I try to be deep, honest I do. I do my best to read classics and ponder life because I aspire to write deep, philosophical blogs. In fact, I’m currently reading Dante’s Inferno — who knew hell could be so icky? But because of the ADHD I keep denying I have, my brain prefers to escape the circles of hell and fixate on something I enjoy more, like food. This week I’m enamored with Cream of Wheat. So, it’s Philosophy – 0 Food – 1 Continue reading
I love getting to know my kids friends and realizing there are no pesky serial killers or violent offenders to worry about. They’re good kids who I enjoy hanging out with too.
I love them all, especially Reef, my daughter’s boyfriend, who entered sainthood the day he served as spotter — helping me pinpoint where my intestinally challenged dog had left lovely gifts on my living room rug. But recently I got to spend some time with my son’s friend Emil, who I hadn’t seen in months.
Ever since I first heard about lemon ricotta pancakes, I’ve wanted to try them. They sound like the perfect Father’s Day breakfast.
I especially wanted to make them because my daughter went to Claire’s on Cedros in Solana Beach, California, and told me she ate the best pancakes of her life there.
How could stinking Claire make the best pancakes of her life when mine, her baker/cook mom’s, are supposed to be the best?
If you’re in a state that’s not Florida, California or Hawaii right now, you’re probably dreaming of spring. I live in California and I apologize up front. It just happened this way, I didn’t really plan it, so don’t hate me. I never gloat over the weather because I could be killed at any second by a terrifying mother of an earthquake. That pretty much evens things out I think. I’m a Pittsburgher at heart and always will be.
Anyway, I hope spring comes soon for you, but if stinking Punxsutawney Phil is right, it won’t. So here’s a memory of spring from my childhood in New Brighton, PA, when spring meant fresh air, spring onions and asparagus, and frightening glimpses of my mother’s girdle. Continue reading