Two Interesting Items

1. This is the strangest thing I've seen in at least a week:

DEAR JENNIPHER SHAVER, Offer good at Kansas City area stores only.

A hardware store giving out fruits and veggies as a promotion? Are they free? Are they snacks? Is Sutherlands now a grocery? I'm confused, but it's healthy, so I'm not going to complain. I'm just going to scratch my head.

2. I'm insane. I signed up for a 1/2 marathon. Yep, all 13.1 miles of it. The insanity will ensue on Sunday, March 29 in Olathe. I begin officially training on January 4, but goodness knows I'm getting my ass to the gym to run plenty before then.

Happy Halloweenie!

Before I get into Halloweenie pics, I must first share some photos of the birthday girl! In celebration on her first estimated year of life, Miss Siena got a new collar, a new harness and doggie ice cream. I think she enjoyed it.

Sitting quietly for her treat.

Collar close-up: We picked pink so people would stop calling her a him.

Now for the really fun stuff. I freakin' love Halloween. And while many of our friends were in different states so we couldn't all celebrate together like we usually do (slow tear, fast tear), we did our best to make the most of it. Regretfully, on Halloween night at Charlie Hoopers, my camera died, so I didn't get pics of Jim and Jessica. Jessica went as the bailout bill and Jim was the golden parachute. It was brilliant.

Ryan went as one of the Beastie Boys from the Sabotage video. Love it.

'Stash close-up.

I've wanted to be a flapper for FOREVER. Finally, I made my dream come true.

Sarv went as the Joker in the beginning scenes of The Dark Knight. It freaked my ish out.

Group pic!

On Saturday, Ryan and I spent some time walking around the Plaza and waiting for a table at PF Changs. It was an hour-and-a-half wait, but we had a gift cert, and it was a nice night, so really no complaints. It gave me ample opportunity to shoot. :)

Everyone loves this fountain.

You may walk now. 

Sunset in the park...ahhh.

Finally, I stake out Ponce de Leon. Home of the...

ELUSIVE PONCE DE LEON SHEEP!!!

Long Overdue

I effing hate squirrels:
Well, now that I have that off my chest, let's address my inability to blog. Well, in all fairness, things have been a tad nutso lately. I spent months complaining about my crappy work situation, then spent time soul searching, then Erin and I created FBG. Next, I lost my mind working with the Small Business Association, started interviewing for jobs, finally landed a job that was created for me (both figuratively and literally), had a bizarro hush-hush-quit-my-job experience, went to Chicago, and now I start my new job on Monday. Phew. And to think that I once thought that my 26th year of life would be the most exciting. 27 ain't too shabby all in all, and God knows what 28 holds.

This weekend also marks two exciting things: 1) Ryan and I's one-year anniversary is on Sunday, and I'm so excited for it. We really picked a beautiful time of year to get married, and it's so nice that each year I can look back on that beautiful day. Awesome. 2) Siena's estimated birthday is on Monday! The booger turns 1, and I plan to spoil her rotten with doggie ice cream, a new collar and a new leash. No cake though, I'm not that nutters.

The only other thing that I should mention is that I recently made and decorated the ugliest cake imaginable. And I really tried to make it pretty (I swear!), but apparently my cake skills are in need of some serious sharpening. As is my recipe for icing. See?

Why did I, a Mizzou grad, bake and decorate a cake that says Texas on it, you ask? I lost a bet. Damn Longhorns.

Silver Ain't Too Shabby

Every year, I put myself through sports-related hell. Maybe you've heard of it? It's called Kansas City Corporate Challenge? For some reason, year after year, I sign up for a multitude of events, many of which I am not talented in (swimming, track, tug of war, to name a few).

However, I am talented in tennis, so each year I get really pumped to play doubles tennis. My partner and I, who eerily look related, have similar styles of play and make for a great team. The first year we played we took bronze; the second year we took silver (only because I was in Disney World at the time -- for work, people. I was WORKING HARD). This year, J Squared, as we like to call ourselves, was hoping for the gold. But no. I, my friends, was a headcase. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

We were supposed to play Saturday, and I was psyched for it. Then I spazzed out, forgetting what time we were meeting to warm-up or play and arrived at the courts more than an hour early. Then, once it was time to play, our competitor didn't show, and we won by forfeit. This was good, but bad because we only spent 30 minutes playing with another team who was in the same situation, but, like us, refused to go home without doing anything. (Seriously, I don't wear a skirt for nuthin.)

Then on Monday, during our semifinals match, I came with no game face. I kept over thinking, over hitting, under hitting and doing anything else besides getting the ball in the court. It sucked. I can't believe the other "J" in J Squared didn't smack me. The team we played was good, no doubt, but we ended up playing a grueling three set match that lasted darn near three hours. It should have lasted one hour, but we pulled it out. Barely. Sheesh.

Then, after 20 minutes of rest and six baby carrots (we didn't intend on the marathon tennis), we hit the court again...for....another...three setter (another 2+ hours of tennis). Dear Lord, help. We ended up losing, but I swear it was only due to muscle fatigue and brain failure. And for our state, we really did make some hella good shots. (I finally pulled my ish together for this one; I was too exhausted to continue being a headcase.)

Here's a pic of us before the match:



Thank GOD we didn't take one after.

Happy 100th post to me!

Today is a historic day for PH Balanced. This is its 100th post! Woohoo! That's a lot of blogging about random stuff. In honor of this joyous occasion, I'm posting about two of my favorite things: sheep and sugar-free gum.

One of my friends recently sent me this article, which features the below insanely cute photo. All together now, aww.


Now that our cute quota has been filled for the day, on to the gum. Orbit is probably my favorite brand of sugar-free gum because they're always coming up with new fun flavors. For example, about a year ago they released Mint Mojito, which I adore:


Recently, I stumbled upon two new flavors of Orbit Gum: Fabulous Fruitini and Strawberry Mint. Fabulous Fruitini wasn't exactly fabulous, but it was pretty tasty and tasted very similar to old-school FruitStripes gum, so it had that nostalgia thing going for it. Strawberry Mint was also pretty good, although both didn't keep their flavor long. (If anyone from Orbit stumbles upon this, work on that, OK?)

The new flavors got me curious though...what other flavors are out there or about to be released? The Orbit site wasn't very informative in that department, but wiki, as usual, came to the rescue. According to this, Sangria Fresca should be out and about. I MUST find it. If you see it, buy it for me, please. I'm good for the $1.33.

And, if you happen to be traveling in Russia, Germany, Israel, the Czech Republic or Bulgaria, keep your eyes peeled for even more fruitier flavors. Grapefruit Mint...Orange Berries...Fruit for Kids (really interested to know what that is...I'm guessing fruit punch)...it's an exciting sugar-free gum world out there, and I must sample it!

Siena is already becoming eccentric.

Although Siena is a mere five months old, she's already developed quite the list of bizarre, eccentric habits, typically seen only in dogs 10+ years.

Here are a few of them:

1) She loves rocks. Has anyone seen that one Dog Whisperer where the dog is obsessed with rocks and chooses rocks over balls and toys to chew on? I hope to God that isn't my dog. As of late, she's grown accustomed to finding rocks in the yard and bringing them into the screened in porch to chew on. She's also assembled a pile of rocks in the middle of the yard. I have no idea how chewing on rocks can feel good, so I'm hoping she just likes the taste of dirt. Or is a hoarder. Either way, Ryan and I have tried to halt this development by attempting to pick up all the rocks in the backyard. Talk about fun.

2) She humps me. She'll actually run up to me, wrap her paws around my leg and go at it a few times. Girl dogs don't usually hump, so we may have a lesbian dog. That really doesn't bother me too much though; she rarely does it. What does really bother me though is that when she does it, she stares deeply into my eyes. (Note: She has tried to hump Ryan once or twice, but she never looks at him the same loving way.)

3) She is afraid of the vacuum cleaner. And when I saw afraid, I mean deathly afraid. And it doesn't have to be running to incite fear. The mere knowledge that it's in another room can set her ears down and back. We've been trying to desensitize her to the vacuum cleaner by making her sniff it every day, but each time she'll still scurry out of the room barking.

I should have known...Siena is a Walters, and no one who is named Walters--including myself--can be normal. No one.

Coming clean

I know the blog has been Siena heavy lately, and I don't want to become one of those annoying dog people, but I think it's too late. In fact, I read this and found it not only cute but also tempting to do. So, to hell with it, I'm coming clean. Here's my official statement:

"When it comes to dogs, Jennipher is no longer an objective member of society. She has stepped down to better serve the needs of herself. Let it be known that, in her mind, Siena is a dog unmatched in intelligence, agility and cuteness. Instead of pretending to be objective and not obsessed with her dog for the rest of her life, she's decided to come clean. She is, in fact, hopeless. She hopes you understand."

Phew. I feel better. Now I can stop apologizing for posting things like this:

Here's a shot of us making dinner. Siena patiently waits for me to drop something. She's figured out pretty quickly that I'm the clumsy one in the house and that I drop things on a somewhat regular basis.




Like most puppies, Siena is rough on her toys. Lately though it's become a bit worrisome. Earlier this week, I found this:


Which I reassembled to be Truman.


Just for reference, here's what Truman looked like earlier this month. The signs were all there; I blame myself for what happened.

Time for a Poem

Today is the first day of spring!
Flowers and bunnies it brings!

Say goodbye to the snow for its nobody’s beau.
Especially not mine, I boycotted it long ago.

Say hello to robins and green, green grass
A good kind of weather that doesn’t knock you on your ass.

Tulips and daisies and daffodils galore
It’s certainly enough to make the soul soar.

However, be sure to frolic and dance and enjoy the warm sunshine.
Because it may only be here for a very short time.

When you live in the Midwest, weather changes so fast
Soon it will be 100 degrees, and spring-like weather will be a thing of the past!

A special thanks to this awesome Web site. I'm seriously addicted, and you'll probably see me write many more ridiculous poems because of it.

The boycott is on.

I’ve had it with winter, and I’ve especially had it with 60 degrees one day, 25 degrees and snow/ice/sleet the next. Therefore, I’m boycotting winter. As of today, Tuesday, February 25, 2008, it’s officially spring. Feel free to wear your best spring attire. Today, I’m sporting three-quarters-length sleeves and ballet flats -- with no socks. Daring, I know.

I implore you to celebrate spring with me. I beg of you…even though tonight it’s supposed to snow again, look deep within your soul and find that warm and cheery spring soul that I know you have. It’s there, and it’s strong enough to melt any freezing rain that the big man upstairs can throw down. Hallelujah!

I feel warmer already…

F to the I to the B-E-R.

After receiving favorable reviews of my Valentine’s Day poem, I thought I’d post another little bit of wordy goodness. This time, the subject is fiber. That’s right, f-i-b-e-r. This one goes out to Tishy…For full effect, please read in a rap-like style.

Fiber, fiber, it’s the stuff in your food--
the stuff that’s left over before you’ve pooed.

There’s soluble and insoluble. Those are the two types.
Get them both often, and it’ll clean out your pipes.

Eat your beans, your broccoli and your oatmeal now!
Otherwise, it’ll feel like you’re passing a cow.

And, when it comes to fiber, don’t throw caution to the wind.
Add it to your diet slowly, or it’ll feel like you’ve sinned.

Small, but steady is the name of the game.
Do it now, and your health won’t ev-er be lame.

Peace out, homies!

Two more bits information: embarrassment edition

1. The baby gates have come down, folks. But not because Siena is so advanced in her puppydom that she no longer needs a place to be corralled. No siree. It’s because I’m a clutz*.

Monday night, after teaching my core class at KCFitnessLink, one of the gates literally came crashing down. I mistakenly thought the gate was unlocked and, like I always do, pushed my hips “through” the gate, hoping to open it up and step right through. But, the gate was locked and I fell to the ground in what Ryan calls, “the slowest fall I’ve ever seen.” Funny as it is now, it hurt like a mo-fo, and I have the bruises on my feet to prove it. (The brunt of my fall was on the sides of my feet that crushed down on the baby gate’s bars.) I shouldn’t complain though. Ryan said that from watching the incident and then seeing me wither in pain as he quickly rushed over to help, he was certain we’d be going to the ER for a broken bone. Nonetheless, Siena finally got her revenge for puppy jail.

2. I got duped. Ever since Ryan and I bought our new camera in October, I’ve been on a huge photography kick. I’ve loved capturing the weather, landscapes, my friends, my family, my hubby and of course the pup. Earlier this year, I entered the picture of Siena romping in the snow with her tongue out to an amateur photo contest. In the contest, you didn’t give up your copyrights and, if chosen, could win some cash. I had kind of forgotten about it until yesterday when I received a letter in the mail saying that my photo was a semi-finalist in their winter 2008 contest. I didn’t have to do anything but send back in a signed sheet that it was my original work. Also, the contest wanted to publish my photograph in a coffee table book, and I could buy that if I wanted but didn’t have to.

At first, I was like, wow, I do have talent at this photography thing! But then, I got to thinking that it all seemed kind of strange. The font seemed a little suspect (like one of those pre-approved credit cards or get-a-second-mortgage mailers) and generic. And the letter kept mentioning how you didn’t have to buy anything.

Thank God for Google. One quick search for The International Library of Photography, and I found this. Can you say scam?

I was a bit disappointed though. I really wanted to be a semi-finalist! Thankfully, Ryan was nice enough to say that I was already a finalist in his contest, and Siena had already won cutest puppy of the year because of it.**

*For further proof read the post, “Can’t help it. The girl can’t help it.”

**I almost deleted this last paragraph, but tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, so what the hell.

The Yaris has a boo-boo.

Ever notice how as soon as you get something new, it’s like that thing automatically has a giant target placed upon it? For example, white tennis shoes. The first time you wear them someone is destined to step on your foot or you’ll get stuck in a downpour when there was no mention of rain in the forecast. Or, you have a giant bruise on your arm and everyone and their uncle decides to slap/squeeze/grab you there during casual conversation. (Granted that example isn't really getting something “new” and it’s actually kind of creepy that people would slap/squeeze/grab you in casual conversation, but roll with me here...)

OR, you have a new car.

Last night on the way to puppy class, the poor Yaris (Ryan still hasn’t given him a proper name yet) got "rubbed." It had recently snowed (don't even get me started on that), the roads were slick in spots, and, while coming down a hill, a car slide into us. It really wasn’t much; just a nudge that resulted in a couple of scratches to the bumper. But, it still sucked. New car, new scratch. No fun.

Ironically, the woman who hit us was an insurance agent. She immediately admitted fault, filed a claim and off we were. It was seriously the fastest and most polite “accident” I’d ever witnessed.

Hopefully, now that the car has been initiated twice (remember, it also got rubbed in the dealer’s lot before we bought it), the target is faded if not completely gone. Here’s hoping.

Don’t eff with me today. I’m in no mood.

I need to vent:

I’m sick of winter; I want sleep. I hate those stupid jewelry commercials on the radio where the monotone dude goes on and on about prices and finding the right ring. I loathe it so much that it seriously raises my blood pressure when I hear it. I can’t understand why major roads in KCMO are never plowed before 9 am, even if it stopped snowing hours ago. I hate my car’s tires; they suck. I’m quite annoyed with people who speak loudly on the phone at work. I don’t understand why the people who pick up our recycling bin throw it in the middle of my driveway every single friggin week, thereby causing me to have to get out of my car and move it before I can park. Do they not see it? Do they not care? Do they hate me?

I want chocolate; I need chocolate. And Trent Reznor. I really need some angry Trent Reznor.

I’m cranky. You’ve been warned.

Can’t Help It. The Girl Can’t Help It.

Sometimes I go through these phases where I’m really freaking clumsy. Almost like I’m in one of those terribly cliché romantic comedies where the girl is constantly falling over and spilling things and inevitably literally runs into her soul mate who, of course, finds her lack of coordination endearing and they live happily ever after. Well, I already have my Tom Hanks/Hugh Grant/Matthew McConaughey/[enter your favorite leading man here], so, my clumsiness leaves me not to new exciting heights of true love but instead to messes—lots of them. In the last 24 hours, I have performed the below three acts of stupidity:

1. In the past year I have broken three, beautifully etched wine glasses that Ryan’s mom got us for Christmas 2006. She got us a set of four, and since breaking 3/4s of the set, Ryan has barred me from using the lucky, remaining glass. Hilariously, both Erin and Ryan noticed my difficulty at keeping glasses as nature intended and got me stem-less wine glasses for Christmas 2007. (Seriously, how hilarious is that?) Well, last night I was drinking some Chianti while cooking and, of course, knocked over the glass, spilling wine everywhere. While I somehow managed not to break the glass (yay for stem-less drinkware!), I did end up spilling dark red wine all over my left brand-spanking-new Nike. I know you’re not supposed to get upset when someone smudges your Puma, but what about when I myself spill wine all over my yet-to-be-run-in shoes? I dried it the best I could and then pouted for an hour. Darn me.

2. This morning, I performed my 8 a.m. work ritual. Oatmeal with flax seed? Check. Piece of fruit w/napkin? Check. Coffee? Check. Coffee all over my jeans? Bonus! I totally spilled coffee all down my right leg, while walking back to my desk. I’m sure at least five people saw it. Brilliant.

3. This afternoon, I had yet another clumsy incident. Siena got a couple rounds of shots this morning as part of her normal vaccination, and the vet warned us she could be a little out of it for 24 hours and may exhibit flu-like symptoms. The worrier that I am, I went home over lunch to check on the little bugger. While there, I found her in good health and myself stepping in a big ole pile of poo in the backyard. I was wearing my new chucks. They now smell of poo even though I scrubbed them vigorously. God hates me.

And the day’s not even over yet!

Scoring Update

Ice Storm: 2, Jenn: 0 (still)

The ice storm dealt me yet another blow. During the icing/raining extravaganza, our power glitched a few times, thereby frying our answering machine. Our phones still work and all, but if you want to leave a message, tough luck. Try blowing up the celly, yo.

And, in my perpetual battle with the friggin post office, the score now reads USPS: 1, Jenn: 0.

I hate the post office. I know those are strong words, but most of the time they're not open, they keep changing the dang cost of stamps, and generally they have too few offices for the number of people who need to mail things, especially this time of year. Earlier this week though, I had softened on them after discovering you could order shipping supplies online, buy stamps, have a postal carrier pick up your package at your house, etc. But, I'm writing to tell you that I was wrong. W-R-O-N-G. Wrong. The post office still sucks.

Thursday, I set Tish's gift out on my doorstep, awaiting its scheduled pickup. I was delighted to come home Thursday evening to see that, yes, it was indeed picked up. But, what did I come home to tonight? This, in all of it's stamped-up glory:

With a label slapped on it, reading this:

Are you kidding me?! I was livid. Don't freakin advertise that you'll pick something up if you won't. I read everything I could on their stupid Web site, and it didn't mention ish about 13 oz. ARGH! So, now, on my Saturday, I have to go to the post office and fight with all the other ticked-off idiots who are trying to get their Christmas gifts mailed before the big day. Wish me luck and that I don't go postal (ha ha, that was bad, sad joke).

(And yes, Tish, this is all too hilarious after you recently had a friend from work prank me, pretending to be a USPS worker saying they couldn't pick my package up from my home. You were more insightful than you realized!)

Yes, Santa. I'd be happy to guide your sleigh tonight.

Tuesday morning I awoke with a small zit on the side of my nose. Leaving it alone, I expected it to go away. Yesterday, it was a bit larger and a bit more read. This morning, it was giant and very red. No makeup can cover this ish.

So, in lieu of the holidays, I'm rolling with God's cruel joke and channeling my inner (and apparently outer) Rudolph. My nose is shiny, and it glows! Happy Christmas!

Random side note: I've always enjoyed in the song, how they rhyme "glee" with "history." Priceless.

Bah Humbug

I love the holidays. I love Christmas. I love cookies, and trees, and candy canes, and mistletoe. I love it all.

Expect secret Santa at work. I HATE secret Santa at work.

Every year I get roped into randomly drawing someone’s name who I know nothing about, only to try to attempt to find $5 gifts that delight them every week until Christmas when I reveal the $10 grand finale gift. I usually ask the chosen one’s friends what they might like. Chocolate or gummies? Coffee or tea? Wine or scotch? I painstakingly toil over those presents. And in return – each gosh darn year – I get crap, complete and utter crap. Best Choice cocoa from Wal-Mart, a Christmas decoration circa 1987, the most intense lilac hand lotion you’ll ever smell, a yellowed candle that’s obviously been in storage for at least a year…the list of cruddy gifts go on.


I’m not delusional; I’m sure the gift I laboriously shop for isn’t always a hit. But I don’t just give out what’s laying around in my house. I spend the $3-$5 and get something nice, that’s usable. And I put some effort into it.

This year, I will not be thwarted by coworkers who call me Scrooge or can’t understand why I’m not in the holiday spirit. Goddammit, I am in the holiday spirit. Christmas is a time of thought and caring – not re-gifting your rubbish to me!

Phew. I feel better.

What a difference an annoucement makes...

Screw that sad ish. I think Sarv displays how all Mizzou fans feel right now, after being snubbed by the BCS:

p.s. What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.

En Fuego

On Tuesday, I blogged about my turkey difficulties. Alas, I forgot to mention my biggest screw up of all…and one that totally puts me way above Ryan in the race to win the “Biggest Idiot” title. See, he may have turned the oven off halfway through cooking our turkey, but I lit a candle at 8 pm Sunday night and didn’t realize it until I woke up at 6 am Monday morning and smelled the scent of the dang thing.

Thankfully, the candle is huge and didn’t melt all over the floor or burn the Nut down. I’m seriously counting my lucky stars. Did you know that candles are the 4th leading cause of house fires? I’m such a moron.

I must have a thing for fire lately though. A couple of weeks ago, I randomly took photos of this same dang candle. Here it is in its dangerous glory:


This holiday season, when you're probably burning more candles than usual, use common sense, people. Be smarter than me!

All good things come to those who wait...

After a relaxing, friend- and family-filled Thanksgiving break, Ryan and I spent Sunday maxing and relaxing around the Nut. We watched the Chiefs lose (boo), did some laundry and then proceeded to officially kickoff the holiday season by fixing our first big turkey (in years past we’ve only been brave enough to cook a turkey breast) with all the fixin’s.

I should have known we were doomed when we first began the “cooking” process. I say “cooking” because, well, you’ll see.

First off, I had one heck of a time getting the damn bird out of the package. Then, even though the turkey had been in the fridge for nearly four days (the package said three would do it), the inside of it was still icy. Not being patient enough to wait another day for it to thaw, we forged ahead, removing the neck and delving into the semi-frozen turkey, searching for the little bags of giblets or gizzards or whatever the heck turkey-part they (God knows why) save for you. Of course, we couldn't find them. I assumed at the time that was because we bought a cheap Best Choice turkey, and maybe they don’t give you that. And really, it’s not like I knew what to do with it anyway.

So, we slather the bird up with olive oil, herbs, salt, onions, apple slices, etc. and pop it in the oven. I set the timer for 3 hours, the time the package recommends for a 10-13 pound turkey. For the record, ours weighs in at 11.89 pounds.

Around hour four, the turkey is still hovering at 150 degrees. I turned the temp up 25 degrees, figuring it can't hurt..

Four-and-a-half-hours into it, I start suspecting that something is off, seeing that the turkey’s temperature was now dropping. At first, I thought we were being taught a lesson for not properly thawing the turkey. Then I noticed that the oven wasn’t as hot as it was…turns out, when Ryan went to drain the potatoes for mashed taters, he accidentally turned off the oven in addition to the stovetop. And, neither of us noticed because our oven has two dials – one for the temp and one for bake, broil, etc. So although I was trying to turn the temp up, my attempts were futile (talk about a poorly designed oven).

Anyways, to make a long story short (too late, I know), our three-hour turkey dinner took seven hours. We also found the turkey parts...no idea where they were wedged but they fell out of the cavity (SICK) when we pulled it out of the oven.

Despite our Thanksgiving debacle, there is some good news. We have a great first Thanksgiving as a married couple story and, during the extended cooking, had ample time to put our Christmas tree up. And, I have to brag, despite the screw ups, the turkey did come out tasty, and it hasn’t given us salmonella...yet. Not to mention that we have one of the cutest trees I’ve ever seen. (Thanks Erin and Alan!)

I plan on posting pics of the difficult turkey and our Christmas tree soon. I’m going out of town for a few days for work, so I’ll post those when I get back. Adios amigos!