*The 56 best/worst similes*

I found this gem here.

In case you wanted a flash back to being young like a person who is not missing teeth and hates their life here is a little lesson.

  • He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at asolar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
  • Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.
  • He was as tall as a 6′3″ tree.
  • Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
  • From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.
  • John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
  • She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
  • The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
  • He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
  • Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
  • She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
  • The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
  • The lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object.
  • McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
  • His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
  • Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
  • Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
  • The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.
  • Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
  • The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
  • They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan’s teeth.
  • He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.
  • Even in his last years, Grand pappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
  • He felt like he was being hunted down like a dog, in a place that hunts dogs, I suppose.
  • She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword.
  • She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
  • The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
  • The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
  • “Oh, Jason, take me!” she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.
  • It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
  • It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.
  • He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
  • The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.
  • Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.
  • Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this guy would be buried in the credits as something like “Second Tall Man.”
  • The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.
  • The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red Crayola crayon.
  • She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.
  • Her pants fit her like a glove, well, maybe more like a mitten, actually.
  • Fishing is like waiting for something that does not happen very often.
  • They were as good friends as the people on “Friends.”
  • Oooo, he smells bad, she thought, as bad as Calvin Klein’s Obsession would smell if it were called Enema and was made from spoiled Spamburgers instead of natural floral fragrances.
  • The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee (D-Tex.) in her first several points of parliamentary procedure made to Rep. Henry Hyde (R-Ill.) in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the impeachment of President William Jefferson Clinton.
  • He was as bald as one of the Three Stooges, either Curly or Larry, you know, the one who goes woo woo woo.
  • The sardines were packed as tight as the coach section of a 747.
  • Her eyes were shining like two marbles that someone dropped in mucus and then held up to catch the light.
  • The baseball player stepped out of the box and spit like a fountain statue of a Greek god that scratches itself a lot and spits brown, rusty tobacco water and refuses to sign autographs for all the little Greek kids unless they pay him lots of drachmas.
  • I felt a nameless dread. Well, there probably is a long German name for it, like Geschpooklichkeit or something, but I don’t speak German. Anyway, it’s a dread that nobody knows the name for, like those little square plastic gizmos that close your bread bags. I don’t know the name for those either.
  • She was as unhappy as when someone puts your cake out in the rain, and all the sweet green icing flows down and then you lose the recipe, and on top of that you can’t sing worth a damn.
  • Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.
  • It came down the stairs looking very much like something no one had ever seen before.
  • Bob was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access T:flw.quid55328.com\aaakk/ch@ung but gets T:\flw.quidaaakk/ch@ung by mistake.
  • You know how in “Rocky” he prepares for the fight by punching sides of raw beef? Well, yesterday it was as cold as that meat locker he was in.
  • The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric fan set on medium.
  • Her lips were red and full, like tubes of blood drawn by an inattentive phlebotomist.
  • The sunset displayed rich, spectacular hues like a .jpeg file at 10 percent cyan, 10 percent magenta, 60 percent yellow and 10 percent black.
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*little miss, how does your garden grow?*

I have this problem of believing everything I read. Luck for me this belief in text usually takes stronghold when the books I am reading are full of nuggets of wisdom, insight and give me a greater perspective of the world, like the omnivore dilemma, am I little late jumping on the bandwagon? I had heard about this book and I have a good friend that would wear a I heart Michael Pollan shirt if they made them, but I thought come on, I know these things-I read fast food nation I don’t need to re-visit slaughter houses to get it, I was wrong. As fast food nation is a critic of exactly what it says it is, the fast food nation. The omnivore dilemma gives a more holistic view of our nations obsession with food and our governments support or lack of support within that. It peers into the organic movement and the local movements and the struggles and rewards of small farms, farmer markets and the CSA system(community supported agriculture). It makes me want to grow my own food, preserve it with canning and pickling, and make wine and cheese. I have had these sorts of longing but now I think about it with such ridiculous obsession and I have planned how I can learn all of these tasks in Armenia in the months I have left in country.

For those in the US. There are many a’ resources for you: There are community gardens, farm to school programs, and community support systems for new and old gardeners.

Roger Doiron wants to start a revolution in your back yard! That is a revolution with veggies.

some fun things:

smart gardener-This is the best garden tool. It tells you when to grow what, what is best for your area and size of garden, you can develop garden plans and layouts and customize to do lists. wowser.

simply canning-The mother load on canning, dehydrating, freezing and home food preservation.

canvolution!-canning across America, support, recipes and fun.

*baby it is cold outside*

Don’t ask me why, as the snow slowly crawls down the mountain sides I have become a morning, cold smoothie fan. Perhaps it is because as the weather gets colder the availability of vegetables decreases or perhaps it is because with a morning smoothie I get to experiment and feel so energized afterwards.

Perhaps some of you know about this guy

well, it turns out the milk isn’t really as good for you as we are told. The thing about “needing milk for healthy bones” is actually a lie. What happens is milk can actually strip calcium from your bones leading to higher rates of osteoporosis. I remember reading the book, Eat, drink and be healthy, The Harvard Medical School Guide to Healthy Eating  and well they talk about the negative effects of milk consumption and the lies we are told by the milk industry.

The newest ideas about nutritional health is based on what they call the healthy plate

What does this have to do with smoothies you ask?

Well I have found that since dairy is playing a minor role in my life I have had the opportunity to make milk of a different sort-that of nuts, oats and grains.

Nut milk
soak nuts overnight
blend nuts with water
Strain
add vanilla, stevia or other sweetener, cinnamon…(whatever you like)
Oat milk

cook 1 cup of oats
add4 cups or so of water
1 banana (can be omitted but it gives the milk a nice sweetness)
blend
vanilla and sweetener
Rice milk

cook one cup of rice in 8 cups water for 3-4 hours
blend
add vanilla, sweetener…
strain

The reality is making your own milk is really easy and really fun. Give it a try. All you need is a blender and some nuts, grains or oats.

*cut, so good*

I am resisting the urge to go out and buy 15 eggs and more vinegar and lock myself in my kitchen until I can finally poach an egg. I attempted to poach an egg according to Martha, with no luck. But I think breakfast rolls around once everyday and I have a date with a pan, water, egg and vinegar tomorrow morning and I am going to try a different method, thanks youtube.

Other things think I have learned from youtube..
How to cut an onion

a cucumber

peppers

and garlic

*Good.morn.ing*

I awoke in typical, I drank a bottle of wine by-myself fashion, with a dry mouth and confusion at 4 this morning. I can already sense this little note will be littered with mildly relevant cultural and pop references and have little to do with the crepes I just ate for breakfast.

Beginning on the journey of my morning: 4 am

I read a little of the book Julie and Julia 

I hate the main character (the author) of this book. She is self indulgent, self obsessed and not the kind of person I would want to be friends with or invite to a dinner party. I am not the largest fan of this book, yet I feel like this book is an appropriate read for my month of Martha. The main character was making crepes in the book-so I thought…let’s makes some crepes.

I made crepes

my last three crepes turned out exactly like my first two should of.

I wanted to make Spinach-Gruyere Gateau de Crepes

but I didn’t have all the ingredients. So I mixed mustard and sour cream and put it with some chard, onions and curry powder-Lesson 1. don’t do that ever again.

I organized my spice rack for the second time this month. Lucky for me I actually enjoy organizing it and I have no clue how to keep it organized, it works well for me.

Then I watched videos of the adorable Julia Child

And the mind-numbingly annoying Julie Powell

and researched what to do with egg cartons..

and..

Two cups of coffee later, laundry done, and counters cleaned, this type of a morning makes me want to drink wine and dance everyday.
That is until 6pm roles around and I am tired and have to go to bed like an old person in a nursing home. Eh, I see no problem here.

*Full of lovely stuff*

I know nothing about advertising, nothing. But I do know a few things about being a human and having a lizard brain and I think this advertisement by Skoda Fabia would push me to want to EAT (buy) that delicious cake car, while songs from my youth play and the environmental polluter becomes a friendly car cake.

In other Martha news: I have been ironing every single item of my clothing, folding them, and putting them away. It is utter hell. I just finished and in celebration I got wasted by myself and pretended I was at a dance club. I did the running man, I dropped it like it was hot and I am a little tipsy right now. I think Martha would do the same.  In sweeter news; I made Amy Sedaris’s cupcakes with a little girl today and she experienced cupcakes for the first time. Have I mentioned I love this women and her cupcakes.

*coffee and cake*

Featured on countless MUST READ lists, how to make friends and influence people forgot to mention Martha Stewart’s almond-berry coffee cake. The book isn’t just for creepy business majors or socially inept individuals (though it would behoove them to read it) it is a basic tell all of how to not be a jerk and how to get people to like you by being friendly, interesting and a good friend, employee, person…But! it failed because if you really want to make friends, succeed in business, impress people, have fame and fortune..make Martha’s coffee cake and enjoy it with others.

It is the kind of food that you don’t even want to keep for yourself you want to throw it to the masses and say-eat! there is a party that is about to happen in your mouth.

*this side of somewhere*

I have never really been that impressed with potatoes. Perhaps it is the anthropomorphic, Mr. potato and his wife Mrs. Potato head that screwed with my taste buds and mind. Instead of being able to enjoy the flavors of the potato I feel shame and guilt for eating my childhood friends. Or maybe it is that the only way that potatoes are flavored in my life has been with with butter, oil, salt and occasionally some yellow seasoning or green stuff. Potatoes always felt like the cousin that would come over on Saturday, drinking wine coolers and wearing last years fashion-you would entertain her for a bit but really you just want her to get out of your house as soon as possible. I had a bag of potatoes hanging out on my kitchen floor that were left over from a camp we had, typically I would think about what to do with them, make stamps, mashes, soups…but they would sprout-turning into terrifying creatures, before I would actually make anything with them (because I didn’t really want to make anything with them anyways). This month I have been making something new and delicious everyday I discovered that yummy and potatoes go well together.

I racked my mind for fun potato recipes-put them in the oven, put them in some water, put them in some oil. BORING! Put eggs, flour, and salt in them blend them together roll them like a snake and put them in water-oh, yeah! Gnocchi.

Gnocchi pronounced nok-ee but me, being all Italian and unknowing like to say gnok-ee. Alright, alright this is like Nietzsche pronounced nee-chuh not chee or whatever all I know is that potato pasta gnocchi is delicious and I haven’t, yet, been able to get through a book by Nietzsche. Now on to more important things-Martha Stewart and her recipe for gnocchi you can watch a video with Francis Ford Coppola and Martha together making gnocchi, which I suggest because he tells stories about his family, life and gnocchi (traditionally served on Thursdays) or you can go to youtube.

I think this would be great paired with some cheese.

and maybe some wine.