There should be a Pinterest sub-site just for recipes called Pinter-risk. Because making some of those recipes are risky business. Ha. Ha. Oh boy. Lame jokes aside, some of those recipes are straight up terrible. So I am always thrilled when I find a successful one. And it especially makes my day when the cookie-dough and the cookie-baked are equally good. That is a rarity, my friends. I tweaked the recipe a smidgen. I do that with most of my cookie recipes. For fun. And cause it makes me feel like I'm living on the edge.

Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies

1/2 cup butter, softened 
1/2 cup shortening
1 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
3 cups quick-cooking oats
1 1/2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips

Follow the usual cookie protocol. Cream fat and sugars. Add in eggs one at a time followed by vanilla. Mix dry ingredients in separtate bowl and then add in. Do not overmix. Add in oats. Add in chips. Baking optional. If you choose to do so, preheat oven to 325 degrees, and bake for 12 minutes.

And if those aren't the laziest directions you've ever read, you obviously aren't reading a lot of recipes.


Love/Hate Relationships

Things I Really Hate:
- Clipping my finger nails. Maybe I'm alone on this. But I loathe clipping my finger nails. It makes me all tense, and I get anxiety. It just always hurts. And I hate the way they feel afterwards. I just really really hate fingernail clippers. Emery boards all the way!
- The word "lover." Just gross, Okay people? And with Valentine's Day around the corner, I feel like I'll be hearing a lot of it. And probably vomiting a little bit every time.
- Loading the dishwasher. I don't know. I just really hate getting my hands dirty. So after every two dirty dishes I touch, I wash my hands with soap. Which means I wash my hands over 10 times when loading the dishwasher. Now, I will happily unload the dishwasher all day long. Cause those babies are clean.

Things I Really Love:
- The sound of a big metal library stamp. Please tell me you are familiar with this sound. It is a thing of beauty. And it was that sound alone that made me want to be a librarian when I grew up. Just so I could use that stamp. And then things went all electronic and my dreams were dashed.
- Peanut butter & chocolate. My love is so strong for this combination that it has forced me to hate Nutella. Because it should be a chocolate-peanut butter spread, and not a chocolate-hazelent spread. Hate me all you want, but it's just not cutting it.
- Any TV show made by AMC. Breaking Bad, Walking Dead, Mad Men. The best. All of them. AMC can do no wrong.


Umm.. What?

A blog post about my favorite tv shows.

A blog post about rambling.

A blog post about a boring Nuggets game.

A blog post about writing 3 different blog posts and deleting them all.

These are just a few things that will never see the light of day because 1) they were even MORE boring than this post right here, and 2) because I am feeling uninspired. The only things that consume my time these days are searching for houses and searching for Catfish stories. Everything else seems positively boring.

I need a prompt or something.


BTIL says the darndest things

And now for some whatthewhat-ery that comes out of Jason's mouth.

Jason: I'm sleepier than a lumberjack after a long day of cutting down trees.

Me:We have to be up early tomorrow.
Jason: Yeah, like a pirate.

If you ask Jason a question such as Are you going to work-out in the morning? or, Is the Nuggets game on at 7? or, Do you love me more than anyone else in the world?, instead of a simple yes, his affirmative response in quick succession is always: YeahUhHuhThat'sRight



I didn't marry Jason for his fashion sense. That's for dang sure. But I will say that I love his taste in shoes. (Apparently, so do cops.)
A couple weeks before Christmas, I decided I wanted to get a pair of classic New Balance sneakers. I kid you not, the very next day when I came home from work, Jason said to me, "I really want a pair of classic New Balance sneakers." If that isn't precious, well then you just don't know what's what. Obviously, we're meant for each other. Because a couple that wears matching shoes, stays together. Or something like that.
Since I'm a good wife, I got Jason some New Balance sneakers for Christmas. And because I'm a jealous shoe-loving woman, I bought myself a pair this week. I just really wanted to be in with the cool kids. (The cool kids in this situation being Jason. Who really isn't that cool but apparently he was a big deal in middle school.) Now the debate has begun as to which pair is more boss than the other. (Are the cool kids saying "boss" these days?) And so far, there is 1 vote for the green ones, and one vote for the blue ones. Anyone want to settle the score?

While we're on the topic of shoes, I posted this picture to Instagram the other day and this was the conversation that followed.

Oh Jason, silly me. Of course she was asking about YOUR shoes.


Oh Chapstick My Chapstick

I finish all of my chapsticks. (Chapstick is a term used here to reflect all forms of lip balm. I used to be whole-heartedly devoted to medicated Chapstick, and then My Favorite Lip Balm, and then Burt's Bees, but then I discovered Nivea and I did not look back). I typically have 3 or 4 of the same chapsticks in rotation at any given time. I finish each and every one of them. I also lose each and every one of them. Possibly more than once. But it is very rare that I don't find it again. Sometimes it is found within a few days. Sometimes it takes weeks. And occasionally, one will show up at the start of fall that went missing at the end of winter. Coat pockets, purse pockets. I would go on but really, those are the only places I ever find them. I would venture to say that finding a long lost chapstick in a jacket that hasn't been worn in months is BETTER than finding a $20 bill in your pocket. (Logically, I realize this makes no sense. If I found a $20 bill in my pocket I could buy 7 brand new chapsticks and some Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Maybe this is the better option....)
For some reason, I only ever lose my chapsticks when they are brand new. Never ever will I lose one that is on it's last leg. And because I'm always losing them, I have a really hard time throwing old ones away. And because I never lose those ones, I end up amassing a collection of totally useless chapsticks. And then there are those desperate moments when I've managed to lose three brand new ones so I reach for one of my trusty old ones hoping to extract the teeniest bit of balm usually without much success. Those are sad days.
But I don't fret. Because when you have seven brand-new lost chapsticks, one is bound to turn up.


Weekend Blues

This weekend was dreadful. It all started Friday at work, when at 11 AM I realized it was highly likely that I was going to die sitting right there at my desk. My insides felt like implosion was imminent.  I did what any smart cookie would do and high-tailed it out of there. After lots of napping I started to feel better. Saturday morning started out with some bad news, but we were determined to make the best of it and put on the game version of our faces to support our Broncos. What a truly horrific game. Our Superbowl hopes were dashed, and we all went home feeling dejected.

I guess I can’t lump Sunday in with the terribleness it followed (I mean, it had both the Golden Globes and Downton Abbey), but I am basically ready to welcome Monday with open arms. Time for some Mamas & Papas.

Thanks for nothing weekend, you wretched thing.

By the way, I made a little Facebook page. If you'd like to hop over and like it that would just be peachy!


Desk Toys

I'd like to introduce to you the people (things) that get me through my day (work). When I am not on a shoot or conducting a focus group, I am at my desk. Which is the majority of the time. But I was not made for desk life. Desk life is a draining and dreary world. My bum hurts from sitting in a comfy office chair, and my head hurts from staring at a big beautiful computer screen, and my stomach hurts from free Chick-fil-A lunches. It's a tough life I lead. So to encourage productivity and protect my sanity, I've collected a few items found in boxes full of random products scattered through out our office. It's nowhere near Michael Scott's collection of desk toys, but while they are small, they are strongly distracting and highly effective. Here we have the wanna-be Bucky Balls, the knock-off of Silly Putty, and last but never least, one of those head tickler things, which people seem to really love or really hate. Here's to you trusty desk toys. You give my life meaning.       ...Too far?      Yeah, too far.         But seriously, I love you desk toys. Don't ever forget it.

Do you have desk toys? I'm on the hunt to grow this little collection.


A Treat Confession

For the last 10 years, whenever the hankering for something sweet struck, I always turned to to the trusty chocolate chip cookie. It never let me down. Dough version, warm baked version, big version, small version, all versions were spectacular. 

This week I made some chocolate chip cookies. A massive batch. If I do say so myself, they looked perfect. And then I gave them all away.
Yesterday at work, I decided that all I really wanted in life was Muddy Buddies (or Puppy Chow depending on where in the country you grew up). So, last night I made a massive bowl. I also slapped Jason's hand when he went in for a snack. I'll willingly give away all my cookies, but don't you dare try to touch my Muddy Buddies.

I came to a horrifying realization. My taste buds are devolving. I mean, Muddy Buddies are a step down from chocolate chip cookies on the food maturity scale, right? What's next, green beans? Because if I stop liking the only vegetable I enjoy, I am in serious trouble.

I am so ashamed. 



I don't try to explain it. I just make sure it is well documented. I'm not sure how to make it more clear. It's Rebecca..... like with an R.


The Mortification of a 16 Year-Old

I was chatting with a friend the other day about the interesting conversations we had around the dinner table growing up because of the nature of my father's profession. My dad is a urologist. Which meant that I was the only kid that didn't giggle in middle school health class when we talked about male and female anatomy. We talked about our days at the dinner table, and for my dad that often involved treating prostate cancer, removing massive kidney stones, and fixing botched and performing first and only circumcisions (because he's the best).
My friend asked me what my craziest memory was from growing up with a urologist dad. And I realized I had suppressed one little experience.

In high school, I performed in a lot of the school plays and musicals. One day, our leading guy (and a guy that I maybe had a crush on at some point junior year) was missing from rehearsal. The director told us he was having a procedure done at the hospital and moved on. When he returned the next day, some playful teasing from his friends ensued and it was clear that the procedure involved one's nether regions. (Gotta keep it family friendly, right?) And it wasn't kidney stones. And it wasn't prostate cancer. We all laughed a bit at the jest and then pulled out our scripts and got on with the show. (Really awful pun intended.)

When I got home, I went to my dad's office to chat. Knowing that my friend had had his procedure done at the hospital where my dad worked, I said, "My friend, Brian Lewis* just had some procedure at your hospital. I think it had something to do with... you know. So I bet one of your colleagues in your department was his doctor."

I was delighted at my discovery of this little coincidence until I saw the hesitation in my dad's face. I'm sure he was weighing what to say next so as to protect the whole doctor-patient confidentiality. But that was all I needed. I was no longer delighted; I was mortified. There goes my shot at ever landing a date with that guy. Because dating your urologist's daughter is JUST. NOT. CUTE.

"No! Nope. Nope. Ugh."

And out of the office I walked.

*Name changed. Why? Because the whole situation was so very embarrassing.


White Elephant

I'm trying to get over the sorrow of returning to work by reliving our white elephant gift exchange. It's half working. I scored, because I actually love those fuzzy socks, annnd I benefited greatly from Jason's gift as well. And yes, my sister-on-law Chantell crocheted a bikini. Came in a Victoria's Secret box and all. Now that is White Elephant brilliance.


With Utmost Class

In this family, we like to do things in style. So naturally, we ring in the new year sipping sparkling cider out of any container available. This year featured the standard vases, a fish bowl, a creme brulee dish, a salt shaker, a measuring cup, and a ladel.
We followed our many cheers and kisses with a fireworks show where we almost lost our legs when a new roman candle user dropped his hand and directed his candle at the crowd before they were done firing out.
We also enjoyed: a cheese ball the size of Texas, buffalo chips, the most time consuming dinner ever made, a sing-a-long, and Apples to Apples.
A good time was had by all. Except for Dave, who went to sleep on the couch nice and early since he has a paper route he has to be up early for. What a trooper.

Happy New Year! 2013 is going to be great!