In my house, Thanksgiving is all about the stuffing.We’re not talking that sad Stove Top cornbread stuff with mushy pieces of lackluster veggies. We’re talking my Dad’s famous stuffing– the kind of stuffing that is made with savory hunks of Italian sausage, mushrooms, celery, and flavored with an umami bomb of chicken stock, and the brine-y juices leftover in a can of olives. Oh, and butter. All the butter. […]
A few things are happening right now…
For starters, I heard this rumor that fall started. But, as we know from lengthy complaints in previous blog posts, IT’S STILL REALLY HOT OUTSIDE. Like, the sun is trying to kill the earth…or, at least the Californians.
I get it. We’re a bunch of smug farmer’s market-loving, yoga pants-wearing, can’t get enough green juice, drive like total dicks when it’s raining, flip-flops in winter sporting, yes-I-can-still-purchase-strawberries-in-September, “I’ll take my Double Double protein style” buttholes. We understand. But, I’m not going to stop complaining currently. Probably because I’m a participating member of said California Butthole Club. Also, because the hills around my house are so dry, it feels as if everything will turn to Grapes of Wrath in a hot second if a hiker sneezes. That small “atchoooo” might be all that stands between us and an epic Steinbeck-worthy dust bowl. I really don’t want to be around for the Steinbeck-appreciation sequel titled The Grapes Get Wrathier. I already had to use Cliff’s Notes on the first book. Don’t tell my high school English teacher. Even though, I think he knew. They always know. […]
I know that talking about the weather is usually considered small talk. I’m well-versed in this practice. I’m the girl who will fill an awkward space in a conversation between a grocery store clerk and myself with phrases such as, “Wow! Some weather we’re having-eh?” or, “This sunshine is just bonkers, it’s just so hot,” or, “My golly! It’s raining like cats and dogs out there”. To answer your question, yes, I am probably indeed making the conversation awkward and yes, I do have the spirit of someone’s jokey grandfather. If it makes you feel better, I only wink at them sometimes.
It’s a sweaty August afternoon. And, yeah. You guessed it. I’m sweating.
I’m sitting here writing to you with an aggressive amount of coconut oil in my hair, dishes in my sink, and wearing last night’s pajamas. I really overshot things in the attempt to give my recently colored hair a much needed coconut oil moisture mask. Like, I can feel oil dripping down the sides of my face, and maybe down my back. I’ve tucked paper towels into the front of my sports bra in order to make a bib to catch the drippings. This is real life, my friends. This is real life. At any moment I could be mauled with an enthusiastic Golden Retriever tongue bath. Emma likes coconut oil a lot… so, I’m trying to type quietly as not to wake her from her power nap. My hair could become her afternoon snack. So, shhhhh. She’s dreaming little doggy dreams, her legs moving wildly trying to chase things. I wonder if she smells the oil. I wonder if she’s chasing me. Yikes! […]