You guys, it happened. Someone said the magic words, "You are a good cook."
A few years ago when I set out to overcome my severe domestic disability, I knew I needed a way to define my goal. Cooking talent is somewhat subjective — either people like your food or they don't. So, I decided that when someone told me I was a good cook by saying the exact phrase "you are a good cook," I'd call it win. My sister Lirbs said it to me last weekend. Boom shakalaka! And I used to burn water.
It feels pretty good to cross something off my list. I am walking proof that anyone can cook. For reals, y'all.
Holy smokes. It's Friday? Really? I was up until 2:00 AM last night because I am
stupid up to my bloodshot eyeballs in class work for my songwriting class, music production class, iPhone photography class, and stand-up comedy class. They say your IQ drops 8–10 points during pregnancy. I'd really like those points back now.
I have no idea what happened in the world this week. But I did get some fun stuff in the mail.
- How to Be a Woman by Caitlin Moran
- The Bedwetter: Stories of Courage, Redemption, and Pee by Sarah Silverman
- Tracy Chapman's New Beginning songbook for piano/vocal/guitar (It's so 90s. I love it so much.)
- A case for my ukulele
- Kiehl's Creme with Silk Groom
- Totally delish baby food
- Two vintage-style gold sparkle motorcycle helmets — one with goggles
And I'm spent. Have a good weekend. And please, sleep some for me. Love you long time.
I know they're my spawns, but the cuteness factor is way high in this photo, right? Scarlett dragged Leo (literally) into her play house for a tea party. She was the perfect host, obviously. She tea parties hard.
… too hard.
Scarlett: Mom, look! Barbie is ready to pump.
Me: Oh. I see that. (Pause.) Did you help her get ready?
Scarlett: Yeah, I helped her with her boobs. Mom, Barbie is ready to pump her breastmilk now. Go get her pump.
Me: Well, Babe, I don't think Barbie has a pump. Or a baby.
Scarlett: Why not?
Me: Because — and all I could think of was — Ken comes in a different box.
Who am I?
Guess what I'm doing this weekend? That's right! I'm taking a stand-up comedy class with my dad. I know — it's inherently funny. We're such comedy gunners. Obviously. I'll tell all y'all about it next week. In the meantime … Read more…
Once upon a time, the only thing that I could make and make well was toast. I ate a lot of toast. Maybe for every meal. (My last name means "bread baker" in German, so it's genetically possible that I can't help myself.) But woman cannot live by bread alone if she wants to maintain a healthy body weight or fit into her pants, so I was forced to expand my repertoire. Really though, all I ever want to eat is toast.
I especially love fancy toast because serving it to your friends and family makes you look like you've got mad kitchen skillz even if you don't. This is literally the easiest recipe in the world, but it looks like some serious gourmet sh*t. You're welcome. Read more…
Pop quiz time! Which of the following best describes you:
a.) I'm tired all of the time — mostly from insomnia, but I'm still tired even after I sleep for infinity hours.
b.) My brain is fuzzy because I have a chronic dull headache.
c.) Sometimes when I stand up, I get dizzy and my pelvis feels like it's going to fall out.
d.) My heart starts racing for no reason.
e.) The inside of my eyelids are totally white, and I have giant dark circles under my eyes.
f.) All of the above.