Starting Over.

This blog gets further and further away from Venice, but I promise, on my honor, the next post will be about my beach city life.

But this post is about Idaho. and weddings. and my summer vacation. which lasted a whole 6 days. That's a really long time when you're not in school. I remember thinking about how summer vacations seemed endless when I was in highschool and college, and toward the end, I just wanted to be back at school with my friends and starting something new. Not a chance, now. That 6 days was gone in the blink of an eye.

There's still the excitement of starting something new, though. My good friends Alex and Liz are starting their new marriage together, Fall is starting, and football is starting, and I am starting over. I'm turning over new leaves, making new promises to myself, vowing to start (another) diet, and stop sugar-coating things (literally and figuratively), and thinking about starting a new blog (or two). More on that later.

I'm excited to get started with starting things.
But in the meantime, here are a few pretty pictures of my vacation, and my pretty friends, and a pretty wedding in pretty Sun Valley, Idaho.

You're invited.

Bridesmaid dresses and gilded shoes.

Like I said, I have pretty friends.

There never was a more handsome group of Fantasy Football nerds.

The blushing bride.

Team Midnight. And John.

Team Mist!

Congratulations Alex & Liz!

On Food, Love, & Life.

 "Cooking is like love; it should be entered into with complete abandon, or not at all." - Julia Child


Sometimes I'm afraid people read my blog and think my life is too good to be true.

Truthfully, its pretty darn good, so I can't complain, but its not perfect, and neither am I. To prove my point (in case you missed the last post about my dubious experience with criminals), I want reveal one of my many  flaws:

I'm an emotional eater/cook. Some people drink. Some people do drugs. I cook and eat. I cook when I'm happy. I cook when I'm sad. I sometimes cook when I'm angry, or jealous, or bored. It doesn't sound like that big a deal, but when you've had a hard day at work or a fight with a friend, and then you cope by purchasing $68 worth of groceries for one night's dinner, it can become a problem.  On not-so rare occasions, I've then gone home, prepared an elaborate meal that took 3 hours to cook, and a) eaten all of it in one sitting, or b) been too tired to eat more than a few bites. Neither one of these is a good situation (unless you happen to be my roommate in scenario b).

It goes without saying, the more upset or anxious or sad I am, the more intricate the recipe I will probably attempt to make. There's something about cooking that's therapeutic. There's something calming in knowing that even if I can't make my relationships turn out right, I can take 15 ingredients and combine them into something that's going to turn out perfectly. Or at least, its supposed to turn out perfectly.

But things don't always go as planned. Sometimes even the best planned meals burn, or turn out too salty or bland. And sometimes the ones that you throw together at the last minute with whatever is left in your fridge wind up being the best. And sometimes it just takes practice.

Practice reducing a sauce with heavy cream and wine so its not too runny, but also so it doesn't turn into congealed goop.

Practice searing a meat so its flavorful and done, but not dry and tough.

Practice makes food perfect. Except when it doesn't. That's when you sigh,  order thai food take out, and hope it works out better the next time.

There's not always a perfect recipe to make food turn out just right. There sure isn't a recipe for life and relationships.

You just chop, and dice, and sautee, and simmer, and cross your fingers.

And sometimes, just sometimes, its perfect.

                                                                          ~

Below is one of my favorite comfort food recipes, that I stole adapted from my good friend and ex-roommate Liz (she's the author of Twenty-Something). This recipe always makes me feel better. It's something about the richness of wine and heavy cream and the summer-y taste of lemons and artichokes. Enjoy!

Lemon & Rosemary Chicken in White Wine Cream Sauce

Words From My Mother

My mother taught me pretty much everything I know, and not a day goes by that I don't hear things in my head that she said to me when I was growing up. She is a strong, funny, smart and beautiful woman, and as I get older, I appreciate her more and more, and I'm increasingly grateful for, and in awe of how much she put up with me.

Some classic gems that I remember her saying during my childhood were,

"No fighting! You better put those fists away!" (This was usually directed at my brothers.)

"Ahem? Attitude adjustment, Missy?"** (I heard this phrase about once a day from ages 8 to 18.)

 "Don't lick your ice cream bowl, Sweetheart; that's very unbecoming." (same goes for this one. In my defense, my Dad says it's okay.)

"What's up, Peanut-Butter-Sandwich-Cookie?  (term of endearment)

"Walk in love."

I have lots more quotes, ranging from "Go upstairs and change." to "Have you lost your ever-loving mind?!" but the last one listed is one that has really stuck with me. It's one that my Mom you used to say when I came home from school crying because girls were mean, or when I was frustrated with my siblings, and I have to admit that sometimes it felt trite and overused. It wasn't until I was older that I really understood what it meant.

I watched my mother for years, making sacrifices, doing things that were hard for her, and putting herself last, and I used to wonder why, and think that I could never be that selfless. I finally realized that the driving force behind those sacrifices was how much she loved my me and my siblings, and other people in general.

My mom is one of the most loving, and forgiving people I know, so when I hear her say "Walk in love" it's something I know she lives everyday. I've seen her go out of her way to make sure a single mother at our church had money for diapers. My mom once rescued a hooker from a pimp on a bicycle.  And if you think that's wild, she once made me a Big Bird cake from scratch, and threw a New Kids on the Block-themed pool party for my cousin, while 8-months pregnant with my sister, all while my Dad was deployed to Saudi Arabia.

If that's not walking in love, then I don't know what is. Last year, I got those words tattooed on my foot, to remind me to be patient, and kind, and loving with people, even when it's not easy.

I strive to be like my mother more and more everyday. She's an inspiration to me and I hope that one day I can be half as good of a mother, wife, friend, teacher, and woman as she is.

Me and my role model, Joy Angela Royston.

**Another runner-up phrase to this one was brought up frequently when I would cop an attitude and put my hands on my hips. My mom would glance at me and say, "Take your hands off your imagination, girl." Suffice it to say, I was a bean-pole for many years before I developed this um, somewhat-voluptuous figure.