There I was, merrily taking a little break from food blogging to realign my priorities and practice my big comeback into the world of social media (hint- it involves jumping through flaming hula hoops, jazz hands, and a honey badger) when something happened that compelled me to write. But first, it compelled me to pour myself a big, stiff cocktail, you know, because that’s just the way I like them. Big and stiff. Cocktails, I mean. This one’s called the Green Gargoyle, in keeping with all the trendy green drinks of today like Green Machine, only it has the power of tequila and jalapeno rather than spirulina and kale excrement. So settle in, relax, and let me tell you a little story. Afterward you’ll want a Green Gargoyle.

During my last year of college I decided to move in with my boyfriend. It made sense, after all, since we spent practically every night together anyway. He was brooding, artistic and conflicted which totally turned me on and totally turned my friends and family off. Nobody thought it was a good idea, but I thrive on changing no’s into yeses, so I did it anyway. In the first few months, little things started happening. He locked me and my two newborn kittens out of the house one night because my best friend had come to visit and he was jealous of the time I spent with her. He followed me, popping up in strange places when he said he would be out of town. My relationships with friends became strained because they could see something I refused to and I wouldn’t listen when they told me to get out. Read more

Resolution: make more of these!

It occurs to me in this festive week of overindulgence and resolutions, that what people ultimately want is to matter. Every resolution can be traced back to that very verb, if you think about it.

This year I want to give back by volunteering my time. In other words, to matter to those less fortunate.

This year I want to exercise more. In other words, to matter to myself and my loved ones by improving my health so I can stick around longer.

This year I want to dust off the manuscript and finish the book. In other words, to matter to those who will read it.

This year I want to spend more time with my family. So I can matter to them.

This year I want to be nicer to people.

And so on and so forth, do you see where I’m going with this? Well I intend to sever the intermediary cloaking and get straight down to it, because as we all know, life is too fleeting not to cut straight to the marrow.

This year I want to matter. Read more

Doritos Macaroni

Contrary to popular belief, I follow doctor’s orders. It’s just that no doctors ever tell me not to josh and jostle with drag queens on Halloween, or not to do flying leaps off skeeball lanes in skyscraper stilettos. But if I happen to do those things and then after the fact a doctor tells me how to ensure that they don’t happen again, I listen good. My ever so well-meaning orthopedic surgeon informed me that I have long, slender bones. In the spider world I would be more daddy longlegs, less brown recluse.

My bones are spindly, so they are more prone to breakage. I’m like one of those really dry wishbones from a big ol’ turkey that has been baking in the kitchen window for weeks- you can’t help but snap me on the first try. Over the years I’ve fallen prey to a boy on rollerskates and an appaloosa with a mean streak (my wrist, both) as well as a giant overhang while rock-climbing (my spine). And now, twice in one month the dancefloor dropdown and the skeeball stiletto swan dive took out my wrist and foot. Yoda only knows what fate has in store for my hip.

How to cook with a broken foot, photo by Greg of SippitySup.com

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