Tattoo. A Personal Journey.

I have been wanting a tattoo for as long as I can remember.  I was very young when I first was fascinated by body art, I remember seeing grown up men with pictures of anchors and ships etc on their arms, and I loved it.
My parents, of course, didn't encourage positive thinking what tattoos were concerned.  My mom didn't like them at all, and my dad just kept telling me how much it hurts to get a tattoo.... and what kid wants to be in pain?  (Good tactic dad! hehe).

I don't think I ever thought about getting a tattoo myself until I came to the US, and a lot of people, "normal" people", were sporting tattoos of all kinds. The stigma of the tattoo had changed.  It's no longer only "gangsters" and military personnel who wear tattoos, it was becoming a modern accessory for the average citizen .... grandmas and soccer moms have them! (I'm not bagging on grandmas and soccer moms... let me just say that lol .... I'm just making a statement regarding tattoos!)

SO .... now I wanted one.  But what to get? I was determined not to just walk in somewhere and pick something off a wall somewhere. If I was going to do this, it had to be personal, it had to mean something to me...
You'd be surprised at the amount of soul searching that goes into figuring out a tattoo design. (At least for me it did involve some soul searching...).  I went from wanting my favorite animals (tiger), to a dragon .... I thought of tattooing a portrait of a cat that would resemble a lot of memories from my past.

In the midst of all this, I realized that I was thinking too much about what other people would think of my tattoo. I was trying to please other people. That won't work!
It's my tattoo, my choice, my life. If other people don't like it or understand it, that shouldn't matter to me.  I wanted it to be pleasing to the eye of course, but the significance should be personal to me, regardless of what others thought.

So ..... I went back to my roots. Way way WAAAY back to my roots.  To Norse Mythology.  I've always loved Norse mythology. The stories, the gods, the animals... the tradition. It's very interesting and it's certainly relevant to me, both as heritage and as far as interest goes.  Now, as far as tattoos are concerned, there are a lot of choices from Norse mythology... from portraits of specific gods, animals .... symbols.  Personally, I like symbolism.  For me, I like pictures that symbolize a number of things, that carry a lot of meaning.... and that are open for interpretation for whoever sees them.

So let me break down my tattoo for you. And tell you what the different pieces mean to me.

And let it be known... there is a lot about this tattoo I can't really explain. But I'll do my best.

First things first...

Where did I have it done:  Tattoo Alchemy, Montclair, by Peachy.
Did it hurt?   No.
What did it cost?  Not gonna say, it's not about monetary value.

(However, I WILL tell you that the tattoo was paid for by the Palms casino in Las Vegas, from a jackpot I won there, AND by the CA Lottery from some money I won on a scratcher ticket ..... that ought to be good luck, don't you think?? :))

Let's get to the fun part:

The Runes.

The runes read: "For whom the sun also rises" 
Sound familiar? (Read the title of this blog.... hehe). 
The phrase carries 3 main references of inspiration to me. 

1. My daughter. Aurora.  Her name means "rising sun". Instead of directly tattooing her name on my body, again I prefer symbolism, so a sentence that incorporate the significance of her name was more my style.

2. My big inspiration and hero as far as writing and literature is concerned. Ernest Hemingway.  My two favorite novels, "For whom the bell tolls" and "The sun also rises" .... need I say more? (Read the statement again, you'll see it.... I merged the two titles)

3. I find it an inspiring phrase really.  For whom the sun also rises. That's me.
In addition to having my daughter and my literary inspiration embedded into it, it's a phrase of optimism for me. I always do try to find the silver lining, usually I do try to spot the sunshine when life hands you thunder storms. Hard to explain. But that's how it is.

Thor's Hammer. Mjolnir.

A lot of people when they heard I was going to have Mjollnir tattooed, asked if I was going to have lightning bolts shooting out from it. 
No. I didn't want lightning bolts. The hammer, on my back, represents other thing than lightning.  Everyone knows Thor's hammer causes thunder and lightning, so it's already implied.  But that wasn't my prime focus of the hammer.

1. The hammer represents the "good" side of the gods.  Yes, it represents Thor, but it also has connection to his father, Odin, to Thor's wife, Siv, it also represents the good side of Loki... because Loki wasn't purely evil. He was chaotic.

If you study the hammer more closely, you'll see that the top handle has the ram in it. You can see the horns curling around on top of the handle.
In the middle, there's an owl. You can see the beek and the eyes there if you look closely.  It's all part of an intricate pattern that is the hammer.  Just like me ;-) I'm made up of a very intricate pattern myself. hehe.


2. The hammer will hit anything Thor aims for.  It's an inspiration to keep reaching for my goals.  Aim for it, go for it, hit it. No matter what it is.  If it's weight loss, if it's a career goal, if it's something small like getting your car washed....  Aim for it and throw the hammer.
The hammer can level mountains (Mjolnir, I believe it means "crusher"). Yet, the hammer never flies so far away from Thor, that it couldn't find its way back.  That to me is a reminder to stay grounded, no matter where life takes you.

There are a lot of cool stories about Thor and the hammer out there, one of my favorite ones is called the "Trymskvida", in which the giant "Trym" steals the hammer from Thor, and he demands that Thor brings him Freya in exchange for getting his hammer back. Instead of bringing him Freya, the gods decide to dress Thor up as the bride and Loki was dressed up as Thor's bridesmaid.  It's quite comical to think of the two big manly gods dressed up as bride and bridesmaid, and the comical effect is heightened by the way they describe that "the bride" (Thor) eats an entire ox on her own during the wedding dinner.  Loki claims the bride eats so much because "she" has been so excited about the upcoming wedding and hasn't eaten at all for 7 days. 
Anyway, as a part of the wedding ceremony, Thor is handed the hammer and once it's back in his possession, he is able to strike down the giants and head home.

It is a fact a poem and I love it, it kind puts a fun spin on the otherwise serious and mighty gods, and here we do get a glimpse of the "good" Loki as he's helping Thor get his hammer back. (Of course, Loki had a hand in the hammer disappearing in the first place...)

Ok, so as you can see, the hammer carries a lot of significance to me, both purely physical and heritage wise, but also has a lot of symbolism attached.

The Midgard Serpent.

1. The Midgard Serpent represent the evil beings in Norse mytholgy, and Loki is also represented here as the Midgard Serpent is in fact Loki's offspring that he spawned with a giantess.

The serpent used to be named "Jormundgandr", but Odin tossed him in the ocean one day, and the serpent grew so large, he surrounded the world and could bite his own tail.  The saga has it that when he lets go of his tail, the world will end.
So he was named the "Midgard Serpent" (The World Serpent....).

2. The Serpent is Thor's arch enemy. There are several stories in which they encounter each other, trick each other and almost kill each other.

The story goes that at Ragnarok (the apocalypse, the end of the world), Thor will kill the Midgard Serpent, but then Thor wanders 9 steps and keels over and dies because he had been poisoned by the Midgard Serpent.

I found that including Thor's arch enemy in this tattoo felt "complete".  It's like a "yin and yang" of Norse mythology.
It's an odd balance. It's good and evil coexisting.   You can't have one without the other.

The tattoo, to me, feels complete.  Not only for all the symbolism that I personally have attached to it, but it also represents ME.  Anybody who knows me, knows that I'm a tomboy, I like gaming, I like RPGs and fantasy, so even if nobody knows anything about the symbolism behind my tattoo, they will still know that this tattoo is ME.


Finally, I want to tell everyone that Tattoo Alchemy is a GREAT place for tattoos!  Their portfolios are amazing (all of them), the atmosphere in there is like no other tattoo shop you've ever visited.  It's relaxing, non-intimdating, it's completely chill & I was SO comfortable there.  Everyone is really friendly, I will no doubt recommend them to others, hands down. 

I didn't even have a concrete vision when I walked in there.  I handed Peachy a couple of printouts of the hammer, of some serpents and of the runes and told her to "run with it" pretty much..... she did and it turned out so much more amazing that I had ever envisioned in my head.  She is fantastic!!! :))

Here are some pics from my tattoo experience.  Enjoy.

To me, there is so much significance in this tattoo, that not everything can really be explained.  I'm so happy I finally did this, and I'm 100% sure that when I turn 90 years old, I'll still be proud of my tattoo :)

My journey to self insight and to ♥ Bret Michaels ♥

I was reading through an old blog of mine .... and I found this writeup I did about Bret Michaels.

Most of you who know me, know that I'm a diehard Bret Michaels fan.

I was NOT surprised when he won the Celebrity Apprentice, I know how smart he is.  Without intellect, he would never have lasted this long in the business.

I wanted to move this blog over here, since this is now my main personal blog.  I'll probably write more about Bret.  He's my rock star. I love Bret. I see him at LEAST once a year, either via a Poison concert or a Bret Michaels solo concert.  Last year I was 2 feet away from him as he passed me in the hallway .... I froze up and was unable to get a peep out.  I was completely and utterly star struck.

Next time .... I'll be prepared!

So .... enjoy the read.... My journey to Bret Michaels ;-)

************************************

 

A couple of months ago, I completely revamped my iPod. I wiped it clean of all the music I had loaded on to it. Every song I no longer wished to listen to were left behind on my computer and I loaded all the songs I still hadn’t grown tired off on to my iPod, along with some new music. Once I took a glance at my new iPod, I realized how much my taste in music actually said about who I was and who I had become.

I’m going to dedicate this blog to my relationship with Bret Michaels. It’s a relationship that exists only in my head, and one that he most likely wouldn’t be very interested in, seeing as it would only involve talking.

To quote him from one of his songs: “I am good at one thing and believe me it ain’t talk!” (from “Look but You Can’t Touch”)

Growing up, my taste in music was pretty much influenced by three things: My parents, my peers and the radio.

In my family, my dad was mainly the one listening to music, so I grew up listening to his country music. I’d say my parents’ taste in music accounted for a 50% influence on my own taste in music.
As I grew older, my peers’ taste in music became a factor. I think however, that when I analyze the way I was back then, my peers’ taste in music only accounted for about 20% of my musical influence. Sure I may have pretended to like their music so I wouldn’t seem like such a country-music loving geek. I was a teenager after all and had no desire to stand out. I did enjoy a lot of that music though (hey I grew up in the 80s…what’s not to like...) but at the end of the day, when it came time for me and me alone to pick a tape to listen to (this was before CDs), I went back to country.
A third factor that I guess by logical math would account for about 30% of my taste in music would be the radio. The top hits, whatever was played over and over and over again on the radio, stuck to the brain until you couldn’t stop yourself from whistling these tunes or singing them in the shower because you just couldn’t clear them from your memory.
These songs were the very same ones that were played at school dances and fun functions I attended as a teen, so naturally a lot of fond (and some not so fond) memories became linked with the tunes so I cherish these songs for many reasons.

11 years ago, I moved from Norway to the United States and it opened up a whole new array of bands and musical talents that I had never listened to, or even heard of. Until then, I was familiar with the most popular hit songs which had made their way across the pond and had been played on the Norwegian radio, but there was a lot of music that never made it that far.
Luckily for me, I discovered that it is never too late to catch up.

My first real insight into the world of Bret Michaels happened when he appeared on Nashville Star as a judge one season. As a fan of country music, the world of rock was fairly unexplored by me, so Bret Michaels had a clean slate with me. I knew very little about him, about his “bad boy” past or about his being as a whole, but by the end of the season, I had become thoroughly fascinated by the man. Despite knowing nothing about him, I learned a lot just by listening to his comments & watching his general appearance on the show. From stories I’ve heard and articles I’ve read after the fact, I know that I got a fairly accurate perception of him.
One of the qualities that really made me like him was his uncanny ability to just be himself! It doesn’t seem like this is something that should require a lot of effort, but the truth is, it’s a quality that is sorely lacking in a lot of people. Bret stood out because he had this attitude of “Hey, this is who I am, take it or leave it.” Well, I took it.
During the course of the show, he also performed a few of his songs and I really liked what I heard. He wasn’t performing as Poison that time, he was singing songs from his solo albums.

Well, the show ended and Bret & I parted ways for a while. I had gotten to know him and I liked him but musically, I was still stuck in the past.

Then I discovered this addicting game called “Guitar Hero III” and I immediately fell in love with the song “Talk Dirty to Me”, even before I realized who was behind that song. Once I found out it was a Poison song, it was as if everything came full circle and I was hooked, not just on the song, but to Poison and to Bret Michaels. I started rifling through my husband’s CD collection to retrieve his old Poison CDs, and I quickly became a Poison addict, constantly craving more and more of their songs until I was in possession of them all. (I’m sure there may be some out there that I haven’t heard….)
Of course, I was already familiar with the biggest Poison hits, such as “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” and “Something to Believe In” because they did make it across the pond, but as I started listening to more of Poison’s albums, I discovered all these musical gems that had never been recorded on a “Greatest Hits” album. Most of these songs were written by Bret Michaels, some in cooperation with the rest of the band members.

As I started wandering through the world of rock, I discovered other great bands along the way, such as Motley Crue and Skid Row. Although their songs were catchy and really good, I found myself getting bored with their songs after listening to them a few times. To me, they lacked a depth and a lyrical diversity that I seemed to have found in Poison’s music. (I'm sure some people will disagree with me, and I would expect nothing else... Music is like tattoos, they mean something different to every single person.)

And yes, I know there are some tunes in the Poison discography that aren’t that great, but the blunders are few, the diamonds are many.
(Note: I’ve had the same Poison CD on “shuffle” in my car stereo for over a year now… It doesn’t get old.)

Once I had familiarized myself with Poison, I started delving into Bret’s solo work and found it to be just as good as his Poison work, maybe better. The man’s still got it, not just physically (because let’s face it, he’s sexy as hell), but also as an artist.
I find that Bret is a true bard in a modern sense of the word. He is a word smith, a lyricist and a musician and his solo songs are amazing. It seems like his current songs are more a part of him, they are more personal and it gives a greater insight as to who he is as an individual, where he came from and who his musical influences have been.

A couple of his songs brings up his bout with diabetes. Bret was just a child when they found out about his disease, and I can’t even imagine how heartbreaking and difficult and depressing that must have been. I knew a couple of kids from my childhood who had diabetes and it was no picnic for them (literally…). Back then, the only sugar free soda was Tab (Come on, all at once: Ewwwwwwww!) and sugar free cakes & candy were non-existent. Well, that’s not true. They had a couple of sugar free treats that tasted just as good as that pink-labeled black-colored watery drink they named Tab. For birthday parties and picnics, these kids could pretty much just sit and watch everyone stuff themselves with cake and soda. That has to be so tough on a kid. (Heck most adults would find that difficult….).

During this entire time though, throughout sex, drugs & rock’n roll, Bret has somehow managed to keep himself healthy & keep the disease at bay. Who knows, the diabetes may have been a factor as to why he’s still such a great artist and so talented, because no matter what he has done throughout his career as a rocker, the disease may have been lingering vaguely in the back of his mind throughout the journey.

However, as I said before, what I do admire the most about Bret Michaels is his bluntness and his ability to just be himself. He has no qualms about airing his dirty laundry for everyone to see. I remember this one article from an interview with a “Rock of Love” reject where they gossiped that his long hair is not his, they are hair extensions. Bret’s response was simply “Yes they are, I get the finest European hair that money can buy!” I just loved it. I mean…who cares? If I earned millions of dollars, I’d probably get the finest extensions money could buy too. And as for Bret’s bad-boy past, sure I know about it, I know it’s real but heck, he has never denied it. There are people out there who have done far worse things in life and who sit high and mighty upon their pedestals, their images are squeaky clean but their souls are not.

Despite being a Bret Michaels fan, I’m not a fan of “Rock of Love”. I’ve watched a couple of episodes, but it’s not my thing.
From what I can tell, “Rock of Love” has served as an advertising campaign for Bret Michaels. He has been able promote himself as a solo artist, so that people will look at him and think “Bret” instead of looking at him and thinking “Poison”. As far as I can tell, he has pulled this off. It’s a really brilliant business plan and Bret is an amazing salesman. And contrary to what he stated in the song I quoted above, I believe that he must be very good at talking because otherwise he wouldn’t have made is this far in his career.

So…

Gone from my iPod are all my country songs. (Well, I take that back. Bret has a few country songs that are very good, and they are still on there.) It’s kind of sad. It is as if I’ve said goodbye to a part of me that has kept me company most of my life. But then again, while the songs are gone, the memories are still there and they always will be.
I’ve just moved on is all. It feels as if I’ve finally found myself and the music taste I’ve developed is one that I have developed on my own, without caring about anybody’s input or influence.
The music I publically say that I love and the music I play when I’m on my own is finally the one and the same! That must be a good sign?

As far as Bret Michaels goes, I’m probably the only woman in the world who, if stranded on a deserted island with Bret, would spend the time talking with him. (I think I can hear him praying out loud right now….). Perhaps someday, I will write a biography.

Maybe someday, I too can find the courage to be myself. Perhaps the next time I waver between being true to who I am and being someone who other people want me to be, I should simply ask myself….


WWBD?

All photos in this blog was taken by me during a Poison concert
at the Universal Amphitheater in LA.

All I can say is.... Bret's still got IT! (They rocked!!)

Feeling good!

So I'm back to work. I won my battle. Well, my battle with work anyway.  I work from home 3 days a week now, and the workload has deliberately been withheld from me and I appreciate that very much.
I feel better than I have in a long time.  I feel a sense of relief. Not sure if it's the meds or just time passing, but thinking back, I'm all of a sudden not sure how long I've been depressed?  I can't ever remember feeling this light in the chest. I mean light as in I can breathe better, there's not a constant cloud of congestion hovering about in there.... my head seems clearer too, not so full of negative thoughts and stress. I'm not so nervous anymore, nor as socially awkward as I've felt in the past.

I'm probably talking about years. Though it's hard to imagine my life prior to Aurora's arrival, I still can't remember feeling this good or this good about myself as I'm feeling right now.
I know there will be dark clouds and rainy days, but I don't know, I feel like I can handle it better now.

Thinking back, dealing with this PPD has made me stronger in many ways. I feel more confident.  Having to go toe to toe with HR and fight for my right to get better while handling work was a nerve wrecking adventure, but the victory was sweet and gave me a boost of confidence.... no doubt this will give me more confidence to handle future battles as well, because I've tended to be somewhat of a wuss in the past.
Wuss/the quiet wheel who never got any grease..... that's just who I've been.  (And I guess at this point its appropriate to refer back to my post about being invisible....).

I know other factors is playing in on me feeling good too. I'm losing weight.  Last weigh-in showed 31 lbs down, only 19lbs to go before I get my tattoo. Yay.  Also, other life choices I have made lately have given me more confidence and I feel good about myself.


So now I'm wondering.... given that I feel this good .... is it the meds? Is it the therapy? Is it my current life?
Will I still feel good when the meds are taken away?  Time will tell I guess.  For some reason I"m suspecting that I've been needing this solid awakening for some time now.  Maybe the PPD got so severe because I may already have been slightly depressed.  Who knows these things?  How the heck do you know that you're depressed and that you're not just having a bad day?  I still don't know.

I'm almost afraid of letting go of the meds. Then again, I don't want to be an addict.  And I certainly don't want to take meds if I don't have to.  Not to mention.... I can't have any beers until the meds are gone.  If that's not an incentive for getting better.... and kicking the meds.... I don't know what is!

The problem with making friends

I have a few very good friends, and then I have a lot of them that I intentionally keep at an arm's length.
In fact, it can take people years to penetrate that fortress that is walling off my heart.

I like to blame it on my heritage.  Being Norwegian, I am from a "tribe" of people that is fairly cold and unfriendly and very difficult to get to know.  This IS true. My husband especially noticed it when we visited Norway a couple of times, that most Norwegians keep their distance and are difficult to get to know... unless they've had a couple of drinks.  I guess that's why pubs are such a popular past time activity in Norway.  It's how we work up the courage to socialize!

BUT.... I can't put all the blame on my Norwegian heritage. I really can't. I have to own up to some of this myself.  Although identifying that Norwegians are in general like that is a nice step for me, because it means I'm aware of it and if I choose to do so, I can probably work on this and make it less of a factor.
"If I choose to do so" is the key sentence here.

When I was 12, my parents uprooted my entire family and we moved from the West Coast of Norway to the eastern part of Norway. I know most of you Americans think that could only be a 30 minute drive, but no, it's a lot longer than that.  More like a couple of days' drive (unless you don't plan on sleeping the entire time.... then you can probably make it in 12 hours or so...).
So there I was, twelve years old, leaving all my friends and everything I'd ever known, heading into a new school, a new place.... not knowing a soul.   The thing about Norway is.... very few people move.   Most people stay in one spot for generations.... so kids grow up with family, they grow up with friends of their families.... in short, they don't really need anybody new to come in.  It's really difficult to break in to any type of a friends group.  Sure, I made friends but they always had somebody that were closer, somebody that they'd hung out with from the time they were babies, so I always felt like the outsider and the 3rd wheel.  After a few years, I did make a couple of good friends that I hung out with and that I consider my best friends. 

Then.... college time. In Norway there are only 4 universities, so if a person wants to go to college, you pretty much have to move. Again. Now.... I was HAPPY to get out of the city we moved to when I was 12.  I had never really thrived there, I just went through the motions to get done with school and at first chance, I was out of there. (I should mention that at 17 I went to the US for 1 year....and LOVED it. I made a lot of good friends there.... and although I did my very very best to stay in touch with them, those ties eventually wore down because I've discovered that most people aren't as eager or as good as keeping in touch as I am. Or as I used to be.... I think I eventually gave up on trying to staying in touch with people.... What's the point, if nobody ever writes back in return?)

Anyway, I went to college.  8 hours away by train. So obviously I moved out and away.  At this point, I had already given up on making good friends.  My theory was that they'll all go away again at some point, so why bother opening up to people in the first place.   So I was social. And I did make a lot of friends.  But only on the outside. I did have a couple of boyfriends, both ended with breakups, one actually cheated on me so if that doesn't totally blow the concept of being close with somebody straight out of the water, I don't know what does. 

Then I met my husband. Online. For some reason, I eventually let him into my heart. Maybe it was because I thought since he was so far away (in California), nothing would ever happen and we'd never be friends in real life.... so I didn't see any danger in opening up to him, I didn't see it as making a true friend.... And guess what, I ended up marrying the guy and 13 years later, we're having a wonderful marriage, and he knows everything about me.

Moving to California though.... once again I broke ties... not only with friends this time, but with family too.  It was by choice.  My last moves had been by choice. But at this point, my friends theory had pretty much been confirmed in my mind..... all friends separate eventually .... so what's the point of making any?
For every friend I make that ends up moving away.... it reconfirms my theory.  So for each friend that moves away, I become less likely to make any new ones. 

There have been plenty of opportunities for me to make friends here, but I've been standoffish and I know it.  People WANT to make friends with me, but I'm not letting them be my friends.
On the flip side, I'm a really good friend to others.  They let ME in, and I never violate this privilege. I'm generous, I always remember birthdays and special days. I'm always there if they need to talk about things, and I never EVER pass any confessions or private information along, not even to my husband, with whom I pretty much share everything.  I'm genuinely a good friend to other people.  But I don't let anybody be a good friend to me.

So...what the hell? I don't deserve good friends? I think I do?

With the self analysis I've made here, and posted, I think I can maybe fix this. I need to somehow change my thinking regarding separating from friends.  It can't possibly be healthy going through life not making friends because I "know" they will eventually disappear.  Is there any way I can focus on the value of their friendship while they are HERE? So that if they do end up moving away.... I'll have the good memories, but not focus so much on the disappearance of the friend.

I need to work on this. I really do.  And to friends who read this .... feel free to help me along the way.  Especially now that i'm open to it.

Depression - The Invisible Disease

I'm having some conflicts with work.  I'm about to return from my leave.  My depression is still here, but it's being dealt with.  I'm not going into specifics regarding the conflict, but all in all, I feel that I'm not being taken seriously.  Is there anybody out there with depression who feels that way too?
I mean, I don't have a big fancy scar to show off.... I don't have any broken bones or a body cast.
(I think a body cast would be most appropriate for depression... it pretty much affects your whole body from top to toe....).  It's all on the inside.  I feel like because it's not visible, it leaves people in a state of disbelief, they don't quite grasp the concept that I'm actually sick.  It's frustrating.  What do I have to do, start injuring myself to prove a point?  Is this where people start cutting themselves? So that their problems can be show on the outside and maybe THEN someone will believe that there is a problem? (Don't worry, I won't go that far....)

At first, I had problems grasping it myself, that this actually is a disease. I felt like a phoney in the beginning too, because I didn't feel sick in a way that I'm used to... i.e no fever, no stomach pains (well, nerves but nothing else), no sore throat.... The usual "sick" symptoms were missing. 
It finally sunk in when my doctor sat down, looked me in the eyes and said: "Depression is a serious disease. There is nothing you can do. It's hormonal, it will pass but you're not crazy."
I even broke out in tears in his office at this statement, I guess I realized it myself that I may have suspected that I was a little nutty... or maybe I released some of that guilt I've been feeling for being sick. Or rather for NOT feeling physically sick.... getting the confirmation that "Yes, you are sick" from the doctor was a relief of sorts.

So... is it unrealistic of me to expect others to take it seriously, when it took me this long?  I think yes.... especially in a professional environment where they have my doctor's notes to verify that yes, I'm not well.
Again.... it comes back to no physical injuries. I feel it's unfair.  But hey.  That's life.

I'm dealing with it.

Negative Thoughts - "I'm Boring"

Ok, so due to my PPD, I have been seeing a therapist and it's not as bad as anticipated.  I mean, most people will rather die than call a therapist for help.  God forbid word should get out that you're a lunatic....  Well, I hate to disappoint you, I'm not a lunatic, I'm a normal person who need some tools so I can *stay* normal and refrain from becoming a lunatic..... :-)

I received some assignments that were pretty eye opening.  Analyzing my negative self thoughts and figure out how they affect my life, then trying to negate the negative thought with a positive one.  I did the assignment, but I felt a lot of these negative thoughts needed more attention than simply being negated.  They have been whirling around in my head ever since I put them down on paper, so why don't I start flushing them out here in my blog and see where I end up.

There were TWO assignments related to putting down negative thoughts, and there is ONE negative thought that is on top of both lists. Is that a coincidence? Probably not.

The negative thought that seems to be #1 is this one: I am boring / I am not interesting.

Ok, so this is completely false. I have a very unique life, I have a very interesting backstory, both culturally since I am from another country and actually moved to the USA as a grownup, and I also have an interesting story as to how I met my husband.  In addition to that, there are plenty of things that are unique about me... I play the tuba.  How many girls can say that?  Only a handful, I know.  I love big rigs, in fact, I have an active blog about big rigs.  How many girls are interested in big rigs? Not many.  I work in the IT field.  Not many women work in the IT field, and although I personally don't find this very exciting, I know that a lot of IT guys do.  Go figure.  I love playing video games, RPGs, Xbox... you name it. Interesting to some people, boring to some... (hey, you can't please everybody).

I guess the key is.... nobody will know this about me unless I tell them. And why don't I tell them this to prove to them that I'm not boring?  Because I don't like talking about myself a lot.   Why don't I like talking about myself? Because in the past, I've strived very hard at remaining invisible...and blending in with the general crowd. 

As a kid, I was bullied a lot. There was one point during my childhood where I was eager to raise my hand in class and talk about my weekend, but at some point this all stopped and I quit speaking out alltogether.
There was a point in my life where I decided that it would be better to remain invisible, rather than risking drawing attention to myself which would give someone a reason to bully me or tease me in any way.
And when I set out to do something, I do a thorough job.  I'm not sure how well it worked for what it was intended for.  Somehow the bullies seemed to find me after all.  At the time I felt like a target, but as you grow up you come to realize that you're not their only target.  They pick on everybody.  Still, there are traces of that behavior that is affecting me today, and being invisible is still something I'm very good at doing.

I want to change. I really don't want to be invisible anymore.  I want people know what an exciting person I am. I have to get over that hump and ignore those voices in my head that tell me I'm not interesting. I suppose I just have to yell loud enough to drown them out?  Don't know. 
It's hard to change on a dime. I'm not going to all of a sudden be a new person today. But I can start the alteration process.  I guess with this blog, that is a step in the right direction, trying to realize why I behave the way I do.

I was considering making this journal private, but what the heck.  If my thought process can help someone else, that would be cool.  Others may see themselves and recognize themselves here... and heck, I need practice talking about myself anyway, so here it is!  It's all about me!

"Through the Fog" - A tale of Post Partum Depression

It's the "ssssssssssssh" disease.  It's the disease Tom Cruise was making fun of..... but he certainly is no comedian.  It's an invisible disease, unfortunately it doesn't cause any limbs to rot and fall off or anything so most people won't even know you are suffering from it. And to top it all of, it makes you into such a wonderful actress, putting on smiles and good humor for your surroundings, despite the fact that in your soul, there is no joy at all.

I had read about port partum depression (ppd) before, but of course, nobody ever expects it to happen to them.  However, when after 2-3 months after having my daughter, I still didn't feel right, I started to analyze my symptoms more closely.   Although I wasn't feeling suicidal, which is the extreme case of ppd, and I did love my daughter, there were other symptoms there that were clearly ppd related.  However, I kept doubting myself, thinking "nah, this is normal" or "nah, I'm probably just imagining things".
To paint a picture, it felt like I was swimming underwater and I was unable to ever reach the surface to come up for air.  It's like being in a fog of sorts.  Crying for no reason.  Having a very VERY short fuse.  Having no energy to do much at all, and when it comes time to get up and do something, it takes almost an entire day to charge up the "battery" and it drains very fast.  Looking into the future and seeing nothing positive.  Basically all I'm seeing is a big brick wall of nothingness.  And.... I am not feeling suicidal, HOWEVER ....... I can tell you that the thought of dieing, at my lowest point, was not as scary and devastating to me as it should have been.  Humor - sure, it was there. On the outside.  In reality, my emotions were just logical responses to what I was seeing or hearing.  The logical side of me would tell me it was time to laugh because someone told a funny joke, and sure, I laugh.... on the outside.  On the inside, not so much.  Dead.  I'm a walking zombie of myself.

I didn't even know where to start as far as treatment. Being "sick in the head" is not something you announce from the mountain tops.  Except, it really should be.  I finally worked up my nerve and called my ob/gyn.  BEST call I EVER made.  He put me on some medication, and then referred me to my family doctor for further treatment. My doctor added another medicine to my stash, and I was starting to feel better.
One big clue that I was starting to feel better was that I was actually getting hungry!  Much like the laughter described above, eating food had also been a charade that I performed.... my body needed nutrition. So I ate.  But I hadn't really felt hunger.  So when I started feeling hungry again, I knew things were looking up.

Then.... it was return to work time.  Guess what. PPD came slamming back, with force. Knocked me back almost all the way to the beginning.  At first, I figured it was just a natural mother-baby separation anxiety, and I expected it to go away, but it didn't budge.  Again with the self doubts.... "Am I really feeling this way or am I imagining it?"  Again I had to talk myself into calling the doctor. You would've thought that after the relief I felt last time after having called them, I would jump at the chance to call again, but no.  After all, I wanted to be better.  But I wasn't. I was slipping backwards and the fog came back.   It felt as if every time I was close to emerging from this fog, stress and work would knock me back down before I even had a chance to take a deep, clean breath of air.  Again I was split into two people, without being schizophrenic, it was "logical me" who was kind of a puppetmaster for the "physical me" .... pulling my strings so that I could go through the day, do my job.... and I'm not sure how I did my job in my condition.  I just did.
The scary part is the commute.  I have a 45 minutes (or longer) commute and I would zone out somewhere and not "wake up" again until I was almost home.  I shudder to think of the state of auto pilot I have been driving on, not only at work but IN TRAFFIC with other cars... on the freeway.  Obviously I'm fine, I didn't get into any accidents.  (That tells you a little something about how strong your psyche is, doesn't it?).
But this is freaky.

I went back to the doctor and he put me on sick leave. He also changed my medication and suggested counseling, something that I am considering now.  I realize I may need some tools to deal with this, I can't figure it out on my own.  And I don't want to get worse, I hate it here in the fog.  I wanna see the blue skies again.

I said earlier that this is a disease that you don't go shouting from the mountain tops about, yet here I am, blogging away for the world to see.... both unknown people, as well as friends and family.  Well ... first of all ... I'm hoping this post could reach women who may need this push, or this post, in order to figure out what they are suffering from (or that they ARE suffering in the first place...).... Also, I have to get over the stigma of having emotional problems.  (In fact, this is a chemical/hormonal imbalance, not just psychological). I guess there is no better way to get over that stigma than to do exactly what I said I wouldn't do.... SHOUT from the mountain tops!  

Depression is very, very serious.  It's a medical condition, and there is nothing wrong with you. (or me). It's no fun at all.  It's taking away good times that you can spend with your family in those early baby months.
So if you do recognize yourself here...... and you haven't dealt with it yet .... pick up the phone & contact your OB or your family doctor.   They'll take it from there.

Happy Trails everybody.

Being on the Atkins diet.... without suffering ;-)

Ok, so we've been counting calories and granted we have been dropping some pounds, it seemed to become somewhat stagnant after awhile.  So ... we turned to the old reliable.... Atkins!! Low carb (not NO carb) diet, which was responsible for an 80 lbs loss back in its heyday (and although some of it crept back on throughout the years, I never did regain all of those 80 lbs, so it's not true that you always gain back what you lost & more....)

So, we restocked our pantries and now had to start remembering what we used to eat and where we used to go when we wanted to eat out.    Atkins also inspires a lot of creations in the kitchen, because if you don't want to get sick of protein, you want to get creative!
Luckily, the low carb selection at the stores now is vastly expanded and a lot greater than it used to be.   Thanks to Walden Farms, who have a LOT of really great products such as 0 carb chocolate spread, 0 carb strawberry jam, 0 carb apple butter...... etc.


Anyway.... below are some photos of my lunch.  Does it look like I'm suffering?

Here we have 2 (or however many you can pile on, as these are 0 carbs) Oscar Mayer Cheesy dogs, wrapped up in a Mission low carb tortilla, topped with low carb ketchup, 0 carb thousand island and 0 carb jalapeno peppers.... nom, nom!  Overall carb count: 5 (4 from tortilla, and about 1 from ketchup)

And I can have dessert! As much as I want if I do it right ;-)

What you see here is my personal concoction: a couple of spoonfuls of Walden Farm's Apple Butter, topped with whipped cream, a couple of chopped macadamia nuts AND ... last but NOT least (the most important player in this concoction).... the CINNAMON! (Takes the edge off the "sugar free" taste that sometimes comes through in these 0 carb fruit spreads)

Another shot of my yummalicious dessert.  mmm .... I want some more.

Carbs? Around 2. If that.

The average moviegoer's review: Battle: LA(ME)

Note: If you are planning on seeing this movie, be warned there may be some spoiler alerts.... although these are mainly my opinions on what I saw ....

Battle: LA

Ok, so here is how I imagine the idea for this movie was born:

Place: Local bar somewhere in Burbank
Time of day: 5 o'clock ... wait, make that 8pm .... I'm assuming this level of creativity requires a minimum of 3 (very) Happy Hours.
Main characters: some producers (P) and his loyal and hungry-for-success companions (C1, C2 etc)

P: Dude, it took me like 3 hours to drive down the 405 this morn.
C1: Yeah duuude! Cheers!
P: Man I hate LA sometimes.
C2: Yeah duuude! Cheers!
P: Sometimes I wish I could just blow LA to pieces so I'd have the entire freeway to myself.
C1 & C2: yeah dooooooh!! Cheers!!!
P: Oh wait! Movie idea! LA! On fire! Everywhere! Bombs going off! Freeways... oh man

*P grabs a beer stained napkin and starts scribbling*

C1: And you could have....like....some cool Marine dudes runnin' around, saving peeps!
C2: Yeah! And make sure they have cool guns!
P: "Marines....guns...." .... Lots of explosions! LOTS OF EXPLOSIONS!! We'll BLOW UP LA!! God I'm gonna be so famous!!!
C1: Hell yeah!!! Hey, maybe they could fight some local gang bangers....
P: No no no..... no .... nobody would pay millions....it's gotta be big, it's gotta be awesome.,.... it's gotta be ... *scribbles frenetically* ..... aliens *drool coming out the side of his mouth* ...
C2: Dude, don't forget some emotional crap.
P: Oh yeah, good thought... *scribbles* ... "Remember emotional crap" ... Chicks dig that stuff.
C1: And dead bodies dude! Lots of'em ....
P: Dead bodies... good one.  Hey, can I have another beer here? *snaps fingers* We're on a roll .....

Ahh..... my head hurts, I don't wanna spy in on these goofballs anymore. (Damnit, END SCENE already!)

So ... let's just point out a couple of things I had issues with during this movie....

*Sloooooow for an action movie. I mean.... come on. It's an ACTION movie. Stop following these guys around with a wobbly movie camera and get to the fun stuff!
*Emotional crap .... was exactly that . Crap. I get it... they threw in some scenes so we'd have an emotional connection with these marines but they failed miserably .... I could care less when people blew up in this movie.  Orphans, widows .... dead comrades. Sorry. I'm not a cold hearted bitch, these things would normally move me in a movie.... if done right.   Here.... they just seemed like fillers.
So.... it literally felt like the "emotional crap" was thrown in there as an afterthought.
(Not to mention these emotional plots were painstakingly obvious.... I could pretty much point out who was gonna die the very moment I saw them....)
*Big cool advanced alien dudes have the crappiest aim ever.  Ok so.... without giving away much... there's this "chase scene" (big exaggeration) where all these people are on a bus, chased by one of these mechs......  This mech seems to be hitting every single car on the street.... EXCEPT for the BIG BRIGHT ORANGE BUS that's sitting SMACK DAB in the middle of the street.   Ok .... so maybe these advanced cool critters are color blind or something.... maybe something is wrong with their vision so they can't see buses.
*Big cool advanced dudes can be taken down with a 9mm.  I mean.... the fact that they could take them down with those machine guns in the first place was a little out there, but ok, I could live with it... but...uhm.... what's up with the pistol.... "Bang, bang..... you're dead...."
*Main Character.... Aaron Eckhart.... normally a good actor that I like very much... in this movie, he was very very wrong. I couldn't find any sympathy in my heart for this character at all.  I get it, he's a "rough around the edges but soft heart" kinda dude.... They really needed someone with a slightly rougher edge to play this role.... Like Mickey Rourke. I think he would've been awesome.
*Funny coincidence.... one of the VERY FEW survivors happens to be a vet ... (veterinarian, not veteran) .... and that HAPPENS to come in very handy .... man.... The gods were smiling down on these guys when they found this veterinarian.... they would still be sitting there, shooting at the wrong alien body parts!
*Where were all the cool movie graphic scenes????? Based on the previews, I expected more.
*Why would anybody run up to an alien (that they know nothing about) ... when said alien is spewing fluids from hoses and limbs, their surroundings are completely engulfed in flames.... uh .... dude.... what if those fluids were gasoline or other explosive chemicals?  Not a smart move.
I'm starting to wonder how this guy managed to stay alive this long in his career.
*Also .... I didn't like the way they portrayed the Marines.  I have the deepest, most profound for Marines and any armed forces of the USA.  But in this movie, they seemed like machines more than human beings, and were portrayed as if it was their duty to go out there and die.  I guess this was partially to blame on the lack of emotional attachment to any of them .... the "emotional crap" failure... but it seemed more like "machines vs machines" rather than "humans vs aliens" (or mechs or whatever you want to call them).
*Where did those missiles in the end come from?  Did MacGyver create those from scratch during the couple of hours that went by between 19:30, when the bombs were supposed to be dropped, and the end of the movie?   And if it was NOT MacGyver who stepped in with his rubber bands and needle & thread capabilities..... and they infact already had those missiles.... why didn't they fire those at 19:30 hours?

I could say a lot more but I can't bare reliving anymore of this movie in my head right now.

Go back to the bar you came from, and for god's sake P... next time, throw away that napkin!

Live bait, cheese puffs & mosquito bites.

I was rummaging through my collection of short stories to find one I'd like to post here in my blog.  I've got quite a few to choose from, but when I stumbled across this one.... I knew it was the one!

This is a story based on true facts! I wrote it for a contest way back when... I think it was "Chicken soup for the fisherman" or something like that.... Didn't win anything.  That doesn't matter though, because I've got a vivid memory on paper, and although I'll always remember these times, it's nice to read it once in awhile for a chuckle. 

My brother and I often discuss our fishing trips that we used to go on now and then..... our discussions ususally end up with both of us crying with laughter because our fishing trips were quite the spectacle.   No wonder we never caught any fish.

Anyway .... The following short story is based on real events.... and it's not embellished one bit ;-)
(I'm fairly sure my brother will attest to that)

So let's go fishing....


Live bait, cheese puffs & mosquito bites.

The sun threatened to disappear, and the full moon was ready to start its nightshift. I heard rocks pop underneath our tires as we drove down the gravel road. I could see the lake. My brother and I were excited about the prospects of catching our first fish.
“I’ll get the biggest fish,” he said and I just laughed and shrugged. I knew I would catch more fish than he would, and they would probably all be bigger than his catch.

As the car stopped, we unbuckled our seatbelts, flew out of the car, pulled out our brand new fishing rods and the bag of cheese puffs and a thermos of hot chocolate that we were looking forward to share while waiting for our first fish.
We approached the lake, found a nice spot to settle down at, and dad started teaching us how to assemble our fishing rods. He reached into his fishing bag and pulled out a box.
“It’s time for you to bait your hook,” he grinned as he popped the lid off, revealing a pile of squirming earthworms. I watched in horror as my brother bravely stuck his hand into the box and pulled out one of the critters. It was so slimy; he dropped it several times, before he finally was able to nail it with the hook.
He sent me a triumphant look that said: “I bet you’re too girly to touch these worm.”
Hah! I would show him!
Determined to do this, I shoved my hand into the container. I tried not to notice the cold, wet worm that was now squirming around in the palm of my hand. I grabbed the hook and quickly impaled the beast. I concentrated really hard to hold back my emotional outbursts as worm feces were squirting out of both its ends and all over my hand. However, I had proven my point!

It was time to go fishing!

Dad showed us how to throw.
“Looks easy,” I said and picked up my fishing rod.
Confidently I pulled the pole back and yanked my arms forward, listening for that “plop” in the water as my bobber hit the surface.
There was no plop.
I was brought back to reality and I realized that my hook and my line had not yet hit the water.
How far had I thrown this thing?
I heard my brother giggle as he pointed to my fishing line, which strangely enough had defeated gravity and stood straight up into the air.
“You realize that the fish is in the water, and not up in that tree,” my father calmly informed me while trying to unhook my fishing pole from the branches of the big tree that miraculously had appeared behind me.

I could have sworn I didn’t see a tree there before!

After 10 minutes of detangling my line and re-baiting the hook, I proudly threw my hook into the water. It didn’t fly as far as my dad’s did, but I was proud of the distance I managed to throw it. My brother had already had his hook in the water for 10 minutes, luckily though, he still hadn’t gotten a bite.

We watched our bobbers with excitement. If either of them moved just a little, we’d spring to our feet, hold our breath and be deathly quiet, then sit back down a few moments later, realizing it was the waves that were moving the bobber up and down.
My mind wandered to the cheese puffs and the hot chocolate, wondering when we would get to dig into the snacks. My brother and I exchanged looks, silently debating over which one of us should bring it up, when my dad saved us both the trouble as he grabbed our bag and started delegating snacks.
I was consuming my third cheese puff, when all of a sudden my bobber went under water.
I held my breath, waiting for it to appear again, but it didn’t.
“Dad!” I whispered.
He finished pouring his coffee and it felt like years passed by before he finally screwed the top back on to his thermos and came over.
“Look, my bobber is gone!”
It was really hard to whisper. I was so excited.
“So it is,” he calmly said and I grabbed my pole ready to reel in my big catch.
“Not yet." So he said.
What do you mean not yet???? I felt like screaming, I was hopping from one foot to another, deathly afraid that the fish would escape, not knowing at the time that this was exactly why we were waiting a few extra minutes.
“Looks like it’s on really tight, I don’t see the bobber at all,” my dad said. “I guess you can start reeling him in.”
I started working the reel. It got extremely heavy and I handed it over to my dad.
“Must be a big one,” I said, ignorantly unaware of the grin on dad’s face as he violently jerked the fishing rod around.
“What are you doing, we’re gonna lose the fish!” I said and tried to grab the pole back.
“Wait and see,” my dad said as the pole finally seemed to get lighter, and my dad reeled in the rest of the line.
“Congratulations, you just pulled out half the bottom of this pond.”
I gave my brother the evil eye, which didn’t stop him from rolling around on the ground, laughing hysterically at the big muddy lump of weeds that was attached to my fishhook.
I grumbled as I went back to the bucket of worms, dug a couple of them up, baited my hook like a pro and threw it back in.

As I waited for that fish to bite, I started noticing my surroundings. It was quiet tonight. I heard an occasional splash out on the lake. Bugs were buzzing by, making me slightly nervous, as I couldn’t see what it was. A mild breeze gently swept across my face, playing with my hair, and it was at that moment I realized that fishing wasn’t about how many fish I caught or who got the biggest fish. Fishing was about this whole experience, about sitting there, waiting in excitement for something to maybe bite on to my hook, being out here in the wilderness, enjoying scenery around me that people are too busy to even notice.
It was about spending quality time with my family, quality time that made such an impression that today, 20 years later, I’m writing a story about it.

Going home, my brother and I sat in the backseat, making up stories about the fish that got away, so we’d at least have something to tell people about our first fishing trip. My dad glanced at us in his rearview mirror and shook his head, and I stopped in the middle of our tale, looked at my brother and said:

“I think we’ll just say we didn’t get any fish.”

We exchanged looks and I knew he had come to the same conclusion as me.
We stared out the window as we drove home, already dreaming about our next fishing trip.
“But next time… I’ll get the biggest fish,” he said.
“I’ll get more fish than you,” I replied and grinned.

Our first fishing trip.
We grew up a little that night.

A newfound respect for Gnocchi!

Another culinary evening took place last night, and the theme of the night was Italian food!

I had the brilliant idea that we ought to try making out own pasta, and since neither of us have any pasta attachments for making spaghetti or other types, I suggested gnocchi. (Apparently there is a tool for making gnocchi as well,  but it wasn't needed in order to get the gnocchis made...).

For an appetizer, we chose to make baked mozzarella sticks with a very improvised marinara, as we both forgot about the marinara sauce until it was time to eat.... ;-)   Our main course was gnocchi with alfredo sauce and for dessert, we had a tiramisu planned.

BAKED MOZZARELLA STICKS

First up was the mozzarella sticks.  Let me first present you with the recipe we used:

1 package mozzarella string cheese (we used the light ones)
2 tbsp Flour

2 large egg whites, lightly beaten
1 cup dried bread crumbs (alternatively you can use cracker crumbs, cornflake crumbs or panko bread crumbs...)
Salt & Pepper
Marinara sauce for dipping (which we forgot..)

1. Place the cheese strings in the freezer at least 1 hour before you plan to make these. These will lessen the oozing of the cheese. Preheat oven to 400ºF.

2. Place the flour, egg whites and crumbs in 3 separate dishes. Season the flour with salt and pepper. Cut the cheese strings in 1/2 widthwise. Dip one cheese stick at a time into the flour to coat, then into the egg whites and then the crumbs. Dip it into the egg again and then the crumbs again, squeezing to help them adhere. It'll be messy, but try to cover the cheese completely. Place on a cookie sheet lined with parchment or sprayed with cooking spray. Repeat with all of the cheese.

3. Bake for 10 to 15 minutes, until golden.

Serve immediately with warmed marinara sauce.

Ok, so first of all, I recommend using plain crumbs without any seasoning in them. I don't know if the light mozzarella strings had more salt in them than the regular ones do (it's possible), but our mozzarella sticks, although they were tasty, were a little on the salty side.  Next time I won't be salting the flour, we will be using the entire egg not just the eggwhites for coating and we'll monitor the salt content better.

This was a very messy food to make, as you had to dip it in egg, then crumbs, then eggs again and THEN back in the crumb tray.  By the end of it, my fingers had more coatings of breadcrumbs on them than the mozzarella sticks did.  

We had forgotten about the marinara sauce, so we made an impromptu version.  We took a can of tomatoes and put it in the blender with some Italian seasoning and fresh basil.  It turned out pretty good for being improvised like this.  We also tried dipping the mozzarella sticks in salsa, and surprisingly enough, that did taste very good so it's a nice option if the marinara sauce somehow is forgotten.

Here are the covered mozzarella sticks, before baked.

After they came out of the oven, they looked like this and apart from being slightly salty, they tasted delicious and definitely warrants a second try (and more).  Love that we were able to bake them, thereby making them a little healthier than the fried ones.

GNOCCHI

Next up were the gnocchis & the alfredo sauce, and let me tell you, it was a good thing we had already fed everyone some mozzarella sticks already, because this gnocchi took some time.

Our recipe was one we found on Food Network, posted by Tyler Florence, and here it is:

2 pounds (about 4) baking potatoes, like russets

1 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1 egg white

1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

Directions

1. Pierce the potatoes several times so that moisture can escape during baking. Bake the potatoes in a preheated 400 degrees F oven for 1 hour until fork tender.

2. Peel the potatoes while they are still hot and press them through a potato ricer.
(Note: we didn't have a potato rices, so we used a cheese grater instead, which worked really well!)

3. Put the potatoes in a large bowl with salt, baking powder, and egg white. Add the flour a little at a time and mix with your hands until the mixture forms a rough dough. Do not over-work the dough.

4. Transfer the dough to a lightly floured surface. Gently knead the dough for 1 or 2 minutes until smooth, adding a little bit more flour, if necessary, to keep it from sticking.


5. Break off a piece of the dough and roll it back and forth into a rope, about the thickness of your index finger. Cut the rope into 1-inch pieces. Gently roll each piece down a wooden gnocchi board while pressing a small dimple with your finger. The gnocchi should be slightly curved and marked with ridges. This will allow the pillows to hold sauce when served.


6. Boil the gnocchi in batches in plenty of salted water. The gnocchi are done about 2 minutes after they float to the surface, remove with a slotted spoon, and serve.
If not cooking immediately, place the gnocchi in a single layer on a baking pan dusted with flour. Cover with ;plastic wrap and refrigerate for up to 12 hours.


Note: If the gnocchi start to feather and fall apart in boiling water, you need more flour. If the gnocchi don't float after 2 minutes and are hard, you used too much flour. 

Ok, so cooking and peeling the potatoes, no problems there. I'm Norwegian and one thing Norwegians know how to do, it's peeling potatoes.... it's right up there with skis & beer & aqua vita what tradition is concerned.   We didn't have a potato ricer (not did I know what it was.... but we asked someone who knows Italian food what the consistency of the potato would be like after going through a potato ricer, and we found that it would be about the same as if we used a cheese grater on it.  So we did, and that worked great.   The only advice I have if using a cheese grater, is to make sure that if any larger lumps break off the potato and fall into the mix, make sure to mash those chunks with a fork, because you don't want any lumps of potato in the gnocchi mix.

Little by little we added the flour and kneaded the dough as if it was a bread dough.  As the recipe does NOT offer a solution should the gnocchi dough end up with too much flour in it, we were very careful with the flour.  We figured that we'd essentially be screwed if too much flour ended up in the dough.  So to be sure, we broke off a small piece of the dough and made 5 gnocchis which we cooked, just to see if they would be "feathery" or if they would not rise to the surface.   The gnocchis behaved like good gnocchis should, they rose and were cooked perfectly.  Not bad!!
The only gnocchi that had a problem rising to the surface, was one that had a chunk of potato in it (ergo make sure to mash those lumps if you see them), but that also eventually rose to the top, but tasted slightly more "potatoey" than the rest of them.

Also, we didn't have a gnocchi board, so we just dented the gnocchis a little with our fingers and used a fork to make some stripes on the back.  In fact, after a few gnocchis had been made, we dropped the fork indents as well and we just made a dent in the gnocchi with our fingers and left it at that.  That turned out just fine!
It takes a long time to make gnocchi!  This was a pretty large serving, we were cooking for 6 people.  We were rolling, cutting and denting our hearts out, the entire counter was filled with little gnocchis waiting to be cooked, and we thought we'd never see the end of it.   We both had a newfound respect for gnocchi by the time we were done, and we now understand why not a whole lot of restaurants are serving it... (and when they do, it costs a little more...). Gnocchis are a lot of work!

BUT .... it was worth it and I'll do it again! The end result was fantastic! There was a HUGE difference in the taste between these gnocchis that were made from scratch and the ones we buy in the stores.  They tasted fantastic, so fresh, and we all ate a lot more than we should have.

We served it with an alfredo sauce (I'm not going to post a recipe, you can serve gnocchi with any types of sauces.... meat sauce, marinara...alfredo, pesto... just pick your favorite pasta sauce & go with it). In the alfredo sauce, we had added about 1/2 bag of a pea/carrot mix and some ham, just to have some protein and veggies in there to cut all the starch.  It tasted sooo good and despite the work that went into the gnocchi, I'm all set for doing it again.  Maybe I'll even look into getting a gnocchi board, who knows... it may help the process.

This is what the gnocchi looks like.... pre-gnocchi!

Here are our "test" gnocchis as they float to the top in the pot.

Here's a piece of the "sausage", from which I cut and shaped the gnocchis you see on the plate.
 

Our cooked "pride and joy" gnocchis!  None of them were rubbery, they ALL floated to the surface and none were feathery ... I'm quite impressed actually, it being our virgin gnocchis and all ...

Here's our alfredo sauce w/the added ham & peas/carrots

  

Gnocchi & Alfredo sauce, ready to eat!

Plated..... ladies and gentlemen, pick up your forks....


... and go for it!

After we consumed more than our share of gnocchi & alfredo sauce.... it was time for dessert.   The dessert, oddly enough, was the easiest to make.   So here's a riddle for you:

What do you get when you layer ladyfingers soaked in coffee & a mascarpone cream filling, then drizzle cocoa on top?

Ladyfingers .... soaked in coffee .... + mascarpone cream .... =

Tiramisu!!!

 

Can you say yum?

Yum!

The tiramisu came out great, although it was a LITTLE heavy on the coffee.... I think in the future, we may cut the coffee with some milk to balance the taste a little bit, but don't get me wrong .... it tasted good, and we ALL had seconds!!

Our Italian night went great, I say we did 3 for 3, all entrees came out great and all entrees are something I'd love to do over again.  Definitely a success!

Are you hungry yet?  ;-P



A trip to Pink's in Hollywood!

Ok... let it just be said that you cannot go to Pink's and expect to be "good" when it comes to what you order.  If you just eat the hotdog and a bun, sure, that is not so bad.  But no matter how much you're planning to get ONLY a hotdog on a bun, by the time you reach the counter at Pink's, you will have changed your mind. About everything.  Including the promise you made to yourself regarding not ordering the chili cheese fries.

I'm currently on a diet, I eat between 1200 and 1500 calories a day.  I allow myself one cheat day a week, and this week it was supposed to be Valentine's day.  WAS.  My husband suggested a trip out to Pink's, since we dropped our daughter off to spend a day with her grandmother.  Yesterday I looked up the calorie count in the Hoff dogs that they have a Pink's and I figured that if I got that hotdog with coleslaw on it, that would be ok.  (Just for the record, I love Pink's coleslaw dogs....).  We also made an agreement not to order fries.

Well......we arrive at Pink's and as usual, there's a long line.  Pink's is known for it's long line of people waiting to buy hotdogs.  If there is no line when you get to Pink's, it's almost disappointing.  Standing in line is part of the Pink's experience.   Standing in line is also dangerous.  First of all, you have plenty of time to read all the posters they have, featuring their famous hotdogs, as well as their menu board.  In addition to the visual stimulation of reading about all the ingredients they pile on to the hotdogs, there's also the hotdog smell in the air, you can smell it from blocks away.... and THEN, as if that's not bad enough (especially if you're hungry), once you get closer to the counter, you can SEE the fabulous hotdogs being made, the mountain of fries that is piled up underneath chili and nacho cheese.... Your mouth starts watering and your mind starts wondering, and all of a sudden you find yourself ordering a Mulholland Drive with a side of chili cheese fries.....  Let's just say.... that is probably IT for my daily calorie intake.  (Although.... I only ate half the cheese fries ... ;-))

Let me just give you a dosage of visual stimulation to show you what I mean.... :

Pink's Famous Chili Dogs... line around the block.

Pink's is decorated for Valentine's Day tomorrow :)

Even the mighty chef, Gordon Ramsay, eats at Pink's! If it's good enough for him, well ... then no doubt, it's worth a visit :)

Just a small selection of all the celebrity photos & autographs that are hanging on the walls @ Pink's! It's quite the happening place!  You never know who you're going to run in to!

A troth full of hotdogs, ready to be consumed!

The Pink's crew is amazing, how they keep track of everyone's orders
the way they do, I don't know.... Always friendly and helpful too!

Here is our order: A Mulholland Drive (10" dog with grilled mushrooms, grilled onions and nacho cheese + I added jalapeno peppers), a Planet Hollywood (same as a Mulholland, except with a spicy sausage instead) and the chili nacho cheese fries.

And of course.... Dr. Brown's diet Cream Soda to top it all of! (And yes, I do see the irony in ordering a diet soda after all that, however I do actually enjoy the flavor of diet sodas more as they are not so sweet)

Here's a close up of my Mulholland Drive dog... jalapenos, bacon, mushrooms and onions... It was a challenge to eat, but I somehow managed without too many mushrooms ending up on the floor. I may have snorted some nacho cheese though....

The chili nacho cheese fries are to die for.  Literally.

The after math .....

Even the Good Year blimp was hovering over Pink's... wondering if they have a way to haul those hotdogs up to the blimp?

Well, the damage has been done.  It was worth every single calorie. Pink's is a rare treat, and let me just say, there is no point in thinking about calories when you're there.... just enjoy it!  Run an extra mile on the treadmill tomorrow instead.

Apart from the Mulholland Drive, I have also tried and highly recommend the following dogs:

Coleslaw dog - simple but ohhh so delicious!

Lord of the Rings dog - 10" stretch dog with onion rings and BBQ sauce on top (Warning: BBQ sauce will end up all over your face, there is no graceful way of eating this one.....)
Ozzy dog - I just had a bite of this one once, it's generally too spicy for me, but for the ones of you who enjoy some fire, this is the one for you!
Chili Cheese Dog - Best chili dogs in town. 'Nuff said.

Now that I've got you all thinking about food... (don't lie.... I know you are!)....

Happy early Valentine's Day everybody!