Category: culture

New Wave of Food

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Deconstructing a known food dish has been very popular in restaurants for years.  You take something, say a carrot cake, and you put apart the components to recreate a new eating experience.  With the carrot cake example, the raisins in the cake would become a purée, the carrot a sorbet, the cake a fluffy microwave cake, the rum a caramel sauce, the brown sugar would be crystallized for a crunch.  The spices would be an aroma.

Why don’t we call it a reconstruction? You are not simply tearing down, you are recreating.  A reconstruction has endless possibilities. In order to create you first must destroy.  This we know.  But after that epic destruction of mayhem and feelings of regret, overwhelmed by everything that must still happen, you must rebuild.  This is twilight hour, let’s reinvent, don’t stop early now.

Internet Dating

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Spotify knows me WAY better than google.

Get a clue looser, it’s not working.  You don’t appeal to me, or Marinara, Mari Mari, and we all know Marigold’s stance on google’s impression.  Nobody is dazzled with your understanding of any of my personalities.  I would say that I give you a lot of material to work with, but you are only appealing to… I don’t even know.  I don’t understand your angle, google.

That Spotify, though, has it going on.  It has my taste down better that I even know.  I thought that I didn’t have a type, with my wide range of personalities, but Spotify does not see this Gemini trait as restrictive. It works with my wide open field of musical tastes, and comes up with recommendations that I love even more I could know on my own.  That is what we call boyfriend material.  It will recommend to me my favorite songs that I have forgotten about, new ones that I cannot live without.

Google is a creep, but Spotify is super cute.  Probably strong too.

Insomia Inspirations

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The cicadas are singing although the summer’s sizzle remains silent.

The wind’s whistle has wound down to whispers of forgotten wonders.

The clamorous children have chilled down to cool calm, keeping clandestine clues of their company.

The people parade past peacefully, particularly predisposed to participating in practical partying.

Sleep should be sound, but my psyche is still spinning swiftly, severely sidetracked from the summertime slumber.

Why eating in America Sucks #4

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Our reliance on disposable product.

Not just disposable, but as an additional insult to our mother earth, non compostable. I know you don’t want to throw away those overcooked eggs left from brunch, but think about the environmental impact of that Styrofoam container that is your to-go bag.  I understand that you didn’t pick that vessel, but that is what exists and that is what you are going to get.

If I do take my divine leftovers, I ask for it to be wrapped in aluminum.  Straight-up.  When the server comes to the table, I say please just wrap it up like a burrito in a sheet of foil.  All restaurants have tin foil and it is the least amount of packaging available that can serve as a doggie bag.  If they won’t do that, then I don’t want the rest of my plate.

Also, to mention, I am pretty sure that you are not supposed to microwave Styrofoam because of toxic chemicals in this lightweight plastic mutant.  I understand that Styrofoam was developed and is so widely used because it is spectacular for thermal insulation, but unfortunately this hexagonal crunchy structure of  probably hydrogenated plastic is not the right answer.

Every Styrofoam container should come with a warning label, like the kind found on cigarette packages.  Warning: this product will certainly add to global warning, pose a hazard to wildlife, contains carcinogens and release some 57 chemicals with the heating of this foam that can lead to cancer.  How would that change the food service industry?

It’s not your fault portion sizes are too big, I know, but maybe try a small plate and split your American meal designed for one.

It’s not your fault, but you are part of the circus.  You didn’t interview for it, but that doesn’t matter.  Styrofoam is not acceptable under any circumstances.  This goes beyond our dependence on plastic, this includes an active role to cut down on waste that will continue to haunt the world for millennia.

Throwing away food is wrong, but so is compromising the environment because we don’t know how to responsibly store food.  Do your part, and do not support this closed cell polystyrene foam system that is so convenient for handling hot foods, being both lightweight and strong.  It is not responsible, especially since you know that this “disposable” product is not biodegradable and there is no recycling practice in place.  If you aren’t swayed by the health risked posed to mother earth, be swayed by the health risk posed to yourself.

Ruby Darling

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I name lots of things that are important to me.  It’s fun, it gives material things the importance they deserve with a name.  They are tools and machines that make life not just easier and simpler, but so much more.   More fun, they are a means for creativity, visual enhancement for the sake of beauty, a vehicle to aid in daily life, a lens of self-expression.  As I think about naming my new camera, I am reminded the names of things I have, how they came about, and why they are important.

I have already published a dissertation on Turnip, my white bike.  Turnips two-wheeled counterpart is Pauline.  She is a purple Schwinn cruiser with purple sparkly handle bars, the original S on the seat, and a large basket in the front.  She is named after a song, for the lyric “everything is so easy for Pauline.”  That’s the cruisers mantra, great for a lazy summer days, gliding around town.

But Ruby Darling.  Ruby Darling is one of my most prized possessions, an unpredictably perfect machine for me, a travel sized companion to whom I can tell all my secrets.  She keeps none of them.  Ruby Darling is my means to spill my guts to the world, to preserve my feelings, emotions, thoughts, ideas, and odd expressions to anybody out there.  Ruby Darling files and organizes, she processes and simplifies.  She checks my spelling and everything.  She not only communicates to the world at large, she keeps my friendships burning and my professional life spinning.  Ruby Darling pours out the song in my spirit, keeps the music playing all day long.

Ruby Darling, without your technological glow as a guiding light, I might feel lost.

Ruby Darling’s real life name is Surface Pro 2, a nice sorta fickle tablet that is perfect for this nice sorta fickle gal.

I’m a Rebel! Again.

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Are you as excited as I am to see the portraits from this guys eye?  Are you excited to see the pictures he captures with his sleek shutterbugs style?  My new guy is modern, he is certified to communicate with the oracle. I am very thrilled with my new aperture to the world, a new mirror to reflect my reality, a fresh focus on my daily routine.

Stayed tuned for the name, Marigold is sure to have a full christening explanation.

Chocolate Cake, Coconut Frosting, and Mango

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I have another niece on the way, she is busy brewing in the belly currently.  She is already fighting to get out, ready to match her rambunctious older cousin.  I can’t wait to meet her and watch her grow up and see how she changes the world.  Both of my nieces have the best parents imaginable, and I feel so special that I get to be a part of the munchkins lives.

Today we are celebrating my new niece’s mother in particular, showering her with love, support, and all of our best wishes.  As a token of what I can contribute, which is mainly food, I am making a chocolate cake with a hazelnut crunch layer, coconut frosting, served with a mango compote.

These are the flavors of the mom, her personality simplified into a dessert.  Its all about the tummy today!

Vision and Dependence

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I loose like everything.  I am a loser, certainly.  The first thing to do, is to look for said lost item.  You use your set of sparkling irises to look, scanning every room, trying to locate your lost set of keys or the misplaced cellular phone.  Remember when the phone used to be connected to the wall, and losing your phone was not an issue?  I bet if you asked people nowadays, they would say that losing or breaking their phone is high on the stress list.

When you can’t find the lost item with you eyes, the next step is more cognitive.  You retrace your movements, remember your motions, and deduce the most logical spot where you placed the item.  If these two methods fail, you are screwed.  There is no back-up plan, there is no gravity in your fingertips that will attract the lost thing to you.  Finding something lost is nothing about a feeling, or desire, its all about the eyes.

If you can’t see it, its gone.  Just like that.  We rely so heavily on this visual tool, its amazing that more things do not get lost.  I wish we had a back-up plan for physical organization that transcends this one way of solving the riddle.

Don’t tell me to get a key hook, that does not work.  Organizing is very important, but sometimes the system fails.  And when it does, you wish that phones were still connected to the wall, the front door key is under the welcome mat. Because this is your only salvation, we have not evolved to have another plan for finding lost items which cannot speak for themselves.  I bet Google will figure this out for us…?  He is a creep like that and cannot wait to read your mind.

The Magnetic Eye

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It is as if eyes want to meet you in the street.  Eyes know when another set of eyes are pondering upon them.  It is not a thought process, it is a feeling, a burning intuition that every person has. It’s not a girl thing, or a cultural thing, it’s a human thing.  It is a chemistry thing.  This pull has nothing to do with the thought process, it is a strong innate reaction.

Have you ever tried staring at a person and have them not look up immediately?  Unless they are very focused, in which it might take a full minute for them to realize, normally you are not even trying to look at a person before their lids up open and those irises are pointed directly into yours.

For example, you are on the train and you are trying to glance out the window, but you happen to notice anything, just anything, about the line of people directly across from you.  Just about every damn time, they look back at you for that one instance.  They know that you are not looking at them in particular, but if the gaze goes in that direction, the other set of eye balls answer right back.

There are magnets in the irises, a deep gravity in that mysterious white background of the diamond iris lens that pulls other eye balls into your depth of vision.

Self Portrait

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I am starting to think of myself as an artist, instead of a worker bee.  I am a good worker bee, I buzz around merrily keeping the honey pot nearly filled with sweet nectar.  The hexagonal home is beautiful in its repation and oh so practical… you see why its appealing.

I am starting to reconsider that the appreciation for beauty does not stop there.  I want to create it.  I want to be more then simply a part of it.  I want to create a beautiful concept and decorated it, let it step out so that its concrete beauty can inspire people.

Maybe I am an artist?  What does that even mean?  Does that even matter? No.  It doesn’t.  I am skipping with Marigold’s steps, relaxing with Marinara.  I am following my creative fingertips, hoping that I will find some magic.

Wish Us Luck!

-Marigold, Marinara, Mari Mari