Cooking and Cleaning and Scrubbing the Tub

Yesterday I went into a cleaning frenzy the likes of which hasn't been seen in our apartment in quite some time. I enlisted the help of K and dove headfirst into an all day scrub fest. Bucket of bleach and soap with yellow rubber glove in tow, I scrubbed every inch of tile and swept like a crazy person. We gave the apartment a very thorough head to toe cleaning. We took a break to make a brunch of sorts with poached eggs, steamed spinach, oatmeal and my good friend bacon.

We completely rearranged the living room which does double duty as my office/editing suite. We decided to part with two chairs that the cat has basically destroyed. They were these beautiful danish midcentury modern molded plywood chairs that someone had thrown into the trash. K and I had found them when we first started dating and he helped me carry them home. We carried both chairs out to the curb and ashes to ashes, dust to dust, the cycle was complete and they returned to the place from where they once came. There is a new zen quality to the space and everything is so much more open and flowing. It feels good to get rid of some of the clutter and get the space to a place where it can breath again.

The desk used to face a wall and now it faces a window. It seems so much more inspiring to sit looking out the window rather than staring at the cold plaster wall.

I feel like I'm going through my own personal spring. Doing the spring cleaning and preparing for my own garden to start blossoming. Lord knows it feels like spring with how much rain we've been getting. It never seems to stop. I know it will soon enough though. There are good things ahead.

Day 12 is sponsored by bacon

Nothing says I love you
like a sizzling plate full of crispy delicious pig candy.


Welcome to day 12 of my life without cigarettes.
I'd like to take this time to thank our sponsor
for day 12... Bacon.








Just what the doctor ordered.

9 out of 10 doctors recommend fried bacon as an important
part of any healthy balanced diet.***

***Any claims of health benefits from bacon and all statistics regarding them are purely the ficticious creation and malinformed opinion of the author of this post. Prolonged exposure to bacon and/or bacon fat may cause cancer, birth defects, chronic diarrhea, migraine headaches, anal bleeding and miscarriage. Children under 3 should only be given bacon under close adult supervision with the recommendation of a board certified physician. In some individuals bacon may cause a rare but serious condition
known as bacon fever. If you experience foaming at the mouth, irrational anger, paranoia or night tremors, please contact your local poison control center.

Temptation thy name is iphone

Much like the apple that tempted eve,
this little apple is another forbidden fruit,
a pandora's box if you ask me. Do I need the internet in my pocket? No one needs the internet in their pocket.
Oh so sleek. Must resist. Must be sensible and spend money on recording equipment.
I am buying a new preamp for the studio this week, afterall. Not as much fun as an iphone yet more expensive. ugh.

My phone is a $20 samsung brick off of ebay. It barely texts
and sometimes it just shuts off spontaneously.
so sad.I had a phone for a while where I had to shove a cuticle trimmer into it to turn it on and off. I referred to it as my phone tooI. I remember a stranger catching me in an ATM vestibule fighting with my phone, yelling at it and shoving the phone tool in and out of it. My reaction was to laugh hysterically further promoting a first impression that I might not be stable or sane. I feel like jesus wants me to have an iphone. My ipod now only plays music in one side...only one ear...and my phone spontaneously started shutting itslelf off 3 days before the launch of the new iphone. That has to be jesus, right?
Oh and I got a $30 gift certificate to apple for my birthday.... Jesus?

I can try to justify it all I want, but in my heart I know that I do not need an iphone.
I shall spend my money on rice, beans, bacon and recording equipment.
I must make sacrifices for the greater good. :)

An Avid Bacon Lover Laments the slaughter of sandbag pigs

It's a well known fact that I have a rather unhealthy obsession with bacon or as I like to call it PIG CANDY. However, I also have an extreme fondness for pigs. I've never fully been able to reconcile these two opposing loves. So, when I saw a story about Iowa officials killing a group of pigs that managed to swim to the safety of a levy after being left behind in the floodwaters, I obviously had conflicted views. If the pigs were not also used to provide bacon for some homeless family in Iowa, then their deaths were indeed senseless. Ok, not senseless. The pigs were poking holes in sandbags with their hooves and rooting around, but you get the idea.

More on the pigs...

After the Honeymoon. Canibalism

I have been very drawn to the ocean lately, though this is not a new thing.
I started to write a rather silly song, which is a sequel to fishnet sailor called "Taste Like Chicken." It's one of those songs that wrote itself in one day.
Sometimes it's the silly songs that help to keep my afloat. I've been mired in heavy writing lately and I just want something light and fun. Who's down for an album of sea shanties? haha

I recorded a demo in my apartment that sounds surprisingly good as demos go.

Here's a tiny snipet of lyrics.

"The ocean's carving shapes in the sand as it pushes the seashells ashore.
It's 60 days since we've both seen land, and I'm wondering
Would you taste like chicken if I had to eat you? We shared some good times before we sailed to sea. We shared some good times before we sailed to sea.

Don't get me wrong, cuz I love you dear
but I'd sell you down river for a sandwich and a beer.
Don't have the answers but the question is clear.
Would you taste like chicken if I had to eat you?"

Yes, I know. I shouldn't write songs between meals when my blood sugar is low. Poor K is wondering if he should sleep with one eye open after this little ditty popped out of my mouth. Don't worry baby, I won't eat you. Based on my bacon consumption, I'd probably taste like pork if someone had to eat me to survive.

I must have been hungry when I recorded that album

photo by the very busy Carrie Thomas

I am a foodie by nature, the food version of a Junkie.
I love cooking, eating and fantasizing about food. I guess it should come as no surprise that this obsession has creeped into the new album. I realized last night that I talk a lot about food on this album. As many of you know, I have a bacon fixation. Last Saturday was K's birthday. He asked for something fatty and decadent. I of course made him fried pork chops cooked in a blend of bacon fat, butter and Crisco. I swear I am not trying to kill him.

Thus far, the following food items have made it into the lyrics and let me just say that it sounds like I'm cooking up the heartattack special at the Greasy Spoon Diner.

chocolate, bacon, biscuits, gravy, pickles,flapjacks, mashed potatoes, milk, meatloaf, chicken, and eggs.

Missing K

Picture taken in Delaware while vacationing with Mr. Carpentier

Our schedules are so out of Wack that I feel like I barely see K anymore, and when I do I am at that place where I am fighting the urge to sleep, not because K isn't interesting but rather the fact that it is past midnight. There are rumors that this state of affairs is temporary, so I will cling to hope like a fatty clinging to her last strip of bacon....mmm...Bacon. There is a full package in the fridge. I can't wait to eat it.

Biscuits,Paddleboats and 2am Riots

Photo of the Prospect Park Boathouse by Carrie Thomas

K and I decided to host a brunch on Sunday at the apartment. Actually, I guess I coerced K into being my accomplice, but he didn't seem to mind.

As a tribute to the art of procrastination, we found ourselves at the local pathmark at 2am, waiting in line. I needed this cheese grater very badly, but when we were checking out, the girl couldn't find a code for it, so she refused to sell it to us. It was extraordinarily traumatic and at that point I was seeing double. After arguing with her, we left pathmark loaded up like pack mules, mutually exhausted, and lacking the much needed cheese grater.
We dropped to sleep exhausted and woke up too late, scurrying and hurrying to make ourselves and the apartment presentable for our guests.

Our feast was prepared in record time.
As, I tend to do with such things, I went a little overboard.
There was fruit salad, miniature fritata with mushroom,spinach, tomato and Gruyere Cheese. There were home fries,biscuits,bacon and sausage.

We ran around like headless chickens getting everything ready, but we both love the domestic bliss that comes with cooking up some love in the kitchen.

We had a lovely brunch with Steve, Matt, Marc and the lovely Danielle Flores who is gracing our city with her presence at the moment. I'm sure LA is a sad place without her, but we aren't complaining.

After brunch had ended we build a mountain of dirty plates in the kitchen and admired their grandeur before flooding them in suds to soak.

We decided to head over to the park and visit the Audubon center. Whilst crossing a bridge we noticed a lovely Hispanic family riding a paddle boat. We decided that we just simply must also ride a paddle boat. Despite standing feet away from the boathouse, we had no clue as to where we might rent said paddle boat, so we ran along the shore yelling at the family, trying to find out where they got their boat.

Seeing as the family only spoke Spanish, this was a fruitless task. I learned in the process that having a last name like Flores does not mean you necessarily know Spanish. What a disappointment. We finally discovered that we could rent a paddle boat at the boathouse, an idea that was too obvious to be fact.

We got our boat after waiting for an hour and traversed the waters of Prospect park. It was great to see the swan family that K and I have been watching for months. The babies have gotten so big.

I had a very intense discussion with a Canadian goose, which decided to swim along side us quacking at me while I quacked back. At one point, it was decided that I was upsetting the goose and should refrain from talking to it. With hesitation, I bid my feathered friend adieu and focused on my paddling.

after returning the paddle boat, I discovered that my legs had turned to jello and that the only solution was to drink a margarita. I'm not sure that it was the only solution, but I'm going to keep telling myself that it was necessary after slaving in the sun, paddling ms. Flores around like a goddess. All she needed was a parasol to make it a perfect day.

We hung out with Danielle and Laura for the rest of the evening, walking home after hanging in Park Slope. Walking by the park we passed an army of hundreds of NYPD officers lined up as if they were preparing for war. It was the West Indian Parade the next day. I had been told that things get crazy, but I had no idea. We went to bed thinking nothing of it.

At 2am, the sound of a marching band and drums came pounding through our windows. We stepped outside to see hundreds and hundreds of Caribbeans running through the streets screaming and waving flags from their respective islands. It was as if every single building and opened its doors and flooded the street with people. There was something beautiful and unsettling about it. We ran back inside and hid, not exactly sure if this was supposed to be happening, not exactly sure if the police were going to start beating people. We finally fell asleep to the sound of drums. I woke at 4am to hear a similar sound to the 2am commotion, but decided to ignore it. I woke again at 10:30 and made myself a quick breakfast of toast and jam before rushing out the door to be at the studio by 12.

I was surprised to see that the streets were calm and quiet as though nothing had happened. I walked to the subway with tribal drums in my head. Upon arriving to the studio I began to record a beat by hitting my stomach layered with hand claps. Something primal from the early morning energy had found its way to my soul.

Petra, I feel you

Having a history of falling for men who were no good for me, I feel a special bond with a girl named Petra in Germany. Her story is both fascinating and tragic and not mine to tell. Sweet Petra, like bacon and famine You are in my thoughts daily.

Read her story

Sally Struthers, We Need Your Help!

As I wander through this world shoving doughnuts and bacon down my spoiled American throat, I sometimes worry about all the starving children in Africa. In all seriousness, there is no excuse for a huge chunk of the African continent going without food.

It is then that I realize we have a problem of our own, right here in this good nation.
It's Terry Hatcher. We've watched her blossom as an actress first on Lois and clark, then those wonderful Radio Shack commercials with her hubby. She has finally found her place in the spotlight with Desperate housewives and let me just say, that spotlight shines right through her bony frame like a japanese lantern.

I think it's time to call our good friend Sally Struthers and get her a guest spot on Desperate Housewives. Someone needs to feed Terry Hatcher and though I do suspect that some of the food ends up in Sally's Trailer, in the end a good portion still makes it to those children.

If you really care about Terry Hatcher, you will join me in sending her cookies, doughnuts and protein bars. Don't let this bright star burn out long before her time. We need you healthy, Terry. We care about you.

Science has failed us

I awoke this week to the unsettling news that Pluto is no longer a planet. It had in fact been demoted to dwarf planet. This came at the same time that I found out I had slipped from number 4 to number 10 on the Sirius Countdown.

As you can well imagine, It was a devastating day, more for the fall of pluto than my position on the countdown, but the combination of the two sent me into a downward spiral from which I am just now recovering.

I was barely able to eat my BLT last night as thoughts of pluto's demise still reverberated through my confused head. How could they do this to us? Why did I feel so empty, so cold inside? Apparently, Pluto had provided a comfort to which a value could not be assigned, much like bacon.

I began to go through the stages of loss. Anger, denial....
bargaining. I was ready to do anything to make it all go away....To make the world right again.

As my fellow American's stuff their faces with fast food fatness, overeating to obese results, Pluto has somehow slipped through our fat fingers into the abyss, the victim of our need for bigger, better, and bolder.

Are we all going to sit back, complacent? Is this really the end?

The world no longer makes sense. You can't take hand sanitizer on a plane, but snakes on a plane? Sure.

Pluto's not a planet? Why???? Why???? Why???? Pass the bacon, please.

photo used with the kind permission of the multitalented, Carrie Thomas

This Friday, August 4th, be sure to grab your copy of Next Magazine.

I did an interview with Next Editor in chief, Greg T. Angelo, which will grace its pages.

I'm tickled pink like a pot belly pig...and Yes, there may be mention of my bacon problem, which is apparently attracting media attention.

I feel almost like an ambassador for other bacon addicts. It is my privilege to speak out on an issue that I know affects so many people. I hope that my work will help many of you to come out of the shadows and speak openly about your experiences with overindulgence in pork products. With greasy hands and swollen hearts, we can face this battle together.

Bacon Rehab

Can someone please do some research and let me know if the Betty Ford Clinic has a bacon ward?

I ate an entire package of bacon yesterday.
It started with an innocent sandwich on a pita consisting of avocado, bacon, tomato, and mayo.

The other half of the package of bacon kept calling to me though. Three hours later, I marked my downward spiral and possible inclusion into the heart attack hall of fame when I made a bacon and mayo sandwich on pita bread that I fried in the bacon fat. (See previous post regarding my butter problem)

Who eats an entire package of bacon?...not to mention like 3 tablespoons of Mayo.

Photo taken by Carrie Thomas in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn