More lists

Time for another list. I've stopped carrying a notepad in my back pocket, so I'm assaulting you guys with lists. I apologize.

1. The estranged(only slightly) love of my life is coming to visit. For a whole week. Love bubbles and rainbows all around for me and her.
2. A visit to the highly esteemed Green Apple book store was made, and homage was paid to the second hand books.
3. Euro is almost over, with all the teams I backed losing, so I'm switching to la Italia with the famously bonkers Balotelli for the finals.
4. I am giving Harry Potter books 5,6,7 another chance.
5. Pizza Chicago for dinner tonight.(Be still, my beating heart)
6. A highly biased, thouroughly amatuer review of the American Idiot will be forthcoming from me next weekend.
7. Uzair Jaswal
And since we are on the topic of lists, check out the terms and conditions Einstein laid out for his wife and other such gems at this (sometimes hilarious) website.

Kitchen escapades

I spent the last week cooking something new everyday. Well, almost. Fruits of my labor were enjoyed mostly by me, partly by my i-have-a-golfball-for-a-stomach roommate. The black bean soup was a hit and the potato wedges came out better than expected, though I suspect that ketchup had a lot more to do with that than I care to admit. The oven is a finicky beast, burning my pita chips on one day, and making them crunchy perfect the other. I will conquer you one day, Oven, you just wait!

I made a lemon brioche french toast thingamajigy yesterday, full of summery lemony goodness. My quest for brioche/challah was thwarted, so I subbed it with French bread in the recipe. Take that, universe! Though once I zested and juiced my first lemon, I knew that I had become a kitchen slave.

More baking will surely come and so will more fat. As a preventive measure, I bought a pair of cute red 3 lb weights and a yoga mat. Further plans for this week involve fixing my car, being social and not giving up on Game-Of-Thrones.

EDIT: Just had to add this. Mystery solved.

                                                   

Hunger and other pangs

Most coffee smells better than it tastes. Expectations seem to ruin everything, from movies to people.

I am pleasantly surprised at my increased frequency of blogging. And of day dreaming, but that is a whole different can of worms. I sometimes think about whether I should start a new blog, one that will be more successful, because this one is too personal to become one. But the prospect is about as inviting as slowly peeling off my own skin.

Vigorous jazz handsssss are going to happen soon to me and my roommate, and I’m looking forward to it. Being more fit will also happen as a result, I dare to assume.

My parents are leaving Thursday. Their trip here resulted in an increase in my fridge magnet collection and my appetite. I stuffed all the places they could possibly see in 3 weeks into this vacation. Got to hear stories about my dad, like the fact that Shiv Sena guys once threatened to stick a knife in his back. Can’t make up my mind about whether this is cool or not. Judgement call, I suppose. Parents are a weird species.

They say that the way to a man’s heart is though food. Screw men, I’m perpetually hungry. Feed me (the person who this is directed at knows who they are). I want 408-CHICAGO now.