resolution number 3: cell stupid
over the summer my beloved phone died a painful, dramatic, sylvia plath-like death.
my grief grew branches and bore fruit when i learned my cherished model was no longer offered,
and in addition i would have to switch phone companies.
enter the DROID.
let's just say i've had migraine headaches more pleasant than this torture-bot.
apparently one needs a computer science Ph.D just to figure out ringtones.
let's not even talk about composing an email......{M.I.T. graduates}
eleven trips to the verizon store and two replacement droids later i decided it wasn't the phone for me.
did you know droid is a synonym for drone {what we call the robotic military planes used to kill people-hello???}
begrudgingly i moved onto a different kind of phone: blackberry bold.
enter a whole new set of buttons, appetizers, screens, cords, and problems.
this phone, although not as NASA as the droid, still would be considered a lemon.
but it's ok. perfect actually.
it's been almost 5 months of a super shoddy relationship with my cell phone and i LOVE it.
i used to be glued to my silly phone. now i rarely know where it is.
i have less paranoia, less anxiety, and more solitude.
i will stay in this verizon lair where my brain gets to nap more, read more, and pet the dogs.
my quality of life has improved so much i'm determined to become even more unhitched to my phone.
here's to unplugging in 2011.
resolution number 2: as the crow flies
i've restarted yoga after a five year hiatus.
the bliss of shutting down, of lamp-shading the outside world, and sitting in my stillness is back.
but. so. is. the. fear.
i can coddle and herd my hamstrings to new lengths.
my shoulders juice out tension held from college finals passed.
yet, ask me to balance my knees on my triceps,
and i'd sooner drink a toe-nail milkshake {not my own}.
gross. yes. but that's how i feel about crow pose.
now, i know there are yogis who will read this and try to help with tips and encouragement.
SAVE YOUR BREATH!!
i know this is an easy pose.
i have eyes.
i see ALL of you, knees up in your armpits, acting as if you had just eaten a piece of cake.
pffft.
this is my own fear of falling on my face {literally and metaphorically}.
but it is my resolution to master this muthafucka by next year!!!!
resolution number 1
i've wasted spent so much of my life consumed with what i put in my mouth.
is it healthy?
is it vegetarian?
is it organic?
is it good for the environment?
will it make me gain weight?
will it make me sleepy?
will i regret eating this later?
blah. blah. blah. boring!!!!!
what truly holds the heavy weight in my heart is what comes out of my mouth.
when i find myself the agent of gossip or other disparaging remarks at innocents' expense;
the shame and guilt i feel is worse than any post middle of the night binge induced remorse.
better to have just shoveled in that jar of peanut butter, bag of popcorn, and block of munster cheese.
at least the next day i could just work it off.
not so much with words.
chat, opinions, speculation..they all hinder and hurt more often than help.
this year rather than vex and irk about what goes into my mouth;
i hope to show more compassion toward what comes out of my mouth.
click image for source
and i'm off...
one foot, then the next.
readily leaving this tiger year behind.
nothing against cubs, but i'm more of a rabbit kind of girl.
as for public declarations for personal improvement i'm going to try some new ones this year.
begone are my pledges to drink more water, sleep more soundly or eat vomit, i mean, beets once a week.
a decade of trying, and these resolutions still haven't.....stuck.
this round i'm going for a new spin: intentions that actually bring me happiness.
stay tuned m'loves.
a christmas wish for you....
remember to breathe deeply
to smile brightly,
laugh loudly,
and to love fiercely.
merry merry.
wet
i've been row-boating my way to and fro work these last few days.
buckets, bathtubs, and barrels of rain showering down on california.
an early amuse bouche from santa if you ask me.
cold, rainy days make the cup of coffee steamier, the cheeks rosier, and arrival home cozier.
cheers to weather.
winter love
there is a privacy about it which no other season gives you.... in spring, summer and fall people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.
~ruth stou
a croissant pudding
no scented candles needed for this nest.
the house still lingers from my weekend baking bonanza.
i share with you my caramel-croissant pudding:
it starts with croissants.
{didn't go fancy-pants on the croissant maker-a mexican market in altadena}
i substituted brown sugar when making the caramel.
sweetest sous chef ever.
priscilla. supervising.
whipping cream {swoon}
bourbon {swoon squared}
c'est magnifique!
here's the recipe in its entire. i would tweak the bourbon content if you're serving to children or people who might be sensitive to a liquor taste. tis quite strong. this is wonderful on its own or even better with vanilla ice cream. i still can't believe how easy and fast it is to make. definitely going to be seeing it come holiday time.
2 stale all-butter croissants, coarsely torn
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons water
1/2 cup heavy cream {i used whipping cream instead}
1/2 cup milk
2 tablespoons bourbon
2 large eggs, beaten
1. preheat the oven 350'. lightly butter a 1-quart, shallow baking dish and arrange the croissant pieces in the dish. in a small saucepan, stir the sugar and water over moderately high heat until the sugar dissolves; wash down any crystals on the sides with a wet pastry brush. cook without stirring until a medium amber caramel forms, about five minutes. remove from the heat and stir in the cream, milk and bourbon. cook over low heat just until any hardened caramel dissolves.
2. in a bowl, whisk eggs. gradually whisk in the hot caramel. pour over croissants and let stand for 10 minutes, pressing the croissants to keep them submerged.
3. bake the pudding in the center of the oven for 2o minutes, until puffed and golden. let cool for 10 minutes. then serve.
recipe from food and wine magazine.
happy weekend
good morning m'dears.
i'm still trying to soak warm back into my cells.
yesterday, i was shooting a short film that had me clad scantily in a 43 degree cemetery for most of the day.
at one point my earlobes started to shiver, and i started to envy those underground.
today is a different project.
this afternoon i get to run down the streets of l.a., screaming for my life.
alas, only to get stabbed to death in the end.
how are you gettin' into the spirit?
i'm over here
i've been a bit under the water weather.
holiday cheer can make katie a dull girl.
i wax and wane.
one minute i'm vomiting holly and tinsel on every eave and tabletop,
a day later i'm stomping my boots in fury at being honked at for letting a pregnant pedestrian, pushing a stroller, have the ride of way.
{by the way, never in my life have i not minded going to jail, than when i put my car in park intending to kick the horn honker's ass...luckily-for me-he drove away}.
but enough of these unsettled seas.
today my boots are only for toe tapping.
my christmas tree is up, it's beautiful, and yes, it's pink again.
happy tuesday m'loves.
boon, bam. bit, back.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xs72vl4h_pU&feature=player_embedded#!]
thank you mrs. burns for sharing.
let's all pray for our soldiers, world peace, and that hip-hop NEVER goes out of style.
polly
to the jerk-off who tore up my car yesterday without leaving a note,
i hope santa not only bypasses your house, but one of his reindeer soils on your roof mid-flight.
you are the mayor of suck-ville.
polly the prius needs major reconstructive surgery; she'll finally feel at home amongst all the newport beach housewives.
so fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la to you, you criminal coward.
the silver lining in this situation is that i'm not you.
i actually can't imagine the person you'd have to be, to not leave a note after hitting someone's car in a parking lot.
it really must suck to be you.
so the saying goes.....
when one door closes.......
the other door didn't just open, the hinges flew off and new dry wall had to be cut.
a new corridor practically.
i thought i was done with my tears.
i'm thankfully not.
goldfish bowls i fill of happy, grateful blubbering from the support i've been receiving.
one door definitely closed.
smack in my face.
but a grand new door, a door oozing with love and kindness opened instead.
thank you so much dear friends.
thirsty?
because i definitely could have filled your glasses last week.
the tears.
they. would. not. stop.
last wednesday marked my biggest audition to date.
a soap.
a soap i had watched as i child with my mom, characters that were an integral part of my adolescence (my body image/self-esteem/formulation of marital relationships). it's no wonder i'm on the couch once a week.
for auditions, usually i give myself an extra 45 minutes of time to allow for traffic, but for this one i padded an hour.
cut to the 405 freeway, 4 accidents, and 2 hours and 51 minutes later.
screeching my way onto the lot, i parked my car, and did my best chi-sprint through the studio {even though they wanted me camera ready glamour puss}.
i raced pass two big time stars lighting up prime time.
{i secretly hoped they'll soon be saying hi to me in the halls}
i got up to the 3rd floor, anaerobic, folded in half catching my breath.
looking in the mirror:
the run actually has done nice things for my cheeks, and given my pretty wind-blown hair.
score!
with a breathy voice (not fake fortunately) i walked into reception, gave them my name and character i'm reading for.
right away my stomach sinks. the sweet receptionist gives me the look the farmer's hand gives the pig right before the sow goes to slaughter.
giant footsteps come up behind me and mr casting director comes out from the office.
what time was your appointment? he asks {the tone so bitter you couldn't even sugar it up with a semi sweet chocolate chip).
9:45 i answer and then pathetically offer up my headshot and resume.
yeah, well it's 9:52? you should have been here no later than 9:45. we're already done.
and with that he spins around on his $400 converse sneaker, leaving my headshot in my outstretched beggar hand, and slams the office door.
if i wanted to be in the movies; this certainly felt like one.
so i did what the rejected actress would do in this scene:
i cried.
i cried, and cried, and cried.
i cried in starbucks. i cried in my car. i cried at The Grove. i cried in Nordstrom (although i always cry at Nordstrom-that place makes me crazy).
i cried in yoga.
i cried in the arms of my dear hunky hubby who said all the right supportive and encouraging things.
i've had the sweetest support around me, and i'm not discouraged (well maybe a little).
i know the whole when one door closes (and boy did it ever..right in my face) another one opens.
today i'm working on opening that next door.
i just have to get rid of these puffy eyes first.
clarification
although my inner molly jensen is save to correct some of you in yesterday's condolences;
i cannot, in good conscience, allow those of you to still falsely believe yesterday's toothless photograph is me.
i am shocked and flattered (even if she is missing a front tooth) that anyone of you would actually think that was me.
c'mon, it's demi moore. i'll take ANY comparison i can get, even if it is her twin, meth addicted sister.
nancy meyers? i'm smelling a script??!??!?
but alas, twas not me.
my vanity did not allow a camera within a 6 mile radius whilst my tooth was amiss.
aye aye matey
so here's the story of my missing tooth:
two hours into our drive up north i bit into a very soft, unsuspecting granola bar.
out came my front veneer!?!?
{childhood bout with spinal meningitis= crazy high fever=white spots on my teeth=false fangs}
let's focus.
so here i am last week, on vacation with (pardon my french) no fucking front tooth during binge fest 2010.
i walked around with a tube of fixodent and superglue, but still wasn't able to remedy mywest-virginia tee-rash look (as lovingly nicknamed by hh).
i saw a new dentist on monday and was given the dreadful news that i must get an entire new set of choppers. sadly, this isn't the first time one of them has popped off. i wonder if demi and i shared the same incompetent dentist?
suck.
back to life, back to reality
holy smokes!
two giant tubs of mail, over 400 emails, and a missing front tooth*.
welcome home katie.
*story to follow
a return to love
i am thankful for humility.
the angst i feel toward some is really just my own self distrust.
fear disguised as spite.
hurrah to pluck and faith.
happy thanksgiving to the bright side.