2 months, 7 days, and 1 hour from right now.

Time is a funny thing.

One minute, time is racing and you find yourself stressing over every passing second that drifts by, and the next... youre sitting, waiting, inhaling deeply as you wait for another minute to pass.

Today is one of the "wait" days. The clock is going backwards. No really. Backwards

So, as I wait, my mind slips back to those times when time was racing. Like a year ago. A year ago from this very moment, I was 2 months, 7 days, and 1 hour away from marrying Ryan. My life was consumed with dress fittings, wedding showers, thank you note writing, invitation fonts, perfect bow tying, perfect skin regimen, working, and living a normal life all at the same time. Or..well, trying to. Wedding planning. You would think that after planning my amazing, gorgeous wedding in 6 months, I would never in a million years want anything to do with a wedding ever again. But, nope... I'm obsessed. Once wedding planning touched my soul, it was here to stay. I am itching for a friend to get engaged and set a date. So I can then obsess over their wedding ideas, colors, schemes, and God only know what else I will find myself consumed with. I think wedding bells are in my blood.

I remember walking down the aisle very vividly. The wind was blowing just a little bit, and daddy and I had our arms interlocked.. I smiled watching my bridesmaids walk down the aisle from afar, and then.. it was my turn. The music changed, and my stomach did a few flips. All of a sudden, I was walking down a white aisle with every person who has ever meant anything to me watching my every move. And at the end of that aisle? My fiancé. Never in all my life, have I ever seen something or someone so amazingly beautiful. He stood there, full of confidence and a perfect serious smile. This was it. This was the moment I had been dreaming, and planning, and creating in my head since I knew what a wedding was. For all those times I decided to be a cynical teenager hurt by stupid boys, and vowed I would never get married. For all the times I thought that maybe being a married woman wasn't for me. This was it. I was about to turn my whole life over, and become one with this Man. This Man who stole my heart without asking for my permission. I never had the chance to say no. What started as a text message became this. A MARRIAGE. And life as I knew it would never be the same. And you know what? I'm okay with that. Because it was the best decision I have ever made. Umm.. well, He made. He swooped in and saved me from myself. He changed every single aspect of my life. For the better.

I don't know how it happened. I don't know if its the way his face crinkles up and his eyes get bigger when he thinks something is really funny, or how mad he gets when I'm right and he's not. Or, maybe it was the way my heart would feel funny when he looked at me, or how I felt completely safe when I'm wrapped in his arms.

 I do know one thing.

I am the happiest I have ever been in all my life, thanks to the man I married....

 

Cactus

Hello. My name is Angela. And when I was about 4 or 5, I had a cactus fetish. No, you don't have to adjust your eyes or play with you screen settings. I, Angela, had a cactus fetish. Call me weird, call me crazy, call me a freak... but I am what I am, and that's all that I am, and that's something you will never be. (Ha! Some self taught confidence for ya...)




So, yes. Cactus.



We had a huge walnut tree in my parents backyard. It would drop walnuts all over the place, so before dad would mow the lawn.. I had to run around collecting walnuts so they wouldn't get stuck in the lawnmower. One day, I had just finished my walnut duty.... and something caught my eye. On the back porch, sitting so perfectly, was a cactus. A cute, perfectly round cactus plant with lots of little needles and a few pink flowers. So intrigued, I reached out and grabbed the cactus. I wrapped my entire little hand around this ball of pointy needles.. and then freaked out, because IT STUNG! Sooo bad! I tingled in pain. I remember sitting on my poor, throbbing hand to make the sting stop.



Most people would have learned their lesson. But, not I. Oh no, Not me. The cactus and I now had a special relationship.



I can not even begin to count the number of time I touched that cactus. It became a weird OCD thing, where as long as I was alone, and the cactus was staring at me.. I was going to touch it. And not with one finger. But my WHOLE palm. I would GRAB this dang cactus. And not let go until it hurt. And I never told a single soul about it.



We ended up moving from the house with the cactus, and I don't think the cactus came with us. I quickly forgot about my weird obsession. Until... about 15 years later. Sitting at my best friends house, while chatting in her back porch.... There sat a pretty round cactus in the middle of the patio table.Staring at me. Glaring at me. Begging me to touch it. I didn't touch it. Apparently my willpower had strengthened over the years. I instead decided to tell my best friend about my weird cactus days, and she has made fun of me ever since.



I had to confess this. I feel better now. I have let the whole world know about my cactus fetish. And I am a better person because of it.



True Story. (Sadly..)

Cookie dough and cupcakes?

Every once in awhile, I create something so amazing yummy.. its hard for me to believe that I created it! I take a bite, oh and awww.. and then open my eyes, and think to myself, "I made this. I MADE THIS! And its good. Ohhhh its so good! high 5 for being awesome!" Its one thing to follow a recipe and it turns out just like the pictures, and tastes just as good as you imagined it would. But, when you get an idea.. and stick it all together, and it turns out to be better then you could have ever imagined.. THAT is a wonderful feeling of accomplishment. And when everyone tastes your labour of love, and they let out the same ohhhs and awwws....

Words cannot even describe the satisfaction I feel.

This happened this weekend. Ryan and I had an afternoon "date" planned to hangout with the Doyals. (Ill have to devote a whole post about the Doyals one day soon... ya, they’re that amazing!) I knew I wanted to bring over some kinda of baked something of other, that would please everyone. So... what’s better then cupcakes? Cookie dough? Well... what about a cupcake filled with cookie dough? Ohhh what about chocolate whipped butter cream frosting? And all that topped with a super moist mini chocolate chip cookie?? Jackpot, baby!

This, folks... is the most amazing cupcake I have ever created. And you know what I realized?

It’s the first cupcake I have ever created.

And I’m so proud of it, I’m not posting the recipe.

I’m just bragging right now.

Lots of amazing buttery cupcakes, filled with chocolate chip cookie dough, topped with luscious whipped chocolate butter cream. and a cookie. A fresh, soft, tiny chocolate chip cookie.

Perfect?
Closest thing to it.

Mmmmmmm.......

Satisfaction!

Hey Ya'll!!!!

Ever been so Savannah, Georgia?

No?

Go. Now. Run upstairs. Pack a bag or 5. Fill the gas tank. and GO. Because its that amazing, and everyone should experiance the true southern hospitality that gushes from the pores of this fabulous small town. Its rich in history, food, shoppes, pubs, and the nicest people on this side of the Mississippi. And its romantic, really romantic. Walking through the breezy streets, holding hands and enjoying the huge oak trees that are hundreds of years old. Ya, I was in heaven.

And guess what else is there?

Paula.

Paula Deen.

I feel like Paula and I are on a first name basis these days.

What youre seeing here in her Lady and Sons hot spot. So hot, that we had to GO to the place just to stick our names on a list, so we would have a spot to eat lunch. At 9am. nuts.

What we have here folks is a place setting. Complete with a Doily placemat. Have you ever, in all your life, seen anything so darn cute and folky? Love it!

Cheeder biscut and fried corn fritter with maple syrup

Chicken Pot pie

Pulled Pork Sandwich.

So how was it? Well, It was...... fried. Im huge on seasoning and taste. I like saying "wow!" after trying something suburb. Paula Deens was not what I was expecting. For the amount of fried, it lacked the WOW I enjoy. Much of the meal, left me rubbing my napkin over my mouth repeatively because I felt well..... greasy. It was OKAY. But, not what I was so excited for.

 Sorry Paula.

We also got a side of Mac and Cheese, because everyone raves about how wonderful it is. Well, I am VERY happy to report that after my husband took a few bites, he looked at me and the words "I like your mac and cheese better" floated from his lips. I asked him to repeat himself, and I felt as if I was dreaming. He likes my mac and cheese better then Paula Deens.

I can now die a happy woman.

Now I will leave you with this:

Come on Paula. We all know youre not that skinny!

Put some south in your mouth!

Alive

Hi! Hi! Hi!

I am done. I am healed! And I NEVER want to go through anything even close to that painful EVER again.

Tomorrow will be exactly 4 weeks from my surgery. 4 weeks of drooling, crying, whining, starving, and painkillers. Ohhhh how I loved the painkillers. I surely wouldn't have survived without them, and I am happy to report that I am now down to 3 Advil before bed every night, and that's it! I can eat just about everything again, and taste is slowly getting back to normal.

So... how bad was it? BAD. Worst thing ever. I went 9 days without an ounce of food. Icechips were the name of my game, and at times I couldn't even fit a spoon in my mouth. A BABY spoon. I woke up every 3.5 hours like clock work, ran high fevers while shivering, and cried. Ohhh the amount of painful tears I shed! Ryan's immune system decided to shut down 3 days after my surgery with a yucky cold (the worst days were day 3 through 10) and although he did try as hard as he could to be there for me, Thank God for my mother. My mother is a saint. That's all I can say. That woman was amazing. She took care of me, cried with me, drove me to the doctor, washed my clothes, reminded me I needed to shower (Hey, I was out of it!), begged me to eat and drink, tucked me into bed every night, and even remembered when I always took my last dose of painkillers. She didn't get mad when she made me food, only for me to stare at it and cry in frustration because I knew I wouldn't be able to put it in my mouth. She didn't get mad when I used every single tissue in her house to spit into. She didn't even get mad when I puked in her cute garbage can instead of trying to make it to the toilet. Nope, she just dealt with my patheticness, and did it with a smile (forced at times) and a big 'ole hug when I needed it the most. Ryan and I were so lucky to have her there for us! Thanks mom! Thanks for the good work. We will show our ridiculous amount of appreciation on Mothers day. Promise.

I do have to also mention, that I have a pretty awesome family, and so many good friends. You all know who you are. The ones who truly, honestly cared. The ones who realized this wasn't going to be easy, or came by to visit and bring me pudding/ice-cream/etc, and sent me words of encouragement everyday, or flowers to brighten my afternoons, or phoned my mom and husband to make sure I was doin alright. The truth is, I wasn't doin alright.. but thanks for checking in anyway! I'm fine now, and just feel so blessed to have that over with. The road to recovery was long, hard, and bumpy.

Was it worth it? Ill let you know

Anyway, I have 3 different baking endeavors to blog about. I was waiting until I was back on my feet, and back to my normal spunky (funky?) self. My husband put his foot up my behind last night, taunting me about NOT blogging. So.... to prove him wrong (Ohhh I love doing that!) I'm back!

And those 21 pounds I lost during my recovery?

Oh ya, baby. They wanna come back too.

They missed you.

Crazy White Chocolate Macadamia Nut Cheesecake.

Here is a little something you should know about me. I’m safe. I color in the lines, and I don’t like to walk tightropes. I like feeling in control, and HATE the feeling in my gut when I feel out of control, not knowing the outcome. It’s the best part of me, and the worst part of me. Ask my best friends. You want stability?? Then stick with me. You want a nagging crazy woman who swears you will die if you do something even slightly over the top?? I’m your girl. Well, sometimes. Give me a bottle or 2 of moscato wine and I get crazy. Give me a couple of cocktails and I’m swimming in the dark and dancing on tables. Give me a couple shots, and things turn PG-13 real quick. But that’s a whole other post.

I’m the same way with cooking. I follow every recipe as close as possible; to make sure that my outcome is the outcome the recipe creator came up with. I want to taste what they tasted. I want to smell what they smelt. And I want to say, "Wow, that really WAS good!!" But every once in awhile.... every now and then.... every other full moon... I get this crazy idea to scribble outside the lines. I dibble and dabble and taste and add and mix and then pop it in the oven, only to pace the kitchen for a half hour, biting my finger nails.... I seriously do this. I develop a dang twitch and curse myself for being so wild and crazy sometimes. I even have to remind myself to breathe. I press the "oven light" button at least 27 times to get a foggy sneak peek of what is unravelling in my oven. All the while, I’m developing an ulcer.

3 nights ago... I had one of those nights. And no, wine was not involved. I decided I was going to be crazy! And by crazy, I mean... cheesecake crazy. From scratch. It was time to face my fears. And it was time to be insane.

I started with the crust. 2 cups of graham cracker crumbs (I used cinnamon ones... 'cause the more calories, the better!) melted butter, and 2 tablespoons of sugar. Mixed it all up, until it was lumpy and pressed it into a spring form pan. (After sending my hubby into the wild world of baking pans to buy one for me. Never actually thought I would need one of these suckers!)

Then I made the filling. 4 packages of cream cheese, 1 1/2 cups of sugar, 3 tablespoons of flour, 5 eggs, 1 cup of sour cream, 1 tablespoon of vanilla, and 1 tablespoon of lemon juice. Normal, right? Ohhh no... the wild baking beast in me was roaring! So... I melted about 1 1/2 cups of white chocolate chips in the microwave... and added it to the mix. Ohhh Myyyy Goshhh.....

As if I wasn’t already feeling like I had fallen completely of my gosh darned rocker... I added these little gifts from God. Ya, Macadamia nuts.

What you’re looking at right now, Ladies and Gentlemen... is the creation I like to call... PERFECT. But don’t get excited just yet...

Because, I have a short story to tell.
 (By the way, the only thing short about me is my height of 5'3. Nothing I do or say is ever short... so just deal with me, will ya?)

Anyway, Never in my life have a used a spring form pan. So, I stuck this crazy creation of mine in my oven of 325 degrees. Not realizing that a spring form pan isnt WELDED together. And, 30 minutes later... my entire house was full of smoke. EVERYWHERE! Hubby ran to open the back door, while I turned the oven off and opened it... then I proceeded to swing the front door back and forth to let the house air a bit, while hubby waved a kitchen towel around the smoke detector and prayed it wouldnt go off and wake up the neighbors, since it was 11pm on a Thursday night. Yes, I was making cheesecake at 11pm. Why? I dunno. But I’m glad my hubby puts up with my insane and crazy behaviour!

Moral of this story? Burned drippings on the bottom of the stove, well... sucks. And stinks. And causes a lot of smoke... and causes your husband to yell a bunch of obscenities. But... It didn’t phase me... because I was feeling crazy... remember???

So.... I took the half baked cheesecake out of the smoky oven. And proceeded to mop up burned drippings out of the bottom of my HOT oven with paper towels. (Kids, don’t try this at home) My cheesecake was going to be baked, whether my smoky house or irritated husband liked it or NOT!

And THIS is what I got after I stuck it back into the oven. This time, I put the spring form pan on top of a baking pan... so that the drippings wouldn’t drip, and burn, and cause my husband to hang me from my eye lids.

You know something is good when you find yourself calling out to Jesus as you suck up the crumbs.

I made some white chocolate shavings to dress up the top, and cream cheese cake frosting to fancy up the sides a bit.

STOP drooling!

Oh. My. Yum.

I decided something needed to balance out the amazing richness of this lustful dessert, so I whipped up some homemade whipped cream. (1 cup heavy cream, 1/4 cup sugar, and 1 teaspoon of vanilla).... whisk it up on high in your mixer for a few minutes, and ta da!

You have yourself a ridiculous, huge, rich, creamy piece of White Chocolate Macadamia Nut Cheesecake, with the light, airy, subtle sweetness of homemade Whipped Cream.

Ok, you can stop breathing heavy. I’m done feeling crazy.

For now.

Crust:
2 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs

2 Tbsp sugar

1/2 cup butter, melted

Cheesecake filling:

4 (8oz.) packages cream cheese

1 1/2 cups sugar

3 Tbsp flour

5 eggs

1 cup sour cream

1 Tbsp vanilla

1 Tbsp lemon juice

Handful of Macadamia nuts to sprinkle in

1 1/2 cups, melted white chocolate

Preheat oven to 325 degrees

Combine graham cracker crumbs and sugar.

Stir in melted butter until moistened.

Pour the mixture into a 9-inch spring form pan

Press the crumbs into the bottom and 1 inch up the sides of the pan.

Bake for about 10 minutes. Remove and cool to room temperature.

Sprinkle with handful of Macadamia nuts

To make the cheesecake filling, cream the sugar, cream cheese and flour with an electric mixer on medium until light and fluffy.

On medium, add eggs one at a time, mixing well with each addition.

On low, add sour cream, lemon juice and vanilla just until combined.

Go ahead and add the white chocolate.

Pour over nuts and crust

Bake for about 1 hour and 15 minutes at 325.

Make sure the edges look done, and the middle looks like it might be a bit.... undercooked. It continues to cook while it’s cooling. It should wobble a bit, but not too much. Just trust me; you will know when it’s done.

Remove cheesecake from pan once it has cooled.

Stick it on a fancy cake platter.

And do whatever your heart desires to make it all fanciful and pretty like.

I have faith that you will love this, and add it to your crazy day list of recipes.

Do it.

 I double dog dare ya.

Tonsils=Hate

There is light at the end of my tunnel.

Turns out, my tonsils hate me.

So, They're being scrapped out in 1 week.

1 week.

So much for...... preparing?

1 week is definitely not enough time to eat all my favorite foods before I take the plunge into being a MUTE for 3-4 weeks.

Ya, 3-4 weeks.

Thank you, adulthood for making the good 'ole tonsillectomy a pain in the freakin rear.

Now I'm convinced being a kid is way better then being a tax doing, bill paying, laundry doing adult. Because TONSILS are easy when you're 5.

At 24, you have put them through too many years of whatever it is you do with tonsils.

So, they are now protesting, and jamming picket signs into the side of my throat.

So... Good bye tonsils!

Hellllllloooo baby food, popsicles, and Gatorade.

Good bye pizza, steak, and bagels.

Hello, weak stomach

Goodbye, pounds. And pounds. and more pounds.

Wishful thinking?

Hope not.

And Hello, weekend before the big ole surgery.

Maybe Ill make cookies in the shape of my tonsils?

no, that's just gross.

Ill figure something out. Something not so tonsil pleasing.

Peace out, Tonsils. I never liked you anyway!