tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53488853814300895832024-02-20T20:14:13.186-05:00Silly Little CaveGirlSilly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.comBlogger111125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-78792824588550461822015-04-17T21:50:00.000-04:002015-04-17T21:50:28.063-04:00On Vengeance I've been thinking a lot about vengeance. Not carrying any out, actually. But more why I don't.<br />
<br />
I could tell in the days after <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2015/03/the-jump-that-saved-me.html">his revelations</a> - even through our limited electronic interaction - that something had caught up with the married man. He was scared. Maybe that is too strong of a word. It wasn't really fear. Not yet. But he was definitely concerned to find out if I was headed down the road to vengeance. Because he could see where it ends: noplacegood.<br />
<br />
But for some reason, I have no interest in walking that path...<br />
<br />
Would I be justified if I decided to head down the road to retribution? Sure. Of course. It's practically expected. They make movies about this shit. Romantic comedies with slapstick hijinks and Nair in people's shampoo. And darker more obsessive films with slit tires and murdered pets. The scorned lover is a cultural phenomenon.<br />
<br />
I guess I'm just not that cool... I don't have the time or energy - or frankly the creativity - for that kind of negativity.<br />
<br />
My ex tortured me until I took credit for the demise of our marriage... Because I was selfish. And a terrible wife. And selfish. And emasculating. And did I mention selfish? And then I put it together that he had a little girlfriend and was just too much of a coward to admit it and leave peacefully.<br />
<br />
Even then, the last thing on my mind was vengeance.<br />
<br />
I packed up all of his things. I took special care of his guitars and records. I put all of his important documents in a waterproof case. And I had my parents hold on to the few things he had in storage in their garage, instead of smashing it all like my dad wanted to do.<br />
<br />
Because who does that serve?<br />
<br />
I did have one small fire over Christmas. My sister had made my ex a stocking just like the ones my grandmother made for us when we were born. A tangible symbol of his place in our family. We found it when we took down the tree at our mom's house. And we burned it in the fire pit after toasting marshmallows and drinking tequila. He wasn't a member of our family any more...<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVt4cC2JiRBWOGuHKSixB_2zw4uHy76h0m9oEzFZ4WUZts8suZp9473cVN1bXHF1oSqvrJ1o-Zc8a7tBR2vtPe1oKo3AAp_Vo26PQavIV2w9kHTMZCFwn9MJxK2NmOuBeGYdGxDiAt3Ag/s1600/Christmas+Fire.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVt4cC2JiRBWOGuHKSixB_2zw4uHy76h0m9oEzFZ4WUZts8suZp9473cVN1bXHF1oSqvrJ1o-Zc8a7tBR2vtPe1oKo3AAp_Vo26PQavIV2w9kHTMZCFwn9MJxK2NmOuBeGYdGxDiAt3Ag/s1600/Christmas+Fire.png" height="318" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can almost smell the Christmas Cheer.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But that was just cathartic.<br />
<br />
I guess that is the point: I always am more worried about moving <b>myself</b> forward. Learning my lessons. Sometimes helping others learn theirs, sure. But never stooping low. I get mad. I get hurt, deeply. I get disappointed. And I feel every inch of it. But I process quickly and move on. Because you cannot find a solution when your rage blinds. And finding a solution is really what I am all about.<br />
<br />
Does that mean I turn the other cheek? Sometimes.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I put myself right back in the way of that speeding train. Because I often don't realize I am walking the same tracks. <i>This riverbed looks nothing like that rail bridge!</i> Bam! And sometimes - I'll admit - it's because I think that THISTIME! I'll get to be the one that sends everything off the rails.<br />
<br />
It rarely works out like that...<br />
<br />
Even then, I take my licks. I can't blame the train. I was standing on the tracks! Instead I give thanks to be alive. Figure out why it hurts the same. Again. And look for a better place to stand.<br />
<br />
But <i>why? </i>Why do I focus inward when my outer world comes crashing down?<br />
<br />
I saw a meme that said <b>give blessings everywhere</b> and thought, yup, that's me! My influencing style is inspiration (no joke, I took a test). My motto. My ethos. My cause is to make every moment my best moment. My goal is to do only the things that <i>only I</i> can do - to improve this world.<br />
<br />
But that still isn't quite <i>why</i>.<br />
<br />
Is it a backlash against the cynicism that surrounds me? Is it all wrapped up in my striving to be necessary and important to the people in my life? Because who <i>needs</i> a negative vengeful dick hanging around? Is it because I feel my empathy so deeply and I don't want to feel the reflected pain that my vindictiveness would cause?<br />
<br />
Maybe. Yes. Nobody. Yes!!<br />
<br />
The married guy said, when it was done, that he hoped I would skip past rage and dive straight into reluctant acceptance. But I truly wonder if I will even get to there? To the reluctance, I mean. <i>Enthusiastic</i> acceptance is so much more my style! It makes it easier to give my blessings everywhere. And frankly, it makes it easier to move on without regret.<br />
<br />
<br />Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-80047886211955236922015-03-29T19:10:00.000-04:002015-03-29T19:10:12.064-04:00The Jump That Saved MeHe told me that he loved me. And then two hours later he told me that he's married.<br />
<br />
That sent me into a whole new world of emotions I cannot yet describe. Like I was at once falling down a dark hole and completely set on fire. My head ached. My stomach turned. But my heart already knew...<br />
<br />
We had a deal. We went on our first date knowing that he would leave town within a few weeks, that I would just be someone to see the city with so he could avoid spending all his time in a hotel room. But I know - after months of Tinder dates - that I can never hold up my end of that deal. I dove in anyway. <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2015/03/the-mixtape.html">It's what I do.</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2RchYD8RYMgP3zwOmc2iKs6K1eJISce-t7C_EX2MQGnw4FxNjIdU8DJgkVpY6AUVbrH1vUSSrSykodB_Uq5RFDO3x1f4iUP8kittVW1opm2E4nAunaXExSAXKEPFr1FRl5ZvZB2vcil8/s1600/Cliff2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2RchYD8RYMgP3zwOmc2iKs6K1eJISce-t7C_EX2MQGnw4FxNjIdU8DJgkVpY6AUVbrH1vUSSrSykodB_Uq5RFDO3x1f4iUP8kittVW1opm2E4nAunaXExSAXKEPFr1FRl5ZvZB2vcil8/s1600/Cliff2.png" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you believe this is a photograph? Thanks, again, to my amazing friend.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We had our first date. It was great! Our second was better, even more fun, because he dared to venture past the two beers + food repetition I've grown accustomed to with these Tinder-boys. He took me to a museum! Date three, he cooked for me. And it was clear he wasn't going to live up to his end of the deal either. That's when he started reminding me - and himself - not to get attached.<br />
<br />
The rest of our time was like magic. He listened. He got me. He could anticipate what my fast-racing mind was thinking next. He enjoyed how big and bright my enthusiasm can be. He appreciated my passion for my job. He constantly reminded me of my beauty. He quieted my insecurities before I even knew they were bubbling up to the surface. He loved me.<br />
<br />
And I loved him, too. I said it first. Because I could tell he wanted me to admit it. And even though he didn't right away, it was so very clear that he felt the same way. We cursed each other about it. And packaged our messages of love with our also very honest messages of hate. Because he was leaving. Because we broke the deal. Because this wasn't part of our plans. Because no matter what we felt it was going to end.<br />
<br />
Your blood probably is boiling right now, and you're not at all interested in me romanticizing him. But that little bit of magic is an important part of this story. And so is the part where I already knew...<br />
<br />
I <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Gift-Fear-Gavin-Becker/dp/0440226198">read once</a> that humor is a key indicator of reality. That often people use sarcasm or a joke to process the thing their intuition is <i>screaming</i> but that their conscious brain cannot yet see. And I had jokes for days about his wife and kids.<br />
<br />
When he told me he didn't have Facebook... And then when I saw an alert on his phone and he apologized for lying on our first date, but said he just didn't want me to friend him... When I answered "yes" to his question of whether I thought I was ready for a real relationship, and he quickly reiterated that he didn't mean with him... When he was walking me out of his hotel and quipped that if his colleagues saw him he would have "some explaining to do"... And then, finally, when he mentioned sending "pictures of us" to his sister when they re-connected. And in response to my, "of your wife and kids?" he said, "ask me what you want to ask me, but be sure you want to hear the answer."<br />
<br />
And so I asked. Starting with the one I could bear.<br />
<br />
"Do you have any kids?"<br />
<br />
"Yes, one."<br />
<br />
"How old?"<br />
<br />
"Five months."<br />
<br />
Fuck. Young. Too young probably for a clean-breakup-and-new-life scenario to be anywhere near reality.<br />
<br />
"Are you married?"<br />
<br />
"Yes."<br />
<br />
<i>Fuck.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
There was nothing I could say. He offered to leave. I said no, that I needed a minute to process, but then I was going to have a lot of questions. To his credit he stayed. And he answered them all.<br />
<br />
You probably expected me to rage. But I didn't. I cried. I was sad. That wasn't how it was supposed to end. That wasn't how it was supposed to be, at all. But I wasn't angry. I was hurt for her, because I've been on the other end of this scenario. And I was hurt for me, because I believed a lie even though I knew deep down that it was a lie.<br />
<br />
I fell apart a little. I said the fear-filled thing that I still pray isn't true, "maybe I <i>am</i> <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2015/01/unlucky-in-love.html">cursed in love</a>." And again he quieted my insecurities. He expressed his regret that he let it get this far. He frustration with himself that he fell in love with me, too. When he really was just looking to be not-bored and maybe feed his ego a little bit.<br />
<br />
And then he told me all of the reasons that he loved me. How if he were single he would "do everything in [his] power" to make me his girlfriend and keep me forever. Because I'm perfect. And then he promised me that there is a man out there who will love me even better, who isn't also a lying asshole.<br />
<br />
I thanked him.<br />
<br />
Laugh if you have to! But I did. I hated him. But I thanked him. Because this man, who had literally no desire for anything but carefree entertainment, who had every reason in the world to remain detached, who obviously has severe entitlement issues that probably should be worked out with professional help, couldn't prevent himself from falling in love with me. And had to tell me, even though he promised himself he never would, because he "couldn't hold it inside anymore."<br />
<br />
Compare that to the typical Tinder-boy? The typical any-kind-of guy? Or the Ex...<br />
<br />
A cheating, lying, asshole raised my standard of treatment from men! Maybe <i>I</i> should work that out with professional help...<br />
<br />
He left. I cried a little more and went to bed. I woke up the next day a little stunned and regretful but mostly filled with appreciation. Even in the beginning with the Ex, even after six months of dating again, those few weeks were the first time I've felt what it means to be truly loved. And that knowledge is going to be very useful, <i>already has</i> been very useful. He put me out of my misery with the string of men who never loved me. And now, going forward, I don't ever have to wonder. I know by comparison if the man on the other side of the table recognizes my worth.<br />
<br />
As fucked-up as it all is, I am counting that as a gift.<br />
<br />
<br />Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-32581822638737698012015-03-08T23:20:00.000-04:002015-03-08T23:20:34.058-04:00The MixtapeI sent a mixtape to a guy I like. A real one. On cassette. With all the excitement and expectation and insecurity of a high school senior circa 1999 (which - incidentally - is the last time I had done such a thing).<br />
<br />
It started out as half-a joke. My favorite playground. I love to take an idea too far. To surprise and delight by blasting through everyone's expectations. To make a lasting impression.<br />
<br />
What an opportunity!<br />
<br />
So I ordered a tape recorder and four-pack of cassettes on Amazon. And spent one long Sunday sifting through my entire music collection. It honestly took forever to find the right set of songs. Music he would like. Messages in that not-often-sung zone of "I think you're pretty great. Let's hang out more. Ok?" I payed special attention to the tones and transitions between songs. I wanted this tape to be a work of art.<br />
<br />
I nailed it.<br />
<br />
And then, because I am the world's worst at surprises (I get too excited to hold them inside!!!), I sent him a snapchat of the tape. And also asked for his address. I probably could have found it, but I didn't want to be creepy...<br />
<br />
The following Tuesday I left work in time to go to the post office and sent it on its way. At that exact moment, the terror set in. While the tape weaved its way through land and air and weather delays, I worried. It was a lot of feelings in one place. And there was no turning back. No ambiguity. No <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rfjtpp90lu8">blame it</a> on the alcohol. No hiding from vulnerability.<br />
<br />
I emailed the girls and asked for a pep talk. And boy did they deliver!<br />
<br />
<i>Side note: if you don't have a pack of fierce beauties who love you more than words and aren't afraid to wreak you with honesty, stop everything you are doing and devote yourself to assembling one!</i><br />
<br />
I carried their words with me as reminders. A mantra: maybe I won't get the response I want - hell, he could hate it - but at least I get to be brave.<br />
<br />
And brave is what my musician friend called me when I told her what I'd done. She noticed that I do this kind-of thing all the time: go all in, fling myself off the cliff, dive in head-first without checking the depth. You'd think with a pattern like that I'd get comfortable with discomfort.<br />
<br />
Sigh... Nope.<br />
<br />
We continued the conversation for a few days. She asked how I recover when I go in big and it doesn't turn out the way I've planned. How do I stay brave enough to do it all again? I had to think about that one for a while. And because I don't really know what I think until I read it back, I tackled the idea in an email:<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;">My dear,</span><br />
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;">It never goes as planned. Ever. Even when I make a deal with the Universe that this will be the last deal we ever make. Still no. Think of it like a movie. Like every great love story you’ve ever seen. There is always the leap of faith. The first one. The early one when Meg Ryan flies her happy ass all the way to Seattle only to see <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d9pY8EWE06o">Tom Hanks get out of the car and hug another woman</a> (not his lover, but she doesn’t know that!!) or Julia Roberts gets cozy in her fancy penthouse suite only to be <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h2cyBOtKot4">propositioned by Richard Gere's dick-bag friend</a> who smacks her across the face for refusing. Do you think that was part of their plan?! The stories we tell ourselves never come true in the timelines that we set for them (it’s part of the reason I think <a href="http://topachievement.com/smart.html">SMART goals</a> are bullshit - but that’s another discussion).</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;">So YES! recovery is important. Because <i>recovery is mandatory</i>. When you fling your heart off a cliff like that, you have to have the strength to climb back up. It is the only way to give yourself the opportunity to fling it off again… Because one time when you do, you won’t fall. You will fly.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;">The hard part is: <b>the only way to truly build the strength for that climb, is in the climbing</b>. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5nJXEBaKpvdfeCmYT68cHtM2t6rs_tIhp0jD5LsO_iI5NNGWH5cBmeyMh0QJywzjazfwrFxO9VGounop3xdBFvx4jkYxVADphbUM82zq5GtYx7Xr34TNVjDDr9Me-4OTWApsrylSGWU/s1600/PatCliff1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5nJXEBaKpvdfeCmYT68cHtM2t6rs_tIhp0jD5LsO_iI5NNGWH5cBmeyMh0QJywzjazfwrFxO9VGounop3xdBFvx4jkYxVADphbUM82zq5GtYx7Xr34TNVjDDr9Me-4OTWApsrylSGWU/s1600/PatCliff1.png" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: That same amazing photographer. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;">But you can build other strengths, things to call upon when you are half-way back up and feel like your arms can’t hold on anymore. There are a few reminders that make it all possible:</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<b><span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;">1) It isn’t going to kill you.</span></b></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;">You might feel like you want to die. But you won’t literally die. A boy can reject you. He can take a long look at your pretty little heart and decide that he doesn’t want to see it ever again. And even if he is an immature asshole and decides to stomp it into the pavement before he goes, it won’t stop beating. Hearts are resilient like that!</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<b><span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;">2) You’ve been through worse.</span></b></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;">We all have. My constant refrain about these men is, “what’s he gonna do to me?” Because unless he marries me, controls me, abuses me, separates me from my friends and family, convinces me I’m unworthy of love, cheats on me, and ultimately decides to leave me because <i>I </i> don’t measure up, then this new guy ain’t got nothin' on what I’ve been through - and that’s part of what I mean when I say the strength comes from the climb.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;">You’ve climbed out of worse, yourself, my dear. You've marched forward when everything would seem to hold you back. You've flung your heart off that cliff and had to save yourself from the rocks.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<b><span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;">3) There is always something better.</span></b></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;">I believe in God. I believe I have a fierce and feisty guardian angel. I believe that the Universe has a force and power that is ultimately unknowable and probably is tied up tight with the Holy Spirit. And those wicked three have taken me from nothing to everything. They have protected me from danger. They removed my ex from my life when I was ready and willing to sit in that torture chamber forever. Because they have something better in mind. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;">That is part of the movie too. The second leap. The leap that requires you to <b>love yourself and believe that you deserve all of God’s gifts</b>. Think of Meg Ryan sitting at the top of the Empire State Building holding back tears with everything she’s got because she bet on magic and she’s up there all alone. Or Julia Roberts back in that dump apartment she shares with Kit after her whirlwind week. And then, when they least expect it, there they come: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qeY1mkXqKgk">Tom Hanks up the elevator</a>. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XL-sTZsXMYk">Richard Gere charging into her neighborhood in the limo</a>. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;">The key. The critical key. Is remembering that the jump that doesn’t kill you isn’t going to be the jump that saves you in the end. Movies have to keep things simple. Life is bigger and better than that. Not dying (and climbing back up) isn’t the same as flying. And <b>flying is what we’re after here</b>. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;">And the last most important thing is relying on your friends. And that’s a baby fling and a baby climb in itself. Because you have to be willing to be vulnerable with them, too. To be honest about who you are and what you want and what you’ve done. And all those baby climbs build strength for the bigger ones.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;">Take my stupid example: I had to be willing to tell you that I was scared. That’s not the same scope and scale as putting my soul into 60 minutes of music and shipping it 1000 miles. But it still requires vulnerability. And what if you had said I was stupid? That <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=01gDf_Tr6YU">he’s not that into me</a> and I should have just let well enough alone? That reaction was a possibility I had to face to get the benefit of your enthusiastic support. It’s the same thing with the big flings. It’s why they’re so valuable. And worth all the effort of climbing back up after you fall.<span style="font-size: 12px;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"><3</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<br />
I don't know if I was quieting her fears or my own. I'm not sure that it matters. We both survived the week.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-84797622482693782072015-01-26T21:35:00.000-05:002015-02-28T09:33:40.784-05:00Unlucky in LoveI send men back to their ex-girlfriends, their former love-interests, their old flames.<br />
<br />
A palm reader once told me that I am <i>unlucky in love</i>. She said that the men I want never stay and the men I don't want won't go away - but she could help me out with that for another $50. I declined.<br />
<br />
So now I send men back to their old flames. I'm not being dramatic. This is statistically significant. I'm a scientist. I have the data. In the last six months there was the CrossFitter, and the Engineer, and the Lobbyist. And those are the ones I know about (some guys disappear without a Facebook-trace...).<br />
<br />
I guess I could be offended by this. Take it to mean that I am so horrendous as a potential love-match that these fetching men have no choice but to seek the comfort of someone they had previously discarded, or previously lacked the courage or the space or the time to pursue.<br />
<br />
But that's not really my style.<br />
<br />
The way I see it, it could just as easily be my <i>too much</i> (rather than my <i>not enough</i>) that sends these men back down old roads. They come into my life looking for fun, looking for pretty, looking for amusement, and probably distraction. I provide all that. But I also have an inquisitive mind, an open heart, and a passion for the world. A vision. A direction. A life.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>I am so much more than a one night stand.</b><br />
<br />
And while it doesn't make logical sense that my <i>too much</i> would bring old embers and ashes back to life, I don't begrudge any of them. I might even understand.<br />
<br />
I carried a flame for a man who was not my boyfriend for quite a bit of 2014. It was a shrinking flame - no bigger than a tea light or a birthday candle - by the time September rolled around. But it was a flame nonetheless. In September I also had a seemingly good - and different - man vying for my affection. Paying me attention. Taking me on adventures. Writing me poetry.<br />
<br />
And I spent one frigid night in Alaska on the back deck of our wilderness lodge, bundled-up and worrying-out-loud to my travel-partner-soul-sister. Because you see, I was at that point: If I moved even one step closer to the Adventure-Poet, I would have to turn and blow the old flame out. No birthday wishes allowed.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPX5GXD6GLuHLcEotes81ST4lflmAsgXizRSqaN0rgRnpxLP2-pcIubdVx29FxrHey8J0VmlJDxAHnHN3pGjyZw3-flr5Lnn_QL9rVqRO3UT7Sc_ZExhEtDmoSM2irnCHHWw1OwZvmbbU/s1600/Flame.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPX5GXD6GLuHLcEotes81ST4lflmAsgXizRSqaN0rgRnpxLP2-pcIubdVx29FxrHey8J0VmlJDxAHnHN3pGjyZw3-flr5Lnn_QL9rVqRO3UT7Sc_ZExhEtDmoSM2irnCHHWw1OwZvmbbU/s1600/Flame.png" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: the best photographer I know.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Things took a different turn with the Poet. So I didn't have to take that big breath in the end. But if I had, would it have worked? Or would that change in my gaze, that momentary increase in focus, have brought to mind all the reasons that I struck that match in the first place? How much I <i>love</i> birthdays?<br />
<br />
Dim as it was, that flame was the only illumination for an imaginary ideal life. Would I have had the courage to snuff it out and make way for a bright but unknown reality? Or would I have rather poured on gasoline?<br />
<br />
The harder question came after the Poet went away (long after, actually, but that's not the point): did I have the courage to extinguish that flame for myself? Without a well-read cowboy stoking a campfire somewhere nearby? Was I capable of making that wish and then sitting in the dark for a while?<br />
<br />
If I had spent that $50, I might never have found out...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-19678268201200854142015-01-02T16:42:00.001-05:002015-01-02T16:53:18.936-05:00Resolutions Start on the 2nd(everybody knows that)<br />
<br />
Even my little sister - who refuses to make New Year's Resolutions - understands the importance of giving yourself January 1st to recover.<br />
<br />
Last year I spent New Year's with her. I flew down to Florida on Christmas morning and spent 10 days camped out in her guest room. We went on a few walks with her dog. I went for a jog one time. But otherwise we relaxed and read books and shopped. And we agreed that we both needed to start a new workout routine in the New Year.<br />
<br />
I had moved a few days before Christmas and didn't have a gym or workout strategy mapped out. My sister had canceled her gym membership for lack of use. So we both decided that we would follow <a href="http://bodeefit.com/">bodeefit.com</a>. We each downloaded the <a href="http://bodeefit.com/pages/workouts">app</a>, which is amazing. And we prepared to start. On January 2nd.<br />
<br />
New Year's Day is just too much pressure.<br />
<br />
First, I'm always hung over, or at least tired. I don't stay up past midnight very often. And I definitely don't drink champaign after (a lot) of liquor. Ever. So New Year's Eve is hard on my body. Second, <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/articlesguides/holidays/newyearsday/luckyfoods">lucky New Year's foods</a> aren't exactly diet-friendly. I don't usually resolve to improve my diet, I'm <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/01/what-i-learned-in-2012.html">allergic to enough</a> as it is. But it's the principle of the thing... And also there is football to watch. And other equally-important reasons to stay on the couch, like new Christmas books to read.<br />
<br />
So resolutions start on the 2nd. And today is January 2nd.<br />
<br />
I've mentioned before that I always share my resolutions and goals for the New Year with <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2014/02/dark-chocolate-hazelnut-bars.html">DrLindsey</a>. We keep each other accountable through email. And provide support when things go off the rails. It's amazing. We check in with each other every quarter. We reevaluate our previous goals. See what we've already accomplished. Replace any that don't make sense anymore - now that life intervened. And encourage each other to succeed.<br />
<br />
This year, tho, we took a different approach.<br />
<br />
Instead of our typical <a href="http://www.mindtools.com/page6.html">goal-setting-type</a> goals (that often turn into one more to-do list) we have set... drumroll...<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.marieforleo.com/2013/12/danielle-laporte-goals-desire/">Goals with Soul</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
(Watch the video. PS: I love how much she wanted to overcome her <i>striving</i> - <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2015/01/what-i-learned-in-2014.html">I feel that way too</a>).<br />
<br />
I mentioned this approach <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2014/05/frying-pan-steak.html">last Spring</a>, when I first found the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Desire-Map-Guide-Creating-Goals-ebook/dp/B00H7MKSRY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1399239801&sr=8-1&keywords=the+desire+map">Desire Map</a>. I bought all-in to the idea of first deciding how I want to <i>feel</i>. And then - and only then - setting goals for the year that will help me achieve those feelings. I bought a copy for DrLindsey right away. And she agreed to take the leap with me.<br />
<br />
It took me a while to discover my Core Desired Feelings. I worked through the process over multiple late-Spring evenings, sitting on my back patio. Often with a glass of wine. Basking in the soothing atmosphere. I didn't work on them after overly stress-filled days, or when I was in a rush, or when I had too much other stuff on my mind. I wanted to breathe. And do them right.<br />
<br />
I discovered my Core Desired Feelings on May 9th. I was working through the final steps of the process, reading definitions, saying words out loud and sensing how they made me feel. Eliminating any that didn't sound right or feel right or look right on the page. And then - all at once - six little words ripped my heart out.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><b>Authentic. Brilliant. In Awe. At Peace.</b></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><b><br /></b></span>
They hit me with a tidal wave of emotions. I still feel it breaking over me now when I see them all together in print. I was exhausted. And exhilarated. And overwhelmed. I had never seen anything so true about myself. In any shape or form. And I cried. Oh did I cry.<br />
<br />
I tried them on for a few days, and then a few months. And I started to see the connection between those feelings and every decision in my life. The things I wanted to do. The things I <i>didn't</i> want to do. And the burning feeling inside of me that something was amiss - that action was required - when I wasn't feeling the way I want to feel.<br />
<br />
I linked them to my work. I crafted them into a vision for how I want to exist in my basement cubicle. And I wear a reminder bracelet on my wrist. I told you: I am all in.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtIS408b7imh7Vk3TLQHR3Sh2xpXTDLRRJHNrbnxSN6xWwO9HaqXTbt7z1B2AdHUw69aJ1EgwhZ_XDZnhLQEXoWWXO7Ulm7e0UbBTDOnz9fEwXpNPieAld_9NOA_3nGXLPQYkTCGTWnqA/s1600/authenticity+truth+bomb.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtIS408b7imh7Vk3TLQHR3Sh2xpXTDLRRJHNrbnxSN6xWwO9HaqXTbt7z1B2AdHUw69aJ1EgwhZ_XDZnhLQEXoWWXO7Ulm7e0UbBTDOnz9fEwXpNPieAld_9NOA_3nGXLPQYkTCGTWnqA/s1600/authenticity+truth+bomb.tiff" height="377" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A <a href="http://www.daniellelaporte.com/truthbomb/">#truthbomb</a> by Danielle LaPorte. Seemingly made just for me!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So, for the past few weeks I have been working on the next step: setting my intentions for 2015 based on my Core Desired Feelings. And that process has been equally exhilarating. <i>You mean I get to dedicate my energy to feeling good? To feeling the way I want to feel? You mean my metric for success will be happiness?!?</i> I'm in love with the whole thing.<br />
<br />
I have four intentions for 2015. Well three and one that underwrites them all:<br />
<br />
<b style="color: #45818e;">Build-up a robust and innovative team - </b>this is my intention for work. My justification for pouring all my energy into enabling the people I admire most.<br />
<span style="color: #45818e;"><b><br /></b></span>
<b style="color: #45818e;">Dig into the depths of me - </b>this one is for me. I spent 2014 rediscovering the <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2014_04_01_archive.html">girl I lost</a>. And I like her! And I want to know everything there is to know about her!<br />
<span style="color: #45818e;"><b><br /></b></span>
<b style="color: #45818e;">Write like a motherfucker - </b>this is a <a href="http://therumpus.net/2010/08/dear-sugar-the-rumpus-advice-column-48-write-like-a-motherfucker/">quote</a>. And a call to action. Something I need to do. For myself - because I love it. For my work - because that's why they pay me. And for my relationships - because that's the best way I know how to send my love.<br />
<span style="color: #45818e;"><b><br /></b></span>
<b style="color: #45818e;">Prioritize my health and wellbeing - </b>so that I have the energy to accomplish all the rest.<br />
<br />
And they started today! I spent the whole morning working on a surprise for the team. And I know they're going to love it. And I'm writing <i>right now.</i> And I <i>feel</i> amazing. And I'm super blissed-out to have something so true to share with you. And that's the whole point.<br />
<br />
I've also exchanged emails with DrLindsey. Because making a public declaration - as fun as it is - doesn't give me the deep, heartfelt support and acknowledgement that only she can provide. Sorry. I'm not sorry. You'll just have to understand...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-52005402848032224632015-01-01T13:53:00.002-05:002015-01-01T14:22:49.358-05:00What I learned in 2014It's that time again!<br />
<br />
I get the feeling that I am late to the game with this post. Many of the blogs and news sites I follow spent the past week on their year-end wrap-ups. And I'm not going to lie: I've been <i>thinking</i> about this post for a few days, now. But I just couldn't bring myself to write it. First, because my January 1 post date is a tradition (I've done it twice!). And also, what if I had learned something <i>amazing</i> last night?<br />
<br />
So here we are: January 1, 2015. Spending just a few more minutes looking back.<br />
<br />
2014 was one of the best years of my life. Immeasurably better than <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2014/01/what-i-learned-in-2013.html">2013</a>, for sure. Hanging out at the top of the list with the year I spent in Europe and the year I found my calling. For all the same reasons... This year was <i>momentous</i> and <i>life-changing</i> and <i>deep</i> and <i>broad</i> and <i>bigger</i> than I could have ever imagined.<br />
<br />
And I learned a lot about myself, and my passions, and my desires, and my feelings. <i>Way</i> more than I ever could hope to contain in a single post. Or a single conversation. Or a single <i>anything</i> really. So after quite a bit of consideration, I've narrowed my lessons down to two. Two major lessons from 2014. Two big truths that I had not uncovered until this year.<br />
<br />
<br />
<h4>
I take up space in the Universe. </h4>
<br />
I know what you're thinking: <i>Well that's just silly. Of course you do! You're a scientist! How could it have taken you this long to realize that?! </i>And you're absolutely right. Guilty. My only retort - and it's a whisper - is that our space in the Universe is much more than physical. Even though I had to learn that I <i>do in fact</i> take up physical space, too.<br />
<br />
That was the easy part. The physical one. I achieved my goal weight in 2013. And then when that year ended badly I achieved <i>much lower</i> than my goal weight. And finally <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/05/guestblogger-jazzy-little-meatballs.html">Rachel</a> had had enough. And she took me out for dinner. And she told me I am beautiful. And then she told me I can't weigh zero. To be clear: I didn't have an eating disorder. I was sad. But the result was the same. I had to realize that I have to weigh <i>something</i> and it should probably be a weight that reflects my strength and vitality.<br />
<br />
Recognizing my right - my birthright - to <i>spiritual</i> space in the Universe was much harder. I'm a giver, by nature. And probably by nurture. I was raised to think of others, to have manners, to take care of those around me. It's how we all co-exist helpfully in this world. But I contorted <i>giving</i> to also include <i>not taking</i>. The result is self-sufficiency in a lot of ways, which is good.<br />
<br />
The result also is worrying that my thoughts or feelings or opinions might become a burden on the people I love. Taken to its extreme that worry becomes poisonous. And I spent years in a land of extremes, shrinking myself in service of another person's ego. At the time, it was the only way to stay safe. But then that became a habit. And then that became a lifestyle. And I applied it in all the rest of my relationships. And then when I didn't have to do it anymore, I didn't know how to stop.<br />
<br />
Until June.<br />
<br />
I had a disagreement with a friend. And it hurt me more than it hurt them. And the imbalance made all my concern about burdening them seem so ridiculous. I had to acknowledge my wishes and desires. Out loud. And once it was done, my fear about their possible response was overcome by my indignation and the truth came like a flash: <i>I'm allowed to say what I feel. I'm allowed to take up space in this Universe</i>. But then, that wasn't enough. It's not about permission. It's a fact of my existence. The sentence came forward in big bold print: <b>I take up space in the Universe</b>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV4_JiOs0pGR6ccFTBv9gBKoDVHClo-xLC108keSkr003IsZFgY9-Uha9AhSqT2xRifP30iFb-24C5AleEbzx5VxRuDS_9UaR6U1Obi39CKfuAPCWfk7uSRerLKm674StXcKLcIwUiDdg/s1600/Space+In+The+Universe.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV4_JiOs0pGR6ccFTBv9gBKoDVHClo-xLC108keSkr003IsZFgY9-Uha9AhSqT2xRifP30iFb-24C5AleEbzx5VxRuDS_9UaR6U1Obi39CKfuAPCWfk7uSRerLKm674StXcKLcIwUiDdg/s1600/Space+In+The+Universe.png" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank you, <a href="http://www.jpl.nasa.gov/spaceimages/details.php?id=PIA16884">NASA</a>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<h4>
The only grades that matter are the ones I give myself.</h4>
<b><br /></b>
This one was nearly <i>impossible</i> for me to learn. My last five years out of school were no match for the 22 years I spent behind the desk. The books and articles on living my best life were no match for my family's high standards for achievement. And definitely no match for my nature. Because you see, I strive. I get the A. I worry about what I could have done to make that A an A+. I seek challenge. I pursue perfection. I. <i>Strive</i>.<br />
<br />
And I apply the same strategies I've honed over two decades for predicting what my teachers and professors will want from me - to get the A - to determine what everyone else in my life will want from me, too. And I don't see their expectations as a burden. I seek them out! They give me something to achieve. A target for my energy and creativity. A guaranteed reward once they're met. And wow, do I love a gold star!<br />
<br />
But as my social circle expanded, as my career developed, as my responsibilities increased, all that striving became exhausting. And overwhelming. And stifling to my creativity. And a load that I almost couldn't carry. But how could I say no? How could I turn it off? How could I remove the outside expectations when I had internalized them so deeply? What about my gold star?!?<br />
<br />
See what I mean? Nearly impossible. And then...<br />
<br />
It seems to me that it always is the counterexample that finally drives a lesson home. Something happens that forces me to ponder simultaneously both sides of the same coin. And then the light turns on. And I get it.<br />
<br />
I had a particularly vulnerable few weeks recently. I have been opening my heart and applying my lesson about my space in the Universe and speaking my truth. Especially when that truth will be positive and uplifting to the audience. In essence I am working to show the people I love all of my love, in as many ways as I can design. But all that openness and <i>feeling</i> can sometimes make people uncomfortable - especially the data-driven-science-geniuses I roll with.<br />
<br />
And so recently when I opened the lid and poured out my heart, I tried to sit quietly, content in the fact that one of my favorites would get a smile because of me. But instead I sat in the center of my vulnerability. And it was terrifying. <i>What if they didn't like it? What if they didn't understand it? What if it was too much? How would I get my gold star?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
And there it was: <i>striving</i>. Only this time I was seriously considering making myself <i>less</i> to fit comfortably inside my imagined-worst-case-scenario of someone else's expectations. <i>Less!</i> How can I strive to be less? That ridiculous question doesn't even fit in my mouth. It is something that I never would say out loud. But I thought it. And all at once every other <i>how can I strive to be...</i> question came into focus. Both sides of the same ridiculous coin. And I get it.<br />
<br />
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<br />
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<br />Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-12841643843165115962014-09-28T15:26:00.001-04:002014-09-28T15:26:37.858-04:00Carne AdovadaThe Universe sent this recipe to me.<br />
<br />
That's a fact. Maybe you don't believe me or maybe you're rolling your eyes at just how silly this little cavegirl has become. But it's a fact and I have proof.<br />
<br />
The Universe sends me things all the time. The things I need to survive. The lessons I need to learn, right when I need to learn them. And pretty little gifts to remind me that there is a higher power looking out for me.<br />
<br />
For example, I had been telling the Universe for <i>months</i> that I wanted a purple lacrosse ball (for <a href="http://www.mobilitywod.com/about/">mobility</a>). I workout pretty hard in the morning, and then I go sit all day, which basically is a recipe for hip-mobility-disaster. So I needed a lacrosse ball to keep at my desk to provide myself some relief when the going got too tough. But I wanted a <span style="color: purple;">purple</span> lacrosse ball. My basement cubicle is a drab-brown place and I wanted any new permanent fixture to be soothing and pretty.<br />
<br />
Now before you link away because you think I've gone past silly and straight into ridiculous, let me be clear: I wasn't <i>actively</i> telling the Universe I wanted a purple lacrosse ball (you pictured me shouting my desire at the full moon, didn't you?). It's far more simple to communicate with the Universe than all that. In this case, every time I went to a sports store and found only orange or white, I'd lament to myself the lack of purple and walk away. Or when I felt myself getting tight at my desk, I'd think "man I wish I had a purple lacrosse ball right now." That kind of thing.<br />
<br />
Fast forward a few months to this Summer. I was out for a run with one of my coworkers to take advantage of the beautiful weather and a long mid-day gap between meetings. We were on the jogging trail complaining about our management (as you do) and half-mocking-half-motivating each other through the final stretch when I spotted something on the side of the trail and had to stop. It was my purple lacrosse ball.<br />
<br />
In case that isn't clear enough proof for you, let me describe the setting. We were on a jogging trail. Through a wooded area. With no lacrosse-approriate fields within miles. And I am a scientist working in a male-dominated field. Hell. My running partner and everyone else we saw on the trail that day was male. Where did this lacrosse ball come from? And why purple? Because the Universe sent it to me.<br />
<br />
I carried it in and washed it off. Now it sits in a place of prominence at my desk. I let my co-workers hold it while I tell this story whenever someone makes fun of my <a href="http://secretsofthelawofattraction.org/vision-board/how-to-make-a-vision-board/">Vision (white) Board</a> or my claims that it <i>totally works</i>! It's pretty compelling. Stops the cynical mockery right in its tracks!<br />
<br />
I also tell this story to friends when they hear me say "I want to be loved <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JCjXaEbrLdw">like a Brad Paisley song</a>," and they realize that A) I'm not kidding, and B) I'm super optimistic. The Universe <i>delivers</i>!<br />
<br />
But back to this recipe.<br />
<br />
In June I was on a work trip to New Mexico and binge ate Carne Adovada and green chile. I only make it to New Mexico a few times a year, and my local "new Mexican" restaurant is a sad disappointment, so I started to think that I needed to find a New Mexican grandmother willing to share her recipe with me. I even bought a package of dried New Mexican chiles to have on hand when I found her.<br />
<br />
I traveled back to New Mexico in August for work/play and again had the same thought, "I <i>need</i> a New Mexican grandmother's Carne Adovada recipe." I didn't want one from a cookbook or pinterest or cooks.com. I wanted something legit. With lard in it perhaps. And I put the Universe on notice.<br />
<br />
Then. At the end of August, I made a new friend. We exchanged normal get-to-know-you information and I found out he was born in New Mexico. I didn't put it all together until a week or so later when I was walking home from the grocery store. He knew about my lacrosse ball so he didn't think I was totally crazy when I texted to see if he happened to have a New Mexican grandmother. He did! AND he was willing to call his mother for her Carne Adovada recipe.<br />
<br />
And now I have it.<br />
<br />
I had to modify the original to make it SillyLittle CaveGirl-safe. But the flavor is truly authentic. A real gift from the Universe.<br />
<br />
<h2>
Carne Adovada</h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiu80aXBzA87vHZRHDrNALwKgcmaayJQhS2-LfM_4TWCeZ2uyNNV-UQGHPbj1eLhQNcknc2VVCNv0CbWXIEPlu1U6gl1MS5TO3U9XfbEXp5DIRSgJsO03Z54ipH0BS-rKPo9EsqVzn4DY/s1600/carne+adovada.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiu80aXBzA87vHZRHDrNALwKgcmaayJQhS2-LfM_4TWCeZ2uyNNV-UQGHPbj1eLhQNcknc2VVCNv0CbWXIEPlu1U6gl1MS5TO3U9XfbEXp5DIRSgJsO03Z54ipH0BS-rKPo9EsqVzn4DY/s1600/carne+adovada.png" height="356" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, those are corn tortillas. Sometimes I "cheat" a little bit...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
Ingredients</h4>
3 lbs pork shoulder, trimmed and cubed<br />
10 <a href="http://www.friedas.com/dried-new-mexico-chile/">dried New Mexico chiles</a><br />
3 cloves garlic, minced<br />
1 jalapeño (optional)<br />
3 cups water + 1 cup<br />
3 tablespoons potato starch<br />
2 tablespoons olive oil<br />
1 tablespoon salt<br />
2 teaspoons dried oregano<br />
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin<br />
Pepper<br />
<br />
<h4>
Instructions</h4>
<div>
Preheat oven to 275 degrees. Remove the stem and seeds from the dried chiles and (optional) jalapeño. Place on a baking sheet and bake at 275 degrees for 15 minutes, careful not to burn the jalapeño. Remove from oven and place in a sauce pan. Pour over 3 cups of water. Place on medium-high heat until water boils. Remover from heat, cover, and let stand for 10 minutes until peppers soften.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Meanwhile, sprinkle the salt all over the cubed pork. In a large pot over medium heat, add olive oil and garlic. Once you can smell the garlic, add the salted pork. Turn the pork frequently to brown the sides. Remove from heat and set aside.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Once the peppers have softened, pour the mixture into your blender and blend until smooth. Return the sauce to the pan and season with oregano and cumin. You can add a touch more salt and pepper here (to taste) if desired, but be careful because the pork already is salty.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Pour the sauce over the pork and turn well so that the cubes are well coated. Let cool to room temperature. Cover and refrigerate over night.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In the morning, pour the marinated pork (and all the sauce) into your Crock-Pot. Set on low and let cook until the pork is fork-tender. About 4 hours. Turn heat to low. In a small bowl, mix the potato starch into the remaining 1 cup (cold) water until dissolved. Pour potato starch slurry into the Crock-Pot and stir to combine. The sauce should thicken nicely. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Serve with (homemade paleo) tortillas, salad, avocado, etc. Makes 6 servings.</div>
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<br />Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-24202544490418178972014-08-09T21:25:00.000-04:002014-08-09T21:25:40.038-04:00Turkey Burger This is the best Turkey Burger <i>ever</i>. I'm not kidding around. I'm not even bragging...<br />
<br />
I am a huge Turkey Burger fan. When I'm feeling especially lazy and particularly hungry, I'll often walk up the hill to <a href="http://www.thecheesecakefactory.com/">Cheesecake Factory</a> and order a bun-less Turkey Burger with salad instead of fries. It's a weakness. It's my go-to snow day treat (because somehow they're open when everything else is closed). It's warm and savory and comforting. CB first introduced me to the dish and I've pretty-much eaten it with everyone I know at some point or other. My history with that burger runs <i>deep</i>.<br />
<br />
But you know I don't really <i>love </i>eating out.<br />
<br />
Sure I love good service and new and interesting foods. And I love grabbing a few cocktails and spending social time with friends (new and old). But I also feel a lot of the time that I could make just as good of a meal, or better, for a much lower cost, in the comfort of my cave.<br />
<br />
With that in mind, I set out to tackle the Turkey Burger.<br />
<br />
But I couldn't just make any old Turkey Burger. It had to be a <i>better</i> Turkey Burger. No matter what, it was going to cost less if I made it myself. And take about the same cook time as I normally spend waiting around in the Cheesecake Factory bar. And I would be able to avoid vegetable oil and the load of sugar (I'm positive) they put into their salad dressing to make me crave it all the time... All amazing benefits. But the taste! The comfort! The history! I had to best <i>all of that</i> to make making it myself worth my while (a girl's got to have her priorities).<br />
<br />
Even after I devised the recipe, prepped my <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/mise+en+place">mise</a>, and opened a <a href="http://www.reddsapple.com/">cider</a>, I was bracing myself for disappointment. Don't get me wrong. I <i>know</i> I'm a good cook (please see previous 103 blog posts for proof of my self-confidence). But I didn't know if I could recreate (or especially best) something that I loved <i>so</i> much. On the first try.<br />
<br />
But then I did.<br />
<br />
I've made this recipe a few times now (and most notably haven't been back to the Cheescake Factory since its invention). I even solicited a second opinion and was assured that this Turkey Burger recipe is one for the books (or the blog, as the case may be...). Please enjoy. And. You're welcome.<br />
<br />
<h2>
Turkey Burger</h2>
<div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNuff_KycElDNfHAKcKqO7hFxXzxXiPhIu2Hri4MI_734LQ9bnrucDD_URQ6OWN5JnTaFO1UUY9z5qhEPVJ30dlWg6GcLH5sDMC3BRmEVki5PdP5MdZKkGbPNttm_AayQCVOR7_WgyoKc/s1600/Turkey+Burger.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNuff_KycElDNfHAKcKqO7hFxXzxXiPhIu2Hri4MI_734LQ9bnrucDD_URQ6OWN5JnTaFO1UUY9z5qhEPVJ30dlWg6GcLH5sDMC3BRmEVki5PdP5MdZKkGbPNttm_AayQCVOR7_WgyoKc/s1600/Turkey+Burger.png" height="263" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you <i>really </i>want to get fancy, stir some garlic and parsley into a tablespoon of<br /><a href="http://themeanestmomma.com/2012/03/13/paleo-mayo-2-0/">homemade paleo mayo</a>. And don't forget to dress your salad in my <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2014/07/french-dressing.html">French Dressing</a>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<h4>
Ingredients</h4>
<div>
1 lb ground turkey</div>
<div>
1 egg</div>
<div>
1 cup diced yellow onion</div>
<div>
1 cup diced white mushroom</div>
<div>
2 strips thick-cut bacon, cubed</div>
<div>
2 cloves garlic, diced</div>
<div>
1 tablespoon <a href="http://www.mortonbassett.com/Herbs-from-Provence/p/44127&c=MortonBassett@SpicesDO">Herbs from Provence</a></div>
<div>
1 tablespoon olive oil</div>
<div>
Salt and pepper</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
Instructions</h4>
<div>
Place a small sauté pan over medium heat. Add cubed bacon and cook until some of the fat starts to render. Add diced onion and mushroom, and season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring often, until onion becomes translucent and mushroom as released most of its water. Add garlic. Continue cooking until everything becomes brown. Add Herbs from Provence. Stir to evenly combine. Remove from heat and set aside.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Place ground turkey in a medium bowl and combine with egg. Once the sautéed veggies are cool enough to touch, add them to the turkey and combine (I used my hands. It's easier). Roll and pat turkey mixture into evenly sized patties.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Place a large sauté pan over medium heat. Once the pan is hot add olive oil, and place turkey patties into the pan* (careful not to crowd them, you probably will need to make them in batches or use two pans). Cook thoroughly. About 4 minutes on each side. Makes 5 patties.**</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Note: This recipe probably isn't the best for the grill. The ground turkey is pretty <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/viscous">viscous</a> and probably would stick to the grill grates and turn into a disaster. I don't know what would happen if you tried ground turkey breast (I prefer the higher fat).</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Note: I wouldn't <i>dream</i> of telling you how many servings that should be. These were so amazing I wouldn't be surprised if a knife fight broke out in the kitchen over the last one (so don't say I didn't warn you!).</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-25359243217430540922014-07-21T19:49:00.000-04:002014-07-22T05:38:29.210-04:00French DressingI don't know what <a href="https://www.theeasymarket.com/wishbone-deluxe-french-dressing-16-fl-oz.html#.U4FLgV7ob3A">this</a> is. Or even <a href="http://www.iherb.com/Annie-s-Naturals-Organic-French-Dressing-8-fl-oz-236-ml/31686">this</a>. I mean. I've tasted them before. But I'm not quite sure where they came from or how they came to be known as <i>French</i>. In <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2014/06/cavelife-paleo-in-paris.html">all my time</a> in France, I never once came across a neon-lit salad dressing (but then again maybe I was just partying with the right crowd...).<br />
<br />
So. If you came looking for a paleo version of a creamy orange dressing that boasts <a href="http://www.food.com/recipe/e-z-french-dressing-24525">ketchup</a> as a key ingredient (and let's not even <i>talk</i> about the corn oil). You came to the wrong place. Sorry, I'm not sorry. But if you're looking for an amazing, mustardy, salty, tangy vinaigrette that goes great with literally everything, Welcome!<br />
<br />
I learned this recipe from the coolest French woman I know. She tossed it over every kind of green, practically nightly. And mid-way through my year in her home, I graduated from observer to support staff in her kitchen, and often made the dressing myself. I carried the recipe home with me and used it to wow my friends and woo men on let-me-cook-for-you dates (it works every time, ladies). And now I'm sharing it with all of you (because I love you all so much).<br />
<br />
I recommend mixing this dressing together in a small resealable glass container. It'll keep for basically ever (not that it will last that long). If you're picky you can put it in the refrigerator, just remember to take it out about an hour before you want to use it because real olive oil <a href="http://www.marksdailyapple.com/is-your-olive-oil-really-olive-oil/#axzz32gkyhUla">solidifies at cold temperatures</a>.<br />
<br />
You're welcome.<br />
<br />
<h2>
French Dressing</h2>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLhoOC4NbtL2rwuP0bBuT1YwVIM5T4MoNBFG-xe_X5k3c3hysrf9cRV4ELM2M5YHPLkz1tw4HkO_Yp3uScvhzgNuJ09vTCfLprdaSJ1TezK_2yiw0NVkDffojvgl2S8x0RmOytsgqIDg8/s1600/French+Dressing.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLhoOC4NbtL2rwuP0bBuT1YwVIM5T4MoNBFG-xe_X5k3c3hysrf9cRV4ELM2M5YHPLkz1tw4HkO_Yp3uScvhzgNuJ09vTCfLprdaSJ1TezK_2yiw0NVkDffojvgl2S8x0RmOytsgqIDg8/s1600/French+Dressing.png" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now isn't that 1000x more appetizing than neon orange gelatinous goop?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4>
Ingredients</h4>
</div>
<div>
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil</div>
<div>
1/4 cup vinegar (raspberry or balsamic)</div>
<div>
2 tablespoons stone ground mustard</div>
<div>
1 tablespoon dried onion flakes</div>
<div>
1 tablespoon dried chives</div>
<div>
1 tablespoon dried parsley (optional)</div>
<div>
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder</div>
<div>
1/2 teaspoon course ground sea salt</div>
<div>
1/4 teaspoon black pepper</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
Instructions</h4>
<div>
Combine ingredients in a small bowl or salad dressing shaker. Enjoy.</div>
<div>
<br />
<h4>
</h4>
<br /></div>
Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-79734970664340091212014-06-08T17:20:00.005-04:002014-07-22T05:51:12.989-04:00CaveLife: Paleo in ParisYes. It's possible.<br />
<br />
Sure. Yes. I get it. Cheese is almost a religion in France. And there are bakeries and crêpe stands on every corner. But the food culture in Paris is so centered around high quality meat, fresh game, seasonal produce, and great affordable wine, that it is one of the easiest places to maintain a primal lifestyle. <i>If you're willing to expand beyond the stereotype. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Surprised? I wasn't. But I knew what I was getting myself into...<br />
<br />
The fall of my senior year of high school (so <i>waaaaay</i> back in the old days), when my friends were spending long evenings and weekend afternoons writing essay after essay for their college applications, I was hanging out with my little sister looking for something better to do.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong. I wanted to go to college <i>eventually </i>(spoiler alert: I did go. And go. And go. That's how I ended up a silly little scientist in a basement cubicle). Just not right then. I had great grades, took AP classes, played 2 sports, did all the community service. I was <b>ready</b> for those applications. But I had other plans.<br />
<br />
I had decided the summer after my freshman year, while I was hanging out poolside between two-a-day swim practices, that it might be fun to live in Europe for a year between high school and college. Two-and-a-half years later that was still the plan (I <i>told</i> you I'm decisive).<br />
<br />
So I sent a bio and a photo to an <a href="http://www.aupair-agency.com/">au pair agency</a>, hoping that an awesome family would hire me. I didn't have a back-up plan. Didn't submit a single college application. I threw everything into this one idea (because that's what I do). And through the magic of the Universe and my guardian angel, I was hired by an amazing French family.<br />
<br />
I could go on for <i>days</i> about all the things that I learned, and the ways that I grew, while I lived with my French family. About becoming my true self, and about courage, and about the payoff when you're willing to take <b>big</b> risks. I could tell hilarious stories about watching beautiful little children experience new aspects of the world for the first time. About climbing on trash cans and breaking toddlers out of locked bathrooms and teaching baby girls their first words.<br />
<br />
And all of that is bundled up into my feelings about Paris. And my comfort when I landed. And my faith that Easter weekend with my #1 Loves from Grad School was going to be <i>amazing</i>. And my expectation that the trip was going to help me along the path toward reestablishing myself.<br />
<br />
I flew over Wednesday night and landed in Paris about dawn on Thursday. Thankfully, I sleep great on planes (even in coach. I'm little... I fit.) so I had a jump start on getting my body into the right timezone.<br />
<br />
I got off the plane at <a href="http://paris-cdg.worldairportguides.com/">Charles De Gaulle</a>, hustled to the <a href="http://parisbytrain.com/paris-rer/">RER</a> (stopping at the ATM for Euros), and hopped onto the next train to the city. What was amazing was that even though I hadn't been near an RER train for <i>years</i> the smell was exactly the same - indescribable - and brought me <i>all the way back</i> to my first trip into Paris. And it felt like home.<br />
<br />
My #1 Love Aurelia lives in a swanky neighborhood in the 6th <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/arrondissement">Arrondissement</a>, near the <a href="http://en.parisinfo.com/paris-museum-monument/71393/Jardin-du-Luxembourg">Jardin du Luxembourg</a>. So I got off the train near <a href="http://en.parisinfo.com/paris-museum-monument/71475/Cath%C3%A9drale-Notre-Dame-de-Paris-et-son-tr%C3%A9sor">Notre Dame</a>, popped up out of the RER station and caught a glimpse of the cathedral backlit by the early morning sun. Talk about a "welcome to Paris!" Then I navigated my way to Aurelia's apartment and got my <i>real</i> welcome to Paris (which was really just a lot of screaming-hugging-jumping-up-and-down in the stairwell. Sorry neighbors).<br />
<br />
Aurelia made me a delicious breakfast. Then we changed clothes and went for a brisk walk through the neighborhood and Jardin. I hadn't seen Aurelia in years and had <i>so much</i> to tell her (and her me). About life. About love. About work. About play. We finished our walk. Hit the showers. And then headed out in search of low-key tourism and lunch.<br />
<br />
We climbed up to <a href="http://en.parisinfo.com/paris-museum-monument/71192/Basilique-du-Sacr%C3%A9-Coeur-de-Montmartre">Sacré Coeur on Montmartre</a> and toured the basilica.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTt79EPHC5aCO8jdA1LkjdqSsO0GnhigNuM1JnMm3X-E8dT35LGGnoV2ttvk4pQb5Pg4ge_ytSHjj8BX0jZZvlXKSnIg2Me7OapaHPrvOUwJzV-P31MQKLNr-qg_IdrncNco5i-gGsu8/s1600/Mont+Marte.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTt79EPHC5aCO8jdA1LkjdqSsO0GnhigNuM1JnMm3X-E8dT35LGGnoV2ttvk4pQb5Pg4ge_ytSHjj8BX0jZZvlXKSnIg2Me7OapaHPrvOUwJzV-P31MQKLNr-qg_IdrncNco5i-gGsu8/s1600/Mont+Marte.png" height="223" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my favorite places to visit when I lived in France.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After the tour, we climbed back down and ordered <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salad_Ni%C3%A7oise">Salad Niçoise</a> and a bottle of rosé at a nearby cafe.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD4r8Z12ZxfnG7Hbnd-gFhSeWNK1Be8E2o5UyS9RUTl7PQSlIZTCfV0XAiFLGZlJbsEdR07nnEAcc2E8Zxvtj7Pxtn2qALkS_zTKTmN6vnHEoJhS1w1t3_lKKmKNbWWZE_VUJkHB7hjmc/s1600/salad+nic.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD4r8Z12ZxfnG7Hbnd-gFhSeWNK1Be8E2o5UyS9RUTl7PQSlIZTCfV0XAiFLGZlJbsEdR07nnEAcc2E8Zxvtj7Pxtn2qALkS_zTKTmN6vnHEoJhS1w1t3_lKKmKNbWWZE_VUJkHB7hjmc/s1600/salad+nic.png" height="248" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, we were day-drinking. It's called vacation for a reason.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Then we headed back to the home-base, changed into shorts (because the weather was <i>beautiful</i>) and walked over to the Jardin to do as the Parisians do (lay in the sun and nap). It was probably one of the top five naps of my life.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGtQM275f7uD2bXxURBQ6StOLva6Nz-agya4j5ALAB2fB7WEa91axZQQJgldjdbgejcYqYJGVzUYz3hHiKfdcBxH2QWFI3fWIozozbH8dXus0Uf5S2sTVaT587sGIagUpbHEsgbfMpnE/s1600/Jardin.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGtQM275f7uD2bXxURBQ6StOLva6Nz-agya4j5ALAB2fB7WEa91axZQQJgldjdbgejcYqYJGVzUYz3hHiKfdcBxH2QWFI3fWIozozbH8dXus0Uf5S2sTVaT587sGIagUpbHEsgbfMpnE/s1600/Jardin.png" height="400" width="316" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ahhhh. Springtime in Paris.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That night, we dined at <a href="http://www.relaisentrecote.fr/">Le Relais de l'Entrecôte</a>. The restaurant only serves four things. Steak in a delicious sauce. French fries. Salad. And Dessert. When you order, the waitress asks for your wine choice and preference for steak temperature. But be careful. The lady at the table next to us asked for well done, and they wouldn't serve her. You cannot insult the chef!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbf2Ei2ESGqJvllSJwGu4RIUUpclowB177qgmut1N5Cv352x652jBX3-WGLPm8qKYTtIguFHE7mLwBZMww04M3pCxXJjG-meouSjCEtAEDX56-FK5JcF4vGZRhkoCD_hYoWIrV6E3BG14/s1600/Salad+Steak+Night.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbf2Ei2ESGqJvllSJwGu4RIUUpclowB177qgmut1N5Cv352x652jBX3-WGLPm8qKYTtIguFHE7mLwBZMww04M3pCxXJjG-meouSjCEtAEDX56-FK5JcF4vGZRhkoCD_hYoWIrV6E3BG14/s1600/Salad+Steak+Night.png" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The salad comes immediately after you order.<br />
This would be the perfect place to go when you're hungry, except for the looong line out the door.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLYESNmh7W0n-rHzTYgAhEV-RRXbLBgqQrR0j-DiPQZPYNIcZT7TyBhlEj1jsG6T87UbTTOBOOkdTlEPCS_4zX06X0J_raExk5W_sRBCDxOi5hoUr4MQSYpCGhVoahXDgu3kbwBt7i_Q/s1600/Steak+night+paris.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLYESNmh7W0n-rHzTYgAhEV-RRXbLBgqQrR0j-DiPQZPYNIcZT7TyBhlEj1jsG6T87UbTTOBOOkdTlEPCS_4zX06X0J_raExk5W_sRBCDxOi5hoUr4MQSYpCGhVoahXDgu3kbwBt7i_Q/s1600/Steak+night+paris.png" height="287" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mine was medium-rare. And yes, I eat potatoes (they totally count!)<br />
And Sally Dee if you're reading this, please forgive the fork and knife placement.<br />
I swear it was just for the photo!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-NHhUsa3RHHZY07oApOQId1ngiNB54PUQ0VevkhB0cA124j7p89TGJeyLlyOR0BA5JkdzBIbguRnEfdZOsY0VYFlcRq5R4zy6GkWmJ_-dGwHH8xgjJD837PsLBFyF0_ar37wYBKM1iU/s1600/Steak+night+paris+line.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-NHhUsa3RHHZY07oApOQId1ngiNB54PUQ0VevkhB0cA124j7p89TGJeyLlyOR0BA5JkdzBIbguRnEfdZOsY0VYFlcRq5R4zy6GkWmJ_-dGwHH8xgjJD837PsLBFyF0_ar37wYBKM1iU/s1600/Steak+night+paris+line.png" height="223" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wasn't kidding when I said there was a line.<br />
We got there just before opening so thankfully didn't have to wait too long.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Friday morning, we slept late and Aurelia cooked a delicious breakfast of veggie hash, tomato, avocado, eggs, coffee, and juice.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC17Ij5TxPBkA4k8KD3S2TBRWPObopxKs2TPUM9veLGhUh_c7qjcPIF4blO5_z6ssqMgkHDwhaPl3nPbYUz_hEYGpixzOm6M5gNO9vbev8fk1OUwT6LWqQHNFGZ2mc6SBi0mRf8BnWvzA/s1600/Paris+Breakfast+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC17Ij5TxPBkA4k8KD3S2TBRWPObopxKs2TPUM9veLGhUh_c7qjcPIF4blO5_z6ssqMgkHDwhaPl3nPbYUz_hEYGpixzOm6M5gNO9vbev8fk1OUwT6LWqQHNFGZ2mc6SBi0mRf8BnWvzA/s1600/Paris+Breakfast+2.png" height="297" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously. How spoiled was I?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Then we left to explore a part of Paris neither of us had seen before. In all our time in the city, we hadn't visited the French military museum at <a href="http://en.parisinfo.com/paris-museum-monument/71310/H%C3%B4tel-national-des-Invalides">Hôtel national des Invalides</a> or Napoleon's Tomb. So this was the day!<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFxMOP7KXFw19CHpJtcR9vg3Fx1Abf7Z5PXOZ4NMdZBq8sTRWSs_8fD6MS0SPoPC9fbdd3fOIO9xLDPYxgWrgb9LqCwXUPLrbQCh0J0JiJm61vlehWFDO6WNMpKWEDF6Np5ldPglC2pCw/s1600/Invalides+Grounds.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFxMOP7KXFw19CHpJtcR9vg3Fx1Abf7Z5PXOZ4NMdZBq8sTRWSs_8fD6MS0SPoPC9fbdd3fOIO9xLDPYxgWrgb9LqCwXUPLrbQCh0J0JiJm61vlehWFDO6WNMpKWEDF6Np5ldPglC2pCw/s1600/Invalides+Grounds.png" height="223" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The museum grounds are pretty great by themselves because of the funny trees,<br />
the moat, and also because of the <a href="http://traveltoeat.com/the-cannons-of-les-invalide-paris/">cannons</a>. I'm a sucker for copper cannons.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div>
<div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_Ijp-fFOSdTGHQ1HRZ_YIlw3IzMdYhxQssGXq3Vi3gWwqs9g-JHAytmQ_8WW65VQ9UA_oSa8nsOoU918k4QM0RSTLQQgPkp7j1t4ZzA3TbJXhO_cZ8GCYHH0L7QrXDz548CpCRBrXOE/s1600/Nep's+Tomb.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_Ijp-fFOSdTGHQ1HRZ_YIlw3IzMdYhxQssGXq3Vi3gWwqs9g-JHAytmQ_8WW65VQ9UA_oSa8nsOoU918k4QM0RSTLQQgPkp7j1t4ZzA3TbJXhO_cZ8GCYHH0L7QrXDz548CpCRBrXOE/s1600/Nep's+Tomb.png" height="400" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Napoleon's Tomb or as Aurelia called it,<br />
"The most impressive monument to a<br />
personality on Earth."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Then we walked back toward the 6th along the Seine where I snapped my own version of one of <i>the </i>quintessential Parisian pictures.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmpAFjnVstc0AAAfvAaF5cVORiwkNAELt4jEn7Bt0_y2eyfHOQPEsGoshQJmJ8k894qEUK8LkKn9voAcVEByBo0DqyojYiK1QqT9kg-a0E3iYZmEp7S5STqhag_PrSHA-LzbiTHeY3RYU/s1600/Paris+River.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmpAFjnVstc0AAAfvAaF5cVORiwkNAELt4jEn7Bt0_y2eyfHOQPEsGoshQJmJ8k894qEUK8LkKn9voAcVEByBo0DqyojYiK1QqT9kg-a0E3iYZmEp7S5STqhag_PrSHA-LzbiTHeY3RYU/s1600/Paris+River.png" height="400" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How can you not love this place? There is beauty around every corner!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We had a little café near the <a href="http://en.parisinfo.com/paris-museum-monument/71065/Mus%C3%A9e-du-Louvre">Louvre</a> to perk ourselves up from all the walking. And also to prepare ourselves for the long night ahead. Our other #1 Love Kristin was flying in from Moscow late that night, and we had plans to cook a midnight dinner at home once she arrived. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We made haste to the markets after finishing our café to collect meat, veggies, and wine for dinner. We also decided to treat ourselves to a delicious snack.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOt2b5yCoC5t-zqWDHPd0e-a_JV4W8oOJ1923_yXkFO_a68Vie6ePn8v84Ny4NMWiTql-9cPM4ct4kzyZpW9XJK3zU2oaO4nmV2BIffDuY3gQDmwSmsXRREQLHTf6szgrPUB-mOpR6UxA/s1600/paris+salmon+snack.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOt2b5yCoC5t-zqWDHPd0e-a_JV4W8oOJ1923_yXkFO_a68Vie6ePn8v84Ny4NMWiTql-9cPM4ct4kzyZpW9XJK3zU2oaO4nmV2BIffDuY3gQDmwSmsXRREQLHTf6szgrPUB-mOpR6UxA/s1600/paris+salmon+snack.png" height="383" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Artichoke, smoked salmon, lemon, olives, homemade olive oil garlic basil mayonaise,<br />
and of course champaign. "Because we can!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
When we were full and mostly drunk on champaign, Aurelia told me all about her recent trip to Kenya and showed me her amazingly-beautiful pictures. I decided then that Kristin and I <i>had</i> to make our next major adventure a safari (of course I planned to ask her opinion, but I also knew she'd say yes)!<br />
<br />
When Kristin arrived, we walked down to the RER station to meet her and had another screaming-hugging-jumping-up-and-down celebration on the sidewalk in the middle of the night. Then we whisked her home for a bottle of good wine and our delicious midnight dinner (we even saved her a little bit of the champaign, because we're <i>that </i>kind of friends).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-ozSbTnMP5-h7YTzabbSvSlKEtjxBJOu_wxmx9EmtbhuyM0Sp9L3seG3fExrD6UPsiFQ0YxLVipYkZax7tM5FNFTErtommrG5hL5b8TsKh1KH1cMF_TM8TYtndeBAXjtvWEMZzXOVLU/s1600/Paris+Midnight+Dinner.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-ozSbTnMP5-h7YTzabbSvSlKEtjxBJOu_wxmx9EmtbhuyM0Sp9L3seG3fExrD6UPsiFQ0YxLVipYkZax7tM5FNFTErtommrG5hL5b8TsKh1KH1cMF_TM8TYtndeBAXjtvWEMZzXOVLU/s1600/Paris+Midnight+Dinner.png" height="328" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Filet, radicchio salad, and sweet potato fries.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We laughed and joked. We caught up on girl talk. And then we passed out.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next morning, Aurelia spoiled us again with an amazing homemade egg scramble with fresh veggies and <i>tons</i> of cilantro. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82tf3Qk2PjXMDb7nushnM_vinLKqR3htuQkMalpeCr99ULOGJvn3lzBKcZqeetlx-5hsdYR6SVg0hu1Ybdd4c7-mfYrXcvvy_2CUsf0BJ9KUeLTkHKwF1qPbaNHNT5EFlTXrzAEm2dV8/s1600/Paris+Sat+Breakfast.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82tf3Qk2PjXMDb7nushnM_vinLKqR3htuQkMalpeCr99ULOGJvn3lzBKcZqeetlx-5hsdYR6SVg0hu1Ybdd4c7-mfYrXcvvy_2CUsf0BJ9KUeLTkHKwF1qPbaNHNT5EFlTXrzAEm2dV8/s1600/Paris+Sat+Breakfast.png" height="291" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously. Spoiled.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
And then it was time for tourism. Whereas Aurelia and I had both seen a lot of the city, this was Kristin's first time in Paris. So we organized our Saturday around making sure she saw the must-see attractions. We started at Notre Dame because it was the closest.<br />
<div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWv23JLRouh0veTvhwoPXvhAxa-EBwojgZNzVUAlp5LLiYi3ymuNEh8tzgNjTKtPLZZGp7EtX0UMwUIF9J6opRY63_8Aa02gFU6gYikx3ZPgolFP5UVpCQmUiO3kkVF_8xysJZroWKjk/s1600/Notre+Dame.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWv23JLRouh0veTvhwoPXvhAxa-EBwojgZNzVUAlp5LLiYi3ymuNEh8tzgNjTKtPLZZGp7EtX0UMwUIF9J6opRY63_8Aa02gFU6gYikx3ZPgolFP5UVpCQmUiO3kkVF_8xysJZroWKjk/s1600/Notre+Dame.png" height="400" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Easter, right?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Then found a nice little place to enjoy a café and get Kristin her first-ever <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pain_au_chocolat">pain au chocolate</a>. It smelled amazing and would have been tempting, but my café came with a homemade dark chocolate truffle (totally counts).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihUAOzLXFcUahCYXegHHePG_57PM5hlww501SlIHmDzYp1-5lZsRes5lkeYynhbXJFxONldt_TZ-X6BICxLolJCcisYqNqwnBBF5RTN8bupo9L3KibqDCsFLW_DeuV_wrZyj7h0XbbtoY/s1600/paris+cafe+truffle.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihUAOzLXFcUahCYXegHHePG_57PM5hlww501SlIHmDzYp1-5lZsRes5lkeYynhbXJFxONldt_TZ-X6BICxLolJCcisYqNqwnBBF5RTN8bupo9L3KibqDCsFLW_DeuV_wrZyj7h0XbbtoY/s1600/paris+cafe+truffle.png" height="315" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ok. Maybe I ate two dark chocolate truffles. Maybe.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We walked around the city some more. I bought an amazing oil painting from the venders on the side of the Seine (that's now hanging in my living room), and a few souvenirs for the less fortunate back home. Aurelia haggled with one of the vendors until she got the perfect Air France poster for a rock-bottom price. And then we headed back to the markets to find the perfect ingredients for our Easter Sunday Brunch.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That was one of the most fun parts of this trip. The food shopping. I love the grocery store. So being able to go daily to the markets, see what looked best, pick out meat and fresh produce to eat that day (or the next) was a real pleasure. We took everything back to the apartment, changed clothes, and headed toward the <a href="http://en.parisinfo.com/paris-museum-monument/71062/Tour-Eiffel">Tour Eiffel</a> by way of our dinner reservations.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Aurelia asked me when I first arrived where I thought we should take Kristin for dinner on her first trip to Paris. We kicked around a few ideas but nothing could top Aurelia's first suggestion: <a href="http://www.alapetitechaise.fr/english.htm">La Petite Chaise</a>, the oldest and longest continuously operating restaurant in Paris. How could we not? The food was traditional French. The wine was delicious. And this time, everyone had dessert.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg41TOXBRzTTaxWeKCpE394jUpRhhv4L3_0wl5pu3TBvfSAzLGoxCkrQGmAHmhZzrtg7DsuVwlgpDTMzYGJ7nN15bCDXk9S7J86HP0O3QqQS61vw1j-VcyqfXhwk4yAwRYggEmoF8tus7o/s1600/Paris+petite+chaise+starter.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg41TOXBRzTTaxWeKCpE394jUpRhhv4L3_0wl5pu3TBvfSAzLGoxCkrQGmAHmhZzrtg7DsuVwlgpDTMzYGJ7nN15bCDXk9S7J86HP0O3QqQS61vw1j-VcyqfXhwk4yAwRYggEmoF8tus7o/s1600/Paris+petite+chaise+starter.png" height="241" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To start I had a bacon and egg dish in onion broth... </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqU-HIVD9NGFTLbaNgxwy_YKo2X3pOOGdqw2TzLyLe7XVYbYtEP5PUSC3opCgcSWRwH8HbpR_VS2RBXRs3o6Anrk9-bcfEYypIz4FdLkUrU9zwRqHi3rG2jzSOCGk3r3mDR0cJqNUc0PY/s1600/paris+escargot.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqU-HIVD9NGFTLbaNgxwy_YKo2X3pOOGdqw2TzLyLe7XVYbYtEP5PUSC3opCgcSWRwH8HbpR_VS2RBXRs3o6Anrk9-bcfEYypIz4FdLkUrU9zwRqHi3rG2jzSOCGk3r3mDR0cJqNUc0PY/s1600/paris+escargot.png" height="326" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... and one of Kristin's escargot.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC6MNsnG49ZB2S6FifpA5sRYnBGuWJNmtNRCJui2oSIn_3jO3x5qe7KrgjUuZxykbomUSjisJP6QWzJ6mDDrK41K71yD6ymC0WYZs_cMJTS46Znr_cTsDK6sjWLR7EQ4UEKOvY1IcXJmU/s1600/Paris+Duck.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC6MNsnG49ZB2S6FifpA5sRYnBGuWJNmtNRCJui2oSIn_3jO3x5qe7KrgjUuZxykbomUSjisJP6QWzJ6mDDrK41K71yD6ymC0WYZs_cMJTS46Znr_cTsDK6sjWLR7EQ4UEKOvY1IcXJmU/s1600/Paris+Duck.png" height="273" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For my main course, I had the duck breast with pear and a delicious potato casserole<br />
(that I am <i>totally </i>going to recreate at some point).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6m1lYl8PaifeOM2vRDkb-X4xTi8KVlJc16ybeWeyP7coaltS8ZrqTh0n-RXJFXjf8x6xZDE3zC4hWPCwoA8mWKvEnIbJWSyrC7wMm1Q7zRR9QchBRjAvUK4qpSj9q20ySsG_tltKtynA/s1600/Paris+Petite+C+Wine.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6m1lYl8PaifeOM2vRDkb-X4xTi8KVlJc16ybeWeyP7coaltS8ZrqTh0n-RXJFXjf8x6xZDE3zC4hWPCwoA8mWKvEnIbJWSyrC7wMm1Q7zRR9QchBRjAvUK4qpSj9q20ySsG_tltKtynA/s1600/Paris+Petite+C+Wine.png" height="400" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And of course there was wine.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI3giHlfbBNNdcZPeOpambwktrZA8tM_dNyLfqgpZE0p7FbDKXl5aYlOsQLH7PXhrs-UiRa4Ohbf89ar-pZPpSGs1h_Q3gYCtGlpbwK4XaQaXjDWJhSLR9btQrh2dPvBTanuM3CuFzfiQ/s1600/Paris+Creme+Brule.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI3giHlfbBNNdcZPeOpambwktrZA8tM_dNyLfqgpZE0p7FbDKXl5aYlOsQLH7PXhrs-UiRa4Ohbf89ar-pZPpSGs1h_Q3gYCtGlpbwK4XaQaXjDWJhSLR9btQrh2dPvBTanuM3CuFzfiQ/s1600/Paris+Creme+Brule.png" height="252" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes. I had dessert. Yes. It was Crème brûlée. No. It's not paleo.<br />
I couldn't resist. I didn't eat the whole thing (not even close!)<br />
And still, it was more sugar than I had probably eaten in an entire year...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
After dinner, we continued our walk to the Tour Eiffel. It was late, and the tower was twinkling on the top of every hour. There were people everywhere, and the mood was festive and bright.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvDcxpXVrp9PIHFvq30lUHtdg8DxxpzjOdqTfH1JTgjRsWkuGSvs-YkxsiJoZ8j9Y3iZ7aWEryGpbo1JQ_OqumaBa64BqQUcGNP6L0Gx06Y6OSUQi7qKE1kUP7Tx5wH_HFHxjal8EgSDQ/s1600/Paris+Tour+Eiffel.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvDcxpXVrp9PIHFvq30lUHtdg8DxxpzjOdqTfH1JTgjRsWkuGSvs-YkxsiJoZ8j9Y3iZ7aWEryGpbo1JQ_OqumaBa64BqQUcGNP6L0Gx06Y6OSUQi7qKE1kUP7Tx5wH_HFHxjal8EgSDQ/s1600/Paris+Tour+Eiffel.png" height="400" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I probably took 50 pictures. This is my favorite one.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We waited to see the twinkling spectacle close up and then walked across the bridge to take a midnight spin on the cutest little carousel on Earth.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEickR0qJpBJiQipVz5e-tmZNjQl7eujDxYzHN9Hxjxq9RUjoXwdf0-IzfY6A1-AfDVl82Zq7kf8G69RhgD0qfhea5UlCFTW9wvaWUmAVslSITWtri-PwD3DA0hppp4kManuk9FwvuUy8DM/s1600/Paris+Carousel.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEickR0qJpBJiQipVz5e-tmZNjQl7eujDxYzHN9Hxjxq9RUjoXwdf0-IzfY6A1-AfDVl82Zq7kf8G69RhgD0qfhea5UlCFTW9wvaWUmAVslSITWtri-PwD3DA0hppp4kManuk9FwvuUy8DM/s1600/Paris+Carousel.png" height="400" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You know all those dreams?<br />
They came true!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The next day was Easter. We slept late, updated social media, and started cooking the prettiest brunch I have ever eaten. I should note, Aurelia did most of the work. Kristin and I sipped champaign, arranged the radishes, and provided the moral support.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVi4OzVApUyeiOTsqvuNipfdRQbLQTLFefVDq2bC8pp0HSwOQBECuxPr9UkBk25vtOGgTaUSqleJzu9Vod9XwsfEfbt_nupYdC-E_kB6obER2XS0c6I0RwDz1h4QR8yyP45KyFl-jauJk/s1600/Paris+Easter+Ingredients.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVi4OzVApUyeiOTsqvuNipfdRQbLQTLFefVDq2bC8pp0HSwOQBECuxPr9UkBk25vtOGgTaUSqleJzu9Vod9XwsfEfbt_nupYdC-E_kB6obER2XS0c6I0RwDz1h4QR8yyP45KyFl-jauJk/s1600/Paris+Easter+Ingredients.png" height="400" width="273" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Champaign. Juice. Melon. Radishes. Quail Eggs.<br />
Cured meat. Heirloom tomatoes. Strawberries. And a surprise.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzaJ_UohC3jTWRFVC03B_1Y99nCE6pUyNQT8Oirx5YrkYuoOQpu-Ixo-WsJYK_DjQPaPLFzabMpkusv97rUkfAqhd94zOm_o5wm6AwgdpQiG0kbvdIqN_8-YYLQsJfIkSzkAZgummuMmE/s1600/Paris+Quail+Eggs.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzaJ_UohC3jTWRFVC03B_1Y99nCE6pUyNQT8Oirx5YrkYuoOQpu-Ixo-WsJYK_DjQPaPLFzabMpkusv97rUkfAqhd94zOm_o5wm6AwgdpQiG0kbvdIqN_8-YYLQsJfIkSzkAZgummuMmE/s1600/Paris+Quail+Eggs.png" height="293" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We picked quail eggs because a) they're delicious and b) they come pre-painted.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsnhSEQSmS50LZ1P6z8KXSLMvWR5fN74AgZDADCrczvhHInyGWCPTtlUXW7MeN5Um1ELIdU6qX9zeU4dl7I3hW41xZwteKLsx1-QCXKcHIzKTJQswve5s2wZiiHO6_R_pDguhO_BejaUY/s1600/Paris+Brunch.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsnhSEQSmS50LZ1P6z8KXSLMvWR5fN74AgZDADCrczvhHInyGWCPTtlUXW7MeN5Um1ELIdU6qX9zeU4dl7I3hW41xZwteKLsx1-QCXKcHIzKTJQswve5s2wZiiHO6_R_pDguhO_BejaUY/s1600/Paris+Brunch.png" height="357" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our pretty Easter table. Between the three of us, we pretty-much ate all of it, too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjV_0-8mGNGV98MlomC6ROSNa60hRhfcDmirHFy_dAu0X0WRfYMhap30wE1HcHWLpWzH2VZkepRgVOcw1RqmtR4_IjF16txwHJjOBI31kHwTk3P2QJ9t-GACPfR1Sm0nk7MjNwzXaOuA8/s1600/Paris+Brunch+Apple+Tart.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjV_0-8mGNGV98MlomC6ROSNa60hRhfcDmirHFy_dAu0X0WRfYMhap30wE1HcHWLpWzH2VZkepRgVOcw1RqmtR4_IjF16txwHJjOBI31kHwTk3P2QJ9t-GACPfR1Sm0nk7MjNwzXaOuA8/s1600/Paris+Brunch+Apple+Tart.png" height="281" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And for dessert we had <i>the </i>apple tart from <i>the </i>Parisian bakery. And it was amazing.<br />
And proof that the quality of the ingredients matter: I didn't react to the wheat at all.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
For Easter afternoon, we took Kristin up the <a href="http://en.parisinfo.com/transport/73239/Champs-%C3%89lys%C3%A9es">Champs-Élysées</a>. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhH5MMH5OPfr_g4YKyIxW5yYZN5YGSyDnmtpXM6z5HxrKerJHkyxBzTNp1mhjpKkno_3Ad7RIe-Dy3wOrwMThOj-orDYW_5aVc7-pHzQZdYf4XAX3FI9NvPE_ZO1F5LcvREgz_g5My1oI/s1600/Paris+Lovers+Bridge.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhH5MMH5OPfr_g4YKyIxW5yYZN5YGSyDnmtpXM6z5HxrKerJHkyxBzTNp1mhjpKkno_3Ad7RIe-Dy3wOrwMThOj-orDYW_5aVc7-pHzQZdYf4XAX3FI9NvPE_ZO1F5LcvREgz_g5My1oI/s1600/Paris+Lovers+Bridge.png" height="278" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="text-align: start;">On the way we stopped to watch the lovers attaching <br />their locks to the railing at </span><a href="http://en.parisinfo.com/transport/73161/Pont-de-l'Archev%C3%AAch%C3%A9" style="text-align: start;">Pont de l'Archevêché</a><span style="text-align: start;">.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
While we were out, the girls talked me into buying a <a href="http://www.guerlain.com/int/en-int/fragrance/womens-fragrances/la-petite-robe-noire/la-petite-robe-noire-eau-de-parfum-spray">very expensive perfume</a> by one of the <a href="http://www.slapiton.tv/feature_guerlain_history.html">oldest perfume houses in the world.</a> To be honest, I didn't need much convincing. I kind-of loved the idea of from that moment taking on a new signature scent. A fresh start to mark the next chapter of my life. I wear it every day (and some nights) and remember not only my #1 Loves but also the feeling of that Easter afternoon, of being truly myself and truly at peace.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then we hopped in a Taxi and headed back to Aurelia's apartment, because I had a dinner date with my amazing French family from the au pair days. They were lovely and welcoming and just as fun and loud and full of life as I remembered. The kids are grown. And the family make-up has changed. But the spirt was still alive and well. It made me miss Paris even though I was in it. And it made me regret spending so much time away from them. I vowed then to see them all again soon. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And then that was it. The trip was over.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next morning, Kristin and I had to catch a flight back to the states. I used the free WiFi in the United lounge to download <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Little_Prince">The Little Prince</a> in French and English. I had left my copy at home, but felt with all the tender emotions and feelings of renewal and life lessons bubbling up in me from the trip, I needed it close to me on the flight home.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">One sees clearly only with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye.</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I read both versions on the plane and a few other things. I slept. I drank (a little). And I started to transition myself back to real life. Even though it was short, it was one of the top five trips of my life. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I cannot wait for our next adventure!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-46894979086065354022014-05-10T17:31:00.002-04:002014-05-10T17:31:29.992-04:00Green SmoothieI have a love-hate relationship with breakfast.<br />
<br />
I <i>love</i> coffee. And breakfast food (all of them). And lingering at the breakfast table reading the news or blogs or Facebook. Sipping a second cup of coffee. The smell of bacon cooking. "Dippy" eggs. Day drinking (oh, that's brunch. but still...). You get it. I love it.<br />
<br />
But I <i>hate</i> waking up early enough to eat a real breakfast on a school day. Especially in the Winter when my bed is so warm and the kitchen floor is <i>so cold</i>. So. For years, breakfast and I only really saw each other two days a week. And that's no way to treat something you <i>love.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
When I started living the basement-cubicle-life, I rekindled my romance with breakfast when I discovered my building cafeteria. Sure, it's powdered eggs and so-so pre-frozen sausage eaten in front of my computer screen. I mean nothing to write home about. But better than eating air, which is what I had been doing... Still, let's be honest, it was a poor substitute for a lover...<br />
<br />
So I decided I needed something better. For my health and for my sanity. But it had to be quick and portable. Something that didn't require a lot of logistics in the morning, could be prepared after only a partial cup of coffee (so no chopping!), and could be carried from bedroom to bathroom and back while I completed my morning routine. So, basically, it had to be a liquid. Which meant it had to be a smoothie.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, I have a <a href="http://www.ninjakitchen.com/">Ninja Kitchen System</a>. So I knew it would be a snap to get some nutrients into my body before 10 AM without <i>so</i> much burden that I quit trying after the first week. And spoiler alert: it really is super easy.<br />
<br />
I started paying closer attention to my dairy consumption a few months back, after a <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2014/03/tangy-turkey-meatballs.html">particularly brutal allergic reaction</a>. And I've always been leery of too much soy. So my first objective was to hunt down an egg-based protein powder. Surprisingly, GNC didn't have anything of note. So I grabbed <a href="http://www.jayrobb.com/protein/egg-white-protein-vanilla.asp">this one</a> at my local Whole Foods. I bought the smallest bag, in case it tasted like dirt, and was pleasantly surprised by how well it mixed up into the smoothies.<br />
<br />
My second objective was to ensure I got enough fat. Over the Winter I ate a lot of fruit and potato, probably in an effort to self-soothe during the cold dark months. So with the changing weather, I'm prioritizing high-quality protein and healthy fats to get my body back to being fully <a href="http://www.marksdailyapple.com/what-does-it-mean-to-be-fat-adapted/#axzz31LbH0GUV">fat-adapted</a> (Summertime bodies in the Summertime, and all that). The natural choice for a healthy-fat-laced liquid is coconut milk. But if you want your smoothie to mix well, you need to thin it out with water (or use a <a href="http://sodeliciousdairyfree.com/products/coconut-milk-beverages/unsweetened-vanilla">carton coconut milk</a> - but note: the carton kind is <i>not</i> Whole30 approved).<br />
<br />
Then I started looking around for fruit and vegetables to make the smoothie taste like <i>something</i> but preferably not salad. My first attempt had 1/2 a banana (13 g. carbohydrates for those of you counting along at home) and a huge handful of spinach. The banana masked the spinach and I was filled with vitality all week.<br />
<br />
My second version kept the 1/2 banana and added a 1/2 cup of raspberries. They're in season now so it seemed like a good option. The taste was great! At first, I left out the spinach because red + green = grayish brown and unappetizing. But there was no taste-based reason to skip out on the nutrients, so I added it back in.<br />
<br />
My third attempt doubled down on fat-adaptatation by removing the 1/2 banana and replacing it with 1/2 an avocado. It was super tasty, like a creamy guacamole, but almost impossible to drink through a straw. So before weeks-end, I was back to banana.<br />
<br />
After a few weeks of watching me post pictures of "baby UFO vomit" (thanks Terry) to my Facebook account, my little sister decided to jump on the smoothie train. LittleSister is allergic to banana so she had to be more creative. To date she's had great success with frozen blueberries, diced watermelon, and spinach. And when she runs out of fresh watermelon, she replaces it with shredded coconut (do I come from a brilliant family or what!?).<br />
<br />
And that's that.<br />
<br />
My abs are poppin', I have tons of energy, and the flavor combinations are basically endless. So, I can pretty-well see this basic formulation carrying me through the Summer.<br />
<br />
What are your favorite smoothie flavors?<br />
<br />
<h2>
Green Smoothie</h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh06WtuPVyqFk3dpsZIggM2WauwqNr7z0HwU-UJwosYJmG4xkHru0AVk3708PGsM5TPR5LIPxvUSakLpQSSoMr7VD8lUX3tntxcv_LiiHadixMDaLbCneD6YpZkNuYKIhHsDPGiZIEOc7g/s1600/Green+Smoothie.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh06WtuPVyqFk3dpsZIggM2WauwqNr7z0HwU-UJwosYJmG4xkHru0AVk3708PGsM5TPR5LIPxvUSakLpQSSoMr7VD8lUX3tntxcv_LiiHadixMDaLbCneD6YpZkNuYKIhHsDPGiZIEOc7g/s1600/Green+Smoothie.png" height="400" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes. That <i>is</i> an <a href="http://www.athleta.com/">Athleta</a> bag as background.<br />I'm an equal-opportunity shopper when it comes to expensive workout attire.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4>
Ingredients</h4>
<div>
4 ice cubes</div>
<div>
1 scoop egg white protein</div>
<div>
1 huge handful spinach</div>
<div>
1/2 cup canned coconut milk + 1/2 cup water</div>
<div>
OR 1 cup carton coconut milk + 2 tablespoons coconut butter (for the fat)</div>
<div>
Fruit of your choice (to the fill line)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
Instructions</h4>
<div>
Combine all ingredients in your blender (I use my <a href="http://www.ninjakitchen.com/nutri-ninja-cups/">Nutri Ninja</a> cups because less dishes). Enjoy.</div>
<div>
Makes 1 serving.</div>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-20234032237929708212014-05-08T19:44:00.001-04:002014-05-08T19:44:57.831-04:00Frying Pan Steak<span style="font-family: inherit;">I recently spent 24 hours in Omaha. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Although the weather is never beautiful (seriously, who actually wants to live there?), the food was wonderful and overall it was a very successful trip. Not least of which because I read a thought/action provoking book on my flight out. I only made it through the first half (so expect more to come) but I am already in deep.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I like to use my travel time for things that I cannot do otherwise. Sometimes it is gloriously-ridiculous little things like napping with a cup of coffee in my hand (the fact that I have never spilled is proof I have a vigilant guardian angel). Sometimes it is more important things like education and self-reflection. Sitting quietly among strangers engulfed in white noise is like a deprivation chamber (or more accurately like the long hours I've spent in the pool swimming lap after lap, alone with my thoughts) providing the space and time to puzzle through my life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Last December, I used the cumulative 18 hours out and back to Honolulu to process the entirety of my relationship with CaveBoy. Beginning. Middle. And end. And I spent a few hours on a recent flight home from Texas mulling over a particularly sticky friendship situation. Taking that time allowed me to give the right response (understanding) instead of my instinctive first response (fuck.off.) and my friendship is better for it (mostly in that it still exists).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">On the Texas trip I also read <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Art-Doing-Superachievers-What/dp/0452298172">a book about high achievers</a> and how they accomplish so much more than everyone else on Earth. I haven't had a ton of time for professional development (I've instead been in fake-it-til-you-make-it mode, crashing down my mentors' doors when things got to be too much) so I was interested in what this book could offer. Unfortunately it wasn't as insightful as it could have been - the authors seemed to have rushed their theme development - but I did take away a few useful nuggets.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I was hopeful but skeptical when I opened my next book. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Desire-Map-Guide-Creating-Goals-ebook/dp/B00H7MKSRY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1399239801&sr=8-1&keywords=the+desire+map">This one was about goal setting</a>. But in a new way. Instead of developing actionable, measurable goals with deadlines (that then become yet another to do list), this book asks you to first determine how you want to feel and then set goals that will accomplish the desired feeling. I cannot wait to apply this strategy at work and at play! I told you, I am only halfway into it but I am <i>into</i> it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">That probably is surprising for anyone who has ever found themselves in my basement cubicle. I am highly critical when my colleagues "bring their feelings to work." But what I mean by that is they take things personally. I find that most work-based disagreements aren't personal. And the sooner people realize that and stop indulging their bruised egos, the sooner we can find a solution. And I am <i>all about</i> moving quickly to a solution.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The truth is, I bring all my feelings to work. Without that constant gut-check, how would I know if I am doing the right things? Without my empathy and humility, how could I build a productive team? Without my passionate excitement how could I find creative solutions to hard problems? How could I know who to trust? Or when it is time for me to leave?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Answering that last question is really why the Omaha trip was so successful (and the food, of course the food). I've been getting a ton of attention for some of my projects and people have started to ask what I am going to do next. And not just people people but important people with name plates on their office doors. And I started to panic that I should be working on setting up The Next Thing. But after some reflection it became clear that I still have a ton of passionate excitement for where those projects are going, and a few ideas for <i>new</i> projects to similarly birth in my basement cubicle. Which means there is no need to move on just yet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I celebrated this realization with a <a href="http://www.noshwine.com/">bacon garnished bloody Mary</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7x-vWXI0G5_clafn55zOFoukDbHibwsz9JMlBufzdZ9lB6kytQlPFmufXqZpE2lQuh-XkSmfqNPSuDbYokGxxrmtvD991H15Qy3ENlMtZijthApxw5IvyCTL_DheObJ55nS3aIXBQI5E/s1600/Bacon+Bloody+M.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7x-vWXI0G5_clafn55zOFoukDbHibwsz9JMlBufzdZ9lB6kytQlPFmufXqZpE2lQuh-XkSmfqNPSuDbYokGxxrmtvD991H15Qy3ENlMtZijthApxw5IvyCTL_DheObJ55nS3aIXBQI5E/s1600/Bacon+Bloody+M.png" height="400" width="203" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey! I arrived on a Sunday within reasonable<br />
brunch hours. This was totally legit.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And followed it up with a <a href="http://www.upstreambrewing.com/">ribeye as big as my head</a> once my partner arrived.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxpiRMUA6M9UNPXQX8Us2i-pmt4iLtE97mBGeRjra_GaxQqoQhcXGbVA-saL9OmuQDcwMS5OAEHkTx597NA7X4S0EaK4v2A6Sl3JT8tKerpdf3dqJnSXdszjfqvaLQMRbqRrsCIWgF054/s1600/Omaha+Ribeye.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxpiRMUA6M9UNPXQX8Us2i-pmt4iLtE97mBGeRjra_GaxQqoQhcXGbVA-saL9OmuQDcwMS5OAEHkTx597NA7X4S0EaK4v2A6Sl3JT8tKerpdf3dqJnSXdszjfqvaLQMRbqRrsCIWgF054/s1600/Omaha+Ribeye.png" height="325" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beer for scale.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Both were delicious, but not enough to overcome the horrible weather (still <i>never-ever</i> going to live there). And still not as good as my <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/08/bloody-mary-mix.html">homemade bloody Marys</a> (although I will add a bacon twist to my garnish bar) or Kia's Frying Pan Steaks. </span><br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<br /></div>
<h2>
Frying Pan Steaks</h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS1yTBLe6TNCtfUeD1uYRr5g6bomeDPDytb2dSnsHF9BcdGhgdXf_jvJLZQu6ER8NllRsMUEmE9ZEZFTo_BS073HA7xmhNhDgcUe-8JqSnWWmJc6KFLvJo7DXJeAfwq5ko4Nddwnmk7PQ/s1600/Frying+Pan+Steak.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS1yTBLe6TNCtfUeD1uYRr5g6bomeDPDytb2dSnsHF9BcdGhgdXf_jvJLZQu6ER8NllRsMUEmE9ZEZFTo_BS073HA7xmhNhDgcUe-8JqSnWWmJc6KFLvJo7DXJeAfwq5ko4Nddwnmk7PQ/s1600/Frying+Pan+Steak.png" height="326" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you squint you can see it, buried under all that salad.<br />
And I was too hungry to remember to point the asparagus tops out - amateur move!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
Ingredients</h4>
<div>
1 steak per person (I prefer ribeyes)</div>
<div>
1 teaspoon olive oil per steak</div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.mccormick.com/Spices-and-Flavors/Grill-Mates/Seasoning-Blends/Grill-Mates-Montreal-Steak-Seasoning">Montreal Steak Seasoning</a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
Instructions</h4>
<div>
Coat steaks with olive oil and season with steak seasoning on both sides. Heat a frying pan over medium-high heat. Place steak into the hot pan. Sear both sides then cook until desired temperature. About 7 minutes per side for medium.</div>
Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-35789115277757776232014-05-04T13:47:00.000-04:002014-05-04T13:47:16.897-04:00Carrot FriesI learned this recipe on a recent trip to Texas. I had the wonderful-amazing-fantastic opportunity to travel back to Texas A&M for work. And because my management loves me (this quarter) they let me travel out early and spend the weekend with the Texas branch of my family. How cool is that?!<br />
<br />
I spent 3 1/2 years in Aggieland advancing my education. And although that was the second-shortest residency of my #32! years (after the year+ I lived in Europe), I've adopted Texas as my home state. I grew up in Michigan, but hardly have any roots left up there. I completed undergrad in a sleepy Florida beach town (I loved!) that recommends itself more as a retirement destination. And now I'm in my grown-up-got-a-job home (which automatically disqualifies it as a "home state.")<br />
<br />
Even without the process of elimination, Texas is amazing! The people are friendly, the sky is enormous, and it is home to a large percentage of my favorite people on Earth. I was so excited to go, I woke up at 3:15 on the morning of my flight!<br />
<br />
My oldest brother Dave lives near Texas A&M and welcomed me back to Aggieland with a weekend full of delicious food and quality time with family. Dave picked me up at the airport and conveyed me directly to <a href="http://freebirds.com/">Freebirds</a> (<i>so much better</i> than Chipotle). There we discussed our plans for the weekend and then headed to his house.<br />
<br />
After we let our food settle for a little bit, it was time for an afternoon workout. Dave is a police officer and one of the strongest and fittest people I know. My sister-in-law Nicki is practically paleo, and both my nephews play multiple sports (including football - of course). So unlike most work trips, I knew I wouldn't struggle to keep up with my fitness.<br />
<br />
Dave programmed a high rep <a href="http://www.schwarzenegger.com/fitness/post/metcon-the-greatest-weight-loss-exercise-in-the-history-of-gravity">metcon</a> followed by a combatives circuit. We pushed through lunges, planks, crunches, etc, rested a few minutes and then Dave set up two punching bags in the driveway. We did three rounds of kicks, punches with a follow-up half SPEAR, and a run. The runner set the time. By the middle of the second round, my knuckles were bruised and swelling (I go hard!) and I had to switch to palm strikes. During the third round I switched to a full SPEAR (got to keep <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yQoi2uyGMu0">converting that flinch</a>!).<br />
<br />
On our cool down jog, Dave and I discussed <a href="http://pdrteam.com/">personal defense readiness</a> and my experiences this year coaching seminars around the city. I described a time last summer where I had to improvise my escape from an attacker who was sitting on my chest and throwing punches - because it came up in a Q&A and I hadn't practiced the scenario with my training partner. It was meant to be an explanation for how great the PDR system is - the fact that I was able to escape easily with no prior practice makes it more likely that I will survive a real attack.<br />
<br />
My brother, ever my protector, instead took it as a sign that I needed more training (and he's right - training never stops). So we spent the next hour on the garage floor working through escapes with an attacker choking me, punching me, and otherwise trying to kill me. I was bruised and battered in the end. But <i>that much</i> safer for the effort. I told you! These are my favorite people!<br />
<br />
By the time we were cleaned up, Nicki was home from work, and it was time to start the weekend. Which meant it was time to <i>eat</i>.<br />
<br />
Texas is far and away one of the easiest places to keep up with a CaveGirl diet. The cuisine is meat-centered in the best way possible. And I enjoyed every bite of it.<br />
<br />
We started the weekend with carnitas and skinny margaritas at <a href="http://www.casarod.com/">Casa Rod</a>.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWr8So-DRimN7yRCleWgVxk2L-Lhedp7fuN8g14NtVu1Ru0sAsBBMvkWpXe_3CpznYUTSiQskouZgyOciXqebrCG_yVSVKNroXVtHzgM6h9qCiNhwujGVzk-eSHPyyewh9UUyq9BsoC9Y/s1600/CasaRod.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWr8So-DRimN7yRCleWgVxk2L-Lhedp7fuN8g14NtVu1Ru0sAsBBMvkWpXe_3CpznYUTSiQskouZgyOciXqebrCG_yVSVKNroXVtHzgM6h9qCiNhwujGVzk-eSHPyyewh9UUyq9BsoC9Y/s1600/CasaRod.png" height="307" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Styrofoam cup for scale.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Then on Saturday, Dave's good friends hosted a crawfish boil.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrs0TrTCNN8XAqsQBgN-JBAdFawaUcpwa0FO8fZKHgjxNZtkyXGc4gDkpbJlu2MQ7pgfg6Dy0MJZA-aZlJM-wrzq0t2HaRS-X1cBGkw7sX1G7wn4n381OWgpdW4W7l2f6es9_-Zt6SFAA/s1600/Crawfish+battle.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrs0TrTCNN8XAqsQBgN-JBAdFawaUcpwa0FO8fZKHgjxNZtkyXGc4gDkpbJlu2MQ7pgfg6Dy0MJZA-aZlJM-wrzq0t2HaRS-X1cBGkw7sX1G7wn4n381OWgpdW4W7l2f6es9_-Zt6SFAA/s1600/Crawfish+battle.png" height="268" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre-boil crawfish battle. Entertainment for all ages.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PKCeFmVq9mD1gL5ELIcpAxba1zmkzISkwI_zpkIpBd2lKzKxd0Jmw8GaqAasUN1buoqUFI66vj7EmdxHhJWmLI6BCVKdrGkuNcA2T6DdDd4W3k_SimO9uPg8tRQ8L-HKya902njdZj4/s1600/Crawfish++Boil.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PKCeFmVq9mD1gL5ELIcpAxba1zmkzISkwI_zpkIpBd2lKzKxd0Jmw8GaqAasUN1buoqUFI66vj7EmdxHhJWmLI6BCVKdrGkuNcA2T6DdDd4W3k_SimO9uPg8tRQ8L-HKya902njdZj4/s1600/Crawfish++Boil.png" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first pour. Soooooo delicious!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And before I left town, I ordered the biggest pile of BBQ I could find.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpUjtPsi_0suRhiQBhhtCF5RoEVvQgcWxBowuF0cSI9QwrtOHFhb_AJkNgOwKaOi3bAqiEdQVaSFtrF1m7VGbrOj8CU9kV-yhj0J393JpaCUC9rkZcjqHUdt5fgLM-Gc_PYGySakti04/s1600/Texas+BBQ.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpUjtPsi_0suRhiQBhhtCF5RoEVvQgcWxBowuF0cSI9QwrtOHFhb_AJkNgOwKaOi3bAqiEdQVaSFtrF1m7VGbrOj8CU9kV-yhj0J393JpaCUC9rkZcjqHUdt5fgLM-Gc_PYGySakti04/s1600/Texas+BBQ.png" height="251" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The other passengers are lucky I didn't stuff a second helping into my carry-on!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The only so-so meal I had the whole 5 days was a gross salad from McDonalds during a quick break from work. But it was still a better choice than the free pizza my employer provided...<br />
<br />
AND! On the second trip to Casa Rod (I love that place, what can I say?) the waitress checked my ID and said, "wow! you look so super young!" #32!<br />
<br />
But don't let the restaurant pics fool you! We didn't eat out for every meal. Nicki is an excellent cook, and Dave is a master on the grill. So I also ate a ton of delicious CaveSafe foods at their house, including Nicki's carrot fries. It makes so much sense I can't believe I didn't think of it myself! This recipe is a combo of what I learned from Nicki and suggestions my brilliant friend Aurelia made when I described it to her (aka a masterpiece).<br />
<br />
<h2>
Carrot Fries</h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbDKIG4sP3QnnzET11t6UiSEhstW3QVYT2IJePQN6KBGUJi5nsQQiPjRqYsi46ZEkrKelbKUn3uxUuP2uK-a_5WPYdgZ5x1oZ5_ATmzMQHa0saG9C0Vv42RMnQksOWWltaR5DNB7-DyfU/s1600/Carrot+Fries.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbDKIG4sP3QnnzET11t6UiSEhstW3QVYT2IJePQN6KBGUJi5nsQQiPjRqYsi46ZEkrKelbKUn3uxUuP2uK-a_5WPYdgZ5x1oZ5_ATmzMQHa0saG9C0Vv42RMnQksOWWltaR5DNB7-DyfU/s1600/Carrot+Fries.png" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why, yes. That <i>is </i>a kale and bacon egg yolk scramble. Thank you for noticing!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4>
Ingredients</h4>
<div>
1 lb carrots</div>
<div>
1 egg white (or 1 tablespoon olive oil for vegan option)</div>
<div>
2 teaspoons seasoning of choice</div>
<div>
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar</div>
<div>
Coconut oil spray</div>
<div>
Salt</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
Instructions</h4>
<div>
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Wash the carrots but do not peel them (it's annoying and besides <a href="http://groovygreenlivin.com/5-vegetables-that-you-don%E2%80%99t-need-to-peel/">most of the nutrients are in or just below the skin</a>). Then cut them into thin fries.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In a large bowl, whisk egg white until it becomes frothy then stir in vinegar and 1 teaspoon seasoning (Nicki used cayenne pepper, I prefer BBQ seasoning, whatever floats your boat). Toss carrot fries in egg white mixture until they are evenly coated. Spray a large baking sheet with coconut oil. Arrange fries in an even layer. Sprinkle remaining seasoning over top. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Bake at 400 degrees for 15 minutes. Turn carrot fries and return to oven for another 15 minutes. Turn fries and return to oven until they reach desired doneness and crispiness (I put mine back in for 10 minutes and called good enough good enough). Makes 2 servings.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-38626665599806636302014-04-06T22:22:00.000-04:002014-04-06T22:22:12.484-04:00Sausage and SauerkrautI've been MIA. I know. And I don't have anything to say for myself.<br />
<br />
That's a lie...<br />
<br />
I started my SillyLittle blog as a creative outlet. A place to share what I've been cookin' and describe the mostly-harmless-and-often-truly-boring "adventures" I made for myself in and out of the CrossFit box. I had my pleasant little life. And I was happy enough. And everything was going along the way it is <i>supposed</i> to go along. And I convinced myself that it was everything I could hope for and more than I deserved.<br />
<br />
But when it all came to a halt - and every plan I'd made from now until next forever instantly disappeared - I was shocked to realize that I didn't miss a single one of those lost plans. Not. One.<br />
<br />
I had spent the better part of a decade concealing my potential, containing my spirit, convincing myself that I was less than, that I was simple, that I was scared of this big world. That I preferred my tidy, neat routine. That I was OK being city-stuck and working hard and playing little. And my future plans were a reflection of that false life.<br />
<br />
(And maybe that's the risk of being truly happy, from the inside. Unless you take the time to consider your life, you'll go along as if what you're doing is actually living. Because you don't have any of the sadness or disappointment that would normally force you to reevaluate your existence... And I was - and still am - truly happy.)<br />
<br />
So instead it took losing my entire future in one swift swoop to force me to do the work that needed to be done. To reach way way back and way down deep to find the girl I was before I had to hide the girl I am. It took me a little while to find her. But I did.<br />
<br />
And you know what?<br />
<br />
I love that silly little girl. I'm in awe of the girl who refused to apply for college and moved to Europe at 18 (on a whim and a prayer) to live with a family she'd never met and care for three children under age 5 who spoke no English. I adore the girl who delayed graduation to work in the space program. Who walked away from a PhD, over the violent objections of her father. Who followed her true calling and landed her dream job - even though it ultimately led to the demise of her marriage.<br />
<br />
That girl is brave! And decisive. And would never <i>ever</i> settle for a tidy little routine life.<br />
<br />
So now that I've rediscovered the SillyLittleCaveGirl that always was and should have been, I'm expending <i>all</i> of my energy building a new (infinitely better) life and making new (sometimes terrifying) plans. And it has been a ton of (beautiful) work. And it has required every ounce of my creativity and every molecule of my courage. And I'm nowhere near done yet.<br />
<br />
In fact. I don't think I'll ever be done.<br />
<br />
So what does that mean for SillyLittleCaveGirl the blog? First. It means I'm back, but in a new way. You'll probably notice that I don't really spend <i>that much</i> time in the kitchen anymore. This post should be your case in point. But I promise I haven't gone soft on nutrition. I'm still a CaveGirl through and through. I'm just expending my <i>creative</i> energy elsewhere.<br />
<br />
So expect to see a few more plugs for other paleo websites. But I also promise to fortify you with all-new content from brilliant guest bloggers. And even from me when the spirit moves. And <i>of course</i> I will continue to share silly stories about my hopefully-much-less-boring-and-no-longer-in-quotation-marks adventures. It should be interesting - to me least - and equally delicious.<br />
<br />
Thanks for sticking with me! And please enjoy the simplest recipe you've ever made:<br />
<br />
<h2>
Sausage and Sauerkraut</h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzZniyUOwiYwNa5lBciMzp3uxFojyhVyulkpcXgFRwGrGilPjW5jnYa0ekV3gAxsl7uOi_ft_uA9NytOEvlbiNrCa68lAxqfoBO51KiSg5WgQnzw4BZubX4pTsJwQ9D1PiQ4WQSrrL04o/s1600/sausage+and+kraut.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzZniyUOwiYwNa5lBciMzp3uxFojyhVyulkpcXgFRwGrGilPjW5jnYa0ekV3gAxsl7uOi_ft_uA9NytOEvlbiNrCa68lAxqfoBO51KiSg5WgQnzw4BZubX4pTsJwQ9D1PiQ4WQSrrL04o/s1600/sausage+and+kraut.png" height="212" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not the prettiest picture I've ever taken. But then again, not the worst.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<h4>
Ingredients</h4>
<div>
German sausage or bratwurst</div>
<div>
Sauerkraut</div>
<div>
German mustard</div>
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<h4>
Instructions</h4>
<div>
This thing is so simple it <i>totally</i> doesn't count as a recipe. But it tastes amazing and is sure to please a crowd. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Strain the sauerkraut and spread it in an even layer in a baking dish. Lay the raw sausages on top. Bake at 400 degrees until the sausages are fully cooked. About 20 minutes. Makes as many servings as you make sausages. Enjoy!</div>
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Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-11186918683519119512014-03-09T20:57:00.002-04:002014-03-09T21:19:16.321-04:00Tangy Turkey MeatballsI had the kind of week that proves The Universe has a sense of humor.<br />
<br />
I knew something had to be coming because last Friday was almost <i>too</i> good. And you can't sit at a peak-of-life forever.<br />
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I've been working on a project that has the potential to change the course of my career. It's my baby. I carried the idea inside me for months and struggled through a long and painful labor to get it into the world. And now that it's here and has had time to mature, it's exceeding my expectations, and I couldn't me more proud.<br />
<br />
But back to Friday.<br />
<br />
Last Friday, I left work drunk-with-joy over Baby achieving its next major milestone (we're way past first steps now, more like taking the training wheels off Baby's bicycle). I transitioned quickly from work to play and met a few of my #1 Loves from grad school at a concert. Shortly after arriving, I added drunk-with-alcohol to my joy and carried my bliss through the night. The concert was great. The company was as-always-amazing. And the night ended unexpectedly late after an over-the-top good time.<br />
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See what I mean? Peak-of-life.<br />
<br />
Then. This week. I was knocked out hard by an allergic reaction. I've cried to you before about my <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/01/what-i-learned-in-2012.html">weird list of allergies</a> and<a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/11/cavelife-paleo-skin-care-faces.html"> annoyingly sensitive skin</a>. But this time was bad! Emergency-appointment-at-the-dermatologist-skin-biopsy-two-stitches-blood-work bad. Thankfully my dermatologist is Grade A and she hooked me up with some aggressive medicine. And double-thankfully it was just an allergic reaction and not something much more serious (that blood work was well worth the lab fees!).<br />
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But it still took me all week to get myself under control. And it's not like I could hang out at home and suffer in peace. That basement cubicle isn't going to sit in itself!<br />
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And that is where The Universe and its devilish sense of humor comes in... Last week, Baby started doing even better than great: popping wheelies and riding with no hands (wearing a helmet, of course). I'm starting to gain the respect of people I thought would forever see me as That Little Girl. And a few long-suffering science projects are proving they were worth the effort. Basically, all the work is still working at work. And not only is it working, it's thriving and changing (my little) world.<br />
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I see what you did there, Universe. Thanks for keeping me humble!<br />
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There's no easy way to transition into describing this recipe. So I'll just plough forward. Turkey and sweet potatoes were a special request by <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/04/silly-little-lunchclub.html">TDH</a> for this week's lunches. And because I think turkey tastes best when it tastes like Thanksgiving, I thought this would be a delicious twist. As always, I was right (that humility didn't last long, did it?). Enjoy!<br />
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<h2>
Tangy Turkey Meatballs</h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfZvz8KJ6EWzo76CwdzFBCLpFnOEdDrbXsutSriJtG26i97ElKrebzilbujKJ3iZxE8Dw_EwpDEpOogcOkmOLCEusLhL6qGNIRTfz8l_fIL0oWMtgYAVcVtQvRa7faYAimxzZZzMlFg0/s1600/Tangy+Turkey+Meatballs.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfZvz8KJ6EWzo76CwdzFBCLpFnOEdDrbXsutSriJtG26i97ElKrebzilbujKJ3iZxE8Dw_EwpDEpOogcOkmOLCEusLhL6qGNIRTfz8l_fIL0oWMtgYAVcVtQvRa7faYAimxzZZzMlFg0/s1600/Tangy+Turkey+Meatballs.png" height="310" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I also served them with green beans, to get a little bit more nutrition into our lunch boxes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4>
Ingredients</h4>
<div>
2 lb ground turkey</div>
<div>
2 eggs</div>
<div>
3 celery stalks, diced</div>
<div>
2 garlic cloves, diced</div>
<div>
1 yellow onion, diced</div>
<div>
1/2 cup dried cranberries</div>
<div>
1 tablespoon herbs de provence</div>
<div>
1 tablespoon olive oil</div>
<div>
Salt and pepper</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
Instructions</h4>
<div>
Place a skillet over medium heat. Add olive oil and diced onion and celery. Season with salt and pepper. Sauté veggies over medium heat, stirring frequently, until they become soft and start to brown. Add garlic and continue sautéing until everything is caramelized (and your whole house smells amazing).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Meanwhile, run a knife through the dried cranberries to break them into about 25%-size pieces (this will help more evenly distribute the tang throughout the meatballs).</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Once the veggies are caramelized, add the cranberries and herbs de provence and mix until fully combined. Remove from heat and let cool so you don't scald yourself in the next step.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. In a large bowl, combine ground turkey, eggs, and cooled veggie mixture. Roll mixture into evenly-sized meatballs.* My rule of thumb is to take the amount of meat I can fit balled between my two hands and quarter it. Then roll that quartered amount into a ball and place it in the baking dish (does that make any sense? If not, just go with your gut). </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Bake meatballs at 400 degrees until fully cooked. Mine took about 20 minutes. Makes 8 servings.</div>
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<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*Note: This also would be delicious as a meatloaf if you're too lazy to roll it into meatballs.</span></div>
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Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-29600846854573675202014-02-22T16:54:00.000-05:002014-02-22T16:54:58.226-05:00Dark Chocolate Hazelnut BarsI spent last weekend with DrLindsey, my <a href="http://www.flemingtonchiropracticcenter.com/">primary care physician</a> / best friend / <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/09/guestblogger-grilled-flank-steak-with.html">paleo-supportive</a>-all-around-amazing-woman-to-know. We staged a mini-college reunion with another one of our good friends from back in the day. We drank a flood of cosmos (that's proof these are friends from waaaaayyy back), got all dolled up, ate amazing food, and laughed like lunatics.<br />
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Thankfully DrLindsey's husband was available to chaperone and shepherd our drunk-asses around town. We re-payed him by pretending he wasn't there during college-level girl-talk (good thing he knows us well, or he might <i>still</i> be in shock...).<br />
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It had been maybe 10 months since I last visited this crew. But we didn't skip a beat. Even though my new life is 180 degrees out of phase with DrLindsey's beautiful little family, I still mesh into their world as perfectly as ever. It's gratifying to know that our deep admiration for each other isn't situationally dependent. We've known each other since before we became the people we are today. We've loved each other like sisters through all the growing up that life requires. And we're still supporting each other 100% even though we're walking different paths.<br />
<br />
DrLindsey and her husband have my back as I try to figure out my new single-girl life. They check on me often and squash any insecurities before they have a chance to bubble all the way up to the surface. For my part, I'm sharing every ounce of the health and fitness information I've pulled together during these two-and-a-half wildly successful years. That's friendship!<br />
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After the cosmo-fueled night (that still ended early because we're old. #32!), we did a little shopping, got our eyebrows <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Threading_(epilation)">threaded</a> (just what I needed: a new beauty obsession to add on to <a href="http://www.cnd.com/salon-services/what-is-shellac">shellac</a>), and had a delicious family dinner with DrLindsey's parents, aunt, uncle, and sister. Lindsey's mom, ever the impeccable hostess, went easy on the grains in support of my lifestyle and served fillet with squash and pear soup. </div>
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That evening, we watched a little <a href="http://www.nickjr.com/dora-the-explorer/">Dora</a>, put the baby to bed, and started playing in the kitchen. DrLindsey was on the hunt for easy paleo snacks to pack for her long days at the office, so she asked if I'd work some of my SillyLittle magic in her kitchen. I love to play with recipes, so I was excited to see what I could do with the paleo-friendly ingredients she had on hand.</div>
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We created this Dark Chocolate Hazelnut Bar recipe on the fly. It's basically a two-step version of my <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/08/pecan-maple-bacon-bars.html">Pecan Bacon Maple Bars</a> with a little less fuss (because DrLindsey didn't have a food processor). I think I shocked my sous chefs by how spontaneous my process is in the kitchen. Don't have a food processor? Let's use the hazelnut meal! Ran out of baking powder? Baking soda will be fine! What's the worst that can happen? It's still delicious paleo food. Just eat it and try something different next time!</div>
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Luckily these bars turned out tasty. But they still were slightly-less-than-perfect. The bar wasn't quite sweet enough to stand up to the bitterness of the chocolate. So for this post I've doubled the honey and reduced the amount of chocolate. If you're a super-duper-chocolate-lover, by all means double it back up. It's your kitchen! </div>
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<h2>
Dark Chocolate Hazelnut Bars</h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSS1qL8Ag3FR-KymdbunQG4RZLJE7iXRd-fDS7XOl5wa99u4rtLx7OwYZonVAjzhIJ8TWxZ3WarIBvyYvjMuzQt3__2685vAO5kZj_a8QVDOEoxBmmOmaMQ1u5jdIkTu7uery5DLWa7uY/s1600/Dark+Chcolate+Hazelnut+Bar.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSS1qL8Ag3FR-KymdbunQG4RZLJE7iXRd-fDS7XOl5wa99u4rtLx7OwYZonVAjzhIJ8TWxZ3WarIBvyYvjMuzQt3__2685vAO5kZj_a8QVDOEoxBmmOmaMQ1u5jdIkTu7uery5DLWa7uY/s1600/Dark+Chcolate+Hazelnut+Bar.png" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That cell phone sure takes a pretty picture!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4>
Ingredients</h4>
<div>
1 egg, beaten</div>
<div>
1 cup hazelnut meal (we used <a href="http://www.bobsredmill.com/">Bob's Red Mill</a>)</div>
<div>
3/4 cup almond meal</div>
<div>
1/4 cup coconut oil</div>
<div>
2 tablespoons honey</div>
<div>
1 teaspoon vanilla</div>
<div>
1/2 teaspoon baking soda</div>
<div>
Pinch of salt</div>
<div>
Coconut oil spray</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
1/2 cup dark chocolate chips (we used <a href="http://www.enjoylifefoods.com/">Enjoy Life</a>)</div>
<div>
2 tablespoons coconut oil</div>
<div>
2 teaspoons vanilla</div>
<div>
Pinch of salt</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
Instructions</h4>
<div>
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Melt 1/4 cup coconut oil and honey together. In a medium bowl, mix together hazelnut meal, almond meal, baking soda, and salt. Add coconut oil-honey mixture, vanilla, and egg. Mix thoroughly to combine. Spray a loaf pan with coconut oil spray. Pour mixture into loaf pan and smooth into an even layer. Bake at 375 degrees until it passes the toothpick test. About 20 minutes. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
While the bars are baking, combine chocolate chips, 2 tablespoons coconut oil, vanilla, and pinch of salt in a small sauce pan. Place over low-to-medium heat. Stir continuously until the chocolate melts. Remove from heat and set aside.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Once the bars are baked, remove them from the oven and let cool for a few minutes so that the heat from the loaf pan doesn't burn your chocolate. Then spread the chocolate onto the bars in an even layer. Let cool to room temperature (so the chocolate firms up a bit). Cut into bars and enjoy. Makes 8 servings. </div>
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<br />Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-47074935802914627522014-02-17T21:21:00.001-05:002014-02-17T21:21:20.611-05:00Beet SoupThis Winter sure is trying to go out with a bang! Holy snowstorms!<br />
<br />
We only have 4 weeks left according to <a href="http://www.weather.com/news/groundhog-day-2014-phil-sees-his-shadow-signifying-6-more-weeks-winter-20140202">our buddy Phil</a>. And while I'm ready to give my Winter coat a break, I'm still enjoying all of the warm beverages, soups, and stews that taste so great in colder weather. I've been using my snowy days at home as the perfect excuse to let a pot of chili simmer all afternoon, and I've been collecting soup recipes from friends and family (that I will then repost here as if they were my own... Love you guys!).<br />
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The last week-or-so, I've also been on a beet kick.<br />
<br />
It all started when I baked <a href="http://gutsybynature.com/2013/09/30/naturally-red-velvet-cupcakes-nut-dairy-grain-free/">beet-based cupcakes</a> for my 32nd birthday party (#32!). Then I used the leftover beet purée as the sauce for a spinach and goat cheese gluten free pizza.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOwh1IiPSqyjQPeBDjSPslCbSc0I_EgF3vtQOjQLPe-SfxYk-rFAR-yIG4MUWf41xSyuTG6-_mQeP7bF31FhfhpWP97pTDOCEXxqKLjnDVt91pmVBPeFtYi7UbzckxcVuuufOnRt1kSrY/s1600/beet+pizza.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOwh1IiPSqyjQPeBDjSPslCbSc0I_EgF3vtQOjQLPe-SfxYk-rFAR-yIG4MUWf41xSyuTG6-_mQeP7bF31FhfhpWP97pTDOCEXxqKLjnDVt91pmVBPeFtYi7UbzckxcVuuufOnRt1kSrY/s1600/beet+pizza.png" height="302" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, that is bacon. No, goat cheese is not paleo.<br />Neither is GF pizza crust. Live your life!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Shortly thereafter my Ukrainian heritage kicked in and I started toying with the idea of a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borscht">beet soup</a>. I was sure I could make a creamy puréed soup, like my ever-popular <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/06/roasted-broccoli-soup.html">Roasted Broccoli</a> version. And I knew the beets would cook up well with typical soup-starters like onion and garlic. But I wanted to be sure it was slightly tangy to mimic the flavor profile of my pizza, without the added goat cheese. After a quick scan through what-passes-for-my-pantry I decided a splash of vinegar would do the trick (and beet salad is delicious, right? so it couldn't <i>totally</i> ruin the soup).</div>
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This recipe came together nicely and tasted even better than expected (which is really saying something. I have <i>very</i> high expectations for myself). It definitely tastes like beets, though. So if you're a beet-hater like my father, please skip along to the next post (sorry Dad!). If you're a beet-lover like me, then I definitely recommend it! How often do you get to eat pink food?! </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 24px; font-weight: bold;">Beet Soup</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWRMUXBU-QYcyWPu871Rx412_KIiGfwqC_JajzIWvlyCk5kl33lfvpruiNkz7sEQEIVTxbhFoG6jcNIzFu0TwDEHDBPErA8P8NH3Aas9uAeeLmej4S-YXsjZc35w_gywVag08e5DXmRww/s1600/Beet+Soup.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWRMUXBU-QYcyWPu871Rx412_KIiGfwqC_JajzIWvlyCk5kl33lfvpruiNkz7sEQEIVTxbhFoG6jcNIzFu0TwDEHDBPErA8P8NH3Aas9uAeeLmej4S-YXsjZc35w_gywVag08e5DXmRww/s1600/Beet+Soup.png" height="292" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pink Soup!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<h4>
Ingredients</h4>
<div>
3 medium beets, peeled and diced*</div>
<div>
1 large sweet onion, diced</div>
<div>
4 cloves garlic, minced</div>
<div>
2 cups beef stock</div>
<div>
2 cups cauliflower florets</div>
<div>
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar </div>
<div>
1 tablespoon olive oil</div>
<div>
1 bay leaf</div>
<div>
Salt and pepper</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
Instructions</h4>
<div>
Pour olive oil into a large pot and place over medium heat. Add diced onion and season with salt and pepper. Cook onion until it starts to brown. Add garlic and continue cooking until onions begin to caramelize (be careful not to burn the garlic). Add cauliflower florets and diced beets and toss together until the cauliflower turns pink. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Add beef stock and bay leaf. Season with a pinch of salt and a few shakes of pepper. Bring to a boil then reduce heat to a simmer. Cover and continue simmering until beets are tender. About 30 minutes. Remove from heat and let cool slightly so that you don't scald yourself on the next step.</div>
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Use your immersion blender to purée the soup until creamy (if you don't have an immersion blender, <i>carefully</i> pour the soup into your standard blender and purée until smooth). Return the soup to medium heat. Add balsamic vinegar and re-season with salt and pepper to taste. Stir continuously until it just starts to boil. Remove from heat. Makes 6 servings.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*Pro Tip: Peel and dice your beets in the sink. Literally. I cleaned the sink and then put the cutting board in it to work. Otherwise, your kitchen will look like you massacred a herd of My Little Ponies.</span></div>
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Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-21489894070731120652014-02-13T14:18:00.000-05:002014-02-13T15:33:51.530-05:00Baked Corned Beef HashIt's been a while since I l<a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/11/cavelife-spiralizer-review.html">ast explana-bragged</a> about the sweat gear in my Silly Little Kitchen. So I figured it's about that time... This post is also quite timely because last weekend was <i>huge</i> for my <a href="http://www.ninjakitchen.com/products/ninja-mega-kitchen-system-bl770/cpc/ogxatst/tr1/?utm_expid=30928647-21.FNSKrlu6SdOwmriXIP7iXw.1&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=10acontrolredir&utm_referrer=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.google.com%2Faclk%3Fsa%3Dl%26ai%3DC0Y6BMwT9UtbuJsj76QHKloDIBLma79AE4Z381oMB0dXHqMYBCAAQASC5VCgDUNi2jt4FYMmmmY3spIAQoAG_ipXbA8gBAaoEKk_QEnuHrK52Q9m2j4bksod5WGgS4oZIE9F85DpAV67bNxrO82sbRvo7d4AFkE6AB6n16iSQBwE%26sig%3DAOD64_2Kfpxyrl_wlhcXZx2UkI25pIa4Zg%26ved%3D0CCgQ0Qw%26adurl%3Dhttp%3A%2F%2Fwww.ninjakitchen.com%2Fproducts%2Fninja-mega-kitchen-system-bl770%2Fcpc%2Fogxa%2F%253Futm_source%253Dgoogle%2526utm_medium%253Dcpc%2526utm_campaign%253DBL770Offer10a2995vsFSH%2526utm_term%253Dwww%252520%25252Bninja%252520%25252Bkitchen%252520%25252Bsystem%2526utm_content%253Dcontrol%26rct%3Dj%26q%3Dninja%2520mega%2520kitchen%2520system">Ninja Mega Kitchen System</a>.<br />
<br />
Yes there is a cult-of-the-Ninja. And you can hate if you want to. But I <i>totally</i> get it. My new Ninja was delivered only a few hours before CaveBoy <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2014/01/what-i-learned-in-2013.html">moved out</a>, so it (literally) sat on the shelf for a few months before I was motivated to get back in the kitchen and fully test its oft-praised features. Now I only regret waiting so long!<br />
<br />
I had been coveting the Ninja for months because (spoiler alert) advertising works on me. And I wake up early on the weekends. And there is almost nothing to watch on TV but infomercials. And the end.<br />
<br />
So after the third or fourth running, I finally decided I really did <i>need </i>a Ninja Mega Kitchen System. Not for me. But for all of you! Think of how many new and wonderful recipes I could create with such a tool at my disposal. So really this is all <i>your</i> fault!<br />
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I went online to place my order.<br />
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But wait! I "called" within the next 10 minutes, and the wonderful people at Ninja threw in a <a href="http://www.ninjakitchen.com/mega-kitchen-system/parts.html">Ninja Mega Professional Prep System</a> <i>at no additional charge</i>! And on top of that (for being so cute, I assume) they also gave me a Frozen Treat Accessory Kit. ChaChing!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEise58PG1eMEjyjAn8TwYT7TH7rg3vhcfA1gKro595kgeXd576d18t8CGrwgiI9ci8bs5FAQl02bbMjbpWtRYZhmgBpW4rR2LO1_T1gdZANBzJvEP7Q-AfPKm_BP4FEkkF5uQgYpR-Dhms/s1600/Ninja.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEise58PG1eMEjyjAn8TwYT7TH7rg3vhcfA1gKro595kgeXd576d18t8CGrwgiI9ci8bs5FAQl02bbMjbpWtRYZhmgBpW4rR2LO1_T1gdZANBzJvEP7Q-AfPKm_BP4FEkkF5uQgYpR-Dhms/s1600/Ninja.png" height="280" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet deal, right?</td></tr>
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So. Fast forward to last weekend.<br />
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A dozen of my favorite girls came over to celebrate my 32 years on Earth. The group was an amazing mash-up of my awesome worlds. The Fierce Ladies from the office came out in force, along with the CrossFit Beauties, and one of my #1 Loves from grad school. </div>
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We drank (quite a few) margaritas and a few bottles of wine. I force-fed everyone shots of <a href="http://www.fireballwhisky.com/index.cfm">Fireball Whisky</a> (whatever. it tastes like Valentine's Day). And then we went out and danced like crazy at the local 22-year-old-meat-market-that-passes-for-a-Club (they have a video DJ!).</div>
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But before that, we had cupcakes. Paleo <a href="http://gutsybynature.com/2013/09/30/naturally-red-velvet-cupcakes-nut-dairy-grain-free/">Naturally Red Velvet Cupcakes</a> made almost entirely out of roasted beets (like I said, these are <i>good</i> <i>friends</i>, people). And I used my Ninja food processor to puree the beets, mix the wet ingredients, pulse in the combo-flour, and otherwise rock the recipe in no time flat. And they tasted pretty good, too!</div>
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And then. The next day. After I had semi-partially recovered from my hangover (I'm getting too old to have any more birthdays), I got to work on Ninja experiment number two: Baked Corned Beef Hash. </div>
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I'm a hash fan. I often keep freezer-bagged portions of sweet potato hash on hand to easily turn Saturday morning breakfast into something special. It's particularly great with the yolks of a couple "dippy" eggs oozing through the shredded veggies (my mouth is watering). And with Saint Patrick's Day coming, Whole Foods has corned beef back in stock. </div>
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With my Professional Prep System (and it's shredder attachment), I was able to pull this recipe together with minimal effort and get back to convalescing on the couch. The flavor was amazing and exactly what I needed to make a full recovery! Enjoy.</div>
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<h2>
Baked Corned Beef Hash</h2>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGr_iMqp84LPrpsBmN8mDHQjHc_PLnvTDeOHF0rAbYmv2MxO3UGqTF2md90w2tEvFS6R0nq3Pe1LOFIDQPq2sZCVxn9ITvzTGAHGoIpLllbv8TuYHpc5uzGfmX17GRywNnGYnhS2JkiY/s1600/Corned+Beef+Hash.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGr_iMqp84LPrpsBmN8mDHQjHc_PLnvTDeOHF0rAbYmv2MxO3UGqTF2md90w2tEvFS6R0nq3Pe1LOFIDQPq2sZCVxn9ITvzTGAHGoIpLllbv8TuYHpc5uzGfmX17GRywNnGYnhS2JkiY/s1600/Corned+Beef+Hash.png" height="316" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kdz3rHmQbsw">EXTREME CLOSE UP!</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4>
Ingredients</h4>
<div>
1.5 lbs corned beef</div>
<div>
2 pink lady apples, shredded</div>
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1 large sweet potato, shredded (seriously, get the biggest sweet potato you've ever seen, or two medium)</div>
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1 large yellow onion, diced</div>
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1 tablespoon olive oil</div>
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Salt and pepper</div>
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Instructions</h4>
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Cook the corned beef according to the package instructions (I put mine in the Crock-Pot because I didn't feel up to babysitting a simmering stock pot). Then set aside to cool.</div>
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Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Combine shredded/diced veggies and olive oil in a baking dish. Season liberally with salt and pepper. Place baking dish in oven. Cook until sweet potato shreds are softened, but not mushy. About 1 hr 20 minutes. Be careful not to let the bottom burn! I pulled mine out every 20 minutes to stir. </div>
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Shred corned beef* and combine with cooked sweet potato mixture. Re-season with salt and pepper to taste.** Makes 5 servings.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*Note: CB recommends that you cube the corned beef into chunks instead of shredding it, so that it isn't all the same texture. I think she's probably on to something...</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">**Note: Yes. That's it. I told you it was hangover-proof. </span></div>
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Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-92120176793254541722014-01-30T22:33:00.001-05:002014-02-13T15:37:12.553-05:00CaveLife: Planning Your Paleo Super Bowl PartyOver the past year and a half, I've posted quite a few appetizers, dips, salads, and treats. So I thought I'd pull the best-of-the-best together in one place and let your eyes help you decide what to share with your friends on Sunday.<br />
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You're welcome.</div>
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<h2>
Appetizers</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAiuFEB0VFVdlIFE5acYGDcFMVsAiYWN6Mn4S5Dh8sJX0YgBO8R-qyaXElv7GwOIZqXvWgZDixgVBgFuAjciQWXArqP_ANmnmI-aXtPy2jjagIrxVni9NODpIqZPlxJ6Eg9nI7Zz0h1U/s1600/peppers.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAiuFEB0VFVdlIFE5acYGDcFMVsAiYWN6Mn4S5Dh8sJX0YgBO8R-qyaXElv7GwOIZqXvWgZDixgVBgFuAjciQWXArqP_ANmnmI-aXtPy2jjagIrxVni9NODpIqZPlxJ6Eg9nI7Zz0h1U/s1600/peppers.png" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/01/pork-stuffed-pepperoncini.html">Pork Stuffed Pepperoncini</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfNHYRdl5OWWKMDqn06mqMEyqvHfHPnSMNucWGx4okTX5aDWIs5f0kSEM3wevEF-_QMPbeuto-0VYJtB-PxutQ6pJdOIPFxrmiLrfzm2WhG7411mYgIVa9BjNVUG07LPEZToDnM2wHCw/s1600/Italian+Wings.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfNHYRdl5OWWKMDqn06mqMEyqvHfHPnSMNucWGx4okTX5aDWIs5f0kSEM3wevEF-_QMPbeuto-0VYJtB-PxutQ6pJdOIPFxrmiLrfzm2WhG7411mYgIVa9BjNVUG07LPEZToDnM2wHCw/s1600/Italian+Wings.png" height="353" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/07/herb-garlic-chicken-wings.html">Herb Garlic Chicken Wings</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlArtAIloLMJER9SgKhu0i209SXyVi0U1lPEq7XiBaL0EJooQ-A5i08KmXv8w48KdojT2InAYfo75vf4HG7RolfCbYXZkg44O1GD9RVKDsb3H7jv4esDCcz8PmNix5kABZCTFgaldOvOY/s1600/Bacon+Wrapped+Dates.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlArtAIloLMJER9SgKhu0i209SXyVi0U1lPEq7XiBaL0EJooQ-A5i08KmXv8w48KdojT2InAYfo75vf4HG7RolfCbYXZkg44O1GD9RVKDsb3H7jv4esDCcz8PmNix5kABZCTFgaldOvOY/s1600/Bacon+Wrapped+Dates.png" height="307" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/07/bacon-wrapped-chorizo-stuffed-dates.html">Bacon Wrapped Chorizo Stuffed Dates</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDEPKrcgV28xJSBF7IfAgx0-4XYpPZcgCdXjhOC4i3KrFE8tECYjRP68vz_cxqm5z0l_Sf6EXcjcEFg8A02D2mcfDKxP_BdMRLVwJC3xwxfoPD70gK2p-RW-riWSdg6j0C7rXalwJZSk/s1600/Jalapeno+Poppers.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDEPKrcgV28xJSBF7IfAgx0-4XYpPZcgCdXjhOC4i3KrFE8tECYjRP68vz_cxqm5z0l_Sf6EXcjcEFg8A02D2mcfDKxP_BdMRLVwJC3xwxfoPD70gK2p-RW-riWSdg6j0C7rXalwJZSk/s1600/Jalapeno+Poppers.png" height="295" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2014/01/jalapeno-poppers-avocado-ranch.html">Jalapeño Poppers</a></div>
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<h2>
Dips</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-rl2Jeg6xeeXfYOa15KoMU9Bj0P4FBP8hPdQX8Rq2q7V8fBuFtgSPMfBtH1zfIfONZcFhtuyp6g6_txNvDhwJnTQov_H6LyTYJXFogk16j_11KeJ61dvPBDrNboVUl9P_7BoDt_Dnog/s1600/Curry+Chicken+Salad.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-rl2Jeg6xeeXfYOa15KoMU9Bj0P4FBP8hPdQX8Rq2q7V8fBuFtgSPMfBtH1zfIfONZcFhtuyp6g6_txNvDhwJnTQov_H6LyTYJXFogk16j_11KeJ61dvPBDrNboVUl9P_7BoDt_Dnog/s1600/Curry+Chicken+Salad.png" height="279" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/05/toasted-coconut-curry-chicken-salad.html">Toasted Coconut Curry Chicken Salad</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRNttXRbmXXhZ5D0D3utUibDmwJL8ID3eumqrjDtu4ZltWlZR0qtdEImNVPZFCdVg24izJZMbKN2FVwCxCXGWMp2rSu-TvyT0hU1RwKk0YCarkwo2f4MUGaqdy6zuHyd9SKEiV6tHOgvY/s1600/Buffalo+Chicken+Salad.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRNttXRbmXXhZ5D0D3utUibDmwJL8ID3eumqrjDtu4ZltWlZR0qtdEImNVPZFCdVg24izJZMbKN2FVwCxCXGWMp2rSu-TvyT0hU1RwKk0YCarkwo2f4MUGaqdy6zuHyd9SKEiV6tHOgvY/s1600/Buffalo+Chicken+Salad.png" height="301" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/06/pool-party-buffalo-chicken-salad.html">Buffalo Chicken Salad</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7pjKf9wIjpqvKW9VKKtF-NCO3n80Q2gizTHg2QSgVM350wRRopm3siVlAyxLS89DoZRhEENn8mIdCTcFlN333Xdk9elWXUhTevn-nZdMMHWghb1UuVb6-N9QfS2SMO0npxzE7G4fOBxg/s1600/Roasted+Cauliflower+Hummus.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7pjKf9wIjpqvKW9VKKtF-NCO3n80Q2gizTHg2QSgVM350wRRopm3siVlAyxLS89DoZRhEENn8mIdCTcFlN333Xdk9elWXUhTevn-nZdMMHWghb1UuVb6-N9QfS2SMO0npxzE7G4fOBxg/s1600/Roasted+Cauliflower+Hummus.png" height="306" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/07/roasted-cauliflower-hummus.html">Roasted Cauliflower Hummus</a></div>
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<h2>
Salads</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsEPeYprdK53e-qPzD70Ef496Kag_ajbReJl4HtpD1ig09h8_5tzAt5jsTO5G1Avb2wAiNU3ku1yi57-uO4oDY0jKm9ywOwTH9MCL0xM9OdFwVKh6HHTtYFtiVvISZB9lJLvk7dVTdyyA/s1600/carrot+salad.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsEPeYprdK53e-qPzD70Ef496Kag_ajbReJl4HtpD1ig09h8_5tzAt5jsTO5G1Avb2wAiNU3ku1yi57-uO4oDY0jKm9ywOwTH9MCL0xM9OdFwVKh6HHTtYFtiVvISZB9lJLvk7dVTdyyA/s1600/carrot+salad.png" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/08/shredded-carrot-salad.html">Shredded Carrot Salad</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOjFxeMlkkNhkosL_S74pzFqFWN4U_-x4TSnpeRDoFnEkqNQaytprkl9MZXoRlG2fiAU_i7BochlY4W3em3cuR_uGu6dAMtZ7AicaqzBZ734h7oRbWmHAx983_0TGSeVyMtHoSo4P3WR4/s1600/three+color+salad.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOjFxeMlkkNhkosL_S74pzFqFWN4U_-x4TSnpeRDoFnEkqNQaytprkl9MZXoRlG2fiAU_i7BochlY4W3em3cuR_uGu6dAMtZ7AicaqzBZ734h7oRbWmHAx983_0TGSeVyMtHoSo4P3WR4/s1600/three+color+salad.png" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/08/three-color-roasted-vegetable-salad.html">Three Color Roasted Vegetable Salad</a></div>
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<h2>
Treats</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf_2f9Z345AkBJ3UX7rLqEYXc0wynZryM5BuDBS5m5YwSWJxh_7Kv_80RI89wDx_VmsoRWxvZ-oWBUhreBOwEJIcyKyMQTfMANBRjylyKUPzaIat4bXPm1I89f1hPLgf2LvGhc277NhUU/s1600/Tropical+Chocolate+Chip+Cookies.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf_2f9Z345AkBJ3UX7rLqEYXc0wynZryM5BuDBS5m5YwSWJxh_7Kv_80RI89wDx_VmsoRWxvZ-oWBUhreBOwEJIcyKyMQTfMANBRjylyKUPzaIat4bXPm1I89f1hPLgf2LvGhc277NhUU/s1600/Tropical+Chocolate+Chip+Cookies.png" height="328" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/08/tropical-chocolate-chip-cookies.html">Tropical Chocolate Chip Cookies</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zUwiwROk7rjWcpXxPMtwYhh0S-ESHBvyUDddTmA9wZ6eCUYSGhKTiVOv7n3NAXFr9egFQns07xilwgThAJJUl1zBpahJlaSP4d-Ty1vI9N-E1ZlaCBx5ulL_tuaOIqjuEr7lT4LL1Rs/s1600/Bacon+Maple+Bars.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zUwiwROk7rjWcpXxPMtwYhh0S-ESHBvyUDddTmA9wZ6eCUYSGhKTiVOv7n3NAXFr9egFQns07xilwgThAJJUl1zBpahJlaSP4d-Ty1vI9N-E1ZlaCBx5ulL_tuaOIqjuEr7lT4LL1Rs/s1600/Bacon+Maple+Bars.png" height="268" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/08/pecan-maple-bacon-bars.html">Pecan Maple Bacon Bars</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsEnrtuhbUfLZWV97HWunVV0RP01yr7agjTP2fVZ2ij6AjNv7ESbp-oHNkP_0gHee-lUed1cZzye-51yniBGiqJKzjTP9LrdCVyhyTOCZ6MfI5FX2XuFO-D00P1LV7DbLBeswMB5TkWk0/s1600/banana+cream+cake.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsEnrtuhbUfLZWV97HWunVV0RP01yr7agjTP2fVZ2ij6AjNv7ESbp-oHNkP_0gHee-lUed1cZzye-51yniBGiqJKzjTP9LrdCVyhyTOCZ6MfI5FX2XuFO-D00P1LV7DbLBeswMB5TkWk0/s1600/banana+cream+cake.png" height="335" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/10/banana-cream-cake.html">Banana Cream Cake</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNqhEVAHRVQjod2YuPwxR3sWgXJn5ti40bzUoS1rryLxzBK2KFaqfhKu83KYX8pzs1HFt4Pj_d-bJtya4aM8GEWoEWKFeKYhePTgau3TJyfVp7w6UqnsiOxqcXM7ngsj-w1y5YKDv9B_k/s1600/Fancy+Pineapple.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNqhEVAHRVQjod2YuPwxR3sWgXJn5ti40bzUoS1rryLxzBK2KFaqfhKu83KYX8pzs1HFt4Pj_d-bJtya4aM8GEWoEWKFeKYhePTgau3TJyfVp7w6UqnsiOxqcXM7ngsj-w1y5YKDv9B_k/s1600/Fancy+Pineapple.png" height="243" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2014/01/pineapple-with-dark-chocolate-sauce.html">Pineapple With Dark Chocolate Sauce</a></div>
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Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-86737425302808843092014-01-29T21:33:00.000-05:002014-01-29T21:33:13.850-05:00Jalapeño Poppers + Avocado RanchThis recipe is brought to you by the kindness of one of my colleagues. She lives in a different city, and I've been working on a big project with her - long distance - for a few years. Last fall I was visiting her city and she invited me over to her house for a home-cooked meal (that type of kindness is a real blessing and luckily not too rare in my cubicle-bound world).<br />
<br />
My colleague shook up a <i>mean</i> ginger martini, and she and her husband prepared a cornucopia of vegetable dishes (hot and cold). All were delicious, but the shining star of the evening was her husband's beautifully grilled ribeye. Now, if you haven't noticed, I'm a food-lover. I know an excellent steak when I eat one. So I started interrogating them about how they could possibly have made something so simple - that I have enjoyed countless times - so incredibly delicious.<br />
<br />
That's when they let me in on their secret: <a href="http://www.muzzysmagic.com/">Muzzy's Magic</a> Texas Jalapeño Seasoning with Cilantro. They seasoned both sides of the steaks about 30 minutes before putting them on the grill. Super simple. Major pay off.<br />
<br />
This revelation brought so many thoughts to mind. First: Be still my adopted-Texan heart! Then: Why have I never tasted this before? And finally: Where do I get some for myself?<br />
<br />
I so enjoyed the meal that they doubled-down on their kindness and sent me home with my very own bottle of Muzzy's Magic (we're friends for life at this point. how could we not be?). I've been using it on everything. Chicken. Pork. Beef. Everything. So when I decided to take a stab at protein-packed, bacon-wrapped jalapeño poppers, I knew I had the perfect seasoning in my spice cabinet.<br />
<br />
If you're not lucky enough to have Muzzy's Magic in <i>your</i> spice rack, you can make an adequate replacement with salt, pepper, and garlic. But don't kid yourself, it won't be the same. I strongly recommend (to a friend) that you order a bottle!<br />
<br />
<h2>
Jalapeño Poppers</h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEime4cNwwWzyYfO0xGw9A8u_xUCgo8-IFh6ic0gf2rBRuAoPaxfIi31LnEGdd8wlyRAu0nCAeOdIpMUgE9ej3D1aX3MX0u83hzwwb3JAx_UnlyP0_EWNoAWjInQF5oiaw8vKxeCTIa9gOs/s1600/Jalapeno+Poppers.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEime4cNwwWzyYfO0xGw9A8u_xUCgo8-IFh6ic0gf2rBRuAoPaxfIi31LnEGdd8wlyRAu0nCAeOdIpMUgE9ej3D1aX3MX0u83hzwwb3JAx_UnlyP0_EWNoAWjInQF5oiaw8vKxeCTIa9gOs/s1600/Jalapeno+Poppers.png" height="295" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously, take my advice. Toothpicks are important!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4>
Ingredients</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
12 large jalapeño peppers</div>
<div>
1 1/2 lb chicken breast</div>
<div>
12 strips center cut bacon</div>
<div>
1/2 cup coconut milk<br />
Muzzy's Magic (or Garlic Powder, Salt and Pepper)</div>
<div>
Toothpicks (recommended)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
Instructions</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place chicken in a baking dish and season liberally with Muzzy's Magic. Bake at 400 degrees until chicken is fully cooked. About 30 to 35 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool enough to touch.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
While the chicken bakes, split the jalapeños in half lengthwise and remove the stems and seeds. Then slice each bacon strip in half. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Shred the cooled chicken. Mix in coconut milk and re-season with Muzzy's Magic to taste. Press a small ball of chicken mixture into each jalapeño half and wrap with a bacon strip. Secure the bacon to the jalapeño with a toothpick (recommended. I skipped this step to save time, and made a mess of everything! Haste makes waste....). </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Arrange stuffed-and-wrapped jalapeños on a backing sheet. Bake at 400 degrees until bacon is fully cooked. About 20 minutes. </div>
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<br /></div>
<h3>
</h3>
<h2>
Avocado Ranch</h2>
<h4>
Ingredients</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
1/2 cup <a href="http://themeanestmomma.com/2012/03/13/paleo-mayo-2-0/">homemade paleo mayo</a> (and yes! you should <a href="http://bakingbites.com/2011/03/how-to-pasteurize-eggs-at-home/">pasteurize your egg</a>)</div>
<div>
1 ripe avocado</div>
<div>
2 tablespoons lime juice</div>
<div>
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder</div>
<div>
Salt and pepper</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
Instructions</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In a small bowl, mash the avocado with lime juice, garlic, salt and pepper. Then fold in the mayo. Serve immediately (the avocado will begin to brown, so you don't want it to linger too long before serving).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<br />Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-37412063982780940992014-01-26T13:13:00.000-05:002014-01-26T13:57:28.006-05:00Banana Muffins + Bonus RecipeSo. Things have been pretty fantastic lately.<br />
<br />
I moved into a fancy, new single-girl cave that also happens to be right in the center of my social universe (location, location, location!). And even though it has been <i>freezing</i>, I'm doing my best to learn my new neighborhood.<br />
<br />
I've walked my reusable bags to the grocery store (which totally counts as a workout, by the way). I've met friends out for drinks and sushi and other-more-different drinks. All without getting lost or catching frostbite. Last night I pushed the limits of my new land navigation skills and headed to a concert <i>outside</i> my immediate five block radius (winning!).<br />
<br />
And then, this morning, when I woke up with the slightest-touch of a hangover, I was <i>so happy</i> to find a dozen paleo banana muffins all boxed up on my kitchen counter. I baked them as a birthday treat for one of my co-workers (he won't miss one, right? or two?), and I hadn't even thought about how great they would be as hangover-food!<br />
<br />
OK. That's a lie. Maybe I secretly thought about it a little bit. But I mean. If you can't/won't/don't eat <a href="http://www.mcdonalds.com/us/en/food/product_nutrition.breakfast.275.egg-mcmuffin.html">normal hangover-food</a>, what else are you supposed to do?<br />
<br />
<h2>
Banana Muffins</h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXpaKaMkI8IxNQRRtqXeU2GPC_6Z-sD-RP7WFFtxStnJZjExPzjx5UCrEX2KDdRr7MxY85cOkWWgaIqpStuSGGYZb7E3vmq-EGRShlI-B4Kupq1Kfmvxt8PBW2kDKn7BTFF8y88pzw2e4/s1600/Banana+Muffin.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXpaKaMkI8IxNQRRtqXeU2GPC_6Z-sD-RP7WFFtxStnJZjExPzjx5UCrEX2KDdRr7MxY85cOkWWgaIqpStuSGGYZb7E3vmq-EGRShlI-B4Kupq1Kfmvxt8PBW2kDKn7BTFF8y88pzw2e4/s1600/Banana+Muffin.png" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Such a pretty little life-saver.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4>
Ingredients</h4>
<div>
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3 eggs</div>
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<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
2 large bananas, mashed</div>
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<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
1/2 cup tapioca flour (starch)</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
1/2 cup coconut flour</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
1/2 cup grass fed butter, softened</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
2 tablespoons raw honey (optional but recommended)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
2 tablespoons dark rum (or pineapple juice)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
2 teaspoons baking powder</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
1 teaspoon vanilla extract </div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
1/4 teaspoon salt</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<h4>
Instructions</h4>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a small bowl, combine dry ingredients (coconut flour, tapioca starch, baking powder, and salt). Make sure everything is evenly distributed throughout the mixture.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
In a medium bowl, cream together butter, eggs and honey (if desired). Add rum, vanilla, and mashed banana. Whisk to combine.</div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
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Slowly add dry ingredients to the banana mixture. Whisk to fully combine.</div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Spoon batter into 12 muffin cups. Bake at 350 degrees until the edges are brown, the center is firm, and the muffins pass the toothpick test. About 30 to 35 minutes.</div>
</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
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<br />
<h2>
Bonus recipe: Banana Chocolate Chip Cupcakes</h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrpmCm3P_womQooP0QuUx2pcc-dcBpEEMufgvo1nJ4ROPESNcuFnAvmcwqt9yRq_K9fSFzyjIMH4SgoqqgYslj-Ky7-rjT8iDH4DcaE0-aMvHt3PvA-ORvKhOZkA5aytwg2EXJEgITEo4/s1600/Banana+Cupcake.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrpmCm3P_womQooP0QuUx2pcc-dcBpEEMufgvo1nJ4ROPESNcuFnAvmcwqt9yRq_K9fSFzyjIMH4SgoqqgYslj-Ky7-rjT8iDH4DcaE0-aMvHt3PvA-ORvKhOZkA5aytwg2EXJEgITEo4/s1600/Banana+Cupcake.png" height="307" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Artistic, right?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Even before I ditched wheat, I often complained about store-bought muffins and popular muffin recipes (yes, I know I'm the worst). If you add frozen blueberries to your vanilla cupcake batter, does that make it health food?! Or appropriate for breakfast? But! If it's acceptable to turn cupcakes into "muffins" why not turn muffins into cupcakes? Just add 1 cup dark chocolate chips to the batter, and frost with <a href="http://www.elanaspantry.com/paleo-chocolate-frosting/">dark chocolate icing</a>. Voila!<br />
<br />
This recipe re-make was such a hit, the CrossFit boys didn't believe they were Paleo. We can debate the finer points of that definition later. Bottom line: these cupcakes are processed-sugar free, grain-free, and delicious. Enjoy.Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-69904186366333608792014-01-21T17:39:00.000-05:002014-01-21T17:39:19.183-05:00Mediterranean Dirty "Rice"If you can't tell, I'm a big fan of cauliflower. I like to mash it (<a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/08/roasted-cauliflower-sweet-potato-mash.html">with</a> and <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/09/caramelized-onion-cauliflower-mash.html">without</a> sweet potatoes). I use cauliflower to thicken <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/06/roasted-broccoli-soup.html">soup</a>. I whip it into <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/07/roasted-cauliflower-hummus.html">hummus</a>. And I chop it up fine to make paleo <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/06/almost-paleo-fried-rice.html">fried "rice."</a><br />
<br />
The fried "rice" recipe is one of my favorites, actually. And it's one that always earns compliments from CB. So when I was brainstorming sides that would go well with my <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/10/banana-pepper-pulled-beef.html">Banana Pepper Pulled Beef</a>, cauliflower "rice" immediately came to mind. Only, plain-old roasted/chopped cauliflower wouldn't do. I had to make something that could stand up for itself next to the bright flavor of the banana peppers.<br />
<br />
Enter dirty rice (the concept).<br />
<br />
Dirty rice is a mixture of rice cooked with meat and veggies. Besides bringing a ton of flavor to the lunch box, dirty rice gives you the opportunity to add <i>even more</i> vegetables to your diet. And if the veggies and seasoning are well-chosen, it can be a perfect side-dish to accompany any protein.<br />
<br />
Banana peppers always bring Greek salad to mind. So, for this version, I pulled together my other favorite Mediterranean flavors to dress up the "rice."<br />
<br />
<h2>
Mediterranean Dirty "Rice"</h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV4m9hbVGWWeoJFFQBi1ZkDmk3wuzMkbuJ-H97p9v63yN94OXhTCkDN5_2PpntxvSWnl0youaAVyPtILEBywXbT3xcEBFGcBBH06AFXDp91dzFT3PlKrZ002acrWd8X2cbAfmDKTquwFc/s1600/Med+Dirty+Rice.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV4m9hbVGWWeoJFFQBi1ZkDmk3wuzMkbuJ-H97p9v63yN94OXhTCkDN5_2PpntxvSWnl0youaAVyPtILEBywXbT3xcEBFGcBBH06AFXDp91dzFT3PlKrZ002acrWd8X2cbAfmDKTquwFc/s1600/Med+Dirty+Rice.png" height="305" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">OK. So my olives are a little more "rough" than "chopped."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></b></div>
<h4>
Ingredients</h4>
<div>
2 heads cauliflower, cut into florets</div>
<div>
1 small eggplant, diced</div>
<div>
1 red onion, diced</div>
<div>
1 12 oz jar kalamata olives, pitted and roughly chopped</div>
<div>
2 tablespoons lemon juice</div>
<div>
3 tablespoons olive oil</div>
<div>
1 tablespoon dried oregano</div>
<div>
1 teaspoon garlic powder</div>
<div>
Salt and pepper</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
Instructions</h4>
<div>
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Toss the cauliflower florets with 2 tablespoons olive oil and arrange on a baking sheet. Season with salt and pepper. Roast at 400 degrees until the cauliflower is tender. About 30 minutes.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
While the cauliflower is roasting, heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a medium skillet. Add onion and eggplant and season with salt and pepper. Cook over medium heat until eggplant is tender and onions begin to caramelize. Add olives, lemon juice, basil, and garlic powder. Stir to combine. Remove from heat and set aside.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Once the cauliflower is done cooking. Remove from oven and let cool enough to touch. Once cool, roughly chop the cauliflower into rice-sized pieces. Return the pieces to the baking sheet. Pour the onion-eggplant-olive mixture over the cauliflower and combine well (it's easiest to just use your hands). Makes 8 servings.<br />
<br />
Note: If you're not keeping it super-strict, you also could add a cup of feta to your mixture, right at the end.</div>
Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-66919579279921477372014-01-14T20:25:00.002-05:002014-01-14T20:36:23.016-05:00Pineapple with Dark Chocolate SauceSo. How are the resolutions going?<br />
<br />
A few years ago my friends and I started sharing our goals for the year and checking in with each other every quarter to see how much progress we've made. It helps keep us accountable. And the quarterly check-in lets us reassess and create new goals when life inevitably fails to live up to our expectations.<br />
<br />
We always have a few career-associated goals and plans to improve our social- and family-life. And of course health and fitness goals. For example, in 2014 I plan to establish a new fitness routine. Life interrupted my CrossFit membership (even though I still love it!) so I need to figure out how to hold on to the precious gains I've made over the last two years.<br />
<br />
To that end, I'm following the programming on <a href="http://bodeefit.com/">bodeefit.com</a> (download the app! It's sooo cool). And I'm getting my nutrition back under control (see ya later, holidays!).<br />
<br />
I imagine many of you are in the same boat.<br />
<br />
But then what do you do when you're craving something sweet? Or if your party-loving friends haven't changed their plans to accommodate your resolutions? Turn nature's dessert into something a little special!<br />
<br />
<h2>
Pineapple with Dark Chocolate Sauce</h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdac_D21mBdSczAf1-V2Uh1oZxFvMz4utwMwmuduM5Dai4r7ARzhCN3nCdvHgbZ4KK0aQDZkpIvXEQMWuYkGcjF-CVbPLWicvXmsjfHserHeUkfq_sLUxAp3IffztCeI0lbnVo4KDQiY/s1600/Fancy+Pineapple.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdac_D21mBdSczAf1-V2Uh1oZxFvMz4utwMwmuduM5Dai4r7ARzhCN3nCdvHgbZ4KK0aQDZkpIvXEQMWuYkGcjF-CVbPLWicvXmsjfHserHeUkfq_sLUxAp3IffztCeI0lbnVo4KDQiY/s400/Fancy+Pineapple.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See how fancy they are?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4>
Ingredients</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
16 oz pineapple, peeled and cut into chunks</div>
<div>
1 cup dark chocolate chips (I prefer <a href="http://www.enjoylifefoods.com/chocolate-for-baking/mini-chips/">Enjoy Life</a>)<br />
1/3 cup coconut oil<br />
1 tablespoon vanilla<br />
<br />
<h4>
Instructions</h4>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Skewer the pineapple chunks with toothpicks and arrange on the parchment paper. Add chocolate, coconut oil, and vanilla to a small sauce pan and place over low heat. Stir continuously until chocolate is melted and sauce is combined. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Using a spoon, drizzle the chocolate sauce over the pineapple (you won't use all of the sauce, but it keeps well in a sealed container in the refrigerator). Place tray of pineapple in the freezer for 10 minutes to harden the sauce and make the skewers less messy to arrange on a serving dish (or carry individually to the living room for midnight snack). </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Credit where credit is due: For the sauce, I used the ingredients from a chocolate frosting recipe I found on <a href="http://www.elanaspantry.com/paleo-chocolate-frosting/">Elana's Pantry</a>.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<br />Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-26509967582924729812014-01-01T10:15:00.000-05:002014-01-01T10:15:30.388-05:00What I learned in 2013Happy New Year!<br />
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2013 didn't exactly turn out as I had planned. I continued to improve my health and fitness, got even more creative in the kitchen, and earned thousands of visitors to my Silly Little Blog (thank you!). I kept climbing ever higher at work (not out of my basement cubicle, but figuratively).<br />
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I also took a major blow.<br />
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All told, I am proud of 2013. Unlike <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/01/what-i-learned-in-2012.html">last year</a>, I don't have a list of lessons to share. I only have the one, but it's a <i>big</i> one.<br />
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<b>The grass is greenest under your own two feet. </b><br />
<b></b>Put another way: you are responsible for your own happiness.<br />
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This lesson came into clear focus this Fall when CaveBoy left in search of greener pastures. Initially, I was devastated. I did all the things a CaveGirl can do to try to make him change his mind. But the thing is (and this is a lesson I learned long ago) <i>you can't make a grown-up do anything they don't want to do</i>. And CaveBoy didn't want to stay.<br />
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So then I had to get down to the business of disentangling my life from someone I loved for a decade and begin the process of creating a life for myself. Luckily, I have an amazing circle of friends and an outrageously-supportive family. They wanted to help in any way they could. And - independent as I am - I let them.<br />
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I outsourced my rage to my best girls so I could focus on being practical and protecting my future. I followed my big brother's advice to the letter. I relied on the strong shoulders of my CrossFit friends and the sound logic of my co-workers. And I moved at break-neck speed to do all the things I needed to do to begin again.<br />
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At times, the logistics became overwhelming. Other times I worried that I was becoming too much of a burden on my loved-ones (honestly how many times can you call someone just to make them listen to you cry?).<br />
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I watched the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-gQLqv9f4o">pep talk</a> more than I care to admit.<br />
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But even though my life was in chaos - and everyone would have understood if I flaked out or broke down or gave up - I achieved the greatest successes in my career (to date). I had some great laughs with friends and my force-of-nature little sister. With the process of divorce crushing down on me, I still woke up each morning excited for what the day would bring. Multiple times each day - even on my saddest most stressful days - I thought to myself, "I <i>love</i> my life!"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: My good friend Meredith</td></tr>
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It's true.<br />
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I'm happy.<br />
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Sure. I still feel anger and disappointment when I'm pushing though my Divorce To-Do List. But those feelings never last long. They're no match for the gratitude I feel for my friends and family. Or the excitement I feel about the meaningful work that I do every day. Or the wonder and curiosity I have about what this life has in store for me next.<br />
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I was happy before CaveBoy left, and I'm still happy today.<br />
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There is nothing for me to seek. I have more than enough right here. And there is no better lesson than that!<br />
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<br />Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348885381430089583.post-59016759510262388942013-11-30T16:59:00.001-05:002013-11-30T16:59:57.902-05:00CaveLife: Paleo Skin-Care (Faces)I don't know about you, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AgFeZr5ptV8">but I'm feeling 22</a>* (just kidding, I'm not... But my skin sometimes does, and not in a good way).<br />
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Thankfully, I'm slowly learning how to combat my skin issues. Emphasis on <b>slowly</b>.<br />
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When I first joined my local CrossFit gym, I already ate pretty clean, and had eliminated sugar and many processed foods. But a few weeks in, when they started a paleo nutrition challenge, I made the conscious decision <i>not</i> to participate. And when I did start eliminating grains, I started with bread and pasta but held on to occasional fried food for another 4 months. I didn't fully eliminate dairy until 3 months after <i>that</i> and I'm still in a love-hate relationship with Diet Coke. I'm just not one to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drinking_the_Kool-Aid">drink all the kool-aid</a> all at once.<br />
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That attitude applies to my skin-care, too. I have long-abandoned harsh and harmful acne treatments (figuring that if it isn't safe for pregnant women, it's probably not <i>really</i> safe for anybody). And when I started eliminating all processed food and unnecessary chemicals from my diet, it seemed natural to start eliminating potentially dangerous chemicals from my beauty routine. But experimentalist that I am, I just couldn't (and still can't) jump into the hippy-skin-care aisle with both feet. I need to make one change at a time, and determine if it works <i>for me</i> before changing something else (that's just good science!).<br />
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And on top of that, I <i>love</i> my <a href="http://www.marykay.com/">Mary Kay</a> tinted moisturizer and waterproof mascara. <b>L.O.V.E.</b> And I am a huge fan of the MK mineral bronzing powder and mineral highlighting powder. That quartet is pretty-much all I wear. So it's going to take something über-fantastic to get me to change - and besides, they're made of <i>minerals</i> (right?!).<br />
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But I have made significant changes in other areas of my skin-care. Right around Christmas (last year) I started to break-out more than usual, <i>way</i> more than usual, actually. And I was both shocked and disturbed. First, because my skin had been amazing ever since I had eliminated dairy. And second, because the break-out was more painful than any I had experienced (including high school).<br />
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I went straight <a href="http://google.com/">to the cloud</a> and amassed as much (conflicting) information on acne and natural skin-care as I could find. I read rave reviews for The Body Shop's <a href="http://www.thebodyshop-usa.com/skin-care/facial-masks/seaweed-ionic-clay-mask.aspx">Seaweed Ionic Clay Mask</a> and had a jar shipped to the house (I love you <a href="http://amazon.com/">Amazon</a>!). Although I'm not quite clear on the physics of the clay's "negatively charged ions," I will say that using the mask twice-a-week reduced my healing-time and overall improved my skin texture. And it smells great, too!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.thebodyshop-usa.com/">www.thebodyshop-usa.com/</a></td></tr>
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Through my research, I also stumbled upon <a href="http://cavegirleats.com/">cavegirleats.com</a> (full disclosure: it wasn't my first time visiting CaveGirlEats. I had briefly perused the site when I started this blog and searched the internet for all permutations of "paleo" and "cavegirl," to avoid infringing on anyone's copyright).<br />
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It turns out my new best friend Liz (not really, but I wish!) had suffered a similar predicament. Through trial-and-error she healed her skin and eliminated break-outs through proper nutrition, supplementation, and <a href="http://cavegirleats.com/2010/12/29/cleansing-redefined/">oil cleansing</a>. I thought I'd give it a try.<br />
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I started by taking two capsules of <a href="http://www.greenpasture.org/public/Products/ButterCodLiverBlend/index.cfm">butter oil and fermented cod liver oil</a> with my fish oil in the morning. It is an excellent source of fat-soluble vitamins, many of which promote skin-health. The capsules <i>did </i>help, and reduced my break-outs considerably. At the same time I started experimenting with oil cleansing, but abandoned the efforts after a week.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.greenpasture.org/">www.greenpasture.org</a></td></tr>
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Then, in the summer, started to moisturize my face (and skin) with coconut oil. I used a tiny dab in the morning (before my makeup) and evening (before bed). I found it to be moisturizing and soothing, and it didn't cause any breakouts. At first (more on that later).<br />
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In the mean time, Liz from CaveGirlEats published her <a href="http://skinterventionguide.org/">Skintervention Guide</a> e-book. I downloaded a copy and worked my way though it. I started following (more of) her recommendations, with great results.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://purelyprimalskincare.com/">purelyprimalskincare.com</a><br />
Don't you want to have her skin?</td></tr>
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I already drink a <a href="http://synergydrinks.com/index.php/products#enlightened-kombucha/enlightened-kombucha-organic-raw-kombucha-citrus">Citrus Kombucha</a> every week to give myself a probiotic boost. So to better heal my digestion and (hopefully) gain full use of the nutrients in my diet, I started drinking a few tablespoons of apple cider vinegar diluted in a cup of warm water every morning. Then a few weeks later, I started drinking <a href="http://sillylittlecavegirl.blogspot.com/2013/08/bone-broth-not-safe-for-vegans.html">Bone Broth</a> in the evenings before bed. I was amazed that such simple steps helped stave off the usual mini-break-out I suffer when I eat potato chips or french fries (the first step is admitting you have a problem..).<br />
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Finally, in early August - fully convinced of Liz's genius - I re-kindled my relationship with oil cleansing. Only this time, I resolved to take my time and do the full cleanse and toner method (recommended in the e-book) at least every other day, instead of the speedy alternative version she describes on her blog.<br />
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The results were... <b>terrible</b> (are you shocked that I'd admit that?) and I quit (again) after two weeks. I expected to break-out a little more in the beginning, as my skin adjusted to the new routine. But when that little bit turned into <i>a lot</i> during the second week, I cried uncle.<br />
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I rely on my cuteness to counteract my meanness at work. It allows me to get a ton accomplished without alienating people (too much). But it's a fine line. I cannot let fresh-faced (innovative!) become young-looking (immature...), or I will lose my credibility. With the way my skin looked, I was inching ever closer to you-remind-me-of-my-teenage-daughter territory. And on top of that, acne is gross and it <i>hurts, </i>and it makes me feel self-conscious. And none of that = happy CaveGirl.<br />
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So. I went back to my <a href="http://www.marykay.com/en-US/TipsAndTrends/Pages/merchandising-pages/Botanical-Effects-Skin-Care-Collection.aspx">normal face wash</a> and called my friend to order an aggressive (and expensive!) acne treatment line from <a href="https://www.rodanandfields.com/Shop/Unblemish">Rodan + Fields</a> (desperate times call for desperate measures). I also bleached my pillow case, brewed up a fresh batch of bone broth, grabbed an extra bottle of apple cider vinegar, and started chugging <a href="http://purelyprimalskincare.com/skin-care-beverage-ginger-lemon-morning-tonic/">ginger lemon tonic</a>. I was on a mission. I did get myself back to some level of normal, but it took almost a month.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.rodanandfields.com/Shop/Unblemish">https://www.rodanandfields.com/Shop/Unblemish</a></td></tr>
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I'm still not sure which part of the oil cleanse mixture caused such a strong reaction. I've always had sensitive skin (hence my desire for soothing, natural skin-care), and I have a bizarre list of food allergies (most of which cause an adverse skin reaction), so it really could be any number of things. But I'm not willing to suffer the potential consequences of systematically working through the ingredients to determine the culprit (not even for the sake of science). That mystery will <i>remain</i> a mystery...<br />
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Despite all that, I wasn't ready to give up my quest for a more-natural skin-care routine. And I needed a moisturizer to supplement my super-expensive (but crazy effective) face wash. For some reason, the coconut oil wasn't doing the trick anymore. After a little research I realized my problem. It has a <a href="https://www.beneficialbotanicals.com/facts-figures/comedogenic-rating.html">really high comedogenic rating</a>, meaning it's known to clog pores and cause acne. The hippy-skin-care blogs didn't mention <i>that</i> part!<br />
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I re-doubled my research to find a moisturizer that is non-comedogenic, low in chemicals, and if-at-all-possible chock-full of skin healthy vitamins. That's when I found <a href="http://www.westonaprice.org/know-your-fats/traditional-nourishing-and-healing-skin-care">this article</a> from Weston A. Price and some anecdotal evidence from <a href="http://stupideasypaleo.com/2013/04/14/grass-fed-tallow-balm/">paleo</a> and <a href="http://www.mommypotamus.com/tallow-for-skin-care/">mommy</a> bloggers. I figured it was worth a try and ordered a 2 oz jar of <a href="http://primalcare.net/?page_id=13">Primal Care Skin Balm</a>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://primalcare.net/">primalcare.net </a><br />
Cute right? And it came with a hand-written note. </td></tr>
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This stuff is amazing! It smells a little game-y but that goes away after a few seconds. And even if it didn't it would be worth it. I had to do some extra research and learn some new words (<a href="http://health.howstuffworks.com/skin-care/information/anatomy/sebum.htm">sebum</a>, anyone?) to understand how it works. Turns out: the tallow is similar to our natural body oil and helps tame the over-active bits. I found a little dab morning and night to be soothing and light enough to wear under normal make-up. After six weeks, I'm still using it daily with no breakouts to speak of!<br />
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I'm so happy with the results, and the night-and-day difference from this time last year, that I'm going to stick with what I'm doing. I admit my routine doesn't count as paleo skin-care, because the R+F is definitely not <i>all natural</i>. But I really tried.<br />
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And I feel strongly that the bone broth, ginger-lemon tonic, and fermented cod liver oil are responsible for a much greater proportion of my success than the topical treatments. I leave the R+F at home when I travel for work, and I have yet to suffer a relapse (even when I lose control of my diet and alcohol consumption at social events). That indicates to me that my many months of effort have healed my skin from the inside. And I'm pretty satisfied with that!<br />
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What about you? What natural skin-care treatments have you tried?<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*Note: Yes, I know this is a moldy pop culture reference. But this post was almost a year in the making. Good science takes as long as it takes... </span><br />
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<br />Silly Little CaveGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11192845135618021719noreply@blogger.com0