1) Blow drying your hair while it’s 90 degrees outside is not ideal. You will sweat. A lot. Put on your mascara AFTER you are done if you do not want to look like one of those sad ceramic clown masks from the 80′s. Or heck, let your locks air-dry. You can call your semi-curly mullet “beachy”. It’s totally the season for that. Ugh. It’s a hot mess. Literally.
2) Going to the gym at two in the afternoon is the best. No one is there. Except that one guy, with his button down shirt tucked into his jean shorts. He is looking at your butt. You can see him doing it. There are mirrors everywhere. Okay. Maybe it’s time to change machines. Definitely.
3) I would like to hang out with a Capybara. I imagine us dressing up in matching outfits, walking the streets and dancing to this song. My brain lives in these places. It can get kinda weird in there. Continue reading →
This time it was broccoli. I got jazzed about it. It looked so good. Tiny little green trees begging to be steamed. Who fantasizes about cooking broccoli? Apparently, this girl. I tend to go to the grocery store at 8am, pre-breakfast. This is most likely a poor practice, since I am hungry. I am fairly sure this is how bacon seems to land in my cart effortlessly each week. Besides the hunger factor, I LOVE the grocery store in the early morning. It’s usually deserted. I can raid the spinach and kale section without people looking at me funny. I can stand in the nut aisle and just gaze and ponder without someone trying to hustle me to get to the hazelnuts. It’s the best. You also tend to see some people who are really serious about their grocery haul. I once saw a woman with her cart filled to the brim solely with prune juice. Curious. Continue reading →
When you are a kid, there’s pretty much no vehicle more awesome than an ice cream truck. It’s sugar on wheels. I remember the ice cream truck targeting our neighborhood since it was filled with kids. My brother and I would perk up, then in a joint effort run to our parents. “Can we PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE get some ice cream?!” It was as if nothing else mattered and maybe we could possibly die if ice-creamy goodness did not hit our lips in the next two minutes. Sometimes the ice cream truck would travel to our house close to dinner time, and the answer would be no. In these cases I remember the world ending a little bit. There was some light pouting, maybe some foot stomping. My brother, who is six years younger than myself, would either follow my pout-y lead, or in a true act of excellence THROW himself on the floor. We were dramatic. Mom ignored it. Good move, mom. Imagine what we could do if we had an audience! Continue reading →
You know that moment when you open your eyes and you can feel that your face is puffy? You reach over to your nightstand in hopes that your fingers will meet a glass of water, but instead you just end up unplugging a lamp, knocking off an alarm clock and dropping your cell phone. The headache sets in. A headache that can only be described as “this is what happens when you mix champagne with gin.” Or, “this is what happens when you mix half a bottle of champagne with gin.” OR, “this is what happens when you mix half a bottle of champagne with gin, eat animals from both land and sea, have butter as a legitimate side dish, swear you are not going to have dessert and then eat half of a chocolate bar, pass out on the couch in a sloppy champagne fueled coma” situation.
Sounds like another successful Steak and Lobster Day (or shall I say “Valentines Day” for all you non Steak and Lobster-ers). The husband got home a little bit early. We cooked together. I spiced up the steaks and got to work on our side dishes. I whipped up a mashed cauliflower with garlic and wilted chard situation as well as a Greek salad. Peter cooked our meat to perfection, melted some butter and mixed us some cocktails. I had planned to get a bottle of wine at the grocery store, but in my intense steak and lobster excitement I managed to forget. Instead, we went rooting through our cabinets and found a a bottle of champagne. We then proceeded to make ourselves French 75′s. This is a cocktail that combines gin with champagne (yes, this might be a red flag). Of course once we opened the bottle of champagne we decided that we could not let it go to waste (Perhaps we are the red flags?). Continue reading →
These are the first biscuits that I have ever baked. Ever.
I wasn’t raised on biscuits. In fact, we never had them in our house. We were the family with the stash of Hawaiian sweet rolls. We occasionally baked those crescent rolls that came out of a can. Does that count? Probably not. Would it make a difference if I told you that sometimes we would roll mandarin oranges up into the crescent roll dough to make them fancy? No? Ok, fine. I will stop trying to impress you with my childhood culinary prowess. I wasn’t exactly the Doogie Howser of baking, but I had dreams.
This week I found myself craving something savory and bread-y. When I found this recipe for Joy The Baker’s Feta, Chive and Sour Cream Scones, it was game over. I knew I wanted to try to make them gluten free. What was the worst that could happen? Not much. Honestly, if you put enough butter and cheese into something it’s usually an automatic culinary win. However, there was a chance (as there always is with gluten free baking) that my buttery biscuits would end up being buttery-rock-hard-nuggets-of-terror. (Honestly, have you ever picked up a loaf of rice bread at the store? It’s heavy.Weaponry, if you will). For this reason, I added in some almond meal to keep them moist and light and then crossed my fingers. Continue reading →