Local Listing

We all have our lists, whether or not they’re written down. I find that women who make lists vs those who don’t, are comparable to those locked in the age old “employment mommy war”.  Meaning, list makers are often hyped up Type A’s who look down on less seemingly organized types of homemakers. Just as women who work vs women who don’t are usually justifying why they fall into one particular category.

I was raised amongst a large, female herd of notorious list makers. The kind who are psychotically organized to the point where they might whisper to each other how Julia Robert’s husband in “Sleeping With the Enemy” was a disgusting slob. List making is an interesting domestic ruse of creating some semblance of control. I have come to observe that most people I know who live by their lists, are actually some of the most out of control people I’ve ever encountered. It’s such a mind trick, and part of the stories we tell ourselves. Mundane errands are often clung to like life rafts in order to give, well, order. I had many years that were eaten up by bullshit errands. I liked them at first; they made me feel productive. Then I grew to hate them because I knew I was fooling myself, and I resented the emptiness of checking off a to do list. I usually didn’t write down these tasks. I have a really good memory and frankly, had not much else to remember. But when I did compose an actual to do list it did indeed feel good to literally check stuff off. It is the easiest way a housewife can feign accomplishment. On another note, working moms who wield their pen and paper like weapons can instantly feel more domestic. Lists are actually inherently good things. They are indeed a useful tool in helping us manage our practical human lives. Simply put, we need to get shit done. Tasks are part of this people gig. Listing, sorting, and organizing become problematic when they breed an air of superiority.

Listing can turn on the list maker when what’s being written down doesn’t belong trapped between two college ruled lines. Many things in life cannot be contained within the simple act of making a list. How strange that a list for one person can be grocery items needed to bake a cake, while for another person it’s materials required to build a bomb or plan a suicide. Even for someone so out of control that they have no recourse but to end their own life, making that final list gives them the illusion that they’ve got this down. As I said before, I know a large number of the cattiest, most controlling women out there, who have used their maniacal housekeeping methodology to feel like they have it all together.  I know a woman who takes such false comfort in alphabetizing her medicine drawer, separating the waterproof bandaids from the antibacterial bandaids, and color coding the kids’s LEGO pieces. I say “false” comfort because she’s one of the unhappiest girls I know. She’s mean and intensely controlling. She incites fear in all around her. She is cold and shows zero emotion. And we all know that textbook dime-store psychology would dictate that the more out of control we feel on the inside, the more we crave control externally. I don’t know anyone with true inner peace who gives a damn about which type of bandaid goes where. This post isn’t based just on her; in fact it’s not based on her at all. I know tons like this who wouldn’t blink at believing they are more on top of their game than me because I double booked my kid on two play dates, and my towel closet could use a makeover.

I was once in the throes of crisis years ago. It was a very serious medical situation that required an immediate trip to the ER. I called a list maker I knew and literally begged for help. My daughter needed to be picked up from kindergarten, and I hadn’t yet gone grocery shopping that week. This was the response I received: “you should have known this was going to happen and gotten your life in order by going to the supermarket yesterday”. I recall being stupefied, and that my ex husband grabbed the phone out of my hand and slammed it down. I was in a state of shock that someone could be so cold and use my lack of organizational skills (btw I’m objectively quite organized. My home is always in order because I’m naturally neat. I’m just not a psychopath about it) against me at the scariest time in my life. I never see shit like this coming because it never occurs to me that acting so cruelly is an option. This person’s life was really in the shitter for different reasons. She knew it and so did everyone around her. Once I composed myself I did say "you’re right, maybe if I was more organized my life would be as perfect as yours”. Like all bullies who are stood up to, she shut up and retreated.

I know another chick who looooooves lists. She also looooooves to take jabs at my parenting. Hmmmm... in control people usually don’t have an incessant need to look to criticize others. Just sayin... I know why she needed to use me as the occasional dartboard. I won’t get into it, but let’s just say this has been a layered awareness of mine for years. The need to list, and to see those check marks, can be akin to the proven scientific dopamine hits of seeing likes on Instagram. It feels good to see what we have accomplished. You know what feels even better? Actual accomplishment. Not needing to fool ourselves into a sense of satisfaction by way of Target and Costco. Listing doesn’t make one a good wife or mother. It means you know how to write. However, if we are human beings so used to doing, can we at least make lists of things that will indeed fill our cup? Lists of how we will hit the pillow smiling and wake up joyous and ready? We may as well, since we are doing it anyway. The things we list without even realizing it can become replaced with lists we DO realize. These kinds of lists erase the need to feel better than anyone else. They are there to help us serve ourselves, not to tear others down. No more itemizing your life like it’s a business. That never works. All that usually leads to is the feeling of “now what?”; I checked everything off but I still feel like crap. It’s confusing. We are supposed to feel like we achieved something. My lists have grown in some ways. I have soooo much to do on this planet. As time goes on, my heart is expanding and so there’s more room to fill it with so many wonderful things I can barely keep track of. Target can wait, and my towel closet is fine. Those aren’t eulogy worthy endeavors. No one will care if your bandaids are organized according to size and purpose. If they do, then your friends suck. List away, Loves. Just make sure that what is going on the list is worthy of being put down. It’s the content of the list that matters, not how many checks you have.

Suck it, Griffendor

Where my Harry Potter fans at? Ah, there you are.

So you know how there are four houses at Hogwarts, and how Griffendor is the annoyingly perfect and superior house. Slytherin is for assholes, Hufflepuff sounds a bit fluffy, and then we have Ravenclaw. While all the cool kids are vying to get with the captain of the Griffendor quidditch team, this sorceress prefers to be iconoclastic and roll with a less obvious house.

Never one to conform, I bought my Ravenclaw t shirt at Universal Studios last year, in the overpriced gift shop conveniently located at the exit of the Harry Potter exhibit. Suck it, Griffendor! Ravenclaw represents creativity and wisdom; I’ll take it. Plus, I really liked this particular shade of gray. I love incorporating a whimsical t shirt into an outfit. A good tee says something about who you are. I love to pair one with a snazzy pantsuit too, in the way of injecting humor into a sharper look. These linen pajama pants from Urban Outfitters presented the perfect relaxed chic bottom. I love pajamas out of the house. My 13 year old beat up Converse have been a source of refuge for my feet since I was pregnant with my son. My feet ballooned in size during that 80 pound weight gain, and those shoes have stretched and contracted over time to fit my feet. The straw fedora lightens up the whole look in both color, weight, and feel. It adds a jolt of summer atop the dark gray of the shirt, and bookends the linen pants. This is probably my favorite look from this most recent photo shoot, because it’s  indicative of how I’d dress on a summer day. It’s Me from head to toe, like my Ravenclaw shirt. Don’t ever be obvious about anything. You’re wiser and more creative than you realize.

Plum Almond Crumble

I so love working with any kind of stone fruit. It just makes me happy. The summer is the perfect time to do it with peaches and nectarines, and plums will carry you into the earlier part of the Fall too. A crumble is such a wonderful desert because it’s essentially foolproof. Sliced fruit and a basic streusel topping is pretty much impossible to mess up. Even if your topping isn’t great, you can just top the situation with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and no one will hate you. A gently warmed crumble a la mode is always a hit. And the dieters can just pick out the fruit. There is sugar in this recipe though.     

Ingredients:

Three pounds of firm plums cut into thick slices.

A bag of slivered almonds, toasted on low in a dry skillet until fragrant and golden brown (after toasted, set aside to cool). The almonds will be later used in the topping. This will add a depth of flavor and a nice crunch. The plums will get soft while baking, so the crunch of the almond balances out textures. Of course it’s not necessary if you have eaters with allergies.

1 cup of packed light brown sugar.

A quarter cup of flour.

Optional: two tbsp raspberry liquor.

Directions:

Heat oven to 350. Mix all gently, except the almonds, and put in a greased large dish. Topping; one stick of butter, one cup old fashioned oats, half tsp salt, one and a half cup of flour, half a cup of sugar, three quarters cup of packed light brown, and the two cups of toasted almond slivers. Sprinkle the topping evenly over the plums and bake until topping is golden brown, 45 minutes to one hour. Let cool slightly before serving. Can be made two days in advance and gently heated up before eating. The ice scream scoop is always a welcome addition, and would look nice with some extra almond slivers sprinkled on top🥄.

Listen to Leon Bridges - Coming Home

Primary Colors 💙💛💚

What do yellow and blue make? We learn that it’s green when we are about two years old. This all linen look is entirely J Crew from eight years ago, when color blocking was having a major moment. I was in quite a preppy, Jackie O phase. I imagined her wearing this while casually strolling around her Narragansett family compound. I actually visited this compound with my ex husband before we had kids. We had taken a road  trip to Newport, Rhode Island. It was Kennedy heaven.

I loved these yellow slacks when I bought them, then kind of thought they were stupid, and now I’m back to loving them. I thought color blocking was awesome at the time, but then I morphed into a mostly black wardrobe. I couldn’t believe I dressed like a walking rainbow. I felt Black was sleek, chic, and sexy. I dressed with such a hard edge for so long. I’m happy to say that I’m back in the land of joyful, cheerful colors and patterns! All so reflective of how I’ve softened up all over, which feels so nice. Since I love button down shirts do much, and since I embraced navy a couple years ago, I love pairing this shirt and slack combo. Yellow and navy is always so fresh feeling. Crisp navy and sunny yellow compliment each other beautifully, it’s like sky meets sun. Let’s add in some grass with the green! These Jimmy Choo patent leather bright green wedges are always a fresh pop of color. The primary color theme works so well from top to bottom, and is a lovely warm weather statement. It’s a great ladylike take on menswear. The colors all feel fluid since they’re all hues of equal strength and vibrancy. Nothing is a pale shade, like the chick writing this post.

Listen to marshmello & Anne Marie Friends

Slam

I have been getting a lot of questions lately about courage, primarily from women. I understand why my trajectory is of interest, and I’m grateful for the admiration and curiosity. Keep your feedback and inquiries coming; the circuitous interaction here is a win win for us all. It’s really heartwarming when I feel how genuine your questions are, and I strive to answer them all as honestly as you ask them. I’ve concluded that we are all born with courage, then it gets chipped away at by numerous infiltrators (the narratives we acquire as early as toddlerhood), but we can claw our way back to it with awareness and determination. It’s not a “thing”, like a one of a kind car or watch, so it’s universally available. A tangible item can’t be in two places at once, but a feeling or conviction can simultaneously exist in all of us at the same moment. I’ve always found comfort in that after someone I love passes; now they are everywhere, whereas when they were alive we only had them if they were next to us in the same room. What’s intriguing to me is that my life seems to be courageous both to those who know me personally and those who don’t. To those who know I’m divorced from reading the blog, and to those who don’t because they just follow the IG. That I come off courageously from different angles often takes me by surprise, despite the fact that I do get it.

Years ago I was entrenched in a really hard medical situation with one of my children. It lasted a long time and was a terribly sad, hard period. It baffled me when I got the “you’re so strong” line (which most people hate btw), because I simply saw it as having not had any choice. How nice would it have been had I actually been able to choose strength, instead of getting pushed off a cliff and having to teach myself to fly midair. What was strong about just going through the motions of what needed to be done? It’s not like I had options. There were no map contemplations; I just walked without knowing where the hell I was going. Which I guess really is brave.

Truthfully, that’s how I wound up here. I just went, with no clear destination in mind. Daily decisions slowly started to change based on need and instinct, and those molded themselves into a path. The path didn’t determine the changes; rather the changes determined the path. I came to identify myself as an emotionally brave person several years ago max. Prior to that I always felt riddled with all sorts of fears. I was obsessed with my own mortality and health, which is ironically “Lack of Health 101”.

Physically I can be a huge scaredy cat. I have no need for adrenaline in the form of height and speed. Velocity does not interest me, though it’s a cool word. Let someone else hurl themselves off a cliff; I think laser hair removal is a sufficient feat of bravery. I have written about this before, but I have a new point, I promise.

It’s true I have done things lately that have required courage. Getting divorced, learning how to better manage my finances, overcoming the impossibility of the DJ thing as a result of societal/religious restrictions, traveling alone, exposing myself on this platform, just to name a few. Shifting an entire life to explore unfamiliar territory, not knowing how it’ll pan out is indeed worthy of curiosity. Everyone wants the abridged manual. It does not exist though. This is one of the reasons I love daily meditation ; I wake up every day and remind myself of my immediate intentions for the day. I end every session with my hands over my third eye, clearly stating what I’ll promise myself that day. Whatever revealed itself to me during the meditation is what I formulate into that certain vow. I know it’s right for that moment because it just came to me. There are times nothing clearly comes, so I’ll try to force it by pulling out my roster of things I need to cultivate, but it never feels right that way. What feels right Tuesday night not click Wednesday. What clicks Wednesday at 11 might not click that same day at 3. Our needs are always changing, and that’s where trusting the inner voice is indeed brave. To ignore all sense of presumption and control, and listen to a voice we can’t prove even exists. It’s being brave internally little by little is why I appear brave to you externally on a grand scale. No one can possibly know what hoops of fear and fire I jump through every single day. I have had to fight very, very hard for my suit of armor. If I stop fighting it will fall. Which happens, in which case I pick it back up. This is why the Warrior series in yoga is so powerful. We change shape but remain strong and focused throughout. The arms, gaze, and positions change, but the foundation of the legs stands firm and sure. Sometimes we look behind, sometimes we stare directly ahead. But the gaze never drops.

My favorite name out of those poses is “humble warrior”. I have finally entered a space where I am aware of my own strength (instead of negating and apologize for it), but I do know I have such increased humility. Awareness of humility is not contradictory. Being unsure and arrogant is the opposite of that. The more we doubt ourselves, the louder we yell that we claim to know what we are doing. Therefore, as my courage built itself up and I grew into myself, bit by bit, I became increasingly comfortable with not knowing where I’m going. Bravery happens very slowly. It’s not a several month prefab house. Most things that are long lasting take a long time to construct. It’s not built overnight, and there’s no magic word or elixir. It’s just that it’s literally the only antidote to fear, and something inside me just wanted the rest of me to no longer be scared of everything anymore.

However, there is something I’d like to build up the courage to do; read poetry aloud in a serious environment. There are a couple of regular poetry slams in New York. How wonderful that this still exists; good, old fashioned poetry readings. Last year, after a really sad evening event dedicated to pediatric cancer, I needed depth and truth. Going home to watch Bravo seemed way too empty and stupid (I mean...). So I went in my black tie outfit downtown to the regular Monday night slam at the Bowery Poetry Club. I had never been but had wanted to go for quite some time. I felt like a beatnik in the 60’s; it was excellent. There were clearly regulars who assembled weekly to speak their truth, in hyper intelligent rhyme. The room was dark, there was a stage, and they waved the ten dollar entrance fee since I was new. That alone was heartwarming. It was just about the art, not a money making event. This was a pure, creative space and I loved just sitting and absorbing. It was life affirming to know there are still people like this, who write just to kick some verbal ass. People who weigh every word and syllable so that it fits the rhyme scheme. I have been rhyming almost exclusively for 30 years. Everything I’ve ever written until I began the blog is in rhyme form. It is an exercise that has always delighted and challenged me. Blogging has been a wonderful new muscle that I’ve developed, but aside from essays on tests, I never wrote in sentences like this. I don’t like stages or spotlights. I didn’t like that the poems were judged and lower scoring poets were eliminated from the next round. I’m not competitive, and I think it’s kind of terrible to have someone spill their guts and get rated and kicked off the stage. Some guy recited a long rhyme about his chronic battle with Crohn’s disease, and the judge was like “4!”. That felt so mean. What scared me most was that the poems all had to be totally recited by heart. I’d shit my pants without my paper. I’m a raconteur and comedian by nature because I can free flow and be silly, but what if I’d mess up a word or line from something I worked so hard on?

DJ performances have helped me with getting over stuff like this, but I love my words and I wouldn’t want to fail them by stumbling. The idea of making mistakes is still one I’m learning to embrace. No one dies on a surgical table if I flub a line. Forgiving ourselves for human error is a necessary skill that must be honed. I’m slowly getting better with that, but the perfectionist in me hasn’t been quieted enough. The first step to all this would be to write something I’d be proud enough to share. Then I could take it from there. In the shower last week I realized it’s been too long since I wrote poetry; all my writing goes to all these posts and captions. The blog fills that need to write, but rhyming is a joyful mental workout that I have missed. There is no such thing as being too courageous, and there are always dark spaces in our minds that need to be brought out of the shadows. If I could do this though, Man, would I go to sleep happy that night. It would sure be nice to slam this window of fear shut, and let myself fly while my feet touch the ground.

Green Omelette

Don’t panic; this isn’t a gross take on Green Eggs and Ham. I know we all love the classic Dr Seuss tale, but I’m leaving colored out of this one. This healthy dish is so simple to make, and is perfect for any meal. While serving lunch to some friends, I needed to prepare something purely protein and plant based, to balance out the two pasta dishes I made. Adding mixed greens under a standard omelette instantly elevated basic eggs. I sautéed chopped scallions and mixed those with blanched asparagus, which I then put on top of the omelette. So easy right??? Any vegetables you have on hand will do here, as will any greens to go underneath. I don’t like cheese, but I’d guess goat or fontina would work here in some capacity. This looked pretty; green, yellow, green . Making one large omelette and slicing it into wedges looked really cute, and could not have been more of a time savor. I platted this to make it more sophisticated looking. Done and done✅.

Ingredients:

 Four cups of mixed greens, spinach, or kale massaged in olive oil to soften (omg, ewwwww).

Eight eggs beaten, and seasoned with some salt and pepper. Use this to make an omelette, which you will cut into wedges.

A bunch of asparagus, blanched in salted boiling water for three minutes, then plunged in an ice bath to cool.

Two bunches of scallions, chopped and sautéed.

That’s it Peeps; platter the greens, top with egg wedges, then again top with sautéed asparagus and scallions. Fresh, simple, farm to table, and beyond healthy. I’m imagining Mr Burns from the Simpsons saying “excellent”, only as “eggs-cellent”. Omg, I’m the worst but never changing.      PS; if you don’t know what an ice bath is after blanching; boil a pot of salted water. Blanch vegetables for three minutes until bright green, then quickly remove and put in a pre prepared bowl of ice water. This stops the cooking process, and will retain crispness and that bright green color.

Cauliflower with Capers and Mushrooms

Love this one! Legit invented it as I perused the supermarket isles. I love doing that. It’s such a creative endeavor for me. Thinking how to piece together a solid, delicious recipe from nothing. I love the challenge since it stems from my heart. It feels good to have my instincts turn out right when I test a bite and it’s just so good. This hearty side is great warm or room temperature. I happen to also love cold leftovers straight from the fridge. This is a beautiful vegan main or side dish. It’s lovely with a protein and some lightly dressed greens. You most likely even have these ingredients on hand. Change things up to fight boredom by  approaching your basic standbys with a fresh take. Earthy mushrooms, briny capers, and creamy cauliflower make a wonderful combination.

I roasted the cauliflower first with garlic to really draw out its flavors. I like it slightly charred, so after it was roasted I put in under the broiler just briefly, to brown the edges. The double cooking process resulted in the perfect texture. There’s gotta be some dark brown edges, or it tastes bland. 

Ingredients:

A large head of cauliflower cut into half inch florets

A tbsp of vegan butter, like Smart Balance

12 oz mixed mushrooms, like oyster, shiitake, and Cremini. I bought mine ready mixed in one pack at the supermarket.

A small jar of the smaller sized capers

Four cloves minced garlic

Directions:

Roast cauliflower on 415 with the minced garlic, and some salt and pepper. I’d say a tsp salt, half pepper. Remove when fork tender and staring to turn golden brown, around 30 min. My oven takes closer to 40.

Turn oven to broil setting and char for a couple minutes. Remove from broiler and set aside. In a large skillet, heat two tbsp olive oil with a tbsp of the vegan butter. This adds a richness to the sautéing.

Sauté the mushrooms until soft and dark brown, deglazing with either white wine or vegetable broth as needed. You don’t want liquid here, so just make sure it evaporates. Stir in the capers and sauté with the mushrooms for a couple minutes, until you get a sense the flavors have blended together. Turn heat to lowest. Add the cauliflower and mix all well together, heating just to combine.

Listen to Jason Derulo- Kiss The Sky

American Woman

 I always loved Lenny Kravitz’s version of this song, especially because he had this hot female drummer who was so killer in the video. I have always had a thing for Lenny. One day I’ll tie him up and demand he give me his secrets to aging backwards. Look at him; something is up. I mean, the guy just looks better and better. Piercings and eye makeup on him somehow remain “age appropriate”. It’s the funniest when Howard, who is the same age as Lenny, compares himself to him and says, “Can someone just please shoot me already?”. (Omg, I was just looking for my beloved gun emoji; was it taken away???).

Anyway, this look was chosen for my July 4th post. It was a classic, all American blue jeans and   t-shirt choice, complete with the navy bandana scarf. Standing over the Central Park fairgrounds on this particularly magnificent day in this incredible city was special. New York, like the rest of America, will not be shut down. If you blow up our buildings, we will rebuild. If you threaten us, we will not cower. If you F with us, you will lose. And we will look way better than you while we continue to defend and protect ourselves.       

PS: For all my bravado, I really almost killed myself climbing up the rocks that day in four inch wedges. It was quite a sight. But that’s how we roll; we struggle and trip, get right back up, climb, and smile. Triumph only exists because failure does too. No one will remember your stumbles. Everyone remembers the chick who got herself to the top🏻🇺🇸🏼

Listen to In the Air (feat. T-Pain)

Capping It Off

 I adore the blazer and cap combo! My inspiration for starting to dress like that came from an old photo I saw of Carrie Fisher, of blessed memory. I think it must have been early 80’s in which she and Paul Simon were together. A few years ago I saw a black and white picture of them, in which Carrie was the height of cerebral chic in a turtleneck, cap, and blazer. She looked so effortless, cool, and smart. I was in awe of how she was dressed. Add to cart!

My other source of inspiration for this style comes from two titans in the rap/hip hop world: Mos Def and Common. I have always been obsessed with this genre of music, and remain blown away by the brilliance and intelligence these two specifically bring to the table. These dudes are just so freaking smart, and they are true lyrical poets. So when they rock the hip hop collegiate thing, I know it’s not due to some cheesy stylist. I’ve seen Mos Def perform live a couple times, and when he busts on stage in baggy shorts, a blazer with the collar turned up, cap on, and mic in hand, I am gone. Gone. It is just so sexy, especially since what’s coming out of his mouth is this liquid force of lyrical genius. Common also has a style and swag that knocks me out.  His music has been a driving force for me as well. Famous musicians can really get away with churning out popular crap. So when artists maintain the highest level of integrity by spitting rhymes of the utmost cerebral and creative quality, it moves me. That’s what I came for; give it to me.             

Dressing like this is the epitome of New York cool. This look was based on these bellbottoms and t shirt that I was wearing already. Since we were shooting in Central Park with no place to change, I needed a quick way to mix it up in order to get another look photographed. So if you see me wearing these pants in a lot of my photos, that’s why. To squeeze the most out of shoots I need to make fast, subtle practical changes that will allow for a whole new outfit. Which is really how we dress in real life, so I don’t care if I repeat. My friend Rachel once told me she loves that I wear the same things over and over because it’s realistic. I loved that she told me that! I’ll never pretend like all I do is shop and refuse to repeat an outfit. That is not my life in any sense. I’m just smart about my choices and combinations. Intelligence and style are always a match. Sometimes all you need to create an entire new style possibility,  is a couple of well chosen accessories and the knowledge that you know what the F you’re doing.

Love you today and everyday, The 🐝

Non Annoying Grilled Veg Salad

Most things involving grilled vegetables piss me off 🍅🍆🥦🌽🌶🥕😡. Ok, that last emoji is a tad aggressive but it made me laugh. You’re trying to do yourself a favor, and you wind up with an underwhelming, bland AF, tasteless situation. It’s unsatisfying, which certainly won’t curb any other cravings that pop up. So let’s nail this, shall we? Grilled veggies are often deceiving since they look so beautiful. They are visually appealing, which is wonderful. Mother Nature knows her game. I love making a big, bountiful grilled veggie platter, incorporating different colors and shapes. But no one needs me to tell them how to make a run of the mill platter. I wanted to make a composed grilled vegetable salad. It’s a shame to jumble all these vegetables, that just took me quite some time to slice and grill. This was a bit of a pain but SO WORTH IT. Plus, it gave amazing leftovers to be served alongside a protein the next day, as well as the ingredients for a superb grilled veg sandwich.

The key here is to marinate everything in a homemade, easy vinaigrette to slightly soften the vegetables and infuse them with moisture and flavor. The dressing is the same for the salad; use three quarters as a marinade and the remaining quarter for the lettuce leaves which will be your serving base. Sooooo easy. 

I grilled half the veggies and broiled half to keep from shooting myself. The fire department actually showed up since my smoke alarm went off🚒. I had to say to the chief of the fire department, "Um, this was an eggplant related occurrence 🍆”.

I grilled mostly what would give me those gorgeous black grill marks, like zucchini and eggplant. I broiled sliced heads of radicchio, asparagus, tomatoes, and onions. That’s all up to you and how you want to cook this all. No wrong answer. The broiling is fast though, which is nice. I also boiled some corn cobs, then shaved off the kernels and charred those in the broiler too. That pop of yellow looked wonderful🌽.

I needed two identical platters here, since there was too much of everything. No worries, they looked like one giant platter. I didn’t want to separate them, it was too impactful together. One platter is fine; just select a good variety of colors and sizes. Can be as little as three different vegetables for a smaller crowd or dinner for two. This was really filling. I also made a sandwich on whole grain bread with a couple of fresh basil leaves from my garden for a fresh kick. Using my garden is an utter joy. The recent rains have produced beautiful plants and herbs. I have so much, I need to give some to friends! Fresh herbs are one of my favorite gifts to give my fellow cooks. I tie separate bundles in kitchen twine. Honestly, even if you’re serving a large group up to ten, just grill some chicken, flank steak, or fish and you have made a complete meal. Your guests will love you for the healthy invite. And they will appreciate that this is bursting with real deal flavor. No self loathing or frustrated after this meal!

Ingredients:

Four corn cobs steamed or boiled, cooled then kernels shaved 

Six firm plum tomatoes halves

Three heads radicchio sliced into halves or thirds

One or two large red onions sliced

A bunch of green or white asparagus trimmed on bottom

Two each medium yellow and green zucchini sliced thin length wise

Two Baby eggplants sliced thin length wise

A large container of greens you love.  I used a colorful, leafy spring mix. I happen to like chopping in general, and this was kind of a lot.

Directions:

Place  each vegetable in its own pan in a single layer. Brush 3/4 cup of the dressing on the veggies . Just drizzle and brush quick, do not overthink this. Marinate 15 minutes before cooking. Grill and broil as you wish. All should be fork tender, not soft. They should have a little firmness.

Dressing is pretty much my usual. Half a cup each olive oil and lemon juice, a tbsp and a half of red wine vinegar, a tbsp of country Dijon grainy mustard, half a tsp salt and a quarter pepper. Whisk well. Use last quarter to lightly dress greens right before plattering.

Have a few fresh basil leaves for useable garnish. This really makes it special. Cool the vegetables halfway before lining up and layering. You don’t want to wilt the lettuce. Alternate colors and flavors. I bookended the platter with the bright pops of 🍅 red. Serve along side whole grain bread that’s easy to cut for sandwiches, as an option.

Her and I

A few weeks ago marked the yarzeit of my dearly departed mother in law. A yarzeit is the date on the Jewish lunar calendar on which someone died. American culture, and most others, uses the solar calendar. Since the Jewish calendar system follows the cycles of the moon, the Hebrew date remains the same but will have a different coordinating English date each year. I have always found it interesting when we will use terminology to turn “die” into more of a gentle euphemism, for example saying “pass away” or “leave us”. Everything we say and do somehow serves our survival, so we will instinctively change our wording to soften the blow of someone dying, which is obviously the single most unavoidable worst truth out there. News of someone dying is the swift, unforgiving release of the guillotine. We can’t stop it or plead with it to slow down, regardless of which words we use. “Pass away” always felt a bit like a form of denial to me. It’s admitting it but it feels softer,  sounds less crude. Death is indeed crude though. It’s the most difficult fact of our human lives, and we rail against it though it’s the most expected part of nature.  Everything dies, from flowers to people.

I once heard a Lubavitcher rabbi say that originally we were never supposed to die, which is why we have such a hard time with the concept of death today. This always made sense to me, given how we humans will do literally anything to stave off death. Very few of us accept it, and the ones that do are always more at peace. True yogis have an easier time with the idea of death, since the notion of the body is so temporary. The peace and calm that the practice of yoga brings in general, is a practice of eliminating fear based on connection and trust, so the trust that God has chosen to put your spirit elsewhere into the world is less scary. It’s just time to become something else.

Both Judaism and yoga have always instilled in me a strong belief in the afterlife. I have never doubted this idea, and I do believe it makes life much easier to think this way. I once said to a friend who had trouble believing after her father died, “Of course there’s no direct proof. But for the same price we might as well believe”. She liked this and found it helpful. Finding comfort in a blue jay that lands in front of you unexpectedly, or a star that you think is shining as a message just for you, can be a real source of soothing. It’s just kinder to ourselves to lean in to that, to allow for the comforting. Being so tapped into nature, and absolutely believing in reincarnation and the transformation of the spirit, I love feeling these genuine bursts of connection to my mother in law. It’s how I know she’s with me. How I know that the incredibly strong and unwavering channel of love she provided for me and my children hasn’t disappeared. Aside from me and their father, she was it as far as the deepest well of love for our kids. Not to detract from anyone else who lost her, but our six person family unit was unique in that sense. She was the only other relative we were that intensely close to.

Now you know I’m divorced, so to some, the fact that I still refer to her as “my mother in law” might seem odd. That’s silly, though. I never defined family in the traditional, four walled sense. My connection to her was always about Her and I, and that shouldn’t have to change because her son and I are no longer married. Divorce shifts the family dynamic, but it doesn’t have to eradicate it. That’s one of the best parts about divorce; choice. You can choose who you want to remain in your life and release those who you don’t. It’s really that simple. Anyone still in my life is entirely according to my design. Those who I always enjoyed and who enhanced my life, are still very much a part of my heart. The fact that my ex and I choose to sit down to Shabbat dinner and take the kids to synagogue together feels good, because it’s a conscious choice to maintain unity. There’s no resentment or hostility in having to do things together because it isn’t forced. I am confused how most don’t seem to understand this, but that’s not my problem if they don’t get it.  I still refer to certain family members by their former titles ( as in father in law or sister in law or cousin) , and some I don’t. There are no rules here, that’s silly and limiting (as rules often are). Which is why my closeness to my mother in law remains very much a huge piece to the puzzle of my heart. She’s always on my mind, and when someone is on our minds to that extent, we want them in all areas of our life. It’s too painful to have love for another exist only in our heads; we want them every and any which way. So yes, I infuse her into me via the sun, the trees, a butterfly, or a blind sensation. Thank you, Nature, for giving her to me in other ways.

I actually met my mother in law without my ex. He and I were dating seriously, and it just so happened that my in laws had taken my sister in law for a college interview. I attended this college, so I met them by the main office and we went to lunch at a nearby deli (Mendy’s, anyone??). I was sooooo nervous to meet them; I really wanted them to like me and approve. The first time I saw her, she wore a light blue suit, very blonde hair, and a huge smile. I don’t remember many details after that, and I’m a huge detail person. I remember everything (thank you, God, for this memory and ability to absorb). But I think a lot of the specific details about that meeting didn’t stick because they weren’t important. Feeling and energy had taken over the instinct to cling to remembering everyone’s lunch order (though I imagine thick soup was involved). What I remember was immediately feeling a closeness and acceptance from this woman. We were clearly very similar in certain ways; bubbly, friendly, talkative, affectionate. Both she and I could/can talk to a wall. We both felt a social responsibility to fill silence with warm chatter, and we were/are great at it. It’s a nice quality to put a room at ease with genuine conversation. She was particularly skilled at this, and was known for it. She liked being liked, and it came naturally to her to provide that for herself. I also remember feeling a sense of recognition upon meeting her. As in, “oh, there you are”. We just clicked and I’d be an idiot to not hold onto that for myself to this day. And since I’m not an idiot, especially in the emotional sense, I went alone to visit her on her yarzeit. I needed to see her on my own terms, and not get lost in a ceremony that holds no meaning for me. I wanted to communicate freely to her in a way I know how, with raw openness. At this point in my life, I have no idea how not to do that.

I have always wondered if she’s angry with me for all of this. I don’t think she would have understood this divorce, from either my perspective or her son’s. She was from a different generation and mindset, one I completely understand and am familiar with. Those of us who believe that the spirits are watching us, well, what are they seeing and not? Does she see me in situations I wouldn’t want her to see me in? Does she know my thoughts? Does she see me pee in the shower? Does she see me at my worst? They can’t be selectively watching us, and I have no answer to this. But I have always wondered if she’s upset with me. I have asked her this when I light a candle for her on Friday night, which I do weekly. The concept of a shifted, newly defined family unit was too modern for her. This would have hurt her. While talking this out with a friend (thanks for listening, D), I realized that she’s not angry with me. Anger is a human emotion and she’s no longer human. She is greater than that. Nature has no ego, no preconceived notions of how things must be, and she has become dispersed into nature. Mother Nature indeed. Spirits aren’t limited in any way, having been freed from all the heavy, messy shackles that weigh us down. Death is a liberator. It frees the soul from a diseased body that can no longer perform, and from the dark, shapeless, mental and emotional ink blots that stain our state of being. Our minds bring us down, Man. All the time. So without a mind we are expansive, uncontrolled love in its most perfect state. We are just Beings. We just Are. She just Is.

I carried this concern around for years, and it just evaporated with this one conversation I had. It was clearly time to let that worry go. I was ready without knowing it. Once I realized this, my fears sailed away, like a balloon floating up to the sky. A balloon a parent would give a child to send up to a dead grandparent on their birthday. What I said to her that day in the cemetery was a meditation I often use to calm myself down and reinstate my greater trust in the Universe. “You are the earth that supports me. You are the sky that watches over me. You are the air that surrounds me. You are the water that heals me. You are the air that surrounds me. You are the light that fills me.”

I need the elements, I need her, and now they are one in the same. I have them both. The human version of her would have thought this was crazy:). After repeating this a number of times, I told her that our connection was always about just us, and how that won’t change. Connection and love don’t expire. They are dateless, and can’t be contained in a box on a calendar. Life shouldn’t be defined by dates, and neither should death...               

You and Me, Mom. You always taught me so much about love.

Listen to Weezer- The world has Turned and Left Me Here

Softening Dark Denim

These frayed denim Norma Kamali bellbottom jeans have given me tremendous mileage. I never thought I’d use them so much. I figured I’d wear them once in awhile, and that they’d be one of those items you had to have but never found the right use for. These pants are hands down a sexy staple in my wardrobe, and I always feel great in them. Clearly they look the way they do, and require height in a shoe. I always pair them with a wedge. But I have worn these bottoms with a wide range of tops. Tucked in button down, a half tucked t shirt, a cropped top, a bodysuit, a sweater, a blazer, or the matching trench coat I bought it with. The high waist is very forgiving, and holds you in nicely. Leftover pregnancy tummy can be camouflaged nicely 👏🏻.

This look was all about softening the statement denim with a soft, feminine white linen top. This shirt personifies summer; easy, breezy, light, and crisp. I love off the shoulder tops. It’s nice to show off that toned part of my body. All those vinyasa flows have given me more than just inner peace😉🙏🏻.

The only accessory here was a vibrant, handmade cuff I bought on the beach in Mexico. I wanted to add a little pop of color, but the outfit really didn’t need it. Denim and white are always a winning combo. The gorgeous weather and shooting in Central Park didn’t hurt either! Give your shoulders some air time this summer. They carry so much, and they most certainly deserve their time in the 🌞.

Happy buzzing, The 🐝

Instinct vs Trust

 I just finished this uproariously funny book. Do yourselves a favor and get it; “Intimacy Idiot” by Isaac Oliver. It is snarky, sardonic gay wit at its utmost observant and honest. The book is described as if “David Sedaris and Fran Lebowitz” had a baby. Um, DONE AND DONE. I don’t know if those names make you as excited as they make me, but let’s put it this way; I’d carry both their children. And they’re both very gay. Oliver regales us with tales about navigating the murky, whack waters of New York male single life, hysterical clips of his childhood, and poetic subway homages. In between the full bodied laughter convulsions, both in private and very much in public, there are bursts of seriousness and insight into the human condition. A topic, that if you read my shizz often, you know fascinates me.

As I’ve become a student of self study in order to reroute my life (you can’t take the car on a road trip if it has no gas and a busted tire), I am hungry for anything I can learn to further understand myself. There is almost nothing as gratifying as when I hear the wonderful feedback from my readers, telling me how helpful and supportive my posts are. I write for myself as well as for you. Equal parts journeying within while simultaneously reaching out. This is why writing to share feels like a complete relationship for me. It’s perhaps why the sad, crappy poetry I wrote for years wasn’t satisfying. I do have some poems and lyrics I’m proud of, but it’s all pretty much stuff I’d never share. And I’m a sharer (duh).

One of my favorite lines in the book is about a going off the rails Grindr date he’s on. The other dude was trying to “get him to comply” with certain things that Oliver was resistant to, with good reason. So an argument ensued. The date was trying to pitch “you can trust me, follow your instincts”, the reply to which was, “instincts are immediate, trust is revealed with time and evidence”. I don’t think I have ever really distinguished the two. I was struck with the difference and how accurate that sentence was. At a time in my life where I am constantly striving towards honing both instinct and trust within myself, this is a crucial piece of information. The first step to self knowledge is well, actual knowledge. This is very applicable to my new dating life. Since I am a connector, I will almost always have great initial communication and chemistry with a guy. I am a champion conversationalist and such an optimist. Not a blind optimist, though there are times where I’m missing things that should be clearer to me, but as I always write about, I fully welcome what the universe places in front of me. So I give it my all. I am learning that while my instincts tell me a man looks like incredible relationship material, I cannot yet trust that to be the case. That indeed must be revealed with time and evidence.

I have met men who have wanted to use me as a reality show storyline, men who lied about their professions (seriously???), men who freaked out because they had their own trust issues, and men who are intimidated by the fact that I’m a strong, multifaceted, driven woman. Er... too bad, Loser. Keep moving. I have had good instincts about each and every one. I was incorrect. While I was right about the energy ( I am an energy ninja), both time and evidence in fact revealed these dudes could not be trusted with me or my life. It’s a tough pill to swallow. It makes me feel vulnerable and mishandled. I usually feel bummed, whether that lasts weeks or five minutes. The wallowing is decreasing big time, since time and evidence has in fact proven that I do know who I can trust; God.

Last night I was supposed to go on a date I was excited for. Several circumstances caused him to cancel, and I was upset. That night I instead attended a high profile corporate event a friend was hosting. While there, I found the one empty chair and in five minutes became BFF with this incredibly successful, connected woman. She immediately wanted to hire me to DJ her upcoming 50th birthday party. Since I hadn’t gone on the date, I was in the right place and time to meet her. Things like this blow my mind. The proof is here, my Friends. Give it time and you will get your evidence. Honor your instincts, yes. They are so special. They tell us when we are in danger. They confirm when we are madly in love. But they aren’t enough. They are partners with trust. The two components are like the Odd Couple that take up residence in your gut. Get to know them both, then introduce your gut to your heart. Stay on a course that travels upward, and open your third 👁. Stay in alignment by working to keep all these channels open and connected. It’s the most important work you’ll ever do. Ace your self study. If you fail, ok. You’re human. Success only exists because failure does too, otherwise there’s no marked differentiation. But fail with the purpose of making corrections to kick ass next time.

I believe in you. ❤️, Me

Snap Crackle Pop (this in your mouth)

This recipe was inspired by my 12 year old son’s request for Rice Krispies schnitzel. I guess they make it in his sleep away camp. It’s actually a great idea! I had never thought of it, and it’s a welcome change from the crumbs or crushed pretzels I usually use.

This was a snap; I just seasoned flour with basic spices like salt, pepper, garlic powder, and paprika, then dipped in the flour, beaten eggs, then half crushed Rice Krispies. The cereal so easily crumbled in my fingers in the mixing bowl. I left half the cereal whole for texture and maximum crunch. I’m sure this would be great also as a coating for baked chicken on the bone or baked cutlets as well.  It’s so nice to have my son actually request something other than Funyuns🙄. I almost did a double take when a healthy protein was the basis for his order. Unless he’s just munching on fried cereal in which case there’s nothing I can do. Love you, B!!!! My middle schooler is growing up💛. 

I made eight of these and they were very large, so adjust accordingly. No need for exact measurements here with any step. 

Ingredients:

Inch thick chicken cutlets

Beaten eggs (at least 4)

A cup of flour seasoned with some salt and pepper, and more generous amounts of paprika and garlic powder.

Directions:

Make three dipping bowls or pans, one with each of your dipping components. Dip a cutlet in flour shaking off excess, then coat well in the egg wash, then pat each side firmly into the cereal. Prep all the cutlets and set aside.

Fry each side of the chicken in vegetable or canola oil until golden brown, maybe two minutes on each side. The oil must be very hot before starting. Test for a sizzle by dropping some cereal in first. Place finished cutlets on paper towels to absorb excess oil. Serve with my homemade easy habanero dipping sauce for a kick. This is great for cutlets, tenders, or bite size poppers. Def a major crowd pleaser!

Homemade BBQ Sauce 

1. 2 cups of ketchup.
2. 1/4 cup apple cider vinegar.
3. 1/4 cup of Worcestershire sauce.
4. 1/4 cup firmly packed brown sugar.
5. 2 Tbsp. molasses.
6. 2 Tbsp. mustard.
7. 1 Tbsp. Tabasco sauce (or your favorite hot sauce)
8. 1/2 teaspoon black pepper.

This 🍉Tastes Like 🧀

I don’t like cheese unless it’s adorning pizza or eggplant parm, and even then I’m not a fresh mozzarella gal. It’s got to be the processed shredded kind. A cheese course on a menu mystifies me. I can’t comprehend why anyone would choose stinky feet and vomit over chocolate goo, but the that’s what makes the world go round! Obv the cheese obsession is real; you just can’t eat that stuff unless you really dig it. Wine one can fake, this no 🧀🍷.

Anyway, while on the beach in Tel Aviv recently, the natives were gobbling down sliced watermelon served with chunks of feta. It was on the menu at Gazoz, this restaurant where we hung out everyday. I imagine it’s a Mediterranean thang. My friend James loved this combo of salty and sweet. He explained that the pairing of the crisp, cold, sweet watermelon with a nugget of creamy, pungent cheese was a party in the mouth. I so get that, and while it’s not my bag, if it may be yours you should def try it. It did look very pretty and summery. The color combo of bright pink and stark white are the fresh embodiment of summer. This is a joke to prepare, which is why I’m sharing it here. I want your summer easy and bright!

Simply slice chilled 🍉into wedges and serve a bowl of crumbled feta along side it. I’d add a bowl of fresh mint leaves on the side as well, for added flavor, color, and texture. Guests can assemble as needed so all components retain crispness. This is a very easy thing to bring to a picnic or beach gathering🏖.