Or, the time I went on a four-hour whale watching trip and puked into the Pacific. The signs were there that things might not go well. A final note: I’m absolutely going to go whale watching again–properly medicated. But if you come with me, just don’t stand too close.
James and I had a fun conversation about where we’d eat in Houston if we could magically be transported there. You’ll see the abbreviated list below, and it includes places that are no longer in business. Because why not. Yes, this is a bit of homesickness creeping in (hence the focus on comfort food). We don’t missContinue reading “le menu”
Often on our treks through hill and dale we encounter benches in the middle of nowhere. Not just places to sit, the benches are memorials inscribed with names of the departed. Sometimes they’re tucked away in a quiet corner at a turn in the trail, and sometimes they look out on a spectacular view at the edge of theContinue reading “benches”
When you can’t find frozen margaritas and queso, make it yo’self. Yes, yes, I know frozen margaritas are not the best way to enjoy your tequila, and the climate here isn’t even remotely right for that kind of icy drank, but come on. Nostalgia doesn’t give a shit. Before moving, James and I ate Tex-Mex on FridayContinue reading “tastes of home”
It’s not Martha’s fault. Not really. I mean, her recipe specified a “medium” saucepan for the boiling water to which I was to add a steady stream of cornmeal. Maybe one person’s medium is the next felon’s large. I’ve been cooking for a long time, so I should be capable of determining what size panContinue reading “that’ll leave a mark”
We had our monthly birthday celebration at the office last week. It involved queso, margaritas and music. And also champagne. At the end of the party, there was a half bottle of champagne that had no home. Couldn’t let it go to waste–renew, reuse, recycle–so I took it home with me. I’m all about safetyContinue reading “co-pilot”
In an odd (but not uncommon) meeting of the minds, James and I separately purchased the above two items. He bought the Ole Smoky moonshine at Spec’s, and I picked up the Old South pickled eggs at the grocery store. Perhaps this relates to a subtle desire to get back to the land. To simplify.Continue reading “hillbilly renaissance”