06.29.2012 § 2 Comments
Tomorrow, the thirtieth of June, two thousand twelve, my little sister is getting married.
I could start out by going through all of the embarrassing stories we’ve shared together since we were little, but I wouldn’t know where to start. Plus, they’re better told in person when I can use my hands.
No, instead I thought I’d take a different route.
My sister and I were close all through our childhoods. We’d play school with all my parents’ teaching supplies, grocery store with my mom’s hand-held steamer as a checker-gun, and house with our Fisher-Price kitchen set full of fake foods and utensils.
Eventually we matured to bigger and better things. Like jumping on our huge trampoline for hours on end. Or driving to Target for no reason and walking around just for the fun of it once I got my driver’s license. These trips would inevitably lead to us getting to the checkout and my sister then telling me how she “forgot” her money. It worked the first few times. But after about the fifth occasion of this happening the jig was up and quickly put to a stop when I made her stand there (at the register mind you), go through her stuff, and pick the one thing that I’d buy for her. How embarrassing … for her.
At any rate, over the years I tried to play that big brother role. I’d help with homework and projects, pick her up at her friends’ houses (which is not an easy task if you know anything at all about how she gives directions), go to all the dance recitals. Etcetera, etcetera. Oh. And help her hide the aftermath of the parties she would throw (not to my knowledge) when my parents were vacationing. That help was simple. Only had to say, “I’d probably take the beer cans off the roof.”
No matter what it was, I always wanted to be there for her. For my sister and my friend.
But I also want her to know how much I’ve appreciated how she’s always been there for me, in ways she’s probably not even known.
When I came out nearly ten years ago I was terrified. Scared of what would happen and worried about disappointing my friends and family. But when I told her, she didn’t even blink an eye. Just sat down by me on my parents’ upstairs couch and proceeded to ask if I had a boyfriend like it was nothing. She has stood by me one-hundred percent ever since. I’ve never had to question her love, and hope that she always will remember how much that moment and the support and unconditional love that followed has meant to me for all these years. And always will.
Now today, the day before her wedding, I can say I’m once again a lucky and happy big brother. Because she met a man with whom I didn’t have to play that same big brother and watch out for her.
She’s with an amazing guy who loves and respects her.
And as a big brother, you couldn’t ask for anything more.
06.26.2012 § 5 Comments
At first glance, you may think my sister and I were following a 10-year-old down the escalator.
You’d be mistaken. This girl was at least 20.
She flew out of the Lego store and sped past us with her empty Venti Frapp cup, at which point I grabbed my sister and made “the eyes.” The eyes that say, what the heck is happening here?
Upon showing our mom this photo later in the day, her response was, “That backpack looks a little odd for a girl her age.”
Really? Just the backpack? Not the Alice in Wonderland getup?
If you’re old enough to be getting Venti anythings at the mall by yourself, you’re old enough to not be wearing that.
Wonder what Joan Rivers would have to say about this.
06.22.2012 § Leave a Comment
Your infomercial did sucker me in. But what really struck a chord with me was the moving, heartfelt pillow story told by your host that sounds like Kristen Wiig doing her Suze Orman impression.
Check out the video starting at 12:36 (or 0:09 if you REALLY want to treat yourself to Mike, the inventor’s, lovely stache).
And my biggest question after watching this infomercial, you wonder? Well, of course it’s HOW can I get myself in that audience the next time there’s a taping?!
06.20.2012 § Leave a Comment
06.16.2012 § Leave a Comment
When it’s 9:30 at night, you’re at the grocery store, you’re hungry, don’t tend to follow recipes, and love anything that combines carbs and sauce, there are really quite a few things you can pile together and end up with something great … which is what I typically end up doing when cooking.
Friday night I made one such pile. I’m not really sure what to call it (feel free to make name suggestions), but it was delicious!
Here’s what I did:
Bought a pack of flatbreads found in the deli area of the grocery store on the low shelves that often are in front of the deli cases. The ones I used (pictured below) come in a pack of three and two will take up the full area of a large cookie sheet when baking. They make for a cracker-like crust when baked.
I put down a layer of aluminum foil on the cookie sheet (makes for easy clean up), laid two flatbreads side-by-side, and then spread a thin layer of non-fat Greek yogurt on the flatbread. Once that was evenly spread, I took the can of tomato paste and spread it on top of the yogurt. I love tomato paste so I used a full one of those tiny cans across both flatbreads.
Then I added sliced Roma tomatoes and topped it off with some fresh chopped-up basil from my pallet garden. Then it was set for baking. 425 for about 10-12 minutes got it right where I liked them … crispy, but not dried out and crunchy.
It was the first I’d attempted this combination for a pizza and I loved it!
If you’re interested in making, here’s the list of the ingredients (or as Teresa on Real Housewives of New Jersey would say, “ingredients’es”) I ended up using by the time I was done baking:
- One pack of flatbreads. I used One Republic Artisan-Style flatbreads.
- About 1/2 cup non-fat Greek yogurt (more or less depending on your taste)
- 1 tiny can tomato paste
- 2 Roma tomatoes
- Fresh basil
Give it a shot. Again, I tend to cook random things based on what I have at home and rarely is something I attempt the same two times in a row. If you have any ideas for what alterations to try the next time I welcome the suggestions.
Personally, I think on the next attempt I may add some crumbled goat cheese. Mmmm.
06.15.2012 § 2 Comments
I’m sure you’re a lovely barista. And I even appreciate the smile you’re flashing around the room. Really. I do.
BUT I have to think that you know how painfully obnoxious it is when you drag the wooden chair legs across the cement floor making that an ear-piercing screeching sound as you push them in. Over. And Over. Table after table.
And I’m also sure that by now you could have come up with a way to push in the chairs and avoid that sound altogether. If not, I’d be happy to give you a lesson. I seem to be able to manage the task just fine.
From the looks of others around, I’m thinking they’d be willing to show you how as well.
06.14.2012 § 3 Comments
If you’ve got an extra $3.99 just sitting around and are still looking for something to get someone special for Father’s Day, I think I’ve found something perfect!
Do you think it’s the “handcraftedness” of the plate that drove up the price to be nearly a whole $4?
Seriously, the only good thing going on here is the glittered wings. And I say that only because I’d like to have at least one nice comment to make.
I take that back. The angel eyes are quite charming as well.
06.12.2012 § Leave a Comment
Friday was hot. But after being cooped up in an overly air-conditioned convention center all day followed by a two-hour train ride home I was ready to get out and expel some energy. I laced up my bright-yellow Pumas and set out for my seven-mile route. (Holy hyphenation).
At about mile four I noticed some flashing police lights about half a mile ahead. Exciting! For anyone that’s driven with me, you know I can’t pass an emergency vehicle without seeing what’s going on … even if it’s slightly out of my way.
Well luck would have it today. These police cars were right on my route and blocking the road. A blocked road is a telltale sign that something bigger is happening. And since I was running and not driving, I could go past the roadblock and continue on my merry way.
So merrily run past the police I did.
I even got a head nod from both officers.
After going about a quarter mile past the roadblock and looking every which way for a sign of more emergency vehicles, I was starting to get discouraged. Then, to my delight, I saw that yet another larger road that butted up to the road I was running on was being blocked … again!
And about as I realized this second roadblock, I also realized a mass of people coming toward me in the distance. As I got closer, I realized I was on a race path and was now running against the crowd of the front-runners.
By the time I made the connection that it was an official race, I was already on the parkway and there were no other roads I could cut off, so it was either turn around and be running IN the race, which would be awkward since I neither paid to participate or even knew what I would be participating in … OR I could continue to run against the crowd, getting looked at by just about every person I passed. So that’s what I did until I passed the last runner, who was more of a walker in my opinion.
I will say though, having people cheering for you (or the others surrounding you) and ringing cowbells does provide for some excellent motivation when on a leisurely run. That, or the motivation to keep going and get off an official race path as soon as possible proves to be decent motivation as well.