Breakfast WIN

Brother Number One took up the Atkins thing last week, so I cooked up a badass full-on (nearly) non-carb breakfast.

Cheesy Egg Mess
Three eggs
Splash of Heavy Whipping Cream (unwhipped)
Shredded Mexican four-cheese blend
Extra pepperjack cheese
Cayenne pepper
Topped with avocado and chunky salsa

Fat mild Italian sausages

Coffee, with naturally carb-free Heavy Whipping Cream (unwhipped), Splenda, served in a perfectly weighted small brown coffee mug with matching saucer

 Tiny kitchen + lots of cooking = a wee of a time (!)

Mug!

 

Bathing Suits in January

From: Ma

To: Daughter

Opening line for a yet-unwritten book:

“Puffed up to her full Banty hen height of four feet, nine inches, she stomped around like a petulant child on the verge of a tantrum.”

Well? Well?

...

Word of the day: City Shorts. 

Jones Wear (higher end brand). 

Size 8. 

Perfect fit, length and all. 

Yes, yes. I AM the bomb...

Ok. Letchya go. I’m off to play with my ultra adorable hair and makeup (not QUITE so adorable = I feel like I’m getting stale... again... always... Besides that, my lips are disappearing at an exponential rate. Come to think of it, their disappearance is in direct correlation to the rate at which my ear lobes are beginning to sag... argh.)

Oh, yeah. One last ort of Yo’Ma wisdom: Finding a new hair stylist ranks right up there with buying a bra, trying on bathing suits in January when we’re at our fattest AND palest, giving birth, growing old “gracefully,” putting up with male idiosyncrasies, trusting your contraceptive NOT to fail, and finding a new favorite go-to lipstick/eyeliner/mascara when effing Revlon decides that, after thirty effing years on the market as a #1 seller it’s time to “retire” Rum Raisin, as one of THE most gruelingest and worstest things we, as women, must do.  <take a breather, Glenda. . . find your Zen>

OK. Rant. Over.

Please, let’s have a little “phone date,” OK?  I need a Peabody fix... I love that.  Peabody... “Have you hugged your Peabody today?”

Yo’Ma

PS – Yes. I know. I should write my own blog... and write children’s books... Quit nagging me, already.

Dear Old Laugh-o-dills

It is rather convenient that the first Weekend of Spring includes the official day the Daffodils decide to wake up from their naps.  They laugh in the face of rain, spit on cloudy weather and chilly nights, squash the wind storms and torrential downpours.  Winter -- PUH!  To my delight, I get to bask in their bright perky faces, admire the strong stems from which they stretch and yawn, smooth my fingertips over their sweet petals as I breathe the March air brisk with salty ocean smells.

 Hi. Thank you for making my weekend.

 Eerie, strange, a little unreal. 

Beginning of a science fiction story?

As the sun ducked in and out of passing clouds, the Boy and I parked ourselves on a curb to admire the weather, the folks passing by, the playing children. I got lost in the reflections on my shoes.

               Day One of iPhone:
               I don't like this thing. It can't do what I want it to do.
              
               Day Seven, eight, nine...: 
               I can check out audio books from the library on my phone!


                             PS - Love the red hoodie.  Some really
                                    awesome chick must have gotten that
                                      for you...

Good hair lately.  It makes me feel like me.

Here, I Got You These Paper Binoculars

Why, yes -- I will polish off the remaining Baker Josef's Semi-Sweet Chocolate Callets (For Baking, Melting & Nibbling) because they are so perfectly un-sweet, so yummy and melty, so delectable and crispy in fine round discs.  Nevermind the fact that I've been eating chocolate like there is no tomorrow (because if there is no tomorrow, I will feel better going out knowing I spent my last moments reveling in smooth semi-sweet perfection), on top of the sneaky handfuls of free Jelly Bellies and runaway Snickers Bars left beneath my computer monitor at work. 

I think I might be broken. 

In more ways that I previously suspected.

And now I am alternating between bits of smooth chocolate and sips of hot green tea, brewed extra strong. 

It's Bliss: Version One and Bliss: Version Two in harmony. Or, duking it out. 

Either way, I've decided this is my Heaven and I'll surely be okay if today is indeed the last day of the world.

On my mind lately(besides a basket

of other things):

              Chickens

              Chocolate

              Sleep, more sleep

                                 ... 

I feel increasingly tired as the week wears on.  Last night I dreamed of robots (again), super high-tech super computers made paper-thin and attached to belted keychains, and spies trying to get away from government officials. 

Despite that, I'm sleeping well.  Just. Still. So. Tired. 

Oh, and hens are coming out of my head.  But that doesn't appear to be affecting my sleep.

 Note to self:

Brother-Sister Bender 2011

                   Anna Banana's

                   8716 N Lombard

                   Atmosphere: Smooth and cozy

                   Pastries: Average but tasty

                   Staff: Quirky and fun

                   Overall: Yes

                       (But I might be biased

                                because of company in tow...)

                   Fire on the Mountain

                   1706 E Burnside

                   Atmosphere: Loud and Bro

                   Fries & Wings: Par

                   Staff: A bit foul

                   Overall: Take it or leave it

               Lompoc Brewery (New Old Lompoc)

               1616 NW 23rd

               Atmosphere: Chill and happy

               Beer: Um, yes

               Staff: Sharp and cool

               Overall: Definitely

Tiny beers weeeeeee!

Could very well be my favorite

photo of all time.

Sugar (x3)

April 2008


Walls and windows,
flowers inclined to host
tea parties with hummingbirds;
The distant ocean laughs
behind glass,
Lost in black paint.




May 2008


Windows,
criss-crossed with blazened
stripes of sun,
feed my inner bathing feline.

Of the Whooped Variety

What a crazy day.  And the day before: effing crazy.  Everything is crazy.  I am exhausted.
So tired. 
So burned out. 
So Ex.Haus.Ted.

All that can be done to remedy the situation: inhale a veggie burger from the pod down the block, have a brisk walk, get rained on, hunker down in my fort, slather my face in lotion, stick a tissue on my forehead and call it a night.


Love

Sliced meat + cheese + fruit
Foxy bangs
Eating every two hours


Hate

Trace scents of body odor in the elevator
Cold wind undoing my hair
Eating every two hours

What Began As a Brussels Sprouts Recipe

From: Ma
To: Daughter

I offer the following article I found day before yesterday in The Vindicator (and I quote):

"AP Ottawa Drive, OH- In spite of requesting,

but never receiving, a recipe for roasted
Brussels sprouts, recent Youngstown newcomer,

Mrs. Gee Bee Young, successfully prepared them

this evening. A friend touted it as a "a culinary

victory. . . a Julia Child moment" for Mrs. Young.

Her triumph over this recipe is made even more 

poignant because of the hardship and despair she

suffered attempting to obtain the coveted recipe.

She emotionally confided to this correspondent 

that her daughter, Miss Pea Body, of Portland,

Oregon, had recently experienced roasted sprouts

at a party and had "raved about them. . . she made

them sound almost orgasmic." As a huge fan of sprouts,

Mrs. Young continued by saying she was "inspired and

totally excited . . . and really looking forward to

trying them" and had asked her daughter via e-mail

a few weeks ago to remind her how to do it. Mrs. Young

reported she was initially hopeful her request would

not be denied because, as she tearfully revealed,

"Pea and I have always been so very close. . . we even

drink our morning coffee out of matching rooster mugs

and then, like silly little teenagers, make dirty jokes

about the white cock and the black cock." Sources close

to Mrs. Young report she had "waited patiently for days

by her computer" for a response and had grown

increasingly desperate and "nearly despondent" when she

did not hear from her daughter. Another source revealed

he had witnessed Mrs. Young "crying into her

Post Toasties. . . it broke my heart. Nobody should

have to

see such a thing." The same source added, "I'm not

surprised Pea didn't get back to her poor mother, who,

by the way, loves her more than anything, on this.

The little ingrate is a notorious beer-swilling

hummus-eating whore. A real slut. Oh, sure. She's

gorgeous and all, but that's no excuse for treating

her mother this way. If she winds up as trailer trash,

it won't surprise me or hurt my feelings. She deserves it."

Week One of Arrival Continued

The best thing about Diane's besides (duh) the sausage gravy

is the light.  Especially when it is cloudy. 

Diffused and fantastic.

Why, yes: I would love clouds made of pancakes!

Gravy + Gravy = 2Gravy

Gravy + Gravy + Brother = (2Gravy) + Brother

     2Gravy/Brother = (2Gravy) = Gravy(Brother)Gravy

Brother

Gravy(Brother)Gravy + Coffee + Merriment = Tears of happiness

The Way March Eighth Unfolds

Morning

I am already starting to regret the half a Paradise cinnamon bun I just scarfed, starting with the middle and working outward.  It was quite the helping, since the whole bun was about the size of my face.

Modesty?  Not today. 

           "I don’t know why I think I can get by with using small Post-Its. 
            I just can’t get my point across in 2 ½ inches." -KT



Afternoon

I am so over this day. 
Are you over this day? 
I am So. Bloody. Over. It.


Of note: An Evolution
    
     Ridiculous
     Ricockulous
     Ridonkulous
     Stupid
     Stoopid
     Super stupid
     Super stoop
     Stoopy stoop
     Ristoopulous
     Ricockustoop
     Ristoopucock



Eve

Rocked out on the treadmill and got up to 6.2 mph at 8% incline.  Only for thirty seconds, but man that thirty seconds sure does feel like twenty minutes.

Now my legs feel like thin spaghetti noodles, my back feels like rotini, and my mind feels clear like a smooth alfredo, even though I had beans and rice for dinner. 

And on the bus home I thought of nothing except KT's beans and rice song, sung to the melody of a Beethoven Symphony.  Playing over and over again, it helped to stave off the hunger pangs and concentrate on more constructive things, like chewing my gum in time with the melody.

Oh, and I
 finally caved. 
   Kind of a no-brainer
     at $9.99, wouldn't
       you say?

'Quectic' Friday

Love
Quiet Fridays
The accidental Coffee Club
Tiny coffeepots


Hate
When quiet Fridays become hectic Fridays
Repetitive repetitive repetitive . . .
Apartments out of my price range
 Looking for apartments that I know are out of my price range



. . . . .


Really Love
Aveeno Intense Relief Hand Cream
The waitress at Utopia with the fish skeleton tattoo
Peanut butter toast

Here I go again, lust lust lusting away . . .

Week One of Brother's Kamikaze Arrival: Success

First things first:

Makeshift Mattress (and Other Bedding)

Conveyor Belt Sushi

Ikea Brouhaha and the Ice Cream-capade

-->Love<-- this pattern. 

I want an entire wall with this pattern.

  

 Why, for less than ten bucks, did I not buy this?!

Idea: More chandeliers. 

Just one is not nearly enough.

I do not speak Swedish. 

But it sure is pretty.

Word of the Day

Today:    Rain 80%

Tomorrow: Rain 70%

Friday:   Rain 30%

Saturday: Rain 30%

Sunday:   Rain 40%

Monday:   Probably rain 20%

Tuesday:  Rain 30%

Wednesday:Rain 50%

Thursday: Rain 60%

Friday:   Rain 60%

Rain.

  Rain.

    Rain.

I know I said I hate weather hubbub -- who got snow and who didn't, what buses had chains and which didn't, who was delayed and who wasn't.  But I thought this at least noteworthy.

And it is probably what's contributing to my apartment's terrible mold problem. 

Dehumidifier = arriving tomorrow by end-of-day

Check.