Spouse rushed from the morning news on the tube and into the spare bedroom when he heard me rustle through an old cedar chest for my pink… Read more “Crazy News Gets Spouse Cookies Instead of Jailed Wife”
Tag: Life
A Berry Pie, A Pale Carpet, & A Top Chef Future?
After a 1986 spring visit to the chi-chi shops of Palm Springs, a Southwestern pastel pallet of peach, mauve and teal inspired a redo of our harvest… Read more “A Berry Pie, A Pale Carpet, & A Top Chef Future?”
Top Chef Contestant Bucks Up–‘Cuz Mama Said
In other words, buck up. Deal with it. Take responsibility. I couldn’t do everything. Skid marks cut and scarred my own learning curve. It sounds hard-lined, but as mother, father, earner and guide, the options ranged between zero and nothing.
Top Chef Cheftestant Mama
Dakota’s road to Top Chef began after a long labor some 30-plus years ago in my home where I gave birth to Dakota. The unconventional birthing included a male midwife, my late husband, a psychic, an astrologer, and my Siamese cat who was very concerned throughout the entire 22-hour birthing drama.
I Kept The Positive Door Opened And What A Result!
Once again, it proved to me that during these times of challenge and change, forward movement fueled by positive words and vision naturally shuns opposing wills draped in negativity and self-service.
August Sunflowers and Tainted Turkeys
Clearly, this is not the bird our ancestors deemed perfect for a day of thanks and giving.
The Gift: A Handful of Purple Berries
Today this wildly off-balance pendulum struck my personal life. Oh, there was no catastrophic tragedy, just a realization that things aren’t like they were or how I want them. Yes, I’m one of those former middle class Americans trying to find my way through the maze. I feel like Jack in the Jack in The Box commercial who whines, “I am so tired of this recession.”
Then I received a gift. An absolutely free gift—probably from bird poop.
My China Syndrome and the Fourth of July
You see I’ve had a thistle up my tush since the most beautiful and coolest wine/beverage chiller ever made (in China) went kaput nine months ago. It was three-months out of warranty. We installed it in our remodeled kitchen exactly 15 months earlier.
Ant Conga Line Betrays My Obsession
I’ve obsessed so much that I’ve been off the blogosphere, and I just learned, off the tidysphere.
I woke up this morning to battalions of tiny black ants marching…
Grizzly Photos Of A Ravaged Icon
CAMBRIA, Ca—In a tranquil seaside village where the headlines announce chili-cookoff winners instead of “Bloody Scene At (fill in the blanks),” last night’s violent ravaging of a popular icon and the grizzly photos that recorded the incident remain hidden from the public eye. But t in the interest of verifying the demise of the icon, I am releasing the vile photos.
The surprise slaying occurred after my early evening Facebook post “I have to create dinner. I am uninspired.” It was a day of malady. I visited worry world and disappointment land. I dealt with this like any post-menopausal woman—I binged on a handful of leftover Easter pastel Reese pieces. That bounced me into deep lethargy. Cook your own damn dinner. Get me a big fat hamburger and a beer.
Spouse noticed the lack of spring in my step and my darkly rimmed eyes. “You know there’s a big low pressure ridge coming in. That’s what’s wrong with you.” Ten minutes later the weather report confirmed his analysis. I tend to slip down a rabbit hole when a low pressure system nears.
“Great,” I moaned. “Go get us evil food.”
Spouse had been on the road most of the day. His grimace said, “You may as well point me to a noose.” So I took that as a no.
We resolved dinner with some Trader Joe’s organic chicken sausage over a bowl of fresh greens soused with red wine vinaigrette.
“What about oranges and Cool Whip for dessert?” I suggested in an effort to compensate for my earlier binge.
But an emboldened terrorist hid in plain sight. Plus oranges and Cool Whip did not interest spouse. He knew only one thing would pull me out of my slump.
He surgically cruised near the subversive’s colorful compound. With a single swipe of the hand spouse took control of the thug, held it into the air and asked, “How ‘bout this instead?”
I conferred with my high command court (conscience) and decided that the time was now. “Yes, let’s do it!” I exclaimed.
It was a vicious and violent attack without recourse (except to the waistline). This morning the remains revealed the annihilation of a beloved icon. The proof is in the photos.
The Muse Pallet 