Well folks, I'm in the third week of my triathlon training and I'm not going to lie - it feels great! The weather has been cooperating thus far so my pool workouts have been heavenly. For someone like me, getting a workout is incidental to enjoying the sun and being in the water. Some days I push it and some days I take it easy, but the important part is that I'm spending time in the water at least 3 days a week.
I've also starting adding in some outdoor cycling workouts on top of my spinning classes. Now that I've mastered getting out of my clipless pedals (full embarrassing story with pics plus a clipless pedals tutorial coming soon), I'm really starting to pick up the pace on my bike. I've been averaging about 22 miles an hour on the flat road and like the pool, feeling the wind in my hair (under my helmet of course) is its own guilty pleasure. I could stay out for hours and it's with disappointment that I pack it up at the end of a ride.
Then there's the run. Oh, what to say about the run. While I've definitely grown more fond of running since my 9-month marathon journey, it's still the most difficult of the three for me. Whereas cycling and swimming are effortless and blissful, every time I lace on my shoes, it's a fight to the finish line. The interesting thing is that because of the challenge, I always feel a huge sense of accomplishment after my run workouts.
So far, I've been meeting my goal of 10 workouts a week. I'm spending countless hours outdoors and loving life in general. I think that's the secret to all of this. Working out truly isn't a chore for me. I love every minute of it and I'm so thankful that I have the time to do it. If you've been struggling with working out, find out what it is that you love to do. I love swimming and cycling while my husband is really into mountain biking and rock climbing. There are countless of ways to get moving, the important thing is that you just do it.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Steak With Balsamic Reduction Sauce
Even though I'm not a carnivore anymore, I still cook meat on a regular basis for the Irishman and Parker. This particular recipe is one that the Irishman could eat on an almost daily basis and it also was the first red meat that Parker ever ate...and liked!
The ingredients are: steak, black pepper, 2 tablespoons butter, olive oil and 1/2 cup balsamic vinegar. I usually pair the balsamic sauce with a ribeye, but our local co-op had these great top sirloins, so I picked one up for the Irishman.
I want to bring your attention to the fact that this organic, grass fed top sirloin was less than $5 for 11 ounces. Good quality and humanely raised beef doesn't have to cost more - just go check out your local co-op.
Ok, now you're going to liberally crack fresh pepper on your steak. Go ahead and sprinkle some salt as well.
With your saute pan on med-high heat, add in a couple of tablespoons of olive oil and 1 tablespoon of butter to the pan. Once the butter melts, add in your steak, peppered side down. Go ahead and add pepper and salt to the other side of the steak once it''s in the pan.
After about 3-4 minutes, flip your steak and turn down the heat to medium. Look at that gorgeous caramelized crust.
Once the steak is done to your liking (the Irishman prefers his medium-rare) move it to a plate while you make the sauce.
Once the steak is out of the pan, add in your 1/2 cup of balsamic vinegar...
when it starts bubbling, turn the heat down to low and whisk continuously. (It's very important that you don't burn the balsamic vinegar, so make sure you turn it down.)
While you whisk, you want your balsamic to reduce by half. In other words, you want the 1/2 cup to reduce down to 1/4 cup. I usually just tip the pan to see where it's at and when it is the consistency of pancake syrup, it's usually done. As an aside, when you cook balsamic vinegar, you cook off the bitterness and what is left is a sweet, deep flavor.
Now, whisk in the other tablespoon of butter.
Once the butter is melted, pour the reduction over the steak.
I wish that I had a "finished" picture to show you, but the Irishman was standing behind me for the last 5 minutes of this recipe and literally snatched the plate up the second that I finished pouring the sauce. So, while I didn't taste it myself, I took absolute silence of the next 7 minutes to indicate that it was, indeed, a winner.
The ingredients are: steak, black pepper, 2 tablespoons butter, olive oil and 1/2 cup balsamic vinegar. I usually pair the balsamic sauce with a ribeye, but our local co-op had these great top sirloins, so I picked one up for the Irishman.
I want to bring your attention to the fact that this organic, grass fed top sirloin was less than $5 for 11 ounces. Good quality and humanely raised beef doesn't have to cost more - just go check out your local co-op.
Ok, now you're going to liberally crack fresh pepper on your steak. Go ahead and sprinkle some salt as well.
With your saute pan on med-high heat, add in a couple of tablespoons of olive oil and 1 tablespoon of butter to the pan. Once the butter melts, add in your steak, peppered side down. Go ahead and add pepper and salt to the other side of the steak once it''s in the pan.
After about 3-4 minutes, flip your steak and turn down the heat to medium. Look at that gorgeous caramelized crust.
Once the steak is done to your liking (the Irishman prefers his medium-rare) move it to a plate while you make the sauce.
Once the steak is out of the pan, add in your 1/2 cup of balsamic vinegar...
when it starts bubbling, turn the heat down to low and whisk continuously. (It's very important that you don't burn the balsamic vinegar, so make sure you turn it down.)
While you whisk, you want your balsamic to reduce by half. In other words, you want the 1/2 cup to reduce down to 1/4 cup. I usually just tip the pan to see where it's at and when it is the consistency of pancake syrup, it's usually done. As an aside, when you cook balsamic vinegar, you cook off the bitterness and what is left is a sweet, deep flavor.
Now, whisk in the other tablespoon of butter.
Once the butter is melted, pour the reduction over the steak.
I wish that I had a "finished" picture to show you, but the Irishman was standing behind me for the last 5 minutes of this recipe and literally snatched the plate up the second that I finished pouring the sauce. So, while I didn't taste it myself, I took absolute silence of the next 7 minutes to indicate that it was, indeed, a winner.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Pink Explosion
So, I'm not really a "pink" kind of girl.
In fact, I generally steer clear of all things pink.
I know that I have a pink stripe on Mo, my road bike,
but that's only because she didn't come in any other color.
So, I find it a bit ironic that every single flower in my yard...
is blooming neon pink! Life is full of mysteries.
In fact, I generally steer clear of all things pink.
I know that I have a pink stripe on Mo, my road bike,
but that's only because she didn't come in any other color.
So, I find it a bit ironic that every single flower in my yard...
is blooming neon pink! Life is full of mysteries.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Disney On The Brain
Ever since we took our trip to Disney for my marathon a couple of months ago, Parker has developed an affinity for all things Disney. We used to be a PBS-only family - Curious George, Thomas The Train, Super Why - and I liked that about us. PBS is for kids what NPR is for adults. I felt like we were outside of the rampant commercialism that I used to associate with all things Disney. Parker was a burgeoning intellectual with refined cartoon tastes and now, well, now...things have changed.
Oh how things have changed. As you can see in exhibit A, he now has his "Mickey hat" that he likes to wear when he watches Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Imagination Movers and Little Einsteins. He's learning the songs and requesting the products. He's embraced the Mickey culture and it's all we can do to not show our blatant preference for our old shows. To be honest with you, I really miss Curious George. Sure, Parker still loves his Thomas The Train stuff and he still asks to watch it once and a while, but it just isn't the same anymore.
There is one thing that makes me feel better. He insists on wearing his hat backwards so that the "Parker" is front and center. Way to be a rebel, Parker. Stick to your guns and don't let Mickey, or anyone else, tell you to conform. You just go on showing them who's boss.
Oh how things have changed. As you can see in exhibit A, he now has his "Mickey hat" that he likes to wear when he watches Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Imagination Movers and Little Einsteins. He's learning the songs and requesting the products. He's embraced the Mickey culture and it's all we can do to not show our blatant preference for our old shows. To be honest with you, I really miss Curious George. Sure, Parker still loves his Thomas The Train stuff and he still asks to watch it once and a while, but it just isn't the same anymore.
There is one thing that makes me feel better. He insists on wearing his hat backwards so that the "Parker" is front and center. Way to be a rebel, Parker. Stick to your guns and don't let Mickey, or anyone else, tell you to conform. You just go on showing them who's boss.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Pasta Fagioli
I have a couple of easy meals that I keep as "go to" meals when I either (1) haven't planned something else to make, or (2) don't feel like going through a more complicated prep for dinner. One of those meals is Pasta Fagioli. It's warming, it's filling, it's tasty and best of all, it's super easy!
Here are the ingredients:
2 stalks celery
2 carrots
1 large onion
3 cloves garlic
1 can diced tomatoes
1 can Great Northern beans
1/2 cup Ditalini pasta
1 teaspoon basil
dash of paprika and cayenne pepper
Put a couple Tablespoons of olive oil in your soup pot and throw in the diced carrots, onions, celery and garlic. Saute for about 10 minutes to soften your veggies.
Add your can of tomatoes...
and two cans of water as well....
so it looks like this.
Now we're going to add in our basil (and what's with my wrinkly hand??)...
Cayenne and paprika (in case you didn't know, the raised pointer finger while sprinkling spices is the equivalent of raising your pinky while drinking tea. It makes you look more sophisticated)...
and simmer for 30 minutes. Once the 30 minutes are up, add your drained and rinsed beans (I happened to just drain and rinse them in own can because I'm a freak about making the fewest amount of dishes possible).
Now, bring your soup up to a boil and add in a 1/2 cup of Ditalini pasta. Once your pasta is in, reduce the heat to medium and cook an additional 15 minutes.
Once your soup is done, add some salt and pepper and dish it up. I like to add grated parm.
Oh and that pasty white and veiny hand does not belong to my Greek self. That's the Irishman, who was hovering the entire time that dinner was cooking because he was starving and the smell was luring him into the kitchen. Here's our finished product.
This soup only makes about 4 big servings in our house, so if you have a bigger family, go ahead and double the recipe. Enjoy!
Monday, March 16, 2009
Rakes and Snakes
Saturday started off normal enough - I went for a 6-mile run and then taught a spinning class. As I pulled into my driveway, I noticed that there were a ton of leaves piled up around the two tree clusters that flank the driveway. Knowing that we're possibly listing our house on the market and that two flower beds would be nice for curb appeal, I decided on the spur of the moment that something should be done about the leaf situation. In typical Cyn fashion, I thought, "How long can it possibly take to rake them up? One hour, two?? Piece of cake." Fortunately, Parker and the Irishman were at a St. Patrick's Day function with some friends, so there was no one to intercept me or to question my judgment.
So, I left my stuff just inside the garage and, since I was already sweaty from working out, I got right to work on raking the leaves. And I raked. And I raked some more. Once I had about 6 huge leaf piles, I started bagging them up just to switch up the routine. Before I knew it, I had filled ten 30-gallon bags and I had barely made a dent in the leaves. This was not a good sign.
Not one to be deterred, I attacked those stupid leaves with a vengeance. I kept trying to go faster and faster thinking that if I paused, I would realize that noon was probably not the best time of the day to start this project. However, start it I did and I would be damned if I didn't finish it. As an aside, if scientists ever wanted to study stubbornness, my DNA would be a good starting point. Ok, back to the story.
In the meantime, Parker and the Irishman had returned from a St. Patty's day parade and they had both settled down for a nap. In the air conditioned house. In soft beds. With well-rested muscles. Not that I was bitter or anything since the entire leaf-raking thing was of my own doing, but I was starting to get dehydrated and fatigued, so I finally went inside to get some water.
When I looked at the clock, it was 3pm. I had been raking and bagging leaves for three straight hours after I had already worked out for two hours that morning. Oy! This was not going to be good...but, a job still needed to be finished, so I grabbed some water and headed back outside.
I got about one more hour in when my resolve broke. Mind you, it had nothing to do with my screaming arms and everything to do with the snake that I had disturbed in the center of the tree cluster. It appears that this snake took offense to my raking, so he (she?) coiled back and started attacking my rake. It took me a second to figure out if I was just hallucinating, but once I decided that the little pink mouth really was open and ready to strike, I threw down the rake and sprinted inside.
Now, there are quite a few things that I don't mind dealing with on my own, but attacking snakes is not one of them. I was not about to be the poster child for "Florida is the Venomous Snake Capital of the World" campaign. So, I did what any self-respecting woman would do...I sent my husband out to finish the job. There was no way that one little possibly-venomous snake was going to prevent the raking from getting done. I just wasn't going to be the one to do it.
And so it went that the Irishman went out and spent the next two hours finishing the raking and bagging of the leaves (without an appearance from the snake). I took a hot shower to soothe my tired muscles and Parker ran around the house singing, "Sssssss goes the snake. The snake goes Sssssssss."
P.S. Coming up this week, I'll be posting a recipe for Pasta Fagioli as well as sharing a tutorial on how to make an adorable desert that will make you look like a baking rock star.
So, I left my stuff just inside the garage and, since I was already sweaty from working out, I got right to work on raking the leaves. And I raked. And I raked some more. Once I had about 6 huge leaf piles, I started bagging them up just to switch up the routine. Before I knew it, I had filled ten 30-gallon bags and I had barely made a dent in the leaves. This was not a good sign.
Not one to be deterred, I attacked those stupid leaves with a vengeance. I kept trying to go faster and faster thinking that if I paused, I would realize that noon was probably not the best time of the day to start this project. However, start it I did and I would be damned if I didn't finish it. As an aside, if scientists ever wanted to study stubbornness, my DNA would be a good starting point. Ok, back to the story.
In the meantime, Parker and the Irishman had returned from a St. Patty's day parade and they had both settled down for a nap. In the air conditioned house. In soft beds. With well-rested muscles. Not that I was bitter or anything since the entire leaf-raking thing was of my own doing, but I was starting to get dehydrated and fatigued, so I finally went inside to get some water.
When I looked at the clock, it was 3pm. I had been raking and bagging leaves for three straight hours after I had already worked out for two hours that morning. Oy! This was not going to be good...but, a job still needed to be finished, so I grabbed some water and headed back outside.
I got about one more hour in when my resolve broke. Mind you, it had nothing to do with my screaming arms and everything to do with the snake that I had disturbed in the center of the tree cluster. It appears that this snake took offense to my raking, so he (she?) coiled back and started attacking my rake. It took me a second to figure out if I was just hallucinating, but once I decided that the little pink mouth really was open and ready to strike, I threw down the rake and sprinted inside.
Now, there are quite a few things that I don't mind dealing with on my own, but attacking snakes is not one of them. I was not about to be the poster child for "Florida is the Venomous Snake Capital of the World" campaign. So, I did what any self-respecting woman would do...I sent my husband out to finish the job. There was no way that one little possibly-venomous snake was going to prevent the raking from getting done. I just wasn't going to be the one to do it.
And so it went that the Irishman went out and spent the next two hours finishing the raking and bagging of the leaves (without an appearance from the snake). I took a hot shower to soothe my tired muscles and Parker ran around the house singing, "Sssssss goes the snake. The snake goes Sssssssss."
P.S. Coming up this week, I'll be posting a recipe for Pasta Fagioli as well as sharing a tutorial on how to make an adorable desert that will make you look like a baking rock star.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
History
As we get ready to pack it up and move to North Carolina, I can't help but reflect on all of the years that I've lived in Tallahassee. I was 17 when I moved up here and I'm currently headed towards my 31st birthday. It feels like I've lived so many different lives over the last 13 years. Join me on a trip down memory lane, won't you?
I vividly remember the day I moved into my freshman dorm. Standing outside of Kellum Hall, I was so green and unsure of everything. I was living in a strange town and I had a long-distance boyfriend who I missed like crazy. In those first timid months, my family became my sorority sisters and the Delta Zeta house was my second home. As I became comfortable with college life, everything picked up speed. From the football games to the parties to the insane crazy fun of spring weekends to study abroad in Paris, my undergraduate experience was everything I could have hoped for. My memory of those undergrad years is like being in a dark club with strobe lights casting reflections on all of the surfaces. Everything was so bright and chaotic, but I definitely mastered the art of living in the moment. Oh yeah, and I somehow managed to get an education at the same time.
I always knew that there was a good chance that I would go to graduate school since I liked learning and I was a natural student. Plus, it delayed having to get a real job. Fortunately, Florida State had an excellent criminology program and they accepted me so I entered phase II of Tallahassee living.
I moved into an apartment and then into a different one. My long-distance boyfriend and I broke up (much to the relief of my parents) and I began to seriously explore the different aspects of criminology that interested me. I began working with violent male offenders in two different prisons and I volunteered at the local police department answering non-emergency calls and filing police reports. Most of my undergrad friends graduated and moved away so I phased in a new set of friends from grad school. My Masters degree went by in a flash (just under two years) and I figured that since I was already there, I might as well go ahead and get a Ph.D.
During this time, otherwise known as phase III, the Irishman and I began dating and we both knew that it was pretty serious right off the bat. He had been my best friend since high school and we knew each other about as well as you can know anyone. Also around this time, I started working at my first real job, the death penalty commission, and I was into the hardcore part of my Ph.D. Little did I know that the hardcore part lasted about 5 years. My memory of this phase involves a lot of coffee and loooooong hours of studying in coffee shops, libraries, bookstores and at home. This was also when I started running. In retrospect, I now know that I was trying to exhaust myself so that I could turn my brain off.
We got married and bought a house the same semester that I sat for my Ph.D. comprehensive exams. I have little to no recollection of that entire semester, but I survived it and plowed on with my dissertation. I also got a full-time job at a law enforcement agency and started teaching classes at the university. In theory, I was officially a full-fledged adult, but I didn't remotely feel like it. The first couple years of our marriage were crazy. I was out of the house from 6am-7pm six days a week and I was quickly approaching burn out. Fortunately, I was also quickly approaching the end of my degree, which was eagerly anticipated by both of us.
And then on February 26, 2006, I got a positive pregnancy test. And the world shifted. I remember looking in the mirror that morning and seeing the shock on my own face. I remember thinking, "I'm going to be a mother" and truly in that moment, nothing else mattered. Everything became secondary to protecting the little person growing inside of me. The next nine months were wonderful. I had a near flawless pregnancy and I loved almost every minute of it. I still sometimes dream that Parker is still moving inside of my belly and my heart just flops over in my chest.
He was born November 12th and then it was back to reality. I was still working on my dissertation (in fact, I only took off two weeks after his birth), and I began working full-time from home for the law enforcement agency. Oh yeah, and Parker was home with me. I don't know how I did it and quite frankly, I've blocked a lot of the chaos out of my brain, but I did do it and I got to stay home with him for 16 wonderful months.
The last and most recent phase involves Parker being in school, me working in academia and us adjusting to life with a toddler. Most of the time, it's total craziness, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Parker is the light of my life and he brings so much laughter and happiness into this house. I've also found a nice balance between being "mom" and being my own person. I've learned to be selfish about getting what I need because a happier Cyn is a better mom.
As I drive through town every day, I see evidence of every single aspect of my life in Tallahassee - some memories that I'd rather forget and some memories that I treasure. It's been a crazy ride, but I think I'm ready to put Tallahassee behind me. I did all of the growing that I needed to do here and now it's time for a change. For myself, for Parker and for our little family. So let's bring on the new memories, for better and for worse.
I vividly remember the day I moved into my freshman dorm. Standing outside of Kellum Hall, I was so green and unsure of everything. I was living in a strange town and I had a long-distance boyfriend who I missed like crazy. In those first timid months, my family became my sorority sisters and the Delta Zeta house was my second home. As I became comfortable with college life, everything picked up speed. From the football games to the parties to the insane crazy fun of spring weekends to study abroad in Paris, my undergraduate experience was everything I could have hoped for. My memory of those undergrad years is like being in a dark club with strobe lights casting reflections on all of the surfaces. Everything was so bright and chaotic, but I definitely mastered the art of living in the moment. Oh yeah, and I somehow managed to get an education at the same time.
I always knew that there was a good chance that I would go to graduate school since I liked learning and I was a natural student. Plus, it delayed having to get a real job. Fortunately, Florida State had an excellent criminology program and they accepted me so I entered phase II of Tallahassee living.
I moved into an apartment and then into a different one. My long-distance boyfriend and I broke up (much to the relief of my parents) and I began to seriously explore the different aspects of criminology that interested me. I began working with violent male offenders in two different prisons and I volunteered at the local police department answering non-emergency calls and filing police reports. Most of my undergrad friends graduated and moved away so I phased in a new set of friends from grad school. My Masters degree went by in a flash (just under two years) and I figured that since I was already there, I might as well go ahead and get a Ph.D.
During this time, otherwise known as phase III, the Irishman and I began dating and we both knew that it was pretty serious right off the bat. He had been my best friend since high school and we knew each other about as well as you can know anyone. Also around this time, I started working at my first real job, the death penalty commission, and I was into the hardcore part of my Ph.D. Little did I know that the hardcore part lasted about 5 years. My memory of this phase involves a lot of coffee and loooooong hours of studying in coffee shops, libraries, bookstores and at home. This was also when I started running. In retrospect, I now know that I was trying to exhaust myself so that I could turn my brain off.
We got married and bought a house the same semester that I sat for my Ph.D. comprehensive exams. I have little to no recollection of that entire semester, but I survived it and plowed on with my dissertation. I also got a full-time job at a law enforcement agency and started teaching classes at the university. In theory, I was officially a full-fledged adult, but I didn't remotely feel like it. The first couple years of our marriage were crazy. I was out of the house from 6am-7pm six days a week and I was quickly approaching burn out. Fortunately, I was also quickly approaching the end of my degree, which was eagerly anticipated by both of us.
And then on February 26, 2006, I got a positive pregnancy test. And the world shifted. I remember looking in the mirror that morning and seeing the shock on my own face. I remember thinking, "I'm going to be a mother" and truly in that moment, nothing else mattered. Everything became secondary to protecting the little person growing inside of me. The next nine months were wonderful. I had a near flawless pregnancy and I loved almost every minute of it. I still sometimes dream that Parker is still moving inside of my belly and my heart just flops over in my chest.
He was born November 12th and then it was back to reality. I was still working on my dissertation (in fact, I only took off two weeks after his birth), and I began working full-time from home for the law enforcement agency. Oh yeah, and Parker was home with me. I don't know how I did it and quite frankly, I've blocked a lot of the chaos out of my brain, but I did do it and I got to stay home with him for 16 wonderful months.
The last and most recent phase involves Parker being in school, me working in academia and us adjusting to life with a toddler. Most of the time, it's total craziness, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Parker is the light of my life and he brings so much laughter and happiness into this house. I've also found a nice balance between being "mom" and being my own person. I've learned to be selfish about getting what I need because a happier Cyn is a better mom.
As I drive through town every day, I see evidence of every single aspect of my life in Tallahassee - some memories that I'd rather forget and some memories that I treasure. It's been a crazy ride, but I think I'm ready to put Tallahassee behind me. I did all of the growing that I needed to do here and now it's time for a change. For myself, for Parker and for our little family. So let's bring on the new memories, for better and for worse.
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