Apple Not Falling Far From the Tree Department

Julia "Maui Tan" Fredenburg here with a special report on mother daughter time. It being nowhere near her birthday and with Mother's Day long past, what better time for a salute to dear Mama? After all, there's no one like mother to me-- which is why I dismissed the whole "struggling to form my own identity" thing as whiny teenage rebellion and have wasted no time in becoming just like her! Below is a list of the ways that I've succeeded so far.

1. My mom and I go running together, with matching running shoes and a single ipod shuffle between us, playing the latest podcast of This American Life. Though I haven't discussed it with her, I'm willing to bet that she shares my crush on Ira Glass. I mean, he is the closest thing NPR will ever have to a heartthrob, and we Fredenburgs are put at ease by other people in quirky, thick-framed glasses.

2. We compete over whose shoes are more "sensible." Are those Danish clogs? You win this round, Mom!

3. We both fall asleep after a meat based meal watching English mysteries on PBS. Oh Poirot, but you are fussy!

Just A Bowl of Mush Away From Spiritual Fulfillment

For over a year now, I have been searching for oatmeal of the thickest viscosity to please my finicky, housecat-like pallette. Many experiments took place, with unsatisfactory results (might have accidentally made dog chow/low-grade explosives/brass polish/bootleg hooch/clear blue liquid gel/an improperly cited wikipedia entry). Just recently, though, I made a discovery: If I just boil a mess of granola the way I would normally cook oatmeal, then I get the desired consistency. Yum Yum! I have incorporated it into my morning routine, where it is taking the place of both a hamburger and an hour's worth of troubling New Agey rituals.

My message is simple: granola-cooked-as-oatmeal is not only a part of this complete breakfast, but might also be so satisfying to the part of you that craves spirituality (and acceptance!) that you might gain the strength to finally leave that money-sucking cult!

Namaste and Bon Appetite,
Julia

My Blackberry Pie: Welcome to Flavor Country

The other night I had a soiree to celebrate a blackberry pie I made. In keeping with the DIY spirit with which I perform all tasks (but especially tooth brushing), a friend and I picked each and every blackberry used in the pie! It took over 5 hours, and I withstood many injuries, and the friend I picked them with won't return my calls, but I think it was worth it. I wish there were pictures, but my photographer was too busy guzzling table wine to notice that my pie was the best thing she'll probably ever eat. Maybe when she recovers from her hangover she'll realize that my pie makes a Marie Callendar pie look like it was baked with all the artistry of a 13 year old boy in a home economics class.