Tag Archives: podcasts

Siren Songs and BLTs

Can we talk siren songs for a minute?

A siren song can be just about anything that you shouldn’t do that calls to you. Hard.

I hear them, like, everyday. I have for my whole life.

When I was three, four and five my siren songs were super dicey. Mostly because, at those carefree ages, I always went with my impulses.

Siren song: Play with the shiny big ‘toy’ cars racing through busy intersections.

Result: Dislocated shoulder.*

Siren song: Touch every open flame around.

Result: … I touched a bunch of fires. Ouch?

Siren song: Stand and rock on a chair with inexplicably sharp edges.

Result: Chin chok-a-block full of stitches.

Siren song: Stand on a wheely chair while leaning out our second story window.

Result: I couldn’t go to story time.

That was the worst.** Also, one of the only punishments that wasn’t just a short time-out. I got away with so much.

My siren songs have changed a bit over the years.

Siren song: Buy every issue of Locke & Key.

Result: Poorness.

… But read this if you haven’t. It’s incredimazeballs.

Siren song: Put bourbon in everything.

Result:

 Bourbon spiked Arnold Palmers.

Siren songs I hold off on:

Putting my hand in the running garbage disposal.

Walking into the giant ovens at my baking school.

Jamming the spokes of other people’s bikes.***

Shouting in theaters during live productions.****

Eating bacon every day… I don’t hold off on this one voluntarilly, I just can’t afford that much bacon.

I ate a friend’s bacon today… that sounded… not ideal.

#No shame

A couple weeks ago I made myself a BLT that I’m still salivating over.

 Sorry, the picture’s a bit fuzzy but I took it on my phone with the low-blood-sugar/why-isn’t-that-in-my-face-yet shakes.

It’s a loaded Spring BLT. Like a salad in bread and full of bacon. So, it’s exactly how I like all my salads.

In case you want to eat this beautiful monster…

Thinly slice a small red onion and a handful of radishes.

In a bowl, pour enough red wine vinegar over the sliced onion and radishes to completely cover them.

(Later, you’ll want to save the un-absorbed oniony vinegar for dressings!)

Add a couple pinches of salt and dried dill.

Let it sit and get pickly while you get to the good stuff.

Fry several pieces of bacon, pat off excess fat and set aside.

Drain most of the grease from your pan and sautee a handful of trimmed, rinsed asparagus on high heat for a couple of minutes, until they’ve got some color on them but are still a bit crisp.

Rinse and dry something like lettuce (I used red leaf and spinach. This really was a salad. I’m bonkers, I’ve accepted it).

Slice a tomato and some Dubliner.

Toast a couple slices of sourdough and mix together a couple tsps of whatever mustard you have around with a couple tbsps of greek yogurt (I was out of mayo. This actually worked pretty well. Shocking stuff) and some black pepper.

Assemble and destroy.

You look like you could use a good sandwich.

Treat yo self.

A little quick real life talk? My days have been chaotic, I’ve been sick or fighting something off for weeks and am just now feeling like myself again. I’m gonna work on building up this weak immune system of mine while working my tail off in this baking program and looking for paying work. I don’t know how much time I’ll have for this blogging business. I’m gonna try to post more, but I can’t promise anything regular. I’m gonna shoot for a post every other week, for now.

And now, a request: TELL ME YOUR SIREN SONG.

Too intense?

Well, guys, I really wanna know.

Throw a girl a bone, will ya?

*Or elbow. Probably elbow. But who can keep track of their own medical history? Squares is who!

**I love you mom. I’m obviously only alive ’cause you made the tough decisions. But I’ll probably never get over this.

Also, Everyone, tell me a story. It’ll be awesome. For me.

***My siren songs would be dicks. Obvi.

****As someone who’s done some little bits of theater and has many friends who are actively pursuing a life in that industry, this is the one that feels the worst to me. But the urge is never not there. I figure when I’m older, I’ll snap and be the worst audience member ever. Like a living version of Thespis, but less creative.

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Filed under 'Cause I'm A Kid, Bacon, Bourbon, Drinks, Green, Sandwiches, Spring

A Mulligan

On Friday, I went out and stayed out. I was gonna celebrate because I got into a baking program for the summer* and since celebrating indoors seemed lame, I ended up with grass marks so deep and stubborn I’m surprised they’re not still pressed into my legs.

I shoved joy into my day by riding my bike all over town,

 eating good food,

listening to a podcast I can’t stop loving, reading and nearly falling asleep at a park… but only because the sun and that sneaky breeze were so on it.

Then a mother freaking turkey flew out of a tree and charged at me.

I’m still recovering.

Did you guys know that turkeys are

a) Unsettling. Like, a lot.

b) Able to fly. Who sanctioned that? Why?!**

And did you guys know that I

a) Feel very close to Tippi Hedren… despite having hair that actually moves… and that, I, as a result of that closeness, have sympathetic bird based PTSD.

b) Will now go to delis and order turkey sandwiches and eat them spitefully… and hope that turkeys don’t have that wasp thing going on.

So given the whole turkey situation and the fact that I was, in fact, forcing the joy aspect of my day, led me to pull a mulligan. I groundhog-ed that bidness.

My do-over involved even more biking (I hurt, let’s not talk about it),

multiple parks,

Grace-facing with a funny lady, more pizza, another super beautiful podcast, swings and three different grocery stores.

… But this is all from Safeway. They had a sale on sexy shame-makers.

Then, because it turns out my day needed a cherry, I got a job offer.

Not a big job.***

It’s a super temp gig, actually.

At a summer camp.****

For witches.

Stop laughing.

It’s gonna be magical.

I probably won’t be sacrificed.*****

The point is, my mulligan went super well.

The baking program is gonna teach me how to mass produce and then the summer camp will allow me to practice that shiny new skill with my own recipes.

What?!

Yeah.

Creative freedom.

For kids.

But still.

That’ll be nice.

Any ideas for what I should make?

If you’re reading this, odds are good you’ve eaten a dessert I’ve crapped out (hi friends!) (I’m actually waving right now)-  is there anything I’ve made you that you still want to eat?

Tell me!

But now I need to stop looking to the future and get real: my mulligan was on Cinco de Mayo/free comic book day.

I missed all of the free comics. It was a busy day.

But that’s ok, I went to a sale last week and got some great stuff.

… I skipped Battle Pope… apparently “when he’s not leadin’ mass, he’s out kickin’ ass!”

I am a ball of regret.

But I cooked delicious food for Cinco de Mayo so my regret has been buried in beans.

And pico de gallo.

Make some!

Start by chopping 1/2 medium red onion

add onion to a bowl with about 2 tbsps lime juice and a pinch of salt, to start to mellow out it’s aggressive onionyness.

Mince 1 pepper (I like serranos for their sharper, cleaner heat but I used jalepenos for years and was totally into them, so use whatever’s easier for you to find/eat) (also, if you want your salsa to be on the milder side you should know that I might make fun of you but we can totally still be friends… and that you should get rid of the seeds and paler stuff inside the pepper before you mince it, as that’s where most of the heat comes from)

chop a handful of cilantro

and chop a couple of roma tomatoes too

Combine it all and eat immediately or let it sit around for a bit, covered and let the flavor get awesome-er… just don’t wait too long or the tomatoes will turn into sad sacks, texture-wise… or, more likely, someone else will see it and eat all of it while you’re off running errands, like a dope.

But seriously, at the two day mark those tomatoes feel like depression took corporeal form in your mouth. Don’t go there.

(Yes, ‘corporeal’ just happened and yes, I watched Buffy during a time when my brain still absorbed new information. What of it.)

Not the best sell, I know, but just eat it when it’s fresh and it’ll be like joy took corporeal form in your mouth and then had a sexy party in your throat.

Is that not better?

Well… make it. And then tell me how I should have pitched it to you.

It’s a rough recipe but it’s incredibly easy to adjust to your own tastes and homemade salsa is kinda the best, so try it.

  While you’re at it, you should doctor up some refried beans, throw on a pot of homemade spanish rice (I’ll get to that in another post, don’t you worry), quarter some radishes, fry some bacon and corn and get me a beer. All this typing’s made me thirsty.

And sleepy.

Bye, Internet!

(Yes, I’m waving again.)

(I’m gonna sleep so hard, guys.)

*What was I thinking? I’m gonna be stupid hot and crabby as hell.

**And why did it never occur to me that this winged animal might be able to do that? Jeez, self. Get on it.

***But seriously, thank god. I was hours away from changing this blog’s deal from food and job hunting to food and… well, me complaining about being sick while drinking beer. Know thyself.

****Between the turkey thing and the summer camp job I think the world is telling me to reread this…

 Not a hard sell. This book is seriously well written and the author doesn’t try to make herself look good which is a rare, wonderful and brave thing. I stopped reading it for several months when I was three chapters away from the end because I didn’t want it to be over.

Go read it.

*****I’m sorry, witches. I’m a jerk. I don’t mean it. I love you guys.

Which is also pretty awkward.

Can we just shake hands and walk away from all of this?

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Filed under Bacon, Ice Cream, Mexican, Spring