tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48145769429893187152014-10-12T22:25:27.943-07:00Side DishSide Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.comBlogger116125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-68176612336429274032014-10-12T16:14:00.001-07:002014-10-12T16:14:56.183-07:00Meeting Agenda<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="http://www.sidedishmag.com/search/label/Megan%20Samelson">Megan Samelson</a></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. STAFF CHANGES</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">bottom of the list</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">person in the pool</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">starting from scratch</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">shadowing shifts</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">variety in the life</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">shadowing shifts</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">letting go&nbsp;</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(of the edge of the pool)</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2.&nbsp;<a href="http://chicagoancestry.com/" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">CHICAGOANCESTRY.COM</a></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the code went bad</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">completely implode</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">good news bad news</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">super swamped</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">start to come together</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">beta testers</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">data points and polygons</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">exciting, yeah</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. REPLACING JOHN A.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">viable candidates</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Agnes is her name</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I have to raise an objection"</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">understood, understood</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">willing and planning</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">things went sideways</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“but she’s not crazy…”</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">no, no.</span></div>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-69827213233733336842014-10-10T05:05:00.002-07:002014-10-10T05:05:38.769-07:00wooded<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By Kimberly Walters</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ilya is russian? I thought it was french</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thought he was named<i> il y a</i></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">stop laughing, I am telling you this in confidence&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think my name has something to do with wood</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">as in: I am wooded</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">as in: spacious and obstacled</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and you</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(when you are inside my name)</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">are obstacled too</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">with clothing and dark</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can prove it</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">see</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">your eyes are becoming bedroomy</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">right this instant</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">your entire body&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">is becoming bedroomy</span>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-36382342169548272972014-09-24T18:20:00.000-07:002014-09-25T07:38:51.027-07:00Romantic Yelp Reviews of Area Woman in Her Mid-Twenties<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="#">Emma Martin</a></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Michael P., Atlanta, GA</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">April 2014</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5/5</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Wow! Blown away by this girl at first. Just so fun and easy to get along with. She can roll with whatever, too – errands! Bars! Video Games! Totally fun. She can't use chopsticks. Loved talking to her and spending lots of time together. After-the-fact found out she was introspective and articulate, but I'm not ready for that exclusive stuff. We're animals, ya know? But 5/5 stars!”</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nick H., Atlanta, GA</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">January 2014</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3/5</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Hard to decide what kind of experience I was going to have with this one. I'd read good reviews so definitely had my doubts. I was only in town for a few months, but she became one of my favorite parts of the city! We could spend hours in bed drinking coffee and talking about music. Not looking for long term, and she's easily hurt. Kind of weird that she serves cold red wine in the summer. Doesn't believe in democracy? Still reads my music blog, but doesn't like Ween. What does she do again?”</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Michael S., Boston, MA</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">October 2013</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2/5</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Won't make eye contact with me at the grocery store. Wish I'd never met her.”</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cole L., Boston, MA</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">October 2013</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4/5</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“We mainly used each other during tough spots, but this girl definitely doesn't know what she wants and played some head games. The conversations were great but she put me out in a cab at 3 in the morning after I finished her whiskey, without a kiss. What a rip off! I still come to her sometimes; she's cozy, if a little hit-or-miss. Friends.”</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nathan F., Boston, MA</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">April 2013</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2/5</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“DO NOT date this girl. She's assertive, which seems cool, but then she has all these opinions about how she wants to spend her nights and gets really worked up if you miss her birthday. Weird about drug stuff – don't know what's up with that? Would suggest radio silence instead of an email at the end – did not respond well to polite communiqué !”</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bryce S., St. Louis, MO</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">December 2012</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3/5</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Totally uptight. She seems like a chill girl but is still just a girl from the suburbs who can't chill if you ask me. She needs to lighten up and have a little fun. All I did was give, even though she could lose some weight and her “career” is a fucking joke and she was on my case all the time about whatever. Cut me off after a year, can you believe that? Put me out on the street with only the clothes on my back. Anyone seen her lately? She blocked my number.”</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">David M., St. Louis, MO</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">January 2012</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4/5</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Total dream girl, but really mean. Would recommend for someone who doesn't care about current events and keeps up with pop culture and subculture in voracious fashion. Hard to say what her end game is. Teased me mercilessly for being a week late on an album leak. Doesn't keep her promises but seems confused and not intentionally disloyal. Devoted and emotional, and a babe, but will cut you off without notice if she feels threatened. Sexually confusing and confused. Terrified of commitment but demands it unconditionally. Probably a great match for someone once she figures out what she wants. Small talk post-break up is shaky. Still hasn't figured it out from what I hear, but still a pretty okay experience, I guess. ”</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Did you find these reviews helpful?&nbsp;</span></div>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-84367941837497779552014-09-16T06:25:00.001-07:002014-09-16T06:25:26.839-07:00Vacancy<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By Vivian Elise</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I tried to write a long list of all your worst features</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Instead it became a sacred holy text in tribute to everything I ever loved about you</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Your shitty tattoos, your bruised legs, the way you cleaned your teeth when you were nervous</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-19267119007535053042014-09-01T13:09:00.002-07:002014-09-03T05:00:43.208-07:00A long red hair<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="#">Emma Martin</a></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Calm like the rocks past the final silken reach of the waves, and then within it</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Calm like the cat an hour after breakfast, fed, emptied, curled</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Calm like the dove on the wire at sunset</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Calm like floating, cooking, cooling with a new wave</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Calm like a long red hair</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Calm like knowing you can't</span>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-6990751881487684252014-08-26T08:22:00.002-07:002014-08-26T08:22:52.694-07:00High Seas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">By <a href="http://www.sidedishmag.com/search/label/Doll%20Hands">Doll Hands</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7GXKtkVYRbM/U_ylmbB5bVI/AAAAAAAAAR8/ECnDJo5Es8o/s1600/image.png" height="624" width="640" /></div><br />Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-44608992490530081172014-08-15T05:59:00.001-07:002014-08-15T05:59:19.782-07:00I would like to live next to the water someday.<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="http://www.sidedishmag.com/search/label/tinyseabeast">tinyseabeast</a></span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3187/2965333355_6c425122f7_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3187/2965333355_6c425122f7_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-49916812603747152722014-08-12T06:03:00.001-07:002014-08-12T06:03:38.206-07:00Wayne<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="http://www.sidedishmag.com/search/label/Snake%20Dad">Snake_Dad</a></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sometimes I dream about a place called Wayne Resort. It has large concrete columns that support a highway overpass parallel to the water, which creates a canopy over half of its beach. The acoustics under the canopy are like a tunnel, and the highway is three stories above. On the side of the hotel are large letters that say "Wayne Resort Hot." The “e” and “l” are missing from the wall where you can see they are burned into the paint. There's a concrete slab there (an old stage) and a guy who sits on it all day who looks like The Dude. He just tells people stories about Wayne Resort and how it "used to be the hippest place around, but now it's just, like, a travesty, man." He says the "missing letters got taken away in the tide because of rising sea levels…global warming *points to the sun*." All the wood siding on the building is rotted, which he says is also because of the tide. He says it used to be called Wayne Resort, but now "people just call it Wayne Beach because some a-hole took over the hotel and doesn't take care of it."</span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-61dkUqVPRpc/U-oPTIynWWI/AAAAAAAAARc/etCb5c57x0Y/s1600/dream1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-61dkUqVPRpc/U-oPTIynWWI/AAAAAAAAARc/etCb5c57x0Y/s1600/dream1.jpg" height="174" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In a previous dream, I was a bellhop in a hotel that had a high-traffic foyer where there was a giant hole in the three-step staircase that led to the lobby threshold. People were being pretty careless and not noticing it was there. Some were jumping over the hole. It looked like a mine shaft or a dried up well. I dragged a table in from the lobby and positioned it over the hole in the staircase. My boss came over and started yelling at me and pulling the table off from over the hole, but he didn't lift it before he started dragging it, so it fell in. A long silence later, we heard a crash at the bottom indicating the hole’s massive depth followed by murmurs and shouting and crying below that sounded like people getting upset. Then there was a commotion outside. I looked out the window to my right and saw a beach and ocean, and all the sunbathers were screaming and running away from being savagely beaten and eviscerated by mobs of pale-skinned, naked, blind people.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So anyway, this guy who sits outside all day is nice and pretty informative. Wayne Resort Hotel could conceivably be the hotel from the previous dream. The foyer of the first dream could have fit inside the building in the second dream.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I kept getting flagged down by this hot dog cart guy who was yelling, "Hey! Are you going to pay me?" He shouted at me several times. Next to him, a pale man with cataracts eating a hot dog was leaning against one of the columns. He looked like one of the sewer people from the first dream, only he was clothed and didn't seem to be killing people.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There were lots of people swimming around past the water markers, and there did not appear to be a lifeguard on duty to regulate this sort of thing.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SlHgjebpzSQ/U-oN4DVpmKI/AAAAAAAAARQ/U-W0RRU7Rfg/s1600/dream2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SlHgjebpzSQ/U-oN4DVpmKI/AAAAAAAAARQ/U-W0RRU7Rfg/s1600/dream2.jpg" height="317" width="400" /></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then came a gigantic storm. Half the sky was a swirling mass, and the other half was calm. People were saying how "this happens sometimes," and no one seemed to be alarmed. Then a lightning bolt touched down on the water past the markers, and everyone started panicking. It started raining, and waves were crashing everywhere. There were cars parked on the beach that were inundated with water, and there were people trying to drive up the sand and get up the incline. I almost got hit by a white Firebird. Cataract guy was pacing on the beach looking out toward the water even though I'm not sure if he could see it or not. He was holding his arms up in the air like an orchestra conductor.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On my way out, a police officer stopped me. He was standing with the hot dog guy who had told him I didn't pay for all the hot dogs. I was very polite and cooperative. He said, “That guy you were with, the blind guy, told me the dogs were on you." The policeman asked me to wait with him and hot dog guy until cataract guy came up the stairs. We waited for a long time, and it didn't seem like he was coming so one of the police guys went downstairs for a minute. He came back and said, "Did he come this way? He's not down there."</span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 15pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then I woke up.</span></div>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-19373924143321700112014-07-28T04:36:00.000-07:002014-07-28T12:22:21.340-07:00I might be wild<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="#">Emma Martin</a></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I might be wild.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I cut the purple trumpets off of the white hostas for you, but I don't know why. Tuck and I made piles by each of the plants - 6, 20, 34, three-foot stalks and lavender bells hanging on them, some pregnant and ready to burst, others wilted and sallow with their orange innards splayed out from the middle. Some, perfect, for maybe just this one day. Shiny white and purple shells, I collected them on the deck stairs not in defiance, but as an act of allegiance to myself, as I returned to the place of my childhood, my growing up, my jarring awake of myself, Glen Ellyn, IL, and its self-important, kale-based older sister, Chicago.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I think of having left here at the end of December, it was an airlift: a desperate attempt to pull me loose from two huge boulders on my descent into the cave. One, my idyllic upbringing, expectations, the culture of suburbia, which always made me feel put upon, and the anxiety I felt about knowing myself and being unsure how to act this out. The other, my future, more like a crystal skull, transparent but created by some mysterious intention other than my own. I reached my hands up and found that I was piloting a helicopter out.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At brunch, Ben, who had found his way to Chicago, was happy just to <i>be</i>&nbsp;here - on the floor of a Pilsen apartment, going to work in River North, meeting me for a quick brunch before I left. We talked about the world's oldest profession: placenta cook. I dreamt about planting a placenta and it growing a patronus. I'd like to be something as beautiful as a magnolia tree, but I know that my roots are an inch deep. I'm a succulent, after all. Not quite a tumbleweed. Ben is Lamb's Ears Byzantia, gentle and pastel, somehow still growing in this climate. This climate, inhospitable to me for years, but on my visit, 75 degrees and placidly sunny for days on end.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I might be wild still - or is it finally? - after all the cultivation, the landscaping, the transplanting.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was planted in the ground, and how strange to grow to be a succulent in a family of pines, in a land of roots - and how precious.&nbsp;</span>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-52557369907946101882014-07-09T06:48:00.000-07:002014-07-28T05:02:49.349-07:00Lake Fairies<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-CA">By <a href="http://www.sidedishmag.com/search/label/Amanda">Amanda Bondy</a></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span lang="EN-CA"><br /></span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span lang="EN-CA">Those are lake fairies. You have to try and catch them.</span></i><span lang="EN-CA"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This was something my mother's grandfather (who smoked like a chimney, had a thick French accent, who swore like a, was a, lumberjack) told her when she was young. He was talking about the golden light that tips the crests of waves, and it was meant to divert my young mother's attention for a few minutes. One day, my mother would tell me the same story, about the same light, the same waves. On a lake in Northern Ontario generations of my mother's family had spent their summers, or parts of summers, fishing and swimming and reading, and battling black flies and woodsmoke and the bare-necessities confines of a three-room cabin. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There's no other place like it on earth. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; *&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; *<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In a time long before I was born, some time around the Olympics or the Expo (so either '76 or '67; details get fuzzy and less important over time) my grandmother's (baba's) parents made the trip from Montreal back to Windsor and ended up in a then undeveloped area of Ontario called Hastings Highlands. I don't know if scouting cottage (or cabin, interchangeable, really) locations had been part of the trip, but that is when the tiny cottage on a tiny lake in a tiny town in an immense province became a part of our family lore.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“The Cottage”, as it came to be known, was one of only a few on a lake called Little Boulter—which adjoins a lake called Boulter and is actually the larger lake despite the name—and is much the same today as it was when it was first constructed. Wood panelling covers the walls, the same ancient and reliable Frigidaire appliances stand in the kitchen, newspapers from the '70s line the closet in the bathroom which holds blankets and towels worn from decades of use. The toaster (which makes a perfect slice of toast even today) stands gleaming in chrome next to the black rotary telephone that still operates on a party line. A wood-burning stove, a recent addition, supplies heat in the fall moths when the old orange fan heater won't sufficiently cut the chill on the linoleum in the mornings. The place is a testament to a bygone era—from the Audubon Society field guides stacked on the coffee table to the RCA radio standing guard on top of the kitchen cupboards to the Tiffany-inspired light fixture over the table. For me, a return to The Cottage is a return to a time where fairies </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">could</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> live in the crests of water.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The geography hasn't changed much in the twenty or so years that I've known it, and hardly at all in the time my family has known the place, but my perception of it has altered quite a bit over time. When I was small, the rolling hills of Crown Land that receded into the horizon across the lake, the towering pines that enclosed the property, the subliminal vistas from the top of the Beaver Trail in Algonquin Provincial Park, and the distance to the grocery store in town (45 minutes which stretched into what seemed like hours) all seemed beyond comprehension. Nothing seemed larger than a great boulder that stood beside the cottage—evidence of the glacial till that formed the lakes and landscape of the Canadian Shield—which my siblings and I and whatever family pet came with us that summer would clamber up at the end of every trip. My mother or baba would take a picture of us (one year shows my baby sister's knees covered in band-aids, my brother pulling a silly face, and my long hair pulled back and tucked into a ball cap.) That boulder grew with us, smaller as we grew bigger, but the presence of the rock was always a constant. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There's a story that one year, my grandfather and his father-in-law (the chimney stack of a Frenchman) went out into the lake in the canoe to fish—I say “the canoe” because along with the aluminium fishing boat, the red canoe with the wicker seats and the beavers painted onto the paddles has been around since the shack of a cabin was pulled across the winter ice from its first location on the other side of the lake. Apparently the canoe tipped, probably they tipped the canoe, and the fishing poles as well as the bait and some towels and a wrist-watch and a hat sunk to the bottom of the lake. The canoe and paddles were saved and both of the men returned to shore. I think of my great-grandfather's wrist-watch, at the bottom of the lake, the hands stopped at the moment the water gummed up the works of the gears, as another constant of the place. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For me, The Cottage has become a text of my childhood. I remember the first time I swam across the lake without a lifejacket, the time my dad took me out in the boat in the middle of the night during a meteor shower, the hours spent wrapped in old quilts at the end of the dock reading, learning to swim in the cold lake as an infant, the summer the lake was so warm the bass were lazy and you could catch them by hand—my few weeks of every summer spent there have been more important in forming my own values and identity (as a woman, as a Canadian, as a person who believes in the good in nature.) I hope to be able to share this place with my own loved ones one day, just as any person desires to bring their friend or lover to a special place that gives them a context for why you are the way you are.&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, as time passes and my grandmother begins to age and land taxes become less affordable and giant cabin-chic mansions are being built by wealthy Torontonians and the lake becomes less secluded and sections of forest seem to disappear every summer, I worry what will become of The Cottage. I fear that constant always-can-come-back-to place with the boulder and the wrist-watch and the lake fairies might not always be a place I can come back to.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; *&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; *<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the mornings, very early, before the sun rises over the hills in the east and burns off the night's fog, the lake is so still. Maybe you hear a loon calling in the distance, a breeze making the wind chimes dance. There is little to hear on a sleeping lake. You would pull on thick wool socks and wrap yourself in a blanket. Stepping out into the yard where the grass is sparse—you're not far enough north for that prickly scrub of the tundra—there may be a chipmunk jumping in the branches above you. The sun is warm on the skin that is exposed and you feel good. You throw a branch for the dog to chase after and notice smoke across the river—the family across the lake is starting the fire for breakfast. You'll want coffee, because the well water and old French press (or percolator) make the best coffee even out of beans you couldn't stand back home. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At The Cottage you'll always compare everything to back home—the way you sleep, eat, feel, think better, the way the milk tastes sweeter, how the clouds are faster and the sky bluer—and you'll recognize the magic of a place that doesn't seem like much at first glance.&nbsp;</span></span><span lang="EN-CA"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-39999690279597642392014-06-29T11:56:00.000-07:002014-07-01T08:59:21.831-07:00Salted caramel apple pie<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="http://www.sidedishmag.com/search/label/Tess">Tess Malone</a></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">There's a bag of fresh peaches on my kitchen counter right now. They're for a pie I know I'll never make. But I buy them at the farmers market where everything seems possible: a pile of heirloom tomatoes becomes bruschetta, a box of blackberries becomes the healthy breakfast I never make time for, and peaches become the pie you're basically required to bake during a Georgia summer. Yet I know even as I fork over my cash to the farmer that they'll languish on my counter until half rotting until I'm forced to eat them unadorned for breakfast, dripping juice all over my office keyboard. I'll never know just how good they'd taste drunk in sugar and cinnamon and enveloped in buttery crust.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Because I don't know how to make pie crust. Oh sure, it's just cutting some butter into flour, rolling that dough, flopping it into a pan and filling it with fruit. Except you only have a few tries to perfectly roll your crust, and the chance for failure doesn't make it worth wasting some butter and berries to me. So even as I willingly whip up my own cream cheese frosting and mix up funfetti cake from scratch, I buy Marie Callender crust in shame. And saying, "I'll bake you anything, but I don't do pies" has become my motto. In short, I'm a baker who can't bake the most fundamental thing.&nbsp;</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">For a while this didn't bother me because I was busy with other things like achieving my real goals: finishing grad school, finding a great job, moving to a cool big city. Now, I'm a master of journalism with an amazing copyediting job in Atlanta. What's next for a girl who has been overachieving since I put on my first school uniform? What do I want to do just for myself?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I want to go to pastry school...eventually. (After 19 years straight of school, I need a bit of a break.) But until I don a white apron as my new uniform, I want to conquer my pie crust phobia. I want to get over all of my baking blunders and fears: making caramel sauce, perfecting French macarons, kneading my own bread, churning ice cream. The oven's the limit, not my own self-consciousness and perfectionism.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">So here's to a salted caramel apple pie as my first big baking goal.</span></span>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-24112518956605845792014-06-27T08:27:00.000-07:002014-06-27T08:27:00.468-07:00I was never meant for this I was never meant for these things<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="http://www.sidedishmag.com/search/label/Ian">Ian Brady</a></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MEAvNVjGlhY/U6rqOGnrt1I/AAAAAAAAARA/ELcKAC772j0/s1600/image+(6).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MEAvNVjGlhY/U6rqOGnrt1I/AAAAAAAAARA/ELcKAC772j0/s1600/image+(6).jpeg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div><br />Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-81182466982929870662014-06-25T08:19:00.001-07:002014-06-25T08:19:21.149-07:00Balance, Tattoos, and Gertrude Stein<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="http://www.sidedishmag.com/search/label/Rose">Rose Truesdale</a></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g77WC3EeSOM/U6rn2iqzu8I/AAAAAAAAAQ0/HkXWe7Xi5HU/s1600/me_veg_girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g77WC3EeSOM/U6rn2iqzu8I/AAAAAAAAAQ0/HkXWe7Xi5HU/s1600/me_veg_girl.jpg" height="400" width="221" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #999999; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.02400016784668px;">A portrait of me (not really… but… right?) by&nbsp;</span><a href="http://neryl.com/" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #009bc2; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.02400016784668px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Neryl Walker</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #777777; font-family: 'Droid Sans', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;">I’ve written lots of posts on balance. Really, all of my posts are about balance in some right:&nbsp;<a href="http://rosieglowwellness.com/2013/08/14/the-rosie-glow-mission-a-sorta-serious-post/" style="border: 0px; color: #009bc2; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" title="The Rosie Glow Mission: A Sorta Serious Post">balancing healthful vegan eating and a whiskey-fueled social life</a>&nbsp;full of&nbsp;sparkle-friends who sometimes eat animals; harmonizing with the voices at odds in my punchy, flummoxed frontal lobe &nbsp;(FYI,&nbsp;<a href="http://rosieglowwellness.com/2013/06/23/on-being-a-stupid-girl/" style="border: 0px; color: #009bc2; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" title="On Being a Stupid Girl">one voice</a>&nbsp;is sort of raspy and sexy, if not a little lispy, and belongs to the Rose wearing a fringey minidress and platform combat boots, vice-gripping&nbsp;a bedazzled flask of her signature drink — Champagne mixed with gin — which is NOT a real thing, even though she’ll tell&nbsp;you that it’s almost a French 75; and one voice exclusively expresses itself via inflected&nbsp;meows and&nbsp;Twitter, but still manages to convince me not to leave my apartment a great deal of the time. You’s a persuasive bish;&nbsp;<del>Emily Dickinson</del>&nbsp;recluse-Rose.) But then there’s the third voice, thank you, Universe, who mediates: who sings mezzo soprano to their Macy Gray/mewling coloratura&nbsp;situation.</div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #777777; font-family: 'Droid Sans', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;">That voice belongs to me.</div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #777777; font-family: 'Droid Sans', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;">Several years ago, I promised my mom I would never get a tattoo. When I went to college, the rules were as follows: inking my unadulterated derma and&nbsp;putting myself in a position to EJECT ANOTHER PERSON FROM MY PERSONAGE/become a young mother&nbsp;were equivalent grounds&nbsp;for being yanked out of academia. I didn’t test this threat, and while I’m certain that my marvelous mom would rise to the occasion if I had prematurely become a mom, myself… I know she’s damn serious on the tattoo front. So. I don’t have any tattoos BUT, and I promise there is a point to follow… I’ve wanted the same tattoo since I was 17. It’s two stanzas&nbsp;from a Gertrude Stein poem called, of course,&nbsp;<span style="border: 0px; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I am Rose</span>.</div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #777777; font-family: 'Droid Sans', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I am Rose my eyes are blue</span><br style="color: black;" /><span style="border: 0px; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I am Rose and who are you?</span><br style="color: black;" /><span style="border: 0px; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I am Rose and when I sing</span><br style="color: black;" /><span style="border: 0px; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I am Rose like anything.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #777777; font-family: 'Droid Sans', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;">As a blue-eyed human named Rose who majored in opera performance and likes to meet other humans and gather tiny, self-defining truths about them, this incidental piece written by a literary genius (named Gertrude, i.e., not Rose) resonates with me — enough that I’ve forever dreamed of scribing&nbsp;“I am Rose and when I sing I am Rose like anything” in courier font on my left inner forearm, positioned horizontally 3-4 inches in from my elbow crease (not that I’ve given this any thought). However,&nbsp;a few years after I graduated with my dual degree in OPERA and POETRY (killin’ me, Gertrude) and relegated outright, literal singing to my hobby box… rather than, you know, my life’s work box… I decided that maybe Gertrude had steered me wrong; Brunhilde horns and an addiction to Mucinex did not make me “Rose like anything.”</div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #777777; font-family: 'Droid Sans', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;">It&nbsp;turns out, though, that singing&nbsp;<em style="font-family: 'Droid Serif', Times, serif; font-size: 0.9em;">in the abstract</em>&nbsp;does make me the most me. Expressing my voice; my honed and balanced voice;&nbsp;above those of the opposing Roses — because through years of trial and error, I know what’s best for me and I have opinions about what’s best for the world<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">&nbsp;—&nbsp;</span>has, indeed, made me Rose like anything. Cutting through the choir of black and white with a sound that is lush and&nbsp;gray and wiggly with vibratto: that’s balance. That’s how one&nbsp;<em style="font-family: 'Droid Serif', Times, serif; font-size: 0.9em;">becomes</em>&nbsp;a person, at least that’s how I’ve become&nbsp;<a href="http://rosieglowwellness.com/2013/09/24/the-rocks-that-i-got-on-making-a-diamond/" style="border: 0px; color: #009bc2; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" title="The Rocks That I Got: On Making A Diamond">a writer who sings</a>;&nbsp;<a href="http://rosieglowwellness.com/2013/02/08/the-vegan-thing/" style="border: 0px; color: #009bc2; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">a vegan who doesn’t judge you for your bacon habit</a>; a lush for green juice and tequila; a lady who likes to pen personal essays while her cat sits on her stomach&nbsp;as much as she likes to mack on boys in plaid in her hip, hip hood as much as she likes to paint strange little portraits in the company of friends making baubles out of raccoon bones and teeth (um, craft day was yesterday.) I know who I am because of all the extremes I’ve been at times too intimately familiar with, the experiences I’ve gathered like so many raccoon vertebra, the&nbsp;siren calls of identities that don’t quite fit. That’s how I found my voice.</div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #777777; font-family: 'Droid Sans', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;">So anyway.&nbsp;Balance. And Mom, can I get a tattoo?</div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #777777; font-family: 'Droid Sans', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;">XOXO,<br /><a href="http://www.rosieglowwellness.com/">Rose</a></div><br />Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-52103909004862295362014-06-17T07:09:00.003-07:002014-06-17T09:56:50.464-07:00On headbutts and flopping<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="#">Emma Martin</a></span><br><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If there is one thing most Americans can agree on, it’s that points are the most important part of sports. How do you know when you should be yelling, after all, if there isn’t a point scored every 5-15 minutes? What is a TIE, even? The World Cup is the anti-Super Bowl; it’s the anti-Home Run Derby. Soccer isn’t a sport you can play while overweight (shout out to baseball and football), and this coupled with the low scoring means it certainly will never be America’s Favorite Pastime. </span></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br></span></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The 2010 World Cup came at a time when I needed something to do, and let’s just say America’s Favorite Pastimes have never been that fulfilling to me (dogs and hot dogs notwithstanding), and Europe’s Favorite Pastimes (specifically, good haircuts and whining) waited with open arms in the form of World Cup soccer. So I watched, and I cooked, and I listened to my boys complain about the low scoring and the flopping, and I enjoyed the haircuts.</span></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br></span></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One thing I learned from World Cup 2010 is that you can make anything your favorite activity and you can usually persuade other people if you make chili. It helps if the new activity involves a </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_the_Octopus" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">fortune-telling cephalopod</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some things have changed since 2010. I have the same haircut, sure. Soccer players are still doing really profoundly dumb things to their beautiful hair. But enough has changed that I now feel like I have a few things to share about how to be an American World Cup enthusiast, a walking contradiction. Here are some tips for World Cup newcomers and people who are going to have to listen to me in person and on social media for the next month:</span></span></div><b id="docs-internal-guid-bb8eb0a4-aa24-ce0a-1334-ed2e66a5c8b0" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br></span></b><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1. Sometimes the best stuff happens nowhere near a goal. This was a lesson many of us learned from </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-KCbGAZRPQ" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Zidane in 2010</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (this video still makes me exclaim in a really guttural, primal way every time I watch it). Soccer may be low-scoring, but this cranks up the volume on other elements of the game, including red card-laced final farewells, mounting tensions, teams averse to yellow cards, and teams courting yellow cards. If you’re watching the goal, you’re not watching soccer.</span></span></div><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br></span></b><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2. It is equally fulfilling to root for the underdogs and to root for, say, Germany. I went into this World Cup really pulling for Croatia. Why, you ask? Because who else in Texas is rooting for Croatia? I love to be on the ground floor of a trend (or, you know, the only one wearing </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zubas" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Zubaz</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> in 2014). </span><a href="http://www.theguardian.com/football/video/2014/jun/14/brazil-croatia-world-cup-brick-by-brick-video-animation" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It turns out Croatia kind of sucks at soccer,</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> but with a little help from Brazilian friendly fire, they weren’t completely humiliated, and with a little help from </span><a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/mattbellassai/the-croatian-world-cup-team-celebrated-losing-to-brazil-by-s" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">skinny dipping</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, my fandom has been redeemed. </span></span></div><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br></span></b><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That said, rooting for a team like </span><a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/football/world-cup/10904100/Germany-v-Portugal-Thomas-Muller-scores-hat-trick-after-Portuguese-capitulate-following-straight-red-card-for-Pepe.html" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Germany</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, who are essentially the amazing, evil, blonde team from any children’s sports movie, is like choosing a team of wizards over a team of cats with blankets over them, and can keep your spirits up during the month-long chaos of the World Cup. I suggest selling your soul to at least one odds-on favorite, for your sanity. </span></span></div><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br></span></b><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. It’s fun to watch big matches in public, but it’s also fun to watch little matches while shouting alone in your studio apartment. I come to this piece hot off of a USA win over Ghana (which included the best 30 minutes of soccer I’ve seen so far this Cup). A big game where a lot of people are invested in the outcome (Spain is usually a good bet when the US isn’t playing) is a great way to inject some energy into your World Cup indifference ( , Stefanie and Adam). </span></span></div><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br></span></b><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, if you’re already kind of into watching the World Cup, it can be nice to lay on your couch in your underwear getting super invested in a Bosnian win (I was pulling for you guys). This might also terrify your neighbors, if you have thin walls. Live streams are everywhere, you tv-less modern men. </span></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">4. Enjoy the pageantry. It is popular among Americans to complain about a soccer practice called flopping. Flopping is when players dramatize their falls or trips to a sometimes absurd degree, to get yellow cards for the other team. It is basically the best thing that’s ever happened, but </span><a href="http://www.thewire.com/culture/2014/06/dissecting-american-soccers-hatred-of-the-flop-is-a-world-cup-tradition/372839/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Americans hate it</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.&nbsp;</span></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">While in American sports like football, it’s true athleticism to get a concussion, in the World Cup, it’s about striking the right balance between getting sort of hurt and acting like you are in the final moments of your life and you’ve been shanked by the other team. Enjoy this, America. It’s the drama of Game of Thrones, without the incest. Choose your favorite flopper. Practice flopping among friends. Beware, though, because American health insurance might not cover your flopping-related injuries (thanks, OBAMA). </span></span></div>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-7287405782424960212014-06-06T07:20:00.002-07:002014-06-06T07:20:42.263-07:00Stop drinking cheap beer<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="http://www.sidedishmag.com/search/label/Sandy">Sandy Caribou</a></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JtEZSIC6Bng/U5HNsc4YmrI/AAAAAAAAAPg/wpg69ZUQYQA/s1600/goals1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JtEZSIC6Bng/U5HNsc4YmrI/AAAAAAAAAPg/wpg69ZUQYQA/s1600/goals1.jpg" height="640" width="436" /></a></div><br />Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-27329835339575020322014-06-03T08:20:00.001-07:002014-06-03T08:20:10.629-07:00GOALS<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Happy anniversary to Side Dish Mag - 1 year strong, with lots of great contributors, stories, photos, poems, and messages. Side Dish was conceived as vehicle for a larger goal, to have an open and consistent space for the active minds of people like me - creatives with busy, not creative lives, in many cases - to have motivation and a place to share things they make. The idea was to make sure young adults with responsibilities and lives know the value of their imaginations and their creative engines.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Over the course of the year, I consistently get told, apologetically, by friends, acquaintances, fans of the mag, that they really want to and intend to contribute. I always say the same thing: we are here when you want us and need us. If a theme strikes your fancy, if you have something on your mind, if you have a week off, if you need an outlet after a break up, if you just feel it's time: we're here. All submissions are encouraged, considered, and run, for the most part, unaltered. &nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the coming year, send us your musings, your rough drafts, your iphone notes, your napkin drawings. Share the site with your friends.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This month, as a celebration of how far we've come, the theme is GOALS: Goals you've made, goals you've met, goals for which you're moments from claiming a trophy, goals for which the trophy and the finish line are equally ambiguous. Perhaps most importantly, we'll be accepting stories of goals you haven't attained, and the fallout, good and bad, from the feeling of failure.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks for all of your help and support! To many more.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Your fearless Head Chef,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Emma Martin</span>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-58454732778522431182014-05-22T10:53:00.003-07:002014-06-03T07:26:38.519-07:00Make 6: Ellen<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="http://www.sidedishmag.com/search/label/Ellen">Ellen Grafton</a></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here’s to the Ladies of the Internet<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wish the current version of the internet had been around when I was young. YouTube hair tutorials could have prevented me from spending several months of fifth grade looking like a poorly groomed cocker spaniel was perched on my head. And Urban Dictionary would have saved me from many mortifying conversations in which I asked my best friend the meaning of the foul words I heard on the bus. (My best friend was allowed to watch MTV, so she knew about that stuff.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But if I could pick only one moment to magically endow my former self with the marvels of the modern web, that moment would be an afternoon in Literature class. The teacher of the class was great. He was kind and funny and treated his students as intelligent peers without losing control of the classroom. One day I asked him why we didn’t have more female authors on our syllabus. It included a few—Barbara Kingsolver and Zora Neale Hurston are the ones I remember—but otherwise the list was overwhelmingly male. He said to me, “I’d love to include a few more contemporary female authors, but I don’t know of any others that could be taught in a high school class. Do you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was crippled by my own ignorance. My gut told me that those authors existed, but I didn’t have an answer for him. If I had been a more industrious or zealous kid I could have gone to the library and sought help. But if female authors were that easy to find, wouldn’t my teacher know about them? Maybe they didn’t exist.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Technology, college, and friends eventually gave me the answers I needed. These days my Twitter feed is full of smart female authors chatting with one another, my Facebook friends point me toward great new stuff by female artists and thinkers, and Tumblr connects me to other women who know that feminism is not a new f-word. But there are still people and institutions who say that the reason female creators are not reviewed, awarded, or represented is because they do not exist (I’m looking at you, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OsRHDdHsFo8">Becoming YouTube</a>). And so I have spent my “make month” launching <a href="http://ladiesoftheinternet.tumblr.com/">ladiesoftheinternet.tumblr.com</a>. Every Tuesday and Friday I post small odes to the women who make content that I enjoy on the internet. It is a message to me-of-the-past and any other girls that are searching: We exist. We matter. Here we are.</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-37749528672984827172014-05-12T06:50:00.002-07:002014-05-12T06:50:56.803-07:00Make 5: Rose<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="http://www.sidedishmag.com/search/label/Rose">Rose Truesdale&nbsp;</a></span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s May, Bishes.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But Rose, you say, it’s been May for over a week now…</span></div><div class="wp-caption aligncenter" id="attachment_3057" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; margin: 0px auto 10px; max-width: 100%; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; width: 910px;"><a href="http://rosieglowwellness.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/burrito2.jpg" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-3057" height="292" src="http://rosieglowwellness.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/burrito2.jpg?w=900&amp;h=292" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; height: auto; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; max-width: 100%; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" width="900" /></span></a><div class="wp-caption-text" style="border: 0px; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.4; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shhhh, Babygirl. Wrap that sh*t up.</span></div></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As this humble tutorial marks my first appearance in the lustiest month, let me explain:<a href="http://makethreesixtyfive.wordpress.com/2014/05/06/10365-on-supporting-women/" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">certain</a>&nbsp;<a href="http://www.edieandandy.com/" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">inspiring</a>&nbsp;<a href="http://www.sidedishmag.com/" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">pals</a>&nbsp;of mine are using the alliterative, assonant relativity (am I an asshole or what?!) of “make” and “May” to… you guessed it… make stuff! Every day!</span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I used to make these chard “burritos” all the time. They’re super simple, easily customizable, and better for your bod than Chipotle. Plus they’re in keeping with my renewed efforts to eat mostly raw — margaritas are vegetables in my book, though, FYI — and sometimes a lady wants a salad she can hold in her hands.&nbsp;Below, proof that we CAN have it all:</span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. Gather your burrito&nbsp;components like the little squirrelfriend you are. You’ll need a giant green leaf (chard or collards), something creamy (homemade guac or hummus or cashew cheese) and whatever fillings your tastebuds desire; hacked&nbsp;into&nbsp;bits or thinly sliced lengthwise to occupy the leaf-span of your wrap.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. File&nbsp;down the veins of your chosen leaf (poetic, right?) so that you can roll it up like a tortilla without its snapping.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. Time to assemble! Spread your creamy element of choice down the center of the leaf, then pile fillings on top, covering the length of your leaf in a light layer of yum.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. This is the hard part: pretend it’s some origami sh*t. Fold the outer edges of your leaf (3 o’ clock and 9 o’ clock, yo) inwards, covering your fillings. Then roll that puppy up from top to bottom — voila a green baby burrito!</span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5. Slice and serve… with a side salad if you, like me, are a glutton for green.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Truth: I’m a little embarrassed that my first legitimate make of this month is a burrito. I’ve been way too social of a butterfly lately, you guys — the past several weeks have been a flurry of whiskey drinks (those are also vegetables), bachelorette parties, concerts (Angel Olsen and Wolfmother!),&nbsp;<a href="http://nerdettepodcast.com/" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">podcast</a>&nbsp;tapings, new friends,&nbsp;<a href="http://www.choosingraw.com/" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">internet friends who are now real friends</a>, etc. etc. etc. Second truth: you know I got that social butterfly game, but in my heart of hearts, I’m more like one of those weird hairy caterpillars, and as such, I need to inch along artfully and be selective about how I spend my time with all the other bugs… at least for a little while. So…</span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m taking a brief make-cation! Like a staycation, but I’ll be making. And falling in love with writing again. And finishing some half-completed projects that I’ve left around the apartment to mock me. Also, I’ll be sleeping and farting around because&nbsp;THAT’S ALL PART OF MY ARTISTIC PROCESS, or so I tell myself.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love you all! You’ll be hearing from me real soon!</span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">XOXO,<br style="line-height: inherit;" />Rose</span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24.31999969482422px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(*Originally posted to <a href="http://rosieglowwellness.com/">rosieglowwellness.com</a>)</span></div>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-16540373332110074612014-05-08T08:35:00.003-07:002014-05-08T08:35:40.936-07:00Make 4: Soundtrack<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I listened to the Chicago Bulls intro music 6 times when I did my taxes - it was the only song that would do. What are the songs that get you pumpin' out the good stuff (productivity, bro)? Add your songs here:&nbsp;<a href="http://open.spotify.com/user/martin_scorlazy/playlist/22b8dB7BGrkFrM69Po0bUW">make</a></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="380" src="https://embed.spotify.com/?uri=spotify:user:martin_scorlazy:playlist:22b8dB7BGrkFrM69Po0bUW" width="300"></iframe></div>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-86976243086232376192014-05-06T07:36:00.002-07:002014-05-06T07:36:45.436-07:00Make 3: Tess<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="http://www.sidedishmag.com/search/label/Tess">Tess Malone</a></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some people have mental health revelations while reading self-help books or at their therapists’ offices. I have them while reading old issues of Vogue — the Kimye April issue to be specific — while half awake on planes. There was a personal essay about how procrastination was wrecking one writer’s life. He was his own worst enemy, but he could fix it by just discipling himself into a routine. A few pages later, a woman wrote about conquering her anxiety and alcoholism only to be told by her doctor that she was addicted to anti-anxiety meds. She realized that though the meds helped, she was also using them to compensate for bad habits — not sleeping enough, eating poorly, etc. And I realized half of my anxiety, my self-doubt, my occasional impostor syndrome, my obsession with what other people think spawns from dumb habits in my daily life that are all too easy to fix.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So here’s a basic list of things that I know make me anxious, and I need to fix:</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. Get out of this 2 a.m.- 10 a.m. sleep schedule. I’ve been justifying it with being overtaxed by my thesis and that it will be the last time I can get way with this, but I mostly feel groggy and like I’ve wasted the day.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. Stop binging on really rich foods once a week and then feeling like death after. I’ve been trying to eat healthier since January, and it’s worked so well that now burgers and fries kill me. However, if I were moderate in my burger binges, they wouldn’t make me feel so gross.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. Exercise more. This is something I plan to pick up when I move, but pilates and long walks are great but not enough. I want to break a sweat.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. Read on paper. I love social media and the Internet and connecting, but when was the last time I finished a book or even a magazine? I’ve been feeling guilt tripped for how much time I spend online, so maybe I could do it more wisely?&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These are all the things I’ve felt like I should be doing. Enough with the what ifs and guilt. Time to commit.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks, Vogue. Hey, whatever it takes.</span>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-54423579470506966732014-05-05T06:55:00.002-07:002014-05-06T07:32:05.251-07:00Make 2: Emma<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="#">Emma Martin</a><br /><br />Here I am, from my “laptop” (very loose collection of computer parts being held together by jars of various types – tenuous at best, etc.), writing during my first day of rest since, you know. Two weeks ago?<br /><br />Introverted and LOVING IT, my brain was squishy like a hacky-sack yesterday evening through this morning, from overuse, then social engagements, then alcohol. Woof.<br /><br />Today I focused on making my home livable and passable as the dwelling of an adult woman with all of her faculties about her. Right now, I have a kitchen full of delicious things that need to be made, not eaten straight from the fridge in the style of a teenage barbarian. I also have a lot of people’s leftover beer, in case anyone wants to hang out in my studio and have a hundred crappy beers. I googled “what food to make with cheap beer” and google suggested a million other queries, effectively shaming me for coming up with such a dope question for cool adults.<br /><br />That said, I did pull together a pretty great dinner tonight, which is my make. Imagine that it’s more triumphant and dramatic, because I was slithering out of an end-of-semester coma and had to clean everything in my kitchen twice. I give you . . . TURKEY TACOS.</span><br /><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4S0p_zpgwLw/U2eXNVnOENI/AAAAAAAAAPA/QPNYBKQ6dDk/s1600/IMG_2373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4S0p_zpgwLw/U2eXNVnOENI/AAAAAAAAAPA/QPNYBKQ6dDk/s1600/IMG_2373.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></span></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DxgRj4LbUlA/U2eXMXu7rgI/AAAAAAAAAO8/I-jsG0m5MmI/s1600/IMG_2374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DxgRj4LbUlA/U2eXMXu7rgI/AAAAAAAAAO8/I-jsG0m5MmI/s1600/IMG_2374.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Originally posted on <a href="http://makethreesixtyfive.wordpress.com/">make</a></span></div><div><br /></div>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-1323437973383574282014-05-01T10:45:00.003-07:002014-05-01T10:45:23.639-07:00Make 1: Sandy Caribou<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="http://www.sidedishmag.com/search/label/Sandy">Sandy Caribou&nbsp;</a></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Untitled" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2905/13893987520_5657f32a1d_z.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="header" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 2px; word-wrap: break-word;"><h2 class="me" data-syllable="make" style="color: black; display: inline; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;">make</h2>&nbsp;<span style="bottom: 1ex; font-size: 0.75em; height: 0px; line-height: 1; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">1</span>&nbsp;</span></span><span class="pronset"><span audio="http://static.sfdict.com/dictstatic/dictionary/audio/luna/M00/M0068100.mp3" default="http://dictionary.reference.com/audio.html/lunaWAV/M00/M0068100"></span>&nbsp;<span class="show_spellpr" style="display: inline;"><span class="prondelim" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">[</span><span class="pron" style="display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">meyk</span><span class="prondelim" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">]</span>&nbsp;<a class="questionmark" href="http://dictionary.reference.com/help/luna/Spell_pron_key.html" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-color: transparent; background-image: url(http://static.sfdict.com/en/i/dictionary/newserp/Sprite_New.png); background-position: -176px -215px; background-repeat: repeat repeat; color: #333333; display: inline-block; font-size: x-small; height: 16px; position: relative; text-decoration: none; top: 2px; width: 16px;" target="_blank"></a>&nbsp;<span class="pron_toggle" style="display: inline;"><a alt="Toggle for IPA" class="pronlink" href="https://draft.blogger.com/null" style="color: #999999; cursor: pointer; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; margin-left: 11px;" title="Click to show IPA">Show IPA</a></span></span></span></div><div class="body" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; margin: 0em 0px 0em 0em; padding: 0px;"><div class="pbk" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="pg" style="display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; padding-right: 3px;"><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">verb</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">(used</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">with</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">object),</span>&nbsp;</span></span><span class="secondary-bf" style="display: inline; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold;"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">made,</span>&nbsp;</span><span class="secondary-bf" data-syllable="mak·ing." style="display: inline; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold;">mak·ing.</span><br /><div class="luna-Ent" style="background-image: none; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px;"><span class="dnindex" style="color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-weight: bold; width: 28px;"><span id="hotword">1.</span></span><br /><div class="dndata" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 37px;"><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">bring</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">into</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">existence</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">by</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">shaping</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">or</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">changing</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">material,</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">combining</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">parts,</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">etc.:</span>&nbsp;</span><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">make</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">a</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">dress;</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">make</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">a</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">channel;</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">make</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">a</span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">work</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">of</span>&nbsp;</span><a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/art" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana; text-decoration: none;">art</a><span id="hotword">.</span></span></div></div><div class="luna-Ent" style="background-image: none; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px;"><span class="dnindex" style="color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-weight: bold; width: 28px;"><span id="hotword">2.</span></span><br /><div class="dndata" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 37px;"><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">produce;</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">cause</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">exist</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">or</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">happen;</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">bring</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">about:</span>&nbsp;</span><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">make</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">trouble;</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">make</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">war.</span></span></span></div></div><div class="luna-Ent" style="background-image: none; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px;"><span class="dnindex" style="color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-weight: bold; width: 28px;"><span id="hotword">3.</span></span><br /><div class="dndata" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 37px;"><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">cause</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">be</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">or</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">become;</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">render:</span>&nbsp;</span><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">make</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">someone</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">happy.</span></span></span></div></div><div class="luna-Ent" style="background-image: none; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px;"><span class="dnindex" style="color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-weight: bold; width: 28px;"><span id="hotword">4.</span></span><br /><div class="dndata" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 37px;"><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">appoint</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">or</span>&nbsp;</span><a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/name" style="color: #333333; text-decoration: none;">name</a><span id="hotword">:&nbsp;</span><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">The</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">president</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">made</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">her</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">his</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">special</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">envoy.</span></span></span></div></div><div class="luna-Ent" style="background-image: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px;"><span class="dnindex" style="color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1em; font-weight: bold; width: 28px;"><span id="hotword">5.</span></span><br /><div class="dndata" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 37px;"><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">put</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">in</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">the</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">proper</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">condition</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">or</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">state,</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">as</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">for</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">use;</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">fix;</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">prepare:</span>&nbsp;</span><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">make</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">a</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">bed;</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">make</span>&nbsp;<span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">dinner.</span></span></span></div><div class="dndata" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 37px;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-style: italic;"><span class="hwc" name="hotword"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="dndata" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 37px;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-style: italic;"><span class="hwc" name="hotword"><a href="http://www.edieandandy.com/2014/05/make-1.html"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">READ MORE on EDIEANDANDY.COM</span></a></span></span></div></div></div></div>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-81890297113162094802014-04-26T17:13:00.001-07:002014-04-26T17:13:26.873-07:00MAKE<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last year, I wrote a <a href="http://makethreesixtyfive.wordpress.com/">blog about my 365 day challenge</a> to make something new every day. I produced some glorious things: an officiators license, a turkey, more than a few paintings for money. I also produced some dismal things: burnt kale chips like 40 times. ONE DAY.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9JCaMU_VN0E/U1xKr8WFhVI/AAAAAAAAAOs/zql7cwG8_zI/s1600/picstitch-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9JCaMU_VN0E/U1xKr8WFhVI/AAAAAAAAAOs/zql7cwG8_zI/s1600/picstitch-2.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My second make challenge begins tomorrow!<a href="http://makethreesixtyfive.wordpress.com/"> Follow me here</a>. In honor of the opportunity to pun on the word May, Side Dish's theme is MAKE. Some of our writers will be trying to make something every day for a month (and tweeting about it). Some of our writers will be intimidated, and will get sleepy and we'll see them in June.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you've been waiting to submit to Side Dish, this is your chance! Make is about small challenges and hilarious, inspiring, devastating, transcendent results. Take a stab at it!</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Emma&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">MAKE</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">-- a call to action. Submit projects - artistic, practical, mental, physical, imaginary, unfinished, destroyed -- in all of their wonderful forms.&nbsp;<a href="https://twitter.com/search?q=%23make31%20since%3A2014-04-26&amp;src=typd">Follow&nbsp;</a>our writers as they try to make something every single day of May.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We are also accepting and LOVING tales about making - your pants, love, a grave error - or makers.&nbsp;Share your stories of creations and creators, or share your projects for #make31. We are accepting your writing, art, anything, relating to the theme of things we hide away. To submit just email: <a href="mailto:sidedishmag@gmail.com">sidedishmag@gmail.com</a></span><br /><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://twitter.com/sidedishmag">Tweet tweet</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/sidedishmag">Face the nation</a></span></div>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-27079595158612836122014-04-25T15:36:00.001-07:002014-04-25T15:36:53.106-07:00A Love Kept So Secret, It Never Happened<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="http://www.sidedishmag.com/search/label/Megan%20Samelson">Megan Samelson</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wYVSJDNTQrY/U1ri1k9kWHI/AAAAAAAAAOU/0IBp1AN3_JY/s1600/DSCN1503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wYVSJDNTQrY/U1ri1k9kWHI/AAAAAAAAAOU/0IBp1AN3_JY/s1600/DSCN1503.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c1ZeGef3Bls/U1ri7xnB84I/AAAAAAAAAOc/xiVXgYdOYLg/s1600/DSCN1498.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c1ZeGef3Bls/U1ri7xnB84I/AAAAAAAAAOc/xiVXgYdOYLg/s1600/DSCN1498.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814576942989318715.post-37369883655241301522014-04-08T06:00:00.000-07:002014-04-08T06:00:05.972-07:00Ten Amazing Secrets About Lists of Secrets<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="http://www.sidedishmag.com/search/label/Ellen">Ellen Grafton</a></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. Adding numbers to mundane facts makes them compelling.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. People like to procrastinate.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. Nobody fact checks numbered lists from the internet so long as they are&nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">quirky enough to remember and plausible enough to believe.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. Unusual uses for household objects are not secrets.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5. Instructions for how to turn a scarf into a belt, a shirt into a dress, or a pair&nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of men’s basketball shorts into a one-shouldered dress are not secrets.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6. Adding avocado instead of mayonnaise to a sandwich is not a secret.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7. An observation paired with a GIF is not a secret.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8. A secret is something your best friend whispers into your ear on the&nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">school bus. A secret is something your lover says very quietly from the&nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">pillow next to yours. A secret is a moment of quiet beauty you observe&nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">when you are alone, and you know that you will never tell anyone about it.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">9. Those secrets will never be published by Buzzfeed.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">10. This list contains no secrets.</span>Side Dish Maghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05180137069394302542noreply@blogger.com0