Well, it’s that time of year again.  The time where, after a Summer of detoxing, yoga-ing, juicing and being a wheat free Vegan, I’ve surrendered to the vodka, the cupcakes, the cozy nights in, cooking rich comfort food for my loved ones and waking them up to the smell of homemade pumpkin bread.

Meanwhile, my once only slightly annoying ass has spread into a mass of bulbonic plague proportions.  So after squeezing into a once-comfy pair of pants, I waddled my sausage casing of a body into the kitchen to ask the question every domestic partner dreads:

“Do I look fat in these pants?”

Richard did an excellent job of being sensitive and avoiding the question altogether.  “Eggs, honey?”

As I arrived to work this morning, I realized that every woman in the office is on a diet.  We sit.  We type.  We talk about our favorite Halloween candy and boozy treats which leads to an earnest plea to “please put ‘Go for a Walk’ on my Outlook calendar!  Let’s do this!”  Four hours and six mini-Snickers later, we have decided that YouTube and fashion blogs are so much more fun than walking outside in the rain.

Just then, I remembered something.  Every single boyfriend I’ve ever had had one thing in common:  they don’t care and they don’t notice.

They don’t care about the 6 pounds you gained over the holidays because they don’t notice.  You’ve got what they need.  The extra is like frosting on the cake, baby girl.  And that attraction is chemical.  You smell good to them.  Your body is like a magnet.  I think that we’re the ones obsessing over our bodies, comparing ourselves to the models we grew up with, taking our mothers words and twisting them, seeking perfection, whatever that may be.  The men?  I think they’re wired to love us for our goods.  You know.  The stuff they don’t have.  As my daughter calls it:  the Yoni and the Ninga.

I sighed and decided to take advantage of the rare Seattle sunshine and grabbed my wallet.  Inside, I found this:

So just hush, little darlings.  Put your yoni and your ningas in something stretchy (I mean, I can’t sing the praises of leggings and dresses enough!) and relax.  Because someone, somewhere thinks you’re hot stuff and is willing to write it down on Hello Kitty stationary.

I just discovered this great blog caled PS I Made This.  The embellished shoulder pads and faux fur vest are my favorites so far, but I also can’t wait to make some of those Jonathan Adler-esque vases and jars with my daughter.

Perfect timing, because last night I partook in some inebriating substances and had a come-to-Jesus of sorts that left me writing an endless to-do-list of ways to make my life more creative and genuine.  Less cleaning counters and stressing about work, more making things and making memories.  Less talking and more doing.  Less comparing myself and more discovering myself.  And while we’re at it, less baking cookies and more hot yoga. 

But that’s another blog for another day.

I can’t believe how many weird manufactured sexy costumes are on the shelves this year.  I guess I never noticed it before.  Even the kiddo costumes are nauseating, like this “Upstairs Maid” get-up sized for an 8 year old.

Daddy, can I sit on your lap?

Ew.

I get the feeling this one is getting a new pair of boobs for graduation.

I understand why girls want to feel and look sexy on Halloween.  They believe male attention and female jealousy is validation of their hotness.  We live in a time where girls are growing up with Gossip Girl and steamy vampire love stories.  It’s not uncommon for teens to sport fake nails, fake breasts, fake tans and real Coach bags.  A friend of mine has a daughter in a prestigious private High School and her peers are receiving BMW’s for their 16th birthday.

Once you achieve ultimate hotness at the age of 16 and a car that costs as much as a small condo, then what?  Once you’ve been a sexy French Maid for Halloween, what are you next year?  Laura Ingells Wilder?  I don’t think so.

I don’t think pot is a gateway drug to Heroin, so I’m not going to say that sexy Halloween costumes are a gateway to teen pregnancy and a life of venereal diseases, but I will say that kids just need to be kids for as long as possible.  Parents need to draw that shit out for as long as they possibly can.  They’re not going to get beat up because they don’t have cable.  They’re not going to fail at life because they don’t have their own laptop, a new car, an iPhone.  They’re not going to end up hating you for all of eternity and throw you in a nursing home where you’ll be neglected and left to drown in tapioca pudding because you said “no” once in awhile.  In fact, as grown-ups, they’ll probably appreciate the fact that they suffered a tiny bit like every teenager should.  Teen angst rules.  It inspired some of rock and roll’s best moments and has created a plethora of highly influential artists and writers.

Can we just all agree to not buy Halloween costumes?  For the earth, for your pocket book and for this little guy?

Thanks.

Candles lit, Dolly Parton on the record player and me, doused in flour and stirring something over a steaming pot.

That was this weekend.

Here in Seattle, the trees are going into full-on fall mode, and the colors are outrageous.  Green, yellow, orange, red, purple all on the same branch.  These colors against the bright blue sky in the warm autumnal sunlight…it’s simply gorge to the max.  Thick tights under tall boots, warm wool coat and fingerless gloves, I went to the grocery and got a bunch of yummy fall-ish foods and cooked all weekend long.  Banana nut muffins and almond cashew granola for breakfast, and roasted asparagus and butternut squash risotto for dinner.  My man said the dinner was one of the best ever, so I’m posting here for all you ladies and gents to inspire romance and baby making practice on these cozy fall nights.

Little Pink Devotional’s Roasted Asparagus

• As much asparagus as you and your guests can eat, and then some
• Olive oil
• Sea salt
• Fresh cracked pepper

Pre-heat oven to 400.  Wash your asparagus and trim the bottoms.  Spread out on a roasting pan or shallow oven-proof dish.  Drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with sea salt and cracked pepper and toss to coat.  Throw her in the oven and roast for 25-30 minutes, until asparagus looks nice and roasty, kind of crispy-ish but not charred and shriveled.

Voodoo Love Spell Butternut Squash Risotto

• 3 cups of Arborio rice
• 6 cups of chicken or vegetable broth
• 1/2 cup dry white wine, warmed
• 1 medium yellow onion
• 1/2 cup cream
• Good parmesan cheese
• Fresh sage and fresh tarragon (about 3 leaves each, to taste)
• 1 large butternut squash
• 1 tablespoon butter or olive oil
• Sea salt
• Fresh cracked pepper

Heat oven to 400.  Put on some good music, pour yourself a glass of wine and roll up your sleeves - it’s time to prep your squash.  With a vegetable peeler, peel off the white skin of the squash.  Cut in half lengthwise and with a spoon, scoop out the squash guts.  Cut the squash into 3/4 inch cubes.  Spread your cute little butternut cubes on a jelly roll pan (that’s just a cookie sheet with a rim around it), drizzle with olive oil, sea salt and pepper and toss to coat.  Roast for 35 minutes or so, tossing once, until cubes are carmely and tender.

About 20 minutes into the squash roastin’, start your risotto.  In a sauce pan, heat your broth.  In a large heavy bottomed pan melt your butter or olive oil.  Add the onion and cook until transluscent.  Remove the cooked onion and set aside.  Add the rice to the pan and stir for about 8 minutes, until transluscent.  Bring back the onion, add the warm wine and chopped herbs, and stir until liquid is absorbed.  Add the hot broth one ladle at a time, and stir until liquid is absorbed.  Continue adding broth, one-two ladles at a time, stirring until liquid is absorbed, until rice is cooked through but still al dente.  Add cream, parmesan and butternut squash, stir gently until warmed through.  Salt and pepper to taste.  This makes about 6 main-course servings and is even better the next day.

The cream and butter should be omitted for a less decadent and more authentic risotto, but this is a voodoo love spell.  So throw caution to the wind and just do it.  It’s freaking awesome and you’re going to burn off all the calories in the bedroom later *wink wink*.

xo!

Last night, around 6 PM, the sky opened up and poured buckets of rain onto the streets of Seattle.  The thunder boomed overhead and echoed across the tall buildings downtown, over to Elliott Bay and it’s sprinkling of pretty boats and ferries.  Despite what everyone thinks, it rarely really RAINS here.  Sure, it drizzles.  Yeah, it’s gray and glum in the winter.  But the heavens prefer to tease us with low hanging clouds rather than really deliver the goods.

And you know something?  I love the rain.  It’s cleansing, and every city needs a good bath once in awhile. As previously mentioned in my Pumpkin post, I love to embrace the crappy weather and just surrender to the chokehold of coziness.  It’s so much more pleasant that complaining about it (which doesn’t bring the sunshine, by the way). 

So, I walked home in the rain, my bouncy curls becoming wet strands of sadness, and I slipped into something comfy, lit every candle I own, and started to cook.

I made a batch of split pea soup, a loaf of Irish Soda bread and a hot, bubbly peach, pear, blueberry cobbler. 

The house smelled like a tiny little cottage in the woods, inhabited by seven dwarfs and a raven-haired princess.  It was pretty great.  And, as I entered the office this morning, coffee in hand and hair freshly curled, I mused to myself, holy cake flour!  I could very well be the human embodiment of the Virgin Mary!  Or at least, a real Twenty First Century Fox!

And then I proceeded to spill the contents of my mug onto my dress and boots and thought, maybe not.

But still!

It was easy, and you should try it.

Little Pink Devotional’s Split Pea Soup

• 1 bag of split peas, rinsed and picked through
• Medium white or yellow onion, chopped
• 2-3 big carrots, peeled and chopped in coins
• 2-3 celery stalks, chopped
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 tsp Sea Salt
• White pepper to taste
• Pinch of allspice
• 1 vegetable boullion cube or 8 cups of vegetable broth
• Drizzle of olive or vegetable oil

Get out your big soup pot and drizzle in your oil over medium heat.  Add the onion, celery and carrots and cover it until the carrots are barely tender, about 10 minutes, stirring every few minutes.  Throw in the peas, seasonings and liquid- 8 cups of water and a veggie bouillion cube or 8 cups of veggie broth.  If you’re doing a cube, take some of the water, heat it and dissolve the cube first.  Bring your soup to a boil, stir it up, then lower the heat, let the mofo simmer while you make your bread.  Be sure to stir it up and scrape the bottom often so it doesn’t burn.  After about 30 minutes, the peas will soften and your soup will look like bright green, beautiful baby food.  You can get fancy and add a dollop of creme fraiche and some chives, or you can throw it in your Worlds Best Grandpa mug and eat it while watching Full House re-runs.  Do as you wish.

P.S. It’s vegan, but no one else needs to know.

Little Pink Devotional’s Irish Soda Bread

• 4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 T baking powder
• 1 tsp sea salt
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 6 T cold butter or marg
• 1 1/2 c buttermilk*

Preheat oven to 350.  Grease a cookie sheet.  Add all dry ingredients to a large bowl and mix well.  With a pastry blender, cut in the cold butter until mixture looks like little crumbs.  If you don’t have a pastry blender, just use a fork or your hands.  Add the buttermilk and stir just until it’s all wet.  Over blending will turn your bread into a hockey puck.  Now comes the fun part.  Lightly coat your countertop and hands with flour.  Take your dough and knead it 8 times on the countertop.  Isn’t dough great?  I want to start a dough club, where all we do is make dough, eat it off our fingers and then go home.  Anyway.  Shape your dough into a rough, cute dough ball.  Sprinkle with a little flour.  With a serrated knife, make a big badass “X” on the top of the dough, about 1/4 inch deep.  Put it on your cookie sheet and pop it in the oven for about 60 minutes.  When it’s done, put your loaf on a cooling rack and let it hang out while you clean up and set the table and stuff.  This is so good hot, slathered in butter or honey or jam or lemon curd or slices of parmesan cheese or Nutella or whatever. 

*If you don’t have buttermilk (which, I never do) just take 1 T of apple cider vinegar or lemon juice and add milk to measure.

Now I’m too hungry to post the cobbler recipe.  So, just enjoy your soup and bread and go to Dairy Queen later or something.

xo!