Hotter Than a Pepper Sprout

A month has passed since it happened, and it's time for me to admit a deep, dark secret: I accidentally fell off the vegetarian* wagon at Christmas. "Accidentally?" you may ask, with a skeptical tone. What happened, did I conveniently "forget" that I don't eat meat and have some bacon? Mistake my father-in-law's oh-so-tasty-looking venison sausage for melba toast? No to both scenarios, and once you learn what I transgressed with I think you will believe it was sincerely an accident. I ate dog food. (I'll let you, as we liberals often say, sit with that for a moment). What?! Did I pass out on the kitchen floor next to the dog food dish and start sleep-eating with the first thing I could reach? No, again I'm going to dash an entertaining possibility with the rather bland truth. I was snacking on treats off the breakfast bar and simply ate some kibble that was in a dish on the counter. The lights were low, I'd had some bourbon, and I ...

I don't have the world's best memory, so I've forgotten many of the gifts that I have received and given through the years. More than once I have said to Chad, "Oh that's really cool, when/where did you get that?" and have had him reply, "Um, you gave that to me for (insert occasion here)." Oops. But I've never forgotten the presents we exchanged the very first year we were dating. I gave Chad "Bear"—the stuffed bear that is still a beloved member of our household—and Chad gave me a porcelain musical cat clown. Yeah, we were pretty adorable. Apparently we inspired all kinds of soft and warm fuzzy feelings in each other that we attempted to express through cuddly bears and cats. But these romantic feelings of young love were definitely uncharted territory for me, and didn't necessarily fit with the emotionally tough girl image nineteen-year old Amy clung too. So I was a little confused by the cat clown, and I'll admit I proba...

This is a combination boast and confession: I wore my pajama pants home from the gym. I knew this was a choice that would hurt my dear husband's heart, but I did it anyway. I simply couldn't see the point in dressing in "street" clothes after working out at the gym and taking a shower, just to drive home and immediately change into my pajamas as soon as I got the dogs fed. Maybe if it was summer I would have made the effort, but choosing and transporting and changing into winter clothes is quite an undertaking. Plus, because it was winter, I had the added justification that I was wearing my big stadium coat so all anyone could see of my outfit was my legs from below my knees. Now since I was wearing my pink flannel pajamas with owls on them, what was visible of my outfit was rather conspicuous. But hey, these were my "dress" pajamas. These flannel pants are one of the most expensive items of clothing I own. I love them deeply, and even bought them at tha...

It's definitely easier for me to dance while playing keyboards than the drum set. I got to take full advantage of this mobility at our most recent gig with our Pretenders cover band, Pigeons from Hell. I don't mean "recent" to imply that we've had several gigs, as we just played our third. But getting to play for other people, and actually getting paid rather than having to pay to do it (even if we did each make only $20) still seems to be good to be true. The day after our New Year's Day show (what a cool way to start out the year) I heard the NPR Radiolab episode on Bliss while I was driving around doing errands. "Bliss" is a pretty strong word, and not one I would normally even consider using, as it does not fit with my German-Lutheran sensibilities. If I step outside of mindset, though, and allow myself to consider the possibility that I can live in a world where bliss exists, then Friday's performance with the Pigeons (as well as some o...