Wisdom Teeth Diet

West Wing in the background. Ready, set, giggle. (Not giggling from the painkillers. From the Jello.)

Whoops

So remember last post when I apologized for my prolonged absence and vowed to myself to do better? Whoops.

I really am going to try to do better, though. For a number of reasons, namely:

a) I got my wisdom teeth out today, and there's only so many NCIS episodes a girl can watch with ice packs strapped to her face, yunno? I'm going to have some down time this weekend to kick my butt into blogging gear.

b) Momma b and Poppa b called me the other day to discuss birthday gifts (because yes, the little b just turned 26) and I think I might ask for help purchasing a new computer. My Dell (circa 2007) is still chugging along, despite its aforementioned fall down a flight of concrete stops, but it can be very slow and freezes often. It's not terribly conducive to blogging, and it can't handle Photoshop (not to mention the fall damaged its memory card drive, so it's difficult to upload pictures anyway.) I'd never be able to save enough money on my ownfor a new computer (I think I might get an Apple and make the switch once and for all) so I might ask for a contribution to the 'little-b-needs-a-new-computer fund.' Nothing crazy, of course - just whatever they would spend on a regular gift.

c) speaking of saving, I'm going to try to save up for a new camera. I've never had an SLR before, but I find that my Powershot just can't do what I want it to do most of the time. Sometimes I see the most gorgeous things when I'm out in DC -- at the farmer's market, in the parks, not to mention the fact that I live in one of the most architechturally beautiful cities in the US (though of course I'm biased) -- and I can't translate that beauty to the photos. Stay tuned for my first forays into photography and photoshop.

d) I'm going to try to do more post-work activities and explore the city more. I work very long hours and can't write about it here (more on that later) so sometimes I get frustrated blogging - do you guys really want to hear about the 3 hours I have to myself each night where I come home, throw my clothes on the floor, cook dinner, watch tv, and go to bed? Because that's my Monday-Friday right there. But it's not terribly fulfilling to live that way, and I've vowed to try to do more with my free time, even if there isn't a ton of it. To start, I'm going to try photography (see above), plus Steve has been slowly teaching me to play the guitar. I also haven't posted enough about my cooking, so prepare to hear more about that.

e) Another skill that I want to develop is web design and HTML/CSS. I know a tiny bit about it, but I would love to get better at it -- for both personal and professional reasons. So if you see constant changes on the site --some ugly, some (hopefully) not, just know that it's a work in progress and I'm learning.

Although that's a pretty big list to stick to, I can hopefully achieve some of it. Let's find out! (and if not, I fear a NaBloPoMo is in my future to really get me going...)

xoxo,

little b

Back in Action

Hello friends! After an extended absence, I have returned.

I didn't mean for it to turn into an extended absence. At most, I expected it to last a month (I had to go to New York for work for almost all of October.) And then, my computer had an unfortunate run-in with a flight of stairs and I lost the ability to upload photos (though thankfully, not the computer itself.) And then work got busy and it was Thanksgiving and then I felt like I had nothing interesting to share with you all, especially without pictures, and now it's almost Christmas.

Which brings us to today. After reading this article about how more and more kids are writing to Santa for basic needs instead of toys this year, I decided to participate in Toys for Tots.

(Truthfully, I first called the New York City Post Office to see if I could participate in Operation Letter to Santa. I certainly meet the height requirements for elves. But alas, it was not in the cards this year.)

So I toted in a bag of toys to work this morning, feeling pretty jolly. I also had some champagne for Miri, who is celebrating her recent engagement. And then on the Metro, my friend Tess texted me to let me know that she had gotten the job that I had recommended her for. I was overwhelmed with holiday spirit and cheer and wearing my new red coat and then as I was crossing C Street it hit me:

Today, I am Jewish Santa.

Happy holidays from the little b!

An Important Safety Message from the Little B

Friends, if I can impart one piece of cooking knowledge from my novice repertoire, let it be this: Always keep your kitchen knives sharp.

If you don't, picture the scene: You may be planning to make yourself a magnificent feast of espinicas con garbanzos on your second full night home after a long trip. You may be planning an evening of Spanish food, red wine, and catching up on past episodes of Mad Men for yourself. There you'll be in your tiny kitchen, happily slicing bread with the serrated knife that your mother got you at Home Goods and probably cost less than the bread itself, when it will (because it isn't sharp) snag on the crusty bread, jump, and slice your left index finger through the fingernail and to depths that you weren't sure existed in your left index finger. And then you will feel faint and bleed and call your boyfriend in near-hysterics because you are certain, certain, that you will have to spend the rest of the night at GW Hospital awaiting stitches. You are alone in your apartment and you may die of sepsis.

(You won't.)

However! Espinicas con garbanzos will forever be tainted for you. Especially because they turn out to be not so delicious and certainly not worth nearly losing an appendage over.

This has been an important safety message from the Little B. The above story is fiction* and any resemblance it has to real life is purely coincidental.

* It's not fiction. My finger hurts.
** No, seriously, don't use dull knives.

Outta Cape Cod Tonight

Reader,

You must listen to this song. It will make you happy. It will make me happy that you are happy. And it's important to our reader-blogger relationship.

Happy Thursday!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=abNc1gLig3s

25 to Go

Friends, a disturbing piece of information has come to my attention: I have only been to 25 of these 50 great United States.

Now, this is revisionist history, to an extent. When I was ten years old, Momma B and Poppa B took the Little B family on a great cross-country minivan caravan. We probably traveled through 20 states that time, all with a Chrysler wood-paneled minivan and a CB radio. But I still had baby teeth at that point (plus we had a wood-paneled minivan and no cell phones), so I decided not to count that trip in my travels. Too pre-millenial.

I also did some good driving in 2008 on my way to and from Waco, TX. But I decided not to count any state that I didn't stop the car in. So Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia were out. (Rest stops don't count.)

However, this is an unsettling realization for someone who loves travel as much as Little B does. And especially unsettling for someone who wants to see all corners of the U.S. My top must-sees are (in the lower 48) Washington, Colorado and New Mexico; however, I've vowed to make it to all 50 someday.

So what's left on the list?

Rhode Island
South Carolina
Georgia
Alabama
Mississippi
Ohio
Indiana
Michigan
Minnesota
Wisconsin
Iowa
North Dakota
South Dakota
Nebraska
Kansas
Oklahoma
Colorado
Wyoming
Idaho
New Mexico
Arizona
Washington
Utah
Alaska
Hawaii

What about you, dear reader? Where do YOU want to go in the U.S. of A? And where should I go first?

P.S. Hi Alex!

My Very Own Cake Wreck

Today, as I was perusing CakeWrecks (and I don't think that anyone in the known universe has not yet heard of this blog, but today I needed a chuckle to get me through the pre-lunch stretch), I decided to share with you my own cautionary cake wreck tale. Don't let this happen to you!

But before I can tell this story, there's one thing that you need to understand about the Little B. I must confess it; I can't keep it in any longer. It's a serious problem that I grapple with daily:

I L-O-V-E holidays.

And don't misunderstand -- I'm not talking about the spirit of togetherness, love for your fellow man, wholesome parts of the holiday. I'm not anti-wholesomeness; it's just not what gets my holiday mojo going.

No, what I love most about the holidays is the kitsch. The tchotchkes. The overtly tacky garnishes that make others turn up their nose at the season. I currently have on display, in my home, in August: rubber ducks dressed as Pilgrims, Indians and a turkey; a light-up snowman figurine that blinks red and blue; and a miniature Christmas tree, festooned with miniature garlands and a miniature gingerbread man ornament. (People, I'm Jewish. I wasn't kidding when I said that this was a serious problem.)

(Don't worry, Mom -- Hannukah gets equal footing.)

So for this past 4th of July, I decided, to no one's surprise, that I would go over the top celebrating the spirit of the holiday. I decided that I would make this cake to express all the patriotic, America-loving, butter-craving gluttony that I was feeling that day.

The only small hitch in my plan was my painfully bare cake pan stash. I had one 15x10 pan, but the recipe required a 17x12 pan. "No problem," I shrugged, "I'll just only use enough to fill the pan and throw the rest of the batter out. How ingenious!"

To my great delight, ALL the batter fit into the pan. OBVIOUSLY, I was smarter than the recipe. Clearly, I was the pinnacle of baking geniuses, on par with the masters! I smugly slid the pan into the oven and waited for the patriotic glory to bake.

It should come as no surprise to anyone that this is what happened next:


Steve came in to pick me up for the baseball game 20 minutes later to find me wild-eyed, covered in flour and frantically scooping raw batter out of the pan. The overflowing batter had cemented to the bottom of the oven and had become charred, smoking, and a probable fire and health hazard. I had the partially-cooked cake precariously balanced on my oven range as I tried to chip the burned remains out of the oven with barbecue tools. It was not one of my finer moments.

In the end (after two more scooping sessions and a thorough excavation of the oven, we wound up with flag cake, in all of its caloric goodness.

But I think next time I'll pay more attention to the directions.