so even after last weekend’s debauchery with pizza dough and all things mozzarella i have been able to-turn the beat around-gloria estafan style, and pony up on clean eating again.

although i’m sad to report, my celery-in-smoothie affection no longer holds court. i like my greens, but mr. celery is a bit too verdant, and “is that miracle-gro with my banana” for this girl’s i’ll-have-whipped-cream-with-my-gummi-bears taste buds. 

d9b03d52637611e28ad722000a9f1498_7  luckily i’ve committed to the pursuit of making the perfect bloody mary for spring. have you checked garden and gun’s newest issue? they say the secret to their perfect mary is barbecue bitters. do any of you have a stellar mary recipe you’re willing to share with me?

pretty please?


all week, i’ve been dreaming in the past. not nightmares really, but returning to times ago best left behind. rear-view mirrors can be dangerous if you forget to see the oncoming traffic ahead. i prefer the occasional glances back which help me stay grounded on my current road.

i’m paying attention to these visits to the past, but i’m keeping them there:

in the past. 


today’s “work” actually feels easy. there IS always a loving perspective; especially for others. even my so-called worst enemies {that sounds so lame} maybe some terrorist overseas i guess? even someone like that, i can always cultivate major love and warmth for. truly.

it’s the self-kindness that sucks. aaah! the doubt. the unworthiness that creeps into almost everything i do or say.

trying to treat ‘that’ with love is definitely my battle. my albatross. my peanut butter jar in the pantry. 

talk about a wednesday confessional to you m’loves. how many “our fathers” and “hail mary’s” shall i say?



all photos from my instagram.