'Food'

happy fourth of july…

July 4, 2014

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fourth of july happy to you m’loves.

i hope you’re enjoying a day of leisure and revelry; where getting corn on the cob out of your teeth is the most strenuous thing you’ll do today.

i love this holiday; i’m a sucker for all things red, white & blue {well, ideally just navy and white, but i make an exception for red on the fourth,} and at heart i’m a true-blooded patriot. i love me my america, and believe it’s the most beautiful land on earth.

speaking of beauty, i’m digging this post on the 9 most iconic american beauties of all time…wouldn’t have mentioned it if my “ali” wasn’t there…do you disagree with the list; anyone they forgot? i’m not so sure about the stephanie seymour….

this morning i’m the opening act of a three-hour spin-party; if you can’t join us, you can at least  listen to what we’ll be dancing our faces off to; tap it back + turn it up!

i think i’ll deserve a major sugar and gluten-party after my AM cardio olympics. i plan for this strawberry shortcake to make its way into my tummy come 6pm.

all week-long the neighborhood has sounded like its own baghdad. unfortunately, the illegal fireworks get louder and louder each year. priscilla has been on heavy prescription medication since tuesday. the poor baby has tried thunder shirts, meditation, barricades, strawberry shortcake, and nothing seems to calm her down except doggy xanax.

she’s agreed to meet me at the corner tonight and sell me some. party on!

if you were an american hero, which one do you think you’d be? take the quiz and find out...don’t forget to tell me.

although, i’m not sure the accuracy…

i got “teddy roosevelt?”

um “hunting rifles the size of baby elephants?”—can i get a retake? or put out of my misery. please.

how many of you will be eating watermelon today? it’s kind of against the law if you don’t. lately i’ve been making a delicious red, white and blue salad i learned from my girl crush, raquel perry.

easier than taking a nap; you cut up watermelon, blueberries, feta cheese, mint, balsamic vinegar and olive oil; mix them in a bowl, and eat/serve. voilà!

and lastly here’s a friday funny for you: 26 of the most american comebacks in the history of the world…thank you buzzfeed.

happy fourth of july!

love,

katie

 

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dog days….

July 2, 2014

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it happened overnight.

summer.

gone is my cool, springtime, sweater-inducing breeze; kidnapped, along with the sun, by humid-heavy clouds, replaced with an oppressive, dank, july heat that makes my hair dreadlock down the back of my neck into a thick, sweaty mullet, and whirls the ceiling fans into hours of overtime.

find me a hammock-hanging porch, an unlimited supply of coffee, a good read, and let’s order some change of address labels until november.

iced

always the last one {invited} to the party, how is it that i’m JUST now finding out about the magic of iced coffee?

i’ll admit the idea of serving coffee other than the third-degree-we’re-going-to-the-emergency-room-HOT kind has always seemed a bit, blasphemous to me; kind of like doing push-ups on a spin bike…oh wait…

but last weekend i inadvertently grabbed the wrong drink at a coffee bar, took a sip of some poor fool’s delicious iced coffee, fell in mad love with his icy mocha dream, and then made like a bandit out to my car.

 like a dog who’d stolen steak from the dinner table {i’ve seen it done first hand!} i took off with my new prize and slurped it down before the barista police caught me; brain freeze be damned!

i’ve since been trying to perfect the iced coffee at home….not as easy as it i thought it would be..

did you know it has to steep for TWELVE hours…twelve hours!?!? twelve hours for something i just drink? i might as well grow my own coffee beans.

…any tips would be appreciated.

so far i like this recipe the best.

..mason jars help…

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speaking of mason jars, currently my house looks like it had a bad case of the mason jar stomach-flu.

i helped throw a baby shower over the weekend and the theme was:….mason jar…

not really, but pink hydrangeas and spray roses just seem to demand a mason jar.

 i want to keep the theme going.

these mason-jar recipes look delicious and super easy.

i don’t want be in the kitchen when it ISN’T hot and sticky, let alone in this, are we in florida or on the sun?-weather; these portable, pretty meals will get you outside, hopefully to the beach or into somewhere else equally beautiful, like a mall or target?

how many times can i say/write “mason-jar” in one post?

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if you are staying inside have you been watching the leftovers? or tyrant?

SO good!

i’m back to tomorrow with some summer skin savers.

see ya then, ‘kay?

wishing you a wednesday of both tides high + vibes good.

peace out m’loves.

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strawberries: a recipe!

June 10, 2014

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strawberry season is here.

the markets are ibiza dance-club crowded with this tummy-pleasing summer berry; one of my favorite foods since days of the spoon-fed pureé.

i invariably have to buy an extra basket for the car ride home; there’s no such thing as me and self-control when it comes to fresh, in-season, strawberries.

i feel a duty to provide so much more for my strawberries, than just the meager rinse and pop straight in to my mouth..{sometimes even forgoing the wash i’m so lazy and impatient.}

 pinterest, and its vortex of photo inspiration, feeds my moral obligation to commission something grander than just a chew and swallow for said, sweet berry.

for a moment i was inspired to go healthy with this pretty smoothie; i’m such a sucker for anything pink, and then for a split second, with the coercion of gorgeous photography, i talked myself into making this elegant tart.

such lofty aspirations were quickly abandoned upon reading the recipe. directions such as “roll the dough into a short, fat sausage circumference,” let me know to return back to my pay grade of opening up “capri suns” and checker-boarding pre-cut salami and mozzarella for super bowl parties.

but the white {ok–half-white}, tee-rash, hillbilly in me pounced on this strawberry pretzel salad like a hoarder ambushes the costco aisles.

it’s got everything good in life:

sugar =✓

butter = ✓

cool whip = ✓

strawberry flavored gelatin = ✓

“frozen” strawberries in “SYRUP” = ✓✓

and salty pretzles!!=✓

it’s like christmas in june!

instead of new, white jeans, i can just get diabetes.

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luckily, for my pancreas, just as i was about to run out to buy my “gelatin,” this article on using strawberry tops to flavor your water popped up.

a strawberry recipe where the only other ingredient i needed was water!?!?

move over christmas, it’s my fucking birthday!

it couldn’t be easier: chop off the tops of your strawberries..eat the berry, and put the rest in your water bottle.

fill it up with water, let it chill for an hour or so…and voila: delicious strawberry, flavored water.

better than any lemon, cucumber, mint stuff i’ve used before, and best of all it’s actually getting me to drink the water i’m so awful at consuming.

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a thumb’s up indeed.

even hunkiest was impressed with my “cooking”.

the strawberries stay fresh for a couple of days as long as you keep them refrigerated…

lemme know if you try it.

happy hydration m’loves!

 

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a weekend wrap-up…..

June 9, 2014

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monday glitter in the air to you m’loves!

i hope this weekend provided the proper dress rehearsal for another week full of take-your-breath-away moments, unsurpressable laughter, and grateful reflection.

mine did.

and more.

but first a question for you:

does betty ford take patients for balsamic vinegar addiction?

if so, i might need to take the month of july off.

saturday morning i finally succumbed to the gourmet blends oil and vinegar booth at the farmers’ market.

and ever since i have had an IV drip of their white balsamic attached to the inside of my left elbow.

i can’t get enough of this stuff; purchased only two days ago, we’re almost halfway through the bottle….some people do gin…we do balsamic vinegar….

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last night i went major {don’t click if you’re the queasy type} o-ren-ishii  on this bushel of kale.

 my go-to, no-fail kale salad recipe is super simple, and doesn’t waste any of my new precious vinegar.

what are your favorite kale recipes?

~side note…this is my fourth reference to o-ren on this blog…i can happily attest that after numerous  which quentin tarantino character are you? quiz re-takes; i time after time score “o ren ishii“–as my character!

and! and! and!—this is the third kill bill reference i’ve had in less than 72 hours….obsessed much? which quentin tarantino character do you think you’d be?

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on saturday afternoon this sexy betty tried to give me crabs.

swear to god…right in front of her children too.

instead of a round with crustaceans, bibs, and prescription ointment, i drank my first belmont breezewhich thankfully tasted like a hawaiin fruit punch wine cooler.

i’d be a much better drinker if more cocktails tasted like wine coolers…

AHA!

i just thought of a game!

if you were a wine cooler, what kind would you be and why?

i’d be “geisha berry”—–a blend of malt liquor, lychee fruit, and strawberry….a subtle, stealth, sweet on the surface beverage, but give me and hour and i’ll have your giggling behind your hand, belting out islands in the stream at a karaoke bar {all things i’ve done—-not sober.}

i was able to get 3/4 of it finished before i had to walk home, ass and headache in hand…..#rookie.

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the rest of the weekend i down-timed it in bed with my face in this book.

another fun, quick, summer read; a family with secrets {name me a family without?} goes to mallorca for two weeks and emotions erupt…

so that’s the wrap-up…what about you? reading? seeing? doing? drinking? eating?

oh and don’t forget to tell me your wine cooler name?

and can we be friends please? i don’t think i can keep up this finding my self-esteem in the bottom of a belmont breeze much longer.

love,

katie

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lusting lake life….

June 4, 2014

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talk of a summer holiday has been bubbling up more and more at our dinner table of gluten-free and grass-fed.

i’m drawn to lands shopping mall-repellent, where starbucks doesn’t punctuates every corner and alley, and whole foods actually means food from the ground, tree, farm or local, non-have-to-mortgage your house market.

for at least one week i’d like a boulevard of conifer pines in exchange for blow dry bars and gel manicures.

give me an unpopulated, open, blue lake, and i’ll give you a girl on her best behavior {profanity NOT included.}

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my first true lake experiences were my high school, spring break debaucheries on lake havasu; thongs and tops typically optional—and i’m not talking “shoes.”

a week of banana boat spf {2}, zima in the can, george strait and neil diamond cd’s galore, chili con carne out of the can, and a body of water so crowded and dirty i’m still in disbelief my friends and i never contracted ecoli or hepatitis………or “motherhood” for that matter.

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what we lacked in promiscuity we made up for in folly and play.

playing cards, reading anne rivers siddons, watching the pirate movie for the 500th time, re-enacting “the happy ending” scene, and making the inevitable {hopefully burned} home movies of 8 girls dancing around singing “standing outside the fire!“—still such a great song!

there’s something about a lake that feels a bit less pomp and circumstance than life say, at the sea.

the whites don’t have to be starched, the collar need not its pop, a bare foot is appropriate attire for a meal lit by candlelight.

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california may be foremost known for our sandy beaches and pacific blue, but good grief, our beautiful lakes can give the surfers a run for their money any day.

one of my favorite memories is my dad teaching me how to fish at bass lake.

just me and him and an empty bucket……i couldn’t bring myself to “bait” the line.

and the whole idea of hooking a fish made me cry, shoulder-shaking, nose-running, peace erupting tears; my dad easily succumbed to letting me knock it in a beach chair, holding my baitless pole in the water.

this was the weekend i discovered vegetarianism.

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then there was the summer i took my broken heart and drowned it all the way to the bottom of june lake.

i swam and swam and swam, dived and dived and dived…until the constant shards of glass, lodged in my throat from a shocking divorce, softened into more manageable, occasional lumps of coal in my stomach.

more helpful than time on the couch or a prescription drug, my time underwater hid the noise of my raging screams and camouflaged any tears.

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but per my originial memory the lake is more of a happy, social, spread-the-good, not the grief, place to commune.

there’s something about a boat ride at dawn, with the ones you love, that brings out the truth serum in me.

along with the mascara and designer shoes, rigid, protective walls and insulating egos are shed; left at the last turnpike before meeting the road for the lake cabin.

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and i can’t think of anything more romantic than a dockside for two, hunkiest in hand, a homemade meal under the stars, with the ducks and fireflies playing sweet harmony for a post-dinner slow dance.

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anyone else lusting a little lake life too?

what are your favorite’s?

do you go fancy nancy? or are you the camping type?

this is my official throwing it out to the universe…i’m thinking somewhere in the south this year.

last one in is a rotten egg….

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in the mood for june….

June 2, 2014

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 no gloomy june for this katie-girl.

my morning’s coffee is extra black, and for once, i have clean hair.

life is grand.

yesterday, june greeted us with open-wide, sunshine’y arms, and a periwinkle-blue sky to match.

 sunday’s weather was so glorious, so post-card picturesque, i had to stay in bed all day, shades drawn, lights off, eye mask on.

i alternated between napping, reading, and catching up on mad men episodes to buffer my anxiety over all the natural beauty taking place outside.

a healthy dose of grime and angst here and there is needed to keep my blood sugar even; don draper served serve that purpose precisely.

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tis the season for the beach read.

last week i blew through this novel in a day. it IS the epitome of a beach read: murder, sex, family drama, a summer escape to a lake, etc….not a lot of brain power required, but it drew me in like an easter brunch buffet with a belgian waffle bar.

i’m now balancing out my brain cells with this…..very enjoyable…not sure it’s pulitzer material though? anyone else read it?

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so i’ve officially made THIS song my summer jam.

no, it’s not a new release, but it just oozes hot, sultry nights; think convertible for two, driving down pacific coast highway as the sun sets….

i’m loving it for both my spin and pilates classes….

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my hopes for june aren’t grand or audacious.

i’d like to feel the sand beneath my feet.

i want to perfect this cocktail……i might even make it non-virgin!!

i’m going to learn lightroom even if it means locking myself in a DARKroom to do it…anyone out there with experience with this effer of an editing software?

and, as always, the dance parties will continue with flourish and panache.

what are your june endeavors?

monday happy to you m’loves.

 

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berry, berry good…

May 28, 2014

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they’re here! they’re here! the berries are here!

every summer, when our blackberries make their annual bloom, our old, beat-up, seen too many days in the sun, backyard-wall gets a vibrant coat of green, purple, and pink.

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no paltry, orange county-starved housewife looking berries for us; these juicy gems are plump + fat with the perfect tart to sweet ratio which makes not eating them straight off the vine a lesson in self-control and willpower.

as you’ve read before, i’m not one who’s been able to master the art of meditation.

this morning, the mindfulness i used to not apply sunscreen to my toothbrush {as has happened 4 times over the last 30 days,} was the equivalent of a mumbai ashram internment; my teeth and gums are fresh and clean, but unlike yesterday, they are subject to sunburn.

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 there’s something about berry picking though; getting my actual hands on the prickly bush, fingertips grabbing pretty stains of magenta, butterflies humming around the berry blossoms, and the gentle, warm weather we’ve been having of late beckoning me to stay outside longer than i typically do—it all charms me into my own meditative trance.

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speaking of unbreakable catatonia….this one did not bat one inky eyelash off her mamma.

the fear of missing a fallen berry is paramount in priscilla’s world.

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meanwhile jones just helped himself straight from the vine.

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i wish i could say i whipped up a fantastic berry fool {aptly named, yes?} or that i swept hunkiest off his feet with a homemade blackberry cobbler {the one dessert i can make.}

but alas these popcorn-size bites of blue-violet bliss barely made it to the sink for a wash, before i gobbled them down like a hungry, hasty giant.

one need not have their own blackberry vines to experience the joy of the berry season. get thyself down to your farmers market {such a blogging cliché i know–i just gagged on my own vomit.} farmers markets are teeming with berries right now and it will make you so angry and guilty to see how much less expensive and better tasting they are than the stuff in our commercial markets {yes i’m talking about YOU whole foods!!!}

so talk to me goose: what’s your favorite ways to eat blackberries?

a berry-good wednesday m’loves.

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it started with an innocent text..

March 18, 2014

 

so last week the goddess {aka raquel perry, the fitness stalker, my girl crush,} sent me a text:

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i mean i was raised not to be rude.

and since when am i to turn down a homemade, crispy-riced, i need two napkins please, confection?

especially when they were hand-delivered, hot-pants clad, mid my nut-house, DMX-themed spin party, last saturday morning.

that’s real, i’ll-hold-your-hair-when-you-puke, friendship.

{luckily raquel has super short hair though.}

famished from my hip-hop-palooza on a bike, there was no ladylike postponement, waiting until i got home before i face dived into my gifted, baggie of sweet, crunchy goodness; with crispies in my lashes and pretzel crumbs in my belly button, i bare teethed texted raquel, demanding the recipe….

textthe thing is….i have been known to “demand” recipes in the past….

remember beautiful dena?

i was hell-bent on getting her chicken soup recipe too; stalked her new jersey ass, threatened to kidnap a twin or two of hers, and held up traffic on a bridge for a day until she gave it up.

she did.

but then i read how complicated it was {it really wasn’t but i’m an imbecile,} and the liklihood of me making chicken soup NOT from a can is faint.

but i promise to share her recipe soon with y’all.

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but these krispy things…{is krispy with a “k” or a “c”?,} really did read easy {you saw the text.}

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there are the rice puffs….

brown rice puffs, unsweetened.

3 cups.

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 spelt pretzels….

1 cup {chopped}

now i have NO idea why they have to be spelt; raquel specified spelt. i don’t know what spelt is; if you ask me “spelt” sounds like a species of fish. but if raquel tells me to eat used baby wipes, you bet i’m going to chow down on a cost-co sized box of those pre-moistened, not-so powder fresh anymore, towelettes…have you seen this woman?

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1/2 cup brown rice syrup….

this makes it sweet.

{yes, i may or may have not added more than she said….i did.}

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1/2 cup peanut butter…..

“save the rest of the jar for later date emotional eating binge”….i do—-{these are my notes, not raquel’s}

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1/2 tsp of vanilla….

2 cups for the floor and the counter.

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and this is why i hate to cook: directions like “a pinch of salt.”

what the f*^! does that mean?!!?!?

“a pinch” is a very partial amount….especially when it comes to salt….a pinch of salt to me, someone who thinks there’s too much salt in the salt-free food i buy, is one, micro, unseen speck of that tangy, white poison….yet if you were to ask me what a “a pinch” of sugar looks like, i’d need a forklift to show you.

give me metrics people!

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nevertheless they turned out delicious…albeit looking a bit yellow and dijon mustard-ish…

hunkiest liked them, so that’s all that mattered.

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 is it just me or does anyone else think of the maggot scene from poltergeist when you look at this plate?

i told raquel that was my only gripe; from far away i thought i’d made worm casserole.

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apparently i bought the wrong kind of cereal; her fancier, euro-erewhon are less larva-looking.

priscilla also gave her seal of approval. she loves when i cook; especially with peanut butter, she knows she’ll get the spoon.

but really, if you’re looking for a delicious, healthier alternative to rice crispy treats, and you’re not allergic to peanuts you should try this super-easy recipe.

happy cooking m’loves.

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where’d you go, katie?

March 10, 2014

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here in southern california when we have weekends as beautiful as we just had, it’s funny how, for two days, we seem to forget about taxes, jobs, and healthcare.

instead we bask, like jaundiced, carefree seal pups, vying for space under blue skies and cotton-balled clouds.

saturday morning, in a room packed, bike to bike, with people i worship, i danced my face off, to gangsta’s paradise and yes, a little miley, with my fellow newport beach gangsta’s.

every week we sweat and rock to the beat for sixty, “can i have a hallelujah?” minutes.

this is truly my favorite time of the week: this dark room, that music, and this crew.

on a high that no pill, injection, cheese plate, or shot of tequila could ever replicate, i walked/drove proudly {maybe even smugly} to my next class, a barre class, stopping several times to converse, visit, etc with people and the general public, rejoicing in sunny skies, emerald smoothies, and my other various, first world pretensions.

it’s in barre that i stretch, elongate, and awaken my inner martha graham—a beast which SHOULD be supressed.

a packed class, but i made sure i was front row, center….. for all to see.

{disclaimer–i’m in teacher training so i’m asked to be in the front row–most know that i prefer back corner, in the dark, hidden, invisible, non-existent.}

and see they all did…45 minutes into my grĀnd, vainglorious, “up an inch, down an inch” performance, as i lifted my leg back into arabesque, a quick glance at my form in the mirror confirmed that, yes,:

my pants had been on BACKWARDS all. morning. long.

to all you monkeybutts who didn’t tell me—-guess how many fingers i’m holding up right now?

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clearly i needed a change of scenery.

my fashion faux-pas called for a road trip.

hunkiest piled us all in the car saturday afternoon and we buzzed up north.

i wore a dress to be safe.

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i forget how limited food options become on the road when one doesn’t eat meat.

beef jerky is now its own aisle at most truck stops.

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was able to excavate some fruit though…

and i think it’s even considered “raw,” right?

i mean it’s not like i microwaved it or anything?

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typically i can’t read in the car….it makes me sick; like chocolate covered strawberries sick {WHY  do people RUIN TWO PERFECTLY GOOD FOODS!?!?!?!?}

but i cannot put this hilarious book down.

where’d you go bernadette” by maria semple.

it’s the story of a woman who absolutely LOSES her mind….and i could be …..i love this woman.

bernadette {the title character} stole my heart with the following four lines:

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 i’ve actually only been to a buca di beppo once.

it was for my best friend’s bachelorette party.

i was very young and very smug.

do you notice a theme here?

 i sent back my margarita because i didn’t like the taste {too alcoholic.}

the second one came back a little better, but 20 minutes into THAT drink i noticed my rigatoni morphed into large, sandy conches, hoisting miniature, blue mermaids, who brushed strands of their linguine hair as they recited def jam poetry to me.

no one else at the table could see this though.

the next thing i remember i was back at the hotel calling security on MYSELF.

fuck buca di beppo.

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who knows at what moment we start to lose it?

it’s my theory that we all have these little hiccups of mini-breakdowns throughout the day/week/month/year, but some sort of reflex {luck? god? self-preservation? a mirror?} pull us back, just right before, that tip-toe, into the never-never-straight-jacket-land….

i was explaining my theory of the daily break-down to hunkiest on our drive back last night….

and then i looked down at my feet…

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friday i’m in love…..

March 7, 2014

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friday buttercream frosting on your toes, fingers, and in my case, hair, to you m’loves!

how has mademoiselle march been treating you so far?

are you ready for warmer days?

the kind that calls for knees exposed, shoulders bared, and the ice-cube requisite cocktail?

me too.

well maybe not exposed knees….my knees haven’t seen the light of day since 6th grade.

here are a few sweetmeats i’ve fallen in love with this week:

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i don’t pop molly, i rock j.crew…..

spring the j.crew catalog finally arrived.

i’ve been neck-deep in pages of hot pink and polka-dot, my heels clicking like the tail of a tennis-ball chasing puppy.

selections have been made in case hunkiest asks…

i’m definitely going steady with this sweater, come may 5th….{birthday candles optional.}

and this entire look needs to happen for a date night.

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about a year ago my body, primarily my mannerly mane of hair, my non-perspiring constitution, and my somewhat predictable taste in food, turned on me and revolted—ukraine style.

i don’t talk/write about this hurtful coup d’etat because i don’t, nor does my doctor understand it….and it’s just too depressing to dwell on…

{the obviously theory is hormones, thyroid, etc..but all the tests have come back fine/inconclusive…}

but the point of this, rather long, {let’s admit–yawn-inducing} back story has to do with my new find.

for most of my life i have detested chocolate…loathed it; likened it to cruella deville and beets.

yet as of a year ago, chocolate has become a new, daily obsession; i crave it like a dalmatian craves its spots. i must have it, or i will skin said puppies, spots or no spots.

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enter tonic scene raw organic bars.

made from organic raw cacao mass, organic raw agave nectar, and organic raw cacao butter, just one piece of these bitter chocolate lovelies is the perfect antidote to my angry, 4pm hankering for dark goodness, and luckily no canines have to suffer.

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ok. officially on the lupita bandwagon.

love her.

loved her acceptance speech.

and loved even more her other speech on beauty that left the room speechless.

loved her dress.

i loved his speech about her.

she is divine.

lupitaapparently i’m not the only one with the lupita crush.

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iggy azalea’s “fancy” is this week’s jam….i’m loving the video based on the clueless movie…

have you taken the buzzfeed quiz, “which clueless character are you?“—{i got christian}–swoon.

and speaking of JAMS—if ANYONE can find me a radio edit of major lazer’s/pharrel’s “aerosal can”{warning: explicit!!}…i’ll be your best friend…

so that’s just a little of what i’m loving on this week…

oh..and of course…i’m loving on YOU for coming by to see ME, HERE at my blog party!!

come by again next week?

till then, see you on the other side of sunday m’loves…

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