The Minted Pear | A Green Juice Recipe

Are you looking at the title of this post and thinking, “Whoa. Did you just name that green juice like one would name a cocktail?” Yes. The answer is yes. I thought it would make green juice fun and flirty. It was either Kale, Pears, Mint n’ Stuff or The Minted Pear. I stand by my choice. We deserve to make our green juice fancy.  Pinkies up, yo.

Alright, so last week was off the chain. I feel like I got hit by a birthday bus. How are you guys doing? You good? Did you make any of those donuts yet? Oh, lawdy! Those things are crazy good. Go make those and then come back here and make this. The two go hand in hand. You’ll get it. This stuff is good for an “okay, maybe that fourth donut was a bit much” hangover. I should know… I drank and entire quart of it. Not kidding. It goes down real easy. […]

Delicata, Pomegranate & Avocado Kale Salad {Gluten-Free, Paleo & Vegan}

Recently I completed a ten day cleanse. I needed a reset. My body was feeling sluggish, tired and heavy. I consulted a holistic nutritionist and off I went. Shakes. Veggies. Supplements. Repeat.

I didn’t talk about the cleansing process on here. I didn’t really want to trouble you all with my inevitable “EHRMAGHERD, ALL I WANT TO DO IS EAT MY ARM OFF AND YELL LOUDLY” attitude. That happened around day seven. Detox is a funny thing. It can make a usually jovial human being into a crazy, wonky-eyed monster, willing to sell their first born child on the black market for half a steak and a glass of bourbon. Perhaps this is dramatic, but still… it’s a thing. One night I cried into a bowl of Brussels sprouts. Just sobbing and eating. No big deal. I asked my husband to ignore me, as this was all just “part of my process”. He kept his eyes to himself like a gentleman as I tried to choke down sprouts through light sobs. This is no easy feat. Did you know you use a lot of your cry muscles to swallow? No? You don’t cry when you eat? Oh, ok… […]

Kale Salad With Golden Raisins, Walnuts & Pecorino

As most of you know, my husband went out of town on business. How do you know this? Well… I wrote a pretty awkward post about it. Remember my last post where I drew you a Capybara Ballarina and there were talks of me eating entire boxes of gluten-free mac and cheese? Yeah. #SingleLadyProblems. Well, things didn’t get any more normal in the evenings to follow. I baked and consumed an entire dozen chocolate chip cookies. I spent Saturday evening making jelly and sobbing while watching the movie Stepmom. Don’t worry… I totally saw a bunch of friends and went out into the world, but when it got late and my hands needed to keep busy, I would get in the kitchen or get out a paintbrush or turn on Netflix and watch four solid hours of birthing documentaries. Whoa. Real story. I saw everything. I then spent an hour and a half researching midwives and doulas and water births. And no I’m not pregnant, I just have access to Google, which lends itself to my crazy inquisitive spirit. Thanks, Google. […]

Papaya Sunrise Green Smoothie

I officially don’t own flip flops.

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. […]