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blip: try new foods

   Yes.  I’m a mom.  And among our many mantras such as “settle down”, “wear clean underwear”, and “say thank you to the nice man” we have a wealth of commands and proverbs that pertain to the eating of foods.  “Clean your plate”.  “Children are starving in Africa”.  “Eat your vegetables”.  “Take at least one bite”.  Amazingly, this wisdom often falls upon deaf and stubborn ears. They will not heed the mom speak.  They mentally block it out. And we keep babbling on until our magnificent edicts degrade to no more than nonsensical naggery.

I don’t want that to happen with this post.  Please don’t delete my meaning even though you’ve mastered the art of not listening to mothers raving about eating.  Can you read these words without the ghost of some overly anxious family matron materializing on your shoulder with finger wagging and eye brows scrunching pushing an extra helping of sweet potatoes in your face?  I know you can try.  Hear me now: You need to try new foods.

It’s so easy to get in a food rut.  We mindlessly stuff our gobs with whatever is convenient. We lose the joy of eating.  Our palettes dull, meals become just one more motion to go through over the course of a mechanical and uninteresting existence.  We think we know what we like.  What we like makes us who we are.  But how can we fully refine the notion of who we are if we stop trying new things and expanding our repertoire of experiences and enjoyances. (oooo I just birthed a new word.)

Trying new foods is one of the easiest ways to add that spirit of adventure back into a life that has gone bland.  We have to eat.  We don’t have to be boring with our food.  Spice up your life by mixing it up. Activate your taste buds. surprise your mouth. Flavors on the tongue inspire a desire to venture off and be more daring in other areas as well.  All of a sudden you went from the pits of blaaaaaaaaaaaa to becoming once again a fascinating person.  This is your life, make it interesting.

Your mother will be so proud of that.  And so will I.  And I’m taking my own advice, I’ll have you know. I’m not just cyber blabbering bossy sentiments in your general direction.  See that image of what appears to be electric pink celery? Yeah, that’s rhubarb.  A new food for me.  An ingredient I don’t really understand and want to enjoy on my own terms.  I plan to make some freezer jam with it to put on my fresh bread.  And I’m gonna use it on BBQ pulled pork.  Fascinating.  Here are the links. and

Get off your food duff and eat something interesting today.


tip: bake some bread


Ah, the lost art of bread baking. It’s a chore I was very strictly in the habit of accomplishing a few years ago, but I began to let it drift away from my to-do list and it has become obsolete in this household. Until tonight.

I mean, what’s the big deal, right? Store bought bread tastes just fine. I’m trying to eat less carbs anyway. Who needs all that stress about yeast proofing, dough rising, dishes and crumbs and grubby little vultures watching the timer ready to scarf down the precious loaves hot out of the oven. Why do we need this anachronism? Why should I devote time to milling flour, measuring ingredients, mixing, sponging, rising, baking, cooling when a scant 99 cents buys me bread minus all of this life interruption?

Well, tonight I remembered why. It isn’t interrupting my life. It is my actual life, pain in the ass and everything though it is. And it really isn’t that much hands on work when you own all the right equipment like I do. Washing the dishes is the most time intensive part. I can bake my 5 loaf basic honey wheat recipe with my eyes closed, it’s second nature. I can feel the water temp on the inside of my wrist and know if it will activate the yeast. I can see the fibers of the dough and tell when to stop kneading. I can smell the exact moment when the bread is done without looking at a timer. I know how to do this! And yet I haven’t done it in almost an entire year.

It’s important to me. The way my husband treats me like I’m some kind of witch doctor for being able to produce the staple of life. The way it makes the house smell amazing for hours and hours. The way my modern kitchen becomes more like an old fashioned hearth. A hub. Baking bread makes this more like a home. It helps me keep my hands firmly involved in the way I want my life to be, who I want me to be. I don’t want to be mass produced, preservative laden, and closed with a twisty tie. I want to be fresh. authentic. original. life giving. Just like the home milled, home made bread that I bake. I believe in the power and magic and strength of the concept of “Home”. Thank you my beautiful loaves for reminding me of this.


tip: don’t blog in bed

I’m desperate to maintain my “nablopomo” writing streak. I have had all day to come up with something charming to offer the world, some gem of insight, something new, shiny, and useful. Somehow I managed not to blog until these, my foggy final waking moments of the day. I have nothing to say. I have nothing to say.

Except for this: don’t wait to do your thing until you “have time” on a busy day. It won’t happen. Having time is a myth, nobody has it. You make time by having priorities. This sounds like something you could have learned on Leave it to Beaver, but you had to read it here in the twilight of my public blog about nothing shame. I will do better tomorrow. I will not blog bleary eyed and smeary thumbed on my smart phone in a half stupor. I will make a better choice. Tomorrow is another day.



blip: bye bye ms. american pie

Waiting around for election results is the perfect time to rant about the fallen nature of America. So many hearts are bursting with patriotism, yet my heart is mourning the death of America, the idea. How many ways in 200 something years have we violated the ideal? Compromise. Comfort. Committing all real citizenry to “professional” politicians. We are not for the people or by the people anymore. It’s a game, big business, a sad and cliche spectacle: come witness the mockery. A once free flying and majestic eagle is now an annoying macaw doing parlor tricks for the crackers of special interest. Here we are now: entertain us! Give us food, give us medicine, give us a show and we will in turn give over all ethics and control, all personal responsibility, all accountability, all adherence to universal standards of right. Give us bread and circuses, and we will give away our right to judge whether government is serving the people. We are Rome. And we are crashing down.

So bye bye ms. American pie. Drove my Chevy to the levy but the levy was dry. The good old boys are drinking whiskey in leather chairs in a back room somewhere: the power elite. They don’t represent you. And they don’t give a fuck about me. They care about themselves. I suggest that we care about each other because we will soon find ourselves at the mercy of a morally bankrupt rule in a nation so evenly and bitterly divided that civil war and riotous unrest await. Intrigue and bloodshed await. Riots. Wars. Suffering. Want to know our future? Read. Roman. History.



tip: stir. fry. soup.”>

First time blogging on a smart phone: let’s keep it short and sweet. You love stir fry. You love soup. Now you can love them both at once. This link is a great skeleton of a recipe- use the basic proportions as a guide and then spring off your version of it like the kitchen ninjas I know you are. Mine had coconut milk, edamame, and broccoli slaw added to the mix.


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