chocolate chip zucchini

My mom has been making me chocolate chip zucchini cake since I was little. Some people call it bread, but let's be honest, it's cake. It's chocolatey and most, and super delicious, but it's like 50% zucchini, so you can pretend it's good for you, and eat the whole thing.

These pictures aren't great, I was making it late at night for my husband's grandpa's birthday the next day, plus it was during that ridiculous heat wave where even the thought of turning on the oven made you want to burst into tears, but I still made it. That's how good this cake is.

I used this recipe, and some fresh zucchini from the farmer's market. This is actually really quick and easy to make, especially if you have a food processor to grate the zucchini for you.

artsy

It's been a super busy week at work, today was the first day that I was actually able to take a lunch break, I blame you, Comic Con.

Today is a gorgeous day in the city and I was super hungry so I decided to go out for a walk and see what I could scrounge up for snacks. I've been working in the same place for a year now, but I hardly ever eat out at lunch so when I do I tend to just run to the same place every time. Boringggg.

While I was out wandering I came across an art supply store so I poked my head inside to look around, hoping that my lack of paint splattered overalls and thick rimmed glasses wouldn't give me away as a complete art store newb. I've been wanting to take more art classes for a while now, but it never seems to work out, they are always during the week day? Who is taking art classes on a week day afternoon? Jealous.

I ended up buying a bunch of stuff that I don't really know how to use, but I'm going to have lots of fun experimenting. The colours were so pretty, and I harbour a secret suspicion that I am actually a masterfully spectacular artist, and the only reason my talent has remained hidden for so long is my lack of access to pastels.

And I never did end up getting lunch.

I wanted ALL THE COLOURS! but they are kind of expensive

I don't know what I would make with this. Probably a snow man. But it's beautiful.

loveliness

Some lovely things I'm liking today:

Links here.

i don't wanna be a grown up...

I remember when I was a little kid, thinking that 26 was so old. I pictured myself at 26 having everything I wanted. I thought I would be a whole different person, someone who didn't bite their nails, or go to bed without brushing their teeth sometimes, or wear mismatched socks. I thought by 26 I would be a finished product, and would carry on throughout my life as this perfect version of myself, with no bad habits, no flaws, and a completely clear plan of what I wanted to do, and how I was going to make that happen.

Honestly, I really don't feel that different from 5 year old me. I don't think we actually change that much, certainly our interests and tastes and those things can evolve, but the person we are at the very center of everything, I think that's us, for better or worse, for life.
 

Really the only difference for me between now and then, is that now instead of having someone else make decisions for me, I am making them for myself, and sometimes I really don't feel like I have any more insight into what I should be doing than I did at 5 years old.

I make myself go to the dentist now, and force myself to get a flu shot even though I would rather be doing anything else (do flu shots even really work?) but the feelings I have about those things, and so many other things haven't changed. I would still eat chocolate frosting right out of the jar for every meal if I wasn't already pretty sure I was going to develop diabetes from my sugar habits earlier in life. Seriously, Good Host ice tea crystals? It was bad.
 

I think the only thing that changes from when you are a kid to an adult, is that you know now that there are consequences for your actions, both positive and negative, and YOU are the one who is going to have to deal with them, whether that be eating only apple sauce because you wouldn't go to the dentist and all your teeth fell out, or you quit your job and can't find a better one and end up homeless, or that you start your own business and become wildly successful, there isn't anyone there to tell you what you are supposed to be doing, you have to decide, and then decide whether or not to do it, on your own.
 

Just something I've been thinking about lately, it's kind of daunting trying to decide what I want to do next, because every decision, especially the big ones are really going to affect how your life turns out, probably more than you realize. But when I start to worry about that, I just try to remember that I've pretty much been completely making it up as I go thus far, and I'd say things have worked out pretty great.

I saw this the other day, and it kind of stuck with me:

food porn

This might be a really weird thing to share, but I saw these videos the other day and they are gorgeous. I basically quit my job and signed up for culinary school immediately, and who would want to eat potato chips and canned slop when there is food out there that is this beautiful?

It's food art, and even though it's advertising, I could watch these all day.


minimOilism No. 9 from agency twofifteen on Vimeo.



 minimOilism No. 17 from agency twofifteen on Vimeo.



minimOilism No. 6 from agency twofifteen on Vimeo.


 minimOilism No. 4 from agency twofifteen on Vimeo.

montana memories

I'm back in California after 5 days of luscious relaxation. If there is anything better than being surrounded by your favourite people out on the water with good music and tasty drinks, I haven't found it yet.

They say you can't buy happiness, but you can buy tickets to Montana in the summer, and that's pretty much the same thing.

Hail storm

hydrate or die

sister sister

please sir, i'd like s'more

The mother's prayer for its daughter

In case any further proof was need that Tina Fey is the most amazing person ever, here is a poem she wrote for her daughter, from her book Bossypants.


First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches. 

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it's the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach's eye, not the the Beauty. 

When the Crystal Meth is offered,
 

May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half 

And stick with Beer. 

Guide her, protect her
 

When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the nearby subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called "Hell Drop," "Tower of Torture," or "The Death Spiral Rock N' Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith," and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
 

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance.
 

Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes
 

And not have to wear high heels.
 

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I'm asking You because if I knew, I'd be doing it, Youdammit.
 

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.
 

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.
 

Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long,
 

For Childhood is short -- a Tiger Flower blooming
 

Magenta for one day --
 

And Adulthood is long and Dry-Humping in Cars will wait.
 

O Lord, break the Internet forever,
 

That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers
 

And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
 

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister,
 

Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends,
 

For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.
 

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord,
 

That I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 a.m., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.
 

"My mother did this for me once," she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby's neck.
 

"My mother did this for me." And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each 
generation and she will make a Mental note to call me. And she will forget.
 

But I'll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.

Original link here.