awww x infinity

Ain't this the cutest damn thing?

Found at Cup of Jo (I swear her blog is veritable treasure chest of goodies!) -- click on through to read more. Happy Thursday!

Ten Second Tidy

How cool are these!

Read about Ursus Werhli's The Art of Cleanup here: http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2013/03/28/the-art-of-cleanup-ursus-wehrli/

While you're at it, you should also check out Amy's Poehler's Smart Girls (which is where I came across the above). I've known about this project of Ms. Poehler's for a while, but only recently Liked (capital L because this is serious business) it on FB (capital letters because OK I'm done here). These folks are constantly sharing great stuff! Have fun!

Home is where the sweatpants are

Sometimes the best part of the day is getting home.

Even (especially?) if it means facing a mountain of chores, weighing your options, and promptly collapsing on the sofa. But not before putting on your lazy pants -- mine are a ratty pair of Marianopolis sweats -- and scraping your hair into a nest-like bun atop your head. It's a sexy look, y'all. Try it out for your lovah tonight.

Photo: Sofia Coppola by Véronique Vial via film-instant. Thanks!

O Happy Day!

Just a quick note tonight. I'm exhausted, wine has been poured, Tania's on the way over -- we're looking at a pretty small blogging window. That being said, I must point out the massively good thing about today.

Had an appointment with a new MD... and she was awesome. As in: patient, intelligent, seemingly happy to walk you through your results, listens to your questions and explores the answer with you. And nice! She was nice! Not to complain, but it's been a while since I've felt comfort or kindness from a health professional. Honestly, I might just send her a thank-you card. OK I'll quit gushing now.

While the experience in itself was pleasant, the larger lesson continues to resonate. Listening, paying attention, being kind -- these things deeply matter when you engage with others. You are invested in the other. The way I see it, doing that makes you a stronger person, just as it makes the people around you feel valued. Something to keep in mind, especially on those tired/frustrated/blah days when you really only want to phone in your relationships. Don't. Don't, and you'll be better for it.

Sometimes you get a mixed bag

T'was a long day. Despite its teeth-grindingly ARGH! moments, there were many a highlight!

#1. Had an early start, thanks to a pre-work Tim Horton's breakfast date. If anyone's wondering, bacon Tim Matin sandwiches fully justify waking up thirty minutes early.

#2. Then! I was unbelievably productive at work. Like, dealing-with-samples-that-have-lived-on-my-desk-for-weeks productive. Can only assume my body ain't used to caffeine before 9AM (rumor has it, I'm prone to serious lazy bones that early in the morning), because the in-transit Timmy Hoe coffee turned me into a veritable task master of borderline-recreational-Ritalin-user proportions. Happy belly + checking off To Do Lists = cha-ching!

#3. Made my own tzatsiki tonight! Since this is the internet & you can't see me & I can faux-brag about how long I'd research the perfect recipe, I'll just err on the side of honesty because why the fuck not? Basically, I Googled "good tzatsiki" or something to that effect, and this easy peasy Martha Stewart-approved recipe arrived. Score!

This is when I should interject to divulge THE MASTER PLAN: Make souvlaki. With beef and feta and the expensive squishy pitas.

However. Something... happened... when I was at the grocery store.

Ya that's right, I still haven't put away BJ3. I should be neat/tidy/etc, but the bookshelf is just so faaaar (i.e. seven steps) away.

 #4. White wine! My old friend! Thankfully, I'm au courant to the wicked ways of this delightful buddy, & made sure to (a) finish making tzasiki and (b) stow it away to chill in the fridge. Now, sipping away at a glass, I find myself couch-bound (mmm), eating leftover Rockets (mmmmm), and down the black hole that is Youtube. Specificially: Youtubing movie trailers.

(Notice how I verb-ed not one but two websites! Googled, Youtubed, who the hell am I? Is this how people are supposed to speak?)

(Lemme check.)

(OK it appears that Google is in the dictionary but Youtube isn't. Who knew!)

Right. Get off couch. Get in kitchen. I'm on it! (In ten more minutes.) Before I cut loose, why don't I share the niftiest trailer from my recent e-adventures.

Let's call that #5. Pretty neat, huh? :)

First photo courtesy of this kick ass Esquire photo shoot. Other photos c/o StefaniPhone.

Culinary Adventures! (Or: Reasons Why I Smell Like Butter)

Long time no see, huh! Full disclosure: I haven't been in fighting shape these past few days/weeks. Don't mean to be neglect this place and whatnot -- it's just so darn hard to focus when your body may or may not be killing you from the inside out. 

Anyway! Here I am, here we are, let's dive right into the fun. Allow me to boast a photo. This photo:

You, my friend, are looking at mofo-ing homemade butternut squash mac n' cheese! With a breadcrumb crust. And crispy sage. (An herb with which I'd never had contact until last night.) (It smells like a spa.)

The kicker? I made this! Me? Her? What? YES!

Allow me to momentarily backtrack. In an effort to discover my inner domestic goddess and/or prove I can follow simple recipes and/or ensure I learn some basic fucking cooking skills so I won't starve to death if ever Chez Claudette went out of business... um... for a combination of these reasons, I've been (ever so gently) pushing myself to get the gas oven blazing and whip up some grub. Until now, I've made tacos (outcome: good) and fettucine alfredo (outcome: depressing). 

Then, yesterday afternoon, this doozy of a recipe from Blue Apron snuck into my inbox. Did I stand a chance against all those images of ooey gooey cheesy goodness? And pasta, no less? Of course not. PLUS, considering my batting average in the kitchen from last week, I figured there was only a 50/50 chance I'd mess the recipe up. Sold!

I could go into details about the actual process of putting together this shebang of a dish, but frankly, I don't have the patience. But I can tell you this:

• Post-work, on-the-walk-home grocery shopping is fun! Until your cart gets full and you realize you'll have the schlep all that crap home by yourself (not so fun).
• Cooking has a lot of steps. And requires focus & multitasking. Meaning you shouldn't be watching Modern Family reruns while cooking squash in one pot & frying sage leaves in another because you will probably burn the butter -- which the recipe specifically warns you against.
• You will smell like butter always.

Fast-forward to the end result: Delicious! (Even J-Dog will vouch for me.) But, if I'm being honest, there's an altogether different reason I was compelled to share this story -- one that has less to do with being some kinda chef, and more to do with setting a (small) goal for yourself, making a quasi-careful plan of attack, and then carrying it out. For a champion procrastinator like myself, this is a big deal. It's embarrassing to admit that I don't often find myself at the finish line of many tough (for me) projects -- at least, not as often as I'd like to be. Maybe it's an age thing, or a post-grad/working full-time thing, but it can be all too easy to make excuses for not pushing yourself, or trying your hand at something new, or shutting off Netflix and getting your butt outside.

OK. Bear with me. I'm almost done speaking my preachy peace.

Lately, I have made it a mission of sorts to prepare dinner -- not just the old standbys, but something new -- at least once a week. While cooking itself is by no means instinctual for me (read: I fucking loathe doing it), I find myself truly enjoying this new ritual. Pick a recipe. Plot the ingredients. Stop at grocery store on way home from work. (Don't only buy rice pudding.) Get home & make some food, step-by-step. Set the table. EAT (and DRINK if you're lucky)!

On-The-Bus Book Club: Brigdet Jones III

 

Avid reader (or "reading asshole" to some) (Hyein I'm looking at you) that I am, my purse is often always host to reading material of some variety. A book is normally clanking around in there (shoulder-centric Bursitis be damned!), kept handy for long ass stretches of public transpo.

Last week, I picked up a copy of Bright Jones: Mad About the Boy. (OK, so the actual acquisition of said book was less a casual & nonchalant task, and more like a wild thing storming through the Chapters doors to hunt down its prey. Yeah... I was excited.)

I first read Bridget Jones' Diary when I was 14-15 years old, and retain fond memories of reading it in public, trying not to laugh out loud -- consequently looking like lunatic/deranged type who has a weird muffled laugh and shifty eyes because she keeps making sure others aren't watching.

Considering I'm also terrifically/terrifyingly nostalgic, you can understand why I was stoked to revisit my literary (some would just say imaginary) buddies. The story itself didn't disappoint. (There was some lol-ing on the metro, won't lie.) But more importantly, I was consumed by that once-in-a-while feeling of craving some spare time to read. Because the book was darn fun and delving into it made me feel plain ol' good. I love when a story (visual, textual, musical, what have you) packs that kind of one-two punch. It's a feeling worth taking a minute -- or a bloggy blurb -- to mull over.

Now go read the new BJ. It might make you cry if you're that kinda person. (Guilty.) Mostly, you might relate to Bridget's fastidious calorie-counting (that comes crashing down in a haze of Starbucks & shredded cheese), confusion re: social media decorum, and the plentitude of ups/downs/embarrassing shizz that the universe throws your way. I certainly did. Enjoy! :)