The power of biscuit.

Once upon a time, Jello Biafra and Al Jourgensen made Lard and had a song (among many) called The Power of Lard. I had the EP. Maybe I still do. Maybe it's in my parents' basement. Cover art nothwithstanding it was a fantastic song full of everything I like in music. I shall come back to this later.
So I made pug biscuits today. A little flax, some crushed red lentils, tomatoes, garlic and whammo! Success! Now, as we all know, neither Kate nor Slartibartfast has discerning taste, but I took it as a compliment that they gobbled up the samples and then followed me around for an hour afterwards. While styling the cookies for the photo, Slarti even ventured a dart-and-grab in between shots, proving Jello's adage, "if you love your fun, die for it." Sweet , sweet lard.

Vote Hound

In this fiesty climate of political broohaha I give you, gentlepersons, a hound of love. He comes to us from artist Jeff Winch and was part of a Toronto art installation at election time in 2000. Thanks, Jeff. Thanks, Hound. You make me smile.

What the kids are doing.

I found this very cool remix of Smile by Lily Allen (LOVE her!!!!!) and the Cure's Lullabye. They've cleverly called it Lillybye. I'm impressed.

Lily Allen VS The Cure - Lillybye

I also love her cover of another Cure song, Blank Expression. The Cure's version is great too, mostly because my BFF "A" put it on a mixed tape she made me in grade 9. Good times.

Cat poo jackpot crap week.

Not my usual theme today. I am brokenhearted to find out that Kate, the little puglet, has the big C. Yup, Cancer on her privates. A mast cell tumour, to be exact. It sucks and I'm processing. We're faced with a few options. Or Noptions as I've been calling them.
Kate came to us 3 1/2 years ago from Ruff Riders Rescue in L.A. She had been bred alot by A-holes and dumped at the county shelter, had an impressive case of hip dysplasia (read: I'm not sure how her legs stay on), didn't know how to play, fought for her food and would occasionally fall over in a seizure. We got her spayed, taught her how to play, put her on glucosamine and Primal dog food and while she still eats super fast, she's learned that there will always be enough food. Given her smushy face, the epilepsy and the location of the tumour, surgery prognosis is not good. The tumour could always grow back, the surgery, if they don't get it all, could aggravate the histamines insides the tumour and they could release more of their angry mob into her body. Dammit. So we watch and we wait.
Xrays yesterday showed a mass on her liver which could not be identified. Our next step is an ultra sound to gauge how much time she's got. Right now she's a funny, happy little girl who loves rubbing her face in tall grass, snoring, her gorilla squeaky, her brother Slartibartfast and snurfling around the backyard looking for the cat poo jackpot. Ok.
She gets what she wants until something happens. Then we regroup.

To all my BFFs: Please buy that condo in San Francisco! I'd do it for you.

It is very important to plan for your retirement and not in the way you might think. Michael Flocker's The Hedonism Handbook is one of my favorite books because it insists that you care for your friends and they care for you...even into the muumuu years. My BFF "J" kindly found the paragraph I was looking for and sent it to me, reminding me not to get off track:

"While you are young, you must identify those friends with whom you would be comfortable for a lifetime. Regardless of the marriages, careers and commitments that may arise, you must make a pact with a select few with whom you will work toward purchasing country homes around the world. Regardless of whether they are CEOs or lifelong waiters, everyone must contribute to the pot. Some will provide real estate, some will supply sexy young distractions, but everyone must bring something to the game. These are your partners in the muumuu years."

"Up until the age of seventy, it is adviseable to keep it together, retain your youth and build your personal empire, but once seventy hits, all bets are off. Carbohydrates, alcohol and pain killers are the name of the game, and everyone shares in the riches. At that point, everyone retires and the long, debauched slide into senility begins. Spouses, tricks and crazy strangers are welcome. A traveling loop is formed between so-and-so's place in Miami, what's-her- name's place in Monte Carlo, and thingamajig's place in the Catskills."

It's the traveling loop that is key. Frankly, it's what keeps me motivated some days. I relish thoughts of springtime in Bruges, summer in North Ontario, autumn in Montevideo.

Can I quote you on that?

Sitting alone one evening après le debauchery that was Miami, I was having a pity party of one, realizing that the fun was all over and that my once liquid cash flow had dried up to resemble a dusty arroyo in New Mexico. I moped about the house, lamenting to the dogs that we had no tall, frosty beers in the fridge and nothing to do. Then I remembered we have a pool. Yes! Princess should have a swim and forget her blues. But before going in, I rummaged through the cabinet and found some old vodka and some new sour apple mix. Ha!
I am aware now of how foolish my next thought was and thanks to my BFF "D" who laughed and laughed at my so-called poverty, I am smacked, snorting, all the way back to reality:
"I guess I'll just have to swim in my pool and drink green apple martinis until we can afford beer."

Rooftop-cosmo-deco-jito-loungyness.

Miami Beach. Zipped over for a well deserved week of frivolity and ate very well despite the food pimps. Enjoyed the sport of drinking sparkly beverages while people watching on the beach. Ah, the beach. So nice to be near water.

You want to sit there, don't you?

I have. And it was good. This is Dish, a restaurant and loungy bar in Byron Bay, New South Wales, Australia. Take off your Havaianas and plop down on the white sofas to await the delivery of your freshyfreshfresh mojito. Bliss, I tell you! So chic and fun and I wish my house looked like this bar! But I have pets and we all know when you have pets you can't have anything nice. But that's a rant for another day. For now, enjoy the sea breezes wafting through the white curtains in the evening when they open the floor to ceiling doors in the lounge. Is there anything better?

Mais, qu'est-ce que c'est? Ne me dites pas!

Oh my goodness! Have you ever seen anything so beautiful? These are macaroons (macaroons, I tell you!) from the sweetest little french bakery and salon called Ladurée. They come in all kinds of colours and flavours, wrapped up tight in the cutest boxes imaginable. Could you just die? I don't even like macaroons but I want my whole house to look like one of their shops.

The adventure continues ...

You would think I would be able to find food colouring after visiting three different stores, but no. I settled instead for vegan "buttercream" icing atop an otherworldly chocolate cupcake. A raspberry hat makes them cute and healthy. I can't stop eating them for breakfast. Is that what it's like to be Nigella Lawson?

Cupcakes

Let's get right to it, shall we? I'll be making vegan cupcakes this weekend for the first time and I am a little more than obsessed with finding a method for creating this rainbow icing. Something about it makes me want to learn how it works. What are its secrets? How does it become the glory that it is? Obviously, I'm no professional baker, but I enjoy a good cake batter and I shall rise to this challenge. Oh, yes. It shall be done.