“We were together. I forget the rest.”

Friday Flotsam and Jetsam

Admiring: Jenny and Andy, always. The Dinner: A Love Story 100 Rules of Dinner post is my new favorite thing this week (month?). Some to memorize…

10. There are very few problems in my life that I can’t momentarily forget about when I’m cooking dinner with Andy.

38. If you have to ask “lime or lemon?” when making me a gin and tonic…I’ll make my own gin and tonic.

54. You very rarely feel worse about yourself after cooking dinner.

51. When making pasta, be sure to salt the water.

100. Salt the water again.


Replace “Andy” with “John”, and everything they write is Gospel to me.


Obsessed with: This bridal set by Nora Kogan.  Obviously, I love pretty much everything she makes, but I think this is particularly stunning, especially the band. (via Little Winter Bride).





Excited about: Mad Men! And isn’t little Miss Sally Draper the cutest thing ever.  She always looks totally chic but age appropriate, and I love the messy pony tail. Plus, I have decided Kiernan is an awesome name for a girl.





Reading: This excerpt, via Jenny again.  This book just jumped to the top of my reading list. Divinity, not machines. YES.


Consider the chicken. Today we have industrialized animals. A chicken needs to be cheap to be competitive in the marketplace. So the industrial chicken has a life that lasts forty-two days between its hatching and its sacrifice. They flood the chicken with twenty-three hours of light a day so that the chicken constantly feeds, and then they give it one hour of rest. They do this for six weeks, then the chickens are put on a conveyor belt and either gassed or have their heads chopped off and are immediately dumped in scalding water, after which the dead body is sent to market.

On the other hand, the traditional chicken used to take one and a half years from hatching to sacrifice. You would see the chicken every day and speak to her, and you would share with her certain aspects of your own life. The chicken was your friend; she understood you. You loved each other. She knew she was going to have a happy life and tried to give you her best while you gave her yours. She knew her destiny, that eventually she would make a gift of her life to feed your family. But you honored each other. The chicken lived at home with you, and you ate her at home. It was divinity, not machines.




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This entry was posted on March 29, 2013 by .

Jessica Clare

Preschool teacher, writer, trouble maker.

LIVES: Seattle. By way of Santa Fe, San Francisco, and NYC.
DAYDREAMS:Strong coffee. Gourmet magazine. Stinky cheese. Date night with new strappy heels. Green chile. Going back to India. Unabashed displays of love. Vegetable gardens. Clean sheets. Unruly stacks of books. Breaking Bad marathons. Writing like Joan Didion ,Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and Joseph Stroud. Cookbooks. French 75s. Sequins with jeans. Leaving love notes.
BELIEVES: “A human being is part of the whole, called by us ‘Universe,’ a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest – a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole nature in its beauty. Nobody is able to achieve this completely, but the striving for such achievement is in itself a part of the liberation, and a foundation for inner security.” Albert Einstein “The important thing is not to think much but to love much and so do that which best stirs you to love.” St. Teresa of Avila “People say that what we’re all seeking is a meaning for life. I don’t think that’s what we’re really seeking. I think that what we’re seeking is an experience of being alive, so that our life experiences on the purely physical plane will have resonances without own innermost being and reality, so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive.” Joseph Campbell

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