The Sickies

I’ve only had the flu once. And not even the long, drawn out two week flu where you lose six pounds and get to gain it all back with pizza and ice cream. It was the 24 hour flu that takes your life away and gives it back, well, 24 hours later. I’m also not prone to the stomach virus. Everything I get tends to be in the upper regions. Post nasal drips and ear infections are my specialty. A little over a week ago I started to get the scratchy/wet feeling creeping down my throat, and as the day progressed I started to feel myself getting more and more congested. Naturally, these ailments always seem to happen during our busiest days.

Over the past year, I’ve taken a 70% homeopathic 30% medicinal approach to staving off sickness. Since this cough didn’t seem like anything unnaturally horrible, I decided that a few days of tea would be both soothing and delicious. Lucky for me, I had most recently Pinned a Martha Stewart Spearmint tea recipe. A bundle of fresh mint at City Market was three dollars. I already had agave on hand. There is always the odd lemon lying around the kitchen in some phase of freshness or decomposition. The cold was in the opposite corner, and I was about to come out swinging hard.

^^ Brave. Sad. This is how I often feel every time I get a cold. I’ve always had a flair for the dramatics 😉


Mint Tea


  • 2 tablespoons agave nectar
  • 4 ounces fresh mint (1 large bunch), leaves and stems
  • 2 strips lemon zest, about 1/4 by 2 inches each


  1. In a teapot or large measuring cup, combine agave nectar, mint, and lemon zest. Top with 4 cups boiling water and stir to combine.
  2. Steep for 5 minutes and strain.
  3. Serve hot or over ice.

The lemon zest isn’t entirely necessary—I forgot to use it the first time—but I think it adds a nice touch and makes it smell a little better. And, all you mason jar lovers out there, the tea is the perfect temperature after it has steeped for 5 minutes and sat for another 2-3, so don’t even think about putting it in some unsightly, bulky mug.

Drink this during the day to keep things “loose” and have some before you go to bed to make sure you don’t get stuck up. I knew this tea was the perfect blend for me when, after trying it for the first time, the next morning I woke up and expelled the most vile glob of mucus from my throat. Oh how the little gross things matter in the annual war against the common cold.

It’s not a 100% cure all, which is why I threw out the “red stool” (Aka: some Ibuprofen , Aka: Million Dollar Baby Reference) for some added reassurance. Hey, all is fair in love and war and colds.


Peel Away ❤


…and all we need is a fixed gear bike

#Instagram Because I’ve been too lazy to charge my camera batteries 0:-)

I’m going to pull the infrequently used hipster card out of my wallet and throw it down on the table. I was into mason jars before this whole craze blew up. I swear. Which means when people are throwing away their mason jars tricked out in lace designs and gold matte spray paint—geesh, blasphemy, why don’t we just start burning hotel Bibles or something—I’ll still be prominently featuring my non-bastardized version in the kitchen cabinet.

During the summer of 2011, when I worked at the Goodwill, someone brought in a bunch of mason jars, lids still intact, which I scooped up the moment they went on sale. They’re great glasses to have: sturdy, thick lipped to make Beyonce jealous, and rustic. They come in all shapes and sizes and willingly accept smoothies, leftovers, salads, spa water, and cocktails to-go. But never wine. Never, ever, ever wine. Whip out the good glasses for that! Though, you might be able to make an exception for sangria….

Lately I’ve been moving away from the  liquid-only mind set, and thus, the rumors are true, I have been spotted heating up ball jars of left over Thai noodles and nourishing quinoa meals. For class on Thursday, which I scampered into at the last minute, fending off a rough night of Le Vielle de Ferme Rose (13.5%) and a strong Vodka  Redbull, I sheepishly took sips of water from my big girl mason jar and preoccupied my woozy mind by tending to a regular size jar, which I filled with layers of tomatoes. Stacked in alternating colors, I salvaged these beauties from the reduced produce bin at City Market. Drizzled in a drop of olive oil and a generous helping of balsamic vinegar, I rotated the jar the between my hands to ensure even coverage. After a good two hours of soaking, I broke into them during the afternoon shift at my workstudy job. By then the world didn’t seem like such a bright, cruel place.