The day of the car accident… I went to the doctor just to get checked out and make sure I wasn’t bleeding from some place I had yet to discover (because that totally happens). While I was there they added insult to injury and made me get my sweet arse up on the scale. I’ve known what would be staring back at me wasn’t going to be pretty, so I haven’t stepped up to overview the damage in several months. I figured I’d clear it all up after the new year. In reality, what stared back at me was the highest weight I’ve ever reached in my life. Ever.

Now, now don’t go all crazy and start posting comments like “You look great!! Eat what you want” or “I can’t tell you’ve gained a pound, you look gorgeous”, because I know I don’t look like the latest whale to beach itself in Florida. I’m 6′ and the weight distributes itself pretty evenly. But, I feel it — in my energy levels and in the way my pants fit (or how it takes me five minutes to stretch them out every time I put them on).

Seems to me that’s my problem. I know there’s a problem, but I continually put off doing anything about it. You’d think I would have gone to get a salad after that, but no, I went to the grocery store to pick up some Aleeve and some frozen pizzas, figuring I deserved a little comfort after such a rough day. I’m really struggling with saying buh-bye to pasta, pizza (I swear they sprinkle it with crack), french fries, chocolate cake etc. I’ve got all the information stored in my brain and I can recite it to you, but when someone tempts me with something delicious I cave. Every. Single. Time.

My stomach these past few weeks has been in complete and utter revolt. The only way I can describe it is this raw feeling inside. It’s as if someone went in and scraped at the lining of my stomach, and every time I eat it just rubs salt in the wound. But, because my life revolves around eating I kept popping the Milk duds and fries and pizza because it was worth the pain.

But, I don’t want to be fat. I don’t want to have stomach pain. I don’t want to allow my life to revolve around food. Because of that I’m trying again. I’m working on my veggies and starting a Whole Foods cleanse to, you know, clear things out. With all this moving, I’m getting some workouts in… which reminds me I need to step that up as well. Whew I’m going to be busy. I’ll keep you posted and keep on trucking. Maybe I need one of those accountability days – giving that some thought!

*Image by: Johnny Vulkan

I got up, packed my bags for work and headed out knowing full well that there was snow in the forecast. Glancing up at the sky on the way out the back door, I figured that I had a few hours before it started and silently planned that I would get to work, get a few things done and then head back home to finish up the day before the storm ever hit. It’s a good plan if I do say so myself.

As I’ve mentioned before (maybe?) I drive about an hour to work every day… So, I’m cruising along listening to my newest book on tape Change of Heart (which I recommend as of now — on disc 9) by Jodi Picoult and contemplating what it would be like to be on death row when a spattering of snow starts to trickle down to my windshield. I resolve to just get into work, grab my computer and work from home because this whole snowstorm business is moving a little quicker than previously anticipated.

The roads start to dampen and traffic slows a bit because it’s the first snow of the season — and though I live in a state where snow is commonplace, there are a plethora of drivers stick their heads up their rears the first few rounds every year. This, my friends, becomes an enormous blessing. I’m approaching the Berthoud exit on I-25 — about 20 minutes from work — and the brake lights of the cars ahead began to flare. I push the brake to slow with them and nothing. I pump the brakes because that’s what I’m suppose to do and nothing. I start praying that the breaks will start working and nothing. Nothing, no brakes on the highway. Fabulous.

The car(s) in front of me seem to be experiencing the same set of brake problems when it dawns on me that my brakes are perfectly fine, but the sheet of black ice below me is the culprit. The red sedan ahead of me starts fishtailing then veering to the right. I have to guide myself to the right to avoid slamming into her. She then loses complete control, cutting in front of me, headed straight for the ditch on the right side of the road. I shift further right, leaving the left lane and find myself hurtling toward the ditch.

From there on out it happened so fast that it’s a complete blur. I hit the ditch, rolled the car 360 degrees and ended right side up, facing south on the frontage road next to the highway. The back windshield shattered, the front cracked but miraculously holding it’s fragmented self together. My lunch involving Mac n’ cheese and sauerkraut is flung about the car, strings of noodles and cabage on everything. Nothing is where it was suppose to be.

I’m ok. Terrified of driving (especially in snow). But, ok. I banged up my back and left shoulder, but they’ll heal. I had glass in my clothes, but not one single cut. I was bumped and bruised and sore heading into 2011, but most of all I was incredibly lucky. Someone was surely watching over me.

I don’t know if my car is totaled, hoping to find out by tomorrow, but it’s hard to imagine it would be anything but. A week after — I feel nervous driving anywhere and constantly check the mirrors, slow when the roads look damp and attempt to stay as far away from any other vehicle as possible. I don’t think I’ll be driving in snow for a while… even if I get a bigger car. It sounds so cliche and dramatic to say my life flashed before my eyes, but as my body tucked in to prepare for what was coming all I could do is hope for the best.

Maybe I just need to be lucky that I didn’t start the new year with a bang — since it would have been a whole 365 before I got to start over, instead of just 2.

Hope your end of 2010 and start of 2011 was far less eventful!

So it’s been almost two months. I had originally intended on covering each day of my Philly tour, but I know, at this point I won’t be able to give each day the glory it deserves so… instead I’ll just cram it all into one post for your viewing pleasure. Better late than never I always say. Especially when it comes to the food porn I could post.

On a side note… have you ever visited Food Gawker? Talk about food porn, I have could spend hours on there collecting recipes and salivating over things I never knew existed. But I digress, as usual…

After a wonderful and lengthy plane ride in which my butt fell asleep within the first 20 minutes and I was forced to spend the next several hours moving my legs to prevent blood clots and sudden death, I arrived in the city of brotherly love. Which, by the way, what the hell?

It was late. I looked like some version of a haggard and dying Medusa so we went to bed… to make sure we’d be aptly ready for the days of adventure to come

Before we start day number 1, you should meet Liz. This is Liz — with me. She happens to be one cool lady and the reason I make annual trips to Philly. I love her face.

Day 1:

Breakfast at Sabrina’s, which is a BYOB. And was delicious to boot! Can I please just say that if Denver had BYOB’s I’d truly go broke. Delicious.

After breakfast we headed over to Eastern State Penitentiary. I have a thing for prisons and this was my second prison tour in 6 months. I have to say that Eastern State did not satisfy my morbid curiosity for prisons. I’m glad that there weren’t more human rights violations or cruelties recorded… but come on, it’s a freaking prison. We want horror stories not solitary confinement stories. Nonetheless, it was a beautiful and eery place located *right* in the middle of the city:

After a trip to the prison we hit up El Vez for some blood orange margaritas and guac before heading out with some amaza-town people for the night. I believe there was some sort of mixed drink concoction, gyros and some mini bottles of beer involved.

Day Two:

The heat — oh the heat. I left Denver in a blustering cold front only to arrive in Philly with 90 degree temperatures in the beginning of May. Holy hell the sweat and humidity. We had brunch at a place that will only be remembered for its lack of air conditioning. Then proceeded to shop around for things to add to our “random food + homemade bang bang shrimp + wine dinner”. And shop we did. Oh how I wish we had a Trader Joes and Italian neighborhoods here in CO. We also went to Tria for Sunday School (go, you won’t regret it) for some wine and cheese. And, a little more wine and cheese.

Day Three:

OMG with the food. OMG. That’s all I can say. This day is forever burned into my memory as one of the best things that ever happened to my mouth. We started the day out at Reading Terminal Market with a Philly cheese steak and a reuben. The cheese steak looks disgusting, but I inhaled it’s melty goodness  and Liz inhaled the reuben. And now I’m hungry.

After a few hours of shopping and a much needed trip to H&M (another thing Denver is missing…) we headed to Tinto for their delicious Sangria. Another restaurant that will be burned into my memory as amazing!

Later that day we went to Mercato. I could write an entire post on this place. It’s amazing — both times I’ve been there I’ve been utterly floored by what I was presented. So, to replay the food sex I had that night, here we go:

We started with wine, that we brought. Of course. Then some grilled artichokes with a citrus aioli. Holy tender heaven.

I had the pasta with broccoli rabe, homemade meatballs and Italian sausage in a tomato gravy. Yum.

Liz, the ordering genius, had the petite filet which came covered in truffle butter with asparagus and garlic mashed potatoes. If there was a second tier to heaven — this is what they serve. Honestly the best piece of meat, ever. And the truffle butter, if they’d given it to me I would have eaten the stick whole. Words can’t convey the amazingness of that meal.

We finished it off with some tiramisu and sorbet. They were alright — nothing in comparison to their predecessors.

We spent the rest of the night admiring Liz and Bailey’s mini-turtle and talking. My second trip to Philly was equally as great as the first and worth the little problem of buttoning my pants to get on the return flight. I can’t wait to go back — maybe for restaurant week? Hint, hint — nudge, nudge.

It has recently been brought to my attention (via my sister’s Facebook update),

That maybe I am a touch too comfortable with Kyle being around all the time. He’s more or less like a roommate at this point and, well, if you’re around me long enough the “don’t do that” sensor just shuts down. When I see you at all hours of the day, expected and unexpected I no longer actively think about what I’m saying or doing in front of you. It was this way in college with my friend’s boyfriends and it is now this way with my sister’s boyfriend. Whether this includes bringing up highly inappropriate topics at the dinner table or “handling” an emergency wedgie situation when required… not a second thought.

I don’t think it’s all that weird. I walk around the house in my  floral pajamas, hair Medusa style without any makeup and complain about that weird smell coming from the pantry in front of him so why not just let it roll?

Maybe you think this is a little strange, but more than that I think it may be a dead fire sign that I need to move the heck out. 6 months with the fam has clearly had its effect on me. Au Revoir, Ciao, See Ya! I’m moving out (tomorrow!!) and moving on. And with this I hope to regain my dignity and sense of boundaries. No guarantees, but I promise to try my hardest.

Everything about prisons fascinates me… I figure it’s probably because I’m utterly terrified of going to prison and being forced into some jail house woman love triangle. *shudder* I try not to think about that. If Lockup RAW is on or any other prison show for that matter I will drop what I’m doing and be glued to the screen for the next hour. I, heaven forbid, could even forget to eat if there was a prison show marathon on MSNBC. I love watching how they survive, the dynamics, how smart 85% of the prisoners are and most of all how freaking creative they can be with what they have. Not always in a positive way, but still. I’m also horrified by so much of it. It’s like a bad highway accident you can’t help but stare at due to the sheer horror. You want to turn away, but your head is permanently glued in that direction, I’m helpless and fascinated all at the same time. That my friends is how I feel about prisons.

So imagine, me, going to Alcatraz. My jaw dropped, hit the cement and dragged behind me throughout the 3 hours I wandered the island. Hmm, maybe that was part of the reason I fell down the stairs? Boom, boom, boom, ouch. Dented camera… but otherwise crisis averted. The one disappointment in Alcatraz was the lack of eeriness. There wasn’t any part of it that sent chills up my spine… the way you imagine a prison should. At least any good prison shown on MSNBC. But, then again I set the stakes high.

Here are a few of my favorite shots from the island…

There were a few mishaps right from the start that caused my adrenaline to reach to unhealthy levels. It was probably just payback for all those mornings I made my dog sleep in rather than taking him out to pee. Oh well, that’s one action I’m willing to accept.

We ran the 5K, which in and of itself is no major accomplishment, unless you are my friend Stacey who ran the entire race with a pink wig on. I would have ripped it off screaming and itching my scalp about ten minutes in, so kuddos to Stacey. In case you’re wondering what that looks like:

Now try to imagine if a family of rats and guinea pigs spent a month digging around and nesting in her hair. That’s what it looked like the moment she took it off. I almost wet my pants laughing as she tried to smooth it down.

After racing we (the girls) spent the next hour collecting shwag from all the vendors supporting the race. Whether it was band aid packs, cheese, carpet cleaner spray or frisbees we left no freeby unattended. I think that the boys were about to mutiny and stab us with their key rings originally designed to help you examine your breasts. Sounds pleasant doesn’t it? In case your wondering who these jokers were that threatened us with their dull key rings, here’s a shot of the whole group:

Oh, and since Charlie couldn’t come he wanted to show his support by sporting a pink feather for the day.

P.S. A picture of me and my other friend Lindsey (yes I have more than one) appeared in the Denver Post… not the most flattering angle. Let’s just say I look “special”. But, hey, not everyone made it in the paper. So there’s a big pat on the back for me.

But, back to the point of this post. Fall, despite its manic temperature mood swings is my favorite season of all! Changing leaves, college football, apple pie, soup being back in season… all reasons I love this crazy time of year.

The leaves beginning to change in Iowa.

Maybe I should invest in a King bed, though I think that’s a bit of overkill considering the only people in my bed at this time are me and my 8 lb. dog with an attitude. Not to mention the $1,000 price tag associated with my over zealous attempt to crush my cuddle anxiety.

Now that I have discouraged any guy from ever wanting to date me… I’ll continue in my queen bed anxiety free. Phew, solved that one.