A T-Shirt Recipe

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Okay. After posting some new shirt designs last week, I got some feedback that the manly men want more shirts that don’t feature the image of a cute little girl. (Come on, boys — what’s wrong with sporting a cartoon girl on your chest?!?) With marching orders in hand, my in-house designer (a.k.a. the hubby) got to work.

Here’s what he did:

  • Step 1: First, we came up with a concept — a caveman flipping a tire carved out of stone — and then Fitbomb sketched out a rough drawing.
  • Step 2: After some revisions, he got to work on the final drawing using a non-photo blue pencil.
  • Steps 3 - 5: Once we were satisfied with the look, he inked the illustration and put it through our scanner.
  • Steps 6 - 9: Using Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop, hubs further refined and colored the design, and then uploaded it to Spreadshirt

And here’s the finalized image. It’s now available in my t-shirt shop!

What do you think?

Paleo Eats: 9/30/11

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Happy Birthday, Fitbomb!

He’s assured me he’s safely arrived at his midlife crisis. 

This morning, Big-O, our in-house mini barista, pulled us shots of espresso

…and helped make his dad’s birthday frittata.

Hubby and I split the frittata, which was made with leftover emergency protein, four eggs, a splash of cream, and chopped cilantro.

After breakfast, I went to the women’s class at CrossFit Palo Alto and spent an hour making sure I’d be incredibly sore in the evening. Tomorrow will be worse, but it’s the good kind of sore that I welcome.

I spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon stomping around the house, super-pissed off because the Kenmore chest freezer in our garage STILL hasn’t been fixed or replaced. Apparently, the Sears warranty buys you nothing more than the following:

  • A three-day wait for a service technician to come look at the freezer;
  • A four-hour service window, during which the technician does not arrive;
  • A very late visit from the technician, who spends an hour scratching his head, only to tell you what you’ve already known for days: The damned compressor is busted.

On top of that, the repairman told me that he doesn’t have a replacement compressor and needs to order one. And he doesn’t have time in his busy schedule to come back and actually fix the freezer until a week from now.

AND? Labor and part for the repair costs $500, which is THREE TIMES what I paid for THE ENTIRE BRAND-NEW FREEZER. “But don’t worry,” the tech told me. “It’s all under warranty, so Sears will pay for the repair.”

BUT WHY WON’T SEARS JUST REPLACE THE FREEZER SO IT CAN SAVE SOME MOOLAH AND I CAN ICE MY MEAT TODAY?

He shrugged. “We can’t do that.”

I’m done with you, Sears.

[UPDATED 10/1/11: Wow. I got a super-quick response from the Sears executive office! A nice woman named Deidra (whose job is to deal with gripers like me) got in touch with me and is working to replace my freezer! It pains me to be a complainer — I usually just stew in private — but sometimes I guess the squeaky wheel gets the new freezer.]

After the repairman left, I made myself a quick lunch of leftover Kalua pig lettuce tacos with mashed guacamole.

I had half an avocado remaining, so I broke out my new super-duper Avo Saver!

(Thanks for the tip, Marcia!)

Fit Daffy and her adorable son came over in the afternoon and she patiently listened to me bitch about the dismal state of my chest freezer. She also generously gave me a huge stash of Hawaiian Sun frozen coconut milk!

Are you all worried about where I’m gonna store the precious packets of medium chain trigycerides? Or the three bags of meat Fitbomb brought back home from the freezers at his office in anticipation of our chest freezer actually being fixed? DUN-DUN-DUN!

Never fear, Dr. HA's mother offered to store it all in her empty freezer until our $180 freezer gets a completely nonsensical $500 makeover! Yay! I've got my own Paleo fairy godmother!

Now back to our regular programming…

For dinner, we celebrated hubby’s birthday at Martins West

It was a relaxing way to finish the day — good grub and laughs with our little posse.