This morning I woke up with the distinct impression of both sets of teeth in my cheeks, made a Tabasco-laced breakfast, and put on my cranky pants.
I grumbled through a morning meeting, spent too much money on home goods, and stared blankly at the Subway employee who asked me if I wanted PEPPERONI on my veggie sandwich.
Then I resisted the urge to throw my Tim Gunn page-a-day calendar at the wall. (Today's advice is "Treat your pants with respect and your dresses with dignity." Yesterday reminded me not to wear a coat with the label still attached to the sleeve. It's sartorial advice for feral people.)
I think I'm mostly sleep- and money-deprived, which would explain why I've turned the inside of my mouth into a midnight snack. It makes for easy Tuesday posts, though, as the list of things I cannot afford grows ever longer.
The Woodside kitchen would have one of these for every door if the bank would just deposit someone else's money in my account for me. Granted, I only have eight cabinet doors, but that's, what? $500? Yeah, I can do math.
When the weather is chilling and brisk, as it is here, I start to falsely romanticize summer as warm and delightful as opposed to sweaty and horrible. Were I throwing a beautifully elegant outdoor party, I'd serve the lemonade in this.
The glass would keep bugs at bay, and the lemony yellow beaming through the smoky decanter would make me smile.
I have a drawer with a motley assortment of measuring tools, most of which are crusted with old cottage cheese/eggs/something that looks suspiciously like mildew (indestructible silicone, meet K). This seems like a nutball price for measuring cups, but look how utilitarian!
My basic criterion for kitchen tools is that you can back over them with your car without incident, and I think these fill the bill. According to Sur La Table, they won't rust or react to food, either, and my culinary endeavors are pretty incendiary.
There's at least a 90% chance I've already posted this.
That only serves to prove HOW MUCH I DESIRE IT. For now I keep my salt at the ready in an ugly sushi dish with a teaspoon sticking out of it. I manage to turn that spoon into a salt catapult more often than I'd like to admit. This solves that problem (function!) beautifully (form!).
I'd never even heard of a garlic grater until today.
Although you can guess (YELLOW!) what drew me to it. I've seen people grate garlic before—on a Microplane or on the knuckle-shredding side of a box grater—but I love this. Especially the suggestion to pour oil onto the surface, over the garlicky shreds, then serve as a dip with crusty bread. I love a product with a bonus feature.
I admit that of these the heart mold is predictable and cheesy, unless you have sappy kids or something, but the star is kicky.
I could see it as the topper for a pretty (though potentially ridiculous) huevos rancheros.
The 20th is only a week away, so put your orders in for this, stat.
Though there is guaranteed to be boundless toasting that day, should any Inaugural vino go unsipped, I'd cap off the bottle with this.
I'm not generally a pretty-pretty-princess girl, but something about the steel gray and the facets appeals to my muted elegance sensibility.
Note: Muted elegance is something I strive for. I generally wind up somewhere between fall-down girl and screechily neurotic lady.
Here's a little cheat this week: This is free!
I credit its discovery to LSis. The photos are beautiful, the tone is irreverent (go figure), and the basset is perfection.
But ultimately, if George W. Bush decided to send me a $50 bill right this second, I'd probably spend it on a subscription to this.
For most anything that's more than I can afford, and certainly for four issues. But have you seen lovelier loveliness in your life?
See there? It's rendered me redundant.
Tune in tomorrow, folks. There's frost in the air and (FINGERS CROSSED) there will be soup on the stove tonight. Unless I get distracted by hard liquor and American Idol. Stranger things have happened.