There comes a time in every girls life where she finds an extra head of cauliflower in her fridge, converts that head of cauliflower into pizza, and then proceeds to nonchalantly shove that ENTIRE pizza down her pie hole. You know that whole “dance like nobody’s watching” saying we hear so frequently? This is the sneaky-awkward-alone with my feelings on a wednesday-food-blogging-girl equivalent. I ate this pizza like no one was watching (even though my dog watched the whole time–begging–judging–begging). Should we make some “Eat Like Nobody Is Watching” t-shirts? Maybe, yes. Sometimes you just have to let your hair down and go for it. Er… maybe in this case pile your hair into a messy bun on top of your head to avoid any sauce splatter that is headed straight for your coif. Don’t give me that look–like you’ve never gotten a big chunk o’ tomato sauce stuck in the ends of your ponytail. We’re friends. We can admit these things. This is a safe space. We’re in the trust tree. […]
Look-y here. I’ve managed to make you something that isn’t breakfast. I’ve apparently been on one serious breakfast-y kick. I’ve been turning out waffles, quiche, and smoothies galore. I point out the fact I’m bringing you something non-breakfast since I am pretty sure tomorrow (or at least soon) I am posting something breakfast-y. Sorry (not really).
So…yesterday got weird. Mostly because I’m me and can’t seem to stay off the internet no matter how terrifying it can be. I had a weird tingle in my leg, which I promptly Googled (bad move). Don’t do this, friends. Don’t Google every twinge or tingle or pain that happens in your body just because you can. I’ve been telling myself this for years, but I can’t seem to take my own advice. When you Google a symptom, no matter what your symptom is, it usually leads to “OMG, I AM DYING!!!” Since I was experiencing a weird leg tingle, the sage and soothing advice of the interweb made me believe that I was probably, most likely, right in the middle of a stroke. Things got dramatic. I started pacing back and forth, thinking “OMG. I am having a stroke. This is not good. This is extremely bad.” The dog looked at me suspiciously and without major concern. Aren’t dogs supposed to be sympathetic? Geez. […]
Yesterday I couldn’t get it together.
I tried to come to this space and write for you, but my brain seemed to still be on a three day weekend.
Weren’t those three days nice? My weekend included some of the following events:
Thai food with one of my main gals. I commented on how much Pad Thai was in front of me and proceeded to eat everything but two bites. I boxed it up as if to say “See? I totally knew that would be too much.” We both knew I could have finished it. I was trying to be a lady.
I managed to watch three Disney oldies. The Rescuers, The Rescuers Down Under and The Aristocats. I have a serious soft spot for talking animals of any kind. I had to talk myself down off the ledge from actually watching Santa Buddies. If you haven’t seen the cover, it’s a bunch of golden retriever puppies wearing santa hats. Some might think this is off-putting. I’m not one of these people. Don’t judge me. We can’t all be perfect. (If we are being honest, I think the creepiest thing in that picture is the glazed over Santa. What is he going to do with all those puppies?) […]
When the seasons start to change, and the weather starts to shift, I find myself going into hibernation mode. I nest. I start to do things like organize weird, neglected cabinets in the house and bake pumpkin scones. I want to be comfortable and warm and cozy. I want to stuff my face with cheese and starch. I want to break out my husbands over-sized, fleece sweatpants and make them acceptable to wear in public. Let’s redefine sexy. Right? This probably won’t happen, but I am still hoping. Hey, Pajama Jeans happened, and no one saw that coming. There’s a chance.
I am off topic. […]