Wednesday, November 11, 2009

ATTN: Lost Puppy Found

Apparently Fall brings inspiration-because I have yet to blog since the first of September. Well...I suppose a quickie of these past two months in a nutshell is suitable: things have been mediocre, and I have been on cruise control for a solid sixty days. BUT...with the help of a Barnes&Noble trip and a new journal last night, I have turned that cruise control baby off, and I feel like I'm not just coasting anymore. And I must admit...a little book guided me to the light.
Lo and behold, the reason for my epiphany:
It's Not Easy Being Green
But first.
6:30 P.M.---I'm antsy, smelly, sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a stuffy classroom, and discussing mediated memories in the digital age. Over it. I put my knee up against the rim of the table, place my notepad on it, and I pretend I'm taking notes on van Dijck and her brilliant account of bullshit...I continuously nod my head, and voice a little "Yes, absolutely," every blue moon. Now, the art of pretending you're paying attention in a 12 person, 4 hour long Religion 405 seminar is to make sure that none of your other bored fellow classmates see you are actually not paying attention. Religious Studies students are amazing, but they are nosy as shit. And they will call you out for it. So, the knee on the table trick is the perfect way to keep their pestering eyes off my dazzling list of career possibilities. It is already a page long, and starts with a librarian & ends with a leprechaun. Whelp. I'm screwed. No, just kidding, there are some normal ones in there--but either way, each one of my dream careers entail an underlying notion of something that has been pestering my brain for these two months now. Something that I always lead back to when trying to be practical about my life after constant desire to simply give love in this lifetime and be in love with loving. To fulfill a life of simply giving and putting a smile on someone's face-whether a child, the neighborhood slut, or even Kermit the frog puppet himself (that's an easy one). Just to make a career out of's what I'm good at, and when you read my thoughts later, you will understand more of the details of such a luxurious career.

IMPORTANT: Keep in mind that every single stinking time careers come up at bars, dinners, on the toilet, I sound nuts.

But the question is: Am I really nuts? That is where my new favorite book & epiphany chime in.
8:30 P.M.----I'm sitting in the library video chatting with Jessie, volume on mute, and watching her shed enough tears for a leprechaun to water his plants for a year. Consoling my best friend, I had this sudden urge to make a trip to Barnes&Noble (Not Borders, I'm a loyal B&N member). And when I normally feel these urges, I go with it. Nine out of ten times something lands in my lap and makes me feel like I can put the pedal to the metal and get the fuck off cruise control. And well, sometimes what falls into my lap is also my double shot Venti Cafe Americano that burns my vagina, but a book often follows. Anyway, I could not get this whole "love" thing out of my mind. I wasn't searching for any answers either-I have literally had this notion teetering in my brain for months now, and I was just about to throw it on the back-burner----do away with its constant nagging and how pitiful it made me feel--until Kermit. I was having dreams, INTENSE dreams, screaming at me to write things down, and I just couldn't.
Quick note: Not too long ago I was obsessed with the Twilight saga and I spent too much time thinking of vampires. Good example-Joey was sick once, and apparently in the middle of the night, I turned to him and said, "You can bite me if you want". Why? Well, because I thought if he drank my fucking vampire blood he would heal faster. NUTS. Anyway, with this Twilight craze came constant refreshing on the website, etc...and once I stumbled upon a letter she had written that said:

I woke up (on that June 2nd) from a very vivid dream. In my dream, two people were having an intense conversation in a meadow in the woods. One of these people was just your average girl. The other person was fantastically beautiful, sparkly, and a vampire. They were discussing the difficulties inherent in the facts that A) they were falling in love with each other while B) the vampire was particularly attracted to the scent of her blood, and was having a difficult time restraining himself from killing her immediately.

Though I had a million things to do (i.e. making breakfast for hungry children, dressing and changing the diapers of said children, finding the swimsuits that no one ever puts away in the right place, etc.), I stayed in bed, thinking about the dream. I was so intrigued by the nameless couple's story that I hated the idea of forgetting it; it was the kind of dream that makes you want to call your friend and bore her with a detailed description. (Also, the vampire was just so darned good-looking, that I didn't want to lose the mental image.) Unwillingly, I eventually got up and did the immediate necessities, and then put everything that I possibly could on the back burner and sat down at the computer to write—something I hadn't done in so long that I wondered why I was bothering. But I didn't want to lose the dream, so I typed out as much as I could remember, calling the characters "he" and "she."

From that point on, not one day passed that I did not write something. On bad days, I would only type out a page or two; on good days, I would finish a chapter and then some. I started from the scene in the meadow and wrote through to the end. Then I went back to the beginning and wrote until the pieces matched up. I drove the "golden spike" that connected them in late August, three months later.

Point of this? First, anyone who knows me, knows I love fiction & I love writing. My dream has always been to be a writer, but I think that the world & NY Times Bestseller list doesn't deserve my shit. Second, I have seriously intense dreams, and have been starting to abide by what these dreams are telling me, because according to and Stephenie Meyer's, they are my pot of gold.

Okay, so back to Barnes&Noble. Probably around 10:00 now. I begin browsing for the perfect journal-I knew that needed to be my first goal-find a journal TONIGHT. I had been too cheap and putting it off for too long, and tonight I was feeling fierce and lustful, ready to buy myself a twenty dollar leather bound journal! Ha, just kidding, I'm not really that cheap, but I did go for the $12.95 one. I have been keeping my dreams and money making thoughts inside my head because I have been afraid I would fail at being great. But tonight, I was feeling lucky. And lucky I was.

As I was about to purchase my new snazzy journal, I saw that tiny green book glistening on the bottom shelf of the Bargain Priced books. I did a double-take...picked it up, saw Kermit on the front cover, and thought to myself, shit...I really used to love that frog. I opened it to a random page and it read-
"I believe that we form our own lives, that we create our own reality, and that everything works out for the best. I know I drive some people crazy with what seems to be ridiculous optimism, but it has always worked out for me".

Okay, thank you so fucking much Kermit.

That was it. I was planted on that floor for the next hour and I was marking pages, engulfed in the words of an optimist, someone who came down from heaven to show me that my dreams weren't as outlandish as they seemed.

Jim Hansen, my hero: Writer, father, lover, enthusiast, dreamer, child at heart, creator of the flipping Muppets!---Are those not all of the qualities I possess? Well, I'd rather be a mother instead, and it would feel majestic to be considered a writer and creator of the Muppets, but the point is, he renewed me. My new mentor from heaven. And after reading this storybook of his life and mind, I know he is the type of person who would be rolling around in his grave right now smiling ear to ear for helping a lost puppy follow the yellow brick road back to Emerald City. So, for my first blog in two months, I decided to share something with my beloved readers. Not only am I going to share my newly christened journal (with MANY things left out--especially the money making ideas) to vent and re-instill my inspirations--to kick me in the behind & tell me to get going with following my dreams--but also so my lovely friends, family, stalkers, and other lost puppies, see that...well, folks, making a career out of love really isn't that crazy.

I hope after the rest of my ranting, you will see what Jim Hansen showed me: it is not just a "love career," but a conglomeration of finding your inner child, using your imagination, and creating something that can give you joy because of the joy it brings others.

(italicized is my writing)

My life is basically a very fortunate one and I first of all have no big complaints.

Things that inspire me and I would like to be reminded of everyday. Jim Hansen and I seem to be a similar seed of a zany flower--with a heart encompassed of a vibrant imagination. Through all of this uncertainty of the future and my feelings of just living, breathing, and giving love in this lifetime seem not as crazy because of him.

Why are there so many songs about rainbows,
And what's on the other side?
Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,
And rainbows have nothing to hide.
So we've been told
And some choose to believe it.
I know they're wrong, wait and see.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers, and me.

Who said that every wish would be heard and answered,
When wished on the morning star.
Somebody thought of that and someone believed it.
Look what it's done so far.
What's so amazing that keeps us stargazing,
And what do we think we might see?
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers, and me.

Jim inspired people to be better than they thought they could be. To be more creative, more daring, more outrageous, and ultimately more successful. And he did it all without raising his voice. -Bernie Brillstein

This is what I want to instill on people in my life & to leave the world with loved ones feeling this about me. We SEE with our eyes and we KNOW with our hearts. Outside...inside. Follow your heart. I think he lived by example. To show other people how to be by who you are. I believe I can be better.

Whenever there's a dream worth a-dreamin'
And you want to see that dream come true
There'll be plenty people talkin',
Say forget all about it
Say it isn't worth all the trouble,
All the trouble that you're goin' through
Well, what can you do?

You can't take no for an answer
You can't take no for an answer
You can't take no for an answer.
No, no, no!

Whatcha gonna do when times get tough,
And the world's treatin' you unkind?
You've got to hang on to your optimistic outlook,
And keep possession of your positive state of mind.
-Dr. Teeth

Well, when the path is steep and stony and the night is all around
And the way that you must take is far away
When your heart is lost and lonely and the map cannot be found
Here's a simple little spell that you can say:
You've got to face facts, act fast on your own
Preparation, perspiration, DYNAMITE DETERMINATION.
Pack snacks, make tracks all alone
Don't be cute. Time to scoot. Head out to your destination.
Chase the future, face the great unknown.

My dream is making other people happy, and it's the kind of dream that gets better the more people I share it with. Together we'll nab it. US-OURS-WE-NOT ME.

"Jim was the fellow who uncorked the bottle. He not only uncorked the bottle, he also shook it up". Frank OZ

I love wine. I think that quote should refer to me please.

"As children we all live in a world of imagination, of fantasy, and for some of us that world of make-believe continues into adulthood. Certainly I've lived my whole life through my imagination. But the world of imagination is there for all of us-a sense of play, of pretending, of wonder. It's there with us as we live". Jim

Life's like a movie. I sometimes live too much through movies-thinking I can re-create reality to fit my own utopia. Fiction. Ugh, fiction. It's my best friend and my worst enemy. I have to write my own ending, a real one. Just Keep believing, just keep pretending. It will come to me. I'm a smart gal, I just need to re-create something majestic.

Be lovely in your ways
People are generally good.
Love expecting nothing in return
The heart is generally good.
Make your own map and follow it true
Everywhere you end up will be generally good.

At this point, I was a 1/2 a bottle of wine deep and getting wildly deep into my thoughts, so prepare yourself--Maybe a weird side of Liz you've never seen & maybe never wanted to.

Too much wine
And too much time
Why can't I put into words
Which my mind always seems to find?
I have the spins
With thoughts overflowing
Yet when the pen touches the paper
My mind stops glowing.
Dear old imagination
Running wild
Trying to bring me back thoughts of being a child.

Kindergarten Teacher
Children's bookstore owner
Children's bookstore employee (no salary??)
Children's bookstore owner with photog extravaganzas & storytelling
Wedding Planner
Assistant to Wedding Planner
Personal Assistant
Publishing Company
Assistant/Secretary at a Publishing Company?
Public Relations (would be great at, but fuck that)
Event Planning Company
Real Estate Agent??? Fulfills both my creative side & people skills with a small hunger for the business world. I would make a lot of people happy and think I'm moving in the "right" direction, but would I really love it?? Look at how engulfed my mother is in her business--change, change, change. Everything inevitably changes and naturally desire and greed take over things. I believe its about the decisions you make that ultimately bring out that natural desire and greed. If you choose the situation which you believe fits your personality the best, the only thing which will change is your success.
Secretary-I would be great at, but its sad to say-I'd feel less of myself
Radio Station?? Horrible voice, too much imagination going on in the head and less through technology. --Well, except now. Oxymoron?
Dog walker-Side job for sure
Leprechaun?? I fucking want that pot of gold

Qualities I believe I possess and wish to Google with the result of a career:
Great people person
Good writer (no, great least I think so?)
Background knowledge of Religion, Culture, and critically thinking (so contradictory but nonetheless amazing). I honestly would never take back majoring in Religious Studies. I know I chose it as my major solely to graduate in 4 years, which is now 4 1/2 years, but it has sincerely changed me in the most gratifying ways possible. My studies have helped me feel comfortable in my own skin and truly know that not conforming and following the ways people intend you to go bring much better joy and satisfaction than following someone's dreams. I went from a Business major following the norms of my small hometown and compromising for going to ASU. I cared too much about what I was going to tell people over Christmas Break rather than achieving it myself. Then, Communications. Oh, dear old Communications Department. I hated you. I thought I could discover a new passion with you because everyone else said I would be great at it. And finally, I chose the shorter road to graduation. But it stuck. Big time. It awakened my mind and I began THINKING like I used to. I started appreciating the things in life again that I had lost and stowed away for so long. Ahhh, the joy of re-discovering who you are and the little things in life that used to make you glee. Books, Music, Alcohol-(excessive=not good)-Love, REALITY. It all came to light. I am very thankful for my adviser that day. I wish I remember her name, because she really did more to one student out of 60,000 + than I think she knows.
Great with children
Great with animals (especially dogs) except I can't handle anything morbid involved. Too heartbreaking.
Artistic (not so much drawing)
Friendly (Jim Hansen comes in here)
Dislikes confrontation
Loves helping
Loves books
Loves cooking
Loves reading
Loves photography
LOVE (I keep using that word-FUCK. Joey would already be shaking his head right now because of it)
Great manners (thank you Lily-Pulitzer cloned mother)
Descent style (not shoes)
Family oriented
Genuine (I like to think)
Generally have GENUINE intentions
Traditional/Old school
Organized? I don't know-not so much with my things but more with others.
I seem to enjoy doing more for others than myself. Do I try to live through other people's lives? Would I be a great assistant for this reason? Haha, oh dear, THAT's what I take from asking myself if I try to live through other people's lives.
My love for fiction-do I underestimate myself?
What gives my life meaning?
People say I need to live for ME, discover ME, succeed for ME, and find my OWN ambitions. WELL, DUH! I agree!!!!! But why can't I have both-why does there have to be a compromise? What if I am just inevitably in love with loving? Can't a person be selfless, while still wanting some materialistic things that make them feel lovely, primped, and a true lady? Not talking the best shit here, just a current trip to the thrift shop and hair lady to feel special. When I think of living a life solely for ME, it does not sound satisfactory, but that in fact something will always be missing. NOT SHARING IT WITH SOMEBODY! What does this immense satisfaction I thrive for in making other people happy mean? Am I insecure at heart? Do I have past issues that subconsciously makes me feel I need to BE loved? Is that my persistent reasoning of wanting to give love? To receive love BACK? Fuck. Now it's pouring out. At four in the stinking morning.
Are these emotions I am not recognizing because I suppress them??? Do I have unresolved issues from the past I just force myself to forget and its now inadvertently showing/telling me? What is with all of this love?
I know I am a good person.
I know who I love and want to devote my life to.
I know who my true friends are.
I have a wonderful support system.
I have an exceptional mind-
Why all of this love???
It has always been tattooed in me, but lately it has been bleeding out. Dreams, books, small signs-they are all latching to me and teetering in my brain to be leaked out. I don't know if it is just another sign, but I can't seem to put the meanings, actions, and emotions of love down.

That's all folks.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Hunter S. Thompson

It's a strange world. Some people get rich and others eat shit and die. Who knows? If there is in fact, a heaven and a hell, all we know for sure is that hell will be a viciously overcrowded version of Phoenix — a clean well lighted place full of sunshine and bromides and fast cars where almost everybody seems vaguely happy, except those who know in their hearts what is missing... And being driven slowly and quietly into the kind of terminal craziness that comes with finally understanding that the one thing you want is not there. Missing. Back-ordered. No tengo. Vaya con dios. Grow up! Small is better. Take what you can get...

Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish — a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out where the real winds blow — to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whiskey, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested...
Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll.

Fiction is based on reality unless you're a fairy-tale artist, you have to get your knowledge of life from somewhere. You have to know the material you're writing about before you alter it.

Music has always been a matter of energy to me, a question of fuel. Sentimental people call it inspiration, but what they really mean is fuel. I have always needed fuel. I am a serious consumer. On some nights I still believe that a car with the gas needle on empty can run about fifty more miles if you have the right music very loud on the radio.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

An overweening interest in humanity

Expressing some basic human emotions--tragedy, ecstasy, doom, and so on...
The song Big White Gate by Grace Potter & the Nocturnals inspired this one--Please listen to it while you look at this photo. Not only will you understand its meaning more, but you may even shed a tear.

This one will pick you right back up, but only if you listen to Stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again by Cat Power. To be honest, any time I need a little lift me up, I blast this song on our speakers. Plus, who doesn't love Cat Power, and of course, my sexy red-haired lady...her name is Ginger.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Sitting Duck

First of all, I think everyone should know that Henry was a huge success last night. In fact, and I quote, Joey said, "Henry did not die in vain babe." Oh, how that man knows the way to make me feel less like a bird killer...

Anywhoo, today I received an interesting email from my Lily Pulitzer clone of a mother--and it looked something like this:
Subject: From Mom (uh-oh)
That's it. Just and some hugs and kisses. Well, yes Mom, I have been desperately trying to find a job for, oh, two weeks, but don't nonchalantly send me silly emails like that--because let me tell you a little something about Unless you enjoy wearing hair nets-hanging with toothless co-workers-eating unhealthy foods, then well, I'm sorry-the website is hopeless. And believe me, I don't want to belittle anyone who is in that sort of industry, but hey, I still have some city gal in me. That website is belittling ME by even opening in my browser. To be honest, I have never seen more Pizza Hut and Boston Market job openings in a single sitting. Do I love Boston Market mac-n-cheese every blue moon? Yes. Do I want to serve it curbside with a side of cornbread? No, thank you. Also, Mom-for someone as proper and conservative as yourself, would you really want your daughter delivering pizzas or roasting hundreds of Henry's a day? Oh, and I definitely can't forget to mention the numerous U.S. Army opportunities I saw on that website. ARE YOU ARMY STRONG? Nope. And if I joined the army, my mom would shit herself.

But on a serious note-I sincerely do want a job. While I know I am lucky to have an abundant amount of work during the final semester of my senior year of college, for some reason I just want something more (insert sarcasm). My schedule is in fact...well, basically non-existent...and I am actually starting to see myself getting wildly weirder as the days progress in this Arizona heat. I currently have three online classes, all of which are related to parenting-(embarrassing)-and two classes that I truly love on campus-a Religion seminar and Black & White photography class.

So, I decided to take the liberty to do the math of my wasted time for you, and well, for myself.

1 day=24 hours
Monday-Friday=120 hours
A full week=168 hours
Hours on campus per week=7 hours
Hours of sleep per week=30 hours (stupid insomnia)

And finally, wasted hours during the week-(weekends can obviously be wasted so we won't count those days)-A grand total of...83 stinking hours. Shoot. I guess to make myself feel a tad bit better, we will just say that about 40 of those hours are spent taking photos-reading-saving the world-painting-drinking the vino-being an unmarried housewife-day dreaming-and last but not least, attempting to cook from Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking (you have NO idea how long any recipe takes). So, ultimately, we are still looking at a large/bewildering sum of 43 hours wasted during the week...I need a job ASAP--At least for the sake of my sanity. Oh, and to keep up with Joey. His work ethic is sickening. Not sickening in the way that I was going to vomit when I discovered my wasted hours, but in the sense that if he is idle, not working, for merely two days, he's "work frustrated". Slightly different from sexually frustrated for two reasons--one, I am the best girlfriend in the world and I never allow that to happen--and two, well, I am the best girlfriend in the world. Either way, he makes me look like a sitting duck. And when I say sitting duck, I want you to picture me with an orange flat bill, webbed feet, and a body of white feathers, relaxing in the sun poolside-probably drinking some wine-well, definitely drinking some wine-portraying Michael Bedard's famous lithograph. Look it up, smile, and then understand that his artwork is what my lovely man has to come home to. However, I would not be myself if I did not look at the bright side of this unemployment situation. So, in the mean time, as I not-so-patiently await replies from employers, I am not going to open any emails from my mother with the subject 'From Mom', and I am going to continue saving the world...preferably by the pool.

But first! A short little story...

My dearest friend Jessie is enough inspiration for a book alone (another time, another story) and as one of my biggest supporters in pursuing my dreams, she said something extremely captivating to me yesterday--BUT, before I quote her, I have to set the record straight even before it is crooked. Jessie is not even remotely as gracious or poetic-(that is, except in school and with me)-as this comment will make her seem. But don't worry, you will learn this rather bluntly in the near future.

"A reader will only continue to read something if you are able to surprise them and evoke feelings/emotions they can't get from anywhere else." J.K.R.

First and foremost, a big thank you to my other half...the one person who I believe knows me better than I know myself. Why? Well, simply because I know the hidden notion behind her too affable of a remark is in fact, "Liz, let your guard down, write exactly what you feel, and make it fucking outrageous."

So, thank you Jessie. And to any readers--if you are, in fact, out there--I want you to know that as I continue to discover myself as a writer/photographer, I truly hope you will follow me along the yellow brick road to reach the Emerald City, because...
"In the land of Oz, we are all small children walking down a road of yellow brick in a crazy, outlandish, ozzy sort of world."
L. Frank Baum


Thursday, August 27, 2009


First off, I believe it is necessary to begin this blog by expressing that it is only 11:00 A.M. in Arizona right now, and I feel like I have successfully completed an entire day. Secondly, anyone reading this who knows me--that is, if anyone is even reading this at all--knows that I name every single pet-animal-creature-alien-anything really...Henry. So, naturally, I had to name the whole chicken stewing in my crock pot Henry. As a former vegetarian, now turned carnivore again, I feel as though poor Henry is screaming at me trying to escape his inevitable third death/slaughter. Either way, let's just put it this way--after having to move the "young chicken" from it's packaging, clean the bird, and throw it in its dungeon, I washed my hands clean of the job. Actually, I scrubbed them clean with lots of antibacterial products. Anyway, enough of my ranting, let's get to the yummy part--the end result!

But first-Just in case anyone who is reading this and does not know me--once again, if anyone is even reading this at all--I feel compelled to give a brief biography.
Full Name: Elizabeth Stowe (last name revoked for stalking purposes)
Interesting Fact: I was named after Harriet Beecher Stowe, who wrote Uncle Tom's Cabin--which everyone should have learned about in 7th grade History class--and as an avid reader, I'm ashamed to say I have not read it, but have a copy on my ghetto bookcase (another story, another time)
Hometown: Dear old Rumson, New Jersey. Born a city gal in Manhattan, but always a Jersey girl. You should definitely listen to the song Jersey Girl by Bruce Springsteen (the Boss)--it is the song I have tortured men with in the past. Also, to toot my own horn right now, I was lucky enough to live a few doors down from the Boss himself. Yes, be jealous.
Age: I was born just short of being a Valentine's Day baby--February 15th. I am twenty two, and yes, very confused.
Currently: Well, in a nutshell, I am currently living with two fools in Arizona, and finishing up my last semester of undergrad at ASU for Religious Studies. I am avoiding the real world at all costs--Grad school it is! I live in a very whimsical fantasy world where Joey, my baby girl Roxie-not a baby, a cockapoo-my family, and my savvy girlfriends, could all peacefully live and drink vino all day and eat lots of cheese and crackers. Yum. Oh, and have all of the money in the world...preferably so I can buy myself a ring and slip it to Joey to give it to me.

...However, I can't give everything away quite yet, I mean, if I DO have readers, I want you all to come back!

So, back to Henry it is!

What's in store for din din--Chicken Enchiladas with "Usable Chicken" a la Regina Murphy and a fabulous bottle of Pinot Grigio--but, probably beer for my man, because I don't share the goods...



Usable Chicken a la Slow Cooker

1 Whole Chicken or Package of your favorite parts (gross)
4 cups of water
2 tbsp parsley
2 tsp garlic salt
1-2 bay leaves
1 tbsp minced onion
1 tsp Lawry's seasoning salt

Place all the ingredients in crockery to create a magical/scrumptious Henry

Cook on low for 6-8 hours
Cook on high for 3-4 hours

**Gina, my second mother/idol says that this recipe is a great one to do the night before & that you can use the chicken in any sort of casseroles-soups-etc. And believe me, take her advice, because she raised five Irish screaming boys. Meggy, the youngest and only daughter, was the last of the litter, and a saint. I honestly could boast about Meggy and Gina forever so I'll stop there--but hmm, there's an idea for another post**

Chicken Enchiladas a la Henry

One crockery of Usable Chicken (the name makes me laugh)
1 can (4 oz) chopped green chiles
1 onion-diced
1 batch Mexican gravy, AKA Enchilada sauce--Gina says store bought is perfect
4 oz of each: Monterey Jack and Cheddar Cheese-grated
1 can chopped olives
1 dozen corn tortillas

Filling: Skin, debone, and cut-up Henry (see, now it's his fourth slaughter) Stir in chiles, onion, and one cup of gravy

Assembly: Dip tortilla in gravy and lie flat. Fill the center with 3 tbsp. of filling and roll tightly. Place seam side down in a 9X13 pan. Pour any extra sauce of the top. Cover with cheese & top with olives.

Bake 350 degrees for 30 minutes. Serve with sour cream and erase all notions of Henry said here from your mind!

Thank you Gina and Henry.

Well ladies and gents, back to my semi-real world, I have tons of photos that need editing.

Bon Appetit!

Wednesday, August 26, 2009


Whitney, my ballerina extraordinaire girlfriend, decided to audition for So You Think You Can Dance--And guess who was lucky enough to be asked to take her head shots? As you are about to see, capturing the perfect photo with someone as beautiful and fabulous as Whit is quite simple.
P.S. Amiee Joy Krasner needs
to be given credit here as well for being my muse
& therapist.