Sometimes you gotta take the day slow. Breathe. Allow yourself the be lazy. Watch some terrible television. Zone out. Meditate. Allow your dog to lay her whole body on top of your body and snooze. Maybe this is just what I’m telling myself. Maybe It’s the late afternoon and I’m sitting here typing while wearing a negligee over a pair of hopelessly baggy sweatpants. Maybe my hair is not washed. Sometimes Wednesday just wins and you have to surrender to its midweek slump. That’s what’s happening over here. But, while I’m busy nailing the position of hot-mess-blogess, and girl-covered-in-dog-hair, I can also be busy nailing this Garlic & Herb Crusted Eye Of Round. It takes only a little bit of prep, and spends most of it’s cooking time just sitting in a cooling oven. I might not be able to handle showering before 4pm today, but I can handle lazily cooking a piece of beef. We all have our priorities. Mine seem to strongly align themselves with meat making it’s way to my face. […]
A couple of weeks ago, I found myself sulking outside of a local bakery. This isn’t a gluten-free bakery, but they do make a fantastic gluten-free scone. I arrived too late in the day, and as usual, they were completely sold out. However, my wheat-eating husband bought himself some ridiculous looking apple-stuffed, almond-stuffed, hopes and dreams-stuffed croissant. I was irrationally upset about this situation. I could feel my blood pressure rising as I watched bits of pastry flake off onto his shirt, and tiny bits of apple adhere to his adorable mouth corners. All I wanted was a scone. I briefly considered not eating breakfast at all. How could I? I had been dreaming of that scone for… well, at least the last thirty minutes. I could taste the flaky bits of berry filled dough in my mind. No other breakfast would measure up. I was on a scone only hunger strike. I was quickly becoming an insane person. This happens when hunger sets in. I’m still myself, but the drama is cranked up to eleven, and the tears start to nag at my ducts, begging to be released. It’s as if I’ve melded my physical person with the frenetic emotional instability of Buster Bluth, and the overly emotive face of Oscar The Grouch. If you’re wondering, my husband really loves when this happens (he doesn’t). May I remind you that all of this is happening OVER A SCONE. Ugh. […]
I don’t usually write blog posts on Sunday evenings. I’m usually in the throes of doing a week’s worth of laundry, meal-prepping, and simultaneously trying to nap with my mouth open and watch old episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. Yes, it’s hard to do all those things at once, but I’m nothing if not ambitious. Or, if we’re honest, sometimes half the laundry doesn’t get folded, only vegetables get chopped up for my “meal prep”, and I’m like WAY deep into a Grey’s Anatomy binge. Like, WAY deep. Like, season 10 deep. Like, Bailey might have OCD and Meredith and Christina are fighting and April is going to marry what appears to be a thirty five year old virgin DEEP. Ooof. None of this is really important though–just the simple point that on Sundays you won’t usually find me here furiously typing up every weird thought that happens to come to my brain.
But, tonight, I found myself thinking that all of you need the recipe for these super easy taco bowls. ‘Tis the season. I want to be the Santa Claus of your Cinco De Mayo celebration. Santa de Mayo. Except, I’ll wear a sombrero and my belly will jiggle like a bowl full of guacamole. My sleigh will be pulled by donkeys. I demand that you leave out taquitos and a glass full of tequila. Yes, I will still be coming down the chimney–because, Santa. Ho-Ho-HOLA! FELIZ CINCO DE MAYO! A merry taco bowl to you, and to all a goodnight. Someone feel free to stop me any time now… […]
Cinco de Mayo is swiftly approaching.
I’m not Mexican. But, on Cinco de Mayo I get to pretend. I get to high five all the tacos with my face, raise a margarita or two to my mouth hole, and worship all things guacamole. This is special for me. But, almost any excuse to put guacamole or carne asada in my face is special for me. Do we need an excuse? I’m not sure we do. I suppose I could live every day as if it were the fifth of May. Minus the kitschy sombrero wearing and the early afternoon margarita. Yes, every day could be the fifth of May. Therefore every day could be special. Did I just discover the meaning of life? Don’t answer that. […]