{ta-da! list} that time we walked the brooklyn bridge;

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that time we walked across the brooklyn bridge was the day we wore our feet down to little feet sausages with poor shoe-choices.{brogues and bright green pointy flats with rainbow sequins can do that to you.}

that time we walked across the brooklyn bridge was also the night we realized cash-only ice cream places are for-real.{and they are heartbreakers.}

that time we walked across the brooklyn bridge was when i realized that homesickness for boston and florida doesn’t have to make me feel sad, but more so lucky to have two homes i miss that much. {and also puppies. oh, and boloco. let’s be honest}

that time we walked across the bridge was the night we realized $1 vanilla cones at mcdonald’s can be bought with dimes, too. as long as you don’t have shame.{and as long as you have your regular mcdonald’s guys being heavy handed with their swirling.}

that time we walked across the brooklyn bridge was when i realized strapless bras aren’t for fancy balls and proms.{that ish is for everyday. no straps= no problems.}

that time we walked across the brooklyn bridge i realized i am blind as a bat. big glasses forever*~ sally jesse rafael-style, ya’ll.

#classicbrooklyn outfit rounded out by a manfriend shirt. where’s my owl-embroidered tote bag? my straight bangs? feather extensions? it’s like i thought it was halloween or something.

seeing things clearly and un-blobby is underrated.
…especially bridges at night like this beaut.

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things you learn at twenty-two {so far};

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1. relationships and friendships should never be kept alive based solely on how  you both really love paul simon’s album graceland. get a grip; everyone dug graceland, everyone will always love graceland, and anyone who doesn’t love graceland is a robot at the core.  this means once they take a big dump on your heart/ question you buying that one denim skirt with patchwork and tassles that you love because it’s so ugly it’s cute, they should not get immunity because “boy in the bubble” is their jam.
 

i know, it’s a great album. and it’s hard. i know. but they refused to step on your back that one time you really needed your back cracked/ they ate a loaf of your bread without replacing it/they told you you smelled like a dog once, and that’s not a true friend.

 

2. most things can be resolved with watermelon.israeli-palestinian conflict? give those dudes some watermelon. people hating on gay marriage? sounds like they need some fresh, juicy watermelon to cool those hot heads down.

 

3. the only way to walk your dogs is by imagining you are in homeward bound. except not the sad parts. you can imagine the cat-running-from-a-mountain-lion parts, but not the injured-golden-retriever-in-a-ditch-in-an-abandoned-railroad parts.

 

4. navy and bright orange totally go together. eff the haters.

 

5. putting every little, tiny milestone in your life on facebook is reeeeeally annoying to most people around you and i’m not sure you want everyone to know for genuine reasons. i’m glad you got an internship/passed a kidney stone/your baby stopped barfing, but i know you’re just hurting for some likes. be silently content with the lack of baby vomit in your life by yourself. it’s a much cuter look, i think.

 

6.  just because you have four “$4 off your next $20 purchase at cvs!!!!!” coupons does not mean you should spend all of them on orange coconut waters and expired 50% off easter candy.and apricot face wipes. and little flossers that you might have bought because they look like violin bows for kittens.

 

7. princess diaries was meant to be watched twice in one day. that’s the serving size.  dont deprive yourself of this pleasure.

 

8.you really only need one to three good friends. these can include your mom, your dog who has a habit of finding old condoms on walks to the sketchy park where high schoolers go after dark, and your cat that likes to hold hands more than most things. it can also include the cvs man who calls you “sweetheart”. whatever.

 

9. science museums are much, much, much more fun than ragers.


 

10. you’re twenty-two and you still don’t know how to make a bread bowl? what a waste. you could be eating your dishes by now. maybe by twenty-three you’ll know.

sunnin’ the limbs, a playlist;

IMG_4728{click image for spotify playlist. click here for youtube playlist}

 

i think summer playlists are a wonderful thing. the most special of all playlists.

as a former theme park employee who worked in a section of the park where it was always july 4th, 1976 year-round {i.e. working the carnival games outside of the “jaws” ride. no lie.} i know what a typical summer playlist looks like. i did over 18 times a day.

after 9 months of working whac-a-mole i lost the ability to stop myself from twitching when “jeremiah was a bullfrog” blasted over the theme park speakers. i danced with too many scooby-doo toys to pass the time to that songs in a crusty old ring toss game.

i have to physically leave trader joe’s if “good vibrations” is playing. that shit starts up my theme-park-induced ptsd.

that was my 9 months of talking to stuffed animal toys, telling grown men that no, they could not have that stuffed animal patrick the starfish toy because it cost more than their tommy bahama shorts, and having brazilian tour groups accidentally hit me with tennis balls, wiffle balls, and guns with yes, more balls attached to them.

 

i got hit with balls a lot, ya’ll.

and yes, i know how to say “balls” in more languages than i really expected to.

now that i am out of the theme park trenches, i know how a playlist of summer jams can either get you pumped up to get rid of your translucent white legs {like mine look when i put sunscreen on in the beginning of may. whoops.}

or how it can make your left eye twitch or cause people to think you just had a stroke.

 

we’re gonna go with the former route. sound good? i thought so.

{feed the mackenzies} doctor who blue velvet tardis cake;

IMG_4526last month was a pretty nutty one in boston. pressure cooker bombs? lockdown? manhunt? city is shut down?
it all sounds straight out of a sci-fi movie. orson scott card called, and he wants his plot back.

in a way, it was terrifying and stressful. in other ways, completely fascinating to reload reddit until 5am watching all of the updates and marveling at all the lovely people across the country who were up for 27 hours, listening to a fuzzy police scanner to give us news.

as we all know now, a lot of that craziness has blown over. but that lockdown day was a day homegirl over here needed to de-stress.

enter….blue velvet tardis cake. a birthday cake for the whovian manfriend.

because….birthdays are cool. 

exits are on the right if this is too much for you. this is almost as bad as the “meiosis + mitosis” cookies i made in high school for my bio teacher, using sprinkles as chromosomes.

once again, you may ‘X’ out of this post now. it doesn’t get any less disgusting from here.

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if you’re not familiar with good ‘ol doctor who, its a british series that has been on for the last fifty years.  it chronicles the doctor traveling through space and time with a companion {rose is my obvious favorite so far}  in a magical space ship called the tardis. simply put, it’s aliens and cheekiness and all kinds of feels.

okay, i just now spent 35 minutes looking through rose tyler .gifs and now i am headed on a one-way train to sob city, so we will continue. just…watch it, guys.

let us proceed.
this is the kind of cake that is excellent if you:
1. have ocd
2. are currently experiencing an all-day lockdown
3. you like making stencils.

blue velvet cake:
i used this recipe. follow it exactly.
don’t use food coloring like i did, unless you want a pond-scum colored cake {seen above}. use the gel. seriously, just do it; you won’t have to go through various stages of grief and sprinkles and instagram filters if you just use the gel.

icing:
manfriend’s favorite icing is this one i used before in a guinness chocolate cake for him.
tears will be shed, it is that absurd.

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once i baked the cake, i made a handy stencil using an x-acto knife.
you can also print one out and cut it out, but it was 8pm and we still hadn’t heard any updates about the manhunt, so the x-acto knife was quite helpful in stress-relief.

9pm? still no updates. so putting individual sprinkles on the cake one-by-one. it happens. i regret nothing.

10 pm? manhunt is over, ya’ll. the result?

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but a certain someone  was not amused by the end of the manhunt/lockdown . can you guess who?

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i want to go to there, a reading list;

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{old orchard beach, maine}

basically, ya’ll, my wanderlust is going crazy enough to make me want to say “ya’ll”. luckily, a one bedroom in manhattan is my destiny this summer, so thankfully i have some place to walk my new mom-ish shoes around {baby girl loves sensible shoes, even if they age me ten years}.  never have i been more excited to kiss my little floridian weiner dog, or buy mass amounts of mangoes in crates on a street corner in new york. these books are helping homegirl in the meanwhile.

{berlin} berlin stories by robert walser

{berlin + france + boston}  my berlin kitchen by luisa weiss
{the happiest places} the geography of bliss by eric weiner
{britain + america}  i’m a stranger here myself by bill bryson
{ireland}  irish journal by heinrich boll
{europe} neither here nor there by bill bryson
{actually, just read all of the bill bryson: appalachia, britain, australia, small town america}
{paris} the dud avocado by elaine dundy
{italy} la bella figura by beppe severgnini

 

these days;

spring2013

signed a sublease for a charmingly large {that’s what she said, heeey ohhhhh. sorry, mom} one bedroom in upper {upper…upper} manhattan for the summer.

two favorite berries:  pinkberry on newbury.

putting “or whatever” after heartfelt sayings has been my main jam, i.e. “i love you or whatever”, “you’re cute or whatever”, “no, i’ll miss you or whatever.”

edie has been developing a love of fine luggage. baby girl knows what she likes.

the $8.95 thai lunch special at dok bua is both the life and death of me. dumplings on dumplings on curry on dumplings.

fenway has never been more gross and sticky and yet so very much my favorite place, even if i did drop my favorite scarf right into a puddle of day old bud light.

i’m also trying to convince coolidge theater that i can sublet one of their recliner chairs forever, because that’s what success and happiness look like to me.

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kate nash. jukebox the ghost. matt pond pa. all of the paper bags being hyperventilated into. all of them.

the discovery of the one direction store in boston= life has improved a million percent and rising.

my loyalty cards have extended from just cvs to include: panera, petco, dunkin’s, pavement, starbucks, and whatwaslifewithoutfreescones,guys

brother and mother filson and i pillaged the harpoon brewery of its pretzels and harpoon summer. 

{and considered going by ferry to do the same at cisco  brewery in nantucket. we don’t mess around}

tardis blue velvet cake for the whovian manfriend. disgust-o-meter went way off the charts this weekend.

slowly but surely the people of boston are getting back to their normal selves;

…which is to say the italian guys in the north end give me discounts on strawberries for my red hair,  and i delight in the drunken conversations had by people on a saturday night on the train home.

 

 

monday’s fortune;

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{monday’s thai food fortune cookie.}

monday we overslept.
my brother was on a plane home at 9:30am.  mom and i ate thai, until at 2:50 pm my mom looked over my shoulder to see what everyone in the restaurant was staring at on the television.
“ooh! the runners two blocks away from the finish line.”

somehow i knew this couldn’t be right. without my glasses on, i felt this was fishy.
i knew from half-wrecklessly running a half marathon a few years ago that the majority of runners would be finishing around 2:50 in the afternoon.
it seems that someone else knew that, too. curse my mom and i’s poor eye sight.

in a lot of ways, i’m still in shock. the blasts were around 2-3 blocks away from my school. seven students from my school were injured. it’s also the origin of where i first got smitten over boston.
first saw that library rotunda. bought my dried apricots from trader joe’s. get caught by pushy canvassers on my way home.
aimlessly wandered on tuesday afternoons when i had nothing else to do but gawk at buildings and residents of this little city.

in these situations, i can’t even be angry. anger is what your bully wants to see. sadness is what these people feed on.
as a younger sister of an older brother with a penchant for wrestling and light-hearted sibling fighting, i know that you never show that person you’re upset. that’s what they’re looking for. the sooner you stop showing sadness and anger, the sooner the person in question leaves you alone. terrorism, while terrifying, is only successful if terror is sensed in the victims.

boston is better than that.
if you’ve ever gone to a sox game, or a farmer’s market in the italian end, you know these people won’t back down. they will insult your mother. they will be the first to drop their “r”s in conversation, but also the first to fight for you.
if there is anything i feel from yesterday’s events, it’s even more love for this city.

i’ve grown up here, these last few years. i became a fully functioning adult here. and i’m lucky to live here, if not for the people i’ve met, but for the people i haven’t met, who i got to see run yesterday.

not just running  in the marathon, but for the running they did towards the destruction that tore up so many people’s lives, wrecked their dreams of finishing 26.2 miles in boston, rendered them a little less innocent to the things that a small fraction of a fraction of a percentage of the world decide to bring into this world.

because that’s the truth of it. that’s why i can’t be angry or sad.
because these things can’t wreck my view of “humanity” because the people who do these things are a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of the population.
and the runners and helpers towards those people in the blasts outnumber them in the millions and billions.

if you need any more proof of this, click the links below:

the google person finder
runners run to mgh to give blood after marathon
cowboy hat hero saves lives at marathon
13 examples of people being awesome after the bombing
red cross: how to help (apparently, they’ve exceeded what they need. humanity wins again)
 to boston, from kabul, with love

meet edie;

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this is edie. her original name was princess, but we thought that name was lame.
so around these parts we call her “princess edie dalek caan cybermen“.

actually only two of us call her that, but my best friend lately has been a plump cat, so we’ll forget that for now.

she is my new kitten friend. she is ten years old, which technically makes her a dame.

{ guys, i’m so excited to be able to exploit my cat on the internet. i finally feel like i belong in the blogging world.}

she enjoys the following:
-farting.
-showing you her butt.
-clamping on to your shoulder when you hold her.
-having her belly fat rubbed.
-wheezing heavily
{she has cat herpes, which is sort of like the common cold to felines, so she has an adorable case of nasal congestion that i secretly hope never goes away. she sounds like stinky from “hey arnold!”}
-when her cat food is microwaved for 14 seconds.
-she also likes holding hands. and sitting on hands. oh, she loves sitting on hands. that’s babygirl’s favorite.

she does not enjoy the following:

-the bikes in my hallway {she’s been confronting her demons a lot this week}.
-the music of prince.

she’s kind of the best.

obviously we need to get the cat formerly named “princess” to like the artist formerly known as prince,

that’s just necessary for survival in my apartment, but for now she’s all good.

{yeah, i spent all night on that last one. hey-oh.}

{feed the mackenzies} speculoos mini donuts;

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guys, i am a lady of many dreams. most people chuckle at my many varied aspirations. “firewoman?! and you want a great pyrenees dog rescue? and a vermont cabin?! and learn how to sail? and you want to write books?! and learn german? …but wait, firewoman?!”

many people think you can have only one dream in your brain, can only hold one close enough in your heart. and i just think that’s a load of baloney. for as long as i can remember one of those dreams was to have a bakery. it’s gotten more elaborate over the years. it now has a name (“eclair de lune”, and if you steal it  i will fight you, and i am pretty scrappy.)

i also have a growing desktop note on my laptop labeled “kenzie dream bakery” where i have all of the lard-filled creations i plan to fatten up cops and schoolchildren with. i would be known city-wide for my baklava and deep attachment to my crisco container, and my tendency to speak to said crisco container. my dream is not of a bakery with cutesy aprons and banners and polka dots and other things i pin mindlessly on pinterest. i wanna be the old lady who you can’t tell her grays from the flour smattered in her hair.

one of the desserts i dreamt up for my “kenzie dream bakery”, during a super boring 2 hour class on the history of paper, (no joke, this is where all of the donut-flavor combos are born for me),were these little bad boys.

speculoos donuts.

yes, speculoos donuts. yes, that means ground up cookies and butter….inside more sugary flour and more butter. i believe this is what drake has been talking about all along when he first uttered “yolo”. that’s just my bet.

these little guys are pretty simple.{i tend to have whole wheat flour on hand at all times, so like these are basically a superfood. or something.}

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donuts:
1 3/4 c. flour
2/3 c. sugar {seems like on the low side, but the cookie butter really sweetens them a ton.}
1/2-3/4c. speculoos {dutch cookie butter. sold at trader joe’s, dangerously enough} i did this to taste, which is to say i smothered myself in it.
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
2 large eggs
3/4- 1 cups milk, use more if the cookie butter dries the batter out.
1 tsp. vanilla
2 tsp. white vinegar
1/2 cup butter, melted and cooled.

glaze:
1 1/4 c. powdered sugar
remaining giblets of your cookie butter jar {if there’s any left} ~1/4 cup
2-3 tbsp milk
1 tsp. vanilla

1. mix all ingredients together into a medium sized bowl {save milk for last, to see how the texture of batter develops. should be thick but you should be able to mix it without too much effort}
2. transfer batter into a ziplock bag to pipe into donut pan.
3. bake for roughly 12-14 minutes, depending on what size/ shape pan you use. less for minis, more for larger donuts obviously.
4. while donuts bake, mix glaze ingredients in separate bowl, set aside for dipping the little morsels into face down once they are properly cooled.

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….then, debate how you will slyly “motorboat” your face on to the glazed donuts incognito.
this will involve yelling that there is a mouse in the kitchen and your roommates should leave the apartment immediately because you, a baseball bat, and the mouse in question have some talking to do.

or simply put, bake things between 12- 2am, which i sometimes tend to do {re: the 3am guinness-chocolate valentine’s day cake of 2013}.

donuts motorboat’d. problem solved.

i don’t wanna be a cleaning lady, a playlist;

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{click image for playlist. click here for youtube playlist}

this semester has been naps at 5:00….until 8pm.
emails and emails and emails and cover letters and emails.
eating whole avocados. stress cheese stick-eating. spending a two hour class writing 20+ donut flavor combinations for later dates.
biggest loser re-runs and putting “watch more dr.who” as a valid item on the to-do list.

kitten kisses. kitten howls. kitten head-butts. crusty butts in my face. wheezes. and paw-holding.
leaving class because, well, i need a nap. a 5pm nap. and a toasted bagel. and a hug.
devising plans on how to get myself out of this icy siberian tundra i call boston.
convincing the little girl i babysit that she doesn’t have a penis on her head, as much as she might like one.

no one prepared me for how “meh” senior year is. it’s not even sad, it’s more of a very bland hospital waiting room.
that smells like old egg salad and windex.
i’m totally okay with having things not figured out. i don’t even want them all figured out.
that’s boring as shizz, anyways.
i want to be nervous. i want be scared.

…and in the wise words of stevie nicks in an early demo of “sara”, “i wanna be a star, i don’t wanna be a cleaning lady!” 
{which has essentially become my post-grad motto}
i’ve been feeling like a cleaning lady in undergrad.
skipping classes to get $1 hot dogs and lobster tails at mike’s and still pulling b.s. a-minuses is putting me at cleaning lady status.

in some ways i’m shocked i’m about to finish my degree. lots of people were when i initally dropped out.  {god, that post is OLD}
i never went back because i was ashamed, ashamed of what not going to college was like.
if anything, it was to get the experience i wanted to have. i felt like my stories would be richer, my jokes more truthful, and it has done that, i think.

but ya’ll, i’m ready to bust out of this popsicle stand.
this is not to say i’m going to go spend my summer or first post-grad year in europe backpacking to gain “life experience” {i think that’s baloney. go to chicago. go to guam. go to freakin’ omaha. experience isn’t in a swede-filled european hostel, ya derps.}

i’m ready for something more challenging than $3 coffees and handing in lackluster pages.i’m ready to feel the itch. to feel these mustard-colored boots leave the comfort of scratchy cobblestones. to feel uncomfortable.

{this playlist is very much about busting out.
but it’s also good for those moments where you feel like torso-dancing in your car,
or had some turd be passive-aggressive to you at work, at starbucks, at your podiatrist’s office.
it will make you smile. and remember that eddie murphy once had a musical career.}