Paris Paradise

8 oz Bacardi 151 Proof

2 oz Chocolate Syrup

2 oz Bailey's Liquor

Mix in a blender with ice and drink for the next 72 hours straight until you actually board a plane for Paris.

I'm leaving. Yup. The 72 hour countdown has begun.

Have I done laundry? no.

Am I packed in the slightest? nope to that question too.

Have I gotten all my travel documents together...negative.

So...obviously I'm super ready to leave.

Luckily, tomorrow night is a lovely dinner with the gorgeous miss Ali Dubrow, and then an early night of packing, picking up dry cleaning, laundry, getting travel documents together, grabbing a journal from Barnes and Noble so I can document the whole extravaganza. Sleep will hopefully fit in the mix there somewhere.

Work on Saturday and Sunday will be the most productive days I've had to date, but only because no one will be in the office and I will actually have a chance to get EVERYTHING done. I can't wait for the silence that is the office on a Saturday afternoon.

In other news, WE lost this evening. And when I say "we" I mean me and my Lakers. Let me tell you...I was none too pleased with the way we were playing in the latter half of the 3rd and 4th quarters. Drive the basket and draw the foul. Although the celtics play dirty ball, they get into the paint and send shit up into the air. Most of the time it actually works. We should take a page out of the Celtic's manual.

More to follow in the next 72 hours...I'm sure.

With love and Allegro!

Kristen

Giraffe

1 part Midori

1 part vodka

3 parts pineapple juice

1 part cranberry juice

Add alcohol into a hurricane glass over ice, fill the remaining portion with pineapple juice and float some cranberry on top. Consume with the hopes that rhymes about ants and giraffes in the rainforest will be easier to come by.

My children's book is going quite well. It's a cute story about a Detective named Dan (He's a giraffe - hense the cocktail name) and his attempts to solve mysteries in the savannas. The problem, however, is that I chose to write this book in verse. Quite ambitious...I know now.

Our adorable little apartment is across the street from a Baptist church. This morning I woke to the sound of Ms. Jennifer Hudson's twin sister wailing gospel music at the top of her lungs...at 7:45. Needless to say I couldn't fall back to sleep after that. The alternative to sleep was of course, writing.

I was on a roll...rhymes flying from my fingertips. I reached a standstill, however, with this line...

"The rain fell down in thunderous sheets

....

Now although there are several words that rhyme with sheets:

Beats

Feats

Greets

Heats

Meets

Seats

How am I supposed to incorporate any of those silly words into a story about ants in a rainforest not being able to find their way back to the anthill? They don't sit down...they're ants.

Plus, although "rockin beats" has a nice ring to it, and definitely rhymes, lets be real. What child would care about the "rockin beats" of a giraffe and his fellow animals in the rainforest?

I'm stuck...

Back to the drawing board...maybe I'll have to change the line to "The rain poured through the trees with...zeal."

Zeal...obviously a five year old would appreciate the nuances of that word...oi vey.

With love and allegro,

Kristen

Start Me Up...

3 parts vodka

1 part tequila

1 part absolut kurant

1 part dark rum

Mix all together, shake with some ice, and get ready to write...a la Gay Talese.

The lovely Miss Ali and I had Indian food on Thursday evening for our catch-up sesh *Read...3 weeks of our lives that we needed to divulge in a period of about two and a half hours*.

The food (Mango Chicken Curry) might have been the BEST thing I have ever tasted, but I digress...

Among me synopsizing the Grey's finale, along with dishing about a boy, my long winded topic of conversation for the evening related to my excursion at the Los Angeles Passport Office. Don't be jealous. I know...it sounds fascinating.

SO fascinating, in fact, that Ali's beyond brilliant idea to write about said line at the passport office is just what I'm going to do.

Let the tackling of the seemingly mundane commence...

With love & allegro,

K

Norwegian Iceberg

3 parts Vodka

4 parts Sprite

1 shot blue Maui

Fill glass with ice, shake ingredients together, drink SUPER cold and with some warm Norwegian Christmas cookies that I may just make in June.

When I talk about something right before I fall asleep, it's all I can think about the next day.

i.e. : Last night Albert and I were discussing the fact that I am ridiculously white. Translucent...even. This conversation was spurred in tandem, however, with the fact that I am Norwegian. Now, let's be honest. There are very few things that *common people* know about Norwegians other than their Viking-ness and freakishly tall figures (enter...me, the 5 foot 11 inch blonde amazon).

What I know of being Norwegian, however, is the fact that we cook some MEAN pastries. I mean, MEAN. (for those of you that weren't paying attention, I used the word "mean" twice with two totally separate "meanings"!) ;) I crack myself up.

WARNING: The following images are not for the hungry or feint of heart.

Sand Bakkels - Basically a cupcake paper made entirely out of shortbread. You fill these with whipped cream or peppermint ice cream. My grandpa makes them by the dozens. My brother can eat at least 7 in one sitting. The best part is that it is mere impossible to eat one without getting whipped cream on your nose.

Try.

No really.

Fattigman - Deep Fried Cookie Dough covered in powdered sugar. When I was too young to deep fry (knowing I would do exactly what my mother feared) it was always my job to put the freshly fried cookies inside a bag full of powdered sugar and shake until the little bow-ties were smothered in it.

Krumkake - This fondly reminds me of every Christmas dinner I've ever experienced at my Grandparents' house. My Granny (a 6 foot 2 inch Viking, similar to myself) to this day, asks me to help her in the kitchen with the stuffing of custard and berries into the little waffle cookie cones. Any portion of the cones that brake, I get to eat.

It's a tough life.

Finally, the delicacy we have the most often at our house...

Ebelskivers - These are breakfast.

I know...right?

Ebelskivers are traditional little puff pastries (almost crepe like) covered in powdered sugar and *traditionally* Lingonberry Jam.

Salivating Yet?

You scoff at the silly names, but all you really want to do is go steal my mom's Sand Bakkle pan and bake...

be honest...

With love and Allegro,

Kristen