The Heat is On

Well, well, well...look at what I made!

That right there, folks, is a Lemon Yogurt Cheesecake Cup with Raspberries. ZOMG! I baked! These are super good and light and lemony and fruity and creamy and - BONUS - low fat/low cal. I had to eat three just to make sure they were as good as I thought. Double Bonus: I didn't burn any of them! I'm growing up, you guys!

So there I am, slaving away over a hot oven, and it occurs to me that for the first time this season, I'm making something fruity and fun, while sweating in my own house. IT HAS BEGUN. The "sweating while doing ordinary things" phase of Minnesota weather is just about to kick in. It's not even hot yet, but the sun today cooked my house from the inside out. (Oh, also? We forgot to turn off the heat once it got above 60 degrees so our radiators were still pumping out their hot flashes. Whoops! It's off now, FYI.) But still, my house, being so old, basically refuses to be a normal temperature. In the winter, it's freezing, in the summer, hotter than Hades. So as I'm trying to cook something all light and fresh, I myself have turned into a human Dutch oven. There is something a TEENY bit unappetizing about trying not to drip sweat into a delectable dessert. "Why did you add so much salt to this sugary dessert, Pharon?" I assure you it was unintentional.

But there I was, frustrated and sweaty and yelling at the stupid mixer to "COME ON! Mix faster! Why is this not creamy yet?! How, in God's name, can you not be CREAMY YET?! How hard can it possibly be to just MIX? I can hardly breathe it's so hot in here! HURRY UP!!!" Not exactly my proudest moment, I admit.

Cooking for me is stressful enough. It's even MORE stressful when I'm putting off the part where I have to stick my face into the oven to receive a 350-degree punch in the face, so I end up burning whatever is unlucky enough to be in there. At least in the winter I'm not afraid to boil water or leave a crock pot on.

Cooking. Why do you elude me so? Why must it be so difficult for us to be friends? Why do we hate each other's company so much? I try and you try and no matter how well it's all going, something in the fates is destined to ruin whatever we've got cooking. Be it a scorching hot room, a faulty microwave, the absence of eggs in the refrigerator even though I JUST BOUGHT SOME LAST WEEK...whatever. Cooking and I are Romeo and Juliet. Star-crossed lovers, blindly trying to force an impossible relationship despite the objection of every element. And, sadly, my biggest fear is that I will poison someone, just like Juliet did. To herself. That was just a bonehead move on her part...mine, at least, will be accidental.

The final product, tasty as it may be, is just sitting on the cooling racks. Mocking me. A constant, delicious reminder that, despite the outcome, this was a hard-fought battle I do not wish to recreate any time soon. It was, most certainly, too hot in the kitchen. I should find the nearest exit and skedaddle on outta there.

Maybe I should just stockpile my freezer and fridge with foods I make in the Fall and early Spring only. Then I'm not battling my fear of mice in the winter, or roasting myself on a spit in the summer. Or hey! Maybe we should just turn our heat off.

P.S. As I write this, I'm absently watching the Miami Heat vs. Dallas Mavericks basketball game. If only out of sheer frustration out of this whole night, I'm really hoping the stupid Heat loses big time. Also, I'm hoping they lose because, uh, I hate them. Stupid Heat...

ME ME MEmorial Day

There is absolutely nothing better than a three-day weekend. Besides, of course, a four-day, five-day, six-, or even seven-day weekend. Seven-day weekends would be tops in my book. But, as it is, a three-day weekend was positively loverly. How do we, as Americans, not have more three-day weekends? Seriously, I'm like energized and PSYCHED to tackle the work week now. Too many BBQs, late mornings, and margaritas makes me a very dull girl.

Not.

I'm not dull. I was busy every single day. But, like, the kind of "busy" that's not stressful or maddening. Geo and I spent most of the weekend visiting our friends Chad and Angie in Rochester, MN. We played golf and Settlers, had a bonfire, hit up some restaurants, did a little shopping, it was great.

Update! So yeah, I went golfing with Geo, Mitch, and Chad on Saturday. Three guys, one girl. On our car ride to Rochester (in between awesome Britney Spears songs - my choice, not Geo's), Geo warned me "Listen, I want you to have fun golfing, but just keep in mind that there are going to be people playing behind us. I'm a titch worried you'll be too slow."

Rude.

Halfway through our golf game (a total of 9 holes), Geo looked at me after a particularly wonderful drive on my part, and, bewildered, said "Your shot is so, uh, pure. You can definitely golf with me anytime." I was elated. I probably have to hand it to my super adorable new golf shoes, but my super gooey-smooth-lovely swing didn't hurt anything either. Oh, wait, did I mention I shot a 77? That's like what TIGER shoots, you guys! (Okay, he shoots that on a bad day, on a super crazy hard course, on 18 holes...I played 9 on a public course while drinking Coors Light, but whatever). Also, I got a sweet little farmer's tan on my arms, and chest which is like SOOOOO in right now. Right?

Anyhoozle, I'm pooped. I'm tired and a little sunburned and a lot sad the weekend is just about over. I tried to keep it going as long as possible by having a little BBQ with my friends Claire and Marissa, and we all wore sundresses, and it was like 80 degrees, and there was fruit salad, and it was great. But then it was all work work work. I had to fetch my work-wear laundry from our scary basement, prepare some lunches for the week, and snag a little catnap while brainstorming blog ideas. Needless to say, I came up short on the blog part, but whatever. We can't all be awesome all the time. I used up the majority of my awesomeness on the golf course and later at drinking games (What up, Bag Game!?). Obvs, I dominated at those, so something's gotta give.

I guess I'll just end by saying thanks to Chad and Angie for their great hospitality, thanks to Coors Light for unofficially sponsoring my holiday weekend, and serious big ups to the real reason we lucky jerks get to enjoy a long weekend: the men and women in the military who have made the ultimate sacrifice and given their lives for all of us. Thank you!

Par for the Course

This weekend, Geo and I are going to visit our crazy-fun friends Chad and Angie in Rochester. There’s talk of golf, hence the immediacy of the following situation.

I reallllly want a pair of golf shoes. I feel like if I get cute shoes, I’ll be more inclined to go out and play golf. ”But Pharon,” you argue, ”you don’t PLAY golf! You don’t need SHOES made solely for golf!” And there’s where you’d be wrong, friends. I CAN play golf. I took LESSONS at Hazeltine National Golf Club for one summer when I was 16 years old. And in the world of golf lessons, that’s totally boss. Oh, and plus? I WON THE “BIG FOUR” TOURNAMENT AND HAVE MY NAME ON A TROPHY SOMEWHERE IN THE BOWELS OF HAZELTINE. (P.S. The Big Four was my class name. We played four holes of golf in the time it took the other groups to play nine. We were not good. And all the other girls were 12, and one of them hit the ball and it accidentally went BEHIND her, but whatever. I WON, AND MY NAME IS ON A TROPHY.)

Okay, so I haven’t played for, oh, a decade probably. I have come to the conclusion that it is simply because I don’t have the proper footwear. So, I randomly became OBSESSED with finding golf shoes cute enough to be seen on MY feet. Then I found these:

DROOL.

I love these shoes. I want them more than I want the black patent leather wedges Kate Middleton wore after her wedding. I want them more than I want the Charm heels in Platinum Glitter from Kate Spade. (Okay, not really…that would be just plain crazy talk.) But I waaaaant these golf shoes. I am 100% certain I would not only PLAY golf if I had them, but I would DOMINATE in them.

Oh, wait. What’s that? They’re $130? SHPLORG! Even I can't justify this purchase, and I talked myself into wearing bodysuits at one point in my life. But ugh…I sat there, staring at these awesome shoes in my virtual shopping cart, one click away from buying the key to my golf success, and that number just refused to go down. I kept thinking "Get serious, Crazy. YOU DON’T PLAY GOLF. You chose your golf glove based solely on the fact that it had a bedazzled ball marker. You don’t know the difference between a Sand Wedge and a Pitching Wedge. You only go golfing if there is a cart and beer involved. You do NOT DESERVE THESE SHOES, POSER." Man, I can such a beyotch…

Geo was scolding me too, being like "Pharon, no. Just. No." And I was all "But I’ll play SOOO much more golf with you if I get them!" and he’s all "It’s irresponsible." And I was all "Dude, YOU want to buy a motorcycle. Lay off."

But I didn't buy them. I agreed to do some real-life shopping at a real-life golf store with Geo tonight in the hopes of finding some shoes that aren't fugly and don't cost an arm and a leg. I ended up with these:

Okay, so maaaybe these aren't the IDEAL shoes, but they are definitely cute. And those colored little strip dealies are inserts to change the color of the Nike swoosh. Just like my old cheerleading shoes! I can color coordinate with aaaaaaaaaaaanything. (As Geo said, "They are just gimmicky enough for you!" and he is 100% correct.) The best part? They were a crazy good deal. Mix a 25% off Golfsmith sale with the fact that they are children's shoes and I got 'em for like $35. God bless my child-sized feet!

If I end up golfing this weekend, I'm probably going to totally OWN the course (I hope). What are you guys up to for the long weekend? Big plans? Fun plans? No plans? A man, a plan, a canal: Panama? (Palindromes are Semordnilap!) I hope you guys all have a safe, fun, awesome long weekend! I'll see you all on the other end of it...

Dear Crabby

What's up, squares? Here are fabulous answers to your fabulous questions!

Dear Crabby,

I’m trying to get out of a date this weekend, because, well, I found something better to do than go for an uncomfortable dinner with someone I really don’t like that much. I feel KIND of bad, but not so bad that I won’t ditch him. Got any creative suggestions for last-minute excuses?

Thanks!
Excuuuuuuse Me

Well hello, Excuuuuuse Me,

I hate making up excuses! Usually, I don’t bother and say “I changed my mind. I really don’t feel like doing anything tonight.” Sure it’s kind of blunt, but the alternative takes SOOO much energy. Coming up with a lie, making sure you don’t FB or tweet about what you did INSTEAD, remembering not to bring up the thing you ended up doing in a later conversation with that person, making sure you don’t bump IN to that person…ugh! It’s too much work, as far as I’m concerned. So, my honest advice is to go straight up truthiness. Tell him something came up (it’s true: Something better came up) and you need a raincheck. Put in a smiley face emoticon so he can’t get mad. Then you’re home free! Not the “honest” type? Fine. Here’s a brief list of good excuses: Your car broke down, you’re house sitting in a different city, you accidentally donated all your left shoes to Goodwill and have to wait until your Zappos.com order arrives, you’re fasting and the mere thought of food will make you crazy, your face tattoo is infected and leaky so legally you can’t be in restaurants . I think that should cover it. Good luck, you big liar! Let me know what you do, and if you end up using one of these stellar excuses!

Dear Crabby,

I really think my friend is insane. She's like bipolar now and jumping around from guy to guy and crying all the time. It's annoying. She'll be all fine and then all of a sudden, she's lashing out at everyone around her claiming we don't "understand". She can't tell us what is wrong, and I don't know what to do. You got any crazy-friend advice?

Love the blog, love the advice column, love it all, love love love,
Bipolar Bear

Hey Bipolar Bear,

Glurb...crazy friends can be the worst! (Side note: They can also be the BEST. Just TRY and not have fun with a crazy person. It can't be done.) Sounds to me like your friend has a classic case of "I Don't Know What I'm Doing in Life So I'm Going to Pretend Like I Have it All and Get Angry At Anyone Who Tries to Tell Me Otherwise" syndrome. If you're good enough friends, I suggest a swift kick in her shin. Then, while she's down, calmly explain to her that she is insane and that she needs to pull herself together. If you're not at the "kick her while she's down" phase in your friendship, I say "ABANDON SHIP". Cut her out for awhile. Stop dealing with her psycho-babble and tell her you'll be friends again when she's normal. Until then? Tell her to lose your number. No one needs that kind of toxic behavior around them. You can't do anything right, according to her, so maybe just bail out for awhile. At the very least, it'll save YOUR sanity. Oooh, or you could slip a card to psychiatrist under her door and say they're from "An anonymous, concerned citizen". Hopefully she'll get the very obvious hint.

Dear Crabby,

Gack! I got gum in my hair! It's right at the root and I really don't want to cut it out! What should I do!?

SEND HELP!
-Gummy Hair

First off, Gummy Hair? Best. Name. Ever. Loves it. I'm answering this only because of your clever handle. Well played! Okay: getting gum out of your hair. Step One: Figure out how a grown adult got GUM in your HAIR and then decide to never to that again. Step Two: Have a few glasses of wine - you'll need it, trust me. Step Three: Somehow run freezing cold water or ice over the affected area. Step Four: Chip out the gum. If the gum doesn't chip off, you'll need to quick pound another glass of wine and continue on to Step Five...

Step Five: Dramatically step in front of your bathroom mirror. Step Six: Start crying. Step Seven: Pull out comically large, stainless steel scissors. Step Eight: Snip your hair right at its roots. Step Nine: Continue sobbing uncontrollably. Step Ten: Alternate between laughing and crying. Step Eleven: Start maniacally cutting the rest of your hair at it's roots and smearing lipstick all over your face. Step Twelve: Remember to never get gum stuck in your hair ever again, weirdo...

KISSES! Hope I helped some you lovable weirdos! I loved these oddball questions this week, btw, so have NO FEAR when submitting YOUR crazy questions to pharonsquare@gmail.com. The zanier the better! Say word...

You Can Doooo It!

Up(percut)date! I was flirting with the idea of skipping kickboxing tonight. I know, I know...that'd make 2 weeks in a row. Whatevs. So, I'm sitting in the parking lot, spying on the gym, and I called Geo. Earlier in the day, he had made me lavish promises of making me a grilled dinner tonight. I called him to tell him I was probs going to ditch out on class and to fire up the grill, and he says, "Oh. Uh, I already ate. Sorry!" So, I went to kickboxing and punched the crizzap out of the bags because I was annoyed. Turns out? It paid off.

Scary Tony came up to me as I was packing up to leave and says "Listen, I think you should come to zhe Monday night class." I was all "Am I that bad??" And he's all "No, zhere's a girl your size with great technique like you and you both need a challenge. I want you to spar."

Oh. My. Gah. Sparring is kiiiiind of a big deal. It may involve a helmet and possibly a mouth guard, I don't know. But I am terrified STOKED. Never mind that Monday night will be the end of a long weekend, but the closest I've ever come to sparring is threatening to punch Geo for cancelling a grilled dinner.

So, whatever, that kind of rules. I'm pretty proud of myself. I haven't gotten this kind of pat-on-the-back since like high school sports. Having a coach who is all pushy and yell-y and crazy until you succeed is probably something I could use in my every day life. I like it when someone pushes me like that. I'm a little, uh, lackadaisical when it comes to pushing MYSELF. I go as far as I think I can go, and then I call it a day and eat a bagel. But there's something about a coach that just, like, drives me.

I had some of the greatest coaches. I've had really terrible coaches, too. But no matter who they were, I was desperate to impress them. I showed up to my Under-12 soccer practice and proudly displayed what I thought was my sick 6-pack (turns out, they were just my ribs) to my coach. She high-fived me and I was elated. All that "work" I had done (20 sit-ups before practice) was toooootally worth it when I got that high five.

In high school, it was way harder to impress coaches. They were all super busy and there were all these all-star kids who were getting scholarships to college and whatnot. Not me. I wasn't the type who was getting an athletic scholarship (too small, too not-into-getting-athletic-scholarships), so I kind of fell by the wayside. Luckily, I had a cheerleading coach who didn't discriminate. He yelled at everyone so I did pretty well there.

But after the recognition from Scary Tony tonight, I'm kind of into the idea of hiring more coaches to run my life. Like a Cleaning Coach. You know, "Hey you wuss! Get off your butt and put those clothes in the dryer! Come on, 10 more windows to wash! You can do it!" Or maybe a Makeup Coach. "I KNOW you can put that blush on better than that! What do you think you're doing? Give me at LEAST 1 more set of putting on that mascara! You're putting that lip gloss on like a GUY! Come on!"

I feel like I could really benefit from someone (not related to me, or someone I hang out with on a regular basis, so don't get any ideas, jerks) keeping me on my toes when it comes to the most basic of human skills. Is this something that exists? Meh, whatever. I'm just going to go sleep and hope someone else does it.

#WINNING!!

I'm going to cut to the chase. My sister Prinna and my brother Perek WON THE DAIRY QUEEN COMMERCIAL CONTEST!!! They actually won a real CAR! A Mini Cooper to be exact. Incredible, right?! So, Geo and I met the two of them out to celebrate. We decided to meet up at Dave and Buster's, where I had never been before. It was fun, sure, but I'd rather have been cruising around in a new Mini Cooper. But I digress. At any rate, the winning just continued from there.

Thanks primarily to Geo's superior arcade game skills in tossing a football through some targets, we all walked away winners.

Prinna walked away with a shot glass...

And a coffee mug...

Perek won this "totally awesome" tie-dyed Vikings football...

Geo got his hands on this totally grown up toy which he claims he's going make into a golf club cover (but I know he will probably just cuddle up to it during thunderstorms)...

And, arguably, I got the best prize. Check out this sick anagram bracelet.

Awww yeah! It means "One For All, All For One". Some genius in the Dave and Buster's back room came up with that, and now it's my new jewelry staple. It's like a "Live Strong" bracelet for those of us who do NOT have testicular cancer. SCORE!

Okay, that's all. My brother and sister won a car, and I won a $0.50 bracelet (that I didn't technically WIN. It cost me roughly $15. Tomato, potato). Let's call it a wash...

Congratulations to Prinna and Perek, and thank you SO MUCH to everyone who voted for their commercial!!

Fun for the Whole Family!

Well, lookie what we've got here. Looks like you, like me, didn't quite fit the bill to be chosen for the Rapture on Saturday. Sinners. Did you go to a Rapture party? Give away all your possessions? If so, I bet you're feeling preeeetty stupid about now. Oh well, there's always 2012 according to the Mayans. Better luck next time.

Regardless of the possibility of Judgment Day, I had a splendid weekend. The theme was "having inordinate amounts of fun with my family." On Friday night, as Geo and I were driving to my 5 year-old niece's preschool choir recital (OMG, SOOOO cute! Annabelle goes to a Spanish preschool, so all the songs were in Spanish!), he casually mentioned that he thinks I'm "obsessed" with my family. Rude, right?! But okay, so yes, we drove to Eden Prairie for what turned out to be a 10 minute concert, but so what? Annabelle was all smiles and cuteness when she saw an entire ROW of her biggest fans.

Then Geo and I joined my mom, dad, aunt Sarah, and her husband Bill for a super delicious meal at Hazeltine before going to my parents house for a good ol' fashioned night of gambling and taking each others money. We drank wine, listened to music, and basically had an awesome time. On our way home, Geo was all "You seriously like to spend a lot of time with your family." I was all "Yeah?! So what?! That was super fun!" He's all (again) "I know, I know, I'm just saying you are obsessed with them. We don't spend that much time with MY family."

First problem with that argument? WE LIVE WITH HIS SISTER. What, she doesn't count as family? Also? Even when Geo comes to family events with me, my brother Perek is always there. Perek and Geo are besties, so I hardly think it's much of a stretch to hang with my fam when he is essentially just spending time playing with his friend. Oh yeah, and his family lives in South Dakota. Sorry that my family lives so close and they also happen to be AWESOME. Sue me!

So Saturday, after many hours of recovering from the wine the night before, I got all dolled up to meet my parents, Sarah and Bill, and Prinna and her husband out at Famous Dave's to see this awesomely awesome band CBO (if you EVER get a chance to catch one of their shows, GO. I assure you you will not be disappointed). I was getting ready and I asked Geo "Are you SURE you just wanna stay in by yourself tonight?" He didn't even take his eyes off his video game. "I'm playing HALO with [his brother] Jami tonight. I'm spending time with my family." Yikes.

Turns out, he missed an incredibly fun night. I started with a margarita, followed that up with a basket of spicy wings, and for dessert I had like 4 tall beers. Always such a lady... When the band started playing, we hopped up and headed to the makeshift dance floor. I was wearing my new platforms stilettos and managed to only trip about 3 times. Winning! At one point, the trumpet player in the band came and sat with us during a break. That's right, people. I know a guy in the band. I think that gets me like 6 degrees of separation from Prince or something. The guy was actually my middle school band director. He was EVERYone's favorite teacher, and sitting next to him while drinking a beer just felt right.

When Geo picked me up, it was clear I had had a sufficiently fun night. I kicked my shoes off in the car and stuck my head out the window to cool off while babbling about how underrated Famous Dave's is and how funny my parents are. I wanted Geo to KNOW he missed a good time.

Although, I got home and saw Halo on the TV, Geo's nerdy Xbox headset still buzzing with nerdy gamer conversations with his brother, and a half-eaten tube of cookie dough and knew that his version of a great night differed greatly from my own.

In order to try and recoup SOME quality time together, Geo decided to embrace being "left behind" in the Rapture by taking me to lunch at Hell's Kitchen today, which was incredibly good. And after only a minimal amount of persuasion on my part, he agreed to go to see Bridesmaids with me. People? Run, do not walk, to that movie. It's finally a hysterical movie showcasing female talent. And we BOTH loved it. See? I can have fun without my family! Sheesh... (Although I have a feeling my FAMILY would have appreciated my very long story about how I organize my purse way more than Geo did...)