Happy Birthday, Jackson!

As we prepared for our nation's birthday, we also celebrated another special birthday in our house...Jackson's first.

Jackson has turned out to be a great dog, even if he has his Marley & Me moments, but he completely redeems any wrongdoing by snuggling. Every morning, he crawls into bed, and lays on his back, just smiling and getting his pets in for the day.

Jackson is a true lab; he loves to fetch and swim. We are truly lucky to live so close to the beach and are able to take him there almost every weekend. One of this favorite things to do is fetch found objects, which is usually the biggest stick he can find.

We like to call Jackson our dump truck because he will literally eat anything. He has yet to find some floor food that he won't devour.

So in memory of his first birthday, I have compiled a list of all the nonfood items Jackson has consumed in the past year. And they are:

Bleach
Charcoal
Earplugs
Two remotes
Three bras
A battery
Entire USB jump drive
No less than 3 pairs of shoes
A rug
Countless Japanese stink bugs
One book
His pedigree
An aluminum can
Lucy's collar and rabies tag
An entire pack of socks
Two boxer briefs
Four razor blades
A Christmas ornament
A permanent marker
Nerf dart
Mascara
Styrofoam
All styrofoam white poop
Duck decoy
Beer
Vinegar
Two throw pillows
Eyeglass lens
Half a pack of cigarettes
A few days of birth control
Expo markers
Sidewalk chalk
Bounce sheets

Happy first birthday, buddy, hopefully we'll have many more to share together!

I've Been Banned

My name is Sarah, and at the tender age of 27,  I have been banned...

From using the microwave.

I was approached by those nearest and dearest to me and have been told the abuse has gone on long enough. Really, I don't even see the problem.

I mean, I've always been a very responsible microwave owner. I reset it to zero almost every time, rarely make it beep more than once, and I wipe it down with a wet rag every so often. I guess there was that ONE time in college...but we all make mistakes, no?

Oh, you didn't know about that incident? Well, it was Mark's fault, really. I asked him to make me hot chocolate, like any good, loving boyfriend should be dying to do. But no.

"Make your own!" he said.

Fine. But my cup was dirty. My special little santa mug, specifically designed for MY use at HIS apartment had been used. Who are these people? Show some respect.

"My cup is dirttyyyyyy," I said, no whining in my voice at all. None.

Always the thinker, he responded, "Well, then use the one I used earlier."

And there it was. Shiny and silver in all of its stainless steel glory, waiting to hold my hot chocolate. So I filled it up with my cocoa mix and water and walked towards the microwave.

Hmmm....this is insulated, so I will probably need more than the usual amount of time.

I opened the door, punched in 5:00, placed my cup inside, and walked away...like a boss. Who's getting it done? Who's handling the business? This chick right here.

Source: Google

BOOM!

"What the hell was that?" Mark asked.

I told him I don't know, now shut up and pay attention to me. God....greedy.

BOOM!

At the point, he runs out of the room.

"OH MY GOD! WHAT THE F@*%!?"

So there was a small fire in kitchen. What a drama queen. That poor little microwave though...she didn't pull through.

But it's fine. I got him and his roommate a brand new, shinier microwave. And it was ten times better than that old hunk of junk.

And we all learned a valuable lesson: never microwave metal. Check.

Then there's today. Again, mostly Mark's fault. He undercooked my bacon, shoved it into a plastic container, and told me to finish cooking it at work.

Fine.

I put my little bacon basket of love and goodness into the microwave, cranked it to 3:00 (yeah, we're old school), and walked away. I got work to do, man.

When I returned, it smelled like burnt bacon. Crap. Mistimed that one. Whatever. Fat girl eats what fat girl gets.

I pulled it out of the microwave and my hand felt like it was dipped in paraffin wax.

Kind of like this. But not the real thing. Source: learntocookbadgergirl.com

I had no choice but to abandon the bacon and run. No one can know that it was me. I sat back down, nonchalant. One of my co-workers gets up and walks around. He comes back and ask if that's my bacon permeating throughout the building. No, Nosy Nellie.

I told Mark about my accident at lunch, and he has since child proofed the microwave, which means he better be ready to make me LOTS OF HOT CHOCOLATE from here on out.

Nightmares Take Flight

So I have been repeatedly badgered by my numerous fans (read: my brother and close friend) about when I was going to write in my blog again. I kept telling them that nothing has really been going on...or possibly nothing I found blog-worthy was happening.

Truth is, a lot has been going on. I started Crossfit and eating Paleo, but honestly, who cares to hear about that? All that needs to be said is I eat my body weight in bacon weekly, and try to embrace the suck while not throwing up during a WOD.

And eating a lot of eggs...from a vending machine. 

That should last a week.

Also, things like this have been occupying our weekends...

Jackson's first trip to the beach as an adult doggie.

They had so much fun.

And, of course, the usual grocery shopping roulette...

Going to miss the hot drinks from vending machines.

The quest for green tea Kit Kats has finally ended.

But the most notable happening has been our accidental discovery of Kabushima...or more commonly known as Seagull Island.

Seagull Island. A whole island. Of birds. My nemesis.

Thanks to a work vacation to Hawaii, I think most of those nearest and dearest to me are aware of my irrational fear of winged creatures. Not even a strong dislike...a pure, crippling fear.

I was aware of Seagull Island before this past weekend, and I knew it was in Hachinohe, a town near our home. However, I did not have the exact location of said island. So when Mark suggested we just drive around Hachinohe until the restaurant opened that we had planned on visiting, I was all in.

It all happened so suddenly. One minute we were searching for the swimming beach, the next we were pulling in to a parking lot covered in bird feces and feathers.

Mark turns to me, grin wider than his pedophile-like mustache. (I HATE Mustache March!) Gears shift to park. Heart palpitation become frequent, almost normal. Mark spots a small, covered booth near the car and gets out. He turns with that same stupid grin on his face, shaking a bag of shrimp chips.

F%$^*!

And then he opened the car door. This is what happened....

And then this movie started filming, starring me.

Mark got in the car and I thought my nightmare was over. False.

And once my heart beat got as close to normal as possible, he sprang this on me.

Keeping to his promise, he got out of the car, after rolling up my window, to feed the birds what was left.

So happy there's glass between us.

I included this one only because Mark's face is hilarious.

Emptying the bag.

Nightmares taking flight.

As for that restaurant, we never found it, so we ended up back in Misawa at the Cake House, a little cafe I've been dying to try. I think I deserved it after that afternoon.

Delicious non-paleo spaghetti. 

Banana tea! It was awesome.

Little cheesecake, fresh strawberries (which taste better in Japan), and homemade ice cream.

The take away lesson from all of this is to keep your fears hidden deep inside of you. Never let your family or friends find out. Because they're all a-holes. Also, sorry about the video quality. YouTube hates the iPhone.

Frosty Weasel

This past weekend was Frosty Weasel, a huge three day ski trip to Appi Kogen. Kogen is a Japanese word meaning plateau or heights. Our neighbor was in charge of planning the trip, so needless to say, we signed up for the trip.

On Saturday morning, we dropped the pups off at my boss's house (she's a lifesaver) and picked up some new friends who got here a few days earlier and didn't have drivers' licenses yet.

Map of Appi

We got to the resort around 2 p.m., checked in, and immediately changed into our ski gear. Based on my first ski attempt, I was already working myself up into a tizzy, but there was no time to spare, as our neighbors were on their way to meet up with us.

Our neighbor, Tapper, has been skiing since he was three, so he volunteered to teach me during the weekend. Once they got there, we walked a little and skied down a small hill (on the map it's the green run next to K, where it intersects) to get to the chairlift. This is where my lessons began. I did well in the fact that I didn't fall down at all, though if you ask Mark, it was nothing to be proud of. He's so encouraging.

At the bottom, they asked how everyone was feeling, would we rather do the lift or the gondola? I voted for whichever one was more shallow. This was the gondola apparently, and probably the wrong choice.

So we took our skis off, and got in the gondola. The gondola was nice in that I didn't feel like I was going to fall off at every moment. However, that calm soon disappeared when Tapper told us to get comfy because we would be on it for at least 15 minutes. 15 freaking minutes? How big is this damn mountain?! Long, I soon found out.

Gondola house (blue building). It was crazy windy all weekend.

We went down route I, or the Yamabato Run, on the map. That run is 5 kilometers, or just a little over 3 miles. Tapper skied backwards the whole time, and had me work on skiing to him. I went out of control a few times, and he stopped me. Mark tried to stop me once, and I now have a lovely bruise from his ski pole on my leg.

Eventually, Mark and Tapper's wife, Nicole, got sick of waiting for me to slowly ski down the hill, so they took off, leaving me to learn with Tapper.

There were numerous awkward moments, like when I lost my balance and put my hands on the ground and my skis started going backwards, with my butt waving in the air. After struggling in that position for far too long, I fell and tried again. I also fell into some deep powder, which was awesome getting a mouthful of snow as Tapper laughed at me. I flailed around for about 20 minutes trying to get out of that, until finally Tapper took my skis off and pulled me out.

By this point, we're about halfway down the mountain and my legs and butt are on fire and it's starting to get dark. I never knew I was so out of shape until this moment. At this point I asked Tapper about the possibility of a snow machine coming and getting me. He said no, but he had a plan.

"Okay, Sarah, I'm going to get you down the mountain, but you have to trust me."

I agree and he reaches out his ski poles towards me horizontally. I didn't have any poles to worry about; he took those away from me as soon as we got off the lift, saying they were throwing me off balance and I didn't know how to use them.


"Sarah. Grab on to my poles, so to speak, don't let go and please, for the love of God, don't fall."

I do as I'm told, positioning my skis between his. Tapper then maneuvers us down the hill, skiing backwards the whole time. We were going fast. Straight down, no pizza.

"OH MY GOD! TAPPER! I'm so scared. I'm so scared. I'm so scared. SH!T!!"

I screamed the whole way down. I focused on his shoulder, trying not to look at the trees and other skiers we whizzed past. We made it safely to the bottom, just as it started to get dark and just in time to get ready for dinner. No longer gripped by fear, I realized I hadn't eaten since breakfast and was extremely hungry.

Dinner was a buffet, that had some American-ish looking items on it, which was unexpected and awesome. Our accommodations were standard Japanese - small and uncomfortable. I barely fit in the bathroom and the beds came up to my mid-calf. The pillows were literally filled with rice. As I learned in college, when presented with an uncomfortable sleeping arrangement, drink yourself through it!

Gathering up courage for the lift (to the right).

I woke up the second day sore, probably a combination of my ski "run" and the bed board we slept on. We ate the buffet breakfast, which wasn't as good as the dinner, but had some awesome items on it.

I'm sorry, you did what with the plums?

I took it easy the second day and only went down the beginner run, the Shirakaba run (A and highlighted pink on the map). This was the moment that Mark and I decided that we cannot ski together ever again. We got into a large couples battle on the side of the mountain, consisting of me freaking out about about going too fast (I wasn't) and Mark being patient with me and letting me go at my own pace (he didn't). The best part about the entire thing is since we're in Japan no one can understand us, especially if we use slang.

They love making snow creatures. This one was huge - the eyes are actually tires, to put it to scale.

We took a lunch break after the first run, which was delicious. I got the meat-filled bun things, can't remember what those are called, and a Chu-Hi, the sneakiest form of alcohol ever. It goes down way too easy and tastes like sunshine.

Meat buns and Chu-Hi!

Mouthful of beer, anyone?

After the second attempt and another couples battle, I decided to hang up my skis for the weekend, and hit the onsen, or Japanese bathhouse. We had a party after dinner, which was fun and relaxing.

Greeting us at the party - fighter pilot mascot wars. Yes, the panther is icing the samurai.

The following morning, we packed up, headed home, and I began the mountain of laundry waiting for us. All in all the trip was worth it, and for the most part, even though I was terrified, I had a lot of fun. Next time, we're bringing our own pillows!

Birthday Celebrations

This past weekend marked my 27th birthday, and consequently, my golden birthday. Typically, we don't really do much for birthdays, but this year I decided it would be a great idea to try something new...

Skiing.

Couple of things about me:

1. I'm scared of heights.

2. Mark and I don't do sports together.

So after spending far too many weekends in our little shack, (there is a serious drought on the festivals from November to February) I signed us up for a ski trip with Outdoor Recreation. 

The best part about my job is I read about all the stuff there is to do in Japan 40 hours a week, so I have a pretty good handle on where to go and how to go about doing it. So I knew that if I signed up to ski with Outdoor Rec we wouldn't have to drive and we would save money on the toll roads. 

I chose the trip to Okunakayama, because it was advertised as good for beginners. Yep. That's me alright. An added bonus was that I would get to correct Mark every time he tried to say the name. OH-COO-NAH-KEY-YAH-MAH. Easy as pie. 

Okunakayama is about an hour and a half south of Misawa. We left at 7 a.m. sharp on Saturday morning with a bus full of sleeping people. Forever ruined by morning radio, I was wide awake and working myself up into a tizzy. Our guide popped in a ski & snowboarding fanatic DVD and we were on our way.

Once we got there, the guide tells us the mountain got a bunch of snow overnight, apparently making conditions better. He suggests that I practice on the little sledding hill at the bottom of the mountain. 

Okunakayama. The sledding hill is over to the right.

I strapped in to my skis and made my first out of control, uncoordinated attempt down the sledding hill. Mark praised me and asked if I was ready for the chair lift.

"Are you out of your mind?! I went down ONCE. Let me practice."

Mark left and went up the lift, leaving me with a few uncoordinated snowboarders. I continued walking up the sledding hill, trying to master locking my boot into the ski. I spent a good 20 minutes trying to line myself up and go down the hill. Every time I tried to turn, I end up going backwards. Finally, a nice snowboarder pulled me forward, and I had a good run, if you can even call it that.

I'm ready for the lift. I can do this. This is fun. I'm outside, it's beautiful out here.

Since he had already made a few runs down the mountain, Mark was sore and hungry, so we went inside and grabbed some ramen from the kitchen. Then it was time to face the mountain.

Greeting you at the chair lift. Japan is hilarious.

Mark warned me the ski lift was a little scary, and took some getting used to. Understatement. I hyperventilated about halfway up the mountain, screaming that I was going to fall off. As we got close to the top, Mark explained how to get off the chair lift. Knowing how to do something, and physically doing it are two different things. I faceplant it immediately off the chairlift, and a little Japanese woman struggles to help me to my feet.

Then there was another 20 minutes of struggle to get over to the second, less crowded run down the mountain. I start going down, way too fast for my comfort level. I'm screaming bloody murder down about half the mountain, until I can't take it anymore and force myself to fall down. Mark skis up behind me, telling me I was doing great. Lie. Another 10 minutes of struggle as I try to get back up. This cycle repeats at least twice until I reach the bottom. I tell Mark I have to go to the bathroom, so he goes again while I wait.

We get on the chair lift a second time, without hyperventilating like the first time. Progress. We get to the top, and the workers must have remembered me because they are outside the hut, ready to catch me if needed. This time I make it off the lift, ski down the little hill and THEN fall. Yep. I'm a winner. 

Another 20 minutes of struggle to get over to the second, less crowded run. I'm all lined up and ready to go when I make the mistake of looking at the lodge at the bottom.

"OH MY GOD. MARK! IT'S SO FAR AWAY. I CAN'T. I CAN'T GO. I'M SCARED."

As patiently as he can muster, Mark waits a bit until I can calm down. I break into hysterics and begin crying. Embarrassing doesn't even begin to describe it. Small children are effortless gliding down the mountain on either side of me. Mark reminds me I have to get down. Okay. I sideways pizza at a snail's pace, while Mark grows increasingly more impatient. I tried turning and picked up some "major" speed. I bail again. After force falling about six or seven times, Mark is completely fed up and says he'll hold on to me to slow me down. Yeah, that's real safe, trust me.

We finally make it to the bottom at which point I decide to call it a day. I'm emotionally exhausted. I post up in the lodge and work on something that I'm great at...drinking a beer.

The best part of the trip.

 
We get back to Misawa at about 6 p.m., and starving, we decide to hit up Kappa Sushi. Kappa is a sushi-go-round and all the plates are about ¥100, a little more than a $1.

Hamburg sushi! It's a Royale with Cheese!

On my actual birthday, we checked out Les Miserables and finished the night at CoCo's Curry. My office gave me a unique cake of Rockstar and beef jerky. They know me well. :)

Apparently the dog is asking if you would like something to drink.

Overall it was a pretty eventful weekend. Cheers to 27 - harder, better, faster, stronger!

I Don't Bake Part Deux

I am not a good cook, but I try my damnedest. As I stated before, I seriously started trying to cook last year while the resident chef of the family was gone. Pinterest has really helped me a lot with trying new things and figuring out what works and what doesn't.

In an effort to control my diet and cutting out processed food, I began searching for ways to make dietary staples, which for this house includes bread.

I stumbled upon this little beauty one afternoon:

The murderous crusty bread. 

The pin said, "I hear this is insanely easy - it literally took 2 minutes to stir together the dough - let it sit overnight and then bake. It is beyond easy and so delicious. Nice and crusty on the outside and chewy on the inside. I cannot say enough. I think I'm going to have to start making this on the daily."

 Easy? Quick? Sold.

So I stirred up the ingredients and waited the FULL 14 hours it needed to proof. Again, patience is not a virtue, as evidenced in my prior post "I Don't Bake."

The original recipe creator bakes this "simple" bread in her Le Creuset. Being the excellent cook that I am, I'm not about to drop over a grand on a baking dish. I was encouraged by the FAQ section that stated anything tolerant of high heat, like the inset of a Crock-Pot will work. Score! I got married once...I have one of those!

So while I waited for my oven to preheat to 450 degrees, I prepped my dough.

Doesn't exactly look like the picture...but that's okay!

I shoved my inset into the stove, and walked away. I sat on my couch watching some Daria, thinking, "Man, I can't believe I've never done this before...it's so easy!" And that's when my Crock-Pot silently died, unbeknownst to me.

I skipped my happy little ass back into the kitchen, opened the stove, and stared in horror at the scene before me.

Crock-Pot
2009 - 2012
We hardly knew ye... 

As with any life or death situation, I panicked. "Oh no!" I shouted. My dear, loving husband came rushing into the kitchen, prepared to save me from whatever peril one may encounter in the kitchen.

He took one look at me, then the carnage, and promptly lost it. It's entirely possible he choked on his own laughter. This is quickly overcome by planning how we can fix the situation...or so I thought. A minute later, he's clutching his phone, ready to share the catastrophe with anyone possessing a Facebook account.

I leave the kitchen, dejected. I wish I could say this was the first time I exposed something to heat that shouldn't have been, but it's not. However, that's a tale for a different day...possibly tomorrow when my ego can take it.

I walk back into the kitchen to salvage the bread, because I didn't wait 14 hours to walk away empty handed, damnit, only to find my dear, loving husband put the icing on the cake:

Mark's tricks of the trade.

And also this, for those who have heard the story:

As for the bread, here is the final product:

For what's left of my pride, I'm going to pretend it looks like the picture.

And as far as taste, it's pretty good, as confirmed by Mark, but then again, he lies to spare my feelings. Sometimes...

How to Almost End Your Marriage

I thought today would be a great day for a recipe on the blog! Here's the recipe, along with step by step instructions (aka pictures for the non-readers) on how to almost end your marriage.

First, the ingredients:

• 1 eight passenger rental van
• 1 set of sketchy directions
• 1 iPhone equipped with Japanese maps
• 1 normally happy couple
• 1 innocent third party participant
• 1 wicked language barrier

Directions:

1.  Rent an eight passenger van to save money on tolls. Make sure van's mileage is at least 6 digits and may or may not have an alignment issue.

2.  Obtain turn by turn directions for your destination approximately 4 hours from your home, listing street names when street signs are not posted.

3.  Pick up your third party participant half an hour later than promised but still way too early for a Saturday morning.

4.  Get on the toll highway and attempt to take pictures from said eight passenger van going no less than 100 kph.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

5.  Stop at rest stop, act like tourists, and have every Japanese person unabashedly stare at you.

6.  Get mildly excited when signs for your destination appear.

7.  Come upon a three road split once you get into Sendai, pick the wrong one, and begin on your journey back the way you came.

8.  Try to correct the problem by asking a Japanese person to make a U-turn on the highway. 

9.  Patiently wait while Japanese person gets additional Japanese person to understand your English-only speaking self.

10.  Become increasingly aware of traffic pile up behind your vehicle as third Japanese person is fetched to understand the words coming out of your mouth.

11.  Bury your face in your hands as the entire line of cars behind you is instructed to reverse so you may make a U-turn on the toll highway.

12. Get back on the road and ready to conquer the three way intersection of mass confusion.

13. Watch as spouse chooses wrong road for the second time, sending you back the way you came.

14. Begin cursing at one another as innocent third party observes in horror from the back seat.

15. Repeat steps 8 through 12.

16. Apologize to spouse after third party intervenes and says both of you are wrong and being lost is both of your fault.

17. Focus post fight anger on taking pictures of cute Japanese animal crossing signs.

17. Finally make it to your destination, the beautiful city of Sendai, for some outlet mall shopping.

18. Take pictures of awesome kerning errors.

19. End day at beer factory, still married and doing the Asian picture pose.