My dog is right now sitting up on top of the couch cushions at my left shoulder. I must admit, I'm using his ass as a nice comfy head rest. I watched three new Maria Bamford shows today (can't believe I missed that many!), and the best was the last one where she tells the emergency vet what relation she is to Blossom the pug:
"We're life partners. She's my wife. We're wives."
check it out: http://www.superdeluxe.com/sd/artist/maria_bamford
If only Chip were a girl, he'd be my wife. But at this point, he has to live with the high distinction of head rest.
This week's blog is expressly dedicated to Maria Bamford, for whom I gave my email address to some random website that might convince her to come to Minneapolis, MN. We're currently in second place behind Portland. We deserve Maria much more than those cakeaters. (actually, I know nothing of portlandeers, nor their preference in pastries).
Go and "demand" her yourself, friends! Portland has 39 demands and I made mpls a close 2nd with 38. You can tip the scales! It's not like you have to give out your bank account or ssn ... just your email address. That shit is always quite easy to unsubscribe from.
http://eventful.com/performers/maria-bamford/music-/P0-001-000009214-3
And finally, since you brought up pastries, I must inform you of my new favorite bakery: The Bakers Wife. Yummmmmmmy. It's at the corner of 28th Ave and 42nd st. in South Mpls. It's this tiny little rectangle positively overflowing with flaky, sweet, crunchy, chewy pastry goodness. I got the "Creme Brulee" pastry and it was so custardy and buttery I just wanted to keep eating it. I'm still daydreaming about it. And their croissants (which I immediately recognized as the ones I get at Nokomis coffee shop) are very unique - a bit more substantive outer crust than some croissant purists might like, but I love them. And they're huge. If you're a south-minneapolite, you really should check it out. Call me and I'll go with you. Oh, and Chris loves the crispy/crumby homemade doughnuts we get at Nokomis coffee shop, which I can only assume also come from The Baker's Wife. I must say, the baker's wifey - she knows a good pastry when she makes one.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Mmm. Peas.
I've noticed that the best I've gotten at blogging is once per month at best... I missed Jan by just a few days. I'll try to get to at least once a week...
Something that made me giggle out loud:
http://www.mcsweeneys.net/2008/1/28liebert.html
My favorite:
MY PET PEEVES...
When a can of cheap peas says "Pea Color and Size May Vary" and inside there's just one giant blue pea.
Hah! I hate that. But I do have a passionate love affair with peas. I'll eat them right out of the can without even heating them. Well, I haven't done that in a while... but I'm not against it.
We finally went to "Common Roots" coffee shop today on Lyndale and 26th st. I would love to leave the cubicle farm behind one day and own a little cafe/restaurant/bar. I would have the best breakfast burritos on the block. And there would be yummy red wine and it would be served in little glass tumblers instead of wine glasses. And we wouldn't serve miller or budweiser products. But where? and when? And how much do I need to save up to start something like that? And how would I actually "do" it, considering I've never even worked in a restaurant, let alone learned how to run one. It makes me wonder if I should get a second job working at a bar or restaurant, just to get closer to learning the biz.
Don't worry, I won't serve cold canned peas. BUT I would serve my mother's wonderful creamed peas recipe in the springtime when there are peas at the farmer's markets. It can't be those stupid new peas that you don't have to shell. I don't get those. It's got to be the real peas that our grandmothers shelled on the porch at the farm. Not that I actually have my own memories of my grandmother on any sort of farm, but I have a romantic vision of women rocking on an old wooden porch swing in the setting sunlight on a warm and breezy late spring evening with a red bowl sitting between them as the dog snatches discarded pea shells. That was quite the run-on sentence. Nice.
Something that made me giggle out loud:
http://www.mcsweeneys.net/2008/1/28liebert.html
My favorite:
MY PET PEEVES...
When a can of cheap peas says "Pea Color and Size May Vary" and inside there's just one giant blue pea.
Hah! I hate that. But I do have a passionate love affair with peas. I'll eat them right out of the can without even heating them. Well, I haven't done that in a while... but I'm not against it.
We finally went to "Common Roots" coffee shop today on Lyndale and 26th st. I would love to leave the cubicle farm behind one day and own a little cafe/restaurant/bar. I would have the best breakfast burritos on the block. And there would be yummy red wine and it would be served in little glass tumblers instead of wine glasses. And we wouldn't serve miller or budweiser products. But where? and when? And how much do I need to save up to start something like that? And how would I actually "do" it, considering I've never even worked in a restaurant, let alone learned how to run one. It makes me wonder if I should get a second job working at a bar or restaurant, just to get closer to learning the biz.
Don't worry, I won't serve cold canned peas. BUT I would serve my mother's wonderful creamed peas recipe in the springtime when there are peas at the farmer's markets. It can't be those stupid new peas that you don't have to shell. I don't get those. It's got to be the real peas that our grandmothers shelled on the porch at the farm. Not that I actually have my own memories of my grandmother on any sort of farm, but I have a romantic vision of women rocking on an old wooden porch swing in the setting sunlight on a warm and breezy late spring evening with a red bowl sitting between them as the dog snatches discarded pea shells. That was quite the run-on sentence. Nice.
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