What is a weekend? (A rambling ode to stay-at-home mothers)

I dedicate this post to stay-at-home moms/ Downton fans everywhere.

How can we ever forget the iconic and highly quotable moment the Dowager Countess, played by the incomparable Maggie Smith, remarked “What is a week end?”.  If there were ever a sentence in history that spoke to disconnected privilege, this must be it. I found myself extensively pondering what it must be like to live that life. How must it feel to have a sphinx-like indifference to the days of the week? To wake when you want, to have no agenda other than enterprises you deem worthy, to nap if the mood strikes, or to go for a walk simply because it is a beautiful day must be an amazingly glorious style of living. Can you imagine?

Ironically, I find myself in exactly this situation. I don’t work a 9-5 and am not chained to a desk, a phone, or a boss. In the spirit of full disclosure, I also find myself without a staff, an endless supply of family money, and that fabulous accent. What I do have is an endless amount of hours to do with what I wish. It’s an extremely odd feeling for someone who has focused so acutely on building a career. Most of my life has been spent working exhaustingly long hours, persuing and completing three degree programs, raising three children, running a household, and attempting to be a wife, daughter, and friend with what little time I had to spare. To this day I find myself frantically checking my phone from time to time only to stop and remind myself that there are no calls to return, no one to impress with lightning-quick response times, no fires to put out. Calm down Angela. No. One. Needs. You. ..except for Eleanor, of course. Ah, that’s right, Eleanor, my ever-present bundle of love, my cuddle bug, my mess of curls, bottomless pit, ball of energy is now a full-time presence in what used to be my very serene day. So here I sit on a Monday morning wondering what exactly is a “weekend” for a stay-at-home mother? When you flip the Dowager’s question from never needing a break to never having a break, it takes on a more somber note. When I worked full time, she was my break from work. I was happy to come home and lose myself in my family and shake off the stress of the day even if it meant replacing that stress with the stress of diapers, feedings, laundry, and sleepless nights. Now, there is no break from the stress of motherhood. I feel like a shark who must move constantly or perish in order to stay on top of everything required to run a toddler as well as a home. How did I do this while working 60 hours a week? Not well, I’m guessing.

I’ve gotten the opportunity to get to know a few other stay-at-home moms recently thanks to my local MOPS (Moms of Preschoolers) group. These are some of the smartest, most hard working women I have ever met. On top of raising a family, they are also building home-based businesses, volunteering, mentoring, helping each other out, and raising each other up, all while trying to maintain some semblance of feminine identity. I suppose a weekend to them just means that there is slightly more help around the house. That begs the question, exactly how much additional help can you expect from the sole bread winner? I am thankful for every ounce of help my husband affords me (and he affords much more than I would ever ask) but he needs his weekend for rest and relaxation just as much as the next person.

So where does a full-time mom find rest? Speaking from very limited experience, I have found it in my MOPS meetings, my Sunday mornings at church, generous family members, even play dates afford a bit of a break where mommy is not the sole source of companionship. Believe it or not, I even found rest around midnight last night when the house was fast asleep and I felt the urge to write. Creative outlets, for me, have been a lifesaver in many ways. Knitting, cooking, and writing keep me centered, happy, and remind me of who I am outside of motherhood.

So while today is Manic Monday for most of the world, today is just another day for my fellow defenders of the domicile. So, here’s to you my darlings. I wish you a week full of hot coffee, compliant children, and only mildly-annoying children’s shows.

Second-Hand Love

Don’t mind if I do! With the onslaught of Marie Kondo followers (thanks Netflix!), I’ve been cleaning up at the thrift stores. I know the whole “tidying up” thing is to reduce the amount of stuff in your house, but we still need clothes, books, kitchenware, etc....I’m just a lot more discerning about what comes into my house, and I have no interest in paying retail for anything that people are willingly donating. Today wasn’t a particularly big haul but I did get a few great items; a large salmon colored fleece throw, in perfect, cozy condition, for $4.99, a hard-adonized KitchenAid saucepan with lid for $3.99 (part of a three piece set that retails for $200), and the find of all finds, a vintage, pea-soup green Crockpot for $2.98. Seriously...$2.98! And I just can’t get over this color. It’s perfect (and probably the reason it was marked down twice). Maybe it’s nostalgia for my mother but I have been really into mustard yellow and pea-soup green since she passed.  Lucky for me, there is no shortage of these colors at second-hand shops! And yes, I have already made a lovely batch of chili and it works like a charm. I just love these pots, they are smaller than my usual slow cooker and a lot less complicated to operate so it’s perfect for weeknight meals. Before you ask, I frequent two shops, the CHKD on the Boulevard and the DAV on General Booth. If you are not a Va Beacher, find the shops located near the wealthy neighborhoods. They are always chocked full of great finds. I’ve found furs, cashmere, bone china, a cigar humidor, Hudson and Seven jeans, silver sugar bowls, vintage linen, and more for seriously unreal prices. Happy hunting my darlings!

Book Review: The Female Brain

I am an avid reader. Rarely do I have as many “ah ha!” moments as I had in reading this amazing book. To be completely honest, I saw the movie first (link below) not even knowing about the book. I think Whitney Cummings is elegant and hilarious and just genius in this role. She embodies quite a few of the hang-ups we have as women and bring them to light in an almost painful to watch manner. Anyway, back to the book. I was sitting next to my husband reading this and basically wound up reading it aloud to him because there were just so many gems of enlightenment in regards to why we are the way we are. For instance, we are programmed so intricately that we are incapable of being horny when stressed (that fact alone paid for the price of the book), “mommy brain” is a real thing triggered by a physical and chemical reaction to pregnancy and lingers well after that baby is born, and that in utero, surges of testosterone in fetuses destined to be male kill off a portion of the communication section of the brain and boosts the part controlling aggression and sex. Long story short, men and women should both have their noses deep in this book. Educate yourself my darlings.

Eat Something: Edamame Salad

At the request of many of my friends and family, I am posting the recipe for my Edamame Salad. This dish, while quite simple, is one that makes you sit back and wonder what it is that makes it taste so amazing. The flavors are bright and fresh, with just a bit of a bite and a hint of depth. It's my standby anytime someone asks me to bring a dish, not only due to the fact that everyone loves it, but it also gives me an opportunity to show my meat eating friends how delicious vegetarian (this is actually vegan) food can be.

The benefit of using frozen edamame in this dish is that it keeps the rest of the ingredients cold if cooler or fridge space is a concern. I can make it right before I head out the door and it's thawed and ready when I get to where I am going.  If I am making it for home, I can just let it sit out on the counter and not worry about finding space in the fridge while I wait for flavors to develop.  I sincerely hope you take the time to make it.

Edamame Salad

2 C frozen, shelled edamame
1 can black beans
1 can black eyed peas
1 small red onion diced
3 garlic cloves minced
1/2 bunch cilantro minced
3 limes juiced
1/4 C Olive oil
1 1/2 tsp cumin
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
1 1/2 tsp fresh ground black pepper

Mix all ingredients together well. Let sit for an hour or so to let the flavors develop, then taste and adjust seasoning if necessary.

Happy eating my darlings.

On The Third Day Of Christmas...

My husband recently educated me on an interesting concept: The Twelve Days of Christmas. He told me that we tend to build and we build towards Christmas but then the day after we take everything down. That's it. Party's over. In reality, Christmas day is actually the first day of Christmas. I had always heard the song and struggled to remember exactly what my true love gave to me on the 11th day but never put much stock into the fact that this song spoke to an actual twelve day celebration. Maybe this is an old concept to you but for me it was a complete revelation. It also gave me a bit of relief due to the fact that my grand Christmas To Do list still had some items left untouched.
So, let's see how I did, shall we?

1. Attend 'A Christmas Carol' at The Wells Theatre. (I watched Scrooged twice instead.)

2. Build a gingerbread house. (Done. FYI, if you do this with little ones, they will spend more time sucking the icing out of the bag than decorating the house.)

3. Buy some mistletoe. Make out under it. (I remember making out and I am pretty sure mistletoe was involved...and rum.)

4. Decorate the outside of my house. (There is always next year..)

5. Spend more time 'dressed up' than 'dressed down'. (Pretty sure I spent all of Christmas day in my p.j.s but overall I feel good about this one.)

6. Holiday shop at Kitsch, Etsy, and other handmade markets to support local artisans. (Thanks to my friend Ashley's pop up shop, this is a yes.)

7. Give the mailman a plate of homemade cookies. (Thank God I still have a few days of Christmas left.)

8. Send Christmas cards. (Done.)

9. FaceTime my family instead of texting them. (Done.)

10. Make edible Christmas gifts. (Cranberry Bars and Almond Toffee ingredients are laid out and ready to be made.)

11. Go iceskating. (Does watching a live Flyers game count?)

12. Attend a Christmas home tour. (I did tour my cousin Anthony's house and my friend Joe's house.)

13. Surprise someone with an unexpected gift. (Done, a few times over.)

14. Pay for the car behind me in the Starbucks drive-thru. (Ten days left.)

15. Keep a stack of dollars in my purse for the Salvation Army bell-ringers. (Done. This really came in handy, by the way.)

16. Take Christmas treats to my neighbors. (Ten days left.)

17. Keep my bird feeders full. (Done...sporadically, but done nonetheless.)

18. Read The Sorcerer's Stone (Read Grendel instead. Not sure it fed my sense of wonder but it kept my humility in check.)

19. Turn my phone off while visiting with friends and family. (I kept it face down, on mute for the most part.)

20. Spend more time as a reveler and less time as a consumer. (Shopping kept to a happy minimum.)

Overall, I think I did pretty good for as busy as this month has been. Luckily, there are a few more days to enjoy and a few more visitors to host. I hope your holidays were warm and bright, but if not, fell free to stop by for a visit. You have at least ten more days.


Merry Christmas my darlings.

Holiday Hunger

The constant activity of the past few weeks has left me in quite a state. My life is swirling around me like the thousands of snowflakes that will be sure to elude me yet again this winter. I fear that I am smack in the middle of the holidays and have no plan for the next month. Thanksgiving came and went with little thought or planning. It was still great. It could have been greater. Christmas, however, is a completely different beast. It is, by far, my favorite holiday and as such, hold the greatest of expectations. Every year I vow to achieve heights of awesomeness and every year I miss at least ten different events or holiday 'must-dos' due to poor planning. Not this year. This year, I have made a list. Those of you who know me, know that I live and die by my lists. If something is to be done, it must be on the list!
Below is my list of top twenty Christmas "Must Dos" to satisfy my hunger for a true Christmas experience.

1. Attend 'A Christmas Carol' at The Wells Theatre.
2. Build a gingerbread house.
3. Buy some mistletoe. Make out under it.
4. Decorate the outside of my house.
5. Spend more time 'dressed up' than 'dressed down'.
6. Holiday shop at Kitsch, Etsy, and other handmade markets to support local artisans.
7. Give the mailman a plate of homemade cookies.
8. Send Christmas cards.
9. FaceTime my family instead of texting them.
10. Make edible Christmas gifts.
11. Go iceskating.
12. Attend a Christmas home tour.
13. Surprise someone with an unexpected gift.
14. Pay for the car behind me in the Starbucks drive-thru.
15. Keep a stack of dollars in my purse for the Salvation Army bell-ringers.
16. Take Christmas treats to my neighbors.
17. Keep my bird feeders full.
18. Read The Sorcerer's Stone (to keep my sense of wonder intact).
19. Turn my phone off while visiting with friends and family.
20. Spend more time as a reveler and less time as a consumer.

Whether or not you have your own way of celebrating the birth of our lord, I hope that some of mine will serve as inspiration for something new or different.

Merry Christmas my darlings.

Drink Something: Kai-Pee-Reen-Ya

It's a gorgeous eighty degrees outside. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and I am desperately wishing for an icy cold cocktail in my hot little hands. There is nothing in life that pleases me more than relaxing on the back deck with a book, a cocktail, and the hum of a lawnmower in the distant background. In honor of this beautiful Mother's Day Eve, I have decided to break out my bottle of Cachaca (a Brazilian rum, pronounced: ka-shah-suh) and make a very large Caipirinha.
For those of you unfamiliar with this Brazilian staple, please keep in mind that it is not for the faint of heart, nor is it for those who prefer those cloying, candied, toothaches that bartenders are now passing off as proper cocktails.
The perfect Caipirinha should be tart, with just a hint of sweetness, and pack quite a punch. There are only three ingredients, making this very impressively named drink, ridiculously easy to make. You will need a muddler, brown or raw sugar and crushed ice, if available. A muddler is a wooden object used to crush fresh ingredients in a glass in order to release as much flavor as possible. In this case, we want to release as much juice from the pulp and as much oil from the skins as we can. You'll want to make sure that you stir as you sip to ensure that the sugar dissolves into the drink. There is nothing worse than getting to the bottom of a drink only to find that you now have to chew it.

CAIPIRINHA
1/2 lime, wedged
2 t. sugar
ice
2 1/2 oz. cachaca
Place lime wedges and sugar in the bottom of a rocks glass. Muddle for about a minute until the fruit and sugar are thoroughly demolished. This will help dissolve the sugar. Fill glass with crushed ice and top with cachaca. Give it a good stir and enjoy.

Happy Mother's Day my darlings.

Be where you are

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I've been suffering from a mild case of nostalgia. Despite society's (and my husband's) pressures to conform, I remain a die hard, pen and paper using, radio listening, barefoot in the kitchen, hard-bound-book, page turner. Now, I won't lie. I do appreciate the ability to read my Kindle, long after lights out without disturbing his highness's sleep, and Pandora is simply one of the best inventions ever but I am hesitant to fully give myself over to all that technology has to offer.
While listening to NPR today I heard a piece about the declining percentage of manual transmission drivers. This saddened me, as I am a manual driver and thoroughly enjoy it. In related news, I recently made three purchases that made my husband roll his eyes: a sewing machine, a turntable, and a refurbished 1920's Remington Model 3 typewriter complete with the original glass keys.
Back to the manual transmission. During the interview, the gentleman who was a devotee of the "stick" spoke fondly of being connected to the experience, of being in control and fully being in the moment.  I can relate. I recently told someone that I had an aversion to technology. I was wrong. I have an aversion to the virtual experience.
Enter: the sewing machine, the turn table and the typewriter. The need for these items came about because I want to be connected to the things I do instead of having them done for me. I want to feel like a participant in my life and the events that take place and know what it's like to do things "the hard way". I am convinced that we are willingly giving up this right little by little as we let the virtual seep into every crack of the authentic.
Instead of actually going through the trouble of visiting our friends, we Facebook them. Instead of shopping for, preparing, and lovingly serving our families dinner, we hop on the computer and order it without the inconvenience of dealing with a real person. Instead of putting ourselves through the humiliation of wearing those God awful bowling shoes and drinking cheap domestic beer, we simply bowl on the Wii...ok now that I kind of get. But I think you get the point.
We are losing out on real life experiences by leaning on our technology crutches. I overheard a conversation referring to cell phones as 'adult pacifiers' and to be honest, I couldn't find a good argument against it. It's true. Watch a line of adults and everyone of them will be occupying their time on their phones, sadly, as their friends and family stand right next to them doing the same exact thing. How many conversations have we missed out on because we were to busy being with someone via text, Twitter, or Facebook, instead of being with the people right in front of our faces. Wake up my darlings. The virtual friendships and experiences cannot hold a candle to those right in front of you. Put down the phone and be where you are.

Happy living my darlings.

The Day After

It's the first of March and it's 77 degrees in my house. No, I do not have the heat on, but for those of you who know me well, I can understand why you'd think that.
I opened every window in the house today. When I woke up, the staleness of the room made me feel as if I couldn't breathe...and I needed to breathe, badly. With a day as beautiful as this, I felt that I would be remiss if I didn't at least get out for a little bit of exercise. I also badly needed to move and stretch and feel something solid beneath my feet. Unfortunately, it turns out that it's true what they say about past performance not being an indicator of future performance. I went out for a little 3 mile run/walk, during which I had hoped to be doing more running than walking. Let's just say that nothing ever goes as you'd expect. That's ok though. Life goes on and you just keep moving.
Which brings me to my next point, I quit my job. Yesterday was my last day at Kincaid's. After eight years, I have finally decided to pass the torch and move on. Don't ask me why. I'm not sure I could answer in a way you'd understand. There are a million common sense reasons I could give you but none of them would be true. When it comes right down to it, I got the urge. At least, that's what I call it. For me it's that little tickle in the back of my brain that tells me that it's time to go. It happened in my first marriage, after my first enlistment, the day I met Steven, and now. When something pushes or pulls you this strongly, it's not wise to ignore it.
Yesterday, someone asked me why I happen to make such drastic changes in my life (first marriage to U.S. Navy to GM of a restaurant to the corporate offices of a tax company). Clearly this person does not know me well. I've always been the one to make the crazy decisions...to uproot myself in perfectly fine situations in the hopes of finding something new and exciting. Ok, so maybe the situations weren't perfectly fine but I could have stayed and been content in almost every one of them.
Everyone said I was crazy for joining the Navy. Then, everyone said I was crazy to get out and go to culinary school. Now I am crazy for leaving a perfectly good position for an industry in which I know absolutely nothing. I won't say that I am still finding myself because I don't believe that to be true but I do feel myself becoming stronger as a person and loving the adventure with each daring jump. I highly doubt I'll ever be disappointed.

Happy change my darlings.

Those who can, do, those who are passionate, teach.

cobrabrigade.com

I've been asked multiple times now to go back to my cooking classes. When I owned Girl With a Knife Private Catering, I also taught out of my home. I did theme nights, taught knife skills, how to flip food in the pan, the intricacies of phyllo, you name it. It was a fun way to stregnthen friendships, meet new people and treat my husband to some pretty amazing leftovers. 

My point to this story is that my passion helped ignite a new passion in others. If there is something you have a talent for, or are passionate about, why not teach it to someone? I have a friend A, who does magic with Photoshop, and another friend, S who could tell you everything there is to know about fitness. Maybe you have a flair for decorating, maybe it's a penchant for gardening. I know I could really use someone to teach me how to improve my currently brown thumb. We all have passions and it's a huge shame to keep them bottled up and to ourselves. Make sure you are finding ways to share yours. 

P.S. I will be going back to my cooking classes in March. Stay tuned for dates, times and pricing. Feel free to message me if you have questions, comments or ideas for the next class. 

Happy teaching my darlings. 

Veg Out

Last week I posted about Meatless Monday. Maybe you participated, maybe you completely forgot. Either way, I'm not here to judge. After that post, the emails started trickling into  my inbox. The discussion had started. Thank you D, for your positive affirmations about tofu. One reader, M, asked about where to start. I promised her, as well as my dear friend T, that I'd post a few simple recipes and ideas to get them started. T, please use one of these and do some actual cooking...
I hope you find these as delicious and fulfilling as I do.

High in fiber, antioxidants, and minerals, kale is the best thing you can do for your body. This recipe, stolen from a local restaurant, is stupidly simple and crazy delicious. Every time my husband sees a bunch of kale in the fridge, he always asks me how long till kale salad will be ready. Try to use 100% organic ingredients when possible. 
Kale Salad
1 bunch kale
1/4 red onion
2 lemons
1/8 C olive oil
kosher salt and fresh cracked pepper to taste
Cut the thick middle ribs from kale and chiffonade (roll leaves like a cigar and slice very thinly). Thinly slice red onion and add to kale.  Juice both lemons and add to kale along with olive oil, salt and pepper. Mix thoroughly and let sit for a few minutes to let the flavors develop. I like to eat this with chopsticks. You'll know why after attempting to eat it with a fork.

I found this salad in an Epicurious magazine a few years ago and have been making it ever since. It's smoky and hearty, yet refreshing and a bit spicy all at the same time. It's a great anytime snack or a meal when served with some wild rice and roasted vegetables. 
Edamame Salad
1 1/2 cups frozen shelled edamame (8 ounces)
1/4 cup olive oil
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 (15-ounce) can black beans, drained and rinsed
1 (15-ounce) can black-eyed peas, drained and rinsed
1/2 cup chopped red onion
Juice of one fresh lime
1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro
1 teaspoon finely chopped garlic
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Thaw edemame completely. Add remaining ingredients. Mix thoroughly and let sit for awhile to allow flavors to develop. 


I used to do cooking lessons out of my house. One of my biggest joys of teaching is in watching the face of someone who has just tasted a vegetable the way God intended. Roasting is the simplest way to cook a vegetable yet the method that, in my opinion, allows the true expression of the flavors to shine through. I like to eat these over pasta with a simple lemon butter sauce or over wild rice with soy sauce for a simple meal. The leftovers make a great omelet, quiche or strata in the morning. 
Roasted Vegetables
vegetable of choice (carrots, brussel sprouts, onions, cauliflower, sweet potatoes, parsnips, broccoli, zucchini, mushrooms, etc.)
olive oil
salt
pepper
granulated garlic (fresh garlic will burn)
optional additions: cumin, parmesan cheese, chili flakes, curry powder, toasted sesame oil, thyme, brown sugar, etc.
Chop veg into manageable pieces, toss in olive oil and seasonings to coat. Broil at 500' until browned and beautiful. If the veg is brown but underdone, move to bottom rack to complete cooking. A simple poke with a knife will determine degree of doneness.

(I'm adding this one for those times when you need a little indulgence. As this is not a low-fat recipe, serve this recipe sparingly, with a big healthy salad.)
Handed down many years ago, this recipe is an heirloom that I've treasured since I was a child. To simple to be this amazing, this recipe will feed your family with surprising effectiveness. I frequently substitute other cooked vegetables for the spinach but find that I still like the original the best. Thanks for this one Mom. 
Spinach Quiche
1 box frozen spinach, thawed and drained well
6 eggs
1 bag shredded cheddar
1 bag shredded swiss
1 frozen deep dish pie crust
Beat eggs thoroughly. Brush a small bit of egg on the bottom of the pie crust to coat. Layer half of spinach, followed by half of swiss, then half of cheddar. Repeat layers. Pour egg over top very carefully. It will overflow if you move to quickly. Bake on a foil lined baking sheet at 350' for one hour. Let cool for fifteen minutes before eating.

Faux Show

Get ready for Meatless Monday!
( www.meatlessmonday.com.)

In honor of the new year, and in an effort to expand QOMOC to include being queen of my own body, I have thrown myself into learning about all things health related. Being a Netflix member allows me access to many a documentary on topics such as the evils of the FDA, anti-cancer diets, organic raw veganism, and the meaning of biodynamic. Needless to say, the information available on how to use nutrition as a way to keep the doctor away, is mind-boggling. Please keep in mind, I am not here to convert anyone, but if you are considering transitioning into a healthier lifestyle, I am a happy and willing resource.

I have participated in Meatless Mondays and dabbled in vegetarianism/veganism on and off for quite some time now. I am a huge fan of vegetables and have used Meatless Mondays and bouts of veganism as a way to expand my culinary prowess, reduce my grocery bill, feel healthier, and get my friends and family as amp'd about vegetables as I am. (Ok, I know how corny that last bit just sounded but I love finding ways to sneak a hated vegetable into a meal only to have someone tell me they absolutely loved it.)

Enter tofu, the faux meat. Many people think of tofu as the colorless, flavorless, waterlogged blob of whatever that crazy vegans eat because they are, well...crazy.
I beg to differ. When prepared correctly, tofu can be a meaty and flavorful addition to your meal. You can marinate it, grill it, saute it, broil it, even puree it into a smoothie for added protein. Tonight I chose to saute it in toasted sesame oil and serve it over rice noodles and stir fried vegetables in a miso broth. It was heavenly to say the least. The exterior had been sauteed to a crisp golden brown and the interior had a moist, meaty chewiness to it. At the end of dinner, I was stuffed. As a bonus, the food coma that typically ensues after eating a traditional American meal did not annihilate me for the evening. I was completely satiated, but did not feel as if I needed to lie down, unbutton my pants or punish myself with a tortuous gym session. So, I encourage you, give Meatless Mondays a chance. After all, what do you have to lose...except maybe a few pounds ;)

Happy cooking my darlings.

The First Fires of Fall

It's hard to imagine mid-december as fall, but one can hardly call it winter when the temperatures are still spiking in the 70s. Alas, on those few chance, frigid evenings, I relish the opportunity to light up a big blazing fire in my fireplace. Please excuse my husbands shoes in the foreground, but I love this picture...makes me wish I were right there next to him under a heavy quilt with a spiced cider in my hands.
I suppose, for honesty's sake, that I should admit I have the tendency to take things to the extreme, as evidenced by my husbands suggestion that I take a break from throwing yet another log on the fire during a 65 degree Sunday. I can't help it though. I love the smell of a real fire, the cracking, popping and hissing of the wood, and even the act of trudging out to the wood pile to grab a few more logs. There's something very comforting in it all. Especially if there's marshmallows involved. I could take or leave s'mores, but a nice charred marshmallow is hard for me to pass up. I suppose, for me, it makes home feel more like...well...home.

Happy Fall my darlings.

"This is Calcutta. Bohemia is dead."

I decided to take veteran's day off to spend it with Steven. We forced ourselves to get out of the house, and away from the homework, housework and endless distractions that keep us from focusing on the most important part of our lives: each other. We spent a couple of hours walking around our local art museum, giving insights into our interpretations of each piece, including the sad realization that most of the male nude sculptures had their penises broken off. This was more than a little disturbing to Steven and mildly disappointing to me. Its funny how interesting it can be to view a nude form with your significant other. We both found a barely draped woman with a rather ample bottom, and shockingly perfect breasts to be the subject of our admiration for the better part of ten minutes. Ah, to be an alabaster sculpture, without dimple, wrinkle or flaw, perfectly preserved for all time...in true writer form, I digress.

Afterwards, we drove over to a local restaurant for a little bit of lunch. We sat in the back lounge, eating and drinking for hours, just talking and talking and talking. It was relaxing, wonderful, and badly needed. The restaurant had a sister coffee shop just next door. Our server informed us that they served a Turkish tea that we should try. Both die-heard caffeine addicts, we headed over after lunch and ordered up two tiny cups.

The tea was pretty good, however, the tea is not the point. When we sat down to enjoy our beverage, we started to take stock of our surroundings. Nothing matched. The artwork was a mishmash of random paintings, pictures and sculptures of no particular theme. The chairs and couches seemed to be plucked from a few random, dated living rooms, and the music was definitely not anything you'd find on the top 40 list...thank god. What struck me as refreshingly peculiar was the blatant lack of commercialism. It was a true coffee house...cozy, comfortable, and eclectic. It was all of the things that Starbucks had aspired to be before they reached the ultra-globalized-corporate status that they enjoy now.

Where I grew up, coffee houses were for outsiders. Nerds, goths, vegans, lesbians, artists, musicians, and the like, could all find solace and inspiration in a local haunt they could call their own. They weren't for elitist, organic, soccer moms with jogging strollers, anti-bacterial wipes, and gas-guzzling SUVs, and they certainly didn't have drive throughs.Your coffee was served in mismatched mugs instead of logo'd paper cups, and if you ordered a quad, venti, half-caf, no-whip, two Splendas, stirred latte, you'd be shown the door. I'm sorry, but when my coffee cup becomes a fashion accessory, it's time to rethink my beverage.

Let's recap...
Has Starbucks lost their way, forgotten their roots and turned into just another corporate circus? Definitely.
Does Starbucks still serve up a damn good product? 
Yes....(sigh)
Am I a raving hypocrite for continuing to darken their door? 
It's called an addiction.

La vie boheme my darlings.

All Hallows Eve

 Go out and stir up a little bit of magic tonight. There's a chill in the air and an electricity that is making the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight. Even my cat, Mackie, is acting wide-eyed and paranoid. Legend has it that the veil between the living and the dead is at it's thinnest tonight. Hopefully we'll be blessed with a visit from a loved one or maybe just a visit from some mischief-making trick or treaters. Either way, I hope you light some candles, watch a few scary movies and enjoy the excitement of the unknown.  I'll be watching the latest episode of American Horror Story (in the dark, of course) with an inky glass of red wine and an ominous bowl of black bean soup. Afterwards, I might just be having a little costume party of my own...after the kids have all gone to bed (wink, wink).

Happy Halloween my darlings.

Une Bouteille Du Vin Rouge

In my seven and a half years of 30 minute commutes, I once tried to take advantage of the time by learning French. This attempt at cultural immersion lasted for about three weeks, during which, I learned one useable phrase: "une bouteille du vin rouge, si vous plait".

"A bottle of red wine, please" is about all you ever need to learn in your adult life, especially if you have children, a husband, a job, or even just a cat. At the end of a long day, slowly and methodically running the knife edge along the bottom of the lip, gently lifting off the cap, inserting the worm and twisting it until it is fully submerged into the cork, gently dislodging it from the neck, and slowly watching my glass fill can be very, very relaxing.

It must be the task immersion that takes my mind off of the hours behind me; the slow, rehearsed actions that result in a well-aged glass that makes it all fade to insignificance. To be honest, there are day in which I am so desperate for relief that I slash the knife down the side of the foil, rip it off, and remove the cork with the fastest means available in an effort to remove any obstacle between myself and the contents of the bottle, ceremony be damned.

Funny joke; how do you spell therapist? w-i-n-e

One glass leads to two and before I know it, I don't even care that Steve is entertaining himself with Yoda-based youtube spoof videos. I even begin to enjoy the giggle that follows the five minutes of Star Wars impersonations. Ok, to be honest, I hate Star Wars and he knows it. Good thing he's so damn cute.

Happy drinking my darlings. 

Minimalism in a Maximalism World

Every year or so, I'll come across an article, study or book that mentions the fact that we really only wear about 10% of our wardrobe. While doing laundry a few days ago, I realized that I keep wearing, washing and re-hanging the same 10-20 items. After taking quick count of the items I own, I realized that I only wear about 5% of my actual wardrobe. Everything else is too small, too large, or something that I plan on wearing someday, eventually...maybe.

Inspired by my latest favorite book, Parisian Chic by Ines de la Fressange, I set out to compose my wardrobe of only those things that were essential to me. If I was not head over heels for it, out it went into the massive pile of donations. After about six bags worth, I had to quit. It was scary to me how much of what I owned was disposable. I had only managed to rescue about one quarter of my closet.

Here lies the issue, I live in America. Americans, for the most part live obnoxiously, consumer-driven lives. It's very easy to get swept up in the latest this or the newest that. A girl at heart, I frequently get distracted by pretty, shiny things and hastily decide that I absolutely must have them.  Unfortunately, I have spent a great deal of money on things that I don't really love, didn't really need and don't actually wear.

Seeing one little corner of my closet become streamlined and clutter-free gave me an eerie sense of calm and happiness. I had no idea the effect that a cluttered closet could have on me compared to a minimalist one. Now, when I look at that space, I get excited about my choices, not overwhelmed. I don't feel depressed looking at skinny jeans that I can't fit into because I gave them away. I also now don't have a backup plan for gaining a few pounds because my fat clothes are gone too. What's left are high-quality, timeless items that will last for years.

Happy minimalism my darlings.

"The Spartans weren't big on amenities."
-Eddie Morra

Pomme de Terre

It's spring and all I can think about is gardening. I walk around my backyard and plan things out in my head. Berry bushes over here, a vegetable garden over there, 

maybe a fruit tree or two. 

I turn the corner towards my side yard and...wow. 

I am faced with the most crazy looking rosemary bush you've ever seen. 

Planted 3 years ago, it is now a mammoth monster that decided it was tired of standing upright. It is now a resting peacefully on its right side, continuing to thrive and grow like crazy. I try to give it away, I try to cook with it, and yet, it never seems to get smaller. The more I hack away at it, the more it grows. I could have worse problems, I suppose, than a behemoth rosemary monstrosity in my back yard.

Anyway, you might be wondering about the title of this particular post. Why on earth did I 

label it "potato" and then ramble on about rosemary? 

If this is a mystery to you, my darlings, then you clearly have never had 

my rosemary roasted potatoes.

My favorite method of cooking vegetables is roasting them. There is something about the concentration of flavors and the caramelization of the natural sugars that turns any vegetable into a little piece of enchantment. Potatoes are no exception. I take small red potatoes, wedge them, toss them in fresh rosemary, granulated garlic (fresh garlic will burn), olive oil, a healthy dose of salt and fresh ground pepper, and roast them as high as my oven will allow until they are brown and beautiful. 

Add a nice bottle of red and a rotisserie chicken from the store, 

and you have the makings of the perfect dinner.

I happen to be having mine tonight with a little bit of prosciutto, brie and baguette, 

accompanied by a lovely bottle of French red. 

Bon appetit my darlings.

Feeding Body and Soul

(I am now posting all of my work from January on, the timing may be off but the relevancy still resonates...some where)

My house smells like yeast and garlic again. After a long hiatus, which included two very painful deaths in the family, I found my way back to my place of solace and comfort...my kitchen.  It is in this place where I began to feel human again. It was my bread machine that did it. I made a garlic thyme French loaf that permeated every corner of the house. I took the loaf straight out of the machine, cut off the heel, slathered it with softened butter, salt and pepper and ate it hungrily over the kitchen sink. Never before had a meal been so satisfying.
Sleepless nights,  teary-eyed days and the constant parade of well-meaning friends and family took the life out of me and I became a shell of my former self. I did as best as I could to maintain some sense of normality in my family's life. I kept up on my homework, put up our tree, swept the chimney, did the laundry and kept rather busy. I lost fifteen pounds and ran myself ragged. I hid myself in whatever work I could find. I found no pleasure in the things I was doing but with everything else falling apart around me, I had to make something go right...right?
I digress. The point is that tragedy does not last forever. It ends and life goes on. I went back to my kitchen to continue my life. I found that, while nurturing others, I wound up nurturing myself.

**It is with mixed emotion that I report that those 15 pounds have found their way back, the world has not ended and my wardrobe now fits me again.   ;)

The Gardener

Spring has sprung...well, sort of. In an anxious leap to get a head start on beautifying the exterior of my home, I made the fatal mistake of planting before the last threat of frost had passed. A moment of silence for my tomato plants please.
Luckily, my brussels sprouts, berry bushes, azaleas and forsythia made it. I do not have what you would call a green thumb. Mine is more of a drab olive thumb...that lovely murky color reserved for canned peas or overcooked asparagus, not quite the bright green of spring that it should be.
I stumble quite a bit when it comes to gardening. Somehow, no matter how badly I screw it up, how big the disappointment, I still come back every year and try again. Sometimes I learn from my mistakes, sometimes I don't. All part of the learning process, right?
Any-who, my point is this; it's the effort that counts and the payoff (when there is one) is pretty darn great. There is a sincere feeling of pride and accomplishment when I pull up to my house and see that the ivy has finally taken off and made the top corner of my front lawn look amazing, or that the lilac bush that I planted three years ago just might bloom this year. Even better is that first warm tomato of the year that I just can't help but to pull off and pop in my mouth on the spot.
So my darlings, if you're great at gardening, well, goodie for you. For those of you who are not, no matter how bad you may think you are, you will not get better my sitting on that pretty little tushie of yours. Go forth! Make your mistakes...and when you succeed, smile and be glad that, for once, something in your life went exactly as planned.
Now, any suggestions for taming a ridiculously wild rosemary bush?