There are three words whose perfection and beauty are unsurpassed in the English language:

NO ASSEMBLY REQUIRED.

(What? Did you think I was going to be a sentimental fool and profess something sappy like “I love you?”)

I have been mechanically-challenged my entire life. I will admit it is part laziness, part impatience, part knowing there is a man somewhere to help me and part incompetence. The most part.

I destroyed our refrigerator’s ice machine last winter. If you missed that doozy of a confession, just know it involved black nail polish and a grinder. And an inordinate amount of dark, goopy ugliness.

I am an ice addict and a day without cubes is like a day without a hit for a junkie. So, I immediately tackled the ice machine with soap, water and even nail polish remover. But most of the unit was unsalvageable. My husband Jamie reluctantly ordered a $50 hunk of plastic to replace it and I waited with great anticipation for the part to arrive. Frustrated, he banned me from buying ice cube trays or bags of ice–assuredly a new form of spousal abuse.

I was thrilled when I finally received the part until I noticed the two most dreaded words in the English language: Assembly Required.

I knew I couldn’t do it so I admittedly barely even tried, which resulted in my normally accommodating husband’s refusal to fix it. And so it sat and sat and sat.

To hold me over, I would call my dealer Lisa.

“Lisa, I’m running low.”
“I’ll empty mine out and be right over.”

She once even bought me a 20-pound bag of ice. I think some would call her an enabler.

With the prospect of summer’s soaring temperatures, this ice junkie finally cracked. I knew I couldn’t survive the next few months without it and so when mechanically-gifted Lisa took pity on me by offering to fix the ice machine, I took her up on it.

She spent hours obsessing and piecing it all together. Hours where she could have been working on taxes, cleaning her house or ensuring her five children did not kill each other on summer break.

That night as I lay in bed, I heard it: the rumblings of the ice machine finally working. I rushed downstairs, threw myself in the freezer and praised my friendship with Lisa in song. My selection?

(More) Ice, Ice, Baby. Of course.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

During my two-week break from Front Range Adventure Boot Camp, some have asked if I hit a plateau because I did not lose weight for the first time since I began.

Well, if a plateau involves cookies, BBQs and treats at my daughter’s birthday party then the answer is a resounding “Yes!”

It is not like I intended to fall off the wagon. But like a relapsing alcoholic, sometimes you just don’t want to resist the taste of that sweet, sweet nectar. Don’t get me wrong. Most of the time, my intentions were noteworthy. I convinced my daughter we should opt out of the traditional birthday cake and have a sand cake that is served out of a bucket for her beach party. She loved it!

And unfortunately, so did I. I tried to be good, really I did. The only ingredients were vanilla pudding, cream cheese and Nilla cookies so I went fat-free/reduced fat on them all. Commendable, right?

Sure, except it tasted like crap so I dumped a ton of powdered sugar in to make it edible.

Guess what: when you add a year’s allotment of powdered sugar it is no longer low-fat.

And then there was the taste test. Next month, I will be reviewing and offering a giveaway for Zebra Mix, fun step-by-step baking kits for children. On Monday, we received kits to make organic chocolate chip cookies, cupcakes and brownies and my daughter was ecstatic to try them out. And evidently so was I because cookie dough is my vice in life.

To repent from my indulgence, I decided to skip dinner. My husband Jamie asked me,

“Aren’t you eating dinner?”

“Naw, I had some stuff earlier and am not hungry.”

“You ate some of Hadley’s cookies, didn’t you?”

“Curse you for knowing me so well.”

And so this [food] junkie is back on the wagon. What tips do you have for getting motivated once you have strayed?

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Excuse me while my ulcer digs a little bit deeper. I am a couple of weeks away from leading 12 teen-age girls on a three-day backpacking trip. Jamie and I are in charge of these back-country novices, along with another wonderful couple. A couple who is currently in Brazil so everything is falling on me.

We have two youth leaders who have been appointed to run the show and the adults are allegedly only there for support. These are beautiful, wonderful and spiritual girls. But they are 17 years old. One picked up and moved away last week without telling us and won’t be back until camp. The other busted her foot and somehow thinks she can still do the trek in a cast.

Plus, they are teen-age girls who are busy with their own stuff. You know: like boys, cell phones, blue eye shadow and curling their hair.

Do not say I am not in touch with today’s youth.

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On another note, after my Sordid Secrets and the Husbands Who Keep Them confessional about Jamie’s addiction to growing the Great Pumpkin, I had several inquiries if my own addiction to Eating Everything Pumpkin is related.

In a word, no.

Jamie has only been through one growing season with his pumpkin. My Eating Everything Pumpkin’s gluttial growing season has been occurring for four years now.

How it all began: I was pregnant with Hadley when I called my family during their Thanksgiving dinner. For those not in the know, Canadians celebrate in October. I don’t know the reason. We just like to do everything first, which is why we celebrate Canada Day three days before your lil’ party.

I think some call it Independence Day.

Anyway, my mom mentioned they were eating pumpkin pie and it was at that moment something was triggered in that hormonal, craving-crazed brain of mine and I HAD to Eat Everything Pumpkin.

Problem is four years later, it has never stopped. I have made pumpkin pie, cake, cookies, bars, bread, enchiladas, gnocchi, shakes, yogurt, fritters and soup.

To name a few.

On another note, Hunky Hubby and I had another one of our tantalizing conversations yesterday about [what else?] pumpkins.

“Jamie, you really need to spice up your pumpkin blog. It is B-O-R-I-N-G.”

“What’re you talking about? Just the other day, I talked about adding FERTILIZER!!!”

Help. I need help.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog