Vegetable Secrets

Tired of bland peas, potatoes, and green beans? Ya you and the rest of the world. So here is everything you need.

Ingredients
Bacon
Garlic
Olive oil
onions (optional)
salt and pepper
parsley or basil


Directions
Heat oil on medium low heat. Chop bacon, garlic and onion into small bits, add bacon first, then a minute later add in garlic and onion. MAKE SURE the garlic does not burn, it burns easily. After about 5 or so minutes (it depends on how much you put in there) pour it over whatever veggies broccoli, peas, green beans, in mashed potatoes its awesome, you can put it on anything. Season with the salt, pepper and parsley. If you put it in mashed potatoes, add melted butter to it, a little garlic powder, parsley, basil, salt and pepper.

Italian Salad

My grandmother has an endless talent, she could pick up anything and make it taste incredible. One thanksgiving she was cooking the whole feast, and realized she had run out of a spice she needed. So being a child who came from great poverty, she improvised. She proceeded to walk into her yard and pick dandelions to cook, and it tasted incredible! So I yet again share one of her recipes. It is the essence of simple, its incredibly healthy, AND its cheap.

Ingredients
Baby romaine lettuce ( the ones that are purple and green)
2 onion
two slices of a greenish red tomato
cucumber
olive oil
balsamic vinegar
Italian seasoning

Directions
Peel the cucumber, half it and chop it in slices. Slice a onion in half, width wise, and slice it at an angle, so you get little half moons. Chop the tomato in small cubes. Put on top of lettuce, drizzle with olive oil and the vinegar, don't put too much, you only need a tiny bit. Sprinkle with Italian seasoning, mix then season again.

Note: this recipe is all about moderation on the toppings, taste it and determine if you want any more dressing. This is the REAL Italian dressing. Balsamic vinegar and olive have tons of health benefits. If your trying to lose weight or just eat healthier, eat a big bowl of this, with a piece of French bread for lunch and tada , you have carbs to help you through the day, and healthy vegetable to help you get closer to your daily serving.

My life as a baker

Before I could sautee leeks in butter without burning them, cook dishes from far away lands, perfectly brown a chicken,or pick out the right tomatoes for pasta pomodoro, I baked. I love to bake, chocolate cake, bannana breads, snicker doodle cookies, apple pie, molten center chocolate cupcakes, anything I had time for. It's something I think many people should indulge in, there is not much that makes me happier than pulling a fresh loaf of fig bread out of an oven and handing it over to a friend and getting to see them enjoy every bite. I love cooking for people, I love making them happy with their favorite treats, I just love knowing I can give people something they want. So I have decided to share a few recipies, ones I did not create, I'm too afraid if I let out ones I did in fear of someone ripping them off before I can make a cookbook. So here is my first recipie, I got it from my grandmother and everyone I have ever made it for has loved it.

Fig Bread
Note: for this recipie you will need three large mixing bowls and a few whisks, its messy, takes a while to do, and you need to pay close attention to the recipe, but the end result is worth it.

INGREDIENTS
3 cups flour
2 1/2 cups sugar
4 eggs
3/4 cups vegetable oil
1 cup chopped pecans
1 cup buttermilk
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp allspice
1 tsp nutmeg

DIRECTIONS
Note: the first three steps need to be done in separate bowls
1) Cream sugar eggs, and vegetable oil until well blended.
2) sift together flour and spices
3) Dissolve soda in butter milk
4) Add all three bowls together in one big one
5) Once mixed together add pecans and Fig preserves
6) Grease (very well) a bread pan (rectangle with high sides) and put in oven for 1 hr, at one hour mark poke a knife in the center of the pan and if it comes out clean its done, if not put it back in at 6 min intervals until its done.

Glaze
note: this goes over the top of the bread
Mix confectioners sugar with a very small amount of water, put fork in it to mix and when the sugar is white (not transparent) and it drips off the fork slowly use the fork to drizzle the glaze.


Enjoy and tell me how it goes or if you have questions...that is if I ever get more than one follower..thanks Anna.

I can tend to be a spur of the moment adventure seeker, liberal, and willing to try a lot of things, and I love surprises. You would never see a string of facts like that and guess that I am totally type A. I love cleanliness, timeliness, pure organization, and am extremely competitive. One of the things that I am the most type A about it travel.So when I called my moving company this weekend and they told me my pack out had been pushed back 5 days I verged on a nervous breakdown. There are not many things in this world can agitate me more than screwing my travel schedule, agh you damn people and screwing up paperwork!!! Note to the world DO NOT SCREW WITH MY TRAVEL SCHEDULE! I will loath you, you probably don't care, but you should.

The loss of knowledge

When I was in grade school there was no such addiction that could match mine for MTV. The days of Smashing Pumpkins, Metallica, Nirvana, The GooGoo Dolls, Carson Daily, and Daria, were the symbol of rock and roll knowledge and agenda. Each day I would jump off my bus and walk what at the time seemed like a never ending road back to my house. Yet once I was there I always knew there was a plump couch seated in front of a television waiting for me to absorb musical knowledge. At 11, I could name almost any current song on the radio, my mother was nearly flabbergasted when sitting in the car once I heard exactly one note of The Goo Goo Dolls “Iris” and blurted out the song title. MTV at that time stood up to its name, music was actually played, cool rock stars were interviewed while young girls cooed and cheered in the nearby seats. You had something to learn, some talent to absorb.
As I grew older though I started to notice a change, not just that Carson Daily was painting his finger nails red instead of just black, but a change in the music. The videos started to receive less and less airtime, first it was a second or two at the beginning and end, but overtime only the middle of the video was posted to make room for some other nonmusical show. Not only were videos shortened, but so was the quality, bubble gum pop took over and talented artists and singers were pushed to the wayside. The trend only worsened, and eventually MTV no longer represented its name.
So my love affair with MTV waned, and in many ways I simply forgot about it, as so many others who use to love it did. Then something happened.
This weekend was I was flipping through the channels, I saw that the MTV movie awards were on, and decided to check it out to see who was wearing what. Naturally since their name is “music television” musicians performed. Now 10 years ago at these same awards Metallica rocked out with “I disappear” and rightly so staked their claim as rock legends. The story though was not the same this year. Instead of face melting guitar solos that take years upon years to be able to perform, bubble gum pop took its toll, and whole new flavor of whore.
Katy Perry was the performance of choice alongside Christina Aguilera, and no were not talking Genie in a bottle, instead they took the first amendment to a whole new level, and thus MTV aligned with the red light district. Half the time the singers weren’t singing and the only entertainment was the neon flashing bulbs and practically bare breasts that distracted from the performers lack of talent or originality. In that moment I sadly realized that music television had died forever, and that generations will not have a sliver of knowledge about what talent is. So I leave you with this MTV.
Over time you have elicited the ability to take steaming piles of crap and throw glitter on it and pass off as music. You have created a new title for yourselves “The downfall of music as we know it.” Congratulations on brainwashing a generation.

I really have nothing to proclaim

So I quit my job about a week ago, and lets just say that since then the couch has become very familiar with my ass. So instead I have decided to post some of my work. The first is a drawing of a model I ripped out of a magazine, its the first full face drawing I have ever done, so there are lots of flaws, but for a first try its ok.

The second is a head shot I did of my lovely muse Gabrielle Guarinello. This is my best friends little sister, and the older she has become, the better friends we have become. Now we all have to have a source of inspiration, and for me, shes just the type of girl I want to design for. So I find it appropriate to acknowledge her early on in my career, very early since it hasn't really happened yet.

So without further a due, here they are.

American Idol

Over the last few years I have become somewhat disenchanted with American Idol. I use to avidly follow it, being it was my most direct connection to American culture when I had no other. I would wait so impatiently for each season to come around, and clear my entire life for the finales. I felt so connected to something I had left behind, and could be truly happy in those moments. Yet over the years my love waned…and I forgot something important.
As I was sitting on my couch today, I was flipping through the channels and saw that the American Idol finale was on, and figured I would watch a few minutes. I turned it on just as the tribute to Simon Cowell was starting. Giant glowing doors parted and Kelly Clarkson emerged, followed by Rueben Studdard, Jordin Sparks, Carey Underwood, and the subsequent idol winners. Behind them followed runner ups and other favorites. As I watched all those people on stage, roughly 50, I was reminded of something. Before Idol these people were just normal, they were as plain as you and me, but over time they became some of the most known names in music today. Their entire lives changed at the turn of a hat…because of this show. People were given a chance and found their dreams in the sitting in the palm of their hands.
I am not certain there is a greater symbol of the freedom Americans enjoy. We are known as the land of opportunity, now that doesn’t mean that fame and fortune falls into your lap the minute you come here. What it does mean is that you have a chance, you have a chance to be the a girl working on a farm in the middle of nowhere and a year later you could be named female country singer of the year. You could come from poor urban upbringing and 2 years later act alongside Beyonce in an Oscar winning film and then win an academy award for best supporting actress.
That’s what Idol is about, giving people that chance, that chance to truly embrace what it is to be an American. That given the hard work ethic, the talent, and a shimmer of luck, we can be who we wish. We are reminded that we live the land where “dreams really do come true.”
So call me a follower America, and next season I’ll be tuning in..and maybe tearing up.

Dont be the Dick.

Sometimes nice guys really do finish last, and at these moments they fell the urge to retaliate. I've seen this scenario more times than I can count, they mope around a sputter off something about "becoming asshole so a girl may actually talk to me." My roommate feel into this same rut last night. He is the definition of a "nice guy" and like so many others, has had his heart trampled on like the antelope got Mufasa and he turned to me and uttered those fateful words. His plan: I meet this girl, shes nice, but I have no interest in dating her, so I think I'm just going to sleep with her for a little while, and then tell her "its not working." I had the urge to slap him, sit him down on a chair like a child and lecture him for hours, but I understood his dilemma, and approached the whole idea with a sense of empathy. I turned to him and warned him of the phrase "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." Men when a woman screws you over, you call us names and go have a beer with your buddies....woman are what you would call a little more; devious. We too will call you names, tell our girl friends terrible secrets about you and as we storm out of your house tell you your penis is small and loudly proclaim we faked it. Unfortunately for you, it does not end there. That just isnt enough for us. Now some of you will say, "nah she wouldn't do anything like that, shes too nice" which you may be right about. What you dont think about is her girlfriends, if shes not spiteful, she has a devious girlfriend who is. One who will tell her the best way to get this anger off her chest, which is some scenarios involves carving a penis into the side of your shiny new truck or mustang.
So boys, the next time you choose to tell us were "really cool" or you "really like us" and then don't call...you've been warned.

105 and sunny

Hell has nothing on a Florida summer. Between the heat ( it was 105 degrees in my roommates car yesterday) and the humidity, simply breathing is a chore. Despite the fact that I have lived in Tallahassee for almost 2 years, I have never experienced a true Florida summer. I am tan(and sunburned) trying with every ounce of will I have NOT to turn on the AC. All the while trying to elicit a creative ability to stay cool in any way where I don't touch my wallet. It's not an easy feat, I feel like I should be granted an Olympic medal for such skills. Only the love bugs enjoy this weather, a fact made apparent by their ability to so avidly fly straight onto my body only to become stuck and meet an imminent death by drown themselves in tanning oil. Survival of the fittest :)
Despite my disdain for sweltering heat, I know a part of me will miss it. When I'm two shades away from matching computer paper, and my nose is red from blistering NYC winds, I will think back on these days. Despite my short path through Tallahassee, I appreciate what you have done for me. So Tallahassee, stay classy, and one day I'll be back, sitting by the pool, and flicking bugs off my body.

A question in life.

My whole life I have been dedicated to pursuing my career. I said I would leave everything behind, jump over every obstacle, and run towards my dreams..and I did. I left a lot of people and opportunities behind.. a lot of friends, family, and relationships. I never thought about it before, because like I said, it was a price I was willing to pay. I always thought it for my betterment and that I would be happy in the end.
Then the straw came that broke the camels back. And for the first time in my life I questioned what I was doing, and questioned what I gave up and how much more I could. I never thought this day would come, but when I thought about it, I realized that the road to success can be lonely when traveled alone. My worst fear use to be failure..but as my life has gone on I realize there are worse things to be afraid of..like a life of riches with no one to share it with. I don't want fame and success if the price I pay is everyone I love. It's something I have been mulling in my head for a couple days now...and it scares the shit out of me. It scares me that something could actually make me question what I have been so driven for for so long, and that if I keep this drive, if I keep traveling like a horse with blinders on...my life may take a direction I wanted, but at a cost greater than the end prize.
I am not yet willing to give up my dreams, and I am going to pursue this...I just pray I making the right decision.

Dreams on a peice of paper

My father is an expert at persuasion, being a criminal investigator and a former Cop I should hope so.
I use to be a idealist, I saw my dreams and knew I was going to jump without thinking the first time an opportunity came my way. My father on the other hand is a pragmatic person, always thinking 10 steps ahead, always making practical decisions, and through his effortless talent, I became the same way. Now I wont say it was all bad, it helped me to make some very wise decisions about my life, and taught me how to really prepare for the next step and not just hope things were going to work out. Yet the time has come where I said I would jump in...I have had practical views on it that have told me "stay put, save money, think of the future" but in my heart everything changes. The idealist inside me is screaming "JUMP YOU FOOL! This is everything you have ever wanted and worked for!" So which shoulder angel so I listen to? Do I stay in a place with an Ok school, save tons of money, but go along thinking..."what if I had gone to FIT? Was this the right decision?" Will I ponder this 20 years down the road and see that I was wrong to turn away? Will I do exactly as my father did when he was put into this situation? It's a decision he still contemplates today...how will I feel if I don't end up where I wanted to, and think back on how my dreams were given to me and I turned my back?
In many ways the Pro's out weigh the cons...yes this is going to be the biggest decision I have made to date.

Yet all roads point to jump..so here I come NYC.

FIT

When I was 12 years old I decided that I wanted to be a fashion designer. Fast forward 8 years and I was still waiting on that dream wondering if it was just out of my reach. Until this morning. This morning when I was sitting on the porch with my wonderful man (whom I'm so glad was there with me) I received a package I was not sure would ever come. My acceptance letter to FIT. FIT has been a dream of mine that I never really thought could come true. The likes of Micheal Kors, Nina Garcia, and Calvin Klein graduated from here. This school is fashion Ivy league people, and the only reason I can thinkn of that I would get in is right here. I have no connections, I am getting an AA from a community college, and I am just learning how to sew. While all this is true, I have a passion that is undying, and the essay that I sent perfectly illistrates that. SO here it is folks, my heart and soul for all you to see. Enjoy.

I push open the door and walk doe eyed, into the store. As my heart rate quickens, I can feel the plush carpet beneath my feet, smell the perfumes pumped into the air, and catch the glimpses of the Swarovski crystals as they refract the light. I stare in awe at a blonde woman in the back of the store, slipping on that breathtaking Caroline Herrera ball gown. My eyes wander to the hangers and my finger runs along the fabrics, smooth silk, rough tulle, soft feathers…and suddenly I stop breathing because of what I see. There, a meager six inches from my own foot, is a pair of Manolo Blahniks. Manolo’s, the shoe of choice for Galliano runway shows, the shoe said to “lengthen the leg from the hip all the way down to the toe cleavage”, the Mona Lisa of shoes, and I am staring at it.

It is in these moments that I am able to float in and out of high end boutiques that my smile reaches from Paris to New York. These moments when I stop talking and just relax, taking everything in, from the ceiling to the floor shelves, hangers and boxes filled with the most beautiful things I have ever seen. I have a hard time determining what is more artistically influential for me, my trip to the Louvre or my time in this mall filled with everything I aspire to be. When staring at the red oversized quilted Chanel clutch, I have to muster up the ability to hold back tears. I realize that the sales clerks see me gawking at the beautiful purses knowing that the girl in the Old Navy cardigan and American Eagle shorts could not possibly purchase anything, or appreciate what surrounds her. Well, she has one thing right. The majority of the items in the boutique could have paid for my associate’s degree at community college, but she is wrong too. If there is one thing I can appreciate, one thing I know, one thing I love, it is fashion.

Like every “wanna be” designer, I cut up fabrics as a kid and pasted them on paper making my own designs, not realizing this would be a skill I would try to perfect 10 years down the road. I knew Vogue was the Bible; bookmarked Style.com on my computer, and watched every fashion show that ever aired on television. I knew I loved it and I wanted the lifestyle. But, I knew there were obstacles. When I was 15 years old, I went to the occupational outlook handbook online and nearly cried when I saw a one percent projected growth within the industry over the next 10 years. One percent. I knew I needed an edge. So that’s precisely what I did. I worked for that edge.

Whenever I had extra money in the United States, I would drive myself to the nearest bookstore (Borders can thank me for half of its revenue within the past five years) and burry my nose in the fashion and art books, and meticulously decide which one to walk home with. I begged my Dad to buy me Vogues from all the countries he traveled to so I could pour over each one. I studied each page of Phaidon’s “The fashion Book” trying to fit in every anecdote from every designer into my head, “How did they start out?” “What is their atheistic?” “What set them apart?” I bought fine art books to try and teach myself how to draw the models I saw in magazines, I learned to paint so I could learn how colors compliment each other; I made jewelry so I could understand how accessories pair with clothes. I put on my favorite Jazz vinyl at the end of the day and drew until my eyes couldn’t focus anymore. I learned Terri Hatcher gives the best fashion insider advice, to always listen to the stories and advice of successful designers, and that if my dreams were to come true, and my hard work to pay off, I needed a fashion education. I needed a mentor to tell me not just how to draw a pretty model, but a mentor to tell me how exactly to manage my career, how to work in retail, how to market myself more successfully and therein lies my need for an education from FIT.

Every designer has a fashion love story, ambition, and desire, but not everyone has the business savvy, and the education. With a degree in Merchandising, my gasps of breath will not only be reserved for Manolo Blahniks work, but for myself as well. For that day I can walk into a store, have my heart rate quicken, smell the perfume, and let a lone tear fill up in my eye as I step foot into my own store and finally say to myself “I told you you could do it.”

I never stop thinking. When your brain is dripping out your ears in front of the boob tube, my brain is firing neurons like Kirsty Alley shovels down doughnuts. I by no means feel its some claim to superiority, I just never seem to let it all go. A friend of mine once told me that he was certain the scariest place in the world was inside my head....I fear he may be right. Which is part of the reason for my starting this, sometimes I just like to write. Usually no one cares or reads it, which honestly I'm fine with. I realize I'm just a nobody, just a college student handing out resumes to people I am not qualified to work for. Hopefully one day that will change.

I have a lot to say though, whether it be important or not is relative, no I will not change the world, or save anyone, but maybe one day I will put a smile on your face, maybe I'll make you think and make you crazy like me. Maybe it wont have any effect at all, but its all a maybe. If nothing else I get shred of pleasure of letting out one smidgen of my thoughts. Call me self absorbed, or maybe just a person with something to say. There is a a lot going on in this world. A haphazard world as I like to refer to it. One in which we all have a place...and hopefully one in which we find a meaning and all have a say in.

This is a picture I took of my cousin, photography is always a good outlet for me, its my means of expression when my fingers are not trained to show what I feel.