First I went to Natural Bridge. Then I dreamed it was blindingly foggy and I had to walk across that plank of death.

For St. Patrick's Day, we decided to go to the Gorge and do a little hiking, maybe meet up with our friends Lena and Dustin. Lena and Dustin are rock climbers, probably world famous ones but because they are in Kentucky, you'd never know it. Isn't that weird how people can be heroes elsewhere and completely ignored in Kentucky? I'm looking at you, Sam Shepard.

Anyway, since it was Spring Break, we got up about 1, finally got to the Gorge around 2, then Mack had to eat tofu pizza at a place called Miguel's, and finally at about 3 we started the hike to Natural Bridge. Mack had never been there before and it'd been almost a decade since my last visit, so it was awesome. Maybe the degree of awesome has something to do with how drunk on sunshine I was, but for now, I'm giving all the credit to Kentucky. You hear that Kentucky? I have given you one point for your combination of tofu pizza, beautiful scenery, and sunshine. Relish in it.

The type of proud a 1-mile hike will get you.

Still have no idea how this was formed? Anyone?

Nature's Size Restrictions

I did not have to turn sideways to fit through this thing. That was nice. Even though I look like a fat ass in this picture.

Fearless. Because he does not have a built-in toochie alert system.

Crack kills. So do ledges.

Taking it in like a leisurely Daniel Boone.

This was nothing after those bridges in Ghana.

After the hike, we found some spotty cell phone reception and caught up with Dustin and Lena, who'd been in the throes of a plumbing disaster all day. We went with them for a "soda pop" and ended up at "a gigantic rock wall on the side of the road that I had no clue existed even though we'd driven past it 3 times." It's called Road Side. It is beautiful.

They wanted to scramble in a climb before the sun went down, so we craned our necks and watched these spider monkeys go where no man was meant to go. Then I took a turn.

This is half of the madness of Road Side.

About a million waterfalls above and below us.

And they're off.

And off some more, all the way to the top!

Dustin makes it look harder than Lena but easier than it is.

My turn! Yeah, there aren't any ropes. Yeah, I'm all of 2 feet off the ground.

Mack dreaming big.

I'm already bored on Spring Break and it's only Tuesday.

Today I googled myself. Here are the results:

Actress best known for her role in Hook. As an adult, she is still more widely known for her childhood role in Hook than I am for anything. Interestingly, I, too, was a child actress, playing the role of Mom Whose Face Was Scraped to Shreds from a Failed Bike Jump off the Porch in the thriller called The Case of the Gone Gobbler.

Photographer in Toronto who has "been able to take my passion for photography and fuse it with my love of design." This is not me, but I also do that, only instead of half dressed, red-lipped waifs, I take photos of fat babies, pregnant ladies, and optimistic brides. 

Author of romantic novels and screenplays, many of which answer such questions as "Have you ever wondered what it would be like to travel back in time? To howl at the moon? To kiss a girl?" Again, this is not me. SHUT UP LEIGH. AND SHANNON.

Thanks to my husband, I don't have to get raped by mechanics anymore.

While it's not exactly the comeback I wanted (one featuring sand and coconut scented lotion and a cooler of Corona), it was nice to see my beach towel making an outside appearance yesterday while Mack changed the brake pads.

And in case you missed that, Mack changed the brake pads. In our driveway. Without power tools. And it only cost us $31.78 plus $12 for a weird cube piston tool.

Like my beach towel, Mack's handiness rarely makes an appearance, but when it does, it makes being married totally worth it.

Mmmmmmm. Vegannnnn.

I get a hankering for bakering sometimes, and when I do, it usually involves cupcakes. Specifically VEGAN CUPCAKES THAT ARE ABOUT TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD.

My vegan cupcakes seldom turn out the way I intend. I mean, they turn out delicious, but there's always some *performance issue.

There's always been some problem with "falling," a crisis easily cloaked with a batch of homemade vegan buttercream icing and glamorous toppings. This time, the *performance issue involved a stubborn refusal to separate from the cupcake liner. (In defense of the recipe, I was out of cooking spray and had to finagle some impromptu "greasing techniques" that are not cookbook sanctioned.)

Yes, I made two batches to make sure the "falling" wasn't my fault. Yes, that type of determination required a Dos Equis. Yes, we ate paper. Yes, they were so delicious that we ate them, offered them to friends, and laughed on the inside as our friends also succumbed to eating paper in order to get at the deliciousness of VEGAN CUPCAKES THAT ARE ABOUT TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD.

Here's where we go to worship vegan. You're invited. Yes, there is vegan mac and cheese, and it will probably save your life, so there. 

Here's how you can attempt to get your friends to eat paper so you can laugh at them. All in good health.

Lilly says, "I LOVE MY VEGAN-ISH
UNCLE. AND HIS HAIRY FACE."

VEGAN CARROT CAKE CUPCAKES

2/3 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
2/3 cup sugar (you can also use agave nectar)
1/3 cup vegetable oil (use 1/4 cup if you use agave nectar)
1/3 cup soy yogurt (plain or vanilla)
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup finely grated carrots
1/4 cup chopped walnuts for the cupcakes, 1/3 c. for sprinkling on top after icing
1/4 cup raisins


1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line muffin tin with 12 cupcake liners. Spray the shit out of them so your cupcake won't stick.

2. In a medium mixing bowl, mix together sugar, vegetable oil, yogurt, and vanilla. Sift in the dry ingredients (flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt and spices), and mix until smooth. Fold in carrots, walnuts and raisins.

3. Fill the liners 2/3 full. Bake for 26-28 minutes, until a toothpick inserted through the center of one comes out clean. Try not to let anything in your house move or else they may "fall." Whisper nice things to them. But not too loudly.

4. Once fully cooled, top generously with cream cheese frosting. And not that poison you buy at the store. I am doing a trial run of some cupcakes for an upcoming soiree, and today I looked at that store icing crap. Holy Ba-Jesus... 2g trans fats per serving!!! Vegan icing is uber easy and not going to kill you. Here's a recipe for Vegan Cream Cheese Icing that's great with these cupcakes.

VEGAN CREAM CHEESE ICING
1/4 c. non-hydrogenated margarine, softened (I use Smart Balance)
1/4 c. vegan cream cheese, softened (I use Tofutti)
2 c. confectioners' sugar
1 tsp. vanilla extract

Cream together margarine and cream cheese until just combined. Use a handheld mixer to whip while adding the confectioners' sugar in 1/2 c. batches. Mix until smooth and creamy, then mix in the vanilla. Keep tightly covered and refrigerated until ready to use. No, it's not okay for your spouse to catch you eating it with your fingers just because it's not full of trans fats. NOTED.

Study Day

Mack and I both have tests this week, which means that the Weekend of Warmth & Delight had to be dedicated to cerebral pursuits.

So we went to the cemetery to study. It's kind of like the library in that everyone is quiet. But there's also sunshine. And trees. And animals. And air. And lots of good distractions that are way more fun than doing the dishes.

Hopefully our sneaky play big, intense study day pays off.

I'd totally risk Nintendo Thumb for this.

Male Man

I have subscribed to a ton of beauty magazines to become more in-the-know about "prestige" fashion.

Mack gets the mail because it is on the outside and I don't like acknowledging there is outside when that cold white stuff is everywhere. Yesterday he brought in the new Glamour with the mail.

"The phone bill came, and Kim Kardashian wants to show me her boobs." Talk about delivery.

Boy Vs. Girl

That is him then.

This is her now.

She's a holds the nursing pose a little bit longer with her mouth and there's a little bit of difference in their noses and lips, but there is no question these two come from the same place. 

A place called Gorgeoustowncheekaliciousville.

A Baby Story

Monday morning I woke up on the special air mattress-tempur pedic-luxury-bed (one of my dad's specialties, along with pancakes) to a very pregnant Leiah prancing around.

Keep in mind, this same woman has a chair in front of her bathroom mirror so she can sit down to brush her teeth and a stool in front of the pantry so she can take a break while she looks for the macaroni and cheese. That is how pregnant she is.

One week overdue, Leiah had started leaking (just like Venus used to do!!) late Sunday night, but nothing like the gush we were expecting. Monday morning though, there was some gushing... not like TV caliber but definitely real life caliber.

She had a weekly checkup scheduled at 12:50 and wasn't in any pain, so we ate breakfast, got ready, and then went to the appointment. The doctor told us to go to the hospital.

Which we did after we stopped by Jimmy John's to eat lunch, ran by the house to get Leiah's things, dropped Ben off with his Dude, and made a few phone calls. Once you get to the hospital, there's no more eating, and once you get into labor, there's no room for anything else.

Once Leiah was settled in her room, we played Spades, listened to Eminem, and taught my mom some "club" dance moves.

We must have been having too much fun because the nurse came in and said, "Well, if you're up playing cards, then we're not doing our job." The doctor told Leiah that since her water had broken and since her temperature was going up that they wanted her to deliver as soon as possible and hopefully keep the baby from getting an infection. Cue the pitocin.

Also cue Leiah moaning and breathing and doing her best to get through every contraction. Alli did her massage magic on Leiah's back, Mom read poetry about motherhood and delivery out of a book called Tender Hooks, and things got very quiet. Matty G. was kicked out of the room, and then Leiah eeked out her wish for an epidural.

Leiah was like a new woman after the epidural. She could still move her legs a little, and she wasn't in any pain.

My dad stopped by to visit, and when he left, we turned off all the lights and rested. Mom laid down on one of those hospital sleeper chairs, put a sheet over her head and tried to sleep, but I was way too jazzed for this to be over so suddenly. I sat by Leiah and watched her rest. There she was, my little sister, doing grown up things that I'm too afraid to try. I thought about when she was born and I visited her in the hospital, how I knew she was my sister but how little that meant then. She was more like something my mom had to deal with, something not really relevant to my life. Four-year-olds have no idea.

The nurse came in to check her at about 11pm, and she was at 10 cm. The lights came on, an army of medical people rushed in, a mirror was put in place, the bed was dismantled, instructions were given, and pushing was started. Leiah pushed two times and we could see Lilly's head.

Now, up until that moment, I've never seen a baby's head coming out of the love tunnel. I'd seen Heather give birth, but my eyes were locked on her, the anguish in her forehead, the out of body experience she was having. It was so surreal I couldn't look away, so I never saw Cole make his way into the world. This time, I stared into Leiah's lady parts, looked at that baby's head, and just when I was thinking it, Leiah said, "Ohhh, that looks weird."

The baby's head was all shriveled and squished, so much so that it didn't really look like a head. It looked hard and gray, like a giant dried up potato. I don't know why but the word "trachea" popped into my head when I first saw it. Leiah waited for another contraction, pushed two more times, and that suspicious potato became one of the most beautiful human beings alive. Her entire torso was out after those pushes, so the doctor told us to take pictures and told Leiah to reach down and grab her. Lillian left her momma's insides, came to rest on her chest, and has pretty much been there ever since.

Any forgetting day now.

Last Monday was Leiah's due date. And now it's Sunday, and Lillian seems to have no desire to come meet us. Perhaps we should make brownies.

Poor Leiah has been sick as a dog for the last week, alternating between stuffed up and oozing, so maybe Lilly is being good to her momma and letting her recover a bit before going through the trauma of childbirth. And having a newborn. And being sleep deprived. And I'll stop there.

I can't wait for Lilly to get here. I've gone so far as to stimulate Leiah's left breast (the right one is sore) to try to induce labor, something that is probably totally annoying but that Leiah, in her sick and tired state, isn't motivated enough to fend off. Betsy and I tried to invent a have-the-baby dance that involved a lot of awkward squatting, but then company came over and we acted right.

I've been keeping my phone on me (MIRACLE), limiting my beer intake, and making sure I put an asterisk on commitments so I can leave at a moment's notice and go fill my role on the Welcoming Committee whenever I get the call. I've never been with one of my sisters when they've given birth to a baby, and I can't wait to support Leiah and share this overwhelming experience with her.

Also, I love babies.

Snow Day

I spent the day with the cutest boy alive today. We played in the snow, drank hot cocoa with marshmallows and whipped cream, did some fingerpainting, and went swimming. He told me he loved me about 50 times and that my boobs were gross. I knocked him down a lot and fake tried to drown him. We had a blast.

 

 

During our painting session we got to chatting, and out of the blue he said, "I had a boyfriend named God once. He was square with a round head." Turns out God had lots of guns and nets and "he also had the largest gun that could kill good people." Isn't he the best?

One Night Stand

That New Year's Resolution is off to a good start. Or at least an ambitious one.

What happens when you don't pay your bills.

This morningish (we got up around 11) started out like most mornings de winter, with both of us in bed trying to invent reasons we should get out of bed even though it's like 11 degrees out there.

I'm not lazy; it's just cold.

Eventually the responsibilities of social networking got me up and Mack, with no one left to endorse this bad behavior, decided to get on with his day too. I hopped on the computer, he hopped in the shower.

Squeak, bang, creak, squeak, thunk.

"Is the water guy outside?" yells a frantic bathroom voice.

"Wha?" I say as I get up and go to the window to look out. "Yeah."

"Catch him!"

Without thinking, I burst through the front door, down the steps and started yelling after the KAWC truck. "HEY! HEY! HEY! WAIT!!!"

As The Man Who Ruined Today rounded the corner and out of sight, I returned to the moment and realized I'm in public, on a busy street, in semi-transparent blue polka dotted pajama pants, a stretched out grey t-shirt sans bra, and electric pink furry boot slippers that should only be worn by 13 year olds. Aka too sexy.

I went inside to preserve my dignity and explain to Mack that The Man Who Ruined Today got away, and you know that scene in A Christmas Story where the dad's cusses are all mumbles and grrrs? Yeah, that became my life for about 15 minutes.

Since we'd been gone for most of December, the mail had gotten out of control. We went through it when we got home, and I remembered seeing a KAWC bill and putting in on Mack's desk to be paid. There was nothing else from them, just a bill, and it was due Jan. 12. No problem, except that they turn off your water within the month if you don't pay the bill for that month before your next bill is due, a policy that, along with the fact that they don't knock to give you one last chance to pay, qualifies them as Asshole Cuntbag Dickfaces.

I immediately called them to pay the past due bill, the current bill, the $26 Because We Haven't Fucked You Enough Charge and the $1.80 Rape Charge for Paying Over the Phone. With a confirmation number in hand and a promise to have the water back on today in place, the next issue to deal with was Mr. Grumbles.

The Man Who Ruined Today came just after Mack's shower, which was good, but right in the middle of Mack's manscaping, which is oh-so bad. Mack is a hairy gorilla, and because he shaves probably once a month, when he finally does it, it is a project. A project that requires water.

When he opened the door to show me "what I'm dealing with," it was too much. There he stood, his entire torso and face splotchy with shaving cream and newly cut hairs, a mess of man flesh that needed nothing but rinsed.

Unfortunately, our options were scarce. There was a vase that was soaking after I rinsed out a bunch of cigarettes and melted snow left by our mail-getter Scotty and a pot of water that I'd boiled eggs in yesterday.

I passed them into Mack as options and silently affirmed my belief that showers are overrated. I also found my water bottle from yesterday's gym trip and another one that Leigh left here a few days ago (I think), two sources that gave us about 2 cups of clean water. We decided those should be saved for brushing teeth.

Mack closed himself into the bathroom and did his best to solve a problem we haven't had to deal with since the bucket showers of Ghana days. He emerged smelling an extra lot like shaving cream.

"What'd you go for?" I asked him. "The egg water or the cigarette water?"

I can't imagine a more disgusting choice to make. He went for the eggs.

Enjoy 2011. Because the world is supposed to end next year.

The First 48 Hours

Congrats to Will and Kristin for having one of the most delicious babies ever.

Why I Got Fatter in California that I Do in Kentucky.

I'm sort of on an eating tour, going to my favorite diners and restaurants in LA while I have the chance. At the top of the list was Real Food Daily, a vegan restaurant that is so good it blows my mind. Here's where I binged on Not-chos, enchiladas with tomatillo sauce and plantains, and a peanut butter chocolate cupcake. It is also where I gained my first five pounds.

Mmmmmm. Oink, oink.

Yesterday.

I'm on a plane.

Blogging. Yes, that is happening right now. Delta is giving free wifi for the holidays so while I'm en route to LA, I am internetting.

I love being alive in this day and age.

For Jen.

You will be laughing your ass off.

Secret Lives

Heather sent me a little discovery she made into Mack's secret life.

And to think, all this time I thought his secret life involved a half-naked blonde, stoned musicians and some Remy Martin.

An aside, I'm not really sure what frontiersmen and Indians getting along has to do with Jesus being happy? Someone explain this to me.

A is for Amber.

Why yes, that is an A on my report card. And yes, that nursing class does qualify me to stick a thermometer up your pooper and give you a shot.

Diagnosis Nebraska Mouth

During the 7th season of the Ultimate Fighter, a reality show featuring some incredibly fit and sexy guys aspiring mixed martial artists, there was this guy named C.B. Dollaway. He was an alright fighter to watch, but there was something annoying about him. Something about his mouth specifically.

It was more like a butt hole than a mouth, which is so gross, I know, but that's what I thought every time I saw it and that's why I hated C.B. Dollaway. I was expressing this admittedly superficial and unfounded distaste for this particular fighter based on his mouth to Mack one day, and Mack, demonstrating his special way with words, described it as Nebraska Mouth.

Since then, we've been on the lookout for Nebraska Mouth. To help you diagnose people, here's a visual compilation of Nebraska Mouthed people.

A Few of the Afflicted: Ryan Bader, Stephan Bonnar, Spencer Pratt, and, of course, C.B. Dollaway

We recently also spotted Mississippi Mouth, but we haven't quite designated it as a condition yet. Research pending...

Naked. Pragnet. Lady.

Leiah has a better body 8 months pregnant than I had in my teens. Although in my teens I had one boob that was a C-cup and one that was a no-cup-necessary and my tenth year screwed my teens by lacquering some stretchmarks across my lower back, so that's not saying much.

Here she is at 7 months pregnant, looking more Baywatch in a bikini than I have on my best day. You know, if Baywatch had pregnant lifeguards.

As part of Leiah's shower (and because I like to take pictures), we did a little photo shoot and turned it into a slideshow to up the excitement surrounding the arrival of Lillian Blake. I think the photos we got were stunning, Leiah as gorgeous and serene as I've seen her in the past decade. It almost made me want to be pregnant... except that I'd get all fat and stretched and nauseous and angry and it would be awful. Plus, who would take care of that baby?

We're just a couple of days away from the end of Leiah's 8th month, which means little Lillian will be here in 36ish days! And I'll get all the joys of a new baby without all the sleep deprivation. I love my sisters.