happy monday to you m’loves.

did you have a weekend merry?

mine began rather eye-opening.


where dost one begin?

on friday the plan was to see celeste and jesse forever. but as we all know, plans, they do change. and not always for the best.

instead we saw killer joe.

what the trailer left out was the first 4 minutes or so of full, fledged, frontal, female nudity, and one of the most disturbing uses of kentucky fried chicken i’ve ever seen, imagined, or listened to through covered eyes.

killer joe you earned your NC-17 rating and then some.

i had to spend most of saturday afternoon trying to convalesce the gore and trailer park grit out of my mental cortex with repetitive viewings of the little mermaid and this. luckily i was able to rebound for an alfresco dinner at home with visiting family in town. 

if you follow me on instagram, you saw some of the evening’s festivities and magic. impromptu dance skits and singing took place under the stars, as we sat around a table of flickering jasmine-scented candlelights and homemade lavender bouquets. we stuffed our bellies with a meal of hearty steaks, caesar salads and the juiciest strawberries the farm stand had to offer.

although the swampy, florida-keys like heat called for a chilled, lemon, buttermilk tart, a dessert all would have gratefully devoured; my crusty when it comes to confections beloved, would have turned his close-minded, pillsbury doughboy nose up in the air at such a summer refresher, and whereby we all would have had to listen to his speech on the merits of a “good, old fashion chocolate cake beating out ANY dessert, on ANY occasion….”

to save my guests from hunkiest’s missive, although many have it memorized they’ve heard it so many times, i killed one boar with two lemons, and bought the man his favorite chocolate cake: the killer chocolate cake from french’s cupcake bakery in costa mesa. with the most important ingredient…more so than chocolate: FLOUR….do not get my boy started on flourless chocolate cakes. he thinks it’s like serving lasagna without noodles. 

i know?! total amateur. the type that won’t order truffle fries with me because they stink. BUT it’s that simplicity that also makes me love him so. and is so why that man deserved his killer chocolate cake. 

and to be honest, everyone LOVED it.

here’s one of our guests clearly enjoying her party time. and well she should.

no this is not a photoshopped illusion. i did not double the size of miss priscilla in editing. she is normally half this size.  miss priscilla’s pre-partying enterprises involved a pre-dinner snack. only her version of snack involved the emptying out of her brother’s food bin into her stomach. she ate until she could not eat anymore. she ate until she had dark, wet circles under her eyes and her stomach could not longer fit within her skin.

like her mother, priscilla has issues with binge eating.

and while i do share my girl’s propensity to look for her happiness in the bottom of a bag of crunchy, and i will not lie and say that i have not found myself in the self-help section of a barnes & noble once or thirty times, at least my inability to just say no to that 9th pint of ben & satan’s everything but the doesn’t end me up at the vet. 

because on sunday morning that’s exactly where the three of us: hunkiest, myself and i-can’t-find-my-where-my-hunger-starts-and-where-my-childhood-hurting-ends priscilla, found ourselves. 

 bloated as a beached narwhale and lethargic as a post-bender courtney love, priscilla awoke in dire straits. doing what any rational parent would do, instead of calling the doctor, i immediately searched the internet. googling “dangerous dog stomach bloat” i became bombarded with horror story after veterinary horror story of pouchy tummies gone septic. in a matter of minutes, i was convinced she was seconds from her last rites. did you know that a bloated stomach is the 2nd cause of death in dogs next to cancer? uh huh! i thought not. we rushed our girl to the emergency vet where an equally concerned doctor took one look at her stomach and whisked her away for over an hour of exams, x-rays and observation.

our fears for our girl were quickly assuaged {especially hh’s} when we learned she merely had gas. {ugh}

can someone please tell my husband to stop laughing!

i swear to god, it’s like dating a 12 year-old sometimes.

so there you go. another adventure with priscilla. 

tell me m’loves, how did your weekend fare?