monday.

today i made cookies but then our oven broke so i had to throw them away. can anyone fix my oven?

 

J.Walker and a banana I ate Thursday. At the time, this was so clever, I swear.

sunday.

Every time I have lunch at Panera Bread, I get too full and kind of sick.

Sandwich.

saturday again. sunday morning.

a cultural study.

b:

Daddy, Mommy:

 

 

Peanut Butter Banana Oatmeal Recipe

Ingredients-

• 1/2 cup regular rolled oats (not instant)
• 1 cup milk
• 1/2 banana
• 1-2 tbsp peanut butter
• sugar
• ground flaxseed

Directions: Put 1 cup milk, 1/2 cup oatmeal, and chopped up banana in a small saucepan over med-high heat. Stir until it starts bubbling and turn down heat to low-medium, about level 3-4. Let cook for about 5 minutes and stir once in awhile to make sure it’s not burning/sticking to the bottom of the pan. Once it’s thick, add in about 2 tsp. of sugar, a tbsp. of ground flax, and the peanut butter. Stir some more until p.b is melted. Pour into bowl, consume.

PS

Since there has been some confusion among blog readers:

NO, I did not eat that spam. Who do you think I am? Why would you think I would consider opening that can? Not only was it at least 5+ years old (maybe even leftover from the 1999 “Y2K Scare”), it was…spam. Frankly, friends and readers, I’m disappointed.

thursday.

This thing happens when I’m not working where I become lethargic. It’s kind of pitiful.  I just misspelled pitiful at first.

Lately I like yogurt a great deal. Brown Cow, cream top, plain. do it.

Additionally, I thought I’d mention that last night’s pumpkin pancake was a success. I took a picture of it, but the picture looks bad. It doesn’t do this pancake justice. I plan on making another one tonight, which I will photograph (after I plate it professionally, obviously). I put applesauce on top of last night’s pancake. I was going to attempt to justify this by saying that you put applesauce on a potato pancake, and pumpkins and potatoes are both vegetables, so this is okay. But then…no. That really doesn’t make sense.

wednesday.

I was flustered today.

Work was fussy, I was fussy. I bet it’s because I decided to be crazy and not have oatmeal for breakfast. That’s what I get for eating eggs. Speaking of oatmeal, my dad told me that he keeps finding small pieces of dry oatmeal scattered around our house. I find this hilarious, and I like to picture myself scattering it wherever I go, like fairy dust, since that’s what is normally scattered.

Tuesday.

Summer ‘08 is proving to be my Summer of Yoga. Yoga is great. Specifically, I enjoy Thursday morning Power Yoga at the YMCA. It’s intense. Seriously, I consider myself to be an in-shape (okay, moderately in-shape) individual, and this class is pretty hard. There is a wave of emotions involved in this class. It begins at its opening. It’s so easy. You’re a confident woman. You do that first downward dog pose, and it feels pretty good, even relaxing. Almost relaxing. Fast forward 20 minutes, to Sun Salutation/Downward Dog pose #50. Upset, tired, desperate. I will give my firstborn child to be done with this class. I want to go home. I want to be in the fetal position. However, miraculously, by the end of class (did I mention it’s 1.5 hours?!), I’m feeling good. I’m feeling fresh, happy, and there’s a spring in my step. Seriously, put me on a yoga infomercial. I can’t get enough. What I can get enough of is Tuesday yoga, in which the teacher really sucks, has no idea what she’s doing, and tries to get us all to meditate and do lame breathing exercises. Today was Tuesday yoga.   

Love: salty granola bars. Coffee in my Aztec mug.

Then I burned a piece of bacon into oblivion. It actually dissolved.

If this is going to be a food blog, I should probably preface it by saying that I’m a picky eater. Or, rather, I am perfectly satisfied consuming basically the same things every day. For example, my judgemental awesome friends mock me for always wanting to eat sandwiches. In my defense, sandwiches are great! They’re so versatile yet consistent! So delicious! Unfortunately, I’ve accepted that the majority of the world doesn’t think sandwiches (or oatmeal, or yogurt) are as exciting as I do. In this light, I might have chosen the wrong blog genre. Hey, I don’t care! Long live my boring food blog! I refuse to be stifled by social norms! I eat my bland foods, and I like them! If that’s so wrong, then I don’t want to be right.

Ishanee, do you have my blanket?

I could probably just ask you, but I thought I would turn this into an announcement that I am missing my navy monogrammed blanket and I really miss it. I’m fairly certain I left it in Austin, but maybe not.

Lifelong friendship award for the first person to guess what I had for breakfast. I was going to offer cash money, but…no.

sunday, spam

Today I really wanted a Dr. Pepper. I usually drink diet soda, because I like to live life on the edge and risk the potential cancer risk that aspartame provides. A well balanced diet. 

Also, my dad likes to keep Spam on hand in case of a nuclear holocaust. I thought that this can of Spam both deserved a photo (it’s been sitting in our pantry for years without attention) and would make the perfect supplement to this blog entry:

 

PS GUESS WHAT LEGALLY BLONDE IS ON RIGHT NOW AGAIN.

“New Braunfels Confessions”

This is kind of embarassing, but I’ve seen the movie Legally Blonde quite a few times. Probably more than 10. In my defense, it’s played ALL THE TIME. At any given point, it’s probably on 2 channels. You can quote me on that. Additionally, it’s a decent movie: Reese Witherspoon is so legit, and you have to admit that at the end, when Elle wins her case, it’s just so…fulfilling. No? Okay, the point of this story is that today when I was at work, we got this sample of some sort of chutney product. Obviously, this reminded me of Legally Blonde, because Brooke Windom’s daughter-in-law, who turns out to be the guilty one, who is clearly wearing some sort of wig…her name is Chutney. THEN, today when I got home, what is playing on TBS? Legally Blonde. Yep. Full circle, it was.

thursday

 I frequent thursday power yoga classes at the local YMCA. I am also usually the youngest one in the class by a good 20 years, which is both entertaining (they treat me like i don’t speak english, i swear, am i the first college student they’ve ever met?) and depressing (they are better than me at yoga). However, today when we were on what seemed like round #400 of Sun Salutations, the old woman in front of me farted and I laughed outloud because I’m immature. However, I’ve deduced that I (literally) got the last laugh in this situation because though they have better posture than me and are freakishly flexible, at least I still have conscious control of my bowels.

This happened:

 

The picture above is my favorite. Matt Lindley says she’s listening to him whisper “sweet nothings into her ear,” to which I point and laugh at you, Matt.

wednesday, 8:00 AM

To begin, I have a story that is a rollercoaster of emotions. And, as an added bonus, it’s 100% true.

I began my summer with a beach trip. On this particular beach trip, I ate shrimp, did NOT swim in the ocean (i swear, saltwater INCINERATES my skin. it’s unhealthy), and also gained the company of (1) rainbow hair wrap (I also bought a kite, which coincidentally, is also rainbow. But that’s still in the trunk of my car). For the past month, this hair wrap has been with me through thick and thin-going with me to work, restaurants, the grocery store, and even on frustrating and lengthy trips to the post office. It has also decided to become a parasite and take over the rest of my head. Incapable of washing/combing it’s area (it now encompasses it’s own mass, not just strands of hair), a giant tangle takes over a significant portion of my head. 

The rational solution: cut out the hair wrap.

The irrational/my solution: keep the hair wrap in all summer.

This hair wrap is part of me. Plus, I might as well put off the substantial bald spot I will have for as long as possible. This photo does not do the damage justice, but trust me: it’s bad.

 

To close, yesterday I went to the Dollar General and a small part of my soul died when I saw pickle-flavored lunch meat.