This is a big deal. I live in California. It’s like a state requirement. At any moment the California police are probably going to walk into my house and take me away. I’ll be forced to explain to them that it’s not my fault that I am wearing shoes and socks in 90 degree heat. I will sell out the dog and explain that she has officially chewed up every pair of (expensive) flip flops that I own. They will arrest both of us. We will end up in the same Women’s Correctional Facility. Emma will make my life hell and I will be labeled a “snitch” for ratting her out. She will chew up all of my bath slippers and I will be forced to shower without flip flops. I hear that’s a no go in prison. I’ve clearly been watching too much Orange is the New Black. Like, whoa. Prison tangent. Normal for a Tuesday.
My point is (if there is one), it totally sucks to wake up on a Monday morning and discover that both your Reef sandals and your husbands Rainbow sandals have been reduced to leathery spit balls. At the rate we are going, I will be shoeless by August. I will be relegated to digging in my closet to find the one pair of forgotten shoes that I can strap onto my feet. Is it going to be my ugg-style cat boots (highly misguided fashion choice) or will it be the slightly furry Birkenstock clogs that I obtained for free by Christmas caroling at the Birkenstock factory in 2001? Both choices sound pretty solid. Help.
One day, in my teaching years, I found myself wearing the aforementioned Birkenstock clogs to class. I was informed by a six year old that it looked like I was wearing a couple of sea otters on my feet. I think I replied with a simple, “They are.” Gotta keep ‘em guessing. Continue reading →
How is everyone’s guacamole hangover going? You know what they say… the best way to cure a hangover is to eat some guacamole in the shower. Or was that drink a beer in the shower? I can never remember. Perhaps do both to cover your bases. Tortilla chips in the shower are not recommended, however, as they tend to get soggy when mixed with water. You’re going to have to go at it with a spoon. NBD.
You guys have probably figured this out by now. I can put it in a salad, I will sprinkle it on your donuts, and I will most certainly use it to make nutella. There is simply no shame in my game.
However, I have not publicly declared my love for pineapple. This is a love that runs deep through my Hawaiian veins. It is some serious affection. I will eat it until the acid makes my tongue start to burn.I have vivid memories of sitting with my Papa in his kitchen and having him sprinkle salt on pieces of freshly cut pineapple, and then, as he would say, “we went eat it up.” He is a good eating partner. I remember being small and always placing myself strategically near him if he was eating something like poi with dried shrimp or was cutting up a fresh tuna into sashimi. I am no fool. I would bat my big eyes, reach out my chubby kid hands, and a piece of fresh sashimi always seemed to land in my finger tips. I knew how to work that glorious system. Honestly, I think he just loves to share the things that he loves with me. It was a source of pride for him to see his tiny granddaughter developing a serious taste for all of the flavors he had grown up with on the islands. 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 →
It’s been cold and damp outside for a long time now.
Our backyard is in a perpetual state of wetness. The earth is cold and crumbly. The rain stopped a while back, but the mud just hasn’t recovered.
I’m painfully aware of the state of my backyard because I have a puppy and a white carpet.
Perhaps it was after this morning’s shenanigans where my muddy dog came tearing past me into the house, running laps and dodging my attempted side tackles, leaving a trail of her dirty feet like a horrifying dance-step diagram, that I really started longing for warmer and drier days. She is currently on time out. She seems pleased with herself as usual.
It was at 8:30 this morning, on my hands and knees, cleaning up a trail of muddy paw prints, I started fantasizing about luxuriating out in the sunshine and sipping on mojitos and piña coladas. Continue reading →