Squash- it's what's for dinner.

I discovered a new vegetable today- the Spaghetti Squash. How I've gone this long without knowing its deliciousness is beyond me... But we've been brought together now, and our dinner repertoire will never be the same.

I bought two, since I wasn't quite sure how much one football-sized squash would yield. But after almost slicing off a few fingers cutting it in half and then baking it for 40 minutes with some olive oil, salt and pepper, I was very happy I'd only done one.

Holy spaghetti squash, Batman! That is one very large plate, with an even larger pile of squash! Easily enough for four people, even considering how much my husband can put away. Sorry there aren't more prep pictures. I had no intention of blogging about this, but it just turned out so darn tasty, I couldn't resist. After sprucing up some plain sauce with fresh basil, mushrooms, black olives, bell pepper and garlic, I ended up with this:

That bowl is ginormous and makes it look smaller, but that's two cups of squash and about one cup of sauce in there. Holy crap it was delicious!! And filling. AND barely over 200 calories! I'm shocked at how good it was. Leo hasn't tried it yet, but I'm thinking I'll let him eat it and then tell him what it is. Prejudgement will only cloud the response from his taste buds. :)

It's just sew nice!

For quite a while now, I've had the urge to start sewing. This is especially ironic because I cannot even count the number of times my Mother tried to teach me when I was younger, and now that we live many hours apart, I want to learn. I know, I know- my timing is impeccable... but alas, I still want to learn! I mentioned this to her awhile back, and asked if she had any old sewing machines lying around. You never know what my parents have stashed up in the attic, and I didn't need anything shiny and new if she had an old one I could learn on. She said she didn't, and I dropped the subject for the time being, thinking maybe I could ask Santa for one for Christmas.

Little did I know, Mom had other plans. About a week after I asked, I got a rather large package in the mail. And guess what was inside??

A beautiful new sewing machine of my very own! Its arrival happened within about 48 hours of all the pricey shenanigans with the car, and I got just a wee bit teary eyed when I opened it up. Just the pick-me-up I needed. And the funny part was- Leo apparently has secret sewing knowledge! As I pulled the pieces out of the box, he began to tell me all about how it's important to put pleats into skirts so they hang better, and how you're supposed to put the two nice fabric sides together and then turn them inside afterward to make it all look nice... Say what?! Such a handy guy. :)

Not long after, I found myself at Joann Fabric. Again- this is ironic since fabric stores were some of my most despised locations as a child. (My sisters and I would often end up in the craft section, practicing our batting with styrofoam balls or launching things over the aisles to whoever was standing on the other side...) But I needed the proper accessories to get started, so away I went. I may know nothing about sewing, but I do know fabric and thread come in handy. And lucky me- I found a perfect little starter kit that would put me on the right path!

Unfortunately, being in the middle of a school semester and all, I have about zero extra time to devote to my new hobby, but through YouTube instructional videos and my dear friend and quilter extraordinaire, Amy, who was in town visiting not long after my new little machine arrived, I have made progress!

That's right ladies & gents- I can now sew a STRAIGHT LINE! Alert Vera Wang she's got some new competition. I'm not willing to disclose just how long it took to actually thread that bobbin- but the point is: we were successful!

I have a long way to go, and I can't imagine ever reaching the ranks of my Mother and Grandmother, but I guess everyone has to start somewhere, right?

Let's catch up, shall we?

Hello readers!

I won’t even try to explain where I’ve been for the past 2 months… but just know it’s involved a lot of books and hours spent in the computer lab and quizzes and tests and blah blah blah. I’ve basically given up on blogging regularly and have come to accept that as reality. BUT- I do get a chance to jot down random ideas from time to time as things occur, and the next few blogs (however sporadically they’re posted) will probably revolve around past events.

First up- the washer.

Our amazingly beautiful washer and dryer were hands down my greatest craigslist find to date. I picked them up in San Antonio, shortly after arriving back in the States, from an Air Force family who was in the process of moving. They were about 4 years old at the time, in superb condition, and I got them for about ¼ of what they would cost retail.

High efficiency, great condition, pretty color, with fun lights to watch and buttons to push? Ahhhh… love.

Now, as a set they’re beyond incredible, but really- the washer is my true love.  I honestly miss having a clothes line and wouldn’t mind using one full-time. (Nothing beats the smell of sunshine.) But in the apartment world, they’re frowned upon. So the dryer definitely serves its own important purpose. But the washer makes me happy like nothing else. After hand-washing in Botswana for 2+ years, I get downright giddy every time I fire up that beautiful blue beast and consider it a prize when the clothes come out all clean and fresh. (No bleeding hands required!) We had a lovely, perfectly functional relationship… up until about 5 months ago.

Suddenly, the washer turned on us. After all the loving compliments and singing of praises, it began to throw what can only be explained as tantrums.  The drum which once handled bulky comforters and sheets and towels with no problem whatsoever began thumping and bumping and trying to walk across the floor during nearly every use! If even one t-shirt ended up on the wrong side during the spin cycle, look out! After dealing with it for a few months, we finally called Sears. And after some consideration of our options, we chose to go for the 1-year warranty contract that basically covers any and all maintenance expenses for the year it’s in effect. So we scheduled a service call.

Unfortunately, it happened to fall on a day I was at work, and it didn’t end as planned. The technician apparently showed up, did a load of laundry, and everything worked absolutely perfectly. (Of course.) After months of memorizing the sounds and movements of the washer and going so far as to set the timer on the microwave to dart in there just in time to avoid it walking across the floor and upsetting the neighbors… Frustration doesn’t even come close! We’d already shelled out the cash for the year-long warranty, and I vowed that even if I had to take a HAMMER to it, we would get our money’s worth!

So then we got busy with the semester and all of this went on the back burner. We continued to set the alarm on the microwave and generally deal with it. And then one night, I jotted down this little nugget:

“Leo has sent me to the bedroom to cool down. He walked into the apartment and found me yelling obscenities at and threatening to kill the washer. And you know what? IT DESERVED IT. It continues to be off balance and drive me insane with every cycle. I would take pleasure in launching it off the balcony, to die a quick and painful death on the pavement below, and then claim innocence tomorrow morning when our neighbors find the carcass. But unfortunately, Leo is much too level-headed to help me with the murder… Not only is the machine stupid, it’s sexist, too! It goes all nutso 100% of the times I start it, but Leo has a much better track record. Therefore he doesn’t fully understand when he walks in to find me cursing like an especially foul-mouthed sailor or whispering “I will kill you” to it after I’ve had to open the lid and rearrange clothes for a THIRD time.”

Yeah.

It wasn’t pretty.

For a while, we resorted to turning off the spin cycle all together. Do you know how WET clothes come out when there’s no spin?? Definitely not an ideal fix. So eventually, we scheduled another service call. On a day I would be home.

And that’s when Mario entered my life. Mario, my new BFF from Sears. He was in the apartment for literally 5 minutes and knew exactly what the problem was. The suspension was shot. Up until that point, I had no idea washing machines even HAD suspensions, but apparently there was a lot I didn't know. He dealt with all of my ridiculous questions, passed on all sorts of knowledge and hilarious stories from his 25 years on the job, and most importantly: FIXED THE WASHER!!! There was jumping up and down and cheering when it hit its first spin cycle without incident. After months of tense relations, our friendship had been restored. We were on good terms once again, and I apologized for ever fantasizing about its death.

I gave Mario probably the best online review of his life, and Leo, the washer and I lived happily ever after.

A labor-free Labor Day.

I woke up this morning with a full to-do list on the brain. I was going to go to the gym, take a few minutes after to get cleaned up and then head up to campus for a day-long study session... Maybe with a trip to the grocery store during a study break. But you know what I did instead? NOTHING. Absolutely NOTHING. And it was heaven.

I rolled out of bed at 8:30 and Leo and I enjoyed an amazing breakfast:

Mmm... The omelettes were so good and so filling and who were we to force ourselves off the couch and interrupt the digestion process? So we sat around and watched frivolous TV and got absolutely nothing accomplished. Then we took a nap. And then watched more meaningless TV, argued over which houses the shoppers should choose on House Hunters, and snuck in a movie or two on Netflix. We are still in our PJ's and have not set foot outside the apartment door even once. In our defense, we did manage to wash a couple loads of laundry and clean up the kitchen. So there's that.

Yes, I will absolutely regret this come Wednesday morning as I surely fail my pathophysiology quiz, but for now, I'm not budging.

Thankful.

Several friends and acquaintances have made amazing immigration progress this week. Visas were issued, permanent green cards are on their way... it's been great to keep up with all of it! And as I watch it all unfold, I can't help but be completely and utterly THANKFUL for all that I have.

Leo and I started our immigration journey two and a half years ago. We were on opposite continents when he was given his US Visa, and it's exhausting just to think about those emotions, fears and sleepless nights we both went through. We still have a long way to go until he gets his citizenship, but now that we're married and under the same roof, the rest just seems like fluff.

His two-year American anniversary isn't until October 11th, but I just couldn't help but post this now.

As of today, we are both back in school for the semester, and already sprinting to keep up with the assignments... We've tried to implement a rule of having a date night (textbook and work free!) at least once a month, but we'll see how that goes. We may have to settle for a free hour instead of an entire date. Yes, it's hectic and downright infuriating at times, but I know how blessed I am and how happy I am to have him by my side through all of it.

Parlez-vous Francais?

Not long ago, I found the perfect gift for Leo:

French magnetic poetry! How fun is that?! As I meticulously tore apart the 1 million little magnets, I picked out the ones I knew. And while it may not seem like much (because it's not), it's still a start.

(I got WAY excited about lumiere-- he was the candlestick in Beauty and the Beast!)

Leo's a nice guy, so he's sharing the magnets with me as part of my language learning curriculum. Until now, my "French" has mostly included me ending sentences with a Pepe le Pew-like-grunt or substituting "ze" for "the." Examples: Let's go get in ze car. Would you like more of ze pizza? 

I'm hoping now that I have fun little magnets to play with, my vocabulary will only expand from here! 

The Damn Car.

So, as some of you may have seen lately on facebook, I've been dealing with some automotive drama this week. And I don't want to jinx it and say it's in the past, but I think I'll go ahead and share it with you anyway.  

At the beginning of July, I took the Civic in for a routine oil change. The guys at Midas got it all taken care of, and also informed me that I was long overdue for a timing belt change. They explained what the heck a timing belt WAS, since I'd honestly never heard of one, and I went on my merry way, telling them I'd deal with it. Well, the very next day, I got an email from the Honda dealership advertising a timing belt special they were running. Hmm- how peculiar... And then! Less than a week later, a co-worker started talking about how she'd just changed the timing belt in HER car! At this point, I couldn't help but wonder if the universe was speaking to me. Never had I heard of a timing belt, and then three times in one week?! I decided to listen.  

After calling around to compare prices, I was shocked to find the Honda dealer actually had the best offer. So to the dealer I went! Last Wednesday, I dropped off the car at 9am and had Leo pick me up about an hour later. I got a few things accomplished around the house and decided to lie down for a nap around noon. At 12:30, the phone rang. (In hindsight, those 30 minutes of sleep were the best 30 minutes of my entire week.) My friendly Honda representative was on the other end of the phone, and delivered the very tough news that our cost had just more than doubled. In short, the wheel clicking I'd been ignoring for about six months turned out to be something kinda major (imagine that) and they basically needed to rebuild the front suspension. Fantastic. There was no more sleeping after that-- just pouting. And around 4:30 that afternoon, Leo dropped me back off at the dealer. They close at 6pm and after watching every other customer leave, and most of the staff, I was finally escorted out the front door at 7:15. It was not a fun night.  

And that was the end of it …or so we thought. 

The next day, as I was walking up to my car after work, I realized there was something hanging underneath that I’d never seen before. I actually had a friend check it out as well- just to confirm I wasn’t nuts. And on top of that, I was noticing a “springy” noise in the back passenger wheel I’d never heard before. Ugh. So on Monday- I went back to visit my new Honda dealer friends.  

Sure enough, the splash shield underneath was hanging loose and missing a chunk. No one seems to know how that happened, but it mysteriously occurred less than 24 hours after they tore apart the underside of the car, so they went ahead and replaced it for free. (Hallelujah.) And they informed me that the springy backend noise was the exact same problem they’d just fixed in the front, now occurring in the back. Apparently the bushings (?) have had enough and are starting to voice their displeasure every time I hit a bump. But you know what? I. Don’t. Care. For $750, I’ll just go ahead and listen to the periodic squeakiness. Fine by me. So they replaced my splash shield and I was on my way.  

But I didn’t get far. 

About 20 yards in front of the dealership, I was doing a U-turn and headed toward home when something HORRIBLE happened. I heard a loud pop and there was lots of grinding, and the car wouldn’t accelerate or shift or do ANYTHING correctly. By the grace of God, I had just enough momentum to coast into the entryway of a Subway restaurant, and there I stayed. I tried exactly twice to put the car in park, only to hear more horrible grinding and continue to coast backwards into traffic. So I pulled the emergency brake and sat and thought for a moment. First I called my Honda friends. I informed them that I was stuck at Subway right out their front door and needed their assistance immediately. Leo was coaching and didn’t have his phone, Dad didn’t answer on the first try, so Mom got to endure the freak out that came next. I could hardly breathe I was crying so hard. People were honking at me because I was blocking the entry to Subway, and I was 100% convinced I had just left my transmission back on the roadway somewhere.  

The Honda guys arrived in a minivan within moments, and helped me at least push the Civic into the nearest parking space. They threw me in the minivan and got me back to the dealership, where I went directly to the ladies’ bathroom to mop up my face and try to regain my composure. It was ridiculous, but it’s like every ounce of keeping it together from the week leading up to this just broke. There was no holding back that sense of frustration and helplessness. I came out of the bathroom just in time to grab a complimentary bottle of water and watch five more Honda employees head across the street to push my poor car across the five lane, highly-traveled road that was in front of us. By this point, I had two Honda guys sitting on either side of me in the waiting room, explaining that it would all be ok. (They probably just wanted me to stop scaring the other customers.) All I kept thinking was maybe if I asked reeeaally nicely, they would put that ridonkulous amount of money we’d just given them toward a down payment on a new car.  

They got the Civic right in and figured out pretty quickly that it wasn’t the transmission, but I’d managed to shatter the front driver-side CV joint. (Another new car term to add to my vocabulary.) And while that isn't pleasant, at least it wasn’t something internal that would cost another small fortune. My new minivan-driving friend actually took me back to the garage and showed me the underside of the car and the damage. (If I hadn't been having a mental breakdown at this point, I would've taken a picture for you.) He then dropped me off at home, where I got to fill in Leo once he arrived about an hour later. Luckily, he's mastered the art of talking me off the ledge.

The car had to stay two nights at the dealer (mostly because I work crazy hours and we couldn’t pick it up after the first night.), but I felt that time was important for it to sit there and think about what it had done. I asked my mechanic guys if I got a discount for strategically breaking down just steps from the front doors, and they just laughed and thanked me for "handling it so well." Ha! If that was handling it well, I'm afraid to see someone handling it not well.

We picked it up yesterday, and it’s driving beautifully. Of course, I’m completely terrified to ever make a U-turn EVER again, but I’ll get there. I just need it to last until graduation. The goal is to avoid a car payment until at least one of us is out of school. But honestly- I'm pretty darn tempted to trade it in for a scooter at this point. I'm guessing maintenance for those is a little easier on the wallet.