so last night i rocked my kitchen hard. i pulled out an old favorite recipe from allrecipes.com, and transformed it into a magical taste sensation the likes of which has not yet been witnessed on this plane. (vrooooom!)
behold: liz's peanut butter noodles
1/2 cup chicken stock/broth
2 tbsp soy sauce
4 tbsp peanut butter
1 1/2 tbsp honey
4 cloves of garlic, minced
1 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp chili powder
two small carrots, julienned
two green onions, sliced, whites separated from greens (racist!)
2 tbsp chopped peanuts
8oz spaghetti
cook spaghetti as per instructions. drain and set aside.
combine broth, soy sauce, peanut butter, honey, garlic, ground ginger, and chili powder in a saucepan. cook over medium heat for about five minutes, or until peanut butter fully incorporates, stirring frequently (it'll look weird for a while, just let it do its thing). add carrots and white parts of the chopped green onion. lower heat and cook another five minutes.
put spaghetti in a large bowl. pour sauce over it, and add greens of green onions and chopped peanuts. toss until spaghetti is coated. eat forever and always.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
+100 things that make me happy+ #2: tea
i'm not really one for broad generalizations. they usually just piss me off. that being said, there are two kinds of people in this world: coffee people and tea people.
oh sure, plenty of people like both; i'm fond of a mocha every once in a while, and sometimes my betrothed likes a cup of chamomile to help him fall asleep. but there's always a preference, a choice you'd immediately make when asked what you'd want if you were stranded on an island that just happened to have electricity, clean water and a pot. and for me, that choice is tea.
my enjoyment of tea is so basic and ingrained into my psyche that it feels uncomfortable, almost wrong to talk about it like it's anything special. because it's not, it just is. sky's blue, water's wet, liz drinks tea. done.
my day begins with a cup of tea, always black, with cream and sugar (fancy english styles!) if given the option (i.e, if i can afford a can of it) i drink republic of tea's vanilla almond or cinnamon plum. unfortunately, delicious teas such as those are around $10 a can for 50 bags; which isn't terrible, unless you're jobless and watching all the dollars. for those who are (me), there is big lots! (also perfect for finding the accompanying tea snackeries)
the birth of my tea devotion is an almost perfect parallel to my sister's childhood induction into the hall of coffee drinkers: it all starts with mom. whereas my sister, as a wee sprout, would sit with mom and drink coffee, i would always join her in a cup of breakfast tea (red rose, and a whole tin full of tiny ceramic animals) with cream, sugar, and a freshly baked cookie. (usually chocolate chip; see previous post)
mine was not the most overwhelmingly awesome childhood ever, so, in retrospect, i guess these tea times were even more comforting and important. as a result, whenever i'm feeling like absolute crap, one of my first thoughts is "let's make a cup of tea."
oh sure, plenty of people like both; i'm fond of a mocha every once in a while, and sometimes my betrothed likes a cup of chamomile to help him fall asleep. but there's always a preference, a choice you'd immediately make when asked what you'd want if you were stranded on an island that just happened to have electricity, clean water and a pot. and for me, that choice is tea.
my enjoyment of tea is so basic and ingrained into my psyche that it feels uncomfortable, almost wrong to talk about it like it's anything special. because it's not, it just is. sky's blue, water's wet, liz drinks tea. done.
my day begins with a cup of tea, always black, with cream and sugar (fancy english styles!) if given the option (i.e, if i can afford a can of it) i drink republic of tea's vanilla almond or cinnamon plum. unfortunately, delicious teas such as those are around $10 a can for 50 bags; which isn't terrible, unless you're jobless and watching all the dollars. for those who are (me), there is big lots! (also perfect for finding the accompanying tea snackeries)
the birth of my tea devotion is an almost perfect parallel to my sister's childhood induction into the hall of coffee drinkers: it all starts with mom. whereas my sister, as a wee sprout, would sit with mom and drink coffee, i would always join her in a cup of breakfast tea (red rose, and a whole tin full of tiny ceramic animals) with cream, sugar, and a freshly baked cookie. (usually chocolate chip; see previous post)
mine was not the most overwhelmingly awesome childhood ever, so, in retrospect, i guess these tea times were even more comforting and important. as a result, whenever i'm feeling like absolute crap, one of my first thoughts is "let's make a cup of tea."
Monday, March 7, 2011
+100 things that make me happy+ #1: chocolate chip cookies.
what's this? 100 things that make someone happy? that someone being me?
a while ago i started a list at work. that list was 100 things that make you happy. i got the idea from some article online, i think it was in the yahoo dating section or some crap. anywho, i think i got to maybe number 20 before it was time to leave, and then my coworkers found it and lorded over me that they had the power to turn me into putty in their hands because they knew what made me happy, BWA HA HA HA.
long story short, i never finished the list. so i have started it over, and will post all one hundred things i come up with. some will be tangible, some will be intangible. some will be adult, some will be childish. sometimes i will falter, and feel like a loser because i can't even think of 100 happy things and what's wrong with me. and then sometimes i will kick myself in the ass and get over it and continue with my list.
#1: chocolate chip cookies
there are a LOT of cookies out there. macarons, macaroons, peanut butter, brown butter, chocolate, vanilla, sandwich, wafer... it would take charlie sheen's mind to fully elucidate upon the entire spectrum of cookies that exist in this world (or "terrestrial realm", as mr. sheen would put it).
that said, the one cookie that will always remain beautiful in my heart and mind is the chocolate chip cookie. it has everything delicious in this world: butter, sugar (two kinds!), salt, chocolate... and then you mess with deeply browned butter; all light brown sugar versus white and dark; milk chocolate chips vs. semi-sweet vs. 88%; coarse sea salt... my god.
and considering that the chocolate chip cookie is a cookie that is infinitely open to experimentation, they are almost impossible to screw up, and therefore stand as the litmus test of all bakeries, cafes and coffee shops. if you can't even get a chocolate chip cookie right, then why the hell am i going to trust your scrambled eggs or pork chops? i'd probably come out with worms AND head lice. (yes, your crappy pork chops would give me lice. because you failed at chocolate chip cookies)
i am still on the search, like so many in this world, for the chocolate chip cookie. luckily, or perhaps unluckily, as there are billions of palates in this world, there's millions of recipes. i have a folder in my bookmarks dedicated to nothing but chocolate chip cookie recipes. there are 17 recipes in it. most of them proclaim to be the "best" cookie ever, and extol its magnificence up and down, elaborating upon its crumb, and moistness, and chip-to-dough ratio.
what is my idea of the perfect chocolate chip cookie? well:
1. it has to be big. if you're going to eat a chocolate chip cookie, eat a chocolate chip cookie.
2. a high chocolate-to-dough ratio. notice i didn't say chip-to-dough; if you use those awesome chocolate discs instead of chips, then obviously you will have a higher ratio of chocolate but a lower ratio of chips. you will also have a high ratio of delicious.
3. soft. crisp is meringues and shortbread. hard is for biscotti. the perfect chocolate chip cookie must have a firm, chewy exterior, and a moist, almost gooey interior. and it must also have...
4. a good shelf life, meaning that it retains those texture variances for a few days, or as long as they last in the jar.
5. a good backbone. the dough has to have something to balance that chocolate. i recently tried my hand at browning butter for a cookie recipe, to develop those malty, caramel-y notes that people wax romantic over in food blogs. i unfortunately did it too well, and ended up with ghee. i used it anyway. they were ok. i also didn't use vanilla, having read earlier that day about a certain famous new york cookie shop that didn't use vanilla in their chocolate cookie recipes, and they have a cult-like following for their chocolate chip cookies.
again, they were ok.
so i have some baking to do, some practice to tuck under my belt--or gut, depending on how long it takes me to the get the recipe right and how many "failures" i'll have to taste test along the way. until then, here's a recipe that hasn't let me down yet, and is oh-so close to my perfection.
best big, fat, chewy chocolate chip cookies
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda (i added a full teaspoon last time i made them, and they had, in my opinion, a better fluffiness to them without being cake-y)
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup unsalted butter, melted (if you know how to properly brown butter, by all means, rock on)
1 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1 tablespoon vanilla extract (sorry fancy new york bakery with slews of fans, but there was a little something missing when i didn't use extract. and it was extract.)
1 egg
1 egg yolk
2 cups semisweet chocolate chips (i used 72% chocolate disks)
now, when i make chocolate chip cookies, a secret i've learned is to make your dough, then refrigerate it for at least eight hours, longer if possible. i think my minimum in the past has been twelve, i usually strive for twenty-four; and i've read tell of those who say anything less than 36 hours is just a waste of time. if you need your cookies NOW, however, preheat to 325F. and you should have parchment paper. parchment paper is the BEST.
sift together your flour, soda and salt. my method of sifting is to whisk it with a fork. set aside.
cream together your melted/browned butter and sugars until well blended. beat in vanilla, egg and egg yolk until light and creamy. mix in dry ingredients until just blended. stir in chips/disks.
drop dough by the QUARTER CUP (1/4 CUP) onto your prepped sheets. no, really, do it. don't look at your silverware drawer for a tablespoon, grab your quarter cup measuring cup and fill it with dough, and then put that dough on a sheet. you will like yourself more for it, i promise. the original recipe says to leave three inches between, but i found that between the refrigeration, the extremely melted butter, and the extra baking soda, they keep their form fairly well, so you can probably get away with less room.
bake about 15-17 minutes, but definitely check at the 15 minute mark. you want toasty edges and sorta-soggy centers. let them cool for a few minutes on the sheets, then move them to a rack to complete their cycle of coolness.
there was something i was going to add and now i can't remember, dammit. OH! yes. if you end up refrigerating your dough, leave it in the fridge until your oven is heated and you're ready to start shoveling dough onto your totally prepped sheets. the cooler the dough, the more likely it is to maintain its form. it has something to do with the fats in the butter and whatnot.
annnnnnnd enjoy.
a while ago i started a list at work. that list was 100 things that make you happy. i got the idea from some article online, i think it was in the yahoo dating section or some crap. anywho, i think i got to maybe number 20 before it was time to leave, and then my coworkers found it and lorded over me that they had the power to turn me into putty in their hands because they knew what made me happy, BWA HA HA HA.
long story short, i never finished the list. so i have started it over, and will post all one hundred things i come up with. some will be tangible, some will be intangible. some will be adult, some will be childish. sometimes i will falter, and feel like a loser because i can't even think of 100 happy things and what's wrong with me. and then sometimes i will kick myself in the ass and get over it and continue with my list.
#1: chocolate chip cookies
there are a LOT of cookies out there. macarons, macaroons, peanut butter, brown butter, chocolate, vanilla, sandwich, wafer... it would take charlie sheen's mind to fully elucidate upon the entire spectrum of cookies that exist in this world (or "terrestrial realm", as mr. sheen would put it).
that said, the one cookie that will always remain beautiful in my heart and mind is the chocolate chip cookie. it has everything delicious in this world: butter, sugar (two kinds!), salt, chocolate... and then you mess with deeply browned butter; all light brown sugar versus white and dark; milk chocolate chips vs. semi-sweet vs. 88%; coarse sea salt... my god.
and considering that the chocolate chip cookie is a cookie that is infinitely open to experimentation, they are almost impossible to screw up, and therefore stand as the litmus test of all bakeries, cafes and coffee shops. if you can't even get a chocolate chip cookie right, then why the hell am i going to trust your scrambled eggs or pork chops? i'd probably come out with worms AND head lice. (yes, your crappy pork chops would give me lice. because you failed at chocolate chip cookies)
i am still on the search, like so many in this world, for the chocolate chip cookie. luckily, or perhaps unluckily, as there are billions of palates in this world, there's millions of recipes. i have a folder in my bookmarks dedicated to nothing but chocolate chip cookie recipes. there are 17 recipes in it. most of them proclaim to be the "best" cookie ever, and extol its magnificence up and down, elaborating upon its crumb, and moistness, and chip-to-dough ratio.
what is my idea of the perfect chocolate chip cookie? well:
1. it has to be big. if you're going to eat a chocolate chip cookie, eat a chocolate chip cookie.
2. a high chocolate-to-dough ratio. notice i didn't say chip-to-dough; if you use those awesome chocolate discs instead of chips, then obviously you will have a higher ratio of chocolate but a lower ratio of chips. you will also have a high ratio of delicious.
3. soft. crisp is meringues and shortbread. hard is for biscotti. the perfect chocolate chip cookie must have a firm, chewy exterior, and a moist, almost gooey interior. and it must also have...
4. a good shelf life, meaning that it retains those texture variances for a few days, or as long as they last in the jar.
5. a good backbone. the dough has to have something to balance that chocolate. i recently tried my hand at browning butter for a cookie recipe, to develop those malty, caramel-y notes that people wax romantic over in food blogs. i unfortunately did it too well, and ended up with ghee. i used it anyway. they were ok. i also didn't use vanilla, having read earlier that day about a certain famous new york cookie shop that didn't use vanilla in their chocolate cookie recipes, and they have a cult-like following for their chocolate chip cookies.
again, they were ok.
so i have some baking to do, some practice to tuck under my belt--or gut, depending on how long it takes me to the get the recipe right and how many "failures" i'll have to taste test along the way. until then, here's a recipe that hasn't let me down yet, and is oh-so close to my perfection.
best big, fat, chewy chocolate chip cookies
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda (i added a full teaspoon last time i made them, and they had, in my opinion, a better fluffiness to them without being cake-y)
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup unsalted butter, melted (if you know how to properly brown butter, by all means, rock on)
1 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1 tablespoon vanilla extract (sorry fancy new york bakery with slews of fans, but there was a little something missing when i didn't use extract. and it was extract.)
1 egg
1 egg yolk
2 cups semisweet chocolate chips (i used 72% chocolate disks)
now, when i make chocolate chip cookies, a secret i've learned is to make your dough, then refrigerate it for at least eight hours, longer if possible. i think my minimum in the past has been twelve, i usually strive for twenty-four; and i've read tell of those who say anything less than 36 hours is just a waste of time. if you need your cookies NOW, however, preheat to 325F. and you should have parchment paper. parchment paper is the BEST.
sift together your flour, soda and salt. my method of sifting is to whisk it with a fork. set aside.
cream together your melted/browned butter and sugars until well blended. beat in vanilla, egg and egg yolk until light and creamy. mix in dry ingredients until just blended. stir in chips/disks.
drop dough by the QUARTER CUP (1/4 CUP) onto your prepped sheets. no, really, do it. don't look at your silverware drawer for a tablespoon, grab your quarter cup measuring cup and fill it with dough, and then put that dough on a sheet. you will like yourself more for it, i promise. the original recipe says to leave three inches between, but i found that between the refrigeration, the extremely melted butter, and the extra baking soda, they keep their form fairly well, so you can probably get away with less room.
bake about 15-17 minutes, but definitely check at the 15 minute mark. you want toasty edges and sorta-soggy centers. let them cool for a few minutes on the sheets, then move them to a rack to complete their cycle of coolness.
there was something i was going to add and now i can't remember, dammit. OH! yes. if you end up refrigerating your dough, leave it in the fridge until your oven is heated and you're ready to start shoveling dough onto your totally prepped sheets. the cooler the dough, the more likely it is to maintain its form. it has something to do with the fats in the butter and whatnot.
annnnnnnd enjoy.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
dear sir/madame: i love you.
long ago, i signed up for an account with onemodelplace.com. it had nothing to do with wanting to become a model (though, if by chance the world of fashion were suddenly turned upside down and short, chocolate-loving girls with dreads became the new trend, i wouldn't turn it down); rather, if you're into figure drawing and want a constantly updated source of women contorted into odd positions in extreme lighting with vapid looks on their faces, then haute couture shots are where you look.
so i signed up, a while ago. so long that i can't quite remember why i stopped looking at it. i think the layout pissed me off. anywho, i got an email from them today:
Dear H,
We love you and we miss you! :-) We'd love to have you back on OneModelPlace.com.
really? you love me and miss me? what do you miss the most, exactly? my stunning contribution to your online community via signing up and then immediately forgetting you exist? my original intentions of using your online portfolios for my own personal gain? please, tell me, i really want to know.
this was the first thing that jumped to mind upon reading that:
apparently, the future is now, and a random modeling website that i put about six minutes of my time into loves me. i'd love to go into more detail, but i have some errands to run today. perhaps while i'm out i'll stop by starbucks for my latte and a happy ending.
so i signed up, a while ago. so long that i can't quite remember why i stopped looking at it. i think the layout pissed me off. anywho, i got an email from them today:
Dear H,
We love you and we miss you! :-) We'd love to have you back on OneModelPlace.com.
really? you love me and miss me? what do you miss the most, exactly? my stunning contribution to your online community via signing up and then immediately forgetting you exist? my original intentions of using your online portfolios for my own personal gain? please, tell me, i really want to know.
this was the first thing that jumped to mind upon reading that:
apparently, the future is now, and a random modeling website that i put about six minutes of my time into loves me. i'd love to go into more detail, but i have some errands to run today. perhaps while i'm out i'll stop by starbucks for my latte and a happy ending.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
oh yes it's ladies night, and the feeling's wrong.
ok, body, let's have a talk.
you are twenty-eight years old. hear that? twenty. eight. not fifty-eight. not even forty-eight. twenty-eight. so please, explain to me why i don't have full useage of my left arm, or practically ANY useage of my right hip?
explain to me why, at twenty-eight, on a saturday night when my peers are out sloshing it up with their zimas and shimmying their hula hoops about to their dan fogelberg, i am in bed in pain?
ok, to be fair, body, even if i wasn't in pain, i probably wouldn't be out anywhere shimmying anything, but still, it's unfair of you to decide that, since i'm not doing anything BETTER with my time (at least in your opinion) i should just go ahead and hurt.
OH AND THERE GO THE CRAMPS. god, you are so PREDICTABLE, BODY! "pain? you call that pain? FOOL!" now of course the hip pain is, once again, radiating down to my shin. like i said, predictable.
when i talk about my various body pains, it isn't so much in self-pity as in self-disbelief. i really, honestly can't understand why, at a relatively young age, i am beset with the joint problems of a pentagenarian (way to be prejudice against 50 year olds, spell check, real classy). granted, i'm not in the BEST physical shape in the whole world of ever, but all my cell counts are normal, my fluids are flowing, and my blood pressure is almost negative. i'm not overweight, just soft. the only overeating i really do is at indian buffets and right now ("right now" being the holidays, which of course doesn't count, so forget i even mentioned it).
ok, yeah, i have fibromyalgia, but that's not a very good excuse. after all, my mother and sister didn't seem terribly bothered by their fibromyalgia until they got older than i am, so what gives?
unfortunately, my habit when confused and frustrated is to voice those confusions and frustrations. this leads people to believe that i am an attention whore, which is mostly untrue. i say "mostly" because, of course, who doesn't sometimes crave a little attention, and if that attention can be in the form of pity and sympathy, well, sign me up for some of that. some. however, even pity requires some kind of response from me, and as i hate the back and forth of someone who doesn't know how to respond to someone else, it just ends up making me feel awkward. i guess the ideal situation would be to scream about my shitty body at the top of my lungs, and for everyone around me to kind of look at me for a second, then go about their business.
so if you're out on the street and you happen to see a short chick with dreads yelling at the sky about why her leg hurts, don't worry, just keeping walking along.
you are twenty-eight years old. hear that? twenty. eight. not fifty-eight. not even forty-eight. twenty-eight. so please, explain to me why i don't have full useage of my left arm, or practically ANY useage of my right hip?
explain to me why, at twenty-eight, on a saturday night when my peers are out sloshing it up with their zimas and shimmying their hula hoops about to their dan fogelberg, i am in bed in pain?
ok, to be fair, body, even if i wasn't in pain, i probably wouldn't be out anywhere shimmying anything, but still, it's unfair of you to decide that, since i'm not doing anything BETTER with my time (at least in your opinion) i should just go ahead and hurt.
OH AND THERE GO THE CRAMPS. god, you are so PREDICTABLE, BODY! "pain? you call that pain? FOOL!" now of course the hip pain is, once again, radiating down to my shin. like i said, predictable.
when i talk about my various body pains, it isn't so much in self-pity as in self-disbelief. i really, honestly can't understand why, at a relatively young age, i am beset with the joint problems of a pentagenarian (way to be prejudice against 50 year olds, spell check, real classy). granted, i'm not in the BEST physical shape in the whole world of ever, but all my cell counts are normal, my fluids are flowing, and my blood pressure is almost negative. i'm not overweight, just soft. the only overeating i really do is at indian buffets and right now ("right now" being the holidays, which of course doesn't count, so forget i even mentioned it).
ok, yeah, i have fibromyalgia, but that's not a very good excuse. after all, my mother and sister didn't seem terribly bothered by their fibromyalgia until they got older than i am, so what gives?
unfortunately, my habit when confused and frustrated is to voice those confusions and frustrations. this leads people to believe that i am an attention whore, which is mostly untrue. i say "mostly" because, of course, who doesn't sometimes crave a little attention, and if that attention can be in the form of pity and sympathy, well, sign me up for some of that. some. however, even pity requires some kind of response from me, and as i hate the back and forth of someone who doesn't know how to respond to someone else, it just ends up making me feel awkward. i guess the ideal situation would be to scream about my shitty body at the top of my lungs, and for everyone around me to kind of look at me for a second, then go about their business.
so if you're out on the street and you happen to see a short chick with dreads yelling at the sky about why her leg hurts, don't worry, just keeping walking along.
Friday, December 3, 2010
the torture of christmas tree shopping: X-TREEM personification
yesterday, i beat my sister and b-i-l to big lots by a rather wide margin, and as a result, i had some time to burn. the situation was made more interesting by the fact that i had just left my therapist, where we'd discussed, among other things, my anxiety over time that isn't filled with purpose. the purpose doesn't have to be particularly purposeful, but it does have to be planned, something specific. so when i found myself with about half an hour between "therapist" and "spend my money on stuff that i'll decide really is needed", i got a chance to practice not being a fruitcake.
i wandered around beverly's fabrics and crafts for a bit, musing over wtf i was going to do about christmas presents this year. i played with the idea of buying paper mache boxes and doing... something to them, to make them cookie-holding-worthy. nothing says love like paper mache, right?
i went across the street to starbucks to procure my yearly cranberry bliss bar. the girl at the register really, really liked my hair, it seemed to just delight the hell out of her. cue another internal episode of "keep the dreadlocks because they seem to encourage positive attention, or accept that i'm kind of over it and keep walking around with hairy sausages on my head?"
i then went back across the street and into the christmas tree... area? stand? section? i'm not sure what to call it, and the knowledge that everyone knows what a section of parking lot fenced off and filled with trees looks like doesn't help me at all, this needs a name. and "lot" won't work, because then it's a lot inside a lot, and that's just ridiculous.
ANYWAY. into the christmas tree amorphia. something i've noticed this year is that all the trees seem really nice. green, shapely, fragrant--i've yet to come across a tree that wasn't pleasant to be around, and these trees were no different. i was initially drawn in by the short little fatties that were as big around as they were tall, and from there on drifted through huge towering nobles and the stereotypical 6' acute angles. these last ones were the problem, unfortunately. i'd touch a tree, run my fingers through its branches, and think, what a lovely tree.
and then i'd feel it.
the tree next to it. staring right at me. it had branches too. they were also covered in velvety soft needles. it was as tall, and its backside didn't have a space near the bottom like that one did.
and then, over here! look at me! see how my branches flare at the bottom! you are the only person capable of truly observing my tree-esque glory, and if you don't buy me, i will be hacked into logs and burned while i'm still alive.
THAT is what EVERY tree in that lot was saying. i was quickly and painfully made aware of my role as the tree messiah, and i couldn't just take one tree, because then what would happen to that tree? how could i just leave it there, in the cold? the sky darkening, the lights going out, it would just sit there, alone, crying spindly foliage and dreading its black future as a wreath. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME, WOULDN'T I PLEASE THINK OF THE TREES?!
i experienced a great despair as i thought of my tiny, pathetic bank account balance and how my house, while comfortable for two people, two cats and a lizard, would be a poor substitute for sprawling acreage and nightly mistings from coastal fogs. more pathetic than my bank account, however, was the fact that i was seriously entertaining the idea of buying every tree in a lot so they wouldn't be hurt.
i left, quickly. i went to big lots and returned my malfunctioning cat laser toy. and no, i did not think about what would happen to it when it was no longer in my sight.
i wandered around beverly's fabrics and crafts for a bit, musing over wtf i was going to do about christmas presents this year. i played with the idea of buying paper mache boxes and doing... something to them, to make them cookie-holding-worthy. nothing says love like paper mache, right?
i went across the street to starbucks to procure my yearly cranberry bliss bar. the girl at the register really, really liked my hair, it seemed to just delight the hell out of her. cue another internal episode of "keep the dreadlocks because they seem to encourage positive attention, or accept that i'm kind of over it and keep walking around with hairy sausages on my head?"
i then went back across the street and into the christmas tree... area? stand? section? i'm not sure what to call it, and the knowledge that everyone knows what a section of parking lot fenced off and filled with trees looks like doesn't help me at all, this needs a name. and "lot" won't work, because then it's a lot inside a lot, and that's just ridiculous.
ANYWAY. into the christmas tree amorphia. something i've noticed this year is that all the trees seem really nice. green, shapely, fragrant--i've yet to come across a tree that wasn't pleasant to be around, and these trees were no different. i was initially drawn in by the short little fatties that were as big around as they were tall, and from there on drifted through huge towering nobles and the stereotypical 6' acute angles. these last ones were the problem, unfortunately. i'd touch a tree, run my fingers through its branches, and think, what a lovely tree.
and then i'd feel it.
the tree next to it. staring right at me. it had branches too. they were also covered in velvety soft needles. it was as tall, and its backside didn't have a space near the bottom like that one did.
and then, over here! look at me! see how my branches flare at the bottom! you are the only person capable of truly observing my tree-esque glory, and if you don't buy me, i will be hacked into logs and burned while i'm still alive.
THAT is what EVERY tree in that lot was saying. i was quickly and painfully made aware of my role as the tree messiah, and i couldn't just take one tree, because then what would happen to that tree? how could i just leave it there, in the cold? the sky darkening, the lights going out, it would just sit there, alone, crying spindly foliage and dreading its black future as a wreath. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME, WOULDN'T I PLEASE THINK OF THE TREES?!
i experienced a great despair as i thought of my tiny, pathetic bank account balance and how my house, while comfortable for two people, two cats and a lizard, would be a poor substitute for sprawling acreage and nightly mistings from coastal fogs. more pathetic than my bank account, however, was the fact that i was seriously entertaining the idea of buying every tree in a lot so they wouldn't be hurt.
i left, quickly. i went to big lots and returned my malfunctioning cat laser toy. and no, i did not think about what would happen to it when it was no longer in my sight.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
viva la "lots and lots and lots of words with no end"
it has come to my attention that i write very easily when i don't worry about little things like run-on sentences. when i just allow a thought to ramble on endlessly, everything just kind of flows on its own.
case in point, a recent email to a friend:
"i bought the taste of home holiday magazine because i'm weak-willed and i saw the most adorable idea in it ever and immediately knew that if i didn't buy the magazine i'd forget it and cry the rest of the season, even though i haven't forgotten it at all and i probably could've saved the ten dollars, but dammit, it was so damn cute. they're these little dove-shaped cookies, but what makes them so cute is you layer sliced almonds on them, so they look like feathers. i know, right? there was also a recipe for sugar cookies using cream cheese that i wanted to try, thinking that the cream cheese would bulk them up and make them not so delicate so maybe half of these year's batch wouldn't come out on fire. also, i have parchment paper."
that paragraph is constructed from a mere five sentences. and two of those sentences make up about 70% of the information given. long sentences are FUN. who decided that people shouldn't be able to just write long, meandering, winding lines of text? who decided that my desire to write two pages to someone without a single period was bad form? show me that person, and i'll show you someone about to get punched in the face. with words.
sometimes i think grammar and punctuation rules were invented merely to make writing more intimidating and difficult than it needs to be, to keep the "masses" in check. if word got out that anyone could be brilliant, then what would all the self-proclaimed brilliant people do? cry into their crumpets and silk scarves, that's what they'd do.*
well, ladies and gentlemen and dicks and hos, i am here to tell you, right now, from a completely uninformed standpoint, that YOU DO NOT HAVE TO TAKE IT ANYMORE. jump up out of your seat! thrust your fist in the air! then immediately sit back down and thrust both fists at your keyboard and TYPE WORDS ENDLESSLY.
*all brilliant people wear silk scarves and eat crumpets. this is science.
case in point, a recent email to a friend:
"i bought the taste of home holiday magazine because i'm weak-willed and i saw the most adorable idea in it ever and immediately knew that if i didn't buy the magazine i'd forget it and cry the rest of the season, even though i haven't forgotten it at all and i probably could've saved the ten dollars, but dammit, it was so damn cute. they're these little dove-shaped cookies, but what makes them so cute is you layer sliced almonds on them, so they look like feathers. i know, right? there was also a recipe for sugar cookies using cream cheese that i wanted to try, thinking that the cream cheese would bulk them up and make them not so delicate so maybe half of these year's batch wouldn't come out on fire. also, i have parchment paper."
that paragraph is constructed from a mere five sentences. and two of those sentences make up about 70% of the information given. long sentences are FUN. who decided that people shouldn't be able to just write long, meandering, winding lines of text? who decided that my desire to write two pages to someone without a single period was bad form? show me that person, and i'll show you someone about to get punched in the face. with words.
sometimes i think grammar and punctuation rules were invented merely to make writing more intimidating and difficult than it needs to be, to keep the "masses" in check. if word got out that anyone could be brilliant, then what would all the self-proclaimed brilliant people do? cry into their crumpets and silk scarves, that's what they'd do.*
well, ladies and gentlemen and dicks and hos, i am here to tell you, right now, from a completely uninformed standpoint, that YOU DO NOT HAVE TO TAKE IT ANYMORE. jump up out of your seat! thrust your fist in the air! then immediately sit back down and thrust both fists at your keyboard and TYPE WORDS ENDLESSLY.
*all brilliant people wear silk scarves and eat crumpets. this is science.
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