Let’s Pretend We Live Here!

You guys want to take an architectural tour of seaside California? Well, too bad, I do and you are coming along with me.

Last March Meg and her Mom went to California for a trip, and every day Meg took herself out on a morning stroll for about 2 hours and photographed scenic Corona Del Mar and Newport Beach. She and her husband eventually envision themselves in a cozy California bungalow, not necessarily by the ocean (because HOLY CRAP, they don’t call this the GOLD COAST for nothing), but in a more temperate
Northern California climate, where say her friend the Zadge might live down the road from her, and they would sit and sample wine all afternoon long.

Anyway, every day Meg crossed this footbridge:

It led to all the “flower streets” that criss-cross the Del Mar peninsula. Meg’s routine was to hoof it down to the beach around 8 a.m., where some mornings it was warm, yet foggy:

Who doesn’t love a nice walk on white sand, featuring salty air, people doing yoga, and friendly dogs?

Once Meg finished her beach aerobics, the sun usually started peeping out and shining on all the tiny enclaves of paradise:

I think this one above requires deep pockets. Still, the neighbors might invite me over for a cocktail?

Poppy Street had the best houses…..

And the coolest gates:

This certainly defined ocean view:

But Meg still likes a cozy courtyard with a heat lamp for cool nights!

Love the double bay windows!

Patio and fireplace? SOLD!

Patio and sundeck? SWOON!

Lighting, like these lanterns, were prominently featured on many patios, and glowed beautifully at nightfall.

Meg thinks you wouldn’t have to even insert a quarter here to see the views:

And when the sun starts to set, you can sit and contemplate this:

Meg hopes you enjoyed her tour, it’s certainly motivation for her to play the lottery and pray for her escape to the West Coast.


Pizza is Good Poetry.

Or a bad limerick.

Today’s blog was brought to you by Mama Kat, who challenged her readers to write a limerick. And yes, it’s not the best, but TOTALLY expresses Meg’s opinion on the state of pizza in Texas.

OK, she cannot lie, she has had one good pizza, but it will require her to stalk a mobile pizza oven across the Lone Star State. Hmm, she may just get her GPS out this weekend.


Recipe, Please.

Meg doesn’t often write smack about another blogger or their fan base, but she accidentally clicked on a Facebook timeline from the Pioneer Woman website and started to read the feed for fun. I gave up the ghost on PW a long time ago, but initially bought her schtick of being a real old-fashioned ranch wife. Baling hay, chopping pond ice, and slaving over a stove doling out beans for the wranglers workin’ the land.

Right. We all know she built herself a TV studio, hired a marketing team and got herself a little old TV show. A really bad one, but yeah, she’s on TV. Anyway, she has legions of adoring fans that drink her Kool-Aid, and Meg thought some of their comments were kinda funny.

Let’s start with this:

Jesus Janice, get with the program! She has HELP. As in lots of minions.

Jules, do you read her site and feed? There is shameless plugging of her alleged cookbooks, TV appearances, and her “Charlie the Farm Dog” books! How are you missing all this?

People, do you know a Bellini is like the national drink of Italy? And that PW did not invent a meatball slider or salsa? Do you guys know you can GOOGLE or BING all this shit and find it EVERYWHERE?

Meg hates to say it, but none, ABSOLUTELY NONE of these people would qualify for Mensa. In fact, I wonder if they really have computers or did they find some old Casio parts lying in the desert and hook them together with some old coat hangers and tin foil?

Aww. Was she drunk again Brad?

I don’t even have to go there. Also Mrs. Quayle, it’s potato, OK?

Here’s one of my favorites:

If you aren’t aware, the PW fan base is hell bent on bringing down the Food Network because they fired Paula Deen. I just wish the Greek philosopher Hippocrates was around to give a good tongue lashing to those Food Network hypocrites.

Meg has enjoyed sharing some of these comments with you; she knows her own fan base are all pretty accomplished cooks, and even adventurous. And you PW people, for the love of God, go get some cookbooks and magazines from the library and go explore the internet beyond the world of the two fake butter queens. She just knows there is a recipe out there for you.


The Shirt That Wouldn’t Die.

Ladies, do you ever have to act as the fashion police for your significant other? A co-worker, family member, perhaps a complete stranger on the street?


Why yes, I have deputized myself to criticize all things fashion.

Meg has. She used to work with a bunch of engineers that wore the same jeans every day of the week. Those pants could have stood up and compiled 64 bit code if they needed to. Don’t get me started on the Pink Panther sweatshirt on a 40 something man, or the klunky pair of heels paired with a TRACK SUIT on a clueless lady software developer.

Meg has seen it all, which is why she keeps such a diligent eye on her husband’s half of the closet. She curates his wardrobe, and often takes him shopping. Last month she managed to get him into Clark’s for shoes and Brooks Brothers for shirts.

Despite that fact, things like this still occur:

No matter what Meg does, her husband finds this shirt. And trust me, he has others that are so much better. She kinds of frowns when he grabs it, and he’s all like “What”? What’s wrong with this?”.

Meg is here to say striped shirts can only make you look like this:

That’s right boys, you look like Ben Stiller in Something About Mary. Maybe you get Cameron Diaz at the end, but you still look like a dork.

At some point Meg just might pretend she didn’t know what happened to the shirt, just like she did with some old running shorts that made her husband look like he was wearing hot pants. And I happen consider that an act of public service.