Family, Video

have you met my baby…

…baby brother that is.

Today I feel like I have been gifted with the older sister keys to the kingdom. Yesterday I got this gem from my aunt, by way of my mother.

Brief background, my brother moved back to LA at the end of August for school. He is living with my aunt, uncle, and 9-year old and 6-year old cousins. He loves it. This is about to be proven.


Family, Food


So, I forgot that in LA you can buy alcohol anywhere, and whoa do I mean anywhere.

Thus, imagine my shock to walk into Costco and there before me is a ginormous bottle of tequila. I laughed, I stared in shock and then a thought hit of, that could really help get me through the holidays. :)

It was a great thought that I can’t actually follow through on.

Family, Life, NaBloPoMo


I’m not quite sure what is more insane:

  1. having 4 family members staying in my house that I hadn’t met before yesterday
  2. the arrival of the greek/british cousins (2 of them)
  3. a surprise visit from my late grandfather’s 72 year old sister, who by the way…only speaks greek

This is where we note that I still haven’t gotten the much needed nap, and that the count in the house is up to eleven.

Family, Food

Moving + Fashionista Moment

I’ve been in the process of moving. Today is the big day, and I seriously am a tad paranoid. But with that said I haven’t provided a blog post since the beginning on the week…so without further ado I give a post that I wrote for the District Whisks blog (brain child of one JM and HF).


One night in college, at the bar around the corner from my house, I was hanging out with friends getting a drink, eating dinner, chatting with the bartenders and enjoying my favorite section of the bar. A guy walks up with a friend and proceeds to ask me to move to my purse, perched next to me, by using the line “umm, can I sit here or does your purse get it’s own stool.” It won’t surprise those who know me to learn that I didn’t really give much of a vocal answer answer, I instead looked at him…then my purse, raised an eyebrow and he sat somewhere else. End of story.

So I may sound like a fashionista snob, and maybe sometimes I am, but I stumbled across this article in New York Magazine about purses and restaurants.

While the article was more a review on two NYC restaurants that cater to clientele obessed with their handbags, it began with the line:

When Alain Ducasse opened at the Essex House in 2000, not only was it an important culinary moment for the city, it was a great day for handbags. In his quest to civilize an unruly New York dining public, the detail-obsessed restaurateur had equipped each table with a red-velvet-upholstered footstool upon which women could give their precious clutches a proper stage, rather than just dump them on the floor like an old Duane Reade shopping bag.

Dumping a purse on the floor is well…not okay at all. I mean your shoes, which touch the street are the only other things that have frequent contact with said floor space.

I’m not asking for every restaurant/bar to bring me a footstool for my bag, but I would like a eyebrow not to raise when I use the extra chair besides me. I love my handbags. I mean Kate and I (Kate Spade that is) go back to high school when I would stalk ebay for gently used bags in my price -range. My not so small collection of them all have dust bags to keep them clean and would never be stored with a stray pen that could leak.

For said reason, when you see me in a bar, purse on the stool beside me…think twice before asking me to move it to the gross bar floor or to the actual bar top where the drunken guy next to me will soon spill his beer, all over my nice jeans and my beautiful handbag.

Family, Food, Life

local farms, the new hip thing

My mother has always jumped on the cause bandwagon, and being from a conservative family means I have seen some great ones, but when it came down to it no cause was ever important enough to earn a bumper sticker. Bumper stickers were for crazy people with crazy causes. So let’s imagine my surprise when I arrived home to find a “No Farms, No Food” bumper sticker on the kitchen counter courtesy of the American Farmland Trust.

There is a reason for her new love, and it’s a combination garden + vineyard:

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Family, Quotes

And Then I Realized

I’m pretty sure there isn’t a normal facet of my life.

My baby brother is turning 18 in a couple of weeks, which, yes is freaking me out like whoa. But he likes me enough to include me on the facebook invite that he sent out to all his teeny-bopper friends. And the best part had to be the description which may encapsulate our childhood:

“Yes, I’m turning 18 and having a party to prove it. My mom is making good Italian grub– and my dad will probably light something on fire. Anyway, come ready for an adventure.”

I mean really who talks about their parents like that, and more then anything, I can’t debate anything he stated.

Family, Food, NaBloPoMo

Thrown to the Ground

Thanksgiving in my house means company, lots of food and generally one major mishap, this year it was all mishaps in my direction. So without further ado, a photo montage and a recipe (after the jump):

First there was the pie crust that hated me, but turned out so pretty I almost hugged it.

The tart, after it burnt a blister in my finger. At this point I was wondering if it was worth is as I couldn’t move my finger for almost two hours.

The tart complete and ready to put out. It was all worth it.

The tart: pre-dessert time when mom accidentally dropped the whole thing on the floor while I was in the garage getting cupcakes from the fridge for her.

(Recipe below…the bit I tasted that wasn’t thrown in the trash was good, you should make it)

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Family, Life, NaBloPoMo

It’s an “On Day”

For months I’ve believed that the root all all problems with my boss is that she, well, may have some sort of personality thing. Whether it’s a split personality or some other disorder, something is there.  And this week has just affirmed it.

Needless to say, we’re in an up, or an on, state at this moment.

I had my evaluation today, and it was so nice that I didn’t quite believe it was about me. That is until she called me the “office mom.” (I mean pair this with other things I’ve heard the “floor mom” and an “RA mom,” I mean this is why I can’t find a guy willing to date me, who wants to date a mom?) But now back to the subject at hand, the shocking evaluation. Apparently I take care of the office, I am people aware and people like working with me…oh, and the interns like working for me. To that last line, all I have to say is, “Take That Dad! Pitying my interns. Can’t mock me again as being a terror.”

But moving past that all and on to my Dad…

While I was in my evaluation meeting I missed a call to my cell phone from my dad that played out something like this, “hey baby. I have math notes for you [for the GRE] and I need you to call me and tell me your email address. I’ll talk to you later.” Needless to say, I call the house and my mom answers and without even saying hello I say, “if you died, Dad would have no idea how to find me.” She just laughed and goes, “I hear he doesn’t know your email address or how to call you at work.” At this point, we should note that my direct line at work is programmed into my parents house phone…in the line it goes “brother-cell,” “mom-cell,” “me-cell,” and then “me-work.” And yet…somehow, he both can’t call me at work or email me (I’ve also had the same email address for a while). But all in all, it really points out my dad’s personality. Cause the man can take an hour and construct twenty-three pages of math notes, but can’t find his daughter’s work number or email, work or personal. It made me chuckle.

Now, back to the GRE.

Family, NaBloPoMo, Quotes

A Conversation with Mom

Two posts in about 5 hours…it just proves that I now have something to write about. (After I fell asleep on my couch and ate a little bit of protein, my body is happy). But needless to say my mom called me at midnight and in true fashioned chastised me for being awake, but as she’s calling I think it’s pretty safe to know where I get it from.

The conversation was both absurd, morbid, bizarre and funny (like laughing so hard we both were crying).

Now, my mom and I have a strange “we’ve probably spent way too much time together” sort of relationship. And this translates to in the course of the call tonight there was:

  1. A moment she was annoyed and almost hung up on me
  2. The following moment where I was annoyed she was annoyed, so I just pretended I couldn’t tell and instead talked over her
  3. A discussion on baking and whose cake was better
  4. How my dad intellectually rejected her wine selection and instead picked a better one
  5. How if she died, I am to run away and not get sucked into taking care of my brother and dad because I quote, “You’ll get sucked in and then you’ll never find a husband, just get on the first plane to Alaska.”
  6. 70’s music and the inappropriateness of Margaritaville

But, when it came down to it. The best moment was the last 10 minutes where we ended up laughing so hard we were crying and completely incapable of hanging up the phone. So it started when I made a comment like “oh we can call our bakery that.” She says no, it’ll be our names. But she uses her two-syllable name, and my one-syllable nickname. Needless to say, I reject it on balance. And then out of the blue she asks if I want to change my middle name to her maiden name.

My response can easily be described as: No, what is wrong with you?

Then she launches into a thing about how she had been thinking that she should have given my brother and I her maiden name, and did I want to take it now. I just laughed and was like, “Mom, I like my middle name, and I would take your maiden name…but one day I want to hyphenate my name and think, I’d be starting out with a base of 29 letters. I could never fill out a form ever again!”

Somehow, and at this moment I’m still not sure how, this translated into her trying to rename her 23-year old daughter. And I made the comment of, “Can you imagine if I showed up at church on Sunday and someone greeted me by name and I responded, oh sorry that isn’t my name anymore because my mom renamed me Friday night was she was loopy.” From there it just got worse, cause she asked if it would be emotional cruelty to a child if she were to say, legally rename my 17-year-old brother just three and a half months before his 18th birthday. We decided it wasn’t and that he should embrace the rural countryside he lives in.

His new name: Jim Bob. (Sucks for him that he went to sleep halfway through the call).

Family, Food, Life

Boring weekend…Past Food Photo!

The weekend was pretty slow…and all in all, it was shopping, family, two rounds of church, being told by my mother that I don’t embrace my “pretty young lady” aura and thus am single (insert eye roll here). Mind you, I kind of feel like she’s missed the part where I don’t have full control over if I’m single or not…of course, E would disagree with me on that last point. But I smiled today, batted the eyelashes and tried not to toss the oh so straight hair as I invited myself to look at a fish pond…a fish pond, am I nuts?

So instead tonight, of going into fish pond psychology, I share…my attempt of: Deb’s Brownie Mosaic Cheesecake


One thing to point out before the recipe, I don’t make brownies from scratch. Why, cause someone at Duncan Hines figured out a way to let me make brownies with a box, eggs, oil and water…so fantastic! Also, remove it from the fridge ten minutes or so before, don’t leave it out to long, it will melt.  Now, the recipe (after the jump)

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