Too Much

What's that? You wanted more cat pictures?

Mom and Scott are visiting Aunt Mary and Uncle Mike in San Fran this week, so Mom picked up a catnip toy to bring to sweet Mildred, their cat. (Remember Mildred?)

Unfortunately for Millie, Marty caught wind of this plan and was like, "getting a toy for someone else? Ish don't think so. Clearly I must somehow remove it from its cellophane wrapper and go to town."

After a brief, torrid affair, they fell to the ground, spent.

He's bad.

(Photos by Mom).

On The Other Hand...

We already get to hang out with animals in the city...

Escapism

Last year, the Times wedding announcements featured two suspiciously similar entries, in that both couples were... goat farmers. Gawker directed me to the Tumblr blog of one of these farmers, and I've since checked in with it any time big-city life is driving me up the wall (in other words, often).

Louisa and Lucas are two good-looking Middlebury grads. He's a poet. She's an artist. In addition to drawings and free verse, they make cheese and artisan goat-milk caramels. They took up goat farming because "it just seemed like a more fruitful collaboration between art and land." I'm not even being snarky here when I say that they are BEYOND COOL. This is how I dreamed my life would turn out when I was 16 and really into Emerson, and that is in no way a ding. God, sometimes I still want to pack it in and and move to the remote woods with my significant other, where we can hang out with the animals and wear plaid. Then I remember that the remote woods are cold; the restaurant options, lacking. But until I can support Louisa and Lucas by purchasing their inevitable goat-themed visual poetry series, I'll comfort myself with posts like these:

meet CY TWOMBLY! The very first doeling born on Peaked Mountain. And the very first goat born into Big Picture Farm. Not yet 48 hours old, this is her first glimpse of her own shadow.

SEE WHAT I MEAN?? Please, check out the full blog here (UPDATE: I just learned that the husband has one too). If you don't like it... you might not have a soul.

Rough Life

Dwell is having a sale. I don't technically need any more bedding, but Dwell's is the best , and they have sales only rarely. So shouldn't I buy another duvet set that looks exactly like the one we already have, only in red? No? Too much?

Le sigh. Make me happy and go buy it for yourself, okay?

I Recently Played Frisbee With My Husband, But All *I* Got Was a Hug

"I mean, how many young women get a set of rubies just for doing something wholesome like swimming laps? Or win a diamond ring at Ping-Pong with their husband...? Well, I did, and for all of these memories and the people in my life I feel blessed."

-Elizabeth Taylor, My Love Affair with Jewelry

No longer in print!

Mellis

Once upon a time, there was a girl called Melanie, and a boy called Willis.

They met in the moody, candle-lit halls of a Westchester investment management firm, and it was only a matter of time before they fell in love.

Fortunately for everyone, Mellis got along splendidly with Melanie's brother, Dan, and his girlfriend, and they had lots of fun together on many trips throughout the years. They rented an H3 in Orlando:

Burned away most of their skin in Montauk:

Took in tunes at Austin City Limits...

Rode the DK Partybus...

And much more.

When Dan decided to lock his girlfriend down, Mellis even opened up their enormous apartment and pimped their adorable dog for the bridal shower.

I can't really express how lucky Dan and I are to have them around. Whether we're at a fancy dinner or suffering through Twilight, on a beach or in snowy Chicago, we always have fun. Melanie + Willis 4-eva!, I would think. So when it was time for me to throw the bouquet at our wedding, I had a target in mind.

The target obliged.

Where's Willis?!

Get ready to go jewelry shopping, buddy!

See you all next year!

And apparently it worked, because last night, Willis presented Melanie with a sparkly bauble and now they're gonna get maaaaaaaarried!

I love you guys!

True Story

Back in 2007, when I was a page at NBC, I had a plum assignment at SNL.  As a result, I am now really annoying to watch the show with.

"That sketch must be on stage 3!" 

"That wig was designed by Louie Zakarian."

"Oh my god I just heard the stage manager's voice, that's totally Gina."

"Did you know SNL's the only show without a seven-second tape delay?  Holla!"

Etc.

Anyway, I thought I would share my best story, because I was just watching some (hilarious) Stefon clips with Bill Hader and oh, my lord, do I have a doozy of a Bill Hader anecdote.  So, here's my juiciest tidbit from my three-month stint at SNL.  

I was down on the 8th floor, right by the entrance to the stage, looking for some rundowns.  I backed up a little bit and stepped on someone's foot.  I turned around.  It was Bill Hader.

"I'm..." I began to stammer out an apology.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" he said.  "Sorry!  Sorry!"

Then he walked down the hall.

See?

Scandalous.

I hope he becomes the most successful man in the world.

Toast

ANOTHER TOAST ENTRY? SERIOUSLY? Meghan, is this just an excuse for you to practice Photoshop while you eat breakfast in the morning?

Ummm...

...maybe...

In any case, I got a new toy yesterday and used it on my breakfast. It is little and aromatic.

It is a jar of truffle salt.

Zoooooomg, it is amazing, it is basically like getting sprinkles from an ice cream shop in heaven, and I'm not going to tell you how much it was. Let's say it cost way less than buying a truffle but way more than buying a can of salt. Like, the dollar amount isn't bad but it's salt, so if I tell you that I spent $x on salt, which generally retails for eighty-nine cents a pound you'll be like seriously, unfollow, I am never listening to you again.

However, this salt is special and when you sprinkle such desiccated bits of truffle and truffle-scented sea salt on your morning toast, already spread with lavish quantities of good butter, things go to another level.

The whole thing is awesome. I highly recommend it. Next stop for the truffle salt, clearly, is popcorn.

Breakfast

Behold, the breakfast of champions. Or at least... of myself... from this morning...

EGGS ON TOAST.

When we visit Chicago, Dan's mom always makes us breakfast. Two of her specialties are very delicious breakfast sandwiches, and (this is the relevant item) bagels with an insane spread of toppings that covers the dining room table. These toppings include sliced hard-boiled eggs. It had never before occurred to me that you could use hard-boiled eggs as, essentially, sandwich filler, and I really liked it. So this morning, sans bagels and sans eighteen kinds of cream cheese, sliced veg, or even the bagels, I adapted it for my own purposes.

First, to hard boil an egg. There are different schools of thought but this way is the right way: don't let anyone tell you different.

Place eggs in a pot, cover with cold water, and turn the heat to high.

Once the water is at a violent boil, turn off the heat, cover, and set a timer for twelve minutes. Do not skip the timer step or I promise, you will screw up the eggs.

After twelve minutes, drain the pot and run the eggs under icy cold water. Should you want to peel them, do that under the water as well - the pressure from the water will help force off the shells.

Voila, hard-cooked eggs. When you slice them, the yolks should be fully cooked but a little soft, and the whites fully opaque. No gross green sulphur ring anywhere. No gross sulphur smell anywhere.

Toast some nine-grain bread, smear it with good butter*, and arrange your egg slices. SPRINKLE WITH SALT.

Make this someday and eat like a Meghan!

*on good butter: I used to make fun of food writers for championing "good" butter. Then I went to Ireland and realized I'd just spent twenty-six years topping my toast with yellow wax. If someone said they'd pay for me to go to Dublin but I had to spend the trip entirely indoors, in one room, watching cricket, but could ingest as much Irish butter as I wanted, I would do it. What I'm saying is, you should buy some fancy butter. Mine is from Ronnybrook, which is pretty good (where they really excel is cream; holy s*** their cream is amazing), but once it's gone I'll probably go back to the imported Irish stuff with the massive carbon footprint. Don't waste it on baking.

Important Decisions That Impact Things

I'm trying to decide which Game of Thrones character should wear this in the upcoming miniseries. Is it bad I still look at wedding dresses sometimes?

I think Cersei. She could wear it as a casual sundress, for breakfast.

image

FYI

I made egg salad sandwiches for dinner tonight, and they were de-li-cious. I had never even eaten egg salad before!

You place eggs in a pot of cold water and heat it up. Let boil; turn off heat; let sit for twelve minutes. Peel and chop eggs. Mix the eggs with: mayonnaise, mustard, salt, pepper, potentially sun-dried tomatoes and anchovy paste; spread on toast; eat.

I should make Dan learn how to do this. I'm trying to teach him something beyond PB&J and smoothies.

(His smoothies are really good, though).