Marmalade ‘N’ Cream Pops + Strawberry Cheesecake Pops

Marmalade 'N' Cream Pops + Strawberry Cheesecake Pops (recipe via thepigandquill.com) #popsicleweek #popsicles #icepops #summerdessert

I know. I’ve been hitting the snooze button on blogging pretty hard lately. But if there’s anything that can raise me from my chemo-induced slumber, it’s Billy’s annual #popsicleweek, which is like the ultimate summer pool party in popsicle form, minus the part where you slink into the water as slowly as possible because holy freezing tatas, plus a hundred or so inflatable swans. Or flamingos. Or whatever hip floatie is this year’s jam. (It’s a cactus, isn’t it? Fuck.) This year, I decided to honor Chris and my fave frozen treats from childhood with grown-up, lazy-girl versions that are as simple as they are nostalgic: a sweet and pleasantly bitter Marmalade ‘n’ Cream Pop for Chris (a less-sweet riff on the two-tone flavor we both adore); and, for me, a tart and tangy Strawberry Cheesecake Pop that’s just a teensy bit more sophis than my beloved Strawberry Shortcake bar (admittedly without the squishy crumb coating, which I kinda really dig). Both treats benefit from lots of concentrated fruit flavor and one-step sweetening thanks to good ol’ jam. Jam!!! And both come together with a few whirls of the blender, easy peasy. Make one or both and feel like a kid again. … Read More

#pinkdrink popsicles for #popsicleweek // strawberry + green tea + coconut milk + white chocolate

#PinkDrink Popsicles for #popsicleweek! // strawberry + green tea + coconut milk + white chocolate (via thepigandquill.com)

A reader once suggested that the journey to motherhood is akin to walking a labyrinth: a challenging 9-month route to the center, over the course of which that sweet babe grows in your belly, and an equally (if not more) challenging 9 month navigation back to the edge, or maybe more aptly the surface, where you can once again gulp the sweet air of independence and re-assimilate into the society you slowly retreated from, now a full 18 months later. But the thing is, at 18 months (or rather, 9 months out), I still wasn’t quite there. The air still seemed a little thin. Most mornings were clouded yet by a film of anxiety over what the day might bring. That distinct meness I craved with such fervor was still only just out of reach, tickling my fingertips — ghostly wisps of my former self waiting to be reabsorbed back into my modified being. And I let it linger there, in the ether, taking immense comfort in its proximity and romanticising the day when we’d be one again. Lana turned 14 months yesterday, and I can tell you: I think I’m finally there. Whole and happy and me. And not just me as in the new me, the mom me that … Read More