Have iPod, SPF, My Life in France, journal, sunglasses, Dreams From my Father, snacks, flipflops, Foreign Affairs. Have boyfriend. Have dress. Have wedding to attend. Be back Monday with photos.
Meanwhile, stick around. There’s some stuff lined up around these parts.
Gakked from Deb, though I switched in a graham cracker crust and added a coconut topping to cover up the weird-looking parts. This was delicious, if I do say so myself, although even with a serious amount of refrigeration it was pretty runny and sticky when I cut it up. Anybody out there know how to keep pies pretty, even in the serving?
Abbey made coconut ice cream. Mari made margaritas. Lisa and Christy made the best fajitas of my whole life. Ladies, you continue to bowl me over with your general awesomeness. See you in a month.
Totally on the list of things I am going to eat when I get back from Mexico:
IT’S GROSS I KNOW. I’M SORRY. I have officially turned into the trashiest of trashy New Englanders; somewhere out there my mother is shaking her head in disgust and saying, “Oh, Kate. I raised you better than that.”
True story: the picture is so small because I was worried if I uploaded the big one you’d never come back to this blog again.
Brunched and dinnered and cooked and baked and packed and watched (disturbing: the guy in The Wackness is Josh from Drake and Josh! Truly upsetting cognitive dissonance) and read and napped and chatted and churched and book clubbed.
Tonight: flip-flop shopping, and The West Wing on dvd. Word.
001. UH, excuse me, did you know that this was a thing?
If you did, WHY have you not told me about it? Whatever, it doesn’t matter, I can’t even be bothered to muster up any anger, because I am too busy imagining myself on the day I get home from Mexico with half gallons of all three flavors (YES, they make Tagalong kind and Thin Mint kind also, I KNOW) and a tablespoon. Or a trowel.
002. It is FRIDAY, which could theoretically be on the list every week, but this week in particular it means Thai with Abbey and Mari, followed by brunch with Haney and dinner with Leslie and BOOK CLUB (I’m making a key lime pie with a coconut topping, because the theme of my book club this month is “margaritas”. See also: my book club is awesome) and trying to navigate some computer stuff and PACKING and maybe an art project because I am feeling itchy that way and maybe The Wackness, which I got from Netflix but am not terribly optimistic about. Anyway, the point is, today is the mother of all Fridays, and I am so glad to wave it a hello.
003. Tom picked me up at the T last night because it was pouring rain and I was soaking wet and bedraggled, even though it meant losing his Hollywood parking spot in front of the house, which like, if you know Tom, he takes his parking spots REALLY SERIOUSLY. And then he listened to me talk about how I am going to invent hand socks all the way home (HAND SOCKS: the wave of the future. One day I will tell you all about my plan for them. And also how I want to start a Boston-based cold weather accessory company called Witch’s T*t that sells both hand socks and winter hats with ponytail holes in the back. But that day is not TOday).
004. Bethany: Game Change is awesome and smarmy and SO SCANDALOUS. I love so much about the things it chooses to be. Also it says the nastiest things about Elizabeth Edwards, and I LOVE Elizabeth Edwards, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what a crazy biotch she really is. And it totally confirms Michelle’s status as Our Number One Awesome No Bullshit Heroine Tied With Beyonce and Lady Gaga.
005. My sister is seeing John Mayer tonight. I told her to make sure and call me during the good parts, though I probably didn’t need to. We have been calling each other during the good parts for 22 years.
It’s safe to say that the checkout clerk at the library did not know exactly what to make of me. I just have really diverse tastes in media, OKAY?
Other Thursday randomness:
001. Kim, who is cool, gave me an award on her blog this week! Kim is a rock star for many reasons, not the least of which is that she’s the one who taught me about putting salsa on chicken in the crockpot, which I did last night (plus black beans and cheddar cheese over whole wheat pasta; an ugly dinner, to be sure, but an absolutely delicious one). Anyway, thanks Kim! You are a total peach.
002. I’m doing the gradual self-tanner stuff. It smells like tarter sauce, and I am still ghost white, but my hope is that by next Tuesday I will look as Italian as my last name suggests I am. Or, alternately, as Italian as my sister looks in her prom photos. ALSO, yesterday I got my hair cut and the hairdresser told me all about how he is going to a clothing-optional resort in Fort Lauderdale on Sunday. He also told me that I look like Anne Hathaway and that Tom is a lucky man. I was like, right on, dude. You GO to that clothing-optional resort.
003. Things I have recently signed up for: Big Brothers Big Sisters, and an American Express Blue card. I also bought two pairs of shorts off the Abercrombie Kids website. Don’t judge me.
004. Shutter Island: stupid. Nothing Like the Holidays: also stupid, but super enjoyable. Katie Goes to Mexico, my new iTunes playlist: decidedly not stupid.
Happy Thursday. I am roaring ahead like a cross-country train.
Apples, bananas, and oranges with some chocolate chips zapped in the micro. Instant fondue.
Have also dipped: pears, and Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies.
Oh MY, this was a good fruit salad. No small feat, considering we are in the miserable throes of a New England February: the farmer’s market is a distant memory, and Stop + Shop produce is all hideously expensive and anemic-looking. But I wanted to make something fresh and light for Tom’s birthday brunch, so I went to Deb for suggestions: while her winter fruit salad is a thing of great and terrible beauty, I futzed with it some (I am, by nature, a futzer).
You will need: 3 gala apples (chopped) + 2 green pears (also chopped) + 1 red pear (keep chopping) + a handful of golden raisins + a handful of dates (pitted and cut in half) + a handful of walnuts + 1 tablespoon of brown sugar + 1 teaspoon of good vanilla. Put everything in a giant bowl and mix it up with clean hands.
Share with friends. Or sit on the couch with the whole bowl in your lap, which is what I am planning to do when I make this again tomorrow morning.
Steak and scrambled eggs with broccoli, onions, and cheese; parmesan scones; Meg’s baked french toast; and the best fruit salad I have ever made (details tomorrow). And obviously: coffee. And also booze.
Plus there was shopping! And couch-cuddling! And Band of Brothers on HBO!
Happy birthday, Tom Colleran. I love you so effing much.
1. I wiped out HARD CORE on some ice outside my apartment this morning (I mean, of course I did), but my coffee emerged completely upright and unscathed. Amazing, right? My knee might be sporting a purple bump the size of a golf ball, but I am happily caffeinated, and clearly that is all that matters. Plus I think bruises make me look kind of badass. At least that’s what I tell myself when I fall down.
2. Nefarious sidewalk glaciers not withstanding, I got my first whiff of spring last night. It was still kind of light when I got home, and everything on the street smelled fresh and wet. It’s coming. I just know it. Am imagining flowers and herbs and garden parties in preparation. Which reminds me: does anybody out there have a recommendation for a good book about container gardening? Am determined that THIS will be the year I don’t kill everything I try to grow.
3. “Making shapes” is a Tom expression. It means getting a move on. “Ooh, it’s late. I gotta make shapes.” Or “I made real shapes on that project today.” In any case, I may or may not have made serious writing shapes yesterday, and even if nothing comes of it I am feeling pretty good. I love the smell of productivity in the morning, and all that.
4. Speaking of Tom, he is turning twenty-five on Sunday. You guys. My boyfriend is a quarter-century old. Yowza. To celebrate: steak and eggs brunch at our house tomorrow morning, followed by a fancy dinner one night next week. He’s a nerd so he’s working on his birthday. I might or might not bring him some cupcakes.
5. Two weeks from today I will be sitting on a beach in Mexico, drinking Coronas and sunning myself, possibly with one of those big reflective cardboard things girls used in the eighties. If that isn’t good news, then I just don’t know what is.
Happy weekend! Also, thanks for all your sweetness about my secret lives. I so loved reading about yours.
