An inevitable food related turn

I'm developing a hateful relationship with dried spices. Sure, I've spent years honing my dried spice collection in my thrift-store wall rack. I've traveled to Penzey's Spices in Connecticut and another in Asheville. I've bought low-quality, high quality and questionable quality dried spices. But now that I've finally grown a few of my own herbs, it's hard to imagine a good homemade meal without fresh herbs. Why did I buy pesto all these years when I can easily make it (though it's just as expensive to make yourself if you use pine nuts)? And it's no wonder I spent years hating dill when I was never using fresh dill. And dried cilantro--I can't even talk about how gross that is. Freshness in herbs makes a difference in your cooking like using fresh butter; it's essential, and when you are using few ingredients you must splurge for the better quality. I know I'm sounding really food condescending right now, but basil, rosemary, cilantro, oregano, mint leaves, and dill (all easy to grow in spring-summer) just have to be fresh. it's decided. That isn't to say that a few dried spices come in handy every once in a while. Mace, for instance. Or celery seed. If you read this blog, despite my inconsistent updating, and you are on the verge of cooking a magnificent meal, please for your own happiness get some fresh herbs when you refill your grocery to-do list.

"I just don't know how anybody could enjoy anything," he says, "more than I enjoy... you know, getting up in the morning and having the cup of cold coffee that's been waiting for me all night, that's still there for me to drink in the morning, and no cockroach or fly has died in it overnight - I'm just so thrilled when I get up, and I see that coffee there, just the way I want it, I just can't imagine enjoying something else any more than that."

Cat Workouts

Click on the C for cat. Cat work out! If you have two cats like me, and you hate to exercise, use your cat.

You know you want it.

Dear all at Creative Circus--

http://www.lifeclever.com/a-coffee-mug-for-helvetica-lovers/

--now we can even drink type in the mornings too.

This sounds seriously fun, in a southern family kind of way that relaxes you. If only we were all un-busy enough. Not to mention the great invitation design.

http://www.cottage-industrialist.com/blog/2010/7/11/a-canning-party-free-printables-from-paper-crave.html

Self-Silouehette Portrait

I like black cats.

Frida is me, minus a lot of tragedy and minus the gift of painting.

Still life soap.

Even though I'm a vegetarian, I made this still life parsley steak--

That is to say, parsley steak [soap]. Appetizing almost.

Can you see me?

This is me--mixed with a little color, a little Andy Warhol, and a little bit of architecture.

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A Vague Map of my brain's beginnings

Every kid of my decade that had Cartoon Network remembers a certain blue-hued cartoon. Smurfs. When I was four years old, Smurfette held a lot of promises to a young girl. She was in high-demand, and she was different, gender obscurities aside. An older version of me might see several problems with Smurfette—originally evil, a seductress, a stereotype of batting eyelashes. But my childhood self ignored these things, and saw only high-powerism. She had infiltrated the boys' club. Though I didn’t stop watching Smurfs for uh, several more years, my inspirations and admirations changed easily and often.

Just last week for instance, John said to me, “Remember that time you were really into objectivism and you were so annoying?”
… "No.”
“When you had a different life philosophy every week?”
… "Did I do that once?”
“You were really annoying."
Once, philosophy actually meant something to me. Before college. Before I was eighteen. Before intellectualism got old.

It probably doesn’t take too long to notice that in addition to having a dormant knowledge of philosophy, I can be incredibly anti-social. Even using first person narrative on this blog right now makes me feel too socially involved. I’m not sure if I’ve always been this way, or if it was the fault of toads and turtles. When I started middle school, I had just switched school zones and didn’t know anyone. Anyone. Except the lunch lady, but even her I never saw because I brought my own lunch. I didn’t really have a need for friends though, because I had my [escapist] toads and turtles at home. At the time I loved them, and they were interesting enough to keep me entertained all through middle school. Pom-pom the turtle was best friend number one, and Periwinkle the toad was best friend number two.

Recently, I had a Harry Potter themed party. From fourth grade to post-college, I can still remember spells and neologisms. Hermione is badass. Who doesn't wish they were so inherently smart?

Something that never fails to get me excited: baking. I love, I adore, I dream about baking. This discovery started before I had ever heard of Cake Boss. It happened between ramen noodles and the discovery of how many ways one could use a dorm’s community oven. In fact, you should ask me to make you a cake. Or, check out my food blog: whatyouknead@wordpress.com

***Disclaimer asking for cake only relevant if I like you as a human