just barely Thursday morning

sounds like: American Horror Story/Freak Show (Scary clowns. No.). Could I Be coming home with Sylvan Esso? Current favorite driving song: Bang Bang by the Monophonics.  Will You, Daniel Wilson, will you? Supreme guilty pleasure song, though def can't blast this one down the streets of Old Town: Lil Dicky's Ex-Boyfriend. 

tastes like: Hot wasabi spiced peanuts. Black garlic from Union Market, though I don't know what to do with it yet. 

feels like: I turn 31 on Saturday. I'm throwing an ice cream social because I'm an adult and I make adult life decisions. In all realness, I'm excited to spend a nice (maybe rainy) afternoon eating ice cream—cough-photographing ice cream—with my best friends. I've also decided to design menus after shindigs such as this one - keep my personal design skills fresh, ya know? 

smells like: dried lavender and perfume on my pillowcase. It's time for bed. 

photo via Not Without Salt

monday evening, technically tuesday morning

sounds like: having No Rest for the Wicked with Lykke Li, bang bang - being shot down by Nico Vega, Witchy Woman, and finding the modern Wolf with Sylvan Esso. After a few months' hiatus, I've jumpstarted via vina again. I've missed it and have fallen out of habit of remembering my dreams. 

tastes like: Fried green tomatoes straight from the garden. The tomatoes, not the frying, though game over if someone invents a fried tomato plant. Do you remember the hot dog tree in Big Top Pee-Wee? Shoot, that just might be my favorite part of that movie, second to when Winnie threw the egg salad sandwiches into the creek when she caught Pee Wee macking on Gina. Figures my favorite scenes would involve food. 

feels like: I need to move (oh, that might be a thing, hopefully no more of this hour commute nonsense - we'll see what happens), I need to start a website (remember when I was talking about that last year? Me too.), and I just need to get shit done. 

smells like: summer rain. 

photo via somewhere in the tumblrsphere. I want a flatfile in my studio!

friday evening: today we celebrate our independence day

sounds like: one of the best: Dolly Parton's Jolene. Fall(ing) In Love with Phantogram. I don't want to fight it - The Feeling with The Knocks. Having Good Day(s) with Nappy Roots. Hearing it through the Kaiser Chiefs' Grapevine. Going to be the type of night...you hope it never ends - BST FRNDS with Spirit Animal. 

tastes like: Great burger at Amphora Diner with Peter Lee. The fries were on point, as were the kid's meal pancakes we ordered when we saw them on a neighboring table. Hand-shaken iced coffee at Coffe Amouri. Peter Lee cracks me up. Remind me to tell you about his trip back from Denver. Even better, he should create a blog and tell you himself. I didn't grow up with brothers and, aside from my older male cousins, Peter Lee would be the closest I've come to having a brother. 

feels like: a. ohhhhhh, suddenly it all makes sense. Ah well, c'est la vie. b. This is fun and I'm going to see where it goes. c. I think I'm going to make mixtapes for people. d. It's the Fourth of July and fireworks are going off outside my window and I didn't do anything patriotic save for wearing red, white, and blue. Truth of the matter is, today was a chill Friday and I don't have enough of those. 

smells like: Summer peach lotion. I'm trying to live, breathe, and feel that summer peach scent. Summer is here. 

Photo via 6senseshawty

Thursday morning

sounds like: Hearing it through the grapevine with the Kaiser Chiefs and rockin' The Feeling with The Knocks (nonstop dance party ftw on Monday). You See Me, babe?

tastes like: Toothpaste. I just brushed my teeth. I wish I had time to bake a mess of biscuits.

feels like: So much to do before this weekend's Mid-Atlantic Food Writer's Symposium. It would figure that I have double managers' meetings today too. Ah well, looks like I'm going in early and leaving late. Life is pretty sweet otherwise. No complaints, other than bedroom being messy - but let's be honest, I complain about that any chance I get. That's what happens when you constantly have projects on your brain (and on your desk).

smells like: Lemon perfume. Feeling fresh.

sunday morning

sounds like: The Arctic Monkeys vs. The Killers' Scumbody Told Me, knowing better & learning faster with Thao Nguyen, and searching for Freedom with Anthony Hamilton & Elayna Boynton. 

tastes like: French-press coffee before the farmers market. I'm going to photograph tartines later, so I'll be eating tartines later. I have a bit of coconut yogurt that's today or never. 

feels like: Where to start? It saddens me that a significant part of my life has been reduced to a Gotye song. I don't particularly understand it and it bothers me that it bothers me. I don't act or speak lightly and even saying all of this required a certain level of deliberation. In all honesty, I miss the friendship. He listened, he made me laugh, and I loved him for it. C'est la vie, however, I can't let the what happeneds and the what ifs eat my brain. I probably should have said this awhile ago, but I'm stubborn.  The long and short of it is that it happened. I have no regrets. I wish him only the very best and that he finds what he was looking for. I shall think of him, but I shall no longer speak of it. 

smells like: Spring. Finally. 

Photo via Flickr

a beatbox imaginary in the show, all your shell-toes lined up in a row

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1 AM thoughts: 

• This song is damn catchy. 
• Do I want to eat the leftover Crawfish Monica? Mmmmayyybe. 
• Extra Strength Bengay is no joke. I think my skin is melting. Now I know what it must feel like to drink from the wrong chalice.  
• Today was a good social media for the restaurants. I love it when my phone blows up from all the retweets and tags. The multimedia maven is happy. Tomorrow is a busy day. No, this week is a busy week. Hell, this year is a busy year. Thank goodness for weekend naps. What time do I have to be at the Fair on Friday? Six AM? Ah shiiiiiiii
• I'm so excited for Chef Ryan's baby gift to get here. Please, please, please let it arrive soon. (Tell me you picked up what I just put down.)
• Midnight blue might be my favorite color. It only took thirty years to figure that out. 
• Fuckit, I'm going to eat the Crawfish Monica. 

G'night, all. 

the beginning of wednesday

sounds like: I've listened to Ki:Theory's Stand By Me on repeat for over an hour now (play count: 29). I'll listen to this song if I ever walk down mean city streets in the rain and dressed all in black like I'm John Constantine. You should listen to it too. Pretty please. 

tastes like: Coffee at the Fair and coconut milk yogurt at the traffic lights during my morning commute. I sampled the new (and secret!) Filipino entrée at Restaurant Eve. 

feels like: New projects on the horizon: I was asked to shoot Baker Nathan & Chef Margaret's wedding next May (squeeeeee), preliminary photo meetings about the April wedding in Jamaica and ten shades of excitement from just the conceptualization of my personal logo, website, and redesign of my book. So much to do, so little time. Did I mention that I used a new fabric softener on my bedsheets and my bed has reached a new level of “I never want to leave”-dom?  It's the little things in life, man. 

smells like: Jasmine perfume. I give no fucks this time. Ok, that's a total lie but whatevs.

Illustration via Infinite Positivity

it's only just Monday morning, but we all know it's still Sunday evening.

sounds like: the Long Time, Wrong Time with Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings (soon at 9:30 Club!), Jimmy Edgar turning me inside and out, and Battle Tapes' Sweatshop Boys making me want to fight crime or dance against walls (hell, maybe both) and, if y'all haven't realized this by now - baby, I'm Good For You. Mr. Hudson, you can be good for me anytime.

tastes like: Pink cupcakes and Prosecco at Vivi's birthday, an abundance of green tea amid a sea of sick and surly chefs, and comfort food duck wonton soup in frigid-ass January. I slept in full long johns and a hoodie last night. That's how cold it is. I constantly crave soup. 

feels like: Accomplishment of today's list, though mundane and tedious, I really do like doing the everyday type things. Tonight I sleep on freshly-laundered sheets and watch the new episode of The Following. It's probably sad over how happy that just made me. Side note, iTunes is on shuffle and Emmure's death metal guttoral screaming just scared the hell out of me. That's what you get when you get a Henna Tattoo That Says Forever. 

smells like: Jasmine perfume. I haven't worn it in awhile for various reasons, mainly because it was in a tote bag I stopped using, partly because the olfaction keeps triggering memories that cause me to want things I can't have. 

Photo from last Thursday at Izakaya Seki/Daikaya for a ramen date with Monica & Russell to celebrate his new position at Jack Rose. So so so happy for him. 

late Wednesday evening, technically early Thursday morning

sounds like: Going on Space Oddities with Kristen Wiig and David Bowie, being a Victim of Love with Charles Bradley, forgetting the time with the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, fantasies with Ludacris, and knowing better and learning faster with Thao and the Get Down Stay Down. 

tastes like: Vanilla and almond in my coffee. I didn't even mind the surprise almond flavor, I was just grateful for the warmth of the coffee mug. Old Bay seasoning in my Chesapeake sauce at the chipper. Mulled wine. I am all about the mulled wine during the winter months. Of course, I would much rather be about the iced tea and cold lemonade of the summer months. Roasted, almost burnt, garlicky Brussels sprouts. Brussels sprouts are my jam. (ten second pause while I contemplate going out into the polar vortex, 'round midnight no less, so that I can buy Brussels for lunch. Nah, boo. You don't like the cold, remember?)

feels like: In about fifteen minutes, I am going to climb into bed and read the Cooks & Chefs #2 issue of Lucky Peach. It's amazing what eight hours of sleep will do for one's disposition. Remind me, if I ever have my own design/lifestyle/food empire, to feature a quarterly. I should just design a quarterly for the hell of it. I'll commission all my awesome & talented friends for content. Pay them in food and smiles. At least until the empire gets going. 

smells like: paperwhite flowers = my favorite part of winter. 

Photo of the apathetic thermostat polar bear at Society Fair. That rhymes.

Thursday evening

sounds like: the greatness that is Peter Stormare and Djimon Hounsou in Constantine. There was a period of time when I watched Constantine every night before bed. I think I liked it because it was dark (visually) and the light didn't bother me from sleeping. CCR putting a spell on me. Going good together like treble and reverb with Aaradhana. Sending a heartbeat to The Smashing Pumpkins. 

tastes like: Flu meds. A ramekin of butternut squash soup and a few hunks of cheese while I was still at the Fair. I think J felt sorry for me. I'm not one of those, “oh I got this, work through the illness” kind of people. I'm like that for about twenty minutes and then, “Leave alone to die, I just want to take a bath and nap” kind of people. (It's a lot less pathetic then it sounds, I promise.) I woke up from a four hour nap and had a small bowl of pho. Maybe I'll make rice soup for breakfast. Asian soups are wholly comforting to me. 

feels like: I've got a lot to do so might as well do it. I'm cooking a vegan/vegetarian dinner on Saturday. I've yet to write the menu. I'm thinking whipped hazelnut dip with fall crudités and purple potato gnocchi. I could go Southern, I love Southern. What's the vegetarian equivalent of shrimp & grits? Vegetable hash and grits? I could probably make vegan mac & cheese and collards. Wait, no ham bone for my broth? Shit. Ok, I'll think about this while I fold laundry and catch up on episodes of Elementary. 

smells like: I have a pot of lemon thyme on my nightstand. It's as wonderful as it sounds. 

photo via Instagram

late Monday afternoon

sounds like: whatever gets me through my design anger. The Ramones, Frank Ocean, Johnny Cash, and Lorde. Donald Glover episode of Adventure Time. Chef Larry slamming cooler doors because he's half in the weeds and frustrated. I know that feel, Chef Lar Bear. 

tastes like: Coffee and a good amount of it. Turkey, bacon, and pimento cheese on toasted batch loaf. Tomato soup. A piece of Andouille sausage. I like that spicy life. Dinner with the Baker Nathan & the Chef Margaret tonight - the food of my people! I photographed caramel apple bars, but didn't actually eat a caramel bar. Does it count if I licked cinnamon off my thumb? Sure, it totally counts. 

feels like: I've been designing this Thanksgiving poster for damn near five hours. Mind tired now. 

smells like: Falafel cooking in hot oil. I sit next to the line now. 

image via Pink Robot Boogaloo

Don't furlough your brow, October's here.

 

sounds like: Lorde's Pure Heroine album. Danced all day to them jams. Waking up with Aloe Blacc. Cold War Kids, I've Seen Enough. Born Again Floozies rockin' that Street Music. Speaking of, how accessible are they? Can we invite them to play this song in my favorite Old Town tunnel? Cookin’ up some music video ideas with the ST. 

tastes like: Homemade maple bacon butter. Life is legit when a vegetarian makes you bacon butter AND pancakes with the leftover buttermilk. I ate sweet summer cherry tomatoes while I designed a poster about autumn. Baker Bri brought me a spoonful of brown butter buttercream. I'm trying to do unspeakable things with that buttercream, y'all. It's that decadent. 

feels like: Oh hey, I turn 30 in ten days. I don't feel older in the slightest. Jacket weather is imminent, I'm not feeling it. Our government just shut down. Sucks for my government job friends, but party hearty for my service industry peeps. Every day is now a weekend. Let's do this. 

smells like: Celery bitters, bourbon, and apple. The bitters all wear little hats! 

Photo of the little 90¢ incense cat that I bought at the thrift store a few months back. He makes me smile.

Monday evening

sounds like: Lost in Frank's Ocean. Ghosts with Eddie Murphy. Elvis Presley, don't. 

tastes like: Curd Nerd made me pimento & turkey sandwich on baguette before I left the Fair. I then forgot to eat for about nine hours. That spicy Thai coconut soup was the best thing in my life for about twenty minutes, like “where am I, this tastes so good” status. 

feels like: I'd like to go to sleep but am waiting for details and information for a very last minute project. Maybe I'll go to bed now and wake up early for it. I don't see them emailing me before midnight. Speaking of projects, I have way too many on my mind and not enough hours in the day to accomplish them. Side note, I enjoy misspelling hours to horus. Fast typing taking me to Egyptian falcon sky gods, baller. 

smells like: Bourbon, vanilla, and apples. Begrudgingly the beginnings of autumn. 

photo via A Note On Design

late Thursday evening, almost early Friday morning.

sounds like: No Limit to my Love because The Stars Are mine. Losing myself to Dance because I'm Bound 2 Blur the Lines. 

tastes like: lavender caramel latte while I edited the Bakery page on the Society Fair site, Naked green juice while I drove to work on my favorite road - George Washington Parkway, duck carnitas/shrimp/Baja fish tacos while Monica & I discussed wedding invitation design.

feels like: wind in my hair, shameless car dancing, summer mugginess and imminent thunderstorms, and  excitement over new projects and new playlists. Friday is but minutes away! 

smells like: vanilla bourbon perfume. 

photo via PinkRobotBoogaloo

Welcome, mundane Saturday.

All I want to do is (besides get a little closer): 

• Organize my closet. Too. Many. Shoes. 
• Catch up on magazines that I haven't read since, oh, last November. They're mostly food magazines too, so you know I'm going to want to braise something and eat food that's no longer in season. 
• Clear the desktops of my laptop and iMac. Too. Many. Icons. 
• You know, cook something. I kind of want to bake cookies, but that would require going out. I don't really have any desire on going out. I barely want to be dressed. 
• Blog a little. Hey, I'm blogging now! Well alriiiiiight. 
• Catch up on TEDtalks, Bones, maybe a little Nerdist up in there. 
• Upload photos to my Flickr. I haven't in months. 
• Laundry. 
• Plan, design, and create my website. Yeah, right. Keep on truckin'. 

Work makes work, people. See you at my next internet break. 

Photo via lustik

late Wednesday evening

sounds like: new albums by Vampire Weekend, Fitz & The Tantrums, She & Him, Hanni el Khatib, and The National. A little Skrillex to get me through the evening. I just want to go to bed. 

tastes like: seared venison and carrot purée, avocado and roasted tomato on baguette, that basil/rhubarb/gin cocktail from Eve (all about that herbacious life), pork belly at some point. I had some crisps with Virginia dip for dinner. I like crisps. You know you work for the Irish when potato chips are crisps and French fries are chips. 

feels like: Summer at last. My ring tan is back, and today I got a heat-induced nosebleed. It has begun. As a side note, super excited for Steph's possible new endeavor. Ummmmmm yes food blogger friend outings, not that we don't have those already. RVA Fried chicken and doughnuts soon. 

smells like: Sophie was tearing fresh basil at Eve earlier. The scent permeated the entire restaurant. Wonderful. 

Photo via No Architect

the wee hours of Sunday morning

sounds like: beta lovin' Ra Ra Riot (I'm listening to the the RAC remix, but the original has a totally tubular 80s dance party video), having happy feet with The Gray Kid (Coop and the rest of the Spirit Animal boys will be at DC9 on Tuesday!), poppin' some tags with Macklemore and Ryan Lewis (apparently I live under a rock because I had never heard of this song before today), and hanging loose with the Alabama Shakes. 

tastes like: a big-ass cream puff from Mom's Apple Pie Bakery. You start to ponder life, the universe, and everything the second you can't finish a cream puff because it has too much whipped cream. Too much whipped cream, what a wussy thing to say. Next thing you know I'll be eating half of a banana and saving the rest for later. Man the eff up, vina.

feels like: My sleep schedule is all topsy turvy. I do not like it. I took a nap at 10 PM on a Wednesday. 10 PM vina thought she was just going to “rest her eyes” for twenty minutes. 1 AM vina scoffed at such a silly notion, and then watched Elementary until three in the morning. On that note, A. Sexy deductive reasoning, B. Jonny Lee Miller's proper accent. Ampersand, not a dash. C. Lucy Liu, I love Lucy Liu! and  D. I can't look at Aidan Quinn without thinking of Practical Magic.

smells like: fresh rosemary on my bedside table.

Photo taken last month at Steph's house, the day we listened to Nikki's podcast.

Just barely Monday morning

sounds like: Imelda May, Tom Morello & Ben Harper, and DeVotchKa (Enemy Guns is one of my favorite driving songs.). Peep the previous post with B.B. King. The man knows his way around a guitar. 

tastes like: Orange juice with pulp. Orange juice without pulp = why bother? 

feels like: Victory since I did laundry and cleaned my car. I've probably mentioned this at some point, but I love cleaning my car. There are cleaning wipes, protecting wipes, and a brush to clean in between the buttons on my dashboard. Mama don't mess around when it comes to cleaning, but don't ask me about the hellhole that is my bedroom closet. Items I found in the trunk of my car: four umbrellas, a Christmas gift for my Richmond cousins (I obviously see them often), a pie dish, a plank of wood that I was going to use for a woodcut print, and my room card from Le Meridien. I secretly thought that Justin lost my key. Now I feel bad. 

smells like: the cocoa butter lotion that makes me smell like hot chocolate. 

photo via Infinite Positivity

Late Friday evening. Damn near Saturday morning.

sounds like: John Newman, Childish Gambino/Twistclip/Sosupersam, and Beck.

tastes like: the new banana hazelnut cake at Society Fair. The banana cream looks vaguely of mustard. Don't tell Baker Nathan I said that. I dig the saltiness in the hazelnut buttercream. Today I watched Mark try to finish an entire slice. That was entertaining.

feels like: I'm done with this rainy winter nonsense. Bring me summer, bring me peaches, bring me beaches, Bring Me The Horizon. Oh damn, I just took it to metalcore.

smells like: Paperwhite blossoms:  the best thing about winter besides slow braised anything and long johns.

photo via midwestraised midwestliving

(just barely) Friday morning

sounds like: Frank Ocean, Childish Gambino, Breakbot, and Eddie Cusic telling me that I don't have to go.

tastes like: Vietnamese drip coffee and condensed milk at eight in the evening, because I'm an adult and make wise food decisions like that. One regular No. 1 bowl of pho, the one that has everything, with meatballs, please.

feels like: Sweet darling, I hope it doesn't snow tomorrow. I enjoy snow, but only when I do not have to leave my bed. I'm over this winter nonsense. I wore five layers yesterday. That's four layers too many.

smells like: fresh coffee at Society Fair, snow in the air, and wool.

photo via The Cats Must Be Crazy

(I hope that this is a reference to The Gods Must Be Crazy, because then their cool points just jumped tenfold.)