashing a “burn food” warning.

Awesome.

It took an hour. Yes an hour to make this pathetic pale pancake and there is an inch of it burnt to the bottom of the pan.

Jase, the optimist that he is, ate it enthusiastically with a stick of butter and container of syrup.

If you weren’t worried about us moving into the woods before, you should be now. We are likely to starve out there.

There are plenty of instant pot cookbooks, but I’m not a fan.

I find cookbooks to be full of things I’d never eat, like tomato wheatberry soup, and by the time you purchase all the ingredients you’ve spent a weeks worth of grocery money on one recipe.

I prefer things basic.

I’m not giving up.

I will love the instant pot and the insanity it rode in on.

My Produce Made A Funny

I forgot my mesh bags at home.

The produce decided to strike a pose after scanning.

The cashier and I shared a “masked” belly laugh.

Does anyone else miss seeing peoples mouths?

Not in a creepy way, but in a “missing rich interactions” way.

Crazy how not seeing a persons face in its entirety dulls communication.

Peppered Peter

Jase here. It was said in our loving nursery rhymes that….

Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. I can’t really speak for Peter. At least not the Peter from these kids stories. I can only speak for another Peter. Mine, and what devastating results I had by picking up a few Jalapeno peppers to put in my Pho yesterday for flavor.

Ya see Mare and I went out for lunch to get some Vietnamese noodle soup known as Pho. It’s all the rage out here in Colorado. You can find it on every street corner. During lunch i joked to Mare….”hey babe remember to tell me to wash my hands later in case we are feeling our oats and decide to get a bit frisky”. We had a great laugh and forgot all about it.

That’s the problem. We forgot all about it!!! When we got home I had to pee before throwing on my bike shorts and going out for a ride. As much as I forgot about my unwashed hands, the jalapeno pepper oils didn’t forget they coated my fingers.

Five minutes later I felt like i rubbed BenGay ointment or maybe isopropyl alcohol on my junk. I had an inferno raging in my spandex tights. I rode my cyclocross bike for about two hours. The extra pressure on the nose of my saddle coupled with the abrasive sliding back and forth as I was climbing kinda took my mind of the burn in one area and spread it to the lactic acid in my muscles.

But, when i got home and hit the shower, the blaze started back up. It was like when you eat “atomic” hot wings and you take a drink of water. It doesn’t do crap for you mouth. In fact it feels like it spreads the burn to other areas. Same with the shower water. It intensified the burn.

As we all know from wings, you need blue cheese to extinguish the flames in your mouth and lips. Unfortunately, we didn’t have blue cheese in the house to put my junk in. We only had ranch dressing and well we only had enough for our salads last night…..

Imogene “Idgie” Threadgoode

Photo by me

Jase and I out in public is at best hysterical.

Today’s adventure was the hospital. I gave the elderly man at the front desk my information. I could have sworn when he looked at the gal and gentleman next to him he said, “Imogene”.

A grin broke out on my face. Bubbling with enthusiasm, I blurted out, “Imogene! I love that name! That is such a great name, who’s name is Imogene?”

Jase standing next to me, “No Mare, imaging.”

Me, “I know honey, Imogene, isn’t that a great name!”

At this point, I was perplexed why no one behind the counter volunteered themselves as Imogene. Why no one was sharing in my excitement. Why was everyone looking at me like I pooped my pants?

Jase, “I-M-A-G-I-N-G, imaging honey, no one’s name is Imogene.”

If you’re familiar with the book/movie “Fried Green Tomatoes”, the name Imogene holds a special place in your heart. Much more than “imaging” ever will.

I’ll now hand the keyboard over to Jase to regale his take on this mornings exchange:

Jase here. Honestly there’s not much more to say. Mare was out of pocket; a total comic relief this morning. After she heard what she wanted to hear…the name I-M-O-G-E-N-E, she stood around looking like the only kid on the playground who didn’t get the punchline to the joke.

I’m allowed to poke fun of Mare. I tease her and say she’s not really a Ginger or Day Walker (with all of her cute freckles and gorgeous red locks of hair that stretch down to her butt). I say she’s more of a blonde dying her hair red. Or that she lives under the world’s deepest rock. Why? Cause she rips on me too. I’m pretty clueless. I have book smarts like math and physics, but when it comes to practical knowledge, that’s a different story. I have the street smarts of June Cleaver. But together….well we make up one well rounded brain…lemme just add a very good looking brain at that.

Mare here again.

There’s something about genuine laughter that lightens the heaviest of situations.

On our drive to the hospital, we listened to one of my favorite tunes. The lyrics help direct me to a better place. They remind me to honor all emotions and that we’re all in this together. Oooo this song gives me the “goosies” every time.

A Proper Ass~hat

When you are asked to purchase coffee, please remember to take it out of the car when you get home.

If by chance you forget, and 30 inches of snow falls while you sleep, be a proper ass~hat.

Dig it out for your coffee deprived girlfriend.

My “Shining” Moment

I channeled my inner Jack Nicholson the other night when I came home to a locked house and no keys.

Clearly I did not get as far as Jack and the only resident on the other side of the door was Cricket the cat meowing for me to fill her food dish. The only fear was the fear of starvation.

I will say I looked more fashionable than Jack in my camouflage sequined jeans and my fringe Minnetonka suede boots. Take that Jack, this chick knows how to beat a door down in style.

I also created a masterpiece for a kick ass photo, and for that I am quite proud.

I sat in my car for 2 hours until Jase got home.

He opened a window……….

Your Excuse To Quit The Gym

Cancel your gym memberships now.

If you were looking for an excuse, you have one. It’s unsanitary.

Think of all the holey crotched leggings with no underwear barrier between sweaty, sometimes bloody privates and the gym equipment that YOU are using.

Who knows if the perpetrator actually washed their hands after all that digging down under.

Something for you to think about the next time you’re slaving away at the gym.

You’re welcome………

Yes, this is a real text from someone lovely in my life……they might be a member at your gym.

Don’t even get me started on the dingleberry hanging from the ass…….

We’re Pigs In a Barn

Photo by me

We live like pigs.

Not really, but it can feel that way at times.

This morning I went to grab a coffee cup out of the dishwasher. What the fudge, it was dirty?????

We had my second son up for dinner last night, and I have vivid memories of Jase pulling dishes out of the dishwasher and serving us dinner.

From a quick survey of the kitchen, it’s plain to see last nights dinner mess strewn about.

WE SERVED DINNER ON DIRTY DISHES

We’re nothing more than pigs in a barn.