Ingredients (serves 4 as a side dish):
4 red bliss potatoes
1 T olive oil
1 T rosemary
1 T ground plack pepper
1/2 T salt
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Slice washed potatoes into triangular bite-size pieces.
2. In a large bowl, mix sliced potatoes and the next 4 ingredients with your hands, making sure to coat all potatoes evenly.
3. Spread seasoned potatoes on an aluminum covered cookie pan, place in oven, and cook for one hour. Enjoy!
When Pretty in Pink first crashed and I could not bring her back to life myself, I went to the old school tool: the phone book. Not the online version on my phone or anything, but the classic Yellow Pages. How fabulous. I tore out the two pages of businesses under “Computer Repair” and selected “Grave Robber Computer Repair” because I loved the name. If that one didn’t work out, I’d check the loose pages in my purse and venture to the next shop.
I picked up little pink mini me and was off on my way. I arrived in front of a tiny storefront that had a sign indicating it was indeed the right spot, but more curiously, banners across the front windows shouting “FREE BOOKS!!!” As a lover of literature, I was even more elated I’d blindly decided on this establishment.
I walked inside…perhaps a 10×12 room, books stacked on all sides to the 13-ft. ceiling and almost half that height in the center. The only floor space besides a few feet around the door was behind the horizontal book stacks on the table in front of me, so high I could barely see over to what was directly ahead: a seasoned man on a bicycle—not a stationary bike, but a real bicycle mounted to the floor—riding away. He motioned for me to wait a moment, and I awkwardly stood there for a few minutes so he could finish/pause his workout and dry off while I perused his books.
He was able to get mini-me alive enough to run some tests which would take a few hours before he’d know whether it was fixable. He said he’d get back to me as soon as he had the diagnosis; he handed me a pen and an unopened envelope of mail that he struggled to find so I could write down my info. Bizarre business operative style, but I believed he knew what he was doing.
Anthony was punctual about getting back to me later that afternoon and very detailed in explaining what my options were because my hard drive had completely gone to the grave. He saved all of my data (I didn’t have everything backed up) on a flash drive, and the next day, I went to pick that up for $75, along with my mini’s corpse.*
He was on the bike again, I waited again, and then I asked him about the books. It turns out he collected them off of the street, books that people were throwing away, because he couldn’t bear the thought of people throwing away literature. Over the years, he’s given books to friends he thought would enjoy them, but he still has sooo many to give away. They are mostly fiction bestsellers—including several from the famous author who bought the house I grew up in—and some not-so-well known titles, but all-in-all, I think the story is intriguing. The eclectic Anthony wasn’t sure where he’d placed my hard drive amongst the stacks, so I have to return to the shop this weekend to retrieve that. I plan on taking several books home, too. What a fascinating world of people we live in!
*While my baby did not want to come back from the grave, she did let A have her info. [Always back up your data and write down all of your passwords in case you die. I realize this sounds morbid, but I have a written page of all of my important user names and passwords. My brother Piers is in charge of those in case I die anytime soon, because it is his job to publish the best of my written material that has yet to be unveiled to the world. I have so much of a written footprint; it’s an overwhelming a task to take care of this myself while alive.
I loved Arthur as a child and just caught this. I didn’t know much about peanut allergies when I watched this show back in the day, but now I’m guessing PBS has to cover certain topics in a season of any given show’s audience, much like how the teen shows need to cover pregnancy and drug addiction (Jessie Spano being a great! throwback example).
T.V. still teaches good lessons here and there.
I once dated a man who was invited to eight weddings in one year, half of which he was a groomsman for. Eight wedding gifts, four bachelor parties, one outfit. I think he skipped out on all of the weddings that he was not asked to be part of. So four (guessing; he’s cheap), four, and one.
Try being a girl going to eight weddings in one year, being bridesmaid for half, yet being close enough to the rest of the brides that you are part of each engagement party, bridal shower, and bachelorette party. You are supposed to get a gift for each occasion, and then one for the wedding, too. There are often plane tickets and hotel rooms to consider. As a bridesmaid, there is the gown, the tailoring, the shoes—a different outfit for each bridesmaid stint and worn only once. It is much, much more expensive to be a girl with a lot of close girlfriends.
Hopefully, everyone can come to my wedding, because IF I ever get married, and that is a huge IF, I plan on getting married at 38. I mean, it will be small, but everyone will know at least a year in advance and won’t have crazy financial commitments by then because a) they’ll be established in their careers, b) their children will have been born, and c) they will crave getting out of their ruts and seeing old friends. Positively, they will welcome this type of escape. I plan on an extravagant yet simply elegant and carefree destination wedding that will essentially be one big party for the few invited.
I would hate to think that any of the lavish weddings I’ve attended will end in divorce, but…50% of marriages do. The term “starter marriage” was coined for a reason. When I see divorced friends, especially divorced-at-25 friends, I have to wonder, what is the point of marrying now? We can go back to school, build our careers, freeze our eggs, travel to the world, and love as many people as possible while we still have the energy.
Then, there does come a natural, individual time, outside of “expected time,” when each of us wants to settle down. And luckily, at that point, your partner in crime is ready to dive in with you.
In related news, Long Engagements
My formula to resuscitate brittle winter hair:
1 large egg
4 oz vanilla yogurt
1 T safflower oil
1 tsp. extra virgin olive oil
1. Wisk ingredients together in a small bowl.
2. Apply evenly to damp hair and wrap in a shower cap.
3. After 30 minutes, remove cap. Shampoo and rinse (repeat if necessary) until hair is clean.
For more of my DIY beauty, click here.