Have I mentioned how happy I am to be back in Chicago?

I tend to get wishy-washy when it comes to major decisions and when I got closer to leaving LA, I was a little unsure if I made the right one. I blame the anxiety of a cross-country move. Even with the help of an amazing moving company the crazy was out in full force.

Moving 23 times has made it hard to ever feel at home. A few years ago, a friend of mine visited Santa Monica and immediately fell in love with the place. She just felt like she was meant to be there. I’ve never had that in any of the places I’ve lived — until early 2011 when I found myself randomly walking around downtown Chicago in the middle of winter.

Lately a lot of people have been asking how it feels to be back in Chicago. It feels wonderful. So much has happened since I’ve been back and life is about to change in a major way, but I’m so happy to be home. Do I regret leaving LA? Not the slightest. Do I miss it? You bet!

Of course, I don’t miss the distance or the traffic, but I miss the crap out of my friends and the ocean. Skype dates can’t replace Sunday Funday brunch with my lady friends. And postcards? They’ve got nothing on the Pacific.

Tomorrow I’m hopping on a plane and heading back to LA for some real life face time with my friends (and the ocean). I’m so excited to catch up, relax, and laugh with good friends. I just need to figure out what I did with my flip flops and tourist hat…

Remember that one time when I was all “Ugh, health insurance is the devil” and you were like “We know! Punch them in their stupid faces!”?

Okay, that last part might have been me too, but whatever, I did punch them in their stupid faces. With my words.

The appeal process didn’t take long at all. In fact, I spent more time gathering all of the necessary documents from doctors than waiting for their answer. This leads me to believe that health insurance companies get a little trigger happy with applications. They cited eleventy reasons why they didn’t want to offer me coverage, and within three days — two of which fell on a weekend — they were just like “Of course! Here’s some dental for all your troubles.”

I’m pretty sure BCBSIL was impressed by my use of “implore” in my appeal letter. That, or my desperation.

If anyone needs me to write appeal letters, doctor’s notes, or excuses as to why you missed work today, let me know. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to wheeze my way to Target to pick up one of them fancy-pants asthma prescriptions.

There’s an open text document on my computer full of links and quotes from bloggers talking about how the Blogosphere has changed. I’ve been holding on to these URLs with the intentions of commenting, and following up those comments with my post.

• My Evolving Blog Identity
• She’s Complaining Again
• I remember when blogging was cool
• Get Your Blog Love Back

Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to come up with the right words. Maybe there aren’t any right words, but either way, I’m not sure how to tackle this beast just yet. I will say that I agree whole-heartedly with these bloggers and truly miss the early blogging days before SEO, PR, and other acronyms flooded my judgment.

I admit that I’ve had some fun in the spotlight. I accepted money for posts, made room for ads in my sidebar, and even began tailoring my words for my readers. But somewhere in there I lost myself, which is why I closed Free and Flawed. And when I lost 300+ subscribers after closing it and moving to a new home, I admit that it still stings sometimes.

And while I’m much happier here, my personal and professional lives have merged and this no longer feels like just my personal blog, even if it is. My identities have intertwined, and while I don’t mind people knowing about all of my idiosyncrasies, there is a line — which makes it difficult at times to be as forthcoming as I’d like on my blog.

Anyway, long story short, when Peter approached me about a new blogging project, I needed no convincing. I’m very excited to introduce you to Pooping Rainbows — a safe haven (if you will) for bloggers who want to write for the sake of writing.

Peter has put together an incredible line-up of bloggers, some of which you probably recognize and others that you’ll meet for the very first time. There will be a new post from a different blogger each day of the month — I’m publishing on the 15th, in case you’re curious

Nothing is changing here; there will still be plenty of crazy, tales of heroism and ducks, and personal anecdotes. And if you haven’t already, I highly recommend reading the blog posts mentioned earlier in this post. They’ll definitely get your wheels turning.

You might not think that these three things are related, but since when did this world start making sense?

I live across the street from a cemetery, and I often walk along it on my way to Target. Along my journey I spotted $10 just hanging out on the other side of the fence. I tried squeezing my arm through the bars, but they were too narrow and my strongs couldn’t fit. So I grabbed a stick and fished the money out. Convinced that I put in just the right amount of effort, I continued on to Target.

And then I realized that this $10 is probably haunted and I must spend it immediately to rid myself of any ghosts attached to it. A part of me believes that if I were to put it into my piggy bank that it would come alive in the middle of the night and oink at me. I can’t even tell you how serious I am right now.

Long story short, I wasn’t able to use the $10 as I paid with my debit card so I’m stuck with Satan’s money.

On my way home from Target, I noticed that traffic stopped to let a mama duck and her two ducklings cross the street. I stop to watch them and realize that they’re going to try to get in to the cemetery. If I can’t get my arm through those gates, there’s no way mama is getting in there. After some struggling, she finds a wider opening and hops in, leaving her two ducklings on the street, quacking after her.

Cue heartbreak.

Mama’s quacking on one side, the ducklings are baby quacking on the other. And here I am, thinking about the bedtime story my grandma used to tell me about the duckling that got separated from his mom and ended up on a farm cause the farmer wanted to fatten him up and eat him. (Moral of the story: always listen to your mother.)

There’s about a foot of concrete separating the gate from the sidewalk, so these ducklings have a challenge ahead of them. After much struggling, one of the ducklings throws itself through the gates. I try to scoot the other one near a lower part of the faux-curb, but naturally it’s terrified and runs in the other direction INTO THE FREAKING STREET. Baby duck! STOP THAT.

So I’m running this way and that way trying to get the thing through the gate, all the while terrified that mama duck is going to fly through the gate and bite my face off. I’m a baby quack away from crying, so I take out the books I bought at Target (Hunger Games, what?!) and made tiny stairs for the duckling. Again, I’m not even kidding. The duckling wasn’t having that though.

After what felt like four hours (but was really four minutes) of torture, the quacking stopped and the duckling made it over to the other side. HUGE FREAKING SIGH OF RELIEF. Now some of you are probably like “survival of the fittest” and stuff, but I’m pretty sure that Darwin never saw a baby duck or else he would have been like “HELP THE MOTHER-EFFING LOAD OF ‘EM! NO MAN LEFT BEHIND!”

I compose myself after realizing that all of Western Avenue was privy to my heroic adventure, which probably made me look insane. I pack up my Target bags and continue my walk home when all of a sudden I’m attacked by a butterfly. I’m pretty sure that was Darwin scolding me.

Moral of the story: Don’t steal money from cemeteries.

So, how’s your week going?

{via}

One of the most frustrating things about health insurance is having it, but not being able to get help with the things you need.

My current policy doesn’t cover brand name prescriptions. Generally this isn’t a problem, but for whatever reason asthma medications have patents up the wazoo, ensuring that no generics become available.

I’ve had this plan for nine months, which means I haven’t had my asthma medication for nine months. It’s epically frustrating, especially now that I’ve decided to become more active and participate in Couch to 5K.

I’ve had asthma for the better part of 10 years. I don’t think I’ve ever had a full-blown attack, but I experience a lot of chest heaviness and what feels like my airway constricting. Often times I’ll force yawns just to get a satisfying breath. It’s stupid and people just bug me about being tired. I’m just trying to breathe y’all! (Where did that come from?)

I’m still learning about my triggers. At first it seemed like cold weather was the culprit, but then I noticed it became more active with humidity. Okay, so it’s seasonal, that’s manageable. And it was, until it wasn’t. I now believe that it’s triggered by allergies + humidity, which sucks because apparently I’m allergic to everything ever. If it’s green or furry, I’m probably allergic to it.

Because I moved, Blue Shield of California no longer wants to cover someone living in Illinois. That’s understandable. At least, it was five months ago when they told me. As usual I procrastinated and just this month I began looking for a new plan.

I found a great one that actually covers brand name prescriptions. I was so excited, but skeptical since it was so awesome. Sure enough, they denied me for the most ridiculous reasons. If your applications only question the last 5 years, then you shouldn’t deny me based on something that happened 7 years ago.

I’m going through the appeal process now, so my fingers are crossed. I just want to take some medications without spending hundreds of dollars a month. Arguably I should just bite the bullet and spend the money since these are my lungs I’m talking about. But I can’t help but be bitter about this whole ordeal.

Health insurance is the devil.

It’s been a while since I walked away from a weekend feeling awesome. Admittedly I’ve had a couple brutal months in terms of life drama, but everything seems to be balancing out. Life is mellow, folks!

I had a busy, but great weekend. The manfriend was in town, and while I’ve seen him every month, he hasn’t been in Chicago since January, so it was wonderful to hang on “my turf.”

On Friday, we visited a small used bookstore in Lincoln Square, and I’m so glad we did because if I ever lose this apartment I’m moving in there. The walls are literally lined with books from floor to ceiling. It’s a maze of books, which means lots of quiet, hidden nooks for reading. How the owner manages to find anything in there is beyond me, but I applaud him/her because I’ve heard such great customer service stories. Later that evening we joined the manfriend’s friends for dinner at The Red Lion, followed by some drinks with Pham at Huettenbar — love that place.

Saturday we went to the Cubs game, which was probably the most exciting Cubs game I’ve ever been to (because they scored like six times). However, it was so effing cold. We were in the upper deck, surrounded by wind and shade. Not even beer and a hot dog could help. We’re never prepared for outdoor sports — a few years ago we went to a Bears game when it was 10 below. I think we had maybe 2 or 3 layers on… dumbest idea ever. After the game we stopped to grab a drink with Jess at Wilde. I forgot how much I love that place. Even though we didn’t eat (they have amazing mac & cheese), I was finally able to get an Allagash White, something the manfriend and I have been trying to find for a while.

Later that night we met up with two more of his friends for a low key evening of eats and laughs. Thanks to a recommendation from Jess, we stopped at Jimmy’s Pizza near the apartment. It’s super laid back, but delicious. I’m so glad it’s within walking distance because I see a lot of garlic knots in my future.

Although airport days are usually sad, we kicked Sunday off in high spirits. We joined my folks and grandparents for breakfast at Cream of the Crepe in Park Ridge. Super cute and super crowded, but really good. I think I was the only one who went with a sweet crepe, but I stand by my choice. It was amazing, and the fresh squeezed orange juice was a nice touch as well. It’s a decent drive, but so worth it.

After some errands, we mustered up some post-breakfast energy and dove into Wii Sports Resort. I haven’t played that in a long time, and I forgot how ridiculous I get when I’m using a sword — I got all up on my TV trying to swing someone off a platform. Note to self: move your arm, not your entire body. I don’t know why the manfriend decided to make his Mii look like a major creeper, but I’m sure he has his reasons.

I feel the need to clarify that he does not, nor has he ever, rocked a handlebar mustache (that I know of, at least). And despite his desire to, I’d never let him buy red sunglasses.

Although this weekend left me pretty tired, I still managed to wake up early today and get a 2 mile walk in before breakfast. Working from home makes me lazy and unless I’m going to a coffee shop, I’m not very active. My pal Tessa is participating in Couch to 5K and so I thought I’d join her. I think I would really enjoy running, I just need to convince my body to like it first!

Hope you all had a great weekend!

Ugh. Feelings.

I’m a detail person. I can’t just tell you that we’re going out to dinner on Friday night. Instead I’ll tell you that so-and-so called and thought we should get together because of reason XYZ, and that we decided to go on this date, because Saturday won’t work due to excuse ABC, at this location, because the other place does that thing that I don’t like, which reminded me about this one time, when I was a kid…

I’m like the Rube Goldberg of conversations.

I wish I was wired differently. Sometimes I think about the people (specifically the guys) in my life and imagine their inner-dialogues during our conversations. I assume they block out most of the details and their ears (brains?) are trained to pick up the key words and phrases of utter importance.

They’re like an SEO algorithm of conversations.

But the details exist. They’re in my brain and I can’t un-see them. I have an unexplainable need to say more words than required. It’s like if I don’t tell you how the decision was reached then it doesn’t feel right. Or if I randomly start a new topic I feel compelled to explain how the transition happened, which usually results in “kids > sticky hands > time out > prom dress > new umbrella.”

That doesn’t mean anything to anyone.

I have the uncanny ability to take something that happened and relate it to something entirely different that happened. I then blame something A for the results of something B, because it totally feels relevant to do so. (I can’t even explain the transition on this one.)

Currently I’m angry about a specific situation. While it holds no real relevance to my day-to-day life, I still blame it for everything that goes wrong, because it feels right to do so.

Feelings are idiots. There’s no rhyme or reason, and the more I think about it the more worried I am that I might actually be crazy.

Oh yeah, this all came about because I was denied health insurance.

One thing I’ve never done is put any effort into decorating my apartment. Scratch that. There was that one time when I cut a bunch of butterflies out of magazine pages and taped them up around my living room. That was mostly out of boredom thought, not design.

Now that I plan on staying put for a while (FINALLY), I want to make my apartment feel homey. Bare walls scream unsettled and temporary, and I hate feeling that way. I’ve been here for four months; it’s time to start decorating.

Well guess what? Art is expensive. While Pinterest has done nothing to help my monthly Etsy budget, it did give me some money-saving DIY ideas.

I want to put some meaningful art up, but my walls are big and they’re plain so I need some filler. Thankfully, Aunt Peaches had the brilliant idea of using wrapping paper. So I bought some cheapo frames from Target (seriously, they were like $7.99) and found a few patterns that I wouldn’t mind staring at for a while.

I though that cutting out the paper to match the size of the frame would be a hassle, but I just used the standard fake photo that comes with the frame as a template. It probably took all of 20 minutes to prep four frames. There’s really no need to get crazy with rulers and x-acto knives; some scissors will do just fine.

The nice thing about using wrapping paper (besides its inexpensive cost) is that it’s easy to change. When I’m tired of looking at stripes and dots I can buy something else and swap it out.

I’ve also been working on some painting projects, but I’ll save those for another day.

It’s officially official! (Because nothing is official until the government signs off on it.)

This morning I had a date with the DMV. My last experience ended in tears, so to say I was nervous is a bit of an understatement. When I’m nervous, I over-prepare. I gathered up four forms of identification, three utility bills to prove my residency, all things smog-test related, and basically everything in my glovebox, including the three packets of ketchup my mom hid during our road trip.

When I arrived, the lines were short so I immediately felt optimistic. Well, that was short-lived as I quickly learned that I would only be able to get my Illinois driver’s license at this location. My Illinois plates would have to be processed at another location, which wasn’t a terribly big deal since it was sort of on my way home. Sort of.

It was smooth sailing after that. Papers were processed quickly, I aced (if you count getting two wrong as aced) my written test, and smiled pretty for my picture. I was in and out in under an hour. No one had trouble reading my birth certificate, unlike the jerks at the Los Angeles DMV.

Since I made such great time, I headed over to the other DMV to take care of the plate situation. I’m pretty sure I walked into a castle — there may or may not have been a moat called “Elston Avenue.” Turns out no one cares when I actually arrived in Illinois; no late fees were charged (again, unlike Los Angeles). No one inspected my car. My California plates remain in my possession. It was another very pleasant DMV experience.

After regaling some friends with the tale of two DMVs, they’re convinced that my good luck was a fluke and that Illinois DMVs are among the worst in the world. That’s fine and dandy because I don’t plan on going back for a very long time. Despite my good fortune, I’m beyond excited for two reasons:

• For the first time EVER, the address on my license actually MATCHES MY PHYSICAL ADDRESS!!! You don’t even know how happy this makes me (unless you’ve moved 23 times and updated your license all of twice).
• My license plates don’t say “MAM” anymore!

P.S. Suck it, California.

P.P.S. Ignore the AT&T advertisement in the Cubs photo above. I have poor timing.

So often I find recipes for sweet treats while reading blogs, and instead of making them, I pin them for a rainy day that never comes. Motivated by the lack of sweets in my kitchen I decided to bake this weekend. In the past I’ve made cakes and cookies, but never in a million years did I think I’d be able to make cheesecake. But holy crap you guys, cheesecake is easy.

I decided I would start small and made Swirled Cheesecake Cups — many thanks to Lacey for sharing the recipe!

While shopping, I had forgotten to pick up two types of chocolate chips, so they’re less swirl and more awesome.

Ingredients:

• 36 2-inch foil baking cups 36 (this recipe definitely didn’t make 36 cups; I had about 20)
• 36 vanilla wafers
• 1 2/3 cups (10-oz. pkg.) NESTLÉ® TOLL HOUSE® SWIRLED™ Semi-Sweet & Premier White Morsels, divided (I ended up just buying the Premier White Morsels)
• 2 pkgs. (8 oz. each) cream cheese, at room temperature
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
• 2 large eggs
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350° F. Place 36 2-inch foil bake cups on baking sheet(s) with sides. Place one vanilla wafer, flat-side down, on bottom of each cup — I deviated a bit from the recipe and actually smashed up my vanilla wafers into crumbs. I also crushed up a few graham crackers and mixed that in with the wafers. Then place 5 to 6 morsels on top of each wafer, or the crumbs. In order to conserve the cheesecake mixture, I filled up almost half of the cup with crumbs.

2. Beat cream cheese, sugar and flour in large mixer bowl until creamy. Add eggs and vanilla extract; beat well. I added about 1 1/2 to 2 tablespoons of cream cheese mixture into each bake cup.

3. Bake for 15 to 17 minutes or until just set and not browned. Remove from oven to wire rack. While still warm, top cheesecakes with remaining morsels. Morsels will soften but will retain shape. Cool completely. Cover and refrigerate.

Prep time took me about 45 minutes, but that’s because I was determined to crush those cookies. If you use a whole cookie you’ll probably knock off 15-20 minutes. I brought these over to my aunt’s house yesterday for Easter brunch and they were a hit. Definitely looking forward to trying this with actual swirled chocolate chips. Who knows, I might even give raspberry filling a whirl!