Jolie the feminist?

Jolie the feminist? 2

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A conversation on the way to the gym last week:

Me: Who do you think would be a better mother? Jolie or Penny?

Scott: They’re both fixed, so it really doesn’t matter.

Me: I know…but just pretend they aren’t.

Scott: Penny.

Me: Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. Plus, Jolie would have already started menopause by now.

Scott: Jolie wouldn’t want puppies…even if she was capable of having them.

Me: Totally. She’s way too lazy to be a mother. She’d just sleep all day and growl at the babies for interrupting her nap time. Kind of like what would happen if we ever had a child.

Scott: That’s not true. I mean…Jolie is like you–she doesn’t really want to be a mother, but if it were to happen she’d rise to the occasion and do her best.

Me: Jolie would probably make a way better mother than I would.

Scott: Yeah. I’ll second that.

(A few moments of thoughtful silence.)

Scott: You know, I don’t think Jolie doesn’t want puppies because she’s lazy — it’s more because she’s a feminist.

Me: A feminist?

Scott: Yeah. Except she’d be a “bitchist”.

Me: A bitchist?

Scott: Yeah. You know…since female dogs are called bitches?

Me: Yeah. I figured that one out. By the way, there are plenty of feminists who have children.

Scott: That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying that her decision to remain puppiless is a social statement more than anything else.

Me:  {eye roll)

Scott: She’s an independent Chipin!

Me: Honestly, I think it was less of a social statement and more the result of a hysterectomy she had absolutely no say in.

Scott: Whatever. You’re the one who started this stupid conversation.

Me: Also? I don’t think bitchists get carried around in purses or willingly wear hair extensions.


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Biscuits & Gravy

Biscuits & Gravy 4

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This weekend, I hosted a lazy Sunday brunch at the house for some of my girlfriends. The get-together was a great success, aside from the part where I drank way too many mimosas and ended up falling over in the garage after everyone left.

(Happens to the best of us, right?)

Biscuits with sausage gravy is quite possibly my all-time favorite breakfast food. This home-cooked comfort food has become a go-to entertaining recipe in my house over the past year, and I’m crazy excited to share my super-simple recipe that is guaranteed to induce an early afternoon food coma. (In the best possible way.)

Drop Biscuits

Rolling out biscuit dough and punching perfectly circular discs with a cookie cutter is way too much effort for this girl. These drop biscuits taste just as good (if not better!) than their high-maintenance siblings, and are a fraction of the work. Here’s what you’ll need:

  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 stick salted butter (chilled)
  • 1 tablespoon baking powder
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 cup milk
  1. Cut the chilled butter into tiny cubes. (Just like you would when making pie crust.)
  2. Combine flour, cubed butter, baking powder in salt in a food processor or stand-up mixer. Mix ingredients until pea-sized clumps form. (This doesn’t take long, so don’t overmix!)
  3. Stir in milk by hand until all the ingredients are combined and the dough it moist and sticky. (Again, beware of overmixing.)
  4. Use a large spoon to drop clumps of dough (about 1/2 cup worth for each biscuit) onto a pan. Bake at 400 degrees for 18-20 minutes.

Simple, right? I get tons of compliments each time I whip these up. Just don’t feed them to your dogs.

(Unless you don’t have a problem cleaning canine vomit out of your shag carpet the next morning.)

These biscuits are wonderful with butter and honey, a dollop of jam, or just on their own. But if you really want to achieve that food coma (and why wouldn’t you??), I highly suggest this gravy.

Sausage Gravy

  • 1 16 oz tube of Jimmy Dean pork sausage. (The “hot” flavor is definitely the best.)
  • All purpose flour (not sure how much…I just kinda wing it)
  • Milk (again with the winging it)
  • Salt and pepper
  1. Brown the sausage in a pan (a cast-iron skillet is ideal). Don’t drain the fat.
  2. Once the meat is browned, reduce heat to low and sprinkle flour over the sausage. (Maybe about 1/4 cup-ish? The more flour you use, the thicker your gravy will be.) Stir the sausage/flour mixture until meat is coated.
  3. Repeat step 2
  4. Gradually add milk, stirring continuously. Keep (slowly) adding until gravy reaches desired consistency.
  5. Add salt and pepper to taste.


Boom. See how simple that was? It’s the only recipe in the world I’ve ever been able to memorize…a true sign that it’s nearly impossible to screw up.

Oh…and I completely forgot to take photos of the food (curse you, mimosas!) but the biscuits look just like the image I stole borrowed and used at the top of this post. As for the gravy…I’ll let you use your imagination. I’ve never seen gravy that looked all that appealing to begin with, so posting a gravy pic seems counter intuitive, and just kind of gross.


What’s your go-to recipe for brunch? I made these maple-bacon skewers yesterday, and was pleasantly surprised with how delicious and easy they were.

(Alright…maybe I wasn’t that surprised. I’ve never met a stick of bacon I didn’t like.)

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Does this mean I’m getting old?

Does this mean I’m getting old? 11

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Surprising things that are gaining appeal with each passing year…

Bar Soap 

I’m officially over the whole “luxury body wash” thing. Soap just makes me feel, well, cleaner. And no accessories are required! I mean, let’s face it — loofahs are annoying and kind of gross. Do you share them? Wash them? Have a special loofah for guests? A bar of soap (I got addicted to this brand in Maui) is so much simpler.

Black Coffee

Lattes started tasting like coffee-flavored milkshakes to me a few years back. (You can read my full rant on that here.) I’ve officially started preparing my morning cup(s) of joe just like my grandparents did — strong, black and with a tiny dash of cream.


I’ve got to give credit to Scott for this one. Tortured by my habit of blasting top 40 hits each time we drove somewhere, he finally put his foot down and forced me to listen to Minnesota Public Radio. It definitely took a few months…but I’m proud to say I’ve finally (somewhat) outgrown Gaga, and have graduated to David Brancaccio. Believe it or not, I now listen to NPR even when driving alone! (Needless to say, Scott is overjoyed at not having to listen to so much Britney on the drive to the gym.)

Granny Panties

I love ‘em, and I don’t care who knows it.  Don’t believe me? Check out my ode to the saggy, baggy undergarment I hold so dear to my heart bum.


They help my joints. And unlike taking showers, I can read the latest edition of Martha Stewart Living while in the tub. (Told you I’m getting old.)


I’ll never forget the day Scott sprain fractured his neck in college. I frantically ran into the emergency room to see if he was okay (he was) only to be stopped dead in my tracks by one of the surgeons. He pointed down at my fabulous, 5-inch  pink pointy toed booties (it was 2004) giving me a look of disapproval. “I’ll be seeing you in a few years for the damage those things are doing,” he warned me with a grave seriousness.

Ten years later, I’m starting to see his point. Thankfully, I don’t have any foot issues, but my tootsies can’t handle stilettos at all like they used to. Sure, I’ll don a fierce pair of heels for special occasions, but ninety-nine percent of the time I’m wearing a comfy–yet still totally chic–pair of flats. (These are my absolute favorites.) At five-foot-six, I’m plenty tall without assistance from from my footwear–plus, I certainly don’t need any more ankle sprains.

Playing Cards

Given the choice between a night on the town, or an evening in playing cards, I’ll pick staying home every time. I mean…what’s better than a rousing game of Cards Against Humanity? I’m also considering starting my own Bunco group. (My grandmother is high-fiving me from the grave for that idea.)

My affinity for cruises…?

This BuzzFeed quiz informed me I’m destined to spend a wild and crazy spring break on…a cruise ship.

I’m officially twenty-nine going on eighty.

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Pushing up tulips

Pushing up tulips 2

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Yesterday, I whined about how the melting snow revealed an extremely unfortunate poop cul-de-sac in my backyard.

But my complaining in regards to our winter thaw are far from done. I have yet to complain about our 20-yard driveway.

(Twenty yards is an approximate estimate as I have no depth perception/inherent measuring skills. Regardless of my ballpark figure’s accuracy, just know that our driveway is really freaking long.)

It’s also, in my humble opinion, the most difficult driveway to back out of in all of Minnesota. Even in good conditions. The “gravel runway” leading to our garage initially appears straight…but is in fact quite crooked. It also slopes up to meet the adjoining dirt road. This has been the source of great agony for myself and the Corolla over the past three months.

Great agony.

Our tiny Toyota has found itself stuck in the snowy drifts of our driveway more times than I care to admit. On the bright side, in no less than twelve months I’ve gone from a girl who doesn’t own a snow shovel and has no idea how to dig a car out, to a tire digging madwoman who eats snowdrifts for breakfast.

But that doesn’t mean I enjoy the process.

Needless to say, I was jumping for joy as the snow in our driveway slowly turned to slush. No more embarrassing shoveling while the neighbors look on, shaking their heads in disgust at the fact that you still haven’t purchased a snow plow.

(Or so I thought.)

Little did I know that getting out of the driveway in melting snow is actually worse than getting out of the driveway in regular snow. Watch this video, and you’ll see what I mean.

Unfortunately, I mistakenly cut the video about ten seconds short, which means you only witnessed  2/3 of the havoc wreaked on our driveway yard. But what I’m lacking in video footage, I’ll make up for with a snarky bulleted list of what exactly went wrong during my two hour battle with the slush.

  • I tried to pull out backwards and forwards, both with no luck.
  • I got stuck approximately ten different times.
  • I FaceTimed Scott and started swearing.
  • I  hit a tree.
  • I was forced to dig up half a dozen tulip bulbs that had the misfortune of being stuck under my front driver’s side tire.
  • I FaceTimed Scott and started crying.
  • I gave my very best puppy eyes to a neighbor driving by, hoping they would feel sorry for me and come help with my efforts. (They didn’t.)
  • My hands started bleeding due to a nasty snow shovel callous.
  • The neighbor’s German Shepherd (yes….the same one responsible for all the poop) taunted me the entire time.


  • The copious amounts of sweat dripping from my head ruined my blowout.
  • I FaceTimed Scott and started laughing. (While crying.) (And sweating.)
  • I finally got the car out of the driveway. (Without running into the German Shepherd, thankfully.)
  • I blasted the radio as I pulled out onto a slush-free paved road. “This Is How We Do It” resounded through the cabin of the Corolla. All was right with the world.


P.S. It’s supposed to snow again today. If I have to go through this again, I might dig up the rest of our tulips on purpose out of sheer spite and rage.

P.P.S. I really love our neighbors. And their dog. In other words…there are no hard feelings about the poop.

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