Is it annoying that I wrote the title of this post in babytalk? Sorry. To make it up to you, here is the link to my very first interview as a real-live writer!
Yesterday I got a new comment on my Ab-solutely post that said “Sali a correr gordita,” which, according to Dictionary.com’s translator means “Sali ran plump.” So I sent the comment to my Spanish-speaking friends and they told me the real meaning: Go out and run little fatty.
I have some thoughts on this. First, GRAMMAR?! Seriously, if you’re going to try to be mean to someone, at least use punctuation. It adds a little extra oomph to the message. Like this: Sali a correr, gordita. See? The Italics and comma give it that je-ne-sais-quoi that would really have gotten under my skin.
Second, the dude who left the comment is named Ramiro who (according to his IP address) lives in Montevideo. Calling me a “gordita” implies a grade-school level of maturity. Because, seriously, grownups could come up with WAY meaner stuff to say – “Your gut looks like a package of hamburger buns,” or “Do you put Bag Balm udder cream on your neck to keep your multiple chins from chafing?” or “You look like Geoffrey Rush,” or even something simple like, “You’re going to die unloved and alone.” So, given Ramiro’s childish mentality, I can only assume that this insult is actually a declaration of his love for me. The last time a boy said something like that to me (I believe it was Kevin White, who called me “Pizza Face” in middle school and then threw a corn dog at me), it turned out that he wanted to take me to the Valentine’s Day dance. So, Ramiro, I’m sorry to tell you that I am unavailable to come to your Valentine’s Day dance in Montevideo – but I’ll bet you can find companionship with a tub of Vaseline and an episode of the Maury Povich Show. Or maybe with this woman.
Third, okay, Ramiro has a point. I haven’t been running. I really haven’t been working out at all. I had to cancel the half marathon I was going to run with a lovely friend next weekend. I’ve been stressed out like WOAH recently and the resulting anxiety has me feeling like I’m pinned to the couch. I’m working on getting out in the beautiful sunshine to go running – the photos on this post show you some of the blooming that’s been happening here in Chicago. But it’s hard. It’s hard to make time to work out. It’s hard to avoid being paralyzed by stress. It’s hard to feel good about myself when I’m not treating my body with love. And it’s hard to keep from flying down to Mondevideo, eating a bucket of beans and corn, pooping in a paper bag, lighting the bag on fire, and leaving it on Ramiro’s doorstep with a Post-It that says “Gordita THIS, mofo!”
I keep getting emails from you lovely people asking about some of the decor going on in my house, so I figured I’d post a little photo tour for you. With every month that passes, I get more and more content with the way our condo is coming together. Dave’s only complaint is that we’re not set up to host large groups of people, but just between you and me, I like it that way. I haaaate having crowds of people in my space. All I can think about is how messy things are going to get.
To keep myself from going crazy, I’ll tell you generally where I got certain items – if you want links to the actual pieces, leave a comment and I’ll provide.
I’m very sad sometimes about the fact that Dave is a lactard. I miss gushing over cheese with him. But then I come across recipes like this and I forget that cows even exist.
I made this for dinner two nights ago, and had enough left over for four lunches (or another dinner for two). Even better, the whole thing came together in the amount of time it takes to cook pasta. Martha recommends serving it cold as a pasta salad but I like zapping it for about 30 seconds in the microwave so the arugula wilts a little bit when I toss it in.
But let’s not beat around the bush. (I tend to do that sometimes, I know.)
Pasta Salad with Goat Cheese and Arugula
adapted from Martha, who has been ruling my kitchen this week
Okay, so here’s the situation: I’ve mentioned before how much I hate showering. I just get so bored in there. So sometimes, when I’ve finally gotten up the energy to bathe, I realize afterward that I no longer have much patience left for makeup. This happens a lot when I’m supposed to look nice, for things like parties and lunches and walking to Walgreens to buy stuffed Twizzlers.
Luckily for me (and you) I came up with a solution of sorts and it’s actually something that will work for just about any occasion, including the three weddings you’re in this summer.
The wife of an old high school friend has been participating in this li’l ongoing series called 12of12. It’s simple – 12 photos taken on the 12th of each month. I figured I’d participate, since I’m monkeying around with photography quite a lot lately…plus maybe you’ll get a glimpse into what the frig I’ve been up to lately (or not up to, such as blogging or shaving my armpits) (don’t worry, I haven’t taken a photo of my hairy ‘pits) (yet).
01 :: A Mediterranean-style lunch. At least, that’s what I’m calling it. Notice the sage leaf garnish leftover from yesterday. I’m so classy it hurts.
02 :: My study buddy, making it hard for me to do data analysis.
03 :: The first signs of spring, just outside my window.
04 :: Microeconomics homework. Lovely. It was so exciting and I can tell you’re jealous.
06 :: My cleaning buddy, making it hard for me to make the bed.
07 :: Chairs always look better when adorned by stretching puppies, no?
08 :: It’s cheese. With mustard. And booze. I don’t think I need to tell you why this blows my mind.
09 :: A lovely headband that disguises my inability to shower on a regular basis.
10 :: FINALLY getting around to that data analysis.
11 :: But not before getting distracted by my new favorite cookbook.
12 :: Mother-son photo shoot with the husband. “Your face circles match your shirt,” he said (face circles = blush).
Wanna do 12of12, or see what it looks like when a real photographer does it? Here.
You’re damn right it doesn’t taste like pasta. Well, not the pasta Dave’s used to, with store-bought tomato sauce from a can and no seasoning whatsoever. But 1 out of 1 Canadian men in my household agree that this is a friggin’ awesome dish, and I’m inclined to concur.
See, I’ve been dealing with lots of stress lately. And when I’m stressed, my life falls to pieces. No cleaning, no writing, no wearing makeup (THE HORROR!), and probably most detrimental to my health, no cooking or exercising. My diet for the past month has consisted of a daily rotation of popcorn, Thai delivery, frozen burritos, Special K Red Berries, and Diet Dr. Pepper (and I have had each of those breakfast at least once).
This week I finally looked my shiny, makeup-less face in the mirror and said to myself: “Wiggs, get the frig over it. You and Dave can’t live on Pad Thai and cereal forever.” My gut jiggled a little bit in agreement.
Lucky for me, Martha decided to put out a new cookbook that was chock-full of inspiration. And this little ditty just spoke to me for some reason. It’s easy enough to throw together in under half an hour, but has some fancy-ass shizz like brown butter and homemade breadcrumbs to make sure your guests are impressed. I highly recommend you make this right now, then get back to me about how I changed your life with this recipe (well, okay, Martha changed your life and I was just the incredibly beautiful angel who delivered the message to you).
Linguine with Cauliflower and Brown Butter
UPDATE: APRIL FOOOOOOOOOOOOOL’S! Except I didn’t really fool that many people (at least not many of the three commenters…is anyone still out there?). But for serious: apparently tattoos on the finger bone really do hurt like a beyotch, so I wouldn’t recommend them. Especially not for chicken-livers like moi.
My birthday was on March 23, and it also happened to fall during Dave’s and my spring break, so we took a 2-week trip to the Pacific Northwest. It was awesome.
Rewind to last summer…one of my best friends and I were both engaged, and she said she wanted to take her fiance to a parlor and get each other’s initials tattooed on their ring fingers where the tats would be hidden by their wedding bands. CUTE, right? Anyway, I’ve been thinking and marinating about that idea since she told me about it, and for my birthday I convinced Dave to take the ink plunge with me. I’m so glad I did! I love having something so subtle, but permanent, on my finger. Even when I’m not wearing my wedding band, I feel like a married lady.
We got the tats in Vancouver last week, so the swelling/soreness is still there and both of our letters are a little red still – sorry about that. I’ll take more pictures once the redness goes away. And right now the swelling is pretty big on my finger so the ‘d’ is distorted a bit. Still. I love them. LOVE.
I figure this is the classy version of getting each other’s names tattooed on our asses. Do any of you guys have ink? And did it hurt like a mother when you got it done? Because mine did. Holy crap.