And I as sifted through a shallow tray of pens, crumpled brown paper napkins, playing cards and party favors, I spotted a bright white orb.Read More
Knees buckling on the way to my car. Can I drive? Yes, you've got this. I notice the morning marine layer on the mountain as I drive home, the sky turning soft pink from grey. The song from my latest playlist envelopes me, and I'm smiling inside, but too tired to sing along. I drive along, on autopilot, like a passenger staying awake to be nice.
Now home, I swing my legs out of the drivers seat the way my body was trained after the injury. I skip the kitchen, as making lunches will have to wait. I make it to the bedroom, and lay down on top of the covers, sweaty clothes, gym shoes, and all. My eyes close, I sigh, breathe. Just give me 10 minutes...
13 men and zero women are working on a revised health care bill. Deciding what might be appropriate levels of care for bodies unlike their own. Disregarding the fact that women grow humans inside of their bodies. Forgetting that they were also born from the strength and miracle of a woman’s body. Ignoring the fact that their own mothers carried them inside of their bodies...nurturing, protecting, cultivating.
13 men and zero women are changing the rules for the disadvantaged, the weak, the elderly. Have mistaken their privilege for the right to disregard others. Must be confused, to have excluded themselves from the same restrictions they expect us to now be grateful for.
13 men and zero women do not understand things like sexual assault, maternity care, mental health, or family planning. They must have forgotten that we have a Constitution. That there is an Equal Rights Amendment, or simply, they do not understand that we are all HUMAN.
13 men and zero women.
Moon waxes May
Rising stars with zodiac
Kids who say thank you, and what can I do to be helpful?
Not doing dishes
I spend a lot of time in the kitchen, and use a fair number of tools to pull off 30-minute dinners, all day bake-a-thons, breakfasts on the run and celebratory shin-digs.
These made the cut:
Capresso Infinity Conical Burr Grinder, Stainless Steel. Because, coffee first. Grind it fresh people, it’s soooo much better. A burr grinder allows you to adjust the coarseness of the grind for your preferred brewing technique. Size DOES matter.
Global MinoSharp 3 Knife Sharpener in Grey/Black. I like my coffee black, and my Wusthof knives SHARP. It’s not totally foolproof but it’s what the knife sharpening guy at Sur la Table uses...
Pampered Chef Silicone Oven Mitts. Hands down (heehee) the best oven mitts out there. Donate your “hot pads” to Goodwill. These are all you need.
Pampered Chef Large Bar Pan. Okay, I have never been a PC dealer but I can seriously give testimony to these stoneware pans. I love baking on them--roasted vegetables, cookies, salmon, you name it. You only wash with hot water, seasoning it over time like cast iron.
Le Creuset Signature Flame Oval French Oven. Like a little black dress, you can rely on this sexy beast for any occasion--braise your beef and caramelize your shallots, simmer your stew and roast your bird. C’est nécessité!
What are some of YOUR favorite things?
wait for the rain
imagine trip to Mexico
fall into Instagram
listen to the rain
Assemble greens, bowls, platters
Pick a lemon
Blend with olive oil
Pick up kids
Move cookbooks, bowls
back and forth
and back, and down
and back again.
Add plant. Remove plant.
Bring it back, but lower.
Bright bowls up top
step back squint, consider...
!! TIME errands
(ice, beer, kale)
Make a platter.
Gather fennel, fig leaves
Oh right, rain. Wet grass, dirt.
Wipe your feet.
clean your room
Forage for nuts olives apricots
snap peas zucchini tomatoes
pears & parmesan
“I’m thinking we should switch the sides of our sink for dirty/clean...”
Wrap wrap wrap Bag. Tissue
Party favors: Design labels, print, cut
Shower, wash hair
In a late afternoon cruise of Facebook this headline grabbed my attention--"Swear Like a Mother". Although in my head it sounded a lot more like "Mutha" because as most of us know, you cannot fully pronounce the "er" if you're going down this road.Read More
I punched in and out of a timeclock in the kitchen, right outside of the pantry. The machine made a tiny buzzing sound when it stamped my card. It felt very official. And very intimidating. The hallway that housed the timeclock led to the main kitchen area, adjacent to the dishwashing room. The floors were smooth brick red tiles with dark grout. There was a gigantic bread mixer, commercial ovens, and massive pots and pans that weighed a ton. I was twelve.
The retreat center was on a lake, and from the large, wide dining room you could see the water and hot pink orange sunsets. It was our job to set the tables for meals, and bus and wash the dishes when conference guests were done. The kitchen annex with the dishwasher was steamy and damp, and smelled of detergent and wet food. It housed a super industrial conveyor style Hobart, the kind that could whip through a single rack of dishes in three minutes flat. Slide it in. Pull the lid down. Steam. Pull the lid up. Slide it to the right. Clean. Disinfect. Dry. There were a couple of sinks, too. One for you to rinse the dishes, and load the racks, and one that held the pots and pans. I dreaded the pots and pans. But still, I scrubbed on.
I was the youngest of the crew, as the rest were teenagers and they all just put up with me because my mom was a cook. I knew I was annoying because I was slow, cautious. Not helping them get their work done quickly. The day I broke a plate I cried, and they couldn’t conceal their frustration any longer. Stop crying, it’s no big deal.
And of course it wasn’t, to them.
A ll (the)
What’s LAME? Overreacting. Obsessing about my weight. Judging others. Staying up late researching stick ‘n poke tattoos. Not pursuing joy. Feeling guilty about watching TV. Comparisons.
What are GOALS? Sleeping. Running when I feel like running. Giving people a pass for being __________ (ignorant, ditzy, slow, annoying) AF. Pursuing joy. Downtime. Boundaries. Acceptance. Loving plenty.
Writing Prompt: The Unrequited Love Poem
*Creative writing was my guilty pleasure in college. That, and my semester long course on Viriginia Woolf. Sometimes our professor would take our class outside, under the trees on Bascom Hill in Madison, Wisconsin. We'd read poetry, write, and share our work.
Americano, To Go
It’s been months since I’ve seen you
Did you fall out of your
doppio habit, Starbucks
An awkward game we played
eyes darting from your screen
pretending not to be distracted
I’m willing you
to look at me.
I know you’re married.
That time I ran into you
at a birthday party in the park
screaming 6 year olds, cake
out of context.
It was raining, the last time
I was wearing a black jacket
uniform tall black boots
felt fedora, no umbrella.
You spoke to me
about the weather, my hat
for something more.
It may be 2 words, or 200, but I'm starting it now, May 1, 2017. It's commitment versus quality. Consistency over count. Public pledge. no judgement...please.
1 of 100
Prompt: Location, Location, Location
The birds are chirping. It’s a chatty, layered conversation with tones that dip, soft whistles that coo and staccato darts that pierce the morning air. I’ve trained my ears to translate the dull traffic noise into a quiet ocean roar so that from here, it feels like I’m in a treehouse on the coast. Reality is close enough and that pleases me
I’m sitting in the breakfast nook. I could spend all day in here, now that it’s transformed from it’s 80s Oak glory into my Pinterest dream. It features my favorite colors--blue and white. This felt like the smallest room in the house, with lowish ceilings and god awful fluorescent lights under “crystal” plastic sheeting--all to hide an unfortunate access point to our attic on this side of the house. Poor planning by quick and dirty developers. The cushions I’m perched on are redone in a nubby linen blend that somehow passed the 30,000+ rub test. Ready to withstand thousands of bum touches, the benches are partnered with pillows in patterns with watercolor dots, shibori stripes and ikat diamonds. While I imagine that I’m typing at a white Saarinen table, it’’s really Ikea, and two months in already has a scratch in the surface. Disappointed, not surprised.
It’s light, open and cool in here now. White above, navy below. Shiny white subway tiles cover the open arch wall framing the sink, stagger stacked under the open shelving which proudly boasts a rainbow of cookbooks, plates, bowls, glassware, and jars of nuts, seeds and grains. I’m doing my best Emily Henderson and Justina Blakeney to style the shit out of this wall.
The sink itself is a prize--one splurge in my mostly DIY budget. Wide, single basin farmer’s style apron front Kohler. The faucet, in Champagne brass, is like the shiny unicorn’s horn of a strong, white, cast iron beast. Surrounding the sink are smooth, quartzite countertops meant to mimic Calacatta marble. No regrets. These are still beautiful and certainly more durable, with veins of stormy sky and earthy clay. Virtually indestructible I was told. Supporting the new work surface are cabinets painted in Secret Society. A deep, dark blue meant for sailors and serious handshakes. The doors are decorated in brass, as any brave captain might be.
While the sink is a prize workhorse, the opposite side of the kitchen features your basic four-top gas burner--saved in the reno and now crowned in a graphic Moroccan tile backsplash. From corner to corner, counter to cupboard, sit bold blocks of pattern in black, white and azure, creating the kind of wow moment that covers all of the crazy flaws you might otherwise get hung up on.
I don’t miss the oaky warmth, the chipped tile, the worn sink. The 80s suburban nostalgia from Stranger Things. Yacht rock on replay. Now it’s Honne, I’m home.
It’s taken me 45 years to truly identify as a writer, though in many ways this has been in my core all along...a kindergarten poem titled “Kittens,” an invitation to join the Foxy Foxes club, creating the menu for a “cafe” I ran out of our kitchen. No novels or sceenplays, but still, the text.Read More
As a young girl who saw Star Wars in the theater and inadvertently sat through two screenings in a row, it was Princess Leia I aspired to--she was a leader, brave, and bright, with a wry sense of humor.Read More
As much as it was painful, watching Making a Murder was fully engaging. I found myself (like many others, I’ve read) yelling at the TV, cursing the smug prosecution team, and eventually, shedding tears.Read More
Making scratch dinners in a rush can be stressful. I’ve got a few standards up my sleeve that seem to please the man-boys in my life. By popular demand (you know who you are), here are my answers to: “What are your go-to dinners?”Read More
Under a sky full of stars and a bright crescent moon they gathered on the beach after dusk, stoked the fire and shared their stories. Trials, heartache, lessons. Was it the lunar cycle or their age? No matter, it’s obvious these women are in the thick of it.Read More