Dinnrr

Roasted (discount rack) vegetables with (random cupboard) spices and a honey (yellow, not grainy) mustard dressing, topped with a (poorly) poached egg. 

Bon appétit! 

Goals

It's great to have goals. Mine include:


Buy new shoelaces so my left converse isn't held together with a very short, frayed piece of string

and

Throw out the rotten miniature pumpkin(s) sitting on my bookshelf

and

That rotten container of leftover rice in the fridge

and

Well, all the other rotten stuff too

and

Floss

and

Just kidding, I don't care about flossing

and

Stop making jokes about my life goals

and

Just kidding, that's not going to happen

and

Solve world peace



Awesome, good talk.

Sing It Again

Another craft fail. Again.

I wanted to make pretty potato stamp "art" but I only had a sweet potato and it was really hard to cut flat so my stamps had warbly bits and then I also can't make straight lines and I really need to start working and not have crafts be the only thing I do all week. 

I am pleased with the ombre. Thank you pinterest, for making me obsessed with ombre.

Craft Fail

Supposedly if you draw with sharpie on porcelain then bake it, it'll become permanent. In my experience, this is false. However, any accidental bits of shmutz that got on the plate will stay on long after you've stopped scrubbing away the sharpie.

But as long as they don't need to be washed, they make nice jewellery or key holders, or a fancy ash tray if this was the 1950's and people still smoked inside.

In any case, this is a great craft to do in a non-ventilated room while watching the Katy Perry documentary. Such a great film. What a nice girl. What a smokin' hot ex-husband. (Real talk: I think he's unbearably attractive. And that's not just the sharpie talking.)

Dinnerrrrrrrr Time!

(Vegetarian) Chili Cheese (Sweet Potatoe) Fries

with red onion, cilantro and sour cream because you're (I'm) worth it.

Thanksgiving Wrap-Up

Decor:

I started by collecting chestnuts and little apples from the trees in front of our building. I gave harsh eyes to the crazy man feeding the rat birds (pigeons) and stuffed them in my purse like a crazy woman. Zero irony here.

Cut to: googly eyes on sale at junk store in Chinatown. We (mostly not me) glued them on everything, alternating sizes and placement, so each one had its own little personality. Sew coot!

Then we took crumpled paper bags (that previously held scones from the farmers market outside my window, because apparently I live in Stars Hollow) and glued them onto empty tin cans. Insert candle: instant mood lighting!

Add miniature gourds, candlesticks and mason jars for that farmhouse, shabby chic look.

Food:

Perogies, with traditional Ukrainian family recipe involving Cheeze Whiz.

Hot ham water...

Our turkey, Fredrick, mid carnage.

Everything, all on one plate.

The gang's all here!

Old friends, travelling all the way from Alberta, Montreal and Wisconsin, plus old friends who now live in Toronto and new friends. So many friendssssssss! So happy everyone came came and indulged my love of hosting slash micromanaging dinner. 

Then the traditional, post-dinner Mean Girls viewing... 

...with a pie intermission. The best kind of intermission.

So happy! What a kick off to fall and holiday season! Can't wait for Halloween now! 

Overheard...

On my way out of a job interview, after working for a half hour "test period."

(about another girl, not me)

"Well, she wears mascara and some lip gloss, but I just think she could use some more colour on her face, so we'll give her another week or so to see."

What a waste of my lady suit.

A Non-Comprehensive List

Of Condiments I Have Eaten Directly From a Jar With a Spoon:


Peanut Butter

Jam

Nutella

Honey

Cheeze Whiz

Nequik

Pickle Juice

Mustard

Cream Cheese

What's for dins?

Millet Salad with Red Onion, Red and Yellow Bell Peppers, Roasted Garlic, Wilted Beet Leaves and Stems in a Honey Mustard Red Wine Vinaigrette.

Say whaaat? Awwww yeah.

Nice Things

When I was schlepping all my worldly possessions home from the bus station a TTC employee helped me carry my package all the way to the subway platform. And he might not have even been hitting on me! So nice!

I saw Ben Mulroney, of Canadian political royalty (?) and eTalk Canada fame (admit it, you've seen it).  He was coming out of the arts section of Chapters in all his chin-y goodness and no one paid attention to him (just like on his show, BA-zing!). 

Ben gets stuck early on in a rendition of Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes.

If you're basically a vagrant and have no proof of address, the public library will mail you a postcard so you can get a free library card. I'm going to get mail! Yay!

Last night a ghost stories walking tour came through our bulding's courtyard. Apparently the church burnt down a long time ago and now it's haunted (allegedly). We chatted through the window, someone asked if they could come up for a beer, you know, it's Canada. 

"Rustic" Tomato Soup With Grilled Cheese "Croutons"

If you find tomatoes on sale, go ahead and pick up a big bag. Even if you're not going to use them right away, they can sit in a bowl on the table until you're ready for them. Instant centrepiece! Martha would be proud. Hers would look better, but I think she'd still be proud.

If they're not the most gorgeous, ripe, heirloom tomatoes you've ever seen, just chop them up and throw them in the oven to roast with salt, pepper, and a big whack of garlic (whack being the collective noun for garlic).



Chop an onion and get it sauteing, then add the tomatoes and garlic once they're roasty. Add chicken stock and water and let it bubble away for a bit. Give the tomatoes a little mush with the potato masher every once in a while. Once everyone's gotten acquainted, give it a blitz with a blender. Leave some chucks though and don't bother putting it through the sieve. Chunky = rustic. Add a touch of milk or cream at the end.

I made some little grilled cheese sandwiches with sharp cheddar and a baguette. If your baguette was as old as mine you'll end up with more of a crouton than a sandwich, but it's hard to talk semantics with your mouth full. 

Four and Twenty Blackberries Baked in a Pie

Step one: after eating delicious sandwiches, take a trip with your friend Larry to Lion's Bay. While he and your boyfriend jump from ridiculous heights into the freezing pacific, you pick blackberries by the train tracks. Wear a cute dress for whimsical effect. Ignore the thorns, thorns are not whimsical.

Later, after nursing your scratch wounds, buy some puff pastry. I accidentally bought the little pre-cut puff cups, but you could just roll out the regular flat sheets for a full sized pie. Sprinkle with sugar and toss in the oven to pre-bake for a while. Then throw half the blackberries in a pot with a lot of sugar. Like a lot. Wild blackberries are tart, to say the least. Mush them up until you reach a substance that could be described as a compote.

Take the puff cups out just after they pouf, but before they start to brown. Pull out the cup tops with a fork and save them for a little snack later. Spoon in compote, top with a few whole berries, and pop back in the oven until they're golden brown. Be sure to try one while they're still scalding and burn off a few of your taste-buds.

 

Thanks Chapters

Was feeling so bummed about the job hunt that I almost bought a pack of motivational notecards. Thanks for preying on my vulnerability and love of typography, Chapters. I'll be back tomorrow to buy the vintage inspired porcelain egg holder and wildfire scented candle that I did not even know you carried.

Excellent, Awesome Pita Sandwich

To make this sandwich, you should first visit your friend Larry's house. Larry just made a soundproof room in his house so he can practice guitar without disturbing the neighbours. Talented and courteous and, ladies, check the pic for a little sample of his biceps.

This sandwich was a the result of a refrigerator ransack. It's got leftover chicken breast and bacon, hummous and curry mayo, sprouts, tomato, avocado, garlic havarti, woah. Smash all that into an only partially torn pita and you are in business. 

Served with Miss. Vickies balsamic vinegar chips and a little vino that Larry had lieing around. Classy, ladies. Classy.

Larry tore his pita a lot. Too much. But he doesn't give a frack; he just pita on either side like bread. He's innovative, ladies. Just like all the billionaires.  

BisforCookie is Under Construction!

In case any one was still looking...

This largely means I'll be messing around and messing things up for a while, but there should be something new to look at soon!

Grilled Peach Salsa

les ingredients:
- peaches
- tomatoes
- onion
- garlic
- lemon juice
- green onion
- s & p

Take two peaches, the ones your mother says aren't sweet enough, cut them in half, brush with olive oil and grill. Both sides, just a couple minutes each while you're chopping the onion and mincing the garlic. Step outside to flip the peaches, then pick through the tomatoes in the fridge. Take the ones that are gushy, that lack the integrity for, say, being sliced onto sandwiches. Chop them up and introduce them to the onions and garlic. They've met before, but the tomatoes will need to be reminded. Smoosh them up a bit to get them to relax if need be.

When the peaches are still too hot to be handled, rub the charred skin off and chop them into little bits. Throw into the tomatoes and onions with some lemon juice. As a poor substitute for cilantro or parsley, chop up some green onions and toss them in too. If you have a spicy little pepper lying around, now's the time. Salt and pepper. Done.

Serve with chips, toss it on your tacos, burgers, eggs, you name it. Salsa's been there. 

Different Strokes

Some people have mansions with too many rooms to count and luxury cars with foot massagers on the pedals and suits lined with the best silk that round-the-clock silkworms can supply. Other people don't have room in their apartment for a drying rack. Those people have a spool of thread, some bobby-pins, and the will to have dry undies for work though.

Yes, that does say Santa is my Homeboy and yes, he is.

Home sweet...oh god

Pray to the real estate gods that I never have to live in a place this small again. 

I'm standing on my desk right now to get a complete shot of the floor space. As you can see with the chair pulled out it is reduced by over 50% to a mere 1 square foot.

Here I am attempting to access my closet. I have to first crawl over the bed and then the door only opens part way before it hits the bathroom wall. If I wedge my butt in door opening and crouch instead of bending at the waist I can almost access my clothes. And when I'm in the bathroom I have to sit at an angle because the toilet is too close to the wall for my butt.

Cute, right? Right??

Post Script

Apologies for that last bit of venting. Time and perspective tell me that I'm actually fine. My stomach and foot are well and good, and fortunately I have enough savings that money is just numbers in the bank. I'll pretend I lost it in the stock market, or something else grown ups do, when they're busy not getting robbed in 3rd world countries.

And now, back to photos of beautiful places and cute children:

So, yeah.

I got poisoned by shrimps. Our bungalow had a toilet of the water-pouring-instead-of-flushing variety so the smell of previous bathroom trips was close at hand all 6 (or was it 7?) times I vomitted. The mosquitoes had no mercy and filled up on me while I was busy purging. The power went off at 7am and without the fan the heat went from opressively fucking hot to OPPRESSIVELY FUCKING HOT. My one bottle of water ran out around the 3rd puke or so, so for the rest I could just shish and spit the non-potable tap water and dry heave and be dehydrated until the shops opened up in the morning. But now I'm better.

It was a wooden sish-kebab skewer, dirty, and lieing flat on the ground. And then it was, somehow, stuck inside the top of my foot. It was dangling there under my birkenstock strap and it didn't hurt until after Kyle pulled it out and he agrees it was in there about a half centimetre. Now I can't bend my toes very much, and my shoes rub it, but I think it's just a dull stick being inserted into my foot meat kind of issue and not infection issue.

They were buried under 20 ob tampons, the kind without the applicator. I'm not saying if there were applicators it would have changed anything, but I want you to know he (or she) was up to his (or her) wrist in vaginal cotton swabs before they found the roll of bills. I won't tell you how much...well, fuck it. It was around $600. That's not including the $15 Canadian I've been carrying for the last 2 years, which was hidden in an entirely different part of my bag. They did have the luxury of time, I suppose, to rifle around through my things since I had, as the sign at reception suggested, left my key with them so as not to be lost or stolen elsewhere and accrue a modest fine.

Anyway, I laid down to sleep after a 15 hour bus ride this morning and there was hair and jizz on my bed. So when we went to see a statue of the largest reclining Buddah later I just wanted to take pictures of garbage and shit. Maybe that's allowed though.