Sometimes I like Taylor Swift. Not live though, definitely not live. She’s terrible.
From Begin Again
Took a deep breath in the mirror
He didn’t like it when I wore high heels
But I do
Turn the lock and put my headphones on
He always said he didn’t get this song
But I do, I do
Walked in expecting you’d be late
But you got here early and you stand and wave
I walk to you
You pull my chair out and help me in
And you don’t know how nice that is
But I do
And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid
I think it’s strange that you think I’m funny ’cause he never did
I’ve been spending the last eight months
Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end
But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again
From Lang Leav’s Lullabies
It’s true. I wasn’t ok for a long time. I felt the loss every single moment of every single day. In the morning, when I drank coffee, because we loved coffee. During the day, when I browsed through Instagram, because I would always screenshot him pictures of Chow Chows. At night, when I would cuddle with Yosh, because he was ours. The pain was so excruciating at times and seemed to be never ending. Eventually I became numb to the pain and just went through the motions. It wasn’t until I realized that the losing “us” shouldn’t mean losing myself as well, that I finally started to heal.
HW + KC is no more.
It’s just KC and I’m ok with that.
Ever since I broke out my vegetable spiraler, I’ve been kind of obsessed with zoodles. I’ve made it for lunch numerous times, all with red meat sauce. Buuuttt, I’m really not supposed to have tomato based sauces since, ya know, that acid reflux thing. I’d like to say I’m a “fuck it, I do what I want” kind of person, but in this case, heartburn is a real bitch and something I’d like to not experience frequently. So, of course I was super excited to find a healthy recipe on Instagram that would allow me to have my beloved zoodles without the burn!
Creamy Chicken Zoodles
The sauce is just mashed avocado mixed with almond milk and pinch of salt and pepper. If you wanna kick things up a notch, add red pepper flakes and Sriracha (I put that shit on everything, screw Frank’s).
In my almost 30 years of existence, I’ve only made pancakes twice. The first was for an ex, who I was trying to surprise with breakfast in bed. I forgot the occasion (valentine’s birthiversary or whatever), but it doesn’t matter because the pancakes were terrible. Just God awful. Needless to say, I didn’t exactly rush to try again.
As I browsed the internet for breakfast recipes last week, I came across a recipe for flourless pancakes. And the best part? Only 2 ingredients: eggs and a banana! Sold!
My 2nd attempt…TADAAAAA!
Ok, so I did tweak the recipe a bit. I added powdered peanut butter and ground cinnamon into the “batter” and then opted to smear TJ Speculoos & Cocoa Swirl instead of light butter. Can’t make it too healthy, ya know?
Love doesn’t always go the way we hope, but that doesn’t mean we can stop living. It doesn’t mean love isn’t a beautiful thing.
- One Lavender Ribbon
As a kid, I loved to read. I would sit and read on the library floor for hours and then go home and read some more. But as I got older, I made excuses not to read.
Piano (not really). Cheerleading practice. Friends. Movies. Parties. School (not really). Parties. Work. Parties. Gym.
Now I’ve come full circle and I can’t imagine my days without reading. I read before I go to bed, on weekend mornings while eating breakfast, and on breaks from studying. Maybe it’s because I live alone. Maybe it’s because I don’t have cable. Or maybe I’m getting back to basics and focusing on things that I truly love to do. I’ll take the latter.
Reading has provided me such comfort and much needed emotional release during this time in my life. It has given me hope when things looked really bleak. One Lavender Ribbon, in particular, has given me newfound strength to move forward and live a life that I’m proud of. My life. Because life is precious and it’s to be lived.
I’m crushing in middle age. That’s pretty much it. I’m middle aged, married, and crushing on a friend. And it’s full blown, just like in high school, sweaty palms, distracted, giddy, the whole she-bang. So far it has gone no farther than flirting and I really, really know better. My question isn’t what should I do (I’m pretty clear I should behave), but what should I do with all this delightful but distressing energy?
Steer clear of the object of your crush and use that “delightful but distressing energy” to reinvest in what matters most to you—your marriage, it seems. Do something extra sweet for your spouse this week. Have sex tonight and make it hella hot and good. Go for a long walk or a lingering dinner together and lovingly discuss how you’re going to keep your love as well as your romance strong. You’re clear you don’t want to act on your crush, so trust that clarity and be grateful that you have it, sweet pea. My inbox is jammed with emails from people who are not so clear. They’re tortured by indecision and guilt and lust. They love X but want to fuck Z. It is the plight of almost every middle aged monogamous married person at one time or another. We all love X but want to fuck Z.
Z is so gleaming, so crystalline, so unlikely to bitch at you for neglecting to take out the recycling. Nobody has to haggle with Z. Z doesn’t wear a watch. Z is like a motorcycle with no one on it. Beautiful. Going nowhere.
- Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar
Well ain’t that the truth…