a girl in her element

When you mix sausage, broccoli and pasta together, you just can’t go wrong!  You really, really can’t.  Well, at least in my crazy broccoli-loving world.

Boil sausage and pasta.  You can use any kind of sausage.  This time I’m using andouille, but I’ve used cheddar and hot links in the past.   Drain both.

Combine 1 cup of chicken broth, 2 tablespoons of balsamic vinegar, red pepper flakes and parsley flakes.  Bring to a boil and throw the sausage in there.

Combine sausage/sauce mix with pasta.  You can add more or less red pepper flakes depending on how spicy you want it.

I like to add vegetables in with mine.  I heat up the veggies in a steamer bag and then throw them on top.  I’m a broccoli lover, but you can substitute broccoli with just about any other veggie.

October 27th was the Element’s first birthday!  To celebrate (and partially because I always need a reason for cookies), I made a little something.

My headless nature is why I need a new photographer.

My lovely drawing and an attempt at planning ahead. Art is so not my thing.

And there you have it!  A birthday cookie for (of?) the Element.  There were a few lessons learned from this -

1.  Get a new photographer.  Boys are only focused on two things – the food and ahem… I think you can figure out the other one.

2.  Art is not my thing.

3.  Decorating cookies is not my thing.

4.  Being a cookie monster and eating myself into a cookie coma IS my thing!

It’s super duper windy today in Vegas.  The kind of day where the stop lights are dangerously swinging back and forth.  The kind of day where you can’t go outside without a swish of sand flying into your eyes.  The kind of  day where shopping carts go flying across the parking lot… straight into your car.

Because that’s exactly what happened to me today.  I get in my car after picking up some craft supplies, look down to stick the key in the ignition, look back up and spot a grocery cart flying straight towards my car from the other end of the parking lot at a bajillion miles an hour.

Seriously… it was a bajillion miles an hour.  I scientifically measured it.

Okay, I didn’t but still it was rushing fast towards my car.  I didn’t have time to jump out of the car and stop it.  It hit my car – making enough noise to wake the dead… or at least some very heavy sleepers.  I winced, cowered, cringed, grimaced and cursed all at the same time.

I scrambled out, taking a quick glance around to make sure there weren’t any more stray carts zooming towards the car… or worse… my butt.

I was sure there’d be a huge dent in the front of my car.  At least a good size chunk of paint missing.  I slowly creeped around to the bumper, hesitantly glanced at it and that’s when I remembered!

My bumper has plastic panels!  And they were all in one piece.  No dents.  No scratches.  No cracks.  Just a nice layer of dust (but of course, that’s my fault for not washing my car in who knows how many months).

Without the plastic panels, I’m positive there would have been a sizable crater on the front of my car.  The plastic panels save the day!

I wrote awhile back about my love affair for Denver… my mysterious love for Denver.  Once in awhile, I have the rare moment where my decisions are not misguided because after spending five days there (one of which I ran around the city), I have decided I do indeed love Denver, and I have my reasons.

Setting out on foot to see the sights of Denver.

Whoa, that’s a tall building!

And two very shiny buildings!

The state capitol – I have a bit of an obsession with state capitols, so true to character, I proceeded to take 9,827 photos of it… and I was the only one out there with a camera!  Boy, did I feel out of place.  But hey, what’s new?

10,973 shots later.   Hey, be happy I only made you look at a few of them.

Aww man, I’m starting to get hungry out here.

And I’m a little lost.  Where am I?  Why do I have no sense of direction?  Where are my pants?!

Maybe this dude knows… Nope, he didn’t.

Wahhhh, I’m getting so famished that I’m starting to pace up and down the street, and the world is looking topsy-turvy.

Aha!  The tall building is back.   I must be getting close.

Woohoo!  The hotel!  I’m no longer lost.  I do have a sense of direction… but I still can’t find my pants.

And of course, the reasons for going to Denver in the first place -

BEFORE

AFTER

Looking put-together and classy after a half marathon is not one of my strengths.  Actually I’m not sure looking put-together and classy is EVER one of my strengths, but alas, that’s a story for another day.

I’m wandering along the streets of downtown Denver, minding my own business.

I see a squirrel scamper down from a tree.  Nothing new.  Less than 15 minutes ago, I saw two of them running around doing some kind of mating dance.  These squirrels here in Denver are crazy.

So this squirrel starts burrowing in a pile of leaves.  He doesn’t even notice that I’m there watching him.  Being the dork I am, I decide I want a photo of this.  I hurriedly whip my camera out and snap – this is what I got…

He flashed me!

Either that he’s doing an uncanny impersonation of Kevin from Home Alone.

The Honda Element has been re-assigned a new job – bug catcher.  No, wait… bug killer… or bug smasher.  Because man, oh man, it does a stellar job of that.  Most of the bugs I see in there are little and harmless.  It’s quite disappointing.

The last thing the bugs see flash before their beady, squinty, little eyes is this.   Poor fellas.

Imagine my joy when I found this plastered to the Element the other day… not one but TWO bugs smushed together.

Warning: picture below not for those with a faint heart… or a fear of bugs… or the easily squeamished (is that a word?)

See, told you it was’t pretty!

And yet… it kind of is, in the weirdest way possible.  But then again, I don’t mind  bugs.  I want a pet tarantula for crying out loud.  Pft, two dead bugs splattered together is nothing.

Oh my gosh, WAIT!

Did one of their legs just twitch in front of me?

Oh my god!  Take the picture and move!  Move, move, move!  Hurry!  The leg is still twitching! Run for your life!  I bet it’s got a machine gun… and a sword… and this is all just a trick! And I can’t believe I fell for it!  I think it sees me!  I swear it’s waving its little twiggy leg at me!  Run, run, run!

Okay, so I apparently can only handle dead bugs.  Shssh, don’t tell anyone about my breakdown.  Please!  Please don’t tell anyone I scrambled out of there, tripped over the doorstep, dove under the covers and waited and waited and waited.  This only means one thing… war!

That it certainly is.  The pain might be intense.  It may strike from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.  At times, it fools you into thinking it’s going to take over your body and limit you from taking one more step.  But in the end, it is temporary.

And the pride and joy of finishing is everlasting.

Almost three days after the completion of my first half-marathon, in many ways, I’m still in pain, but it’s a reminder that the human body is remarkably strong and enduring.