Susan Lynn Cope

Gluten Free Beer Bread: I went there!

Susan Cope — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 02:54:15 +0000

For almost a week now, I have been under the weather. And it has been an uphill battle to say the very least. I have been severely suffering from cabin fever.

And I have been subjected to mixing my vodka with Emergen-C. Trust me it is not my first choice. But alcohol sanitizes, you know.

As a way to combat my ADD’s need to climb the walls, I have been cooking my little heart out. My tiny little kitchen and I have produced pumpkin chocolate chip muffins, almond rosemary crackers, rosemary chicken salad, spicy roasted chic peas and the list goes on.

This afternoon I stumbled upon a recipe for beer cupcakes. Yes, beer cupcakes!

I spent the early evening attempting to wrap my brain around this recipe in a gluten, dairy and soy free fashion. I am 99% sure that I have the cake part of the recipe nailed in my brain, but the frosting and I are having a minor disagreement at the moment. However, I am determined, so competitive me will win.

The recipe did do one thing for me. It seriously pumped me up to cook with beer. Gluten free beer, of course!

And I want some bread in my life, damn it!

Beer bread! Fucking brilliant!!! <—(Yes, it almost deserves all caps!)

So courtesy of Google, I found myself a lovely little recipe that I modified to suit my dietary needs.

Really a toothpick or a skewer? I’m not Betty Crocker, people. And I am pretty sure an Alan wrench works just fine!

And it turned out to be gorgeous!

It has the perfect texture, and is exactly what I have been craving. Beer and bread are two of my favorite things in life.

Gluten Free Beer Bread

3 cups of all purpose gluten free flour
3 teaspoons of xanthan gum
1/3 cup of turbinado sugar
1/4 teaspoon of salt
4 teaspoons of gluten free baking powder
1 12 ounce gluten free beer (I used Estrella Daura)
1 tablespoon of almond oil
1 tablespoon raw honey

Mix the gluten free flower, xanthan gum, turbinado sugar, salt, and baking powder in a mixing bowl. Create a well in the center of the dry ingredients. Add the beer. Bake at 375 degrees for 50 minutes. Remove from oven. Brush with almond oil and honey. Return to 375 degree oven for 5 minutes.

Why are you not in your kitchen making this right now! Go!!!

Mind Games

Susan Cope — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 23:55:33 +0000

For the past few days I have been quarantined to my tiny little 520 square foot apartment. The flu has taken me down. I am talking the ‘I would not wish this on my worst enemy’ type of sickness. My nose thinks it is part of the Double Dare obstacle course and my eyes are convinced that they are Niagara Falls.

My new best friends come in colorful little boxes.

They go everywhere with me. And by everywhere I basically mean to bed.

Wednesday, I spent the entire day in bed. Well okay, I had a morning meeting, and I flew by the grocery store to scoop some drugs. But I was at home in the horizontal position 85% of the day.

I had lofty ambitions for Thursday morning. My alarm was set for 5 am. I was dead set that I was going to make kick boxing. Umm…try epic fail.

This was as good as it was going to get.

At least I matched!

I really wanted to whine and complain. I felt wretched. But at the same time I did not want to be a negative Nelly.

So I put on my big girl hat and some lip gloss. That was as good as it was going to get.

I ventured off to work for one hot minute. I had a few details that had to be cleared up and meetings that needed to be rearranged.

By 10 am I was homeward bound and hopped up on every do not operate heavy machinery drug imaginable.

I pit stopped by the pet store to grab Larkin food. That dog really needs to learn how to hunt and gather. Since I have been under the weather and not dog’s best friend, I got her a new toy.

She loves it with her whole heart.

Like full on loves it.

By Friday I was left with no choice. I had to participate within society. I knew I was going to have to crawl up a mountain of a to-do list all day long, and I also had an event. So forced, like it took everything ounce of energy I had to stand in the upright position out of bed. At that point, I was faced with a choice; I could just throw something on and go through the motions of the day, or I could exert the unexpendable energy to actually get ready to tackle the day.

I took a long hot shower. I shaved my legs. I took time to put on make-up. I robed myself in a pretty dress and heels. I even made sure to pack my lunch.

I will not begin to pretend I was elegant. In fact I am quite confident that I was tragic. But I tried. I gave the past few days all of the power I could muster. Ever task I tackled, I did because it was required. I proved to myself that I am whole lot stronger than I ever thought I was. And I realized that I can do anything I set my mind to. Mind over matter is the perfect equation.

“If you can’t do what you imagine, then what is imagination to you?” – Kid Cudi

Side Zippers Rule the Food Chain

Susan Cope — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 01:53:01 +0000

The other day I decided to fully indulge and have a date with myself. It was one day just for me to embrace my inner girly girl.

Shoes and makeup!

And an adorable new dress.

This detail sold me on the entire dress.

And yes, I do buy wine and vodka based on label design. I love the respect within design.

By day, I work for an off-site catering company as Director of Sales. It is locally based company owned by husband and wife, who are both there everyday working by our sides. I work directly with clients to plan menus and design not only event layouts but also event themes. I have daily consultations with chefs, site inspections with clients and to-do lists the length of legal pad every single day. But I love, love, love it!

All of the elements that are factored together to create something spectacular are like a symphony to me. My mind gets blown repeated. It is all about the details!!!

This morning, I was so excited to wear my new pretty dress. It was my feel good Monday morning treat.

As I scurried to get dressed, I found myself bending my arms in directions they are not supposed to go. There was no possible way I was going to leave house fully dressed. I was in need of some serious assistance getting my zipper up.

I am pretty sure clothing designers hate single woman. It is like they put zippers in the back of dresses with tiny little sliders in an effort to make it humanly impossible for one person to dress and undress themselves.

I am not an infant!

There is no reason why I should have to go to work half naked and ask a coworker to help. Or why I should have to stop by the gas station and ask the attendant if “[He] would mind unzipping me?”

YES, IT HAPPENED! And I probably should have learned my lesson the first time around.

But I completely forgot to ask someone to unzip me before I departed work today.

When I arrived home, I was trapped.

It took me a good hour before I was able to embrace the contortionist within myself to successfully reach the zipper.

So clothing designers, here is what is up; Side zippers rule the food chain.

There is no need for me to struggle. I do not enjoy having to add an additional hour to both my get ready process and to my put on my uniform times. My inner gymnast and escape artist do not have to learn any new tricks right now. And one year old me has already learned how to dress and undress myself.

Now I know I am not a fashion designer, but I am pretty sure the details matter. I also know that I am not the only person in the world that struggles with what I am siting as a design flaw.

Plus, aren’t side zippers more discrete? And as an very independent woman, I would like the ability to dress and undress myself.

I am highly capable of many challenging tasks, but side zippers are my trump card.

A Fresh Coat of Paint

Susan Cope — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 03:57:47 +0000

So the past few days have been filled with superior day drinking weather. It has been the perfect combination of temperatures in the low 70′s and sunny during the afternoon with temperatures falling to the low 50′s at night. I am talking windows open, music blaring and dance parties in my world right now.

And when this time of year commences, I absolutely have a uniform.

There is no outfit I adore more than a wife beater, the coziest jeans, a hoodie and flip flops. It is my automagic go to. I love it! It is my favorite! I could quite possibly live in it.

And for quite a few years that is exactly what I did. But at the same time I neglected my inner girly girl.

We used to love each other, maybe a little too much. But there was never a question of my love of shoes or all things pretty.

The other day I spotted an old table wasting away outside of my laundry room. I paused for a moment and tried to re-imagine it.

The kitchen! Yes! It would be the perfect solution to my table/island/desk that I do not own.

So, I sent a message to my landlord asking if I could buy it from her. She so kindly offered to grant it to me.

I grabbed a pint of paint and a brush because just like me, this table was ready to have its inner beauty shine.

I feel like I have spent far too long suppressing my love for looking cute for the sake of comfort.

So today, I took girly girl me on a date.

We did fabulous things!

We bought lovely new shoes.

And of course naked happened! Have we forgotten my recent procurement of naked scented perfume?

Is there somewhere I can sign up for this arrangement?

And hello, new eye shadow color palette!

I spent the day surrounding myself with all the things girls are supposed to love. And guess what? I do!

I painted my fingers and toes, and I bestowed new life to a found object.

With a little bit of encouragement and a fresh coat of makeup, I breathed new life into two things that needed a re-purpose.

Make an Idiot Out of Yourself

Susan Cope — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 20:44:23 +0000

I often keep the line item of “make a bad decision” on my to-do list, and I do ridiculous things on a regular basis. So often in fact, that I am privileged enough to have a lovely little sign above me desk.

Yes, I am forbidden from any crazy activities.

And the date on that bad boy is now on its third revision. It has now been pushed back until July 5, 2012.

For the last four months, I have been testing my limits, and pushing myself out of my comfort zone. And it is quite possibly the most liberating feeling. I do not think I was prepared for how quickly my outlook on the world would shift or the amazing highs I would reach.

So, when I saw Julie’s Facebook update that she was looking for people to join her in the Idiotarod race, I was more than a little bit up for the challenge, even though I had no clue what I was signing up to do.

It was not until New Year’s Day that I had any intelligence about the activity I had volunteered. And it was minor knowledge. All I knew was that there were costumes, a shopping cart and bars involved.

Okay, I was super fired up for whatever was in store.

A few weeks later, I learned that a shopping cart had been procured. The how didn’t matter!

So, we gathered the other Sunday and had at decorating our cart in the theme of luchadoras.

It is amazing what you can achieve with hot pink spray paint and some pool noodles.

As we arrived at the starting point on race, I was not at all prepared for the insanity that was about to ensue.

There was a shopping cart transformed to a dog sled.

Nickelodeon had brought back Double Dare.

And human chess has nothing on human beer pong!

Plus I looked like the female version of Evil Knievel wrapped up with a pink feather boa.

It was a race to ten check points. Each location was either a bar where we were required to spend 20 minutes or an obstacle we had to tackle. Not to mention that everywhere we went our shopping cart had to follow.

We arrived at the first check point just in time to grab our three heaping teaspoons of dried cinnamon that we were expected to eat. With our competitive sides shining we took down the gritty and dry spoons of spice. And it was probably one of the worst things I have ever done. I am talking horrible! I dare you to do it!! Make that double dare. (See what I just did!)

Oh and to add to the awesome, the cinnamon was decoy.

We had been duped, and someone had to bite the bullet and take down one little bottle of Frank’s Red Hot!

Give me my man card! Where’s my badge?!?

As the day progressed things just kept getting more comical. We concurred sling shots, cans of really bad beer, bottles of wine, six bars and trekked all over downtown Phoenix.

Damnit! I forget to start Run Keeper!

We only tipped the shopping cart once! Luckily no one was seriously injured.

And the Slip N’ Slide may have won the battle…

…but I won the war.

When I agreed to participate in the Idiotarod, I had know idea what I was getting myself into, and it was with acquaintances. Once again, I stepped out of my comfort zone, let go of my inhibitions, dressed up like an idiot and had a fucking blast doing so.

Sometimes I just have to remind myself that I always have the best time when I go balls to walls and do the things I am hesitant to do.

Another Notch on the Bedpost

Susan Cope — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 05:16:47 +0000

Over the course of the past three days, I have felt as though I have been called to a challenge on precisely two occasions. Competitive me wants to rise to the summons of the contests, but introvert me insists on standing on the sidelines. And those pesky little angel and devil cartoon characters have been weighing on my shoulders.

Last Saturday, I went for my second sitting for my pretty new piece of custom artwork that devours half of my left arm. I could not be any happier with the progress, and I am damn proud that I have not taken any of it like a man-baby. I am woman hear me roar.

By Monday afternoon, I had been called a wussy. Umm….”Did you just call me a pussy?” That is exactly how my brain recorded it.

Okay, I get it. I have not suffered the pain of the tattoo machine on my inner arm. And yes, now I feel the need to top it. That little devil is screaming rib cage at me like it is his job. While simultaneously the angel is insisting that I remain content.

Later Monday evening, I headed off to my new found love of kick boxing. And I was once again presented with provocation. This time it was via Foursquare. My check in read something along the lines of ‘bring it’. Next thing I know, I was being called out about the upcoming Warrior Dash. I am well aware that there are harder body destroying races out there, but baby steps people.

And little ~~devil~~ angel man you should just calm down! Because I think I really want to do both of these things, and I would love the angel and devil to play nice. Although it took someone basically staking a duel for me to consider leaping out of my comfort zone, I want these notches on the bedpost for me.

*Photo by phidauex

Eliminating for the Gain

Susan Cope — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 03:45:26 +0000

Tomorrow marks the end of my thirty day gluten and dairy free challenge that I posed to myself at the beginning of the year. It all began with a verbal commitment between two friends over random office chit chat. Stephanie and I had both agreed that we would embark on 2012 with what is for most a seemingly impossible challenge and a fresh outlook on food.

We kicked it off our gluten and dairy free January one day shy of a New Year’s resolution. On January 2nd we bit directly into our test.

No, not January 1st. What if we were hungover? Duh!

It was truly a meal made of awesomesauce bottled in the form of Rocket Sauce!

And at the beginning of this venture, most of the people that surround both of us on a daily basis did anything but support us. They taunted us and encouraged us to consume things we had forbidden ourselves from eating. I have to say that we both did a damn good job of standing our ground.

The moment they realized that were 150% committed to this dietary change, they backed off. So we proceeded at full force.

Every single Saturday morning has been spent at the farmers market. No exceptions. Almost every single meal is home cooked. Food does not come out of box. And I am devoting time to me, a lot of time.

I am bursting with energy. My mood is shiny. My skin is glowing. The jeans I was pumped to fit into after Unprocessed October are now too big. And overall I feel fucking fantastic!

Believe it or not, I have also learned a few things along the way.

Chia seeds when mixed with almond milk make a delicious breakfast.

Daura is a tasty gluten free beer but super hard to find.

Romanesco cauliflower…

Well, let’s just leave it at I learned what this gnarly looking vegetable was called.

I determined that lunch required more plastic containers than I owned, and the amount of dishes I have to wash has more than doubled.

I eat one meal at home a day, people! Did you forget that it is just me? Yes, that is one day’s worth of dishes. No, I do not own a dishwasher.

What is with all these questions!

My kitchen cabinets are free from any food with the exceptions of spices and baking supplies.

Yes, that is wine you spy. Alcohol is filtered and aged, not processed.

And that is all my kitchen storage wrapped up in one little photo.

My refrigerator only hosts fruits and veggies for vacations.

And most importantly I am beyond proud of myself for sticking it through this trial.

What started out as a little pact between two individuals with no real end goal in mind taught me self discipline and instilled a new lifestyle within me. There is no turning back at this point. I am pumped on me, and everything I have gained from eliminating two inconsiderable things from my world.

An Open Letter: Dear Mom and Dad

Susan Cope — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 02:51:35 +0000

I woke up this morning ready to kick ass and knock out not only today but this entire week out of the park. I was so excited to take a stab at a new adventure. An activity that I spent years pondering over but never actually undertaking. I had ants in my pants for 6:15 pm. My adrenaline was pumping, and I was fired up.

Somewhere around precisely 2:01 pm, I was hit with a gut wrenching, stomach churning feeling. I had received a very daunting email about the status of health of my parents. Not just one but both are in poor health. Anxiety instantly poured over me, and I no longer found myself happy with me.

I have lived in a world of resentment and a strained relationship for years. I am talking the kind of place where “It puts the lotion on the skin,” is an understatement.

I can tackle almost anything, but my parents are entirely different beast. And I am not even sure where to exactly begin…

Dear Mom and Dad,

I know it has been over 5 years since we have last spoke. And I know that our relationship is strained. Our stories of the situation vary, but that is not my concern right now.

I am not going to lie. I used to try to live up to your expectations but somehow feel that I was never good enough. I gave it my all for as long as I had it in me. I wanted nothing more than your approval in this world.

I was a good kid. National Honor Society, softball, basketball, variety letters, state champion bowler, and a full ride to a private university. I avoided trouble. While all my friends where doing drugs and consuming alcohol, I was striving to please you and to be the daughter you always thought you wanted.

But part of me feels like I could never live up to your expectations. And I know that I am equally at fault for our falling out. It does not rest only on your shoulders. I have not always given you the best of me. I have dodged phone calls and not visited home like a daughter should. I have utilized monetary means for my own well being and neglected being appreciative. Part of me felt entitled, and I am not at all okay with that.

I finally realize that we all have our flaws, and we do our best to overcome them and not project them on others. But sometimes we just cannot help it. It happens without even being conscious of it.

I know you gave it your all. No matter what, you were both 100% in to raise me with the best of intention. I am sorry that I was not 100% in it to be the perfect product of your love. I really tried. Because all I ever wanted was your approval.

I need you both to know that I love you, adore you and appreciate all the things you have done for me. No matter how many years or how many harsh words have flown in between, you are family. You are my family. You conceived me, you raised me, and I am the person I am today because of you. I not only freaking adore you, but I love the hell out you. And I am here for you whether you believe it or not.

Always and Forever,
Susan L. Cope

Nothing is Guaranteed

Susan Cope — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 05:26:21 +0000

This week has been with filled turmoil for me. I sat through two of the hardest conversations I have ever had to have. And I promise you that one trumped the other five times over. The simple fact that I managed to make through the latter without vomiting was feat all its own. I allowed myself to enter a situation where I was not so sure I was going to make it out alive, but I did.

I mustered up the courage to face my fears, and I survived. I have not quite figured out if the outcome was ideal, or if I am still at a stalemate. But neither of those things really matter. What is important is that I made my best effort to stand up for what I need in my life.

Throughout my life I have mastered the art of hiding my thoughts, feeling and opinions. And this week I have managed to almost cross that bridge. I ventured almost halfway across, and it has not crumbled beneath my feet. I am still standing. A Hiroshima like fallout is still in my sight line, but I will make it the entire length if it kills me.

Lately, I have been thriving on adrenaline. And the possible high of this challenge is something I will not allow myself to miss out on. Do not dare me! I am guaranteed to take on the provocation. And fear is a word I do not want in my vocabulary. From here on out I am going to face any challenge with iron man force.

I am going to own me and what I want with no apologies. Because it is the only way I can breathe. And it is the best way to live. I am awesomesauce in my own regard.

“What you have to decide… is how you want your life to be. If your forever was ending tomorrow, would this be how you’d want to have spent it? Listen, the truth is, nothing is guaranteed. You know that more than anybody. So don’t be afraid. Be alive.”
― Sarah Dessen

Protected: Two Plus Two Does Not Equal Four

Susan Cope — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 02:24:29 +0000