Spell Check



I saw the above note over the weekend and it really made an impression. Why? It’s spelled correctly. “Its” I mean. You know what I’m saying.


What has happened to the world? When did I start getting excited about a handwritten note being spelled correctly? And why are so few signs, notes, print ads, emails, etc. misspelled in the first place? Are we stupid? Lazy?


I realize this is something that nags me, and maybe not you. I also realize there’s much bigger news in this world of ours. But how about we all just use our flippin’ brain holes once in a while, y’all. And at the very least, can we all agree to hit the freakin’ spell check button? I mean, why else is it there?


End of sermon.




I spent most of yesterday in recovery-mode.


The weekend was dedicated to Ladies Rock Camp. It was hard-core. It was hard. It was worth it.


I’ll post about it in a couple of days, but for now I need to regain my stamina and my footing. Not to mention my voice.


Pray for me.




A few days ago I made biscuits from a Pioneer Woman recipe (link is here). P-Dubs used sharp cheddar cheese in her recipe, but I had some smoked cheddar on hand and used that instead. And while I’m thinking about it, can I say how much I love smoked cheddar cheese? I love it so much, I’m thinking it may be an answer to many of life’s questions. I’m just sayin’.


Anyhoo, any time I make biscuits, I think of my great-grandmother – Granny Vera. I must’ve stood by her side about a jillion times, watching her make her biscuits. She’d dip a bowl into her metal flour bucket, then she’d dip her hand into her gi-normous tin of lard. Yes, lard. If she had buttermilk, she’d splash some of that in and mix it all by hand. More often than not, she’d just add water, as buttermilk was too dear. I can’t recall ever seeing her add any other ingredients, and the woman never measured a darned thing. And yet Granny’s biscuits stood out from the southern crowd. Those simple components somehow came together, under Granny’s cataract-laden eyes, to form one of my favorite childhood food memories.


I’ve tried and I’ve tried to replicate Granny’s biscuits. And I’ve failed and I’ve failed. So I try other recipes. No, the resulting biscuits will never be the same as Granny’s. The memories will have to do. And that’s okay. And the verdict on those Pioneer Woman biscuits? They may be my new favoritest. Then again, that could just be the smoked cheddar cheese, providing me with an answer to one of life’s questions. I’ve no idea which one.

Food Photo



I’ve been going through some old photos and came across this one. You see, Mister and I take way too many pics of food. We do it out in the world as well as in our own kitchen. I can’t explain so I won’t even try.


You’d think we’d look back at these photos and wonder not only about why we took the danged thangs, but also about the food itself. But you’d be wrong. For instance, I can look at this photo and tell you it’s of “Joe Peep’s Pizza” in L.A. I know this because I remember eating that pizza. I can almost smell it, too. We’d seen the pie on some Food Network show, and figured we might as well track it down. So we did.


Y’all – that pizza must have weighed about 7 pounds. For reals. And while it was pretty danged good, I can’t say we’ve gone back. Maybe we should.


Anyhoo, this photo is a fun food flashback for me. All the way to 2003. I wonder how many other food photos we’ve taken…

Could It Be?



Remember when I posted about a stray hummingbird that somehow managed to trap himself in our skylight? Well an odd little hummingbird has been hanging outside our back door lately, and he appears to want to venture inside.


I’ve joked that he wants to come in and hang with Mister. Either that, or he’s considering a switch from liquid crack to solid people food. But Mister thinks it may be the very same little guy who was trapped in the skylight. Mister said he believes the bird is thinking, “Hey! I’m older now. And bigger. And I think I can get myself out of that fake sky you’ve got in there. Give me a chance! I wanna try!”


I’m sure we’re both wrong, but we’ve yet to come up with a better explanation. Though I’m still leaning toward the wanting to hang with Mister. He’s pretty good company and all. I’m just sayin’.

Ladies Rock Camp



Today will find me working the first day of Ladies Rock Camp. That means an early start (which is sooooooooooo not Rock & Roll) and a late night (which is sooooooooooo very Rock & Roll). It will be an intense 3 days. For the Lady Campers and the volunteers.


I wish I could find the words to explain what it means for me to participate in this organization (Rock & Roll Camp for Girls Los Angeles). How it’s changed my life. How I’ve grown as a person through volunteering. How much I love the other volunteers. But words fail me. And that’s okay.


I’m about to be exhausted. From the sheer number of hours involved. From the multitude of high-fives. From the smiling. And I am about to witness 40 grown women living out a dream. If only for a weekend.


I’ll take it.

D-Squared T-Squared – Week 16



Boy-oh-boy-oh-boy! This past week found us tackling a creative food challenge: Non-Discriminatory Chicken Sandwiches!


Mister and I are big fans of a certain chain’s chicken sammie. As a Southerner, I grew up eating this food, but never on Sundays (as they are famously closed on that day). A couple of years ago, a franchise opened in Hollyweird. I was a pretty happy chick on that day, I tell you. And on many days after.


But then the ugly hit the fan. The folks in charge at the chain’s headquarters – self-professed fine Christian folks – stuck their heads up their own butts and decided they were fit to freely judge God’s creatures. Yes, they openly discriminated against all non-heterosexuals and marriage rights for all. Well, I just had to hang my head in sorrow. I mean, their incredibly non-Christian behavior led me to completely avoid their restaurants. To paraphrase Aziz Ansari: I support gay marriage, I also support delicious chicken sandwiches. I thought those amazing sammies were gone forever.


But then Mister found a recipe for a do-it-yourself chain-like sandwich. I read it and re-read it. Would it work? Could it work? Only one way to find out!


So this past weekend we assembled our ingredients and made our very own Non-Discriminatory Chicken Sandwiches! We followed the recipe (found here) from the CEO of Serious Eats. That dude has pretty much nailed it, y’all. (I do have to tell you that Mister and I replaced some of the brining water with pickle juice, as we’d found that tip along the way on some other website. It definitely had an impact, but I’m not sure it’s necessary.) When all was said and done, I felt our creation was close enough to the chain store’s version to prevent me from ever giving money to those known bigots again. And that’s a beautiful thing.


If you’ve been lamenting the loss of delicious chicken sandwiches, head over to the Serious Eats site and give this recipe a try. While you’re at it, do what we did and fry up some potatoes while you’ve got the oil going. It doesn’t make for the healthiest meal, but it does make for some mighty fine eatin’. I super-like delicious creativity, y’all!

Painting Class – Not!



My art teacher is on a well-deserved vacation. That means no painting class this week. And that, friends, makes me sad.


But I’m painting at home and working on a few projects. Without guidance. And you know what? It’s fine. I’m getting some paintings done and I like them. And isn’t the point of all that training – to learn how to do my thang? Without guidance? I’ve got my own woo-woo going right now.


So though I miss my art teacher and his groovy studio (and all the other students), I do hope he’s having a swell time. I can honestly say I am. And that’s pretty cool.

Earth Day 2014



I am quite enamored with the Earth on this fine day. Tomatoes are growing, along with the mint and basil. When I look outside my back door I see green leaves and hear a multitude of birds. Pollen is blowing through the air like a swarm of insects. (This one will surely come to bite me in the butt.) All in all, it’s fairly glorious these days.


And glorious, friends, is none too shabby. Now I could easily get distracted by odd world weather patterns, or civil unrest. Lord knows there’s enough ugly in the world to keep a gal from ever again feeling joy. But whether or not I allow myself to get down about those things (or any of the other pitiful goings-on out there), they will keep on being their ugly selves. So I do what I can. I break out into a funny jig once in a while. I smile for no reason. I pause for a few seconds to listen – to really listen – to the birds. It’s not much, but it moves the needle.


The world is going to keep on spinning, right up until it doesn’t. In all likelihood, neither you nor I will live long enough to see that happen. For us, we have today. Earth Day. I hope to make it count.





As Spring is in full-on attack mode, gnats are out of control around here.


I do not like gnats, y’all. They bug me beyond belief (no pun intended). They’re annoying and they make me crazy. And though I may be wrong about this, I’ve got it in my brain-hole that they’re dirty.


So instead of losing my mind to the mini-swarm that has taken over my house, I have turned to a home remedy that has served me well for a few years now: a gnat trap. Sadly, I don’t remember where I found this. I’m pretty sure it was on the interweb, but I don’t have a clue where. Anyhoo, it’s pretty easy and it really works!


Take a small cup or jar and put in a bit of apple cider vinegar. You only need a finger’s depth or so. Add a drop or two of liquid antibacterial dish soap. No need to stir. Then take a piece of paper and wrap it around onto itself, to form the shape of a funnel. You want it to sit down in the cup/jar, without allowing the paper to touch the liquid. If it does touch, just cut the bottom from the paper funnel.


That’s it! And just so you know, the photo below shows how many gnats were trapped after only a few hours:



That’s a lot of ugly gnats, yo! If you try this, let me know your results. And if you know this trap’s origin, pass that info on to me, please. I’d like to thank its creator.