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Our beautiful Colorado is on fire. The forests we rambled through as children are gone now. Hundreds of homes have been consumed, and the blaze continues to inch towards larger cities.

There are times in life when it finally dawns on you how a turn of phrase arose. "Heart-wrenching." It's a funny set of words. But with my leaky-faucet eyes and the deep pain in my chest, nothing seems more apt.

Please pray for our home state.



The Flying W Ranch is a place where some of my favorite memories took place, and yesterday it burned. On our cross-country road trips this cassette played on repeat, and I'm still not tired of it. Pretty good stuff if you ask me. You can hear a few more of their songs here. 

Floats!



Mr. Two and I are on a little road trip right now. The other day we stopped for root beer floats at a cute place called The Gathering Grounds. The only problem was they were out of vanilla ice cream. So we improvised--and quite successfully!

Here are some ideas:

A mint cream float for me with mint chip ice cream and cream soda

And a peanut butter cream float for him with peanut butter cup ice cream and cream soda.



Networking Inamorato? Ask 5.


Q: I have an awkward, but hopefully relateable predicament. I know this boy. . . . well, I *knew* this boy. We were buddies in middle school, then he moved out of my district and I haven't seen him since. My issue is this: now, nearly 10 years later, I find myself totally crushing on him. Or at least the Facebook version of him. And I don't think it's because of his exceptional picture pruning skills, either. To me, he just seems like a genuinely cool, witty, nice guy. Is there something terribly wrong/weird/strange about this? And if there isn't, should I do anything about it?


A + A + A + A + A:

One (Intermittent BFF): When we were little, Two and I were best friends with a pair of sisters. And when I say "best friends," I mean we memorialized our relationship with broken heart necklaces from Claire's that labled us thusly. If that isn't serious, I don't know what is. But then we moved and life happened and the next thing I knew I hadn't seen my "best friends" in ages. Call it destiny, (I prefer Divine Intervention), but our paths crossed again when one of those sisters ended up doing missionary work in Hungary at the same time I did. And when I look back at my childhood in the 80's, and my epically bad taste during that time, I am impressed, nay, amazed at how I developed such incredibly awesome taste in friends. Because these ladies are truly spectacular -- smart, witty, gorgeous, accomplished, thoughtful, fun, honest, real. We don't get to see enough of each other, but when it works out, I love every minute.

I'm a bit of a luddite, and didn't spend the decade during which we were out of touch stalking these girls, (on Facebook or otherwise). But the last decade of my life has been richer and more beautiful because they're back in the picture. So start a casual dialogue -- maybe send an article you think might interest him, and ask for his thoughts. Your timewarp crush may or may not be destined to be the love of your life, but you owe it to yourself to see whether this seemingly cool person from your past is meant to be part of your future. 


Two (Cautious): Hmmm...  So truth be told, my husband and I reconnected over Facebook but PLEASE use tremendous caution when using this method.  Do not send him gushy messages about how you were meant for each other. Do not tell him how cool you think he is. Do not write on his wall all of the time. But you can casually invite him to a party you throw or send him a note saying something like, "Hey _________, you and I should catch up. Wanna grab juice/coffee/lunch sometime next week?"

A note about me and the Mister, he reconnected with me ONLY as a friend. I would probably never have dated him if he would have come on to strong. As it was, after he found me, it was almost a year before he tried ANYTHING and then he waited til he knew I was interested. He just facilitated opportunities for me to see whether I liked him and whether he liked me but in a totally non creeper way. So yeah. In the end, don't be creepy. Don't be needy. Don't seem desperate and look to make a new friend. Not boyfriend.

Three (Proud Voyeur): Okay, first off, you're not sketchy. At least not in this day and age. I don't know a single person with a Facebook account who's not guilty of a bit of friendly voyeurism every now and then. Really "social network" is a bit of a misnomer in my opinion, and "solitary gawk-site" might be a more apt tagline for the web's favorite roost.

Now, for what to do about it. Say "hi." Don't build it up, and don't force it, but when he posts something clever go right on ahead and "like" it. Who knows, he might "like" you too. And then "likes" might turn to like, which could turn to luuurrrrrv and then it could all settle down into love.

My *cough* husband *cough* invited me to a football watching party via Facebook once upon a time ago, and just look how that turned out! I'm not promising you'll end up like us--it would be rather intimidating if every fb invite ended in marriage--but it's a perfect way to say hello with no stress.

Besides, if things go poorly you can block him and pretend nothing ever happened.

Four (Diplomat): Tooootally relatable. In fact, I’ve had similar predicaments (mostly with an exchange student who used to live with us. He’s an insanely dreamy, crazy smart, Iraqi laser scientist. What more could a girl ask for?! An astronaut, I suppose....). Aaaaanyway, nothing wrong with crushing. The question is: what to do? If I were you, I'd send him a quick, pithy message about something clever you saw him post or something funny you have in common. It doesn't have to be formal, but it could potentially initiate a dialogue. Who knows?!  :) Good luck!!!

Five (Chatty and Unhelpful): Mmmmm girl, you have no idea how much I relate. There's this kid who I sat next to in children's choir whose transitions lenses were always darker than they should've been. We were friends, but I was 11 and distracted by the über handsome blonde in the fourth row named Jack. Well, now Mr. Transitions looks like Colin Firth.

With glasses.

Swoon.

If it's sketchy dear writer, we can be sketchy together. However -- aside from empathy and potential validation -- I don't have much to offer you. Maybe you could mention your big fat internet crush on him on your blog and hope he reads it and is like "Oh wow! I remember her as a kind, funny, quick-witted eleven-year-old! She's probably even more awesome now! And she doesn't even have Hanson Boy hair anymore! We should totally date in spite of our widely disparate locations!" Or maybe Jack will see this and be like "I have no memory of that chick! Oh wait, didn't she have Hanson Boy hair?! This is weird! I'm going back to being attractive now!" . . .

. . . Just a thought.


Have a question? ASK FIVEYou'll have a 1 in 5 chance that 
someone will see it your way!
Just send your questions to:

Networking Inamorato? Ask 5.

Q: I have an awkward, but hopefully relateable predicament. I know this boy. . . . well, I *knew* this boy. We were buddies in middle school, then he moved out of my district and I haven't seen him since. My issue is this: now, nearly 10 years later, I find myself totally crushing on him. Or at least the Facebook version of him. And I don't think it's because of his exceptional picture pruning skills, either. To me, he just seems like a genuinely cool, witty, nice guy. Is there something terribly wrong/weird/strange about this? And if there isn't, should I do anything about it?


A + A + A + A + A:

One (Intermittent BFF): When we were little, Two and I were best friends with a pair of sisters. And when I say "best friends," I mean we memorialized our relationship with broken heart necklaces from Claire's that labled us thusly. If that isn't serious, I don't know what is. But then we moved and life happened and the next thing I knew I hadn't seen my "best friends" in ages. Call it destiny, (I prefer Divine Intervention), but our paths crossed again when one of those sisters ended up doing missionary work in Hungary at the same time I did. And when I look back at my childhood in the 80's, and my epically bad taste during that time, I am impressed, nay, amazed at how I developed such incredibly awesome taste in friends. Because these ladies are truly spectacular -- smart, witty, gorgeous, accomplished, thoughtful, fun, honest, real. We don't get to see enough of each other, but when it works out, I love every minute.

I'm a bit of a luddite, and didn't spend the decade during which we were out of touch stalking these girls, (on Facebook or otherwise). But the last decade of my life has been richer and more beautiful because they're back in the picture. So start a casual dialogue -- maybe send an article you think might interest him, and ask for his thoughts. Your timewarp crush may or may not be destined to be the love of your life, but you owe it to yourself to see whether this seemingly cool person from your past is meant to be part of your future. 


Two (Cautious): Hmmm...  So truth be told, my husband and I reconnected over Facebook but PLEASE use tremendous caution when using this method.  Do not send him gushy messages about how you were meant for each other. Do not tell him how cool you think he is. Do not write on his wall all of the time. But you can casually invite him to a party you throw or send him a note saying something like, "Hey _________, you and I should catch up. Wanna grab juice/coffee/lunch sometime next week?"

A note about me and the Mister, he reconnected with me ONLY as a friend. I would probably never have dated him if he would have come on to strong. As it was, after he found me, it was almost a year before he tried ANYTHING and then he waited til he knew I was interested. He just facilitated opportunities for me to see whether I liked him and whether he liked me but in a totally non creeper way. So yeah. In the end, don't be creepy. Don't be needy. Don't seem desperate and look to make a new friend. Not boyfriend.

Three (Proud Voyeur): Okay, first off, you're not sketchy. At least not in this day and age. I don't know a single person with a Facebook account who's not guilty of a bit of friendly voyeurism every now and then. Really "social network" is a bit of a misnomer in my opinion, and "solitary gawk-site" might be a more apt tagline for the web's favorite roost.

Now, for what to do about it. Say "hi." Don't build it up, and don't force it, but when he posts something clever go right on ahead and "like" it. Who knows, he might "like" you too. And then "likes" might turn to like, which could turn to luuurrrrrv and then it could all settle down into love.

My *cough* husband *cough* invited me to a football watching party via Facebook once upon a time ago, and just look how that turned out! I'm not promising you'll end up like us--it would be rather intimidating if every fb invite ended in marriage--but it's a perfect way to say hello with no stress.

Besides, if things go poorly you can block him and pretend nothing ever happened.

Four (Diplomat): Tooootally relatable. In fact, I’ve had similar predicaments (mostly with an exchange student who used to live with us. He’s an insanely dreamy, crazy smart, Iraqi laser scientist. What more could a girl ask for?! An astronaut, I suppose....). Aaaaanyway, nothing wrong with crushing. The question is: what to do? If I were you, I'd send him a quick, pithy message about something clever you saw him post or something funny you have in common. It doesn't have to be formal, but it could potentially initiate a dialogue. Who knows?!  :) Good luck!!!

Five (Chatty and Unhelpful): Mmmmm girl, you have no idea how much I relate. There's this kid who I sat next to in children's choir whose transitions lenses were always darker than they should've been. We were friends, but I was 11 and distracted by the über handsome blonde in the fourth row named Jack. Well, now Mr. Transitions looks like Colin Firth.

With glasses.

Swoon.

If it's sketchy dear writer, we can be sketchy together. However -- aside from empathy and potential validation -- I don't have much to offer you. Maybe you could mention your big fat internet crush on him on your blog and hope he reads it and is like "Oh wow! I remember her as a kind, funny, quick-witted eleven-year-old! She's probably even more awesome now! And she doesn't even have Hanson Boy hair anymore! We should totally date in spite of our widely disparate locations!" Or maybe Jack will see this and be like "I have no memory of that chick! Oh wait, didn't she have Hanson Boy hair?! This is weird! I'm going back to being attractive now!" . . .

. . . Just a thought.

Three and Dr P's tiny, crazy, almost-elopement/definitely NOT shotgun, super-auspicious Indian Wedding



If you read this blog you've probably heard by now that Dr. P and I were getting hitched. What you may or may not have heard is that the blessed event took place this past Saturday. The question on everyone's tongues seems to be "why the rush?" The truth is that we just wanted to be married, but like most simple truths, there's a longer version too. 

Two years ago, Dr. P told me that he thought we ought to get married the weekend before he would begin his residency. The conversation took place while I washed dishes and he dried. I laughed and said that would be just fine--before adding that technically there was another important question he should ask me before setting dates. The conversation was left there until about six weeks ago when Dr. P took me to a quiet dinner where he said some of the loveliest things I've ever heard and  finally got around to the technicality of asking me to be his wife (I mostly nodded and cried, which I think he understood to mean "yes"). We finished off with a double dose of dessert, and a long walk where he reminded me of my sink-side promise from two years back. 

We knew that with 6-weeks notice, the whole affaire would need to be simple and intimate--very intimate. In fact, my entire guest list (outside of blood relations) came to a grand total of 2. 

My best friend and my boss. 

There are plans in the mix to have a slightly larger celebration in the next year--and we hope our friends will all indulge us with their company then--but for now I'm focusing on the present. And for me the present is mostly filled with gratitude. For the amazing family I was born with, the new family I have gained, and of course, for my husband.

There are more photos to come, but I thought I'd share a couple from our traditional Hindu ceremony now

Confessions of a Recovering AB

When it came to blogging -- how do I say this nicely? -- I really wasn't a fan.  I felt they were self indulgent platforms for people with too much time on their hands. But after FIVE, I feel it my duty to tell you all of the wonderful things that have happened because of keeping a blog.

So... Here are the Top 5 confessions of a recovering Anti Blogger who now really likes to blog.

1. It's like journaling, but SO much better.  I distinctly remember the day I came into the laundry room and my mother was reading my journal.  And not just any journal, but the journal I wrote "I am in love with a different boy every ten minutes" in.  My stomach sunk.  My heart skipped a few beats.  Embarrassment doesn't approach the shame I felt.  But when I blog, I know I have an audience.  Even if it's just my sisters.  I self edit so when I go back and read my posts, it's less of "oh gosh... did I really think that way?" and more "wasn't that just wonderful?"

2. Because it's nice to spout off... I mean, share. What can I say?  I love having a forum to talk about art projects, wonderful recipes, politics, current events, Mr. Two, etc.  Humans have an innate need to share and I really enjoy sharing with you!

3. Because it gives me an excuse to take pictures.  Or more accurately, to ask others to take them for me.

4. Because it feels less creepy to blog-stalk than facebook stalk my sisters.

5. Because... well, because when we started out this blog, the ostensible reason was that we were drifting apart and that we wanted to be closer.  It was true.  It used to be that once a week or so, the five of us would head downstairs with a movie, treats, nail polish and soft rollers for a "girls party."   Between painted toes, Audrey Hepburn and Dad inevitably coming down to break up the party 10 minutes before the movie ended, we had enough fun that even at our most awkward, we never felt friendless.  But years and tears and miles and trials take their toll on relationships.   Having something to work on together is kind of like reintroducing a grown up version of our original girls parties.  It's an excuse to catch up, to check in and one day a week, to see something from the vantage point of the girls I love most.  So after my fair share of foot dragging, I will give credit where credit is due.  I think my sisters would agree that after a year of doing this blog thing together, we are as close as we have ever been and maybe closer.  I think we compete with each other less and appreciate each other more.  So my top confession is really a confession of gratitude: to you for reading, and to my sisters for doing this with me.  I look forward to doing it for many years to come!

I'm baaaaaaaack!

Hi people!

Sorry I dropped off the face of the earth. I've kind of had my hands full these last two months. 

With this:

I think it's been time well spent.

Keep Em' Coming

Thank you SO much to all of you who have been submitting videos for the I'm An Organ Donor campaign!  They are wonderful!  But we still need more!  So if you haven't done it yet, send us a video telling us why you're an organ donor.  You can also like the campaign on Facebook. We can't wait to hear your story!

Homemade Ricotta

Have you ever had milk or cream in your fridge that is just past the point where you feel comfortable putting it into your cereal?  Don't say "gross" yet because it makes the best ricotta cheese.  Mix a gallon milk with a quart of cream, a cup of yogurt with active cultures and about a fourth cup lemon juice.  Put in a pinch or two of salt and whisk.  Place it into a pot on medium heat, stirring every few minutes.  Once it comes to a boil, reduce to a simmer and leave until curds start to form.  For a finer ricotta, simmer for less time.  For bigger curds, simmer for longer.  Meanwhile, line a colander with ample cheesecloth and place it over a bowl.  Strain the ricotta over the bowl for 5 to 20  minutes, depending on how dry you want it.  Save the whey for soup broths or bread.  Ricotta should keep for a week or so.  It's great for desserts, pizza, pasta sauces or fruit and granola.  For a more exacting recipe, look here.  Melissa Clark knows knows her technique.  The one thing I would recommend is cooking the milk at a slightly higher heat before reducing it to a simmer.





While You Were Out


I've never been a particularly "bad" kid. . . or at least I don't think I have.
I have, however, been known to get into pickles when left unattended.  It doesn't matter that my mother will come home in half an hour to a graffitied living room sofa or that the Brita pitcher really doesn't work the same after having "filtered" 8 ounces of India ink, there's just something about the immediate impossibility of judgement that makes me do weird stuff. I suppose I forget that actions have consequences when no one is there to remind me.

Lately, I've been home alone often. Apparently nothing's changed.

I found this:


and did this:



I found this:


And did this:

and I found these:


and did this:


Today I found this:


. . . I haven't decided what to do with it yet.

Hello, Houston!

Last week I arrived in Houston for my summer internship with the emergency preparedness and epidemiology division of the department of health here. I never, ever thought I would type those words because I *never* thought I'd spend time in Texas.
ESPECIALLY summertime. 
But here I am! 
Fortunately, Astro Boy is also here and he has done a marvelous job convincing me that Texas does in fact have its charms. He even got me to take the picture below (it took some coercing, but there is photographic evidence!). 
After a particularly looong first week of work (just to get an idea, I worked from 8am to 10pm on Friday and went into work at 6:45am on Saturday...), Astro Boy planned a delightful adventure. 
We started at a massive produce village--which was amazing! It went on and on and on and on.
Then we went to a nifty vintage shop, a gourmet grocer, a deliciously hipster vegetarian joint, and--finally--a parking lot filled with giant, 18 foot tall busts of every. single. American. president. ever.
There were 42 of them. 
It was weird. 
But also kind of incredible.
And, all in all, a super smashing success.



Dr. P



The first time I saw Dr. P, I was smitten. He came to my apartment to see J, the boyfriend of my former roommate, and I could. not. get over how good looking J's friend was.

If my memory serves me correctly, J, my roommate A, my ex and I spent over an hour discussing the looks of The Boy who would one day become Dr. P (my Dr. P). I had no dog in the fight, I simply believed The Boy to be a superior human specimen.

Looking back, Dr. P hardly remembers the night and I giggle when I think about the things that initially drew me to the man who will be my husband. Yes, I think he's dreamy, but had I known how kind, and intelligent, and strong, and dedicated. and funny, and honest, and hardworking, and inquisitive, and brilliant, and sexy, and gosh darn wonderful he was back then I would have swiftly bid the (very nice) ex adieu, and gone after The Boy like a she wolf.

Luckily fate (and perhaps roommate A) saw the bigger picture, and brought us together. We both had slight limps I from a car accident late in the spring semester, he from a botched surgery, and we bonded at the back of the pack. But we've regained our (rather fast-paced) strides hand-in-hand, going further together than we ever could have imagined before.

Dr. P has been my refuge for the past four years. He is my shelter, my council, my cheerleader and my protector. And now, I cannot wait to add "my husband" to that list of adjectives.

Dr. P. I love you more than I knew was possible. I cannot wait for the rest of our lives to begin.


The good news and the bad news

The good news is I went to the doctor in Cleveland for a check up and everything is looking grand.

The bad news is the meds they used to knock me out are making me feel rather sick today. But this too shall pass.

Other good news: my grad school pal CM has made a new game called Tapestry. We will try to play it later this week, but she needs all of the kickstart help she can get. So please take a look!

Other bad news: I am writing from my iPhone and feeling rather queasy so I shall say Adiux.

A Delicious Afternoon

Très Wee Bridal Shower:

Mix 1 bouquet with 6 parts good company. Set aside.

Carefully add 1 part pigheaded Bulgarian waiter to 1 part Two; wait for the
tempestuous reaction to settle, and then whisk in 2 parts lemon brioche french toast,
1 malted vanilla waffle, and 2 parts eggs benedict.
Let set for several hours.

Meanwhile, fold together equal parts good advice, sunshine, and thrift store scrummaging.

Stir together all of the above in a giant copper pot, and finish off with
a few bars salted chocolate, a dash of irreverence, and a single vintage bud vase.

Voilà