SignOn.org Beta - Tell Obama to Cease FDA Ties to Monsanto
If you watched Food, Inc. YOU KNOW you should sign this petition.
So important! I recommend watching the documentary King Corn (in addition to Food Inc.) if you’re looking for incentive to sign this petition.
My work stash. Please note that this is over half a pound of chocolate.
A girl has to have her bases covered.
In which Braden makes coffee.
- B: Where's the hell is the French press?!?!
- Me: Did you try looking next to the bed? On my side?
- B: Grrrrrr! Next to all those water glasses?
- Me: ... Yeah?
- B: One day, maybe five, maybe ten years from now, people won't hear from us for a week. And they'll come to the house and find us in bed, slain, with the entire contents of our kitchen stuffed underneath your side of the bed.
- Me: We're going to kill each other?
- B: No ...
- Me: You're going to kill me?
- B: And I'll go with you.
Making a chocolate rum cake with mocha mascarpone frosting, covered with bittersweet Scharffen Berger chocolate curls. Like you do.
Here’s hoping.
Getting there.
All this week has been really hard. The week started rough, with me lying in bed in the early hours of Sunday morning, heart palpitating out of my chest. The week itself was only moderately lousy, but I felt as if it had been much worse. The depression that I’ve been trying to dispell by pretending it doesn’t exist came crashing down on my head and I was so in it I didn’t notice until B commented and said he was worried. I tried to snap myself out of it, but to no avail. I guess this isn’t that kind of funk.
Not to mention that my hormones have been crazy. But I’ll spare you the gory details.
You can always tell that it’s a rough week when my house is a wreck, which it is. (To those friends who were here last night, who might not think so, did you notice how dark the house was last night? Yeah, that was strategic.) When I’m down, things that are ordinarily very important to me start to exhaust me.
Last night, after guests had gone home (Friday night is pizza and Project Runway at our place), I was lying on the couch, about to fall asleep, but feeling too tired to put fresh linens on the bed. B got up to do it for me, and after a while, I noticed it was taking him a lot longer than it should have. I walked into the bedroom to find that he had made the bed nicely, started my electric blanket, filled my hot water bottle and tidied up all the mess in the room—95% of which was mine. I curled up with my book and felt more right with the world than I have in over a week. Sometimes you really just need to be tucked into bed.
I woke up this morning and it was actually sunny outside. When I can get out of bed, which, admittedly, could take a long time, I think it’s going to be a good day.
Write it. Shoot it. Publish it. Crochet it, sauté it, whatever. MAKE.
—Joss Whedon (via misswallflower)
(via ilovereadingandwriting)
Sent to me by Bekah with the caption “Amy Poehler is sometimes you.”
This probably has something to do with the fact that I asked B for a miniature horse for Christmas. If you knew how serious I was, you would probably be concerned.
(Source: setfiretotherain-, via flapperorslapper)
You know what those Candaians are like—you can never tell how old they are. Maybe they’re nineteen, maybe they’re fifty-seven … who knows.
—my mother
