this is what's happened to my life now.
i had a baby and now i'm in love with a toxic-looking dish soap. it probably tests on animals (haven't looked yet) and gives you cancer, but goddamn it cleans well.
tonight i had two bowls of chocolate organic o's and chocolate chips with peanut butter because it was an emergency. it was such a hard day. there are great days with my newborn son, great moments, great seconds, and long, hard, exhausting, challenging hours, minutes, seconds and days. today was a hard day. i went to bed too late - was up watching the debate and trying to have a few hours of "me time" - and paid for it today.
i long for 5 hours where i can fuck around on the internet aimlessly.
so today was a tough one. he was cranky, i was exhausted. didn't shower, barely ate, managed two walks and a couple phone calls and to not go officially crazy for one more day.
now i'm off to enjoy a tv program and a shower before heading to bed and doing it all over again beginning at 3 or 4 am.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
paleo chocolate pudding with coconut milk whipped cream
drooooooool
Chocolate Paleo Pudding with Coconut Whip Cream
2 ripe avocado
2 ripe banana
4 medjool dates, pits removed
1/2 cup cacao powder
1 1/2 tablespoons coconut milk
1 tablespoon maple syrup
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
pinch of sea salt
Instructions:
Place all ingredients into a bowl of a food processor. Process until all ingredients are smooth and well incorporated.
Transfer pudding to bowls of choice and refrigerate for 15-20 minutes before serving.
Top pudding with Coconut Whip Cream and fresh fruit or on it’s own.
Makes about 3 to 4 servings of pudding.
Chocolate Paleo Pudding with Coconut Whip Cream
2 ripe avocado
2 ripe banana
4 medjool dates, pits removed
1/2 cup cacao powder
1 1/2 tablespoons coconut milk
1 tablespoon maple syrup
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
pinch of sea salt
Instructions:
Place all ingredients into a bowl of a food processor. Process until all ingredients are smooth and well incorporated.
Transfer pudding to bowls of choice and refrigerate for 15-20 minutes before serving.
Top pudding with Coconut Whip Cream and fresh fruit or on it’s own.
Makes about 3 to 4 servings of pudding.
recipes that make me drool. chili!
how good does this look?
it's chili season, after all.
it's chili season, after all.
Black Bean, Sweet Potato, and Quinoa Chili with Smoked Chipotle
Author: Monique
Recipe type: Dinner, Lunch, Healthy
Prep time:
Cook time:
Total time:
Serves: 4-6
A filling chili made with Black Beans, Sweet Potato, and Quinoa, topped with a cooling smoked chpotle yogurt.
Ingredients
- 1 teaspoon olive oil
- 1 small onion, diced
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 medium carrots, diced small
- ½ teaspoon turmeric
- ¼ teaspoon cinnamon
- pinch of nutmeg
- 1 teaspoon cumin
- 2 teaspoons chili powder
- 1 teaspoon Smoked Chipotle Tabasco sauce
- salt, to taste
- 1 can (15.5 oz) low-sodium tomato sauce
- 2 cups cooked quinoa
- 2 can black beans (15.5 oz), drained
- 4 cups low-sodium vegetable stock, plus more to thin if desired
- 1 large sweet potato, peeled and diced into small cubes
- For Chipotle Creme:
- 1 cup plain greek yogurt
- 2 teaspoons Smoked Chipotle Tabasco sauce, plus more if desired
- ½ teaspoon honey
- ¼ teaspoon dijon mustard
Instructions
- Heat the olive oil in a medium pot over medium-high heat. Add the onion, garlic, carrots and salt; saute for 5 minutes or until onions become translucent.
- Add the entire can of tomato sauce to the pot. Next add the black beans, vegetarian broth, all spices, and quinoa. Bring to a boil; reduce the heat to medium, add diced sweet potatoes. Cover and simmer for 30 minutes, or until potatoes are tender. Taste and adjust the seasoning if needed.
- Make the smoked chipotle yogurt combine tabasco sauce, honey, and dijon mustard in a medium bowl.
- Spoon chili into bowls and add yogurt sauce on top. Enjoy!
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Thursday, August 9, 2012
I was just mentally rehearsing
how I would depict Anais Nin in a game of Pictionary, so I'm ready. Look out!
My mom used to say...
"Do one thing a day that you're afraid of."
That would annoy the shit out of me. I remember her visiting me in San Francisco when I was in my early 20's and we took a walk in Golden Gate Park. We were in the Japanese Tea Garden, I think, when we saw the Drum Bridge and she wanted to walk over it. I was hungover, as I often was in my 20's, and wearing a skirt and didn't feel like it. I said, no let's go somewhere else and my mother, being my mother, said, NO, let's walk over the damn bridge.
I was wearing sandals, I fall a lot, balance is really, really not my strength and all I wanted was a quiet walk with my mother in the park. But she insisted, finally yelling at me, "Every day you should do one thing you're afraid of!" I acquiesced and we climbed up and over it - not as easy as you might think looking at the photo - and we went on our way. My head was pounding, my palms were sweaty, I almost lost a shoe...but we did it.
And I just wanted to tell you, Mom, that I can honestly say that I've reached the point in my life where pretty much every day I do at least one thing I'm scared to do. I'm not going to go sky diving or start holding tarantulas, but I force myself to do things that aren't easy. And I'm really glad you said that to me 3,497 times.
That would annoy the shit out of me. I remember her visiting me in San Francisco when I was in my early 20's and we took a walk in Golden Gate Park. We were in the Japanese Tea Garden, I think, when we saw the Drum Bridge and she wanted to walk over it. I was hungover, as I often was in my 20's, and wearing a skirt and didn't feel like it. I said, no let's go somewhere else and my mother, being my mother, said, NO, let's walk over the damn bridge.
I was wearing sandals, I fall a lot, balance is really, really not my strength and all I wanted was a quiet walk with my mother in the park. But she insisted, finally yelling at me, "Every day you should do one thing you're afraid of!" I acquiesced and we climbed up and over it - not as easy as you might think looking at the photo - and we went on our way. My head was pounding, my palms were sweaty, I almost lost a shoe...but we did it.
And I just wanted to tell you, Mom, that I can honestly say that I've reached the point in my life where pretty much every day I do at least one thing I'm scared to do. I'm not going to go sky diving or start holding tarantulas, but I force myself to do things that aren't easy. And I'm really glad you said that to me 3,497 times.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
The Trip
Come, come, Mr Bond, you get as much pleasure from killing as I do.
This movie, and in particular this scene, is fucking hilarious. If you haven't seen it, you should.
This movie, and in particular this scene, is fucking hilarious. If you haven't seen it, you should.
My little love affair with NYC
Many people dislike NYC and they are entitled to their opinion, but I find it one of the most wonderful places in the world. I have loved living here, and would love to live here for a while longer before I eventually move on to the next place I call home. (I never anticipate staying in one place "forever", dunno why.)
The things that I love about New York are the obvious ones: Central Park, the skyline sends a pulse running through my body, the pace of the city, museums (if you've never been to The Met it's one of the loveliest places on earth), restaurants and bars, the sense that things are happening here all the time- all the time, the subway...but the thing that really stands out to me in NY is the people. Nowhere else in the United States, maybe on the planet, can you find such a diverse population all thrown together in one jumble of humanity.
When I say 'diverse' I'm not just talking about racial diversity, although that is a huge part of it. I mean diversity of all kinds. There are bankers, fashion designers, filmmakers, homeless people, graduate students, teens who've grown up here and walk with an attitude, politicians, independent business owners, painters, musicians, writers, architects, therapists, parents, children, public servants, professors...the list goes on. There are people who openly talk to themselves in public, not to draw attention to themselves, but for some internal reason. There are people who are clearly in need of medication who are looking for interaction with the general public (these people are the reason NYers are famous for a lack of eye contact with strangers. If you've ever made eye contact with one of these people, especially on the subway when you can't easily leave, you adopt that same aversion right quick.) Just yesterday a homeless man complete with bevy of plastic bags was annointing the subway platform with the last vestige of water from his water bottle collection as he waited for a train. He would reach into his bag, grab an almost entirely empty plastic water bottle, uncap it, and start throwing the bottle mouth out towards the platform like a priest performing an exorcism, spraying water everywhere, re-cap the bottle and put it back in one of his bags. Then he glanced around to see if anyone was going to dispute his actions, reached into his jacket pocket and spilled orange peels all over the platform. There was a garbage can less than 3-feet away, but he clearly had his own plan.
98% of us all ride the subway and buses together on a daily basis. Over 8 million people live in the 5 boroughs (Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, Bronx, Staten Island) and several million more live in the surrounding areas and commute into the city every weekday for work. You can (and I do) walk down the street in any neighborhood in any part of the city and hear a multitude of languages being spoken.
What this tends to mean for me, as a resident of the city, is that there is a tolerance of other people and their differences. NYers are well known for being grumpy which I think is a misunderstanding by people who come from places where you greet people with a smile and some chit-chat. I find NYers to be the most helpful people when you need assistance or information. Don't expect to get to know their name or have a personal bonding moment, but if you need help carrying a stroller upstairs or directions, they are jumping in to help before you know what's going on.
I remember when I moved back to the city in 2004 and lived in Hell's Kitchen (coolest neighborhood name ever). It was Winter and I was on my way somewhere, hurrying down into the Times Square subway station, which is quite large and labyrinthian. I was running down a flight of stairs to the subway platform where a train had just pulled in and saw a homeless man in a men's tank top and dirty pants wandering around the platform, no doubt trying to keep warm as it was snowing outside. There was a woman ahead of me, jogging down the steps to try to get on the train- in a matter of 5 seconds I saw her see the homeless man, remove the scarf from around her neck, run- literally run- past him, placing the scarf around his neck and jump onto the waiting train before the doors closed and it started moving. The man looked down at the scarf surprised at its sudden appearance, shrugged, and continued wandering. I stopped, halted with tears in my eyes as I witnessed one of many kindnesses I would experience living here. The woman didn't speak to him, didn't pause with indecision or ask for any kind of thanks. Nor did the man offer any.
I described why I love NY to someone once and he said, "If humanity has a disease, New York shows the lesions." Which it absolutely does. There is dirt and pain and failure and inconvenience and noise. NY's main goal is not to be palatable or pretty or easy. If you want easy, go somewhere else. If you want real, gritty, exciting, challenging, and a chance to be one of or among the best of the best- you're in the right place.
I happen to think, as does my loving husband, that it's the greatest city in the USA. I'm proud to live here and wear my residence like a badge, which a lot of people do. I know that irritates people from other cities. If you carry your groceries through 90-degree heat after a 1-hour subway ride complete with homeless people begging for change and walking up countless subway stairs you too would say with pride when someone asks, "Where are you from?" - the grin, "New York".
Because it's hard to live here. It takes a certain amount of determination, dedication to The Cause. I don't know that I will always want to dedicate myself to this lifestyle- and there are many reasons people leave, not the least of which is money- but I'm proud to do it now and will always have a fondness in my heart for the sight of Gotham's towers.
I love that I can go into the city from my relatively quiet Brooklyn neighborhood filled with tree-lined streets and families, be in the thick of the bustle where people will sigh impatiently if you pause in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking the flow of people, do what I gotta do, take the train home, and walk down the streets of my hood again- saying hi to the owner of the wine bar who smiles when he sees me, waving to a neighbor from my building walking his dog across the street, buy a fresh made doughnut from the local bakery and have the woman who works behind the counter, who is younger than I am, ask "That it, sweetie?", and then drop into the Tibetan organic grocery store for lemonade.
Yesterday I walked to the subway, took the train into the city to my OB appointment- and let me tell you, when it's 85 degrees out and you're one week away from your due date walking around is not exactly a joy- saw my dr and turned around to do the reverse 1-hour commute. I went to the bank around the corner from his office and decided to get a smoothie from a sidewalk cart specializing, as his marketing announced, in organic smoothies. I ordered The Summertime Special and waited for the handsome young man behind the counter to make it. He did in record time, handed it over to me as an older (and I'm seriously guessing tourist) couple approached. The young man worked quickly and had ear buds of an iPod or the equivalent in his ears which did not, in any way, prevent him from hearing my order. The older woman of the pair approached the cart, looked at the fruit and plastic bottled water on display and asked in a somewhat fearful tone, "Do you have small waters?" The young man looked at her as though she were not-so-bright, and gestured to his display saying impatiently, "These are the waters that I have." She and her husband moved on immediately, obviously displeased with his answer which I thought was odd because they were the standard Poland Spring sized bottled waters. The young man behind the counter looked at me with irritation and a dash of amusement. He shrugged and said softly, "What the fuck?" I laughed and took a sip of my Summertime Special and went on my way. It was, as I thought to myself then, a pure NY moment.
I took the subway home, finding a seat and enjoying the air conditioning. As I got off at my local stop I waited in the line to walk up the station stairs, following the path of a woman who I would guess was about 60, also listening to music with ear buds in her ears, and singing, off-key and sporadically to Jay-Z's Empire State of Mind. "Off-white Lexus...but BK is from Texas...I could trip a referee, tell by my attitude that I'm most definitely...from Neewwww Yooork, ..where dreams are made of...nuthin you can't do..."
I followed her up and out of the station, marveling at her unembarrassed singing, huffing and puffing my pregnant self through the heat and discomfort, and thinking, "God, I love this city."
The things that I love about New York are the obvious ones: Central Park, the skyline sends a pulse running through my body, the pace of the city, museums (if you've never been to The Met it's one of the loveliest places on earth), restaurants and bars, the sense that things are happening here all the time- all the time, the subway...but the thing that really stands out to me in NY is the people. Nowhere else in the United States, maybe on the planet, can you find such a diverse population all thrown together in one jumble of humanity.
When I say 'diverse' I'm not just talking about racial diversity, although that is a huge part of it. I mean diversity of all kinds. There are bankers, fashion designers, filmmakers, homeless people, graduate students, teens who've grown up here and walk with an attitude, politicians, independent business owners, painters, musicians, writers, architects, therapists, parents, children, public servants, professors...the list goes on. There are people who openly talk to themselves in public, not to draw attention to themselves, but for some internal reason. There are people who are clearly in need of medication who are looking for interaction with the general public (these people are the reason NYers are famous for a lack of eye contact with strangers. If you've ever made eye contact with one of these people, especially on the subway when you can't easily leave, you adopt that same aversion right quick.) Just yesterday a homeless man complete with bevy of plastic bags was annointing the subway platform with the last vestige of water from his water bottle collection as he waited for a train. He would reach into his bag, grab an almost entirely empty plastic water bottle, uncap it, and start throwing the bottle mouth out towards the platform like a priest performing an exorcism, spraying water everywhere, re-cap the bottle and put it back in one of his bags. Then he glanced around to see if anyone was going to dispute his actions, reached into his jacket pocket and spilled orange peels all over the platform. There was a garbage can less than 3-feet away, but he clearly had his own plan.
98% of us all ride the subway and buses together on a daily basis. Over 8 million people live in the 5 boroughs (Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, Bronx, Staten Island) and several million more live in the surrounding areas and commute into the city every weekday for work. You can (and I do) walk down the street in any neighborhood in any part of the city and hear a multitude of languages being spoken.
What this tends to mean for me, as a resident of the city, is that there is a tolerance of other people and their differences. NYers are well known for being grumpy which I think is a misunderstanding by people who come from places where you greet people with a smile and some chit-chat. I find NYers to be the most helpful people when you need assistance or information. Don't expect to get to know their name or have a personal bonding moment, but if you need help carrying a stroller upstairs or directions, they are jumping in to help before you know what's going on.
I remember when I moved back to the city in 2004 and lived in Hell's Kitchen (coolest neighborhood name ever). It was Winter and I was on my way somewhere, hurrying down into the Times Square subway station, which is quite large and labyrinthian. I was running down a flight of stairs to the subway platform where a train had just pulled in and saw a homeless man in a men's tank top and dirty pants wandering around the platform, no doubt trying to keep warm as it was snowing outside. There was a woman ahead of me, jogging down the steps to try to get on the train- in a matter of 5 seconds I saw her see the homeless man, remove the scarf from around her neck, run- literally run- past him, placing the scarf around his neck and jump onto the waiting train before the doors closed and it started moving. The man looked down at the scarf surprised at its sudden appearance, shrugged, and continued wandering. I stopped, halted with tears in my eyes as I witnessed one of many kindnesses I would experience living here. The woman didn't speak to him, didn't pause with indecision or ask for any kind of thanks. Nor did the man offer any.
I described why I love NY to someone once and he said, "If humanity has a disease, New York shows the lesions." Which it absolutely does. There is dirt and pain and failure and inconvenience and noise. NY's main goal is not to be palatable or pretty or easy. If you want easy, go somewhere else. If you want real, gritty, exciting, challenging, and a chance to be one of or among the best of the best- you're in the right place.
I happen to think, as does my loving husband, that it's the greatest city in the USA. I'm proud to live here and wear my residence like a badge, which a lot of people do. I know that irritates people from other cities. If you carry your groceries through 90-degree heat after a 1-hour subway ride complete with homeless people begging for change and walking up countless subway stairs you too would say with pride when someone asks, "Where are you from?" - the grin, "New York".
Because it's hard to live here. It takes a certain amount of determination, dedication to The Cause. I don't know that I will always want to dedicate myself to this lifestyle- and there are many reasons people leave, not the least of which is money- but I'm proud to do it now and will always have a fondness in my heart for the sight of Gotham's towers.
I love that I can go into the city from my relatively quiet Brooklyn neighborhood filled with tree-lined streets and families, be in the thick of the bustle where people will sigh impatiently if you pause in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking the flow of people, do what I gotta do, take the train home, and walk down the streets of my hood again- saying hi to the owner of the wine bar who smiles when he sees me, waving to a neighbor from my building walking his dog across the street, buy a fresh made doughnut from the local bakery and have the woman who works behind the counter, who is younger than I am, ask "That it, sweetie?", and then drop into the Tibetan organic grocery store for lemonade.
Yesterday I walked to the subway, took the train into the city to my OB appointment- and let me tell you, when it's 85 degrees out and you're one week away from your due date walking around is not exactly a joy- saw my dr and turned around to do the reverse 1-hour commute. I went to the bank around the corner from his office and decided to get a smoothie from a sidewalk cart specializing, as his marketing announced, in organic smoothies. I ordered The Summertime Special and waited for the handsome young man behind the counter to make it. He did in record time, handed it over to me as an older (and I'm seriously guessing tourist) couple approached. The young man worked quickly and had ear buds of an iPod or the equivalent in his ears which did not, in any way, prevent him from hearing my order. The older woman of the pair approached the cart, looked at the fruit and plastic bottled water on display and asked in a somewhat fearful tone, "Do you have small waters?" The young man looked at her as though she were not-so-bright, and gestured to his display saying impatiently, "These are the waters that I have." She and her husband moved on immediately, obviously displeased with his answer which I thought was odd because they were the standard Poland Spring sized bottled waters. The young man behind the counter looked at me with irritation and a dash of amusement. He shrugged and said softly, "What the fuck?" I laughed and took a sip of my Summertime Special and went on my way. It was, as I thought to myself then, a pure NY moment.
I took the subway home, finding a seat and enjoying the air conditioning. As I got off at my local stop I waited in the line to walk up the station stairs, following the path of a woman who I would guess was about 60, also listening to music with ear buds in her ears, and singing, off-key and sporadically to Jay-Z's Empire State of Mind. "Off-white Lexus...but BK is from Texas...I could trip a referee, tell by my attitude that I'm most definitely...from Neewwww Yooork, ..where dreams are made of...nuthin you can't do..."
I followed her up and out of the station, marveling at her unembarrassed singing, huffing and puffing my pregnant self through the heat and discomfort, and thinking, "God, I love this city."
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