Taxes and Sanity

Sometimes I wish I had a home to move back to with someone there just waiting to take care of me. I wish my grandmother could drive me around in her smelly Buick. We would munch madly on fast food french fries, blast the air conditioning until our noses went icy cold and hum to Bach as it seeped from the stereo. I wish she could take me grocery shopping and shiver with me as we walked down the ice cream isle. With a serene smile, she would scan all of the flavors before reaching for the only suitable partner for her pie, French Vanilla. It would be nice if she could tightly make my bed every morning so that when my feet hung off the end they would be caught in the comforting cocoon of worn cotton. If she could braid my hair every night, swooning over the molasses highlights, heaven would exist for me.  This whole adult thing is really wearing me down. I’m tired, and it would be so nice if a sunny bedroom were waiting for me and loving arms were there to unburden me a bit.

Sometimes I wish someone wealthy saw huge potential in me and trusted their intuition enough to invest in it. Then Slice of Feist could spring from the skyscrapers and envelope the world. I could become a yoga teacher/nutritionist, open a wellness retreat, teach cooking classes and write books loaded with recipes and drool-worthy photographs.

And sometimes I wish I could just pick up my stupid printer and smash it to the ground. I would put on my cowgirl boots and crunch and dance all over the pieces. Having just completed my taxes, I am left me feeling bewildered and exhausted. Gazing at the depressing numbers, it’s hard not to wonder what I’ve done wrong. Can’t a girl just get a break so that she can go for it? Now the printer won’t print, I have eaten through half a bag of trail mix, my stomach feels icky, and I want to run in circles while wildly pulling at my hair.

Since “going home” isn’t really an option and getting older is inevitable, I just have to remember the importance of living one day at a time. As long as one lives fully, joyfully and lovingly…then one has succeeded. And who knows, maybe one day someone will drop by Slice Of Feist and decide to change my life for forever.

This fresh wedge of iceberg lettuce begs to have your tax aggression unleashed on it. It offers you a violently audible crunch, which is more cathartic than one can imagine. If you close your eyes and allow each chomp to rattle your brains, perhaps your anxieties can be numbed for a moment. Drenched in creamy homemade Ranch Dressing with a touch of cayenne and garlic, this salad is beckoning for you to rip it to shreds.

Ranch Dressing adapted from The Pioneer Woman Cooks


1/4 Cup Light Mayonnaise

1/2 Cup Sour Cream

1/2 Cup Buttermilk, or more if you want it less thick

Small Handful of Parsley, chopped

1 Green Onion, chopped

2 Tablespoons Fresh Dill, Chopped

2 Cloves of Garlic, Crushed

1 Tablespoon White Wine Vinegar

1/2 Teaspoon Worcestershire

Pinch of Cayenne Pepper and a dash of Sriracha Sauce

1/4 Teaspoon Paprika

Salt a Pepper to Taste


Whisk all wet ingredients in a bowl until fully incorporated. Sprinkle all of the spices and herbs over the mixture, and fully incorporate. If needed, add more buttermilk to thin the dressing out. Generously drizzle over wedges of Iceberg Lettuce and happily crunch away.

All photographs were taken by the ever patient Evan Lentz.


SarahLaP You always have a home with me dear heart. No matter where I live. And I’m always up for a little Bach and icecream (light on the Bach, heavy on the icecream).
I miss Mama too.

Kirsten Hey Sarah lady. Ditto! I forget how much I miss her, and then it just runs me over like a truck sometimes. Especially during tax season. I love you lots my wonderful sister.

Kristina @ spabettie I love a wedge salad – these beautiful photos look SO fresh and delicious!

Kirsten Hi Kristina! Thanks so much……this salad was D-Vine!

Cookie Keep dreaming your desires, Kirsten. They will all unfold beautifully for you. I know these things…..

Kirsten Cookie- Your comment put me at ease. I trust your intuition. Thank you.

Evan I will give you a hug! At home.

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