conjuring the intuitive cook in you
The house computer. The community device every Bayoc child uses. I sat there one Wednesday night, expecting to quickly look up my Amazon order, and lo’ and behold, my browser said “www.porn@#!.com/allthingsinappropriateforaBayocChild. What?!?!?! Someone’s been Watching Porn? On the house computer? And it wasn’t me (cause I’d nevah evah evah (!)… use the house computer … Continue reading Porn… and Almond Errthang Cookie Dough Bites
I am not one of those yogis who likes to hear a bunch of talking from my yoga teacher while in class, but the other night my teacher was on one. “Envision the word relief as you inhale and FEEL the word relief as you exhale. Again, envision the word…” “Now, dedicate this class to … Continue reading Mis-heard Yoga Mantras…and Crabless Rangoons with Quick Pepper Sauce
I was sitting on my couch working on menu development, when my daughter grabbed the remote control to scan Netflix. She happened to be on my account and saw my “currently watching” list. “You were watching Magic Mike?” she asked. She’s 16. And though not familiar with all of Mike’s magic in real life…obviously familiar … Continue reading Just a Story and a Recipe for Your Memories
“Is that sweat on my shin? Is that sweat on my muthafuckin shin??” I said internally, cause in hot yoga no one talks except the teacher. And you don’t want to be that person. All loud and amazed you still haven’t fainted doing this shit. It’s terribly distracting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen … Continue reading Sweaty Shins and Banana-Walnut-Chocolate Chip Cookies
A little secret about me: I am amazingly self-social. I very much enjoy my own company. When I am at the shop, in the the kitchen baking and making all that love and magic, I prefer to do so solo–but most times I can’t. Growth just won’t let my self-social ways be great. When customers … Continue reading Confidence and Cauliflower
I have this recurring dream. I’ve had it since my mother’s death almost five years ago. I cry in the dream, and I am sometimes still crying when I wake up. Last night I had the dream again, and I woke up talking to my mother…asking her to watch over my children…awake and mournfully somber that … Continue reading My Recurring Dream… and Sweet Potato Biscuits
This is what I know for sure (Ahem…cue my inner Oprah): Hot yoga is not loyal to my twist out. Not. At. All. Stepped into that class and that heat, honeyyyyy, it triiiiiiiiiiiied all of my black.girl.magic. Stepped out of that class and my hair was less like Cheetos and more like Cheese Puffs. And … Continue reading Hot Yoga…and a Mexican Hot Chocolate Tart
