truth is I’m only guessin

February 27, 2017

The leaning tower of pyrex has arrived!


Because I am crazy but not insane, I am in charge of a crew cooking for ninety people, but we are totally just making casseroles.

I figure there are only a few ways to fuck up lasagna, and if we’re cooking eight lasagnas, the odds are in our favor that each of them emerges with only one gastronomic flaw. Spreading the potential potholes around, basically. Like getting new blood into the gene pool.

Me for scale.


There is going to be SO MUCH lasagna. Garfield would love me.

Those whisps you see all over the image are Mia’s nose smears across the mirror. She leaves them on every surface in the house, because apparently her most dominant characteristic is to have to have her nose into everything that happens, anywhere, ever. I have decided that her theme song is the chorus of What’s Up by 4 Non Blondes.

In case you yourself would like to join the ninety and my team this week in consuming what is basically a garden with cheese, here is the recipe to one of the most delicious foods ever.


One time a couple of years ago I was hanging out with an old friend I hadn’t seen in a few years, and mentioned that I was learning to cook.

You? Are learning to cook?’ he repeated, incredulity lining every word like down in a puffy vest. ‘But all you ever eat is Rice-A-Roni!’

And I was not offended, because he was not wrong.

Several years later, I am still learning to cook. I have figured out what one does with gourd, and how to keep eggplant from turning out bitter, but I still cannot slice or chop anything very well, and every time I make eggs or pancakes they turn out unfortunate somehow; a different type of unfortunate each time, too.

I am trying, but the bottom line is that I am not very comfortable cooking, and a lot of the time the stuff I make does not turn out very well.

Because I enjoy curtailing my activities to those things I exhibit a natural skill for, (not), next week I am leading a team of volunteers in cooking and serving dinner to ninety Portland people experiencing homelessness.

Every time I think about it I break out in a cold sweat on my eyebrow and upper lip hairs and I have an urge nearly as involuntary as vomiting to smoke a pack of cigarettes.

If any of you are praying people, I would appreciate a word on behalf of my efforts in the ear of your deity; the rest of you please cross your damn fingers.

Do it for the homeless. The fate of their dinner rests in my incapable hands.

I say hey now now

February 17, 2017

Old age: finding a super cute tank top and being outraged at its price tag; realizing after closer scrutiny that apparently people consider this garment a dress.

infused with the very air

February 16, 2017

More sports should be set to music. Also, I am pretty sure that 90% of opera exists for use in figure skating programs.

but in space time is erased

February 15, 2017


You who walk with me, your being sweetens my way.

You whose paths have diverged from mine,

on an upswing of time’s pendulum I release you to the stars.


we got somethin to leave

February 9, 2017

I have so many Spanish word of the day emails in my inbox (I go over them again and again, only deleting them after I absolutely know them and can use them in all sorts of sentences) that google has started populating its handy little ‘translate this page’ bar for me at the top of my gmail inbox.


Me tomo mi tiempo.