Tag Archives: summer

Blues Fest

On Fridays as of late I’ve been taking it pretty easy with my posts . . . and I see no reason to stop today. It’s hot . . . I’m hot . . . and sweating reduces my brain power by about 95.4%.

Yes, it’s supposed to top 90 degrees today, though whether my underarms will be subject to a hideous 91 or a hideouser 98, weather.com and the National Weather Service have yet to agree on. Looks like this web-based weather reporting is quite inconsistent. One might even call it . . . fair weather.

Hahaha–get it? Fair weather weather reporting? Sometimes I’m just too funny for my own self to handle.

Also, the word ‘weather’ is seriously starting to freak me out. Just type it twenty times and you’ll see exactly what I mean. Then we can freak out together.

Anyway, all this explains in some way why this morning I decided to just toss out some pictures of our afternoon at Blues Fest a couple weekends ago with some of our college friends.

There’s something about college friends–even though I graduated 7 years ago and only stay in touch with these guys sporadically, there’s a connection that remains strong. A sense of ease, of not having to prove anything. It’s chill, man. And this feeling extends to all of our college crowd: whether it was Kristina and Jen swinging through Chicago last summer, our friend Hayley dropping in for an evening visit during a stint with the CDC, hanging out with Tom, Ben, and Sarah, or playing in the snow with Julie and Zane, there’s this comfortable, hang-loose quality to our time with all of them that has the same wonderful flavor.

But anyway.

The last music festival I went to was Austin City Limits. I love music fests: the bared midriffs. The sweet smell of weed wafting across the crowd. That group of middle aged women, slightly drunk, celebrating a 50th birthday and dancing with their arms swaying above their heads. The smuggled bottles of wine and beer covertly removed from picnic baskets and bags. The general goodwill in the air. The feeling of just being, as the sun and the music take over your body and your brain floats away.

I also photographed my feet so that you can see how my pedicure was faring about 3 weeks after the fact.

We chatted with our friends . . . we ate bread and olives and scrumptious crackers courtesy of Sarah . . .

. . . and just reveled in being young. And alive.

I love the summer. Except for the 91-98 degrees part.

Have a great 4th of July weekend, all ye Americanos out there!

Culinary goals for the summer months

*Picture above: completely random. Relevance of that image to this post: zero. But aren’t my Dad and sister looking especially adorable?

During the summer I tend to fall off the cooking wagon. A combination of travel plans, weird summer schedule type things, and the anti-stove sentiments that one experiences on a hot day all merge together, and somehow when September rolls around I realize in amazement that I don’t remember having cooked a single dang thing. This is already starting to happen, as the only meal I’ve cooked in the past ten days has been that Beef Stroganoff I shared with y’all yesterday.

This summer, things shall be different. So I have set some culinary goals for myself that are designed to:

a) Make me stay on track

b) Make you make me stay on track

c) Provide clear guidelines for the guilt trip I will engage in when, in fact, I achieve none of the stated objectives

d) Provide clear guidelines for the invectives/reprimands/diatribes you will heap upon me when, in fact, I achieve none of the stated objectives

So help me help you help me, folks. Here we go:

1. Make a birthday cake for my husband. Yes, his birthday was back in March, but somehow this delusional man is under the impression that I owe him two Barefoot Contessa glazed lemon cakes. I was pretty sure I had done something awesome that reduced my debt to only one of these cakes, so we need to hash that out amongst the two of us. But I’ve really got to hunker down and get a cake plan going, because if not, the age of 105 will find us side by side on a couch masticating our dentures and arguing at the top of our feeble old lungs: “But you owe me twooooo cakes! Twooooo cakes I tell ya!” *swat* “But diddn’ I do sumthin’ and now I just owe ya ooooone? I think it’s just oooooone!” *spank* “Whaaaaat? Whadja say old woman?” *spank*

2. Get around to making Biltong. It’s not that hard, children, I tell myself. And then I go sit on the couch instead.

3. Months ago, I created a page that divides my recipes into categories. Two of those categories have remained conspicuously empty: Pizza and Sandwiches. I find this very ironic, since my husband’s favorite food is pizza. And his favorite ‘on the go’ food is Potbelly’s Classic Italian sandwich. However, since I rule the stove, I gravitate towards my favorites–Asian food. Stir fries. Things with mushrooms. Mine, mine, mine! I can’t help associating sandwiches with the oh-so-boring lunch my paternal grandparents had every single day. They were wonderful people–but perhaps lacked a certain culinary inclination? I need to overcome my sandwich hangups, because there really are some great creations out there I could replicate, to the ooohs and aaahs of the man in my life. Sigh.

Thus endeth the list–and now, please participate in a campaign of constant nagging until I get this stuff done.

Love,

The Hopefully Soon-to-be Birthday Cake-Making Machine