Daisy, JD- newlywed, new attorney. Sweet, savory & sometimes unexpected.

A Picture is Worth A Blog Post

March 8th, 2010

I was recently asked on Formspring (an account that I shut down shortly thereafter because, sakes alive, dumbest internet trend ever) if I ever planned on becoming less anonymous & start posting photos, I’m going to assume of myself, B, and a combination thereof. It was around this time that some blogs that I read recently went from being photo-less to unveiling themselves, while other blogs were discussing their desire to start posting photos. Top this off with a few people mentioning in passing that my blog is one of the only blogs they read that doesn’t have photos, at least of the subjects behind the keyboard. (Rhett Butler the Beagle Mix not withstanding.)

 

It got me thinking, long & hard about it. The truth is, sometimes I’d love to post photos. Wedding photos, engagement shots, the smiling pictures of myself & B after a regatta with the skyline of Chicago and/or the pretty sailboat masts in the background.

 

The truth is though, no. I probably won’t ever post photos of myself on here. Not that I wouldn’t like some aspects of it, but at the end of the day, I prefer to sit & write anonymously. I’ve told you that I’m normal sized, on the shorter side, with long, blonde curly hair. I’m told that I look like Kate Winslet a lot, and I was recently told I resemble a blonde Kate Walsh, but what I really think here, in comparing photos of those two stunning women & little old me is that the three of us have some big teeth. Yes. I have abnormally large teeth. Chicklets if you will. They are white & perfectly straight (thank you 8 years of orthodontics!) but alas, the Kates & myself are all owners of a big, wide smile with large chompers. So I’m fairly certain that is where the “You look just like Kate…..” comments come in. People use it as a polite way of noting “Man. That girl has a got a grill” without having to say “Are you aware you could enter a turkey drumstrick eating contest & win on account of those canines?”

 

I am toying with the idea of doing a “Home Tour” series & post some photos of the house B and I are slowly putting together. My reluctance in doing so is The Abyss a/k/a the guest room slash office that seems to forever be where we dump things that have no home, as well as my fear that y’all will step back and wonder how I could consider my home in good taste. (Hey. To each their own.) That and because every photo I have posted has been of Rhett Butler on our very khaki/neutral couch & I’d like to prove that I do in fact have some color in my house. Very little, but there is some. I promise. In a throw blanket.   I also wonder if you’d think that was a little snotty, like “Hello. Look at my beautiful-to-me-home. Come fawn over it, and if you disagree well, you just go back to your futon & plaid curtains.”

No matter what I decide to do, I hope the strength of my writing keeps you coming back for more. That or maybe you too are a member of the Big Old Grin Club, and in that case, welcome. I understand your pain.

Lesson Learned

March 5th, 2010

Today I was all geared up to write a post about the evils of processed foods & my measures to try and remove as much of it as I could from our pantry & our lives. My next big endeavor is baking our own bread all of the time, but in the meantime I’ve eliminated a lot of things over the past few months. (Right now I’m hanging on tight to my small cups of unsweetened applesauce & cheese (in all varieties) because, well. Do I look Amish? I think not.)  Oh, and don’t look at the case of toxic Kraft macaroni & cheese lurking in the back, because duh. It is called comfort food.  A few indulgences aside, I do make as much from scratch as I can, including biscuits, cookies, tomato sauce, pizza dough, pizza sauce, infused olive oil, bread, and even pasta when I’m feeling adventurous. I’ve stopped buying frozen meals, the only “chips” we have are Stacy’s Naked Pita Chips from Whole Foods, & this summer I’m going to try my hand at making my own hummus. The hummus, and B’s new hobby of making pickles will go perfectly with our CSA Veggie Box Subscription I’m signing us up for - locally grown organic goodness! Call me Betty Crocker, but I like the challenge & I like serving my family and friends wholesome meals even more.

 

The post was going to be punctuated by the fact that today, when Rhett Butler finally succeeded in eating a chicken bone he found on the sidewalk (5 am, cold outside, epic battle to retrieve said chicken wing, ending in yelping and him swallowing it, whole(ish)) and I was told to give him half a loaf of bread to “encase” the bone, all I had on hand was super organic whole wheat flax seed bread from Whole Foods. Even the dog is eating well! Pat on back, achieve level 10 of superiority. (Smug look on face, natch. )

 

Then while working from home (see above suicide attempt by canine companion) I exploded a bag of rice in the microwave. To be exact:

 

 

 Rice

 

I think we can all whole heartedly agree that one cannot throw stones when living in a glass house.

 

Or lecture the world on the evils of chemicals & processed food when they can’t read the directions Exhibit A For the Demonstration on Chemical Additives.

I guess I’ll return that patchouli to the market.

Win or Lose

March 4th, 2010

I know, I know. Some of you can read the new font just fine & some of you are treated to a screen of teeeeeeny tiiiny script. I know this because my Dad has been sending me emails letting me know that HEY MAN. YOUR DAISY WEBSITE ISN’T WORKING. IT CANNOT BE READ WITH THE HUMAN EYE. I of course can tell you about this & perhaps giggle a little because -light bulb moment here- Dad can’t read what I’m saying about him! FTW! (This problem is being worked on. Please don’t look behind the curtain.)

In other news Rhett Butler has graduated from adorable puddle of fur to Grade A annoyance at 3 am. He has decided that 3 am is breakfast time! “Kibble please! Please! Please! I’ll bounce around until you wake up to feed me!”  Of course I don’t wake up and feed him but I do wake up and growl at him in the kind of voice that one has at 3 am, as they desperately realize, oh man they have to get up for work in two hours and my goodness you hound dog you, go back to bed! Right there! On your fluffy lambs wool pillow with your very own down comforter because you are spoiled rotten!* SLEEP! Of course B doesn’t even stir during this nightly ordeal. Bastard.

We recently joined www.mint.com and realized we were spending an excruciating amount on eating out for two people who only eat out about twice a week and never anywhere particularly fancy. When you realize that those not particularly nice meals out add up to a divine evening at Charlie Trotters or Topolobompo you start doing some real fast grocery shopping & eating in. It has been fun as we both enjoy cooking, and B is typically in charge of the salad & a side dish while I make the main course and perhaps another serving of veggies, as I’ve become the 5-A-Day dictator. This was going swimmingly until last night when he chopped his (stop reading now if you are squeamish please) fingernail off while preparing garlic slices for some spinach – and of course the moment this happened our guest arrived. “Hi, hi! Can we get you a drink?  NO THAT ISN’T BLOOD ALL OVER THE KITCHEN. PLEASE. DO WE LOOK LIKE THE CULLENS?? Appetizer? Lime wedge? Swizzle stick? Do sit down.”

Awesome.

For the record that means:

Daisy:  one stupid, stupid knife incident & one pre-marriageexploding pyrex incident.

B:  two stupid knife incidents, one involving a blade covered in lemon juice and one separate situation involving a television and a huge gouge in the master bedroom floor that we just are not talking about. That throw rug looks pretty there, no?

I WIN!

Unless of course you are asking me at 3 am or from my Dad’s home computer. And then I lose something big.

* The down comforter is one of those machine washable synthetic jobs that I got as a gift from my ex boyfriend after we broke up. It is twin sized and covered in penguins and the dog has CLAIMED IT. And rather than say no and have him focus his attention on my  bedding or towels or ballet flats, I’ve given in. Fair trade in my opinion.

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