Trigger Words and Coconut Caramels

I'm sorry for forcing you to change your language around me.

Language is a means by which we are able to communicate our experiences to others, but in the same way we shape our language, language shapes our perception of the world.

I've changed my language around you. You don't know that I have. It's not a matter of walking on eggshells. It's a matter of growing with you and having you be part of my life. I won't give you examples. That's not the point. The point is that as of yesterday, we learned that SHOULD is my trigger word.

I used to use that word a lot. One day, I was complaining to a friend over coffee about how stressful my life was. My ex was complaining about how we couldn't move because I didn't want to and I was in the way of everything he wanted to do and that we couldn't do anything because my life and career were on the peninsula, but his was in the city. This wasn't true. I worked really hard to make sure he had everything he ever wanted or needed insofar as I thought reasonable. Eat healthier? I cooked. I packed lunches. Party in the city? I'd dress up and be designated driver. Or say, you go ahead. I have rehearsal. Drive safely.

I told her that he should do the work of finding an apartment and moving. I'd done it for us the last two times. I told her that there was no way I'd be able to live the life I wanted as a singer. That I should apply for programs, but that I wouldn't get into any of them and I was debating on holding off for another year until I could be better somehow. I told her that I should get a new job. And she told me to stop using the word "should".

I was annoyed that she'd ask me to change my vocabulary. It's just one word! And then I thought, she's really smart. She's done some amazing things out of nowhere that I haven't been able to wrap my head around. She's amazing. I trust her. So I tried it.

I honestly believe that by doing my best to remove that word from my vocabulary, I have been able to change my life.

I got angry with you for telling me I should post a recipe. 

 

By telling me you expected it, you removed any choice I had in the matter. Did I think the recipe was good enough? I mean, I SET MY OVEN ON FIRE. Did I want to try something different? Maybe add coffee? Did I want to focus on writing my speech workshop and hold off on blog posts for a little while? You forced a request onto my plate that I did not want on there.

You took away my ability to give this to you freely and as a gift. A gift can only truly be a gift if I have a choice not to give it.

It doesn't seem like it matters that much. People say "should" all the time. "You should download this app." "You should come out with me." "We should catch up." "You should try this exercise program/diet." "We should have left earlier." "We should have tried to meet up." "We should have gone elsewhere."

And yea, it's annoying, but people are annoying. I guess I can live with all that.

The worst part is watching how you use that word on yourself.

 Because you don't have to.

Think about it. Again, I don't care what words you feel you must use, but if you ever tell me I should do something, I will tell you to fuck off. With love.

Also, consider wearing blue lipstick (see illustration).

Coconut Caramels
This is a softer, sweeter version of one of my favorite treats from Guam.

1 cup coconut milk
1 cup sugar
pinch of salt
1 cup shaved, dry coconut (preferably unsweetened)


Dump sugar, salt, and coconut milk into a stainless steel pan. Do not mix. Just turn on the heat to medium and step away. After 10 minutes, the mixture should be a bubbly and syrupy. Turn the heat down. You don't want it to burn. You also don't want to buy a thermometer, because UGH WORK. But you're smart. You know how to test candy without a thermometer.

While you do this, put the shaved, dry coconut into a dry saute pan and toast on medium heat until nutty and golden brown. DO NOT do this under a broiler. You will set your oven on fire. Go ahead and try it. I'll wait.

When your dried coconut catches fire, do not remove the pan from the oven. Place a larger pan or bowl or something over the flaming coconut to snuff the flame. You can remove the pan once the flames are out and get rid of your coconut ashes.

When your bubbly coconut syrup has reached firm ball stage, remove it from the heat and stir in the toasted dry coconut.

To cool, spoon the mixture onto a greased baking sheet or onto parchment paper, if you happen to have it. I never do. When it cools down enough to hold its shape, use a knife to cut the caramel into bite-size pieces or a spoon to spoon the caramel into small squares of wax paper that you can twist into individual candies. Keep in an airtight container in the fridge or throw into the freezer.

Give to the guy you have had a crush on forever and also your friends in common and I guess anyone else between you and him so your affection for him is completely undetectable from how you treat everyone else, so he's never truly aware of the fact that you are so into him that one time, when he walked past and tossed his hair, you almost fell over, because you are a Tex Avery cartoon.

How to make real chicken soup for your lover, a step-by-step process

Buy the whole chicken. You've decided to mother him, so buy the good organic chicken, though it's overpriced at three-days-before-Christmas prices, so moved were you by the sniffles from his little red nose and his despairing glances at the snow, which decided to fall just now, just as he's walking you home, like a zombie clinging to his chivalry. Toss a bunch of vegetables into your basket, along with the naked bird you will sacrifice in the name of your love.

At your apartment, free the chicken from its plastic bindings. With your biggest and baddest kitchen knife in hand, rotate that chicken around on your cutting board, attempting to find the easiest point at which to bisect it. Take a deep breath. Imagine the chicken taking a deep breath too. Congratulations, you are weird and kind of gross. Prepare, ye two, for the inevitable. 

Shank the chicken right between its breasts. The raw meat and skin jiggle awkwardly. Notice how the chicken, jiggling its naked wingtips toward the sky looks like the hapless victim of a violent mugging.  "Nah, man...please don't cut me man..." you can almost hear the chicken pleading. Curse.

Turn the damn chicken around on its back so it can't see The End. Give it a good hard whack on the butt to prove your dominance, for you mean to make real chicken soup, and this requires sacrificing your innocence. 

This is the chicken soup your mother and her mother before her, and her mother before her, and the cavewoman who birthed your entire ancestral line made when your great grandfather^10000 convalesced from smallpox or from hunting a wild boar or something. No thin-ass broth made with one sad defrosted breast ever saved ANYONE from smallpox and certainly, you will not feed your future husband some sub-par soup, you vow, while simultaneously planning your wedding, which will be on a boat, and who are the most important to invite since the maximum capacity is 40? 

Only the best!  Chicken soup from scratch, chicken soup made from a whole chicken! "Oh, do you want to try my chicken soup, the one I make with cilantro? Or the Greek kind, with lemon? I can make all kinds of chicken soup, you know. It's just about what you prefer," you said, with the shrug of one who thinks she can dismember chickens in her sleep just because she used to be a food critic. 

Ah, how easy it was to brag. Now you press all your weight down on that dull knife, the one you got in a $12-for-three deal on amazon.com. Saw away, foolish girl, slowly but surely, through the layers of muscle and yellow fat and pale goosepimply skin. Rue the day you didn't pack a proper Chinese meat knife, the kind of heavy duty death cleaver your grandma uses to get business done. Swiftly. 

Oh god. THERE'S BLOOD EVERYWHERE INSIDE. IT'S CONGEALED AT THE JOINTS, LIKE A PUDDING. 

WHERE'S THE SINK???

***

10 minutes later

Wash the chicken parts under running water. 

Place the chicken parts in the pot with a good amount of salt. 

Realize that your pot is too small to fit all the chicken parts. Curse. Freeze half of the damn chicken. 

Wait patiently for the first boil. You need to skim the scum that comes to the surface, give it a change of water and salt that dirty bird down again, like your foremothers before you have done. Atleast you didn't have to pluck it.

Oh no, you remember something. Only a few weeks ago your lover was disturbed by sudden disappearance of the rooster living next door. The rooster started out as an annoyance, with his 5AM cockle-doodle-dooing, but then your lover had quickly gotten attached, with his big soft heart and trusting eyes. He started peeking over at that rooster. He felt for that rooster which had no hens to chase around and was all alone in its cold rooster house, in a barren backyard on an especially crime-ridden neighborhood block of Bed-Stuy where Jay-Z once worked as a chicken fryer at Crown's Fried Chicken before he married Beyonce.

The fattened rooster had been neatly murdered on Thanksgiving day. He kept looking for it days after the fact, hoping to see it alive and well.

I'm a monster, you realize with dawning horror. He's going to think I'm a monster! We'll never have our boat wedding. I'll never wear that red qipao-inspired wedding dress that I'm going to get made in Shanghai for much less money than all those silly hags spend on their dress at that snotty shop on Say Yes to the Dress!

But the chicken is bubbling. And it smells tasty. You must add the green onions. Despite all your shortcomings.

Sigh. This is the human condition. 

You want to nurse him with the life-giving chicken soup your immigrant mother makes for you when you get sick. How you eagerly wanted to offer a taste of home, a drop of love. 

After this fairly exhausting existential struggle, you know which soup must be made. No Greek or cilantro soup for him, no. It must be the proper double-boiled Chinese chicken soup: clear and rich with golden oil floating atop, elixir-like from half a day of boiling. Sprinkle of green onion before serving. A delicacy. But then, as a still-kinda-young person you like to flout tradition and remembering he likes vegetables: add crunchy rings of fennel and turnips for sweetness. Throw all the vegetable skins like a sexy hobo who wastes nothing. 

---

To make double-boiled chicken soup, hobo Joanne version, you'll need:

A whole chicken to be slaughtered dfor love

Aromatics (green onion, an actual onion, garlic, shallots, etc.)

Vegetables, sliced or diced into bite-sized chunks

Salt and/or spices

Cook over low heat for as long as possible, or until the smells become too tantalizing and/or you run out of patience. Eat with your legs intertwined with your lover's legs, so he can never escape. 

How to be a chickpea salad

Dear Joanne and Jenny (and Amanda),

My sister is thinking of becoming a vegetarian.  I did this, too, when I was her age, but not for morals concerning the treatment of animals or for health, like she is. I did it to keep my roommates from wanting to eat with me.

Judge me. I am awful.

That said, true friends stick with you despite all of your dietary restrictions and love you despite it.

Fun Lactose-intollerant Facts: Doritos have lactose in them, so if you eat them for dinner you will feel hungover for 3 days afterward. Oreos, however,  happen to be vegan, so should you eat those for dinner, you will be totally fine.

Why be a vegetarian?

Pros:

Veggies are good for you!

Vegetarian protein is slightly more shelf-stable, so if you're too lazy to buy meat whenever you're hungry (like me) it's GREAT.

You're forced to learn how to cook very quickly.

Veggies are fun!
Reduce your carbon footprint.

Cons:

Meat. substitutes. are. gross. period.

HOW TO TRANSFER FROM MEAT EATER TO NON-MEAT EATER:

1. What are your sources of carbohydrates? Proteins? Fats? Make a list.

2. What do you already eat that is vegetarian?  Make a list of your favorite vegetarian foods.

3. What seems gross to you? This can be a list of mushy veggies, cooked greens, meat substitutes

4. How much time do you want to dedicate to your diet? Do you want to cook all day? Do you want to not? Be realistic.

5. Look at what you've compiled. This is your baseline for navigating the world as a newly formed vegetarian. It can change whenever you feel, but for now, you won't be tempted to buy tons of vegan protein powder or make gross date bars. Unless you want to.

6. Research. Go to a good food blog like thekitchn.com or chow.com. If you see a recipe you like, look at where it came from or who wrote it. Go to blogs and posts written by these people. Find what sites you like and try out those recipes. 

7. Have fun with it! It's not a death sentence. It's a food project. Being vegetarian (even though it lasted all of six months) opened up my whole world to a different way to be and eat. I became a better and more creative cook for it. 

HOW TO NAVIGATE THE MEAT EATING WORLD:

1. If you get invited to someone's house, tell them you're a vegetarian. Don't be an asshole about it. Offer to bring your own food, even if they say they'll accommodate you. Some people (Mom) don't know what vegetarian means or will try to throw some veggie franks your way. Eww.

2. Don't let them hassle you or haggle with you. They will. "But you eat fish and chicken right?" "But you eat cheese?" "The only quality protein is animal protein." This has nothing to do with you. It has to do with what they think of food and whatever morals they place on the consumption of it. Your Duck Dynasty-watching uncle may think you're a left wing feminazi from now on. Be understanding and patient. It's a personal choice and a cause. Stick to your guns and, if you need to, agree to disagree.

3. Restaurants are a non-issue. There's vegetarian stuff everywhere.

CHICKPEA SALAD

I am incapable of taking decent photos of my food.
So here I am eating a chickpea sandwich. This is what happiness looks like.

Easy replacement for chicken/tuna/egg salad for snacks/lunch. Don't skip the ume plum vinegar! I mean, skip it. Who cares what I think. But you're missing out. That stuff is GREAT. I will post another recipe with it.

This doesn't look appetizing, but IT IS. EAT IT.

1 can of garbanzo beans

1/8-1/4 cup finely diced onion

1 tbsp whole grain mustard

2-5 tbsp mayo

1-2 tbsp ume plum vinegar

Salt to taste

1. Rinse the garbanzo beans.

2. Squish the beans. With a knife, with a spoon, or with your hands, make them less beany and more squished.

3. Add the onion. Whatever amount depending on your taste. You can also add celery, but I never have it around, because it goes bad

4. Add the mustard, mayo, plum vinegar and salt. Adjust the seasonings until it tastes the way you like.

5. Eat on toast, with crackers, with your fingers. It's delicious.

DIES. DYING. (Julia Child Remixed)

GUYS. YOU GUYS. THIS. THIS HERE.

Throw it in a bowl. Call it something fancy. (Panzanella con sardine)

Dear Joanne and Jenny,

I HAVE QUESTIONS.

How does an adult woman:

• Feed herself a balanced diet?
• Balance a social life with necessary time alone?
• Keep her room relatively clean at all times?

• Find time to write a blog?
• Remember to take her vitamins?
• Remember to buy gifts for peoples' birthdays?
• Preserve her youth?  

• Have a productive argument with a man?
• Have a productive argument with a female friend?
• Be friends with her parents?
• Balance the urge to nurture with the urge to be nurtured?

• Find time to work out every day without it becoming something that defines her?
• Dress herself well enough to give off the illusion of competence?

• Figure out what the hell she's going to do for the rest of her life?
• Be okay with that/those decision(s)?
• Get rid of painful cystic acne?

• Drink enough water so that her pee isn't as bright as Gatorade?
• Figure out how to get people excited about her weird-ass, esoteric art?
• Remember to shave both underarms before donning a sleeveless dress?

 
 I NEED TO KNOW.

PANZANELLA CON SARDINE

"Pan" means bread. "Zanella" therefore means awesome way to consume. "Con Sardine" because sardines are delicious and full of great things. Eat them.

I make this every time I get my hands on ripe, heavy, heirloom tomatoes.

Quality matters! Because this is a simple recipe, each component must be delicious enough to eat on its own without any dressing up.

INGREDIENTS

one large, delicious tomato, chopped (1-2 cups)

1 cup really good croutons or stale/crusty bread

3-4 green onions, chopped

1 can sardines in oil

1 tsp kosher salt

Pepper to taste

(lemon juice--I don't add this, but you might to balance out the sweetness of the tomato)

Directions:

Chop, mix, enjoy. Adjust seasonings as-needed.

You can make a pretty amazing salad by varying any of the four ingredients.

For tomato: Zucchini, Avocado, cucumber

For green onion: White/yellow onion (Chop finely and use less), basil, shiso (whatever herbs you like)

Sardines in oil: Tuna in oil, fresh fish, chicken, soft white cheese (mozzerella, feta, etc. Add olive oil to taste if you go the cheese route), beans (white or fava or chickpeas or black-eyed peas

Breakfast for Dinner

Hello Ladies,

I am navigating the whole new world known as "Motherhood" with my daughter Kristen,

my husband Jonathan,

and our dog, Busy

We started off our marriage in good ol' Utah, but it was not meant to last and after Kristen was born we ran back to California.

Kristen is now 6 months old and we have just started her on solid foods. I am so excited for her to experience the wonderful dishes that Joanne and Shelly will create for her. The poops will be nuclear but watching her turn from a blob infant into a toddler will be worth it.

Completely appealed by the presence of broccoli

Offering her a piece of peach

Rejecting the peach (it was good, her lose is my gain)

One night Jonathan told me he'd like french toast for dinner. I didn't have any bread suitable for french toast plus I didn't have any recipes (I like recipes. I like planning. I am not a spontaneous person). A few days later I had gotten a loaf of sourdough bread from Boudins for free (yaay free!). I decided to make a casserole instead of a traditional french toast because I don't have the time to stand in front of a stove when I need to watch Kristen.

This recipe turned out so good Jonathan now refers to it as my "amazing french toast recipe"

French Toast Bake

• 1 loaf sourdough
• 8 eggs
• 2 cups milk
• 1/2 cup heavy cream
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 2 TB vanilla
Topping:
• 1/2 cup flour
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 1 tsp. cinnamon
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• 1/2 cup cold butter, cut into pieces

Instructions

1. Cut loaf into cubes and place evenly in a greased 9x13 pan.
2. In a bowl, mix together eggs, milk, heavy cream, sugar and vanilla. Pour evenly over bread.
3. Make sure all the bread is evenly coated and set aside while you make the topping.
4. Mix together flour, brown sugar, cinnamon, and salt in a medium bowl.
5. Cut in butter with this mixture until crumbly.
6. Sprinkle crumbly mixture evenly over the bread.
7. Bake at 350 for 45 minutes to 1 hour depending on how soft you like it.

Jonathan was nice enough to take Kristen with him while he ran an errand after work, so I was super focused on getting this in the oven before they got back. I was so focused that I forgot to take pictures as I made the french toast bake. I even forgot to take a picture of the finished product. Instead of food I offer you pictures of Kristen :) She's fucking awesome <3

Love Note

Dear Joanne and Jenny, 

That is all.

Love,

Shelly

Gnocchi and Yearning

Dear Jenny and Joanne,

People know when you don't believe in yourself. Even if it's not a conscious thing, they pick up on it. They put you into a box that says "less capable," "less intelligent," or "less astute". Building confidence becomes impossible. Our instinct is to build confidence from without, from what other people say about us, but what they see may not be what is true. 

I have had desperately low self confidence for a long time now. I'm only starting to get it back. Maybe it's part of being female and constantly worrying about how people perceive me. When my ex called me fat, I said, "Let's go on a diet," instead of "Fuck you, asshole." I put up with it so long that I wonder if I'm making up some of the bad stuff that has happened to me. Who would put up with that bullshit? Why did no one say anything? Am I crazy?

Don't answer that.

I used to have dinner parties with my friends who worked in tech offices. My ex would come, too. At first, it was super fun, but over time, it became apparent that I didn't belong. They talked for hours about stuff they'd read on the internet, bosses and meetings and costs of cars and rentals. Of course I found it boring!  I was translating Madama Butterfly! I stayed home to learn the entire score once while they went out for drinks. I never heard, "Wow you work so hard," just, "Oh that's just the way Shelly is. It's fine, we just talked about stuff you're not interested in anyway."

Every time we all got together, the unsaid judgment in the room was, "You're just a secretary, what could you possibly add to this conversation?" Well, fine. I'm just a secretary. What could I possibly add to this conversation? Without bitterness or anger, I placed myself in the kitchen, taking over for my friends who preferred mundane conversation to executing a delicious meal.

I felt that cooking was the only form of art I could create that my ex boyfriend and friends could truly appreciate.

How fucked up is that?

There is a lot of pain contained in the margins of my cookbooks.  I cooked to feel useful. To feel attractive. To feel loved.

Gnocchi hurts. It is a recipe filled with all of my regrets. The first time I made it, I was living with my ex. He had no interest in doing any housework or cooking or anything. I was looking for ways to get him more involved, so I found a simple recipe. He got bored and walked away within 5 minutes and, for the most part, I was alone in the kitchen, kneading. It was 9:00 pm before we ate. I started at 7:00 pm.

How about that one time, I was making store-bought gnocchi at a friend's house. The container said 8 minutes, but I knew that they would be done in 15 minutes, nearly double the time. She told me just to do what was on the box. I didn't want to fight so I told her that I knew how to make them from scratch. "Good for you, she said. You're so domestic." Her voice rang with something that sounded like respect. I placed my anger and resentment at her into a deep and dark place and hoped they'd never come up again.

Pro tip: NEVER stuff your feelings. They always come back to bite you in the ass. You'll be looking at a potato in a grocery store wondering what to make with it and suddenly, you start crying and you have no clue why. Potatoes are just SAD, okay, guys?

I'm a big believer in hair of the dog (except with alcohol. Gatorade, bitches). If it hurts me to make gnocchi, then goddamnit, I will make it until there isn't any regret left in it and it's just a dish full of carbs and love.

Someday, soon, I will make a bowl of gnocchi for the two of you. Even if it broke my heart to make it, when I hand you a bowl, I am saying, "Here are some carbs that I squished together with my hands and put into a delicious sauce just for you." Carbs + hands + sauce = love. (lol love sauce.... ewww....)

Love Note

Dear Joanne,

You are hilarious.

Never forget that.

How [Not] to Kill Plants (Metaphor For My Love Life)

Dear Joanne,

How I keep plants alive:

Step 1: Buy plants that don't need much attention.

Step 2: Don't give the plants much attention.

There's a plant in my bedroom with black, shriveled leaves on one side. I thought, "That's not normal."** I realized it was right next to my kettle and that I had the spout of the kettle pointing to the plant. I accidentally cooked the leaves on one side of the plant. Whoops.

For the record I've had this plant for years. Her name is Lucy. She's a peace lily. I have another peace lily named Violet and then another vine plant with no name but I can basically drown it and it stays alive. Maybe I'll name that one Joanne. Hopefully its steadfastness will be a kind of plant karma to you.

On second thought, kill the plants.

Eat them. Let their verdant souls fortify your conquering spirit.**

Healthy eating is barbed with discomfort.** Veggies don't seem so great. When we eat them, we become hungry again for something just as or more caloric than our original option. Our huge, hungry brains are programmed to see plants as less desirable than cookies.

What do you do with that?

Everyone is comparing notes, looking at structures and solutions to eat perfectly all day every day. The best, they say, is three square meals. Or is it 6 small meals? Snacks at no more than a hundred calories? Put peanut butter on rice cakes it's so filling! Oh my god what a great idea! (um. no.)

I am mother fucking 28 years old. I have shit to do. I know my eating habits, I know how bad they are, and I know my routines. I need a diet that works with my life.**

Coworker brought me a doughnut!!!

How do I eat?  My body likes to eat the most caloric things in the morning and at lunch.** This is where you'll catch me eating 4 cookies. After 5, I hardly eat anything, just fruit, veggies. I basically go gluten-free vegan after 5 on weeknights. It sucks, but I get really bad indigestion if I eat too late.**

Other considerations: I work out a lot and I find that I'm not eating enough (accidental weight loss is a THING?!?!?!?!) and certainly not well enough to power my body through all the rigors I put it through. I don't go grocery shopping a lot and I don't want to make time to cook a nice, big dinner.**

In summary: I don't know what I'm doing.** I've never been athletic before, so there's this whole world of body and fuel that I'm only learning now.** My normal personality is to do tons of research and go all-in (like when I cut hydrogenated oil, palm oil, and refined flours or the time I went vegetarian), but again, I am mother-fucking 28. I am not new at dieting or eating. So why do I need to trust someone else's opinion? Some of the stuff beautiful gym babes and hard core runners post is...absurd. I can't live that way. It's bad enough I suck down chia seeds in my water in the morning (calcium! good fats!) or that I eat a pound of fruit after I run (SUGAR, vitamins).

I've managed to survive into my old age by learning to just to listen to my body.** I tend to crave foods I need badly.** For example, last month I was severely lacking in electrolytes. I saw bags of chips in the grocery store and thought, "Oh my god, yes."** So I bought a bag of salt and vinegar kettle chips and damn near ate the whole thing. I don't usually crave chips, so that was weird. I noticed that had been getting nausea and headaches after drinking water, and I remembered a runner friend telling me to salt the water I drink during long runs, so I drank a couple sodas (yuck) and when I decided that was horrible, I just added salt to my drinks. That was weird. But it worked. Salt your watermelon juice, kids. It's delicious.

watermelon plus salt plus blender

HOW TO EAT MORE VEGGIES

Tip 1: Let your body adjust to eating more plants! Your body doesn't know right away how to digest what you're putting into it. That's why you feel empty an hour after you eat a salad.** You can go hard, eat nothing but veggies and fruit and suffer for 2 days. Or you can just start adding veggies/fruit to your normal diet.

Repeat after me: "I'm sorry to hear about your flatulence."

Tip 2: Start small. "I will buy 10 vegetables and make a delicious salad!"

LOL. No, I won't. That's too much commitment.**

I have vegetable soup in my fridge right now. I'm not sure how/when I'll eat it. I have to think of it as chunky tomato juice or something. Maybe I'll add vodka and Worcester sauce and attack with celery stick.

Looks meh, tastes good**

The entire jar of soup is less than 500 calories. I can eat it all in one sitting.

I'm tired of eating now, I don't want to do it, you can't make me!**

Maybe that's how I accidentally lost 5 pounds.

Tip 3: Look for the most delicious veggies and fruits. If you are excited over the freshness and beauty of something, you're more likely to eat it.** Look for them in season. Bland, out-of-season fruit is NASTAY.** They often look better than in-season fruit, so watch out for beautiful, bland fruit!** I think bland fruit is a crime against humanity.

Tip 4: Think of ways to make fruit/veggies appetizing. This takes a lot of searching. Like I LOVE roasted beets and sweet potatoes, but I don't like waiting for them to roast.** So I searched for recipes online for raw beet salad and sweet potato gnocchi. Remind me to write a blog post about yearning and gnocchi.

Trader Joes Eggplant Hummus is DELICIOUS

Tip 5: Look at times when you are amenable to eating raw fruit or veggies. I love pears and coffee. I wouldn't know that except I had a pear once and black coffee and I thought, oh my god this is delicious. I find that balanced, ripe, juicy fruit is soul-satisfying in a way that competes with desires of the flesh. Something in my brain is like delicious peach = delicious person. I eat a lot of fruit. YAY INTROVERSION.***

I also like to eat in the car, especially after I work out. I don't know why, but after burning so many calories, fruit just seems DELICIOUS and I don't get woozy or exhausted on my drive. Fruit keeps me alert enough to sing for 2 hours or write for 2 hours or color in my notebooks with crayons for 2 hours. I'll even eat a bland apple if I'm in the car.**  I'll hate it, but what else is there to do? Drive, munch. Shrug.

They to eat something more caloric, maybe with more protein after a workout, but ugh, EFFORT.** Fruit is convenient food! It comes in its own packaging!**

I hope this helps, Joanne! Go forth and eat more fruits and veggies and LIVE HEALTHFULLY FOREVER!

Love,

Hug Monster

**Metaphor for my love life.

***Not a metaphor. This is real.

The French Laundry gets reviewed...by a 4-year-old girl.

Dear Shelly,

I'M NUTS FOR THIS! LIKE SQUIRRELS. Read it! Read it now!! ::kawaii-induced tears, followed by scampering and stomach rumbles::

http://www.thebolditalic.com/articles/5607-a-four-year-old-reviews-the-french-laundry

love note

Starlings!

Dear Joanne,

I miss you!!!! I have a 2 for 1 flight deal for an impromptu trip to NYC, I just have to make my decision by September 1 and figure out who to split the ticket cost with. I TRAVEL ALONE, TWO-FOR-ONE-PASSES!!!! Maybe I'll take my sister. She's just about the only person I can travel with.

I think I could learn to travel with you, but we'd be like latin lovers, constantly fighting and then reconciling and making googly eyes over pasta.




ANYWAY the reason I am writing is that I just put a bunch of poems together and I have enough for a book. I'm making a book!!!!!!!!! I would never have even had this idea without your support.

 Can I send you a draft when I'm done?

 xoxo,
Shelly

A Love Note

Dear Shelly,

The last few weeks in California went by so quickly, but they were so uplifting and necessary. You guys remind me of who I am when nobody else can. I love you and I love our friends.  

 

I love that we are always dog-happy to see each other, no matter the setting, and that our gatherings never have a dull moment - despite always being dry because we’re so eager catching up that we forget to drink. Yes, we break the cardinal rule of late-twenties-people gatherings and still manage to have insane mounds of fun!!

 

Jane's pin says, "Being Old Doesn't Seem So Old Now That I'm Old"
 

I love that we can sit 4 hours in a Peet’s and be completely entertained by our conversation and antics while everyone else looks over and wonders, are they drinking 'shrooms?

Jason's completely innocent cookie

I love how, when we get together, whether it's once a month or once a year, it feels like no time has passed at all since high school.

 

"happy biiiiirthday to yoooou...!"

I love that every person cares about every other person in our group.
 

"Yea we're boning."

We are lucky to be in our friendships. I constantly feel like I've won the lottery when it comes to you guys.
 

Not pictured: Jason being a gentleman and taking our picture

Lastly, I love that, despite being apart, whether that's geographical distance, or distance as a result of building towards our different life goals - we still get together on Google Hangouts and share our discoveries, angst, rants, and lessons of perspective every night.

 

...the most important life lesson of all.

I love you.

...I miss your goofy faces so much!!!!!

<3

Joanne