Just Like The Number

Coming Alive at Blissdom 2010

2010-02-08T20:35:34-08:00

Just a few short days ago I was surrounded by nearly 500 women who get me. Women who know what social media is and aren't afraid to use it. Women who blog, and who see their blog as their baby.

I was at Blissdom, a blogging conference for women, and I was at home.

It was my second time at Blissdom, and my third blog conference in all. Now that I have a few of these things under my belt, I'm noticing a consistent progression of feelings that come along with subjecting oneself to a blog conference.

The first feeling is panic. It didn't matter that this was my third time around, or that I'd been looking forward to this since the last Blissdom was over. Once I walked in the doors of Opryland, the panic set in. It's equal parts "I so don't belong here" and "Everyone will finally discover me for the true social reject that I am." I fight every urge to run into my hotel room and spend the rest of the conference there in my pj's, raiding the mini-bar.

The second feeling is relief. I always manage to stumble upon that one person in the room who seems as lost as me. Then they turn out to be wonderful and charming and beyond kind and I wonder where they've been all my life. Last year it was Amy from Outdoor Dogs. This year it was Rebecca from Country Fried Mama. Suddenly I can relax and soak up everything the conference has to offer.

The third feeling is euphoria. Before I know it, I'm immersed in workshops and panels with people who know things and are willing to share. I don't have to google them, or look for a Missing Manual, or wonder aloud to myself. These people are here in real life and speaking a language I understand. And it feels good.

The fourth feeling is overwhelmed. The knowledge pours over me and the next thing I know I'm drowning. I'm drowning in confusion and self-doubt. Everyone seems so assured of themselves and their blog. They know their passions and purpose, and oh God I hate the word so much, but they know their niche. I'm floundering, not knowing which direction to go, what the purpose of my blog is, and why on earth anyone would ever want to read it.

It takes a few days for the last feeling to dissipate, but it always does. I come home and I take a break from blogs, and blogging, and slowly it comes back. My passion for this blog, for my words, for my pictures, for my readers. My purpose slowly becomes clear again and I formulate ways to make this space better - more me, which hopefully translates into a more authentic experience for you.

As I was sitting in one of the panels, this quote from Howard Thurman was shared:

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive. ”

That's the final feeling: alive. New friendships, new ideas, new sights for my lens to find, new words for my fingers to convey: all ready to come alive. To all my Blissdom friends, and to all my readers, thank you for giving me the space to come alive. I hope a little bit of what you get here makes you come alive too.

LeBron James and Company

2010-01-31T19:41:56-08:00

* I have to fess up and let you know that Mike took this picture. I guess he could've left me at home, but I'm so glad he didn't.

You might think I only have eyes for Peyton. I do love him, but that doesn't mean I don't have a roving eye for greatness. This is where I have to give props to my husband. The Cleveland Cavaliers were in town last Friday to face off against the Pacers, and Mike had two tickets. He could've taken any number of his buddies and had a memorable Guys Night, but he took me. I think it must be my smashing hot body and irresistible charm.

Or maybe it was because I'm the only one who knows how to work the fancy camera.

Either way, I earned myself a ticket to see greatness.

Before I get into the LeBron love fest, can I just talk about the mass of flesh that is Shaquille O'Neal? I really didn't know they made people that big. I mean, just look at him - it's not like 6'6" Brandon Rush is a small guy:

And his feet! My babies weren't this big at their one-month appointments.

LeBron is the real show, though: blocked shots out of no where, double around-the-back passes, just short of a triple double, and the sweet dunks. His athleticism is amazing, but the best part for me is his demeanor on the court.

He's a competitor for sure - no one wants to win more than him. Still, I love a guy that doesn't take himself too seriously. He's having a good time out there with his teammates.

Even when he's getting fouled.

Thanks for letting me come along, Mike, even if you were just using me for my camera. I think we both came out winners. I got to see LeBron and Co. You ended your Guys Night with a kiss - which could have been confusing. But since you picked me? Totally not.

King Arthur Flour Lemon Squares

2010-01-27T07:19:43-08:00

I had a few lemons hanging around my produce drawer for the last couple of weeks. For some reason, Eli was quite taken with them. Like a cat hearing a can of tuna being opened, every time I opened the fridge he came running. He'd make a beeline for the produce drawer and pull out the lemons. Only to him, they're not lemons, they're "lemonades." He would then commence lemonade playtime: rolling the lemons, "cooking" the lemons, trying to smash the lemons in the potato ricer. The lemons were hanging on for dear life, and it was high time I put them out of their misery.

I pulled out my brand-spankin' new cookbook The King Arthur Flour Cookie Companion. It's a hefty book: 500 pages of cookie recipes along with tips, hints and troubleshooting advice for nearly every cookie imaginable. I won the cookbook through a contest on one of my favorite food blogs, Serious Eats. One of their recurring features is a series called "Cook the Book," where they choose a popular cookbook and cook several recipes from the book. I love how it gives you a peek into a cookbook along with real experiences of using the cookbook. Raise your hand if you've ever purchased a cookbook and then realized the recipes were impossible to execute or terribly impractical. You too? Anyhow, whenever they feature a cookbook, they also giveaway a few copies of the book. Lucky me, I was the winner-winner-chicken-dinner.

There's an entire chapter dedicated to Bars & Squares. I don't know about you, but I'm a big fan of bars and squares. Sometimes I want to make something cookie-like, but I lack the motivation to go the extra mile and actually, like, roll out the dough or drop it onto a cookie sheet. Sometimes the option to throw the dough into a bar pan is the only thing that prevents me from just whipping up a batch of dough and eating it raw. So let's pause and give thanks for Bars & Squares.

By now I imagine you'd like me to just shut up already and tell you what I made with the pitiful lemons. Behold the Lemon Squares:

Please make these. They were wonderful, like biting into sunshine in the middle of winter, and came together in less than 45 minutes. And that's 45 minutes with a toddler helping me, which means you could probably whip them out all by yourself in no time flat. My helper is a disaster in the kitchen, but he sure is cute.

I hate to be a snob about these kind of things, but this is a recipe where you'll only want to use actual lemons. The lemons are the star here, so bottled lemon juice just won't do the trick. Don't worry about using the prettiest or freshest lemons - my old, abused lemons were more than fine. The recipe also calls for lemon zest, for which there is no substitute as far as I'm concerned. If you don't have one of these handy Microplane zesters, please go get one now. They're cheap and fabulous and everyone will think you're the next Iron Chef when you whip one out. I've had mine for five years now, and just the other day I came across Pioneer Woman's tip to run the Microplane upside down over whatever you're grating or zesting. That's life-changing advice right there.

Lemon Squares

Adapted from The King Arthur Flour Cookie Companion

Makes 16 squares

These can be served immediately after cooling. Any leftovers should be stored in the refrigerator. If you can summon enough willpower, these taste even better the next day. And probably even better the day after that, but I wouldn't know. They were long gone by then.

Crust

1 1/2 cups (6 1/4 ounces) unbleached all-purpose flour

1/4 cup (1 ounce) confectioners' sugar

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter

Topping

4 large eggs

1 1/4 cups (8 3/4 ounces) granulated sugar

1 1/4 cups (4 ounces) lemon juice

1/4 cup (1 ounce) unbleached, all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons grated lemon rind (zest)

Confectioners' sugar

Preheat the oven to 350ºF. Lightly grease a 9 x 9-inch, 11 x 7-inch, or similar-sized pan (I used an 8 x 8-inch pan and it worked just fine)

To assemble the crust: In a medium-sized bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, and salt. Using a pastry blender, your fingers (or a toddler's fingers), or a mixer, cut in the butter, mixing to form coarse crumbs. Press the crumbs into the prepared pan. Bake the crust for 20 minutes, or until it's light brown.

To make the topping: In a medium-sized bowl, beat together the eggs, granulated sugar, and lemon juice until smooth. Stir in the flour, salt, and lemon zest.

Pour the topping over the hot crust, return the pan to the oven, and continue baking for about 25 minutes, or until the top of the squares appears set. Remove from oven and cool in the pan. Sprinkle with confectioners' sugar just before cutting and serving.

That's Settled: I'm Over It!

2010-01-24T20:32:47-08:00

So here we are, AFC Champions once again. The last time this happened, Mike and I were there. It was the most amazing sporting experience of my life. That probably doesn't seem like a grand statement, but considering I've seen Mark McGuire in his record-setting season, an Olympic gold-medal soccer match, and been on the court for a Sampras-Becker tennis match? Let's just say I've had some choices.

I just don't think anything compares to seeing your team, the one you've followed in good times and in excruciatingly humiliating times, pull off a great win.

This year we weren't able to be there in person, but we did manage to get together with the same group we watched the last AFC Championship game with. Not that we're a superstitious lot or anything, but who wants to live with themselves for an entire football season with the thought that you might have played some role in your team's defeat? Not I, said the Colts fan.

We did our part, Peyton and Co. did theirs and here we are, Super Bowl-bound again.

I'm going to enjoy each and every minute of these next two weeks. If it's anything like last time, this city buzzes with pride and anticipation. If something stays still long enough, it'll get plastered with a horseshoe. It's been an amazing season, even with my disappointment in the end. Who knows how many great seasons we have left? If you're not the fanatic that I am, bear with me just a little while longer. It's not time to retire my #18 jersey quite yet. Hopefully, when it's all said and done, I can add a 2009 Super Bowl t-shirt to my collection. And then I promise I'll talk about something else for a change, like what I ate for dinner, or my underwear.

Until then: Go Colts! Believe in Blue!

I Prefer Chimpanzees Over Horny Toads

2010-01-20T19:36:11-08:00

Normally I'm a big fan of seeing my kids relate something we've read in a book to everyday life.

I wasn't prepared for Eli to pull this gem out of the book What Do You Do With a Tail Like This? The book goes through the varied noses, ears, tails, eyes, mouths and feet of different animals, with brief explanations of how each animal uses that body part.

For example, the book asks: "What do you do with a tail like this?" A lovely picture of a giraffe follows, explaining that if you're a giraffe you use your tail to "brush off pesky flies."

So there we are the other day, having a nice snack of pretzels, when Eli remembers his personal favorite.

"What do you do with feet like these? If you're a chimpanzee, you feed yourself with your feet."

I guess it could have been worse. He could have taken a shining to the horny toad. You know, the one that squirts blood out of its eyes. For reals.

I'll take a pretzel between the toes over that any day.

Getting Over It, One Game At A Time

2010-01-14T12:40:02-08:00

I haven't really talked about my beloved Colts as much this year on the blog as I have in years past. There was training camp, the pre-season game, and my personal favorite: Tom Brady-In-A-Casket. But other than that I've been pretty quiet. I realize that not all of my readers are quite as enamored with the Colts as I am, so I've tried my best not to overwhelm you with my obsession.

Up until December 27th, this had been the most magical season for me yet. As my boys in blue marched through the regular season racking up wins, each game brought with it more excitement, screaming, and nail-biting on my part. I think I may have worn a new traffic pattern in our family room rug from my incessant pacing in many a fourth quarter.

The rumors swirled around Indy that the Colts would do nothing differently on the December 27th game versus the Jets than they did any other season when the playoff spot and home field advantage had been secured. They would rest their starters. Still, the city was buzzing that they would continue on - for the franchise, for the players, for the fans and the city that love their Colts. Two more games, potentially easy wins, and we'd seal our place in history with the Dolphins and Patriots as the only teams to go undefeated in the regular season.

Even if you didn't see the game, you know what happened. The starters were benched, and the Jets left with a win. I've felt a lot of things when it comes to my Colts. I've been a fan long enough to have suffered some pretty humiliating losses, to have been disappointed, frustrated, and sad. That game, and the one against Buffalo that followed, left me with an unfamiliar feeling: anger. Let me clarify: I wasn't angry with the players. They did what they were told to do, and they did it (thankfully without any Brett Favre-like drama). No, I was angry at the ownership and management, for not giving a flip about anything but their asses. For calling an undefeated season "inconsequential."

We had the chance to do something unforgettable, something that would place us in a whole new category. Was it risky? Absolutely. Could we have ruined a chance at another Super Bowl with a season-ending injury to an essential player? Of course. But teams with balls go for it. We just came across looking like the wusses that rest of the country believes us to be. I'm sick and tired of being a "finesse" team. I want to be the team that everyone is scared of, the team that will do anything to win. Had we attained the perfect season and not made it to Super Bowl, I'm certain this city and its fans would have been proud of our Colts. Disappointed, for sure, but the pride would have been a salve for that wound. I can't say the same if we don't bring home the trophy now. It's gonna get ugly.

So in the last two weeks, when I've normally been basking in the glow of a glorious season, talking smack right and left, I've been quiet. Stewing, if you will. Not once have I worn my new horseshoe bling, my Peyton Manning earrings, or my jersey. Like a jilted lover, I've been pouting, waiting for my beloved team to take me back, to offer a heartfelt apology.

Needless to say, neither Coach Caldwell nor Mr. Polian have me on speed dial. Lord knows I wish Peyton did. I took to heart his words in a recent press conference, though, pleading with the fans to put this all past us, to focus on the playoffs and to support the team.

It starts all over this Saturday. I'm putting the anger and the bitterness away, and hoping for the sweet taste of victory instead. One game at a time, boys. Make us proud again.

Snoozomaniac

2010-01-12T11:39:13-08:00

I had an epiphany the other day. I know, scary.

Sleeping in is my equivalent of sex.

This will probably only make sense if you're married. More specifically, if you have few anniversaries under your belt and at least one small child underfoot. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that it really only makes sense if you can check off all the above boxes AND you're of the female persuasion.

Allow me to explain . . .

Mike and I have had this deal for awhile, where I sleep in one day a week, usually Saturdays. It's a holdover from the days when he was working a more typical job, the kind where he left the house at 6:30 a.m. We both got up earlier than we liked Monday through Friday, I got the extra zzzz's on Saturday, and he got Sunday.

Since he's been working from home, I've felt the pangs of jealousy over sleep creep in slowly. As he technically doesn't have anywhere to be in the mornings, he typically doesn't get out of bed until around 9 a.m. In his defense, he's up pretty late in the evenings, since that's when the best games are going. Human nature doesn't really give a crap about justification, though, so I naturally get a bit jealous as I'm dragging my tail out of bed at 6:15 every morning while he's snoozing away.

I love and cling to my one day of bedded bliss fiercely, but in the last few weeks I've found myself getting pissed that I'm not getting more days to sleep in. The kids have been out of school, and Mike's been wrapping things up earlier in the evening. The other night I found myself stewing about it, wondering why he didn't just offer to give me an extra day here or there, and that's when it hit me that sleeping in for me is the equivalent of sex for him.

You try it: swap "sleep/ing in" for "have/ing sex" in each of these statements and tell me if you don't see it:

I always want to sleep in.

I would sleep in every day if I could.

I wish my husband/wife would initiate my sleeping in just a little more often.

I feel realllllly good after I sleep in.

I fantasize about sleeping in.

It seems like I used to sleep in a lot more when we first got married/before we had kids.

I shared this earth-shattering epiphany with Mike, thinking he'd high-five me and bask in the glow of my cleverness. Yeah, he wasn't amused. He heard "I would rather sleep my life away than have sex with you." Which is totally not the case. I still want to rock his world . . . I just want to sleep a little longer after we're done.

What I meant to say is, that for the first time I think I really get what it's like for him when he craves something a bit more than I do. You obsess about it. You whine about it. You drop hints like there's no tomorrow. And when the other person just isn't helping you out in that area as much as you'd like? Well, you get a little pissy about it.

In the immortal words of G.I. Joe, "Now you know, and knowing is half the battle."

I'm a scientist at heart, so I propose a little experiment. He lets me sleep in a little more often, and I'll, well, you know. This is family-friendly blog, after all. Elena does have a science fair project due next month. We could dedicate the rest of the month to truly living the scientific method! My hypothesis is Mr. and Mrs. Six both have a little extra hitch in their giddy-up come February 1.

If I have any more epiphanies, you'll hear it here first. I know, scary.

Why I Play Poker

2010-01-12T11:37:10-08:00

This isn't purely my blog, it's a family affair. I've been hogging the limelight for a bit, so it's only fair to give Mike a turn. One of the biggest questions we're asked is why on earth he would choose to be a professional poker player with a family to support. Here's the answer:

Why I play poker…

First and foremost, if you would choose to do your “job” regardless of money, you will have happiness and success. Poker is something that I am passionate about, and that enables me to be successful. To be successful at anything you must be fully committed to it. I love playing the game. I love learning about the game. I love teaching the game.

How often do people dread waking up for work? I did. For the last 6 years before poker, it was typically in the 5 o’clock hour. Now, I choose my hours. I don’t have to lie about feeling sick when I want to go to my daughters Thanksgiving Feast. I don't have a routine. This flexibility has allowed me to be the father and husband that I want to be. I have been blessed to spend countless hours with my family this last year.

Next is the constant exercising of my brain. It is a challenge, a challenge that keeps me going. I’d venture to guess that 25% of my time goes into reviewing my play and how to make it better. A successful poker player has to always be a good decision maker. The biggest downfall most excellent players make have to do with emotions, not how well they play. There is a quite a bit more pressure playing as a full time job, and a couple of keyboards and my desk have felt the same frustrations that I feel occasionally. I am aware of this and constantly look for ways to avoid these pitfalls.

Finally, I’m proud of what I do. It is hard work and not as glamorous as some people think, but I am the envy of many that aren’t happy with what they do. Poker has created friendships for me and the poker network has no boundaries. It is something that so many people love to do and I hope that my dream can last a little longer.

Me, too, Mr. Poker Pro! If you're a blogger yourself, you might be interested in this tournament being hosted by PokerStars. Click on the link for more information.

I have registered to play in the PokerStars World Blogger Championship of Online Poker! The WBCOOP is a free online Poker tournament open to all Bloggers, so register on WBCOOP to play.

Brazo de Gitano

2010-01-07T08:30:38-08:00

I posted this picture of the birthday cake my mother made for me the other day on 3(six)5, and as a result, several people asked me for the recipe. My mother is from southern Spain, and it's always a treat when she whips out her Spanish recipes. This cake is called Brazo de Gitano, which translates into "arm of a gypsy." Let's just call it by its prettier name from here on out, shall we? Otherwise it makes me think of something your mob boss uncle would bring for your birthday. It's fairly easy to make, even easier if you go my mother's route and use a box of lemon pudding (the kind you cook, not instant) in place of making the filling from scratch. I've included the instructions for making the filling as well, in case you like to make things more difficult for yourself as I do. Either way, you'll be happy with the end result!
If you're at all interested in cooking more Spanish food, I highly recommend the cookbook The Foods and Wines of Spain by Penelope Casas. It's filled with very traditional recipes and gives you lots of background on the foods and wines of the vastly different regions of Spain.
Brazo de Gitano (Custard-Filled Cake Roll)
CAKE:
6 eggs, separated
6 tablespoons sugar
pinch of cream of tartar
1/2 teaspoon lemon zest
6 tablespoons sifted flour
Powdered sugar and cinnamon, or cocoa, for dusting (my mother dusted hers with cocoa)
FILLING: (If you opt to use a boxed pudding mix instead, you'll still want to fold in the whipped cream before filling the cake. It just helps to lighten the filling a bit.)
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
2 1/2 cups milk
3 egg yolks, lightly beaten
2 tablespoons lemon zest
Pinch of salt
1/2 cup lemon juice
2 tablespoons butter, softened
1 cup of whipped cream
Adjust oven rack to upper-middle position and preheat oven to 375 F. Line a 10 x 15 rimmed cookie sheet (also known as a jelly roll pan) with parchment paper, then grease parchment with cooking spray.
To make the cake, beat egg whites with an electric or stand mixer until foamy. Add the cream of tartar and sugar and beat until whites form soft peaks. In a separate small bowl, lightly beat egg yolks with a fork. Fold egg yolks and lemon zest into egg white mixture. Lightly fold in flour. Pour batter into prepared pan, distributing evenly. Bake for 10-15 minutes, or until cake is done, but only lightly golden on the bottom. If you over-bake the cake, it will be difficult to roll.
While the cake is baking, slightly dampen a kitchen towel. When cake is done, invert the cake onto the cloth while still warm. Peel off the parchment paper and roll the cake in the cloth. Cool and leave wrapped until ready to fill.
While the cake is cooling, make the filling. Place sugar and cornstarch in a small, heavy-bottomed sauce pan. Whisk to combine. Gradually add milk, whisking until smooth. Add egg yolks, lemon zest and salt. Cook, stirring, over medium-high heat, until thickened and pudding coats the back of a spoon. Remove pan from heat and stir in lemon juice and butter. Pour through a fine mesh strainer into a large bowl. Allow to cool to room temperature. Just before spreading filling onto the cake, fold in the whipped cream.
When the filling is ready, unroll the cake, leaving it on the cloth. Spread with filling. Re-roll, using the cloth to aid in rolling. Transfer to a serving dish. Dust with powdered sugar and cinnamon, or cocoa. Serves 8.
Store any leftovers in the refrigerator.

Surprised

2010-01-05T12:19:35-08:00

This is what 35 looks like.
Surprised.
Surprised that your husband would dare take a picture of you eating cake. Even more surprised that you kind of like the way the picture turned out.
Surprised that the sleeping in on a frigid morning while your husband takes the kids to school might possibly be the best gift ever.
Surprised that your husband got you the Canon 50mm f/1.8 lens you've been ogling for the last 6 months. Well, maybe not really surprised, but certainly touched and very happy about it.
Surprised that you are actually 35. You swear it was just yesterday that you were 17 and the biggest concern you had was whether or not Brenda and Dylan would stay together and how your bangs looked.
Surprised that 35 bothers you just a bit.
Surprised by so many sweet gestures: unexpected Starbucks gift cards, phone calls from old friends, birthday tweets and facebook felicitations.
Surprised that I fashioned an entire post out of one goofy picture and the word surprised. Surprised that you stuck around to the end.
Oh so happy that you did!