A Hawaii transplant living it up on the East Coast for the past 14 years (Boston and Stamford, CT). I write about food, books, adventures in CT and NYC, products I love, the oxford comma, and my current journey of trying to go from lazy sack of potatoes to marathon runner. But mostly I write about food. Feel free to email me at email@example.com.
February 13, 2014
Really? Stamford barely got hit by the snow storm today… and by barely I mean we got 10 inches of snow and ice, but okay you’re right… Those gray skies are the pits!
January 24, 2014
After not seeing each other (awake) for 2 days, @bceagle48 left this surprise for me in the front seat of my car before leaving for work. #BestHusbandEver #TheWayToMyHeartIsAlwaysFood
January 22, 2014
I’ll never get tired of it snowing no matter how crazy it makes my commute.
Also, the hello hashtag 2-worder apparently was super affronting as I got my first angry comment about how much I suck in life by some anonymous follower of my Instagram account. Is it bad that after the initial hurt and embarrassment (mostly I’m followed on IG by close friends and family) I now am like - how bad ass am I that I illicit so much anger from posting a snow picture?!
January 15, 2014
Sushi’s favorite thing to do nowadays is sleep next to me with my ever-increasing belly as his pillow. The practical side of me knows that he probably just likes having a pillow. The hormonal-emotional me tears up as I hug him and tell him “thank you for being such a wonderful big brother and wanting to snuggle with him/her!”
The nicest kind of letter
I don’t like to think about it because I’ve been so grateful and happy these past five months anticipating the arrival of the little munchkin. But family health-wise, the last 6 months have been awful. My grandmother got sick (and then better (comparatively speaking) - yay!), my grandfather and great uncle passed away within a week of each other, my step-father is having a lot of health issues and last week my dad had open-heart surgery and is currently still in the hospital recovering. Which is why last night found me wide awake at 4 AM stressing out but trying not to be stressed out for munchkin’s sake. And that’s when I saw a Facebook email from an old high school friend. He had found our picture from the ROTC ball we went to together back in 1998 and decided to contact me after 15 years. The purpose of his letter? He wanted to thank me for being a good friend to him and for making his otherwise dismal high school experience better. I was shocked. First of all, in my own self-centered deeply troubled high school past of worrying if I tripped in front of the upperclassmen or if my crush would see me with a pimple, I had no idea that he had any less-than-wonderful high school experiences. Secondly, a big regret of mine was that I had a great set of platonic guy friends in high school. And then I got a boyfriend. A boyfriend who was not okay with me hanging out with these guys and the sordid things we would get up to together… Such as a group of them coming over to play pool with my dad on weekends or going to bingo night with me during the week (we were so cool). So did I do the mature thing and send that boyfriend packing with a swift kick to his rear? No… I slowly distanced myself from these friends in order to placate him. We all ended high school on good terms, but not good enough to keep in touch afterwards. So 15 years later, our friendship entails “liking” each others Facebook status updates every once in a while. So to have someone I feel I was pretty awful to, email me to thank me for being a good friend 15 years ago… Needless to say, really brightened my day!
January 10, 2014
My company has this program where if you sign up to talk to a maternity nurse at various times during your pregnancy you get some free swag: a diaper bag, gift certificate for baby gear and take out restaurants just to name a few. Sweet. So I had my first maternity nurse call towards the middle of December, where I already felt like a crappy mom because I haven’t touched a salad since I had a bad reaction to it in a restaurant due to
morningevening sickness and I can’t even begin to remember when I last exercised. Anyway, I promptly forgot about the call soon afterwards so when UPS left a stickie on my door saying they couldn’t deliver a package to me because they needed to have a 21+ year old sign for it, I was so excited envisioning a nice bottle of wine as a belated Christmas present by either my company or one of our vendors (hey, it happened to me before…. pre-2008 but still). Turns out it was two packets worth of maternity booklets. Woah.
Also, not sure why they needed a 21+ year old to sign for it. Because teens don’t have kids? MTV begs to differ!
January 9, 2014
I haven’t been on here in awhile thanks to the ever fun busy season I go through each year, but I can imagine there’s a lot of cold people out there, pretty much everyone east of Seattle according to my lord and savior Stephen Colbert. And oh my god, this Polar Vortex or whatever the hell it’s called is no joke. You know what else is not causing me to laugh? The fact that my family is cozy and warm in all their cities west of Seattle. BOOOOO on all of you.
The joys of living in my ridiculous heating pump-warmed house is that it really only ever gets 40 degrees hotter on the inside than it is on the outside.
Which leads to scenes like this:
My solidified olive oil. Lovely.
And girls night sleepovers in the one warm room of the house (ignore my overworked tired mug).
December 31, 2013
Since my 15-year-old self thought it was sexy when guys wore their jeans down below their boxer line I’m not one to typically judge, but it is 20 degrees outside and someone just walked by me with their jeans pretty much below their butt checks (and in white boxers too I might add), neglecting all the things wrong with that scene anyway, it is cold out! What are you doing?!
December 26, 2013
Cheese and beer…. All you really need in life
Back before I had to give up alcohol and non-pasteurized cheeses (seriously, all those years of trying 1 crash diet after another, a pregnancy diet would have been of the strictest out there for me), my friend asked if I wanted to take a cheese class with her. Don’t have to ask me twice! Cue Murray’s Cheese shop. We ended up enrolling in a cheese and beer class and it was phenomenal! Despite my love of all things alcoholic, I’ve never actually understood how wine or anything else can bring out the flavor of food. But this class changed my mind as each cheese tasted different when paired with the beers they had left out for us.
And the cheeses were amazing themselves! Now I claim I’m a cheese lover but if I’m honest, I’m more of a cheez wiz connoisseur, so I was blown away by these cheeses that were wrapped in oak or caramelized…. I could go on and on. Just typing this post I had to stop to text my friend, “Can we please go back for another class???…. In July…”
After the class, I ended up staying in the city with Ryan for the weekend for a belated birthday getaway so I alone out of my friends did not stop by the Murray’s cheese shop after class to pick up some of my favorite cheeses, but Sunday afternoon found Ryan and me at the Murray shop at Grand Central Station where Ryan gave me side-eyes for going up to the counter with my class notes to buy out half the case. He quickly changed his tune however when he sampled some of the cheeses when we got home and agreed to go to a class with me in the future.
And I didn’t leave class completely empty handed. I left with a huge champagne-style bottle of beer that supposedly lasts up to two years and honestly did taste like the best beer and champagne all-in-one. Three weeks after that class, the stick read “pregnant” before I got a chance to open it so my beloved purchase is currently relegated to the back of my fridge and has a date with me in July. (I seem to have a LOT of alcoholic plans for July).
The before shot.
Beer in wine glasses!
The after shot.
The only thing left on my plate were the wood pieces that wrapped around the cheese. Other people had a lot of beer and some cheese left over. Lame. Though they did leave sober and I did not…