haiti

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.

kat

 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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breathe out

November 20, 2012

sunday morning prior to the rooster’s cock-a-doodle, the hunkiest and i were riding shotgun down the 101 highway for our annual thanksgiving trek up north.

my favorite vacation ever, a tradition that goes back to my years in the single digits, our thanksgiving trip to pebble beach is like no other experience for me.

one part nostalgia: my safest, happiest, hands up in the air, twirling without a care in the world, usually with my dad filming, childhood memories all seem to swerve back to “pebble”.

two parts visual magnificence: asia, europe, the tropical paradises of the world, none of them hold a candle, in my opinion to the beauty of this grand coast line. my keg of god replenished on these visits; even on the years when i’m indifferent on the whole existence of that grander good.

even the seven hour drive is a treat. the roads were hudson river school inspired. a mixture of stormy grey thunder clouds, doused with wicked cerulean skies, and an indecisive, coy sun that, at times, made the hills come alive with hues of lime and green apple.

the holiday season officially commenced with my first grande bold of the year in a big, red cup!

with coffee in hand, we jingle bell’d our way down the highway.

our tenor and soprano sang back up on the fa-la-lahs, and did a brutal “away in the manger.”

during the concert intermission we supplemented the silence with more coffee and books on c.d. 

ken follet’s fall of the giants is a highly entertaining, historical fiction novel spanning early 20th century europe and north america as the world’s super powers come to battle in the first world war. 

while not the most cerebral of novels, camus it’s not, it’s the perfect book to listen to on a drive. i’m digging the elements from high school history that i forgot, and the fun, soap opera-like bits of intrigue and romance hook you in, both men and women. 

due to the caffeine stops, canine breaks, and overall dawdling attitude of our drive there was no record time made. but we did make it to property before our daily sunset walk.

let the exhalation begin. 

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the things i’ll do….

March 1, 2010

dear me how i love that hh o’mine. let me count the ways.

for months he’s been wanting to behold all things blue-faced, 10 feet tall, and sapiently humanoid.

in 3-d no less.

i have thrown out every excuse possible:

swine flu

christmas

new year’s

i’m too sad for haiti

olympics (brandi?)

i’m too full from a cupcake binge

i hate james cameron and it kills me to give him money

blue faces don’t go with my outfit

i’ve stalled this outing forever. i was still hoping hh would come to his senses, and remember we don’t like movies like this. wasn’t that part of the whole courting process? netflix nights where we’d watch documentary after documentary. he seducing me with his cerebral cortex and matinee idol good looks. me gushing over his mismatched, bare bachelor apartment, shaking my head at ridiculous other girls whom might care about decor and design (this still makes me giggle).

where did avatar fit? did he not know me?

bribing me with an extra hot latte (he knows me) we set off for the 3:30pm saturday showing. we sat, for what seemed all of lent, and watched a silly story with amazing special effects.

hh was happy. happier was i who still gets giddy from holding my husband’s hand in a dark movie theater.

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