Archive for September, 2014

Weekend eatings

Hey sorry guys!! School has been keeping me pretty busy so I haven’t been able to sit down and write for awhile. I always want too, but by the time I get back to my room, exercise, take a shower, eat, finish homework–it’s 10:00 and it’s my bedtime. But I’ll try better 😉

This week has been pretty good to me. I’ve gotten down closer to my goal for this month (only 2 days left so I better do something…fast), and that 160 is right there I can taste it!! But like always things come up, but that’s okay–sometimes you need a “splurge” day, or a day out with a good friend, or making random meals because your roommate has a friend over it’s all cool! So last night I made two dishes that I (we) ate on today. I made an easy farmer’s casserole and for the first time I actually (and I think successfully) made cauliflower pizza crust.

The farmer’s cassarole was pretty easy to make and I made it all last night, popped it into the fridge overnight, popped it into the oven this morning–and I must say…my roommates loved it. This particular casserole made 12 servings, and it was delicious, it really does, but I but say that I think I like my the one my mom makes better. So I’ll have to put that recipe down here for you guys to try after this one. 😉


The cauliflower pizza crust was a bit more challenging due to the fact that I couldn’t find cheesecloth ANYWHERE!! So I resorted to using a tea towel which made for a bit more muscle work and burning of my hands before I got all that water out. But I baked it, put it in the fridge, added the condiments before lunch, baked for about 15 minutes to melt the cheese–and I was surprised at how much I actually liked it. (As you can tell from the 3 pieces I devoured.)


Now the thing about these two dishes is that the casserole (at least the way I made it) is about 101 calories for a serving, and the pizza (divided by eight) was 102 calories per slice. O_O SAY WHAT?!?!?!?! Yes, yes…this is what I love about experimenting with food (but don’t get me wrong…real pizza, I mean dough, will always hold my heart), but this wasn’t bad. I actually liked the pizza enough to think I’m going to make it for my family when I go home sometimes over Thanksgiving or Christmas break. I think my dad would really like it! Course….the only thing I would suggest is trying to make the crust thicker. I made (about) a 12 inch pizza crust so it was really thin, and I’m not a thin crust type of gal. Along those lines, it fell a part a bit when you went to pick it up. (I’m actually wondering if that was because I didn’t get out as much water as I thought when I strained the cauliflower.)

So I’m thinking about trying other different pizza toppings on this crust, but cheese being my favorite and this was an experiment, I thought it best to go with that. Not bad for a crazy weekend. Now with fall approaching, be ready for warm recipes–cause they will be coming 😀

I hope you guys like these recipes, and don’t worry–I’ll be back with other stuff this week!

Cauliflower Pizza Crust:

Farmer’s Casserole:


Rural Ramblings: To My Family

It’s a Tuesday, I’m in English class, and we’re learning about commas (yeah…don’t ask, it’s a touchy subject). I’m sitting here writing 1) to keep me from falling asleep and 2) because of a comment that was told to me yesterday.


I’ve never really thought about the subject of my family and how important they are too me. I mean, I’ve always known how important they are too me–I mean, these people are my flesh and blood. We share traits, name, and lineage. But yesterday, after showing off some pictures, someone made the comment to me that she was jealous of the relationship that I have with my family. The relationship I have with my family? Never really thought about it up close and personal like. I mean, I know that I have a great relationship with my family–on both sides. I love each and every one of them, even the cousins or relatives that I really don’t know that well or don’t hang out with besides family gatherings. I guess, it takes it really does take someone else mentioning it to see how blessed I truly am. My family means the world to me and yes, we can be dysfunctional, we don’t always get along, there are arguments, fights, and scats–but at the end of the day we always remember that we’re family.


I wouldn’t change a thing about this group of people that surround me. Singing today in my voice lesson, my teacher mentioned that I am rooted in who I am and I love who I am. That comes from being grounded by a Godly family that raised me the way a kid should be raised. I am truly blessed for everything that I’ve ever had, done, or will do because I know that I have family and friends that are going to stick by me and support me no matter what. A lot of people don’t have that, which makes me even more lucky.

So I just got to ask. Have you stopped and thought about your family lately? Have you called up any of them, just to talk and catch up? Called your grandparents or parents to see how their doing? Gone to some event a family member is in just to support them? As my Grandpa Harden always used to say, “we’re all born dying,” so take some time and remember that you only have one family–and you’re stuck with them. So make the best that you can with them, make memories, spend as much time as possible because we never know when we (or they) will be gone.



Weight Loss Wednesday: Getting over the Scale

Kind of jumping the gun, but hey, who said that ALL fitness had to wait and be written on Friday. As you guys know, I’ve started T25 as my new workout regime. (Yes, so far I am really enjoying it. Only 25 minutes and it’s actually really tough). With this I decided that I needed to change the way that I was eating. No, it’s not that I haven’t been eating bad, actually I would say I have actually changed my eating habits the healthier side of things. It’s just that….you can only eat so many smoothies before you get tired of them. (Even though I doubt I will ever ACTUALLY get sick of eating smoothies.) But seriously…I’ve missed–FOOD.

Course, eating food means that I go back to an old post I made, the one about where I was afraid to eat because of weight gain. Now this might sound ridiculous, it should at least, because it sounds ridiculous to me and I’m the one doing it to myself. But I decided that I needed to get over it, I mean, why be scared of food when that’s what your body needs in order to survive and also keep it healthy. Brings me to the subject–that scale.

I read an article today that really got me thinking. It was called, “Is Your Scale Sabotaging Your Weight Loss”, got me curious because just this morning I stepped on that stupid thing and what did it tell me? I gained a pound. What did I do? Became depressed and angry at myself because I was like, “SERIOUSLY?! After that total body workout I gained a pound?!” (Listen to me, I sound like a freak, OMG I GAINED A POUND). This is something that I’ve actually fought with since the beginning. I know, I know, the scale can be your friend, keep you updated, keep you accountable–but what a scale should never be is the thing that controls you. Like it’s come to control me. Now, I’m going to be deadly honest here: I step on the scale maybe 8-10 times a day. I do it before every meal, before I work out, after I work out…you get the idea. I have let that stupid little device become the thing that dictates my life.

That’s what this article hit on, could the scale actually be a saboteur of your weight loss and your self-esteem? I would have to say yes–for the reasons above and here are some others.   The article was great, and I really suggest you read it. It talked about that “magic number” that all of us want to hit. Are any of you like me, you step on that sucker and if you see it the number go down and you feel like you feel the best you’ve ever felt? But if that number doesn’t show up or you see it slowly ccccrrrreeeeeeeeeeeppppp up you feel like the scum of the earth? I get that way. And I’m sick of it. Author Melissa Costello is so right when she talks about how we use that number and scale as a declaration of our self worth. As she said, “They often get a sense of worth, happiness and value from seeing that “magic number.” But if that number doesn’t appear, they feel deflated and may even feel self-hatred and negative self-judgment about their bodies and their lives. The same can be true for men, too, if they’re trying to build muscle or lose fat. …Even if that number does keep going down, we seem to be basing our own worth and value on that number, rather than focusing on what is important: health!”

Read more:

IT’S SO TRUE!!!! I found myself reading this and nodding at everything she said. I feel this way EVERY. DAY. I step on that scale and if the number goes down I’m like, “YES!! I’M DOING IT, I’M GETTING SO CLOSE TO MY GOAL!!!” But if that number stays the same or goes up–I become sad and “depressed” because I felt like I was doing something wrong. (Trust me again, if you don’t believe me just ask my mom. She’s heard it all and I mean ALL). And like she says, I forget to focus on what I’m actually trying to achieve–my health. I don’t see myself and who I’ve become, or the weight that I’ve actually lost–I see that number and I still feel like I’m that “fat girl” in the old pictures.

So I gave myself a goal. For the rest of the week I would weigh myself ONLY IN THE MORNING!! ONLY!!! (This is going to be hard). And then next week I’m only going to weigh myself when I do my weekly measurements. I’m doing this because I’m tried of looking at the scale and seeing that number either staying the same or going up and not going down as fast as I want too. I’m doing this because I’m going to look in the mirror and see the beautiful woman that I am, that I have been, that I’m going to be! And so, I’m done being this person (it’s the truth though right. This is how I feel ALL the time) :

And more this:


It’s time to forget the scale (to a point, I mean–I still have goals to reach before Christmas break 😛 ) but it’s time to enjoy life and the body I have now, the rest will come. I’m doing T25 after all 😉

Monday Musings: Country Home

Last Friday marked the two year anniversary of the death of a classmate and friend, and for some reason I always have to listen to Nickleback’s Photograph and Frankie Ballard’s Helluva Life. One is our “class song” the other….you could say, really nails our lives back home. I also think that Dyllon would have liked it. Thinking about these things, it’s kind of hard to believe that 1) our 5 year class reunion is coming up next year. (Yeah it’s hard to believe that it’s been 5 years since this picture was taken). And 2) we’ve already lost one of our own.


It kind of puts things in perspective when you think about it. How fast time goes by and then how fast it can be gone. It also amazes me what it takes for us to realize just exactly what we have in life. I was talking with one of my best friends over the past couple of days. She goes to school in Wichita and was home visiting her family for the weekend. (Of course, I told her that I was jealous). It struck me dumb-founded though when she told me that she was actually thinking of moving home when school was done. This was one of the kids who swore that they would never come back. Course, it took me coming to Denver to realize how much home really does mean to me. So both of us are in the same boat, we miss home.

So, it was actually my dear friend that got me started back up in what I needed to do. Listening to country music, writing on my novel again, thinking about home, and writing my own music. That’s what I needed–someone to talk to and to inspire me. The problem is, it’s fall–which means harvest season is starting up back home. This is my favorite time of year. Football games on Friday nights, the crisp air starting to settle in, the sound of the bins at night, the changing of the leaves, bonfires, s’mores, friends, family–I miss it all. It’s not here in the city, but I think being here really helped me to realize what I like about home, about being there and being a part of it.

It probably sounds strange with the career choice that I’ve made, but then again who knows what’s going to happen. God has everything planned out for me, but He also knows the desires of my heart. Traveling the world as a performing artist would be AMAZING, and yes, I would miss home terribly. But…if doing that and then settling down with my future husband and raising a family in Doniphan County….my life would be complete. I want to raise my children the way Dad and Mom raised Dave and me. Sounds strange, but I wouldn’t mind marrying a good ol’ boy (actually I would prefer it…which would explain why I’m still single 😛 )

I know of a lot of famous singers who did this. They didn’t have to live in Nashville or Los Angeles in order to fullfill their dreams. (Course they were famous too) But that gives me something to strive for. I mean, this place is who I am. Alabama said it best, “I was born country, and that’s what I’ll always be. Like the rivers and the woodlands wild and free. I’ve got a hundred years of down-home running through my blood. I was born country, and this countries what I love.” I want my kids to experience this life, and not just when we visit “Grandpa and Grandma Scholz” (ok…..that was seriously really weird to type out……) but seriously, I think being raised in that lifestyle creates you into a person that is special. We might be “slow” to the city people, but I love it. It’s made me more open to the outside world around me, because I have a strong base. It’s a place where faith, family, and community still live strong. It’s a place where honesty still thrives. It’s the Heartland, the heartbeat of America–it’s home.

So I will write and sing about it, even if it hurts my soul because I can’t be there. But I think letting myself fall into those feelings will help in the sadness. Remembering, thinking, bringing to life all those aspects that I love so much….it will bring home to me, even under these city lights. So tonight, I think of my classmates, my school, my friends, my family, my small towns, and most importantly….my country home.


Fitness Friday- The Journey Begins

So this week I watched Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss addition which is something I never do. I like hearing about people’s weight loss journey, but it always makes me jealous because of all the weight they lose in a year. (Usually the amount of weight it has taken me 3 years to do). Don’t ask me why, but I watched it and it was an amazing story (however, I won’t go into details ’cause that will make this post HUGE). Then last night I was flipping through the channels trying to find something to watch when I came upon the  Biggest Loser. I’ve never actually been interested in the show either (because I always wish I was on the ranch sometimes) but this year caught my eye because it’s former athletes.

Through my initial shock I realized I recognized many of the people on there. WHAT?!?! They got THAT big?!?!?! OMG!!!! And they said something that caught my attention. These are athletes, the best of the best, NFL players, WNBA players, college athletes, the best of the best–and just like the rest of the America, they loss to their most dangerous opponent: weight gain. I felt something for these guys, because I know where they’re at. These are my people…my brothers and sisters…and we are in the same boat. Course, my journey is on it’s last leg for this year, and I was lucky: I didn’t gain THAT much weight but I did gain.

That brings me to my first post “Beginnings”, where I ended after my first year of college. It had to be about 30 pounds and it was 30 pounds that I never noticed I had gained until BAM there it was.


Now, don’t ask me how it happened because I really have no idea. But I knew I had to do something–especially after my chiropractor got on me. See I already have arthritis in my left knee. (Yeah I know right, a 22 year old that has arthritis) It’s due to genes though, but even though I have the Scholz knee’s the added weight was putting too much pressure on (at the time) 19 year old’s knees. Too much. 220 pounds equals about 700 pounds of pressure. (I think that’s right. For every pound your over weight, that’s 10 pounds of added pressure on your knees. If it’s wrong I’ll correct myself when I get home in November and ask again, but I’m sure that’s what he said). Anywho, I had wwwaaayyy to much pressure on my already strained knees. (I mean I have been wearing two knee braces since I was a sophomore in high school). So something needed to be done, and something needed to be done NOW.

Don’t worry, you did read it right, 220 pounds. That’s where I was sitting at, so I knew that I needed to change something so for the next week I started watching what I ate, I did the Vemma Bode plan, and I started pushing myself harder on our track workouts, doing more cardio afterwards and then taking more time to work on weights. This seemed to do some good and slowly pound for pound I got down to 195.

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I’m down to 195, when I moved to Denver in 2012 after graduating from HCC. I continued working out: running on the treadmill, elliptical, biking, hiking, weight lifting and I noticed I started to get thinner, but the weight was still there and so was the stomach. I still didn’t feel good about myself. I hated looking at myself in the mirror, I refused to go out with friends and roommates because I was embarrassed, seriously, I was utterly and totally embarrassed that I even let myself get this big! I was ashamed of myself for what I had become–I felt like I let the bullies win. I let the jokes, I let the mocks, I let everything everyone had ever said about me come true. I also knew, unfortunately, that if I wanted to make it in this industry–I was going to have seriously do SOMETHING!! I continued through the next year and the weight slowly (painfully) slowly came off. As you can imagine, I was still having problems finding something that was going to help me push ahead and over this “plateau” that I had hit.  I was sitting at home watching Dr. Oz and Shaun T came into my life for the first time. They did a 15 minute exercise–and I knew I had finally found THAT something. It reminded me of conditioning days in high school and even for track. It was tough, it was challenging, and I knew that there was something to this.


I fell in love with the workout and then found out that this was the guy who created the workout that everyone was talking about, Insanity. As I started doing the 15 minute workout all the time, I began to feel better about myself and as the days went on…I really really really wanted to do this Insanity exercise. I had seen so many info-mericals about it. But I didn’t have the money, and also I didn’t want to spend that much money on something that I was going to end up hating. So instead I got Hip-Hop Abs. (And that ladies and gentlemen is a fun workout! I’ll be going back to it once I get to my goal weight!!!) But I still needed something more because I was stuck at 180-185. Luckily, I had a roommate that became friends with some really cool girls. I was talking about how I would like to try Insanity but didn’t have the money, and that’s when I was informed that they had the workout with them. I borrowed it from them until Thanksgiving Break. And so I talked to my mom during break and we decided that it would be okay to get the workout.


Now because of school and because I was really out of shape, I wasn’t able to complete the workout in it’s fullest. So I did it just to keep on exercising, keep pushing me, and it got me down to 177 at the end of school last year. I decided to keep doing it over the summer but really didn’t kick it into high gear until July. I told myself that THIS was the time I would finish Insanity in it’s whole. And I did, and even though I didn’t lose a lot of weight during the summer–the inches came off. I finished Insanity at 164 pounds. And so now you’re caught up with me and my journey! I started T25 this week, and it’s kicking. my. butt. But that’s okay! I’m love it! Because I know that it’s going to help me get to my goal weight of 150 before Christmas break.

So let’s take the next steps together shall we? You and me? I would be happy if you would! I’ll keep you guys updated with little tips and such like that, and don’t be afraid to hit me up if you have questions.

Here’s to beating the odds, the jokes, the humiliation, the embarrassment–and knowing…

That I’m going to look DANG SEXY at that 5 year class reunion of Doniphan West Class of 2010 and to hear the boys say:


Forgive the language 😉

Here’s Fitness Friday for this week! Stay tuned and hope you enjoy the rest of the week’s posts 🙂

4-H is Evil and Bad for Kids

This, she hits everything, why would anyone ever think that about this great organization!?!?!?!??!! Stupid CNN…..

country nights, city lights

Recently, CNN shared this link. The gist of the article is that children who are involved in 4-H are desensitized to the killing of animals, without much other educational value. Apparently, 4-H is a scourge upon the Earth and a source of concern for urbanites who have a conditional dislike for food. (Of course, those who support 4-H would say that it prepares children for the important, and sometimes unpleasant, task of producing food for the other 98% of the population. But hey, what do they know?)

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The Day the Earth Stood Still

I woke up this morning trying to figure out what the heck I could write about on a “throwback Thursday”, considering school has had me quite busy over the last couple of days. And then I realized what today was: September 11th, 2014.

I was sitting in Mrs. Bevis’ 4th grade classroom, just going about our regular schedule. Our councilor didn’t tell us what happened until school was done, (I was told it was because they didn’t want to disturb our work flow) but all us older kids new something was wrong. We noticed that all the teachers were in the teachers lounge whenever they could, they looked shocked throughout the day, they talked in hushed voices, and I caught a few wiping tears from their eyes or they would just start crying in class. Then we found out: two airplanes had been flown into the World Trade Center, another into the Pentagon, and another crashed landed in a Pennsylvania field. President Bush had declared this a terrorist attack by a radical Muslim group. Now, probably like most American 4th graders, I think the same thoughts went through all our minds: World Trade Center? Radical Muslims? Terrorist attack? What’s the World Trade Center? They FLEW the airplanes INTO the buildings? I remember the rumors and “conspiracy theories” that were floating around the bus on the way home. I also remember being very very angry that my daily afternoon cartoons (my daily educational cartoons on PBS mind you) had been cancelled due to all the news coverage of the event.

I also remember that I became fascinated and glued to the TV, watching repeat after repeat after repeat of the 911 calls, the planes flying into the WTC, etc, etc. It wasn’t because I’m a morbid person–it’s just my personality. I felt violated, even as a 9 year old, and so I wanted to find out as much as I could. My mom was very worried letting me watch the coverage, all the replays, but she let me–because she believed that I needed to know. So that night she and Dad sat down with me and my brother David and we had a long discussion about what happened. That was 13 years ago. The day America was knocked to her knees, the day that everything we ever knew was destroyed, the day our security was taken, the day the entire earth stood still.

For us that are old enough to remember, we’ll always be able to remember what it was like before 9/11–something that the next generation will have no idea. We grew up in a time when we didn’t live in fear or high security, something our kids will never know. They’ll never understand the panic that everyone felt, the nationalism that brought us together, or the aftermath–because they live in the aftermath. To them, 9/11 will be the first shot fired at Lexington and Concord, the Battle of Fort Sumter, Pearl Harbor, and JFK’s Assassination–it’s something they’ll just read about in history books. But to us, there will always be 9/11 and we’ll always remember what it was like.

To end this post, I tell a story of something that happened to me when I was in New York. We were at Ground Zero watching the construction that was happening, and it amazed me how quiet it was down there. We were over by the fire department that sits right across from the WTC. I was standing there looking at the numerous plaques that sit on the walls, when I felt something touch my hand. Looking down, I found a little girl standing beside me tugging on my hand. I smiled at her, but that smile soon turned to shock when she pointed to Ground Zero and asked, “is that where Daddy died?”

I didn’t know what to say or what to do. I looked over at where the towers once stood and then back at the little girl. I didn’t know what to say or do, so I looked around for someone connected with her. A short ways a way there stood a woman who clearly had tears rolling down her cheeks. I connected eyes with her and she nodded, and t hit me like a ton of bricks. I looked back down at the girl and asked, “How old are you?”

“I’m eight. Is this where Daddy died?”

I slowly nodded, and got down on one knee. What else could I do. Here stood a little girl, born in 2001, in the aftermath, who would never know her daddy. This I couldn’t imagine because of the relationship that my dad and I have. So I asked, “was your daddy a firefighter?” She nodded.

“Momma said he was the best.” I smiled.

Tears began to form in my eyes. “I bet he was. Yeah, this is where your daddy died. But you know what…your daddy was a hero. The biggest hero that day. He saved so many people, something you should always remember. He was a hero, and that’s something you should be very proud about.” She gave me the biggest hug (which surprised me) and then ran back to her mom, who silently mouthed to me “thank you”.

I smiled and mouthed back, “no…thank you.” Then I let the tears fall and rejoined our tour group.

So when people say things bad about that day or come up with conspiracy theories or discuss that we should have never went to war, I think about that little girl. I don’t like war, I don’t like fighting but I think about her and the thousands of kids that will never know their dad’s, mom’s, aunts, or uncles. Both from the attacks and from defending our country. So I thank them here, thank you for your sacrifice, for putting others safety before your own, for running up the stairs while everyone else was running down. For putting your life on the line in order to keep ours safe. Thank you! And may we never forget!!