Thursday, October 24, 2013


Lately, Pinterest has been my go-to source for finding recipes, in addition to a small obsession I may have with all things Star Wars. And Kello Kitty. And Hello Kitty Star Wars:

Hello Leia

Anyway. I prefer Pinterest over most food blogs because they're tedious and often difficult for my addled mind to manage. 

However, one of the blogs I follow looks like a food blog - it boasts delicious recipes, after all - but it's author, Dianne Swift Adams, is so irreverent and hilarious that I'm completely hooked. In addition to a handful of recipes, it is also the site where one can purchase gorgeous handmade blankets, better known as a Boga Babe.

I *almost* met Dianne once for coffee a few months ago. She was a terrific sport about being contacted with about an hour's notice on Facebook, along with a handful of other friends in the Los Angeles area, while I was getting my car serviced. I'm hopeful we will eventually meet.

Her children, Emerson and Annabel, frequently appear in her blog. Emerson is more often than not wearing only boxer briefs while assisting as sous chef. In her recipe for heirloom tomato sandwich, she addresses this very issue:

'Some people come home, kick off their shoes, and make themselves a drink. My son walks into the house, takes off his shoes, pushes his pants down to his ankles and elaborately kicks them off so they sail into a far corner. If he could he would be completely naked at home but my threshold of scrotum on every surface is lower these days than it used to be. Get your sad skin satchel off my couch and barstools, son. So our deal is at least wear your underwear."

See what I mean? The phrase 'threshold of scrotum' only endears her to me more. As a matter of fact, I'm going to find a way to work that expression into my conversations. Seeing photos of Emerson cooking, regardless of the fact that he's not wearing any pants, I can see Dianne is on to something; get your kids cooking, and cooking young. 

It makes me realize my own failings as a parent because when my kids go off to college, I'm fairly certain they will starve. Girldoll can cook, and easily mastered getting a frozen pizza into a preheated oven - but if given a choice, she prefers to be waited on. Boydoll can handily prepare himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, both BOTH kids will go all afternoon without eating rather than prepare food for themselves. 

I have no one to blame but myself. In an effort to keep a tidy kitchen, I avoided their requests to help prepare dinner. I regret it deeply now, because I believe there is a window of having fun helping in the kitchen...and that window closed for my kids about 5 years ago. 

I don't know. Maybe it's not too late?

Wednesday, October 23, 2013


I have to admit something, Internet. I have a terrible crush on a blogger. I recently started reading a blog called The T-Rex Runner, and at the risk of sounding like a Creepy Internet Stalker, I'm fairly certain we could be besties. 

No, seriously. (Even though that's exactly what Creepy Internet Stalkers would say.)

Aside from being clever and hella funny, Danielle (aka T-Rex) is a runner. What I adore about her blog and about her running philosophy in general is her humanness: she struggles with injuries, awkwardness, and bad running days. Still better yet, Danielle isn't a vegan. Her blog frequently includes a relevant and kicky GIF, each with their own unique subtitle that makes her  point even that much more awesome. 

The other thing I love? Despite the fact that Danielle is running a marathon in all 50 states, finishing up her master's degree, and (huge respect) in recovery for eating disorders...she responds to nearly every comment left on her blog.  

I have read other running/fitness blogs but instead of feeling inspired, I come away feeling like I suck. And then there is the issue of jargon and that unsettling feeling of being left out of a secret that everyone else seems to know. 

Anyway, I have been chuckling all morning over this post about all the things that might get one hidden from Danielle's Facebook feed. I relate so very much. At least Danielle is forthright in admitting the Facebook Love. I am a coward and frequently have to dramatically announce to my friends that I'm taking a Facebook hiatus or delete the app (gasp!) from my phone so I can't absentmindedly while away the whole fucking morning. 

I don't utilize the hidden-feed feature nearly enough. As a matter of fact, I have only done it to three people of the 400+ people that I'm Facebook friendly with:

1) The egregious political and conspiracy-theory poster. I had no idea when I accepted a friend request from this acquaintance that I would be put off by his outrageous posts. I don't have a problem with people whose politics differ from my own - but I do have a problem with comments with the purpose of pointedly baiting people, only to get into intense and angry debates. No, thank you. I had merrily gone along in my life prior to this. Now when I see this individual, my reaction is a visceral one: Run away as fast as I possibly can. 

2) The relative who discloses too much personal information. I had to hide a relative who posted about her first post-divorce sexual encounter. ::shudder:: HOLY HELL. I so wish I could unsee that.  

3) The frequent checker-innerYou know, that red pointer-thingy that shows where this person was: 

View Larger Map

There she is eating breakfast. Oh, wait. Now she's at the Farmer's Market. And there she is at the pharmacy! I only wish I was exaggerating. Aside from my kids, I don't need a blow-by-blow of anyone else's whereabouts.  


It's early yet, so Danielle hasn't replied to my comment...not that I have looked or anything. What can I say? I'm a sucker for a pretty blog.