Faux News is at it again...

Conversation over a bowl of cereal

"If I had a zombie I wouldn't call it Fido."

"What would you call it?"

"I think just Zombie. What would you call your zombie?"

"Lea."

Thinking today...

I hate, hate, HATE ants. Really. Hate them. Hate. Ants. Hate.

Hate.




Munroidendron racemosum=purty



I love these shoes, I don't care what anyone says.

Thanks Sir Paul McCartney, Thanks Alot

I can't get Listen to What the Man Said outta my head.

I don't even like the man...

Fat Tuesday

Goodbye hair, goodbye. I am currently bucking the trend of moving to Kauai and growing my hair out. Instead mine is creeping away in furtive inches.

Here is a little somethin' to celebrate Mardi Gras with: UBC numa numa explosion adventure ride fun

I'll be partying it up by finding a TV and watching the "Super Tuesday" results fly...and maybe I'll wear some beads. I know, crazy.

When I was little Mardi Gras or "Fat Tuesday" was the last day I could eat candy before Lent. My mom made me give up something I loved deeply (picking up the dog's poop or lima beans didn't count).

My deep love was candy, in particular Big League Chew (shredded bubble gum I would attempt to shove in my mouth until I couldn't close it anymore) or Fun Dips (pure sugar that you ate with, what else, a sugar stick).

But I was also a good catholic girl. I read my book of saints, i daily wished for the virgin mary to appear to me like the kids in Fatima, i would secretly size up the other kids in my first communion class and think to myself snidely when they would stumble on an answer, "maybe they should appeal to saint jude" (the patron saint of lost causes, and according to my mom, someone I should make a close personal friend).

So this would be the day I would ruefully chew my last Big League Chew and lick my last Fun Dip for 40 days. Any candy I got would be religiously piled on top of my refrigerator and I'd check on it every day, just to make sure it was still there.

Maybe I'll try to find some Big League Chew and blow a bubble in support of Barack.

Superbowl sans the football

Pics from the All-Girl Clothing Exchange we held in honor of the Patriots and the Giants yesterday...



Self portrait after waaay too much red wine (I even divulged my attraction towards the serial killer from No Country For Old Men. NOT because I like killers, but I thought he was hunky if he lost the bowl cut).



Can it rain anymore?



Red wine and used clothes makes for a perfect Superbowl party (sans football of course)



Some swag from the clothing exchange

Even the Tamarind Margaritas Couldn't Help

Last night had a "girls night." First it was ceviche and tamarind margaritas at a waterfront Mexican restaurant. Then it was suggested we catch a "girlie" movie together. So we did. 27 Dresses. I had never heard of this flick and had no idea what I was subjecting myself too. Maybe this Venn Diagram can illuminate:



Pink: Those who sometimes like to watch a bit o' the old romance on the big screen

Purple: Freaks who think movies like 27 Dresses fulfills them on some deep level

Green: Sane folks who would rather have a date with Sweeney Todd then another viewing of 27 Dresses

As the credits rolled one friend leaned over and said, "My husband would have KILLED me if I'd taken him to this."

I leaned back and said, "I'm ready to kill myself."

Ready, Set, Ween!

Just got the tickets...

Ween
Pipeline Cafe , Honolulu , HI
Mon, Mar 10, 2008 08:00 PM

Another Delerious Post-Midnight Conversation

"Goodnight matey I love you."

"I lovumph mooumph too."

"You are my best friend."

(silence)

"You are my best friend."

(more silence)

"Are you my best friend?"

"No."

(silence) "Who is?"

"A dolphin."

"What dolphin?"

"I don't know him yet."

Thanks Nick

Taken from The Fail Blog

A Big Bowl of Satan

Last night I came home in a funky mood. Not funky in a george clinton/james brown kinda way...funky in a little dark raincloud dumping on my head way.

First I found out there is admin problems with my University of Hawaii application. Namely they can't find my transcripts which they had a mere month ago.

Than I went to my math class (i'm taking a "math for educators" prerequisite) at the community college only to discover halfway through the class that I need to go to math therapy. I had a panic that my years of fumbling in math might have left me unable to be the kinda teacher that all my future mini Stephen Hawkings will require to flourish.

Than I drove home grumpily pondering what I was going to make for dinner. To my surprise when I walked into the tree house, the kitchen was lit up and my mister was in there busily hovering over a wok teaming with veggies, cilantro and seitan.

Seitan (also known as buddha's food) is essentially gluten. But tasty, tasty gluten. I'm actually not quite sure how to pronounce it so I spent dinner marveling at how "delicious is satan" and "i'm really impressed by the versatility of satan."

But that big warm bowl of "satan" was the happy bomb that exploded on my otherwise grey tinged day.

I actually had high school teachers

like this...

Imbolc

I'm putting together a personal Imbolc celebration for this Saturday. Imbolc is one of the four principal Celtic holidays and celebrates waxing light…i.e the coming of spring and ties in concepts of healing, sacred fire and inspiration. I'm not overly New Age but enjoy connecting with events that tie visibly into natural periods of the Earth.

My 2008 horoscope includes the following advice and outlooks:

Retrain yourself to look for what is good as opposed to what is lacking in your efforts.

When you start worrying, get out in nature to restore order.

Draw up timelines, set attainable goals and reward yourself generously.

Pick your battles.

Go back to being lovers.

Fertility is amplified.

Consider taking up a musical instrument.

My personal Imbolc time will be to continue to let go of some of my residual 2007 sadness, celebrate creativity and stop fretting. I am secretly (and sometimes not so secretly) a control freak. I'd like to welcome surprises more.

Run Lea Run

Started training this weekend for the "Captain Cook Caper Fun Run." This innocuous sounding (ok, really wussy sounding) run will likely cause me great pain yet hopefully some satisfaction. I'm going for the 10k, the biggest race I've run to date. It's on February 23rd so I have some time.

Training to date:

This Saturday: Legs were deeply questioning what exactly I was subjecting them to

This Sunday: Legs felt mildly optimistic, maybe they'll go along after all

Tonight: Stay tuned

Our Conversation This Morning After I Forgot to Hang Up A Wet Towel

"You are like a betrayal slug because you betray."

"What?"

"If there was a Council of Animals you'd be the slug. And you'd say I can fly, watch I'm gonna fly right now. Then the other animals would say 'what? you can't fly.' And then you'd forget all about your big promise and say 'oh look, lettuce'.""

"Well what animal would you be?"

"A winged lion."


Trying this tonight, looks simple yet delightful:

Roasted Kale with Sea Salt

4 cups kale
1 Tbsp of quality olive oil
1 tsp of sea salt

Preheat oven to 375f. Wash and trim kale. Toss with oil. Roast five minutes. Turn kale over and roast another 7-10 minutes until kale turns brown and becomes paper thin and brittle. Remove from oven and sprinkle with sea salt. Serve immediately.

Yesterday made a sprightly dish of chard and garlic gnocchi. The bitter chard went well with the basil, lime and pine nuts I included.