Pest-faux: Kale and Roasted Garlic Pesto

I’m in a chilly community center gym. The smell of burnt coffee, thick in the air, barely covers the stale sweat still lingering from basketball games gone by. Metal folding chairs groan with the tiniest of movements. I stand up nervously, my palms slick with sweat.

Hi, my name is Amanda…and I have a problem. I…I am addicted to beauty products.

Hello, Amanda! A chorus of similarly inclined individuals greets me.

While this scenario is completely imaginary, my affection for, and obsession with, beauty products is not. I often open my bathroom cabinets looking for something specific only to have different bottles, tubes, and jars come toppling out. Naturally, what I was searching for is nowhere to be found. Right there I swear to myself that I am done. No more. I am through buying these stupid things!

And then, one way or another, I find myself sidling up to the makeup counter. Again. Greeting an eager saleswoman while ogling the latest shade of eye shadow.

Or meandering along the hair care aisle. My fingers lightly tracing the brightly colored bottles. Fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, just begging me to buy yet another bottle of thermal styling spray.

But I don’t cave. I don’t. I think about the drawers in my bathroom, the stacks in the hall closet. Teaming with products I could never hope to finish in this lifetime, no matter how much hairspray I use.

Lately, I’ve been feeling that way about kale. I buy a bundle at the grocery store because it is cheap and delicious and filling. Yet, no matter how much I eat, no matter how much I sauté with garlic or throw in salads it is still there! Kale. Looming in my crisper drawer. The bunch never getting any smaller.

Swedish Visiting Cake

I posted no Thursday Things last week. There were no Things for me to post about last Thursday. Instead, there were doctor’s appointments, ice packs, and tears.

I woke up Thursday morning and could barely move. And when I did, the amount of pain I felt made me want to never attempt to move again. I didn’t know what was going on and I didn’t know what to do.

After multiple, painful visits to the doctor I was told I have a pinched disk in my neck, a by-product of the workouts that I do. The doctor gave me some medication and said that all I could really do was take it easy and wait for it to calm down. I was miserable.

Why I am telling you all of this? You don’t come here for my sob stories. You come here for butter and sugar and pictures of tasty treats that I put in my face. We’ll get there.