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tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83738911925396465932014-12-20T01:19:08.690-08:00joeycakejoeycakehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-18634410105592152332014-12-10T09:21:00.001-08:002014-12-12T13:46:11.700-08:00classic peanut butter cookies

The other night I dreamed I was with my friend Jenn as she was giving birth to her daughter. I was on the hospital bed with her, just up there hanging out ON THE BED WITH HER while she was in labor. (Boundaries much?) It was getting toward the end. She was in a sweaty, altered state pushing that baby down, and when the doctor said, "One more!", she pushed HARD and the baby girl came shooting out like a torpedo. All at once she was here and wiggling on the bed between us. The nurse swooped in just then, to wipe off the baby and wrap her in a soft blanket. Smiling, she held out the newborn to Jenn. The new mom barely looked up. Instead she held up a tired finger and said, "Hold on a minute," and then reached over to a side table where, in a pristine spotlight, there sat the most perfect donut you've ever seen: glazed with shiny chocolate frosting. And big. She tenderly picked up the pastry and proceeded to savor it deliberately, bite by bite, with her eyes closed in rapture. When she (finally) finished, she licked her fingers and her lips, opened her eyes with a giant smile, reached her arms out wide to the dumbstruck nurse and said, "Okay, give me my baby!"

I think this might be the most quintessential pregnancy dream ever. Labor is there, and also a newborn, even a hospital with doctors and nurses. But most importantly: The Donut.

If you swap out the donut for a peanut butter cookie, I would appreciate this dream even more than I do already. The baby boy I'm growing inside me is demanding peanut butter these days (and he's been really bossy about it). I've had funny waves of cravings along my pregnancy journey. The first trimester was very cream-cheese-centric, trimester #2 was all about chicken-salad sandwiches and Arnold Palmers, and now? In the home stretch? Peanut butter. On apples, on toast, by the spoonful and via the best delivery system ever: cookies.

(Bonus: Peanut butter cookies can be Christmas Cookies if you make them at Christmastime!)

----------------------------------------------------

Classic Peanut Butter Cookies
makes about 3 dozen cookies (depending upon how big you roll them)

1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, softened
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup crunchy peanut butter (not the natural kind--Skippy is great for cookies)
1 egg
2 t vanilla
1-1/2 cups flour
1/2 t baking powder
1/2 t baking soda
1/2 t kosher salt
granulated sugar for rolling before baking

Preheat oven to 375F and line a baking sheet with parchment paper. In a medium-sized bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Set aside. In an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugar for several minutes until light and fluffy. Add the peanut butter and mix well. Add the egg and vanilla, scrape down the sides of the bowl and mix again. Bit by bit, add the flour mixture until just combined. Roll dough into 1" balls, coat in granulated sugar and place on baking sheet 2" apart. Flatten with a fork in a criss-cross fashion and bake for 10-13 minutes or until edges are golden.

P.S. You aren't required to chill the dough before rolling but you can refrigerate for a day or two or freeze it for a week or two.

Happy Holiday time, lovelies!
xoxo
joliejoeycakehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-33139426436074948822014-12-01T16:05:00.001-08:002014-12-01T16:05:51.895-08:00The Bouqs

While in High School, I dated a guy for about 5 minutes. On one of our few dates we went to a neighborhood Italian place (where he inhaled a giant meatball sandwich), and then back to his place to make out (classy, eh?). We fell asleep tangled up on his twin bed and a couple hours later when we woke up, he leaned over and open-mouth kissed me with his garlic/meatball/ass breath and that's pretty much all it took for me to want to break up with him. Maybe I mentioned this to a girlfriend and word got back to him because the next day I came home from school, and at my front door was a single, long-stemmed red rose accompanied by a small card that simply read call me written in gold calligraphy. I wondered how many times he practiced writing call me with his calligraphy pen before getting it right. (Remember how hard it was to hold those things so the flat side was at ye olde perfect slanted angle?!) After momentarily being impressed by his calligraphy balls, I steeled myself, dialed his number, and then broke up with him over the phone. Ugh. I'm awful. But that breath was Bad News Bears, you guys. Anyway. That was the most memorable floral delivery I've ever received.

Until now.

The delightfully nice people at The Bouqs sent Joeycake (me) some gorgeous flowers! Have you heard of The Bouqs? You know when you have to send flowers to someone and you kinda freak out? Because let's say they live far away and you have no idea where to order them from? You could choose somewhere local that you're just pulling out of thin air via a quick google search, but are they gonna be good? Or do you go with some FTD situation that feels homogenized, somewhat impersonal and usually downright cheesy? There is another, much more kick-ass option: The Bouqs offer sustainably-grown, super-fresh flowers (grown in rich volcanic soil) at really cheap prices ($40 out the door). Bonus: they last longer than most high-school relationships. The roses they sent me lasted a full 12 days. They were so great looking for so long that we started to become suspicious of them. The Bouqs have a beautiful, chic selection, they ship directly via FedEx, have flat-rate shipping and zero hidden fees. I can't rave about them enough. They just might be good enough to make someone forget your sour meatball breath.

You can check out their website here. They're always having deals but today there are some special Cyber Monday ones too.

Happy Monday!
Hope you had a delicious Thanksgiving weekend:)
xoxo
jolie

P.S. FYI: All opinions posted by me on Joeycake are my very own and I would never rave about anything here that I don't stand behind.joeycakehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-88643881067546855822014-11-26T14:53:00.002-08:002014-11-26T15:07:25.955-08:00pumpkin cranberry bread

It's almost Thanksgiving! (My very most favorite:)) Don't you just love Thanksgiving for all that it is (food, family, gratitude) and all that it's not (shopping, wrapping, hustling about)? I have so much to appreciate this year. So many blessings.

I can't believe I'm already in the home stretch of this pregnancy. At 35 weeks along, I'm seriously slowing down. And for someone who is usually on the go (and who kind of loves to be on the go), it's been strange and also surprisingly nice. It's not the kind of slowing down where you try and talk yourself into taking it easy. Physically my body is requiring it. I'll be standing there talking to someone and this one-track-mind urge hits me and I can't even focus on what they're saying because my whole body is screaming for a place to sit down. Take a load off, it says, put your feet up.

I imagine, too, it's awesome to surrender to this deceleration. Because once the baby arrives (I hear) you enter this dreamy, hazy, sleepy, sweet, intimate time where you just slow slow slow down to the baby's rhythms and take it all moment by moment. I can feel myself being lulled there. Mind if we finish this conversation lying down? My eyes are closed but I'm totally listening.

I had to run waddle to the grocery store early this morning to get a couple last items for my Thanksgiving dinner contribution and as I was enjoying slowly moving about and gathering this and that in the quiet store, I came upon one of my least favorite of the store's employees: a super swarthy and oily fellow who looks like he actually might tie someone to a railroad track while twisting his pointy mustache. This guy always seeks me out, too, despite my best efforts to avoid him. He's always switching checkout lines to bag my groceries and make awkward conversation. Let me put it this way: there is another employee there who has a hook for a hand and he's not nearly as scary as this dude. Here's how it went down today:

SWARTHY VILLAINOUS GROCERY FELLOW: "Hi."

Crap.

ME: "Hi."

SWARTHY VILLAINOUS GROCERY FELLOW: "I can't wait to see your baby."

I smile uncomfortably.

SWARTHY VILLAINOUS GROCERY FELLOW: "Can I see him?"

ME: "Um. Well, not now. He's still cooking. But I imagine someday you might see him."

Much to my chagrin.

SWARTHY VILLAINOUS GROCERY FELLOW: "What's wrong with your eyes?"

ME: "Uh…sorry?"

SWARTHY VILLAINOUS GROCERY FELLOW: "They look very sad today."

ME: "Oh."

SWARTHY VILLAINOUS GROCERY FELLOW: "Why?"

ME: "Um. I don't know. Maybe because I don't have any makeup on."

He looks closer.

SWARTHY VILLAINOUS GROCERY FELLOW: "Yep, you're right."

Awkward beat.

SWARTHY VILLAINOUS GROCERY FELLOW: "Are you happy?"

ME: "Well, I was. Before this conversation."

He laughs maniacally. And for the first time in a long time I wished I could make a quick getaway.

________________________________________________

Pumpkin Cranberry Bread
yields one loaf
adapted from Bobby Flay's Pumpkin Bread

Promise me you'll make this before you put all the pumpkin away this season. It's super moist and crazy delicious with those sweet-tart cranberries cutting through all the spicy spices.

1-3/4 cups all-purpose flour (you can sub up to half of this for whole wheat flour if you like)
1/2 t kosher salt
1 t baking soda
1/2 t baking powder
1 t ground cinnamon
1/2 t freshly grated nutmeg
1/4 t ground allspice
1/4 t ground cloves
4 T butter, softened, plus more for buttering the pan
1-1/2 cups brown sugar
1/4 cup canola oil
1 cup canned pumpkin puree (unflavored)
2 large eggs
1/2 cup water
1-1/2 cups fresh cranberries, rinsed, sorted and roughly chopped

Preheat oven to 350F. Butter a 9" loaf pan and set aside.

In a medium bowl, add the flour, salt, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice and cloves. Whisk well to combine. Set aside.

In an electric mixer, cream the butter, brown sugar and oil together on high speed until creamy and fluffy, scraping down the sides when necessary. Add the pumpkin puree and mix well. Add the eggs one-at-a-time, mixing in between. Mixing on low, add the flour mixture a bit at a time, alternating with the water, until everything is just mixed in. Stir in the chopped cranberries. Pour into your prepared pan, bake for 75 minutes or until a toothpick/skewer tester comes out clean and let cool completely.

I'm thankful for YOU!
Hope you have the most Happy Thanksgiving:)
xoxo
jolie

P.S. Still need recipes for your TG feast? Joeycake has a "Thanksgiving" section in the recipe index!joeycakehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-13384348579364267402014-11-18T11:39:00.000-08:002014-11-18T14:19:16.638-08:00pineapple coconut protein shake with greens

34 weeks pregnant over here and counting. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you people have now begun to literally point at me and shout, "You're HUGE!"

So there's that.

At the hardware store several weeks ago, an employee bustled past me and as he did, he pointed at my belly and shouted his guess at my due date. Like I was a walking how-many-jellybeans-are-in-the-jar contest. It would've (maybe?) been funny had his guess not been TWO MONTHS EARLY.

You know how you're not supposed to EVER ask a woman if she's pregnant? How that is like an Unwritten Rule of Being a Good Person? Well, once one has confirmed she is pregnant, that shouldn't give one carte blanche to say/ask her anything without using one's noodle. These juicy items come to mind:

"YOU'RE HUGE!!"
"You must be ready to POP!"
"Any day now, huh?"
"What are you, nine months?"
"You sure there's only one in there?!"
"You still have six more weeks to go? WOW!"
"How much weight have you gained so far?"**

(**My father poses this question whenever we talk now (which is often). It's like he's my Overeaters Anonymous sponsor. It never fails to make me flinch. And every time, I consider trying to make a joke and dodge the topic. But he's my dad and I know he means well, so inevitably I just tell him my weight. Which I'm realizing now is why he probably keeps asking me.)

Can we add these types of things to the Unwritten Person Rules? None of these things help us Preggos. Here are some handy replacements:

"Can I get you a chair?"
"You're glowing!"
"You don't even look pregnant from the back!"
"I have an extra half-sandwich here with your name on it."
"Another Arnold Palmer?"
"Want me to tie your shoes for you?"
"You have never looked so sexy!"

Consider this a public service announcement on behalf of Preggos everywhere. Bonus: I will be genuinely excited if you say any of the above to me especially if you also forget to ask me how much weight I've gained.

---------------------------------------------------------

Pineapple Coconut Protein Shake with Greens
yields 1 large or 2 smaller shakes

Some of my baby websites are telling me that this week, the child inside me is the size of a large pineapple, so let's toast to that with some pineapple protein shakes! These are so good, pregnant or no.

6 oz. unsweetened coconut milk
4 oz. water
1 cup frozen pineapple chunks
1/2 frozen banana
2 heaping cups fresh spinach
1 T flax meal (ground flax seeds)
1 T coconut oil
1 scoop vanilla protein powder

Place all ingredients in a blender and blend! Add ice if your fruit is not frozen.

xoxoxo
joliejoeycakehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-62092152325868234972014-10-31T09:00:00.000-07:002014-10-31T09:01:49.398-07:00pumpkin spiced rice krispie treats with brown butter

Happy Halloween, Joeycakers!! What fun and spooky things are you up to? One of my acting students asked me what I was gonna be for Halloween and I told them: A Pregnant Lady Laying on Her Couch Eating. So it's gonna be a pretty amazing night over here at our house. And I say that with zero irony.

Speaking of Halloween-amazing, I heard the scariest thing on NPR this week: There is a sub-genre of erotic romance novels that involves heroines traveling back to prehistoric times and having good times* with dinosaurs.

(*super raunchy sexy sex)

I'll just let that sit a second while your brain implodes.

Ok, ready? Here is a synopsis of "Taken by the T-Rex", written by Christie Sims (who seems to have cornered the Dinosaur Erotica market):

Drin is her tribe's chief huntress; she lives for the thill of the hunt. Men and sex hold no allure for her, as Drin has never found a partner to satisfy her. When a T-Rex descends upon her village, Drin taunts the beast, giving her tribe mates time to flee. As she runs, leading it through a gauntlet of traps, the thrill of the hunt soars through her blood, leaving her wet with desire. When the angry T-Rex corners the huntress in a box canyon, it seems more interested in her wet womanhood than in her flesh.

Other titillating titles by Sims include "Ravished by the Raptor", "Taken by the Pterodactyl", "In The Velociraptor's Nest", and maybe my favorite, "Dino Park After Dark". Here's the cover of "Ravished By The Triceratops" (somebody's learning photoshop!):

I suppose all ladies should feel free to explore their deep, dark fantasies, whether they include extinct predators or couch-laying. So more power to Christie Sims and her loyal readers. (And to me.)

For a different kind of titillating fantasy, check out these autumnal Rice Krispie Treats. They are so good they'll make you forget you can't be caressed by a sexy Brontosaurus in real life.

Pumpkin Spiced Rice Krispie Treats with Brown Butter
recipe adapted from The Kitchn
makes one batch (about 12)

There are two methods here. One uses actual pumpkin and is a bit more high-maintenance, one just uses the spices and is easy-peasy. Read the whole deal and follow your heart.

4T unsalted butter
1/4 cup canned pumpkin puree**
1-10oz bag mini marshmallows
1/4 t vanilla extract
1/2 t pumpkin pie spice
pinch kosher salt
6 cups rice krispies

Butter a 9x13 (or 8x11 or 9x9) baking pan and set aside. Over medium-low heat in a heavy saucepan or dutch oven, melt the butter until it begins to brown, shaking the pan every so often. Add the pumpkin puree and warm it through (it will sputter at first from all the water content). Fold in the marshmallows and stir until melted. Add the vanilla, pumpkin pie spice and salt, then remove from heat. Allow this mixture to cool to room temperature, about 25 minutes (otherwise, you'll have sad, soggy treats). Add the cereal and stir until combined. Silicone spatulas work really well for this. Press the mixture into your buttered pan and then pop it into the refrigerator until set. This helps to further avoid sogginess. Cut and enjoy.

**Note: if you're not into the whole waiting-until-room-temperature thing (I get it), omit the pumpkin puree all together and just use the vanilla/pumpkin pie spice/salt. You can stir the cereal into the melty marshmallow mixture immediately and not bother with the fridge.

xoxo
jolie

{book title photo from Buzzfeed}joeycakehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-26290173177472296982014-10-28T15:15:00.001-07:002014-10-30T16:06:09.956-07:00An Open Letter To My Pregnancy Body Pillow

Dear Pregnancy Body Pillow,

We had a rocky start. You were a hand-me-down, a second-class-citizen, cast aside by a good friend with a newborn. She was eager to return to belly-sleeping so you got the swift boot. I was a skeptic, set in my pre-pregnancy sleep ways but I had heard promising claims. I experimented with you in the glow of my first pre-natal weeks, before I truly needed you, and during our inaugural evening together I had the highest hopes. Unfortunately, we wound up wrestling until the wee morning hours when I kicked you out of my bed, and there you remained, coiled on the floor gathering dust until I reached the beginning of my third trimester.

It was then I got word about the dangers of back-sleeping (turns out the vena cava is not a wine bar), and my belly was becoming increasingly unwieldy. So I picked you up (that was no picnic with said belly), dusted you off (literally), and begrudgingly decided to give you a second chance. Annoyingly, you come not only with a C-curve, but a learning curve. It took me a full fortnight to get acquainted with your squirrely disposition. While you claim you'll bend to my will, I now see it's your way or the highway. You leave me merely two nighttime options: clutch you like a needy child latches onto the leg of his apologetic mother, or lean into you backwards the way a mangy dog demands back scratches. I simultaneously desire you and feel betrayed by your limitations, like a vibrator whose batteries are dying.

But here's the thing: I need you now. I can't do it without you. And I admit that I'm weak. My mother-friends have said,"Don't bother with the body pillow, just use a regular one between your legs," but it's no use. I want you between my legs, PBP. I hate myself for loving you.

Despite your ability to make side-sleeping slightly less horrible, you have copious liabilities. Yet I keep coming back to you like an aloof boyfriend or straight-across bangs. You're hot. Like polyester-blend hot. I wake up clammy and not without the type of skin irritations caused by synthetic fabrics. And getting out of you is a nightmare. Your looped ends trip up my already-compromised ability to move gracefully. Do you enjoy making me feel foolish twelve times a night when I'm forced to get up and pee? Do you?

And pray tell, where am I supposed to stash you in the daytime? If you stay inside the bed, I get small heart attacks every time I enter the bedroom, as my peripheral vision assumes you're a dead body. On top of the bed, you're a pathetic eyesore, a giant, curly pillow-turd that tarnishes my bedroom's minimalistic, non-turd design scheme. I have to hide you like a Real Housewives addiction or a penchant for high-caloric coffee drinks with extra whipped cream and caramel drizzle.

My husband calls you The Interloper. You literally come between us. And that night when he came back from the bathroom half-asleep and rubbed your spine for a full minute before realizing it wasn't his wife's? That didn't help your case. I had to stick up for you, PBP. And it made me feel sad and small. What have I become?

Hating that I can't quit you,
Jolie

{This letter was also published in the Huffington Post}joeycakehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-13185045913475603502014-10-18T10:25:00.000-07:002014-10-18T10:25:51.869-07:00roasted butternut squash soup

I downloaded an app on my phone that gives me daily pregnancy updates and this was yesterday's:

"Do your legs look like tree trunks? Swollen feet and ankles may not be sexy, but it's what most pregnant women are wearing in any given season. To reduce that puffy look, try to take a five-minute walk around your house or office at least once an hour. A quick dance works, too, and may take your mind off your fat feet, so crank up the tunes, Mama!"

Real nice, huh? Hey fatty! Never mind that yesterday I told you to put your feet up and get some rest. Quit being such a lazy ass. Get up and stretch those tree trunks!

As a pregnant woman you unwittingly enter the symptom lottery. I've been lucky enough to avoid cankles (*crosses fingers*) but have come upon my own fun set of pregnancy surprises. Among other unsavory things, bending over is officially over. At 29 weeks, this belly seriously gets in the way. I've developed a new soundtrack of moans and groans and umphs and arrrggghhs for getting out of bed or off the couch or to reach something low in the fridge. Forget about putting on socks or shaving any nether regions.

The hunger is also COLOSSAL. Like bottomless-pit yearnings that physically hurt, and a deep, fierce reverence for food and stuffing my face like a homeless dog. The other day while eating in a Panera, I dropped a potato chip on the floor and was faced with a dilemma of epic proportions. Until pregnancy, never would I consider eating something off the floor (in a Panera, no less). All my life I've been able and not willing and here I was completely game and yet incapacitated. Even had I attempted, and could've actually reached it, my pregnancy-onset clumsiness gave me no guarantees that I would be able to grasp it in the first eighteen tries.

Alas, I let the chip go. It was a real milestone in embracing my limitations. On the flip side, I could've asked my dining companion to reach it for me and that might have proven a great lesson in asking for help. And also choosing not to be affected by the sharp judgement of others for eating food off the questionable floor of a sub-par franchised sandwich restaurant.

Anyway.

This same mildly insulting and contradictory app gives me weekly updates on which fruit or vegetable matches the size of my baby's growth (a fig! a pear! as long as an ear of corn!) and had the balls to tell me my baby was the size of an eggplant for 3 weeks straight. I looked online to cross-reference and found mention of a butternut squash. So, in honor of his size at 29 weeks, I cooked something the size of my baby! (Let's pretend this is not awkward in the least.)

Roasted Butternut Squash Soup
adapted from Chow.com
serves 6-8

There's a bit of time involved here with the roasting but it makes for such a sweet richness in the final mix. Plus, there's no awkward peeling and dicing an unwieldy squash. Also: THIS SMELLS SO FREAKING GOOD WHILE IT'S COOKING THAT IT WILL TAUNT YOU WHETHER OR NOT YOU ARE GROWING A HUMAN.

2 medium butternut squash (buy about 4.5 pounds altogether)
4 T butter, divided
2 large granny smith apples, cored, peeled and diced
1/2 large yellow onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
10 fresh sage leaves
4 cups (1 quart) chicken broth
1-1/2 cups water
kosher salt
black pepper
freshly grated nutmeg to taste
cinnamon to taste
greek yogurt or extra virgin olive oil for serving (optional)

Preheat oven to 425F. Place each squash in the microwave (one at a time) for 2 minutes to soften, then cut in half longways and remove the seeds. Put all 4 halves on a rimmed baking sheet. Melt 1-1/2 T butter and brush it all over the flesh, then salt and pepper generously. Roast until knife tender, about 50 minutes. Meanwhile, in a large soup pot over medium heat, melt the remaining 2-1/2 T butter and sauté the apples, onion, garlic and sage until soft, 7-9 minutes, stirring occasionally. When the squash is cool enough to handle, scoop out the flesh (discard the skins) and add it to the apple mixture. Add the chicken stock, water and a good big pinch of salt and pepper. Bring the pot to a boil, partially cover it, and turn it down to a simmer for about 15-20 minutes, breaking up the squash with a spoon if there are any chunks. Blend with an immersion blender or in a regular blender in batches, taking care not to burn yourself! Return to the pot. Taste for salt. Start with 1/2 t nutmeg and 1 t cinnamon and add more to your liking. The salt and the spices at the end really bring everything together so make sure you add enough. Serve with a dollop of yogurt or a drizzle of olive oil.

Happy Autumn!
xoxo
joliejoeycakehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-34745206445130076862014-09-20T07:53:00.001-07:002014-09-20T07:56:51.852-07:00blueberry oatmeal muffins and a gripping story about curtain shopping

Part of my pregnancy-induced nesting mayhem this past week involved scouring Los Angeles for the perfect new bedroom curtains (natch). After doing loads of reconnaissance online and finally making a curtain decision, I called a Pottery Barn store near me to see what they had in stock. I got a busy signal around 19 times, so my giant belly and I decided to go and see for ourselves. When I got there I fought the urge to ask them if their phone was off the hook. Or if they had a teenaged employee hogging the line.

I bee-lined for the drapes, immediately found what I wanted, and was promptly greeted by a saleslady whose cheer was surprisingly impressive.

"Hi, hon! How can I help you?" She asked.

"Yeah, hi. I need two panels of the 96" white sheer linen drapes," I said, pointing to the drape display in case she didn't understand words.
Her face twisted like she smelled rotten garbage.

"Oooh. I think we're out of those. Want me to check for you?"

"Yes, please."
Using a metal cane, she hobbled out from behind the counter wearing a giant foot cast.

"I'll just go check in the back, hon. Give me a sec," she said.

"Step on it," I said.
She froze. The garbage face was back again, but this time much stinkier.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, God, no. I am so sorry. I was just kidding," I backpedaled. And then for good measure: "I hope your foot's okay."
She didn't crack a smile. This is when I became sure her cheer was false.

"I'll be right back," she grumbled.
At least 47 minutes elapsed. Then she slowly hobbled out from the storeroom and back to her counter.

"Just as I thought: we're out," she said.

"Shoot. How about another store close by?" I asked.
She stared and sighed. And then reluctantly clickety-clacked on her computer with her acrylics.

"Looks like the whole district's out," she said.

"That sounds serious," I said.
She didn't reply.

 "Well, can't I just order them online?" I asked.
More hostile clickety-clacking. If she got sick of Pottery Barn she'd make a great ticket agent at the airport.

"Nope. Says here the whole country's out," she said.

"What? The entire country is out of white sheer linen drapes?" I asked.

"'Fraid so," she said, the tiniest smile forming on her thin lips.
Just then, another customer sauntered up to counter to purchase some Halloween plates. She eyed Stink Face's bulky cast.

"Oof. Ouch! What'd you do? Break your ankle?" She asked, pointing to it.
Stinky was done. She sighed deeply and didn't attempt to hide her irritation.

"No," she snapped. "Just above the ankle."
Halloween Plates didn't take the hint. She pressed on.

"How the heck didja do that?"

"I slipped on my porch," said Stinky, stone faced.
Halloween Plates shook her head and whistled slowly.

"Been there, done that," she said, looking to me like haven't we all?
I didn't answer. There was a long pause while Stinky rang up Halloween Plates's Halloween plates.

"Well. Thanks anyway," I said as I backed toward the door. "Good luck with your foot."
Stinky gave me one more small stink eye. Then I nodded to Halloween Plates.

"And Happy Halloween."

No one will give you a stink face if you bake them these muffins. Warm baked goods pretty much guarantee zero stink faces. You can quote me on that.

Blueberry Oatmeal Yogurt Muffins
yields 12

Using yogurt helps keep these deliciously moist and adds a little tangy zip. Sprinkling turbinado sugar and a few oats on top before baking gives these babies some nice sweetness and texture. And feel free to use a mixture of berries instead--raspberries are particularly great. This is the perfect use for frozen fruit and you can just mix it in without thawing.

3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
2 t baking powder
1/4 t baking soda
1/2 t kosher salt
1 t ground cinnamon
1/4 t ground nutmeg
1 egg
6 T butter, melted
8 oz. plain yogurt (you can sub buttermilk here if you like)
1 cup fresh or frozen (don't thaw) blueberries or mixed berries
turbinado sugar and extra oats for sprinkling on top before baking (optional)

Preheat oven to 400F. Spray a muffin tin with cooking spray or line with paper liners. In a medium/large bowl, combine the first nine ingredients. Whisk together and set aside. In a separate bowl, lightly beat the egg. Add the yogurt and melted butter and mix well. Add the wet ingredients to the dry, stirring just until everything is incorporated. Scoop the batter into the tins, divvying it up for 12 muffins. Bake for 20 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Let the pan cool on a rack for 5-10 minutes and then remove the muffins, cooling another 20 minutes. Serve warm.

You can also bake muffins now and freeze them for later. Here's how.

Happy Weekend, loves!
xoxo
jolie

P.S. I'm not even a mother yet and I find this tumblr site to be amazingly funny:)joeycakehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-81063964451257112412014-09-09T17:23:00.001-07:002014-09-09T17:24:24.740-07:00a handful of thoughts from the mind of a preggo

Guys, this pregnancy is ON. Tomorrow I'll be six months along and there's no turning back. My auditions have tapered off to a slow drip of obscure roles for women who are either perpetually seated or attending baby showers.

It's a bit of a relief. I was going to these castings wearing one of the two super drape-y tops I own, sidestepping into the room and then holding my script in front of my belly. This worked surprisingly well for several weeks until I started noticing people's eyes flicker down almost imperceptibly to my bump, and I was convinced they believed me to have a rare disease whose horrible side effects include a giant torso goiter. Over time, all this goiter suspicion pushed me to come out to my agents. Now the cat is officially out of the bag, the drape-y tops have gone the way of the Dodo, and I'm currently designing a (tight) T-shirt that says "It's a baby, not a goiter!"

Perhaps because I have a bit more time on my hands now, the nesting effect has set in BIG TIME. I've been in this gotta-fix-the-house haze, trying to complete any possible task that I've been putting off for years (painting the baseboards! Changing the filter for the ice cube water!) or might need to happen in the next 9 months (eye exam! Teeth cleaning!). I realize it's the futile desire to control circumstances I can, so that when all hell breaks loose (aka newborn arrival), I'll be better equipped to handle it. Like if I have the most organized spice drawer and/or freshly painted and put-together linen closet, it'll somehow be easier to sleep only ten minutes a night and be drenched in spit-up. Even as I write this I see the ridiculousness of it and yet I still kinda believe it to be true. Anyway, it feels good to have a focus for all of my crazy life-will-soon-never-be-the-same energy, even if it's deciding on paint colors or learning about pile height in different types of rugs. I mean, there's only so many books on pregnancy, labor and swaddling a lady can absorb. Someone asked me recently if I'd thought about which parenting style I subscribed to and I realized I spend more time these days legitimately pondering the best chicken salad sandwich in Los Angeles (BTW, Food Lab FTW).

All this to say: one thing at a time, people. Whether it's paint colors, co-sleeping or chicken salad. One thing at a time.

Another thing that's been on my mind lately is that while I poke fun at all of this stuff and truly enjoy the humor in all of our (my) human experiences, pregnancy included, I've been in such appreciation and awe and joy at the miracle of all that is going on in my body and heart. It's heavenly. And I've been a little reluctant to effusively write about it because I'm so sensitive to the fertility-focused. I don't want to hurt the feelings of those who are yearning for this experience (as I was for SO long). I suppose it's impossible not to push buttons or have our buttons pushed by others around topics that we're super focused on. But we need to put our joy out there into the world and not stifle it, right? So: Here's to compassion. And to joy. And to expressing it with the best of intentions.

Hope you're having a wonderful week so far.

xoxo
jolie

P.S. Thank you again for all the well wishes and congratulations!

P.P.S. Do yourself a favor and do not ever google 'goiter'.joeycakehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-2657036794610387902014-08-20T10:06:00.000-07:002014-08-20T10:20:47.808-07:00quinoa muffins with chocolate, banana and coconut

A CONVERSATION BETWEEN ME AND AN IMAGINED AMALGAM OF ALL PERSONS WITH WHOM I'VE DISCUSSED MY PREGNANCY SO FAR

AMALGAM: CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ME: Thank you so much! I'm truly thrilled. David and I are so excited.

AMALGAM: How are you feeling?!

ME: Great!

AMALGAM: You're so chubby already!

ME: Excuse me?

AMALGAM: Wow--I didn't pop that much until 25 weeks AT LEAST. Here, let me show you a picture.

ME: …Oh. Yeah, you looked great.

AMALGAM: How are you feeling?

ME: A-Ok!

AMALGAM: Did you get sick at all?

ME: Nope. I was really lucky that way.

AMALGAM: Do you know what you're having?

ME: A human!

AMALGAM: No, silly. I mean a boy? Or a girl?

ME: A boy.

AMALGAM: Oh! How fun! Boys are AMAZING. *Whispers* SOOOOO much easier than girls.

ME: Bonus!

AMALGAM: How are you feeling?

ME: Super!

AMALGAM: When was the first day of your last period?

ME: What now?

AMALGAM: Do you know the day you conceived? Like the exact day you guys did it?

ME: Um. Well, there was a range of days in there.

AMALGAM: How are you feeling?

ME: Awesome!

AMALGAM: Was your pregnancy planned?

ME: I don't even know your last name and I just met you.

AMALGAM: I just thought maybe you've been trying forEVER and so you're really relieved you're FINALLY pregnant.

ME: Again, I've never seen you before five minutes ago.

AMALGAM: Turn around.

ME: Hmm?

AMALGAM: Do a 360, Lady! Nice! I'll bet your husband likes that extra back there. More to grab onto. Ha ha ha!

ME: I hope you're right?

AMALGAM: How are you feeling?

ME: Tip-top!

AMALGAM: Wait: how far along are you?

ME: 21 weeks.

AMALGAM: Wow, you still look amazing.

ME: Still?

AMALGAM: Any names picked out?

ME: Believe it or not, I think we've got him named already.

AMALGAM: ….WELL????

ME: We're not really telling anyone the name.

AMALGAM: What? Why the hell not?

ME: We've decided to keep it under wraps until he's born.

AMALGAM: You can tell ME though, right? I won't tell anyone.

ME: We're gonna keep it a secret for now.

AMALGAM: Boo! Tell me the name!!!

ME: Sorry.

AMALGAM: *Pouts awkwardly*

ME: …

AMALGAM: You feel good?

ME: Yep!

AMALGAM: You pooping?

ME: …That's…wow…

AMALGAM: Are you guys gonna have another one?

ME: …I think we'll start with the one.

AMALGAM: It'd be great if you could have a girl next.

ME: I'll see what I can do.

AMALGAM: You might wanna get on that though, if you know what I mean.

ME: …

AMALGAM: Tick tock…*repeatedly pokes at wrist*

ME: I actually knew what you meant.

AMALGAM: Are you planning on natural childbirth? You HAVE to have a natural childbirth.

ME: It'd be awesome if it unfolded that way.

AMALGAM: Oh, just get the epidural, honey.

ME: …Ok...

AMALGAM: You HAVE to meet my doula! She's amazing.

ME: …Ok…

AMALGAM: And make sure you have your birth plan in order.

ME: …Ok...

AMALGAM: Did you know baby doctors secretly hate birth plans? They totally judge you for them. Just show up and roll with the punches.

ME: …Ok…

AMALGAM: How are you feeling?

ME: Like making muffins alone with my baby.

Quinoa Muffins with Chocolate, Banana, and Coconut
makes about 12

These took some trial and error to get right but were so worth the tinkering. They take a bit of planning (black bananas, leftover quinoa) but man, they are crazy delicious. I'm certain the quinoa and chocolate cancel each other out.

3/4 cup whole wheat flour
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 t salt
1/2 t baking soda
1/2 t baking powder
1 stick (1/2 cup) butter, at room temperature
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 super ripe (read: black) bananas, mashed with a fork
2 eggs
1 t vanilla
1/2 cup unsweetened shredded coconut
1 cup cooked quinoa (this is about 1/3 dry)
1 cup chopped bittersweet chocolate (or chocolate chips)
turbinado sugar (Sugar-In-The-Raw) for sprinkling (optional)

Preheat oven to 400F and paper or grease a muffin tin. In a medium bowl, combine the flours, salt, baking soda and baking powder. Whisk well and set aside. In an electric mixer, cream the butter and the sugar until light and fluffy. Add the bananas and the eggs, mixing and scraping down the sides after each addition. Add the dry ingredient mixture a bit at a time, mixing until just combined. Stir in the coconut, quinoa and chocolate. Use an ice cream scoop to drop the batter into your muffin tins. Sprinkle with turbinado sugar and bake for 20ish minutes or until the tops are golden and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Serve warm for optimal deliciousness.

(Did you know you can also make a batch of these and freeze them? Bake muffins and cool completely. Then place them in a plastic freezer bag, squeezing as much of the air out as possible. When you're ready for a muffin, preheat oven to 350F, pop a muffin or two into a muffin tin and bake/warm until heated through.)

xoxo
jolie

P.S. THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the kind words and congratulations! I am so blown away by all the support and love and I feel it ALL. You guys are the best ever. Giant hugs and love to you……………xojoeycakehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-78178726954054035652014-08-14T17:14:00.001-07:002014-10-30T08:50:14.760-07:00a little bit of gigantic news

Well, what do you know? In the best turn of events ever, I am pregnant. Miracle-style, after four years of trying and all we've been through, we were days (moments?) away from beginning an overwhelming, invasive, extensive, expensive hormone protocol for IVF and I got knocked up naturally the cycle before.

It really took me some time to wrap my head around it. For a while, I was in this surreal limbo. I had to keep reminding myself that I was Pregnant(!!) and also not Not Pregnant. There was a ton of momentum in that Not Pregnant story. And then poof! That story was finished. It shifted my perspective on all the other areas in my life where I've felt stuck. It ignited my faith in a visceral way that I've never experienced. Things can feel for so long like they're never gonna change and then one day, before your very eyes, they do. And then you gotta go get yourself a new story.

It was two days after I found out about my pregnancy that we learned about Lena's cancer and within two more weeks she was gone. The timing was not lost on me. It was like she waited until we had this imminent new love before she chose to make her transition. My tag-team beloveds: one coming, one going. And as tumultuous as it was during that time, having new life inside me and this upcoming adventure to anticipate was a blessing of a diversion from my pain over losing our sweet Lena girl.

As if my heart wasn't open before, now it's a wide-receiver. The littlest things touch me and bring me to instant tears. It's like the nail salon post times a million. I have so much to say about all of my experience so far but for now, I think I'll just leave it here. Except to say thank you so much for all of your support and love that were part of getting me to this now moment. Now: pass the kleenex, would you?

xoxoxo

jolie

"Faith is a place of mystery, where we find the courage to believe in what we cannot see and the strength to let go of our fear of uncertainty." -Brené Brown

P.S. Keeping in line with new beginnings, our baby BOY is due to arrive New Year's Day, 2015:)

joeycakehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-80632529512849965232014-08-11T08:46:00.001-07:002014-08-11T08:46:32.314-07:00yes!Being a huge Jason Mraz fan, I entered to win free tickets to a secret concert he was giving that was being taped for The Artists Den, a PBS live-concert television show, to promote his new album, YES! I never do stuff like that, so when I won two tickets, I was gobsmacked. We arrived early to stand in a gigantic, snaking will-call line (the top-secret location turned out to be the beautiful Royce Hall on the UCLA campus) and I was so thrilled to be there that I wasn't even bothered by the girl behind us lecturing her companion on the perils of dairy for a solid hour. When we finally got to the front, a guy checked a list, handed us two tickets, and by the grace of the Jason Mraz gods, we were seated IN THE FOURTH ROW!

Needless to say, I was in heaven.

And we had the most fun, special night:)

The concert is airing on PBS stations this week so we just caught the televised version and saw our happy mugs on TV!

Hope you have a wonderful week...
xoxo
jolie

P.S. You are loved:)

P.P.S. My other fave, Sara Bareilles, is writing a musical version of the film Waitress(!) and this is her singing a new song from the show…….*swoon*joeycakehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-60857235485228777172014-07-30T09:53:00.000-07:002014-07-30T10:30:46.507-07:00baked zucchini fries

Hello darling people:)

We just returned from a decadent week-long Colorado mountain vacation. It felt so nourishing to be in that crisp mountain air and see such blue blues and green greens. And the trees! And the meadows! And the clouds! (Oh, how I wish Los Angeles could get itself some dreamy, cottony clouds. Can someone get on that?)

So now we're back to reality and business-as-usual. Case in point: DP and I said a teary goodbye to the gargantuan king size hotel bed and are back to slumming it in our queen. Last night I woke up in a panic when my foot ventured out .0001 millimeters from my side and hit a husband.

We're also (sniff, sob) back to not eating french fries every day. Which is a travesty.

I was Lutheran for a few childhood years (long story) and when I was 7 or 8, our church sponsored a Cambodian family of refugees who had escaped horrible conditions in their country. Somehow they wound up in Boulder, Colorado to attend our little church and I remember our family having a handful of social interactions with them. Once, we introduced them to McDonald's to show them how Americans eat (have you ever?). I will never forget the pained looks on their faces while they inspected and gingerly tried the food, trying to be polite. It was SO foreign to them and so small-minded of us to not only let fast food represent an entire country's cuisine, but assume they would be delighted by it. As a little girl, I remember showing the kids how to dip a french fry into a pile of delicious ketchup while they looked at me like I had three heads. Politely, they followed my lead and proceeded to hate it. One of them had to spit it out in a napkin. And as a 7 year old I could not wrap my head around the notion that a.) someone had never tried a fry with ketchup before and b.) they didn't like it.

That experience is so burned into my memory that I pretty much think of it every time I dip a french fry into ketchup. And seeing how many fries I ate last week, it's like that Cambodian family was right there on vacation with me.

So, okay. These baked zucchini fries aren't truffle-laden or even potato-laden but trust me when I say: they are seriously good. I think even new-to-the-USA Cambodians would like them.

Bonus: they smell SO good while baking--Like a pizza scratch-n-sniff sticker. Another thing that would be really odd to explain to Cambodian refugees. But you guys get it. I know you do.

Baked Zucchini Fries
serves 2-3

2 medium zucchini
2 eggs
juice of half a lemon
black pepper
1/4 t kosher salt
3/4 cup panko bread crumbs (FYI: here is a great gluten-free version)
1 T flax meal (ground flax seeds)
heaping 1/3 cup grated parmesan
1 T salt-free Italian seasoning (like Trader Joe's 21 Seasoning Salute)

Preheat your oven to 425F. Line a baking sheet with foil, drizzle with olive oil and smear it around evenly. Trim the zukes, cut them into fry-size wedges and salt them generously. Set aside. In one shallow bowl, beat the eggs and add the lemon juice, a heavy dose of black pepper and 1/4 t salt. In a different shallow bowl, mix the bread crumbs, flax, parmesan and seasoning. In assembly-line fashion, dip the zucchini wedges first into the egg mixture, next into the bread crumbs, then onto the baking sheet. Bake for 15 minutes (no need to turn them) until golden brown. Taste for salt and then serve immediately with ranch dressing or warm marinara. (OR KETCHUP!:))

xoox
jolie

P.S. Shout out to the Cambodian readers of Joeycake!joeycakehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-76107607135019999472014-06-20T09:22:00.000-07:002014-06-20T09:22:47.640-07:00chocolate coconut granola

I had a lovely, sunny hour to kill between auditions yesterday and decided to treat myself to lunch outside since it was such a glorious day. The restaurant I chose had a lively and full patio and my sandwich and I parked at the only open spot: smack next to a table of two women having the most LA of LA conversations. Look, I am an LA woman and I cop to having LA conversations about gluten and psychics, but I do it with a full-on awareness of how LA I'm being (here's hoping).

The one who held court was brunette. She was tall and willowy and wore a straw cowboy hat. A bandana was tied around her neck and she had lots of beads on her person. Her blonde companion was petite. She leaned forward on her miniature elbows and her small frame was engulfed in a billowy, puffy shirt. Between them sat a cheese plate that they picked at. Which surprised me because dairy.

"I find myself barefoot a lot in my house and around my garden," Bandana said. "I find it really helps me connect to the earth."
Puffy Shirt folded her legs underneath her on the chair. She squinted thoughtfully at her companion and gave a slow nod.

"I'm sure it's because of my heritage," said Bandana.

"What's your heritage?" asked Puffy.

"'What isn't my heritage?' is a better question."
Bandana launched into a several-minute soliloquy about the copious Indian tribes she had a percentage in. Choctaw Nation was dropped multiple times. She then moved on to pontificate about her Great Great Grandfather's connection to other native peoples. Puffy never interjected, she just let Bandana go on and on. I actually half-expected Puffy to have nodded off, but when I snuck a glance, she seemed as riveted as me. Although possibly for different reasons.

My peripheral vision was killing me so I turned my attention back to my sandwich and took a few bites. Just then, Puffy leaned down to pet her service dog, a little weasel with brown eye gunk who didn't seem to be servicing much more than the restaurant's floor. Bandana clocked this.

"You have to meet Mr. Adzuki Bean," said Bandana.

"Who's that?" Puffy asked.
I was hoping it was one of her ancestors.

"My dog," said Bandana as she swiped her phone, finding the right photo to share.

"Aw, he is adorable."
Puffy leaned in to get a better look.

"He's just a tiny little chihuahua but he has a giant spirit," said Bandana, fingering her beads.

"I can see that."
Huh?

"He's been here before," said Bandana, evenly.

"Oh, to [super delicious gourmet LA lunch spot]?" Puffy asked.
Bandana chucked ever so slightly.

"No. He's been on this planet before. He's an old soul."
Puffy looked genuinely interested. She stood corrected.

"His eyes are the color of topaz."

"They sure are."
Obviously, I could've sat there all day but my sandwich was gone and I had to go pretend to need psoriasis medicine at my next audition. But I will say this:

You're welcome.

How about a super-LA snack, coated in a superfood? It's like, so LA. Bonus: legend has it, granola was a staple of the Choctaw Nation.*

Chocolate Coconut Granola
yields about 7 cups

This is great on plain yogurt, ice cream, or just eaten by the fistfuls. Feel free to tinker with the amount of maple syrup if you like it more or less sweet. And you really can use any nuts you like, these are just my faves.

4 cups rolled oats
1 cup unsweetened coconut
2/3 cup sliced or chopped almonds
2/3 cup walnut pieces (these can be halved or chopped)
1 t cinnamon
1/2 t kosher salt
1/3 cup coconut oil
2/3 cup maple syrup (or honey)
1 t vanilla
1/2 cup raw cacao powder

Preheat oven to 300F. In a large bowl, stir together the oats, coconut, nuts, cinnamon and salt. Mix well and set aside. In a small saucepan over low heat, add the oil, maple syrup and vanilla. Melt together and stir well. Add the cacao and whisk until incorporated. Pour this wet mixture over the dry ingredients and stir stir stir until well mixed. Spread onto a rimmed baking sheet and bake for 60-70 minutes, stirring every 15 minutes or so, until toasty and golden. Cool on the baking sheet.

xoxo
jolie

*I lied. But here are some actual traditional Choctaw recipes  if you're feeling inspired.

joeycakehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-32957105935983514222014-06-06T08:52:00.001-07:002014-06-06T08:52:30.571-07:00strawberry yogurt pancakes

Guys! It's National Donut Day! And I just heard that Krispy Kreme is giving away FREE DONUTS! Here's how I look at this awesome opportunity: if you opt for pancakes today instead, you're taking the high, healthy road. (No matter that pancakes are also basically fried pieces of dough.) These puppies even have real strawberries and yogurt so you get extra healthy points!

If anyone needs more healthy points it's me. I've been doing some serious carb/sugar loading lately. I even had a dream last night that I was in a fancy bakery. I was in my sweaty workout clothes, perusing the store, when the owner came up to me. She had a bag in her hand.

"I'd love to give you this bag of fresh cookies," she said, "but on one condition."

"Okay," I said, intrigued. She ushered me over to an unmarked door and opened it to reveal a full spa bathroom. In the bakery.

"You need to take a shower," she said, "And if you do, I'll give you the cookies." She set them down next to the sink.

 "Sounds like a deal!" I said. Then I waited for her to beat it before grabbing the cookies and leaving without holding up my end of the bargain.

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN???????

That I need to shower more frequently? That I'm a liar? That I can have my (pan)cake and eat it (a donut) too?

You guys ponder this while I head over to Krispy Kreme.

Strawberry Yogurt Pancakes
makes about 12 3" cakes
inspired by Smitten Kitchen

These super fluffy little cakes are super delicious. And the yogurt is a perfect substitute for buttermilk. Who has buttermilk lying around anyway? I prefer non-Greek yogurt for this recipe but you can absolutely use it. It'll just give your cakes a bit more zippy tang.

1/2 cup whole wheat flour
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 T sugar
1 T plus 1 t baking powder
1/2 t salt
2 eggs
1 cup plain yogurt
2 T milk, maybe 1-2 T more--see note below
4 T butter, melted and cooled slightly
1/2 t lemon zest
1/2 t vanilla extract
1 heaping cup sliced strawberries
extra butter or coconut oil for the pan
maple syrup for serving

In a large bowl, mix together all the dry ingredients: flours, sugar, baking powder, salt. Whisk well to combine. In a separate, medium bowl, whisk the eggs and then add the yogurt, mixing well. Whisk in 2T milk, butter, lemon zest, and vanilla. Add the wet ingredients to the dry, and stir until just combined, taking care not to over mix. (If you used Greek yogurt, the batter may feel a little thick. Add 1-2T more milk to loosen it up a bit.)

Preheat a cast-iron or non-stick skillet over medium heat. Add 1-2 teaspoons oil or butter to the hot pan and ladle about 1/4 cup batter for each pancake, spacing them out slightly. Press a few sliced berries into each pancake, flattening the cakes out a little as you do this. Cook a few minutes, adjusting the heat as necessary and flip when golden brown on the bottom. Cook 3-4 minutes more on the other side. Serve immediately with maple syrup or keep warm on a rack in a 200F oven.

xoxo
jolie

P.S. Orange Is The New Black season two is released today!! Celebrate with some orange food:)joeycakehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-56582707466520288642014-05-29T10:42:00.000-07:002014-05-29T10:45:53.722-07:00baby cormac's quilt

One of my dearest lady friends, Susan, had her first baby last week (!!) and good thing she did since I made her this little quilt specifically for that reason. It's another one of my friend Alicia's from her Olallieberry pattern and I highly recommend it for beginners. I originally tied it a different way and after washing it, most of the ties untied:/ (Dreadful horrors!) So I texted Alicia a picture of the debacle and said WTF did I do wrong? And she wrote me back this longest text asking me if I buried the tail and hid the knot and a bunch of other stuff that sounded like Japanese. So I asked her if she spoke English. And then (because she's amazing), she made me an instructional video of her sewing these cutest embroidery-floss stars. Not only did they work, they look so so so much cuter than my original plan. I have the nicest, most generous crafty friend. You gotta check out her site if you haven't. I love her. (Thanks, Alicia!!!)

I hope you find a way to be creative today, even just a tiny bit.
xoxo
jolie

P.S. My favorite part is picking out the fabric:

joeycakehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-1163376649653103812014-05-21T18:24:00.000-07:002014-05-21T18:24:54.548-07:00breakfast pasta (for any time of day)

Oh guys. Thank you a million times over for all your love and support. I am so touched by the compassion and kindness shown not only by my friends and family, but by acquaintances and even strangers. It's so dear to me that Lena was loved even by those who only knew her silly, sweet personality through pictures and stories. Anyway, it has certainly been a hard one over here and I appreciate it with all my heart.

Even though my grief still catches me off guard, I feel like we've gotten through the worst of it. And the cooler temperatures have helped in the relief. It was so oppressively hot here last week. In the movies it's always the rain that is the saddest, but I'd make a strong case for sweltering 100 degree days. They make you feel heavy all over. And they force you to be inside and go slow and turn inward not unlike the rain. I was holed up letting the a/c blow on me while David went on a camping trip that had been planned for months. The house was eerily quiet. You don't realize how accustomed you get to dear little dog sounds until they're gone: sleepy sighs and moans, nails clickety-clacking on the hardwood, squirrel-chase dream sequences.

This week, the super still house has been replaced with all sorts of noise and banging while we have repairs done on our roof. It sounds like we're under attack by giants. My bathroom window has no curtains since it's on the second storey and only faces trees. Today, without thinking, I walked in there naked, only to see feet standing on a ladder outside. Nothing like hitting the deck in your own home. I didn't know I could move so fast.

I think we can all agree that comfort food is in order. Bonus: apparently carbs help replenish energy stores depleted by fear of roof workers glimpsing one's boobs.

xoxo
jolie

Breakfast Pasta
adapted from Hugo's Pasta Mama
serves 2 generously

There is a killer healthy restaurant here in LA called Hugo's that is one of my favorites. They have these pasta dishes with eggs that are the ultimate. I hope you enjoy my tweaked version. See the bottom for some ideas to make it your own.

10oz dry spaghetti (I used brown rice pasta but any will do)
2T olive oil
2 medium cloves garlic, minced
2 t salt-free seasoning mix such as Trader Joe's 21 Seasoning Salute
1/3 cup chopped parsley
pinch kosher salt
1/2 cup grated parmesan
4 eggs, beaten
lots of black pepper
salt to taste

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook the pasta according to the directions on the package, reserving 2T of the hot cooking water before draining. In a large skillet over medium heat, add the olive oil. Sauté the garlic and seasoning mix for 2 minutes, taking care not to burn the garlic. Add the parsley, a pinch of kosher salt, then the hot pasta and pasta water. Toss it all together, mixing well. Add the eggs and cheese and stir fast and well until mixed and cooked through. Taste for salt. Serve immediately with extra cheese on top. Optional add-ins include red pepper flakes, broccoli, arugula, bacon, pancetta, sausage and/or chicken. Whatever gives you comfort:)

P.S. Thanks again for all the love...joeycakehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-72099137689025662012014-05-13T07:26:00.000-07:002014-05-21T09:23:37.505-07:00lena pagani 2001-2014

With an aching heart and a soggy face, I am beyond saddened to tell you that yesterday afternoon, at home, sweet Lena died in our arms. I still can't believe how quickly it all went down. We got her cancer diagnosis less than two weeks ago and ever since, she went continuously, briskly downhill. After hospitalizing her overnight this week for some fluids and meds, she seemed momentarily better but then stopped eating altogether and just lie there, trembling and having trouble breathing. It was heartbreaking. So we made the decision to help her transition. It was the sweetest and saddest thing I've ever done in my whole life.

I prayed and prayed for her to go in her sleep these last few days. I whispered to her that she didn't need to stay for us, that we would be okay. But being present that moment she took her last breath, surrounded by home and love and kisses and words of gratitude, and the kindest home-euthanasia vet, we got to be there to help her (and us, for that matter) create a graceful completion of her beautiful life. And as hard as it was, she gave us that gift. I'm so glad I got to shepherd her to that edge. She only had to do the very last part of it alone. And then she was free.

"To love someone fiercely, to believe in something with your whole heart, to celebrate a fleeting moment in time, to fully engage in a life that doesn't come with guarantees--these are risks that involve vulnerability and often pain. But I'm learning that recognizing and leaning into the discomfort of vulnerability teaches us how to live with joy, gratitude, and grace."

-Brene Brown

"…(s)he will be our friend for always and always and always."

-Rudyard Kiplingjoeycakehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-70741326027228331382014-05-05T08:05:00.000-07:002014-05-05T08:05:33.876-07:00flourless chocolate cookies

This week has been a Whirl. Wind. After three vet visits, an abundance of assorted tests, and a couple thousand dollars, we found out yesterday that our sweet Lena girl has cancer. We have seen evidence of her age lately but it made us scared when she pretty much stopped eating these last couple weeks. Ugh. So now, post-vet, we have a lot of sad information and a lot of decisions to make. In good news, we are now armed with some drugs to ease her nausea and help her appetite, so she's slowly, gingerly eating and getting a little of her energy back. She mostly still has her bright eyes and spirit but this morning as she rested she just looked depressed. I tested out all her favorite words (ball, walk, cookie) and didn't get any perk out of her. It broke my heart. But then a little while later, David and I took her to the park and felt so happy to see her walk about and sniff around and even smile a little. She found a dirty shard of a tennis ball in a pile of leaves that she wanted us to throw for her and it was the best sign we've seen in a while. So now we're in this little limbo: kissing on her as much as humanly possible while we treat her symptoms and figure out our options. It's a roller coaster of sadness and denial and cookies. I'm enjoying the denial. And the cookies.

Why do the cookies help so much?

Love to you,
Jolie*

*has the nerve to (perhaps inappropriately) work dog cancer into cookie-recipe blog posts
------------------------------------------

Flourless Chocolate Cookies
yields about 30

Have you had the flourless chewy chocolate cookies from Starbucks? They are so crazy good with their crunchy exterior and chewy interior. And super chocolatey-ness. This is my attempt at recreating them. I dare you to try and eat just one. No matter how many you eat, I bet they make you feel better:)

2 1/4 cups powdered sugar
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder (either dutch-processed or not. DP will give you that dark oreo-cookie chocolate flavor. Both are delicious)
1/2 t kosher salt
3 egg whites, very lightly beaten (until just a little frothy on top)
1 t vanilla
1 cup walnut halves, toasted and finely chopped
3/4 cup chopped best-quality dark chocolate or chocolate chips

Line a cookie sheet with parchment and preheat oven to 350F. In a medium bowl, whisk together the sugar, cocoa and salt. Ditch the whisk. Stir in the egg whites with a spoon or fork. This will seem futile in the beginning but trust me, just keep gently stirring and it will all come together. Add the vanilla and then fold in the nuts and chopped chocolate. The dough will be like thick brownie batter. Drop by tablespoonfuls (this is important--you don't want these too big or they're hard to remove from the parchment), 2" apart and bake for 13-14 minutes. You want them shiny and cracked on top. Remove from the oven and let cool COMPLETELY before attempting to remove them from the parchment. You can slide the parchment paper onto a rack so they cool faster but this is not necessary. Use a spatula or gently peel them off the paper with your fingers.

joeycakehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-61155381741555744212014-04-22T10:24:00.000-07:002014-04-24T17:24:37.800-07:00chinese foot massage 101: it'll knock you off your feet

{this article also appears in the Huffington Post}

I must be a glutton for punishment. Not only do I frequent the Korean Spa, I often spring for cheap, sub-par treatments at Chinese Foot Massage places. While I'm lying there suffering, I wonder why I had amnesia concerning the torture I endured the last time around. Probably because they cost 25 bucks.

The place near me offers a sixty minute combo that, along with the foot reflexology, includes a full-body massage. The treatments all take place in a giant, dimmed room lined with rows of La-Z-Boy-style recliners. So you're all in it together (and fully clothed). This is just fine and poses zero issues unless one of the following (likely) disturbances occurs:

-coughing

-snoring

-farting

-clueless patrons using their outside voices

-massage therapists answering personal cellphones

-your husband giggling uncontrollably at the pan-flute rendition of any Elton John song

-they are simultaneously holding a meet-up for beginning jugglers

It's worth noting that these no-pain-no-gain treatments are strictly choreographed. There is no deviation from the routine. For example, try asking them to go easy on your sacrum and you'll be met with a blank-eyed stare and confused nod. Or try stopping a therapist mid-move ("Ooh! Too hard! That hurts!") and your protest will likely elicit laughter. Followed by firmer pressure.

The start of the session requires you to sit and drape your upper body over two pillows placed in your lap. These pillows look plush and fluffy until you put any pressure on them whatsoever, at which point they offer the support of a tortilla. So essentially, you're laying your belly on two tortillas while your back gets pummeled by a couple of pointy Chinese elbows. While there is massage happening, there is tremendous personal effort being spent to remain upright. And avoid pulling something. This is a real treat for the nervous system. The signature moves used by therapists in this portion of the hour include:

-Twist And Shout

-You Gotta Lotta Nerves

-Spinal Tap

-Digging For Clues

-沃爾坎火山死亡夾子**

(**The Vulcan Death Grip)

When you do get to finally enjoy the thrill of prostration, they swaddle you in a scratchy towel and proceed to work their way down your body. Starting with your head and face, you'll enjoy:

-Say Goodbye To Your Blowout

-Lice Ain't Nice

-Smell My Fingers

-Human Q-Tip

-You Look Better With Dimples

Next, they traverse the arms and legs where you'll experience such popular moves as:

-Whack-A-Mole (the skin lesion, not the subterranean mammal)

-Thigh-Master And Servant

-Knee-Deep In My Full Body Weight

-One Hand Tied Behind Your Back

-I Work My Fingers To Your Bones

After this routine, your entire head is smothered with a towel, Guantanamo-style, in preparation for the anticipated denouement. About now, you may be wondering why all these establishments have "Foot" in their name and yet the foot-rubbing portion only lasts one-fifth of the hour. Not to worry, you'll only ponder this for mere moments before your tattered nervous system shuts down, rendering you temporarily unconscious. Hence, there is no recorded history of any foot massage being administered to any person at any Foot Massage Place. Ever. Legend has it, this is the time when the therapists practice their juggling.joeycakehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-54050316985478154832014-04-11T17:33:00.000-07:002014-08-16T18:08:32.621-07:00brown butter banana bread with bourbon and walnuts

Hello Lovelies.

Firstly, a heart-felt thank you for all the support following my last post. I did not expect the giant outpouring of love that I received. It touched me so much. I can't believe how many friends, friends-of-friends, and people I don't even know reached out to share how they're dealing with (or have dealt with) fertility stuff. We all cope in silence to some degree (on all fronts, not just when baby-making) and yet this week reminded me how interconnected we truly are. Here's to remembering that when we need it the most.

This week has been a whirlwind of life: doctor's appointments, errand running, tax preparation, external hard drive set-up, auditions, soup making, quilt making, car washing, wine drinking, dog hugs, coffee with friends, hikes, laughs, Pilates classes, pottery classes, teaching, and as many Game of Thrones episodes I could stay awake for. In the middle of it all, I had a TV appearance that amounted to maybe 7 whole seconds of screen time.

Eight months ago when I shot the thing, I had one of the most fun days I've ever had on set. I played a trashy, horrible girl from Queens who had bad hair, nazi tattoos and fake teeth. I was just in one scene but man, I had a blast. I laughed all day with the cast and crew and desperately tried not to laugh when the scene called for me to remove my fake teeth, take after take. (Trust me, that was very difficult.) So when it aired this week and the entire scene was cut down to 7 seconds (and zero dialogue), it stung. Not only was my ego bruised, but it felt like an insult to my experience, like it meant less. I wanted to tell everyone how awesome it had been and how I had a whole scene originally and how fulfilling it was to shoot. I wanted it to look as funny and wonderful and special as it felt to me that day. And it didn't. It looked like 7 seconds.

Needless to say, it was (yet another) lesson in letting go of what others think (truth: they're not really thinking about it). I have to let the feeling of my experience be the representation of it. Not some external, diminished version that a million TV executives had their hands in. I can't control any of that, nor is it personal.

Ironically, if I *don't* let it go, I'm diminishing my own life this week by making it only about 7 seconds on TV, instead of all the other blessings and wonderful things that went down. Like dog hugs and belly laughs and couch time with DP. And all the love and support I feel from so many of you. Also: banana bread. Banana bread went down. And nobody puts banana bread in a corner.

Brown Butter Banana Bread With Bourbon and Walnuts
makes 1 loaf

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
2 cups all-purpose (or gluten free flour + 1/4 t xanthan gum)
1 t baking soda
1/2 t baking powder
1 t cinnamon
1 t kosher salt
2 large eggs
3 large (or 4 small) really ripe bananas, smashed
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
1/4 cup bourbon whiskey
1 t vanilla extract
1/3 cup sour cream
1 cup chopped walnuts, divided

Preheat oven to 350F and grease a loaf pan. Brown the butter (great tutorial here). Pour into a separate bowl to avoid burning and set aside to cool. In a large bowl, combine the flour, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon and salt. Whisk well and then add the brown sugar, whisking again. In a separate medium bowl, whisk the eggs. Then add the mashed bananas, sour cream, whiskey and vanilla and cooled butter. Mix well. Fold the wet ingredients into the dry until everything is just combined and then fold in 3/4 cup of the nuts, being careful not to over mix. Spread into prepared loaf pan, sprinkle the top with remaining 1/4 cup nuts, and (depending on your oven) bake about 45-60 minutes, or until a tester inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool in the loaf pan for 20 minutes and then turn out onto a rack to cool completely. Bonus points: serve with bourbon-spiked whipped cream!

xoxo
jolie

P.S. Do you guys get these daily Notes From The Universe emails? They are wonderful. Case in point:

Everything in your life right now is awesome. Everything is in its right place, under grace, and whether or not this makes perfect sense yet, one day it will. And the time swiftly approaches when you'll be exceedingly grateful for all that has brought you to this day and contributed to who you've become, because it is exactly that person who is now poised to live as you have always dreamed you would one day live.

Beautiful and apropos, no?

P.P.S. If you like Game of Thrones and also goats ---------------> you'll enjoy this.joeycakehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-13519563382155796142014-03-30T12:54:00.000-07:002014-04-11T10:13:55.074-07:00how my fifth-grade self helped me on my fertility quest

{This article also appears in The Huffington Post}

One night while David and I were watching the Olympics, my memory was jogged by the name of a Chinese ski jumper. I had all but forgotten that in the fifth grade, I was cast as the title role in Ah Wing Fu and the Golden Dragon, a children's play adapted from an ancient Asian folk tale. In the story, Ah Wing Fu becomes bored with life and goes out into the world to seek truth and beauty. At the end of the story and as a result of this quest, Ah Wing transforms into a beautiful butterfly. One thing you should know: Ah Wing Fu was an old Chinese man.

This news did not go over too well with fifth-grade me. There was another school play being cast about a group of exotic animals and I had my sights set on the cute little kangaroo. What little girl dreams of becoming a disgruntled Chinese man? That was NOT why I got into the theatre. I pouted for a day or two but rallied remarkably quickly. I don't know if it was naiveté or some deep-seeded knowing that The Show Must Go On, but I climbed on board. And even managed to have fun.

It didn't hurt that my ingeniously crafty Grandma made me a fabulous costume. She MacGyvered a red satin coat so that when I stuck my hands into the pockets, I could pull out these giant, flowing butterfly wings. They were magic. Along with my coat, I wore old-age makeup and a long black wig that was combed into a single fat braid. I may have also sported a man-voice complete with Chinese accent. I'm a little horrified to imagine my little-girl-self doing this but I think she fully went for it. (I've blocked that part out and maybe it's for the best.)

All these Ah Wing Fu flashbacks got me thinking about how we're full of big ideas on how things "should" go and hell if they ever truly go that way. They pretty much always go places that feel way off course.

Case in point:

I've always imagined having kids. And I always thought that when I was ready to be a mother, it would happen in a snap. Especially after years of panicky sex with boyfriends during which I was thoroughly convinced I'd get knocked up. That thought was unfathomable--I had way too much to do before becoming a parent. I eventually married a man who shared the same feeling so we enjoyed our life together and didn't give it a second thought until, a decade into our marriage, we felt ready. We excitedly began trying and nothing happened. Well, something happened: I couldn't get pregnant.

Over these last four years, my baby quest has led me to gynecologists and reproductive specialists and endocrinologists. It's led me to fertility hypnotherapists (I know) and internet articles entitled Cervical Mucus and You (for reals). It's led me to write journals, read infertility books and see psychics, nutritionists, acupuncturists and kinesiologists. It's led me to painfully uncomfortable probes and procedures and way too many people peeping into my vagina (and my spirit-vagina) than I care to count. It's led me to arduous baby showers and forced smiles when I'm told by yet another friend she's with child ("We weren't even trying!").

I've learned (the hard way) that the best answer to "Do you have kids?" is a simple no. And I've learned to pray the asker doesn't follow up with an impolite "Why?". I've learned to not flinch when asked, "When are you guys gonna have kids?" as if children are a foregone conclusion for everyone or that our childlessness is our choice. And God forbid I've chosen to share my predicament, for everyone has a method or a doctor or a story or an answer. I've learned that my friends with children are often miserable and exhausted. And that's made me question how hard I'm fighting for something that may often make me miserable and exhausted. It's led me to wonder how badly I want children. Or if I'm even meant to since it's been so difficult. It's strained my marriage to the brink of divorce.

So, yeah. Off course.

Now I've been trying for so long I've become a cliche: yet another infertile woman, well aware of the fertility statistics facing middle-aged women (hint: it's not pretty). I've resisted writing about it because it feels like admitting failure and frankly, it's a downer. I also don't want it to define me: The Woman Who Can't Get Pregnant. And it feels like a topic scads of child-free ladies have written about and I wonder what I could possibly add to the already-heaping pile.

But here's why I am. Because I am a seeker (just like Ah Wing Fu!) and I seek to get to the bottom of something. Everyone I know has at least one sticking point in their life, one area that isn't working. Maybe it's relationships or money or career or health or a yearning for a baby. And these are basically happy people who are blessed in so many other areas (including me). So how do we knock it off? How do we figure this out?

You're holding back the best parts of yourself from any relationship when you are wishing it were something else. That's true of all relationships: the ones between you and others, you and your career, you and your bank account, or you and your lady parts. Not to say we shouldn't wish for things to change, but if we're miserable where we are, we'll never get there anyway. We're too busy looking for what's not working. And as freaking frustrated as I can get about things not being how I want them to be, it's become more important to me to not be a diminished version of myself.

So I've taken to having these kinds of conversations:

Ok, God/Life/Angels/Universe, show me how to do this gracefully. Show me how to either find my way to a child or accept my life the way it is right now. Or preferably both. Show me the playing-a-Chinese-man version of not being a mother yet. Help me get on board. Show me I'm going to be okay. Show me how to have courage and do it full-on. Show me how to love myself more.

Maybe it's my foolish optimism (I'm an actress accustomed to rejection after all) but I really do somehow still feel like our child is on its way to us. And if I'm being honest, while this four year journey has led to a shit-ton of pain, it's also led to a tremendous amount of good. It's forced my marriage to expand to a new, fiercely loving place that couldn't have happened otherwise. I've been blessed with introspection and growth and acceptance and patience and a million other qualities that will make me a better mother if I'm so lucky. And if not, absolutely a better, more compassionate person.

What if the things we think are not working are actually working in perfect order to get us to a place that the higher part of us yearns for? It simply might look differently on the outside than we envisioned. And maybe we shouldn't rush to take score. Whether this is true or not, doesn't it feel better to believe it? I wish this peaceful perspective for all of us.

So I look to my fifth-grade self and learn from her guts. God bless that little girl who became an old Chinese man with aplomb. I love her more than if she'd gotten to play the easy ingenue, the expected role. I can see her now in her transformation scene, proudly pulling out her magic butterfly pocket-wings and running around in her Chinese slippers, long braid flapping, believing she was airborne.

xoxo
jolie

 P.S:

joeycakehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-5597568156079115122014-03-25T13:51:00.001-07:002014-03-25T13:53:00.812-07:00damn you, Buzzfeed!

Good Tuesday to you, lovely readers! I don't know about you but I cannot get anything online done in a timely fashion these days because of all the freaking things on the Internet THAT I MUST CLICK ON. Please tell me I'm not alone.

As a public service, I've selected a few choice tidbits from the "articles" I've read to give you a little more time in your day. You're welcome:

1. Keifer Sutherland is a twin.
2. An easy way to eat less: put the questionable/high-carb/fattening food across the room so you have to get up off the couch to reach it.*
3. A photo shot from above you is way more flattering than one shot from below.
4. If you want to look younger, don't sleep on your face.
5. Overweight men last longer in bed.
6. 'Viajou na maionese' is a Portuguese phrase meaning 'to live in a dream world' (literally to travel in the mayonnaise).
7. If I were a character from "Happy Days", I'd be Joanie.

*this justified a whole article

Along this theme, my latest piece for the Huffington Post is up and it's a quiz! How meta!

Quiz: Which Time-Sucking Yet Irresistible Internet Article Are You?

I hope you enjoy it.
I enjoy you.
xoxo
jolie

P.S. The kind people at The HuffPo chose this picture with my article and I could not be more pleased about it.

P.P.S. Clicking on this might actually be worth it.

joeycakehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-3029652875623694942014-03-17T12:55:00.000-07:002014-03-17T13:02:11.815-07:00greeeeeeeen juice

Hello my darling readers:) This morning we were jolted awake by a 4.4 earthquake wake-up-call. Crap. Even though I've lived in California most of my life, I will never get used to them. Our bed jumped what felt like a few feet off the ground, DP and I clutched each other with death grips and Lena nervously paced around the bedroom for almost an hour afterwards. We lie there, listening to all the neighborhood car alarms and Lena's clickclickclicking, wondering if there would be a second one. I could definitely think of more fun ways to ring in St. Patrick's Day. Now that I think of it, we should've drunk some Irish whiskey to celebrate and calm our nerves at the same time.

Despite being delicious and crazy good for you, green juice is probably up there with earthquakes in terms of St. Patrick's Day fun. Unless your idea of fun is being super healthy. If so, I admire you. If you're normal, my suggestion is to make it tomorrow. Or spike it with a little whiskey.

Green Juice
yields about 20 oz, or 2 portions

1 small bunch celery
3 persian cucumbers
2 small granny smith apples
2-3 inches ginger
5 giant handfuls baby spinach

Wash and trim all veggies, halve the apples and throw everything into your juicer. Drink up!

xoxo
jolie

P.S. Other Green Joeycake Faves:
Avocado Toast
Banana Chocolate Almond Kale Smoothie
Zucchini and Leek Fritters
Roasted Broccolini with Chili and Lemon
Kale Soup

P.P.S. Remind me to tell you about a recent commercial audition where I had to pretend-conduct a symphony orchestra while wearing only underwear. YOU CAN'T MAKE THIS STUFF UP.joeycakehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373891192539646593.post-38856843261255233312014-03-01T12:15:00.000-08:002014-03-01T12:22:26.094-08:00baby lena!

Eleven years ago this month, we adopted Lena from her wonderful foster parents, Rachel and Michael. Lena and her sister, Vita, were being starved by a previous owner and thankfully removed from that home and placed in a shelter. Rachel and Michael found them there and loved the sweet girls back to health. They wound up keeping Vita and we've kept in touch over the years, swapping pictures of the sisters and having an occasional dinner. Six months ago Vita died unexpectedly and it hit us hard, especially since we've been aware of Lena aging now more than ever.

They came to dinner a couple weeks ago and Michael mentioned that before we had adopted her, he had taken Lena on the local morning news show here in LA, where they have a regular animal adoption segment. (What?!) They just sent it to us and I thought you might like to see one minute of puppy Lena:)

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My friend Susan said it's remarkable that our child star grew up to be so normal:)

Happy Saturday:)
xoxo
jolie

joeycakehttp://email@example.com


text:
Im offering shiny totodile. Im looking for shiny bulbasaur or charmander
Im offering shiny totodile. Im looking for shiny bulbasaur or charmander
Leaf green re count:540
happy to trade. white fc: 0734 2476 0668 SSBB fc: 3308 6572 9381
3ds friend code: 2466 2806 3978
Former Admin pidgeotto from dueling network.
heam my cream.
shiny hunts in progress:
340 hordes for Female Nidoran
540 encounters on route 210
8059 SR's for articuno
268 SR's in black2 BQ
Shiny failures:
looking for a totodile to adopt
LOoking for a Totodile, can give any other starter, PM me please
My Heartgold FC: 1936 5444 8269
If anyone needs a Cyndaquil, Eevee, or Chikorita and has a Totodile to offer, please message me. Note that on my offers I cannot guarantee any IVs or nature.
Hi! I have some Totodiles to offer! PM me with your offer if interested. PLEASE don't offer me Pokemons that are in my signature, except if they have someting special (like egg move).
(4x) Totodile lvl 1 with Scratch and Leer. Natures available: Brave, Lax, Jolly and Serious
Last edited by fa11ingstar; 11th April 2012 at 6:37 PM.
Can breed:
and others, just ask me...
Make your offers!
I have newly hatched Tododiles trading them for other starters. Or for baby forms like Rioulu or Munchlax.
PM me if you want to make a deal.
Last edited by theonemonk; 12th April 2012 at 9:01 PM.
I can trade a totodile to anyone who needs it. I'm looking for charmander and a leaf stone
Currently looking for mega kick pikachu
Friend code: 4871-3207-8532
Looking for a shiny totodile I have plenty of shinnies to offer. Im looking for the pokes in my sig if you have any of them. (Preferably untrained) PM me
Link to my 4th/5th Gen Shop
Pocket Monsters Stop Shop
Friend Safari: Dragon/Fairy
i need chikorita & totodile asap for my soul silver!
i just strated playing it so i need them in my adventure!
i have eevee ,zorua , phione and any starter but they're in my pokemon black!
plz pm me!
My Pokemon X FC:
Got one already.
Last edited by EXGShadow; 13th May 2012 at 2:43 PM.
3DS FC: 0044 3638 4020 - Ghost Safari
Looking for any pokemon with the move Celebrate
XY Global Link Medals: 150
Battle Maison Trophies: 5
Battle Maison Win Streak: 200 (Triple)
I am looking for any level totodile and any gender. I am willing to trade a shiny drowzee I caught for it. Or I can also trade a Cyndaquil or Quilava.
i need any chikorita and/or totodile
ive got over 430 different pokemon in my boxes and i bunch of items, PM me and let me know what you need
Have a totodile. Looking for as many pokes as possible as I have just started the game.
My Fc is 047631474704
Looking to train your pokemon? well pm me and I can train it for you
Need a clone? Well I just found ou how to and I can clone any poke without ribbons. Pm me if you are interested
1 Free Shiny!!!!!Pm me on details on how to particiate. Will probably be doing this until Jan. 5!
Hey everyone looking for gen IV pokes pm me if we can trade in 5 and you trade in 4 let me know thanks
I need a totodile for pokemon black version. I can offer you tepig, oshawatt, snivy, riolu,eevee or zorua. You can have as many of these pokemon as you want, and i can nickname them or breed for certain genders or natures. I honestly dont care about the totodiles nature or gender, but it must have an english name.
Pokemon black FC:3998 1397 7764
I need a Totodile for my white version. I can offer oshawatt, Chimchar, Cyndaquil, Chikorita, Snivy, Munchlax, Eevee. Any totodile will do
My Fc is 3224 5242 9623
IGN: Fabio
I have feraligator iam seeking riolu timid or modest nature and dratini adament nature (4th gen)
Got shiney event suicune would you trade for that?
I need a totodile I've got a few Pokemon like 3 shiney event Pokemon nothing too crazy please PM me if you can help with my situation
Anyone know if there's a gen 5 board for totodiles I could really use the help
IGN: Fabio
Seeking a Totedile any nature will do! I have starters such as Charmander, Cyndaquil and Mudkip to breed for you in exchange, please feel free to inbox me and we can sort out a trade
Looking for a flawless ditto. Offering a totodile with DD/IcePunch in return with 31 ivs in HP/Defence/and I think speed. PM me if interested.
If you are like me, and think that Typhlosion is too epic to be in UU, paste this in your sig. Started by Epicpip
If you believe in Jesus Christ put this in your profile and don't just ignore this, because in the Bible it says, If you deny me, I will deny you in front of my Father in the gates of Heaven.
SoulSilver FC: 2967-9498-1854
Black 2 FC: 2881-7423-9763
I currently have all Kanto,Johto,Hoenn,and Sinnoh starter pokemons, I also have Eevee and Snorlax. I am now searching for a pokemon with pokerus. PM me if you want any starters and/or have a pokemon with pokerus.
Last edited by Arides10; 3rd June 2012 at 4:39 AM.
Pokemon Diamond - Name: Ares | Friend Code: 0819 9677 0437
Currently Looking for Rock Slide TM and Stone Edge TM. Offering The things I have from below. still looking for TMs 6/16/12
(I am willing to trade Multiple of the below for the Above!)
I have all Kanto,Johto,Hoenn,and Sinnoh starter Pokemons.
I have Eevee, Riolu,Drifloon, and Snorlax.
I have Pokerus Virus.
I have Master Balls (most likely hacked).
I have Most TM's in Pokemon Diamond.
I have Most Berries in Pokemon Diamond.
I have Most ITEMS that you can get in Pokemon Diamond.
I have any Pokemon in Pokemon Diamond (except rares) for trade.
Really want a male totodile or any of its evolutions. PM me if you have one to trade!
Diamond friend code - 4943 1368 5203
My team ( )
Really want feraligatr instead of blastoise..... let me know if your trading totodile
Tell me what you think and how to improve
I really like dinosaur looking pokemon

subset: commoncrawl


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love it!
@lola_juanlu @hippopo0838 thanks! ;)
chi---koVery cool!!!
Congratulations for your popular photo!!: It´s very nice.


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#203 - bagestudios (06/18/2012) [-]
If you're friendzoned, then please give it up. It's not worth it. It only happens 1 time out of a billion that you'll get her. True story.