with silver bells & habanero peppers, part 2

I still have a garden! I will make it through the summer or die trying.

The good news!

We have...

For the record: I way over-edited the images from the last garden post. And immediately I decided I hated them (but had done too much work to re-do the post) - so these are completely unedited, with the exception of the captions (which I did on Over). My strawberries are that gorgeous.

The bad news!

I'm struggling with the rest of my flowers. My lobelia, once a gorgeous globe of blue & white, is now just brown. Perhaps its because I didn't de-bud it fast enough and now I cannot catch up. Or can I? If I were to take off all the dried out buds, would it stand a chance? Because I'll do it. I have some free time.

My gorgeous dahlia that has already had it's own blog post and half a dozen photo shoots seems to be fresh out of buds. sadtrombooooone. I keep watering in the hopes that it'll bloom again, but it is making no promises.

My bell peppers are either the slowest maturing plants ever, or they are not going to make peppers. I cannot tell. I'm not giving up on them yet. But their buds are small and they don't seem particularly interested in blooming.

Things I'm learning!

Stop being so gee.dee impatient with the strawberries, son. They have to be total ripe before they taste like anything but sour death fruit.

This Chicago summer has been brutal. My once-a-day watering might not be cutting it. I'm going to kick it up to two days while I can but I'm nervous about how the plants going to fair while we're out of town.

Cucumbers were a bad choice. They need to be able to run free and cannot be contained by a window box. I'm getting these tee-tiny baby cukes, which are worth the cost of the plant in adorableness but I'm nervous that they are not going to get much bigger before they die.

Basil goes in EVERYTHING! And if you can't figure out how to get basil involved, make pesto! And if you're bored with pesto, add an avocado and make creamy pesto! But you will always have more basil and it will never ever die.

Banana peppers don't taste how you think they taste until you pickle them. So, get on that! Pickle some peppers, peter piper. (I am so scared of canning that even though I've bought the cans, they might never come out of the box. Luckily, the internet has some fridge canning options that I'm going to try out with this first batch).

Also this!
Years ago my friend told me that when a woman turns 30 she has a baby, buys a dog, or starts a garden. I'm noticing a lot more veggie-pics these days. -- (posted by a friend on facebook.)

The babes of summer.

I really, really like babies. Always have. It comes from having lady parts, being the oldest of a whole gaggle of cousins, and general enjoyment found in nurturing and small victories (please note: any one of these qualities individually or all three together do not necessarily make a lover of the babies. I'm just saying it worked out with my particular chromosomal make-up).

Before this year, babies were something that grown-ups had: my aunts, my parents' friends, my very, very old and mature older cousin. The people who were my age who had babies were so far removed from my day to day life that they felt like foreigners that I just observed through the window of facebook.

During my recent sojourn into unemployment I got hooked up with some amazing baby-sitting jobs. Truly, the kids I spent time with were some of the best companions I could have asked for during this very strange and out-of-character time in my life. Not only did they provide moments of humor and pride, they also gave me a peek into what parenthood might be like (obviously, not completely as their parents always, thankfully, came home, but like a tee-tiny peek). For some reason baby-sitting at the age of 28 made parenting seem like a much more real concept (rather than something that people have done when they have given up on their own lives and so need something to occupy their time).

This experience coincided nearly perfectly with the announcement that two of my favorite humans were incubating two of the newest, greatest members of the human race right there inside them. The wait for these babies to incubate has seemed nearly endless, but now, some how, it is ending and within the next week or so these babies will be real humans, rather than just cute-in-theory parasites.

The excitement I am feeling about these two amazing events nearly makes my lungs explode. I cannot wait to be a part of these two new lives that are justabout to start. Both babes have lucked out in the amazeballs parents department but I am on the edge of my seat waiting to be a source of entertainment, love, and poop removal for these two.

This excitement-beyond-excitement has brought the real notion of parenthood into incredibly harsh perspective. With so many parts of adulthood (read: marriage) it has always felt like something that I would probably not be good at, I'm too selfish, too greedy, and lack the patience needed to read "Elmo's Big Day," four hundred times in an afternoon.

Now, I know that I could do this. I could be a parent, but the question is - do I want to? Do I want to be responsible for a real, actual human being? Would I set way to high of standards for her as person and me as a Mother? Do I want to give up a life of fancy restaurants and frolicking about the country like IDGAF?

I honestly do not know. But its something on my mind, Internet. And in this breath before the most-exciting-adventure thus-far in adulthood comes before me, I get to take a moment and be so thankful that I know two great women who are going to jump in both-feet-in-the-deep-end and tell me how the water is, before I have to make any choices.

To being a loving by-stander and hander-of-burp-clothes in this next adventure of life!

TYOE: New York

The whole time we were in New York over the weekend, there was a little voice inside my head just repeating, "this isn't your city. This isn't your city," the voice hurt my heart as I had to accept that it is telling the truth.

New York was my city. It was mine. mine. mine. for the last year of high school as I planned to make it my home, and the four years I lived inside its harsh and overwhelming boundaries, and even after I moved away for the longest time - it was the city of my soul. 

And now? It's not. It's a city I love and will always cherish as a part of my story but it is not my city anymore.

That realization was a cloud over the gorgeous sunny weekend. It was like spending the weekend with an incredible attractive ex. I spent so much time and energy picking it apart so I wouldn't feel so bad about it not being mine anymore.

That being said: we had a super fun weekend. It was a weekend of firsts for me which is always a nice surprise from somewhere you have know for so long. 

What We Ate:

'wichcraft. I am a huge fan of Tom Colicchio from his lovable but tough turn as the Tim Gunn of Top Chef. But I had never eaten any food he created (designed? managed? idk). And the results were a little disappointing. Maybe we should have gone to Colicchio and Sons and gotten the real deal - but seriously?! It's a sandwich, it should be fool proof. And it was just kind of bland. It lacked (as they say in the biz) a strong flavor profile. Would I eat it again? Sure - but only if there was some sort of apocalypse and I had no access to any other sandwich option on the island of Manhattan.

L'arte Del Gelato. Gelato on high line park. I gotta hope this is what heaven is like.

Yankee Stadium Brother Jimmy's. gimme all your fried pickles. And I will eat them. And I will be mostly content.

Nathan's. Did you know the coney dog has nothing to do with Coney Island? It's cool - you'll still be happy with your chili cheese dog. 

El Salvadorian Truck Food. The Red Hook food truck party means business. It is for the real hipster food truck snobs and it is amazing. We got a sample platter with all the sides, plantains, paposas and a tamale and it was a delight. 

Old School. Brunch is the best worst thing that ever has happened to me. Easily my favorite meal but the one that requires the most logistical planning. My hatred of waiting for food makes it such a challenge to have an enjoyable brunch experience - luckily this place had no line and no wait and that gave it enough points to make up for the fact that they didn't understand Anniebelle when she requested "toast." Seriously?! Hipsters.

Milk. The cereal milk milkshake was so strange, but I do not regret it. Two days later I still don't know how I feel except, ok.

What We Did:

High Line Park. Oh. Like when your ex gets an amazing hair cut that changes their whole face and makes them indescribably sexier. The High Line Park is the stuff of my dreams. Everything about it makes me love it a little bit more.

 

Yankees Game. My first Yankees game! It was a baseball game. Over priced everything. Hilarious people watching and some out of tune singing. And they won! Which is always a good bonus. Plus on the ride home, we were idolized by some sweet lady from back-water Texas. She was so impressed we could live in a place where we traveled underground all the time..

The Mermaid Parade. So fun. I love a good meaningless excuse for adults to dress up. 

The NDI final show. When I think about what I really, really want todo when I grow up - being a part of this organization is near the top of the list. The show was the perfect way to spend a very hungover Sunday afternoon.

I love New York so much, and I am so happy that we got to spend a great weekend. I am so thankful to sweet Anniebelle for being an amazing hostess. I cannot wait to repay the favor and show her around my new mainsqueeze - Chi-town.

Joy.

I love:

Parades.

The Blackhawks.

Chicago.

Confetti.

Summer Joy.

Dahlia, Dahlia quite fancy...

I know I wasn't going to post about gardening again until next month but check out these blooms, y'all!

They made me so happy this morning I picked them immediately and brought them to work in a juice glass. They make up for the fact that the perfect strawberry I picked earlier this week was easily the sourest thing I have ever eaten.  

For the record - this picture is totally unfiltered. They are exactly that amazing orange-pink combination. I love love love them. Also, for the record, this blog has had 3 different pictures, because I was not satisfied with them...until this one...for now.

Happy Summer! Happy Blackhawks! Happy noma' DOMA! Happy Happy!

Letter to a younger girl.

Dear 13 Year Old Rachel,

Hey! I just wanted to drop you a note and tell you during the summer before you turn 29 - things are going to be pretty great. In fact, I would almost venture to say that you got nearly everything you wanted. It looks a little different and you'll be surprised by some of the things you've found happiness in, but just go with it, because it will all start to make sense eventually.

You live in a city full of tall buildings. They aren't the tall buildings you thought you would be surrounded by, but you will come to love them as your very own. As every day goes by you will wonder if it would even be possible to walk away from them at this point.

You have a job that is hard. Its really hard. You're going to doubt yourself most of the time, but you'll also have moments of great pride in the fact that you have built the beginnings of a little career for you. And at this point, you are making it really easy to take one of seven or eight little roads in the future. Plus you make some decent dollars. Enough to splurg on absurdity like a Kate Spade wallet and a new computer.

And! You have another job that is also hard, practical and rewarding that pays some sweet dollars when you need them. And you're writing. For living. Margaret Atwood, you are not - but that college degree is offiially useful. Wow!

You own your very own cat. She is the best and so pretty. You only get a little bit mad that she refuses to poop in the litter box.

There are so many people you call your friends. There are so many smart and lovely women who act as sounding board and perennial cheerleaders. Men who prove that there are great guys out there. People who live far away, and literally one block away, who make your life richer for their experiences and beliefs. Sometimes you sit around and think about how amazing your social circle is and it makes you embarssingly emotional. You'll wonder if its weird to sit around and get teary about how lucky you are to know the people you know.

You get to call your family friends, too. You miss them all so much. You're grateful for the ones who live close and treasure the moments you get to spend with those further away.

The big dream that you have, it's still there, but its evolving to be a realistic version of it. This summer you will stand on stage and people will laugh because you do the thing that makes you the happiest. How awesome is that? You're doing it. You're finding happiness and bringing people joy. Win.

Bonus points? You can take classes at the Joffrey Ballet whenever you want. You don't, because now it's too accessible to be special, but with any luck - you'll take those new black ballet shoes for a spin sometime soon. Get it on, pretty ballerina.

Sometimes you'll forget that you actually live in your house. Its not a big game of playing house. It actually is your house. Your green dining room and yellow office. Your little garden and absurd closet. It's yours. Like a grown-up with a dream apartment.

And you get to live in it with your best friend. You will have no idea that this is coming. It will knock you sideways the summer before you turn 24. But you did and you're finding your way together. It is a constant changing experience of trying to figure out what you both need and want out of this life. Sometimes it easier. Sometimes it is the hardest thing ever. No one will believe in you more than he does - and realizing that will overwhelm you. Plus he accepts the fact that you are always gassy.

You've lived through some really terrible things. And you wish you hadn't. And sometimes you get just so. sad. But you will recognize their value as they help you recognize how important it is to be grateful for what you have been given to enjoy.

So 13 year-old Rachel, try to remember to enjoy this summer before you turn 29. Be tired sometimes because you spent too much time and too many brain cells on celebration. Save some money, but make sure you spend some on dresses and champagne. Have fun traveling, and with the new babies, and making Chicago summer memories.

Love,
Almost 29 year-old Rachel

ps - You will never get taller. Sorry.

pps - You still can't spell. Thankfully, in a couple years, there will be spellcheck on every device you use and no one will have to know.

A pickle bowl - the Target sagas.

Guys. I've talked about Target before, but seriously?! This is a problem.

I went to Target with the express purpose of getting a gift card. One gift card, go directly the lady at the cash register - do not pass the dollar deal bins, do not collect an assortment of crap. Well, clearly, this did not go as planned. Here is what I came away with:

Bananas - okay. This is something we need. We're only home for 4 days this week, so we aren't buying actual groceries, but I discovered this morning that without a banana, I am fairly useless until lunch time.

Bath Poof - again, somewhat necessary. My current one is about to become just a big old pile of unconstrained netting. And were that to happen in the midst of a morning shower, the day would be pretty much over before the sun came up.

Granola Bars - clearly, I was starving. After a weekend in New Orleans, a day of my normal "let's lose weight without working out," diet was not cutting it. By the time I got to target I was about 2000 calories in the red and I got panicky. Like there might be some sort of cataclysmic event before I could get home to my lean cuisine and I would need rations.

Baggies - all the baggies were on clearance. Why? Who knows? Is it because they all have holes in them or are full of toxic off gases? Don't care. I will buy those off-brand-red-stickered baggies and I will put left over potato salad in them because I am an American.

Pickle Bowl - guys, its no secret that I love pickles more than most human beings. And I like to serve them to guests and I don't want to take the chance that I'll put out an offering of delicious pickles and people won't know what they are or something terrible like that. Thank the Little Baby Jesus that someone at Target had the common sense to make a bowl that said pickles so that when I put pickles in it my dumbass compatriots will be like, "oh, pickles?! wuuuuurd."

??? - I literally have no idea what is in this jar. It had a pretty brown-haired lady on it, and a red sticker so it was a done deal the minute I cruised by it. I'm not sure what I am supposed to pour this into or on top of or if I'm just supposed to shoot it with a salsa chaser. I guess we'll find out. Or we'll put it in the pantry and move it into four different apartments before we just put it on eggs. Anything goes on eggs.

Gift card - Guys. Don't ever say I don't get ish done. I get it done. I get it done to the extreme. When you need something done, you call me, and I'll get it done and I'll bring my own baggies.

Okay, but seriously, stop letting me go to Target.

with silver bells & habanero peppers, part 1

It all started with a need for produce.

When I worked at the circus, I had the illest produce hook-up. It was plentiful, it was punctual and it was free (well, except for payments I made in pieces of my soul).                                   

After leaving the circus I was unable to figure out how to get my bean-and-berry hook-up. Go to the grocery store? Nope. No way dude. YOU go to the grocery store. 

After a winter of surviving on frozen, tasteless misery that was shaped like vegetables, I decided it was time to buck up and hitch my wagon to the cheapest veggie scam I could find.

Luckily, Cougs was on her way to Chicago when I got the brilliant idea to plant myself a garden and she was able to help me get through the first steps (like buying a trowel) without anyone getting hurt.

Now it's been a month - and I am so gd. impressed with myself. I made things grow! Look at me!

Let's take a garden tour! (This is more for Cougs. than anyone else - but its the internet, and I do what I want).

I am so amazed that everything is alive still (with the exception of one tomato plant -unpictured- which, sadly, did not stand a chance). For some reason, the knowledge that fresh things are within my grasp is enough to keep me watering and checking and miracle growing like a good little plant mom.

While I would not say that any of my fingers are green, I am, clearly, full to the brim of pride over keeping all these little guys alive. And now that they are starting to actually show the promise of being edible in the not-so-far future, I'm starting to understand why people do this.

Growing veggies is one of those things that feels very grown-up. Like having a job in a tall building and making plans more than 6 hours in advance. Like making dinner more than two nights a week and waking up before 8:00 a.m. almost every Saturday. Slowly these grown-up things seem to be taking the place of all the things that felt so normal.

In an effort to not be too practical, I also have some very lovely flowers. When they bloom I feel like a frickin' magical fairy princess. I made you bloom with my long flowing locks, my sweet disposition, and my magic. Bloom you stupid, gorgeous flowers. Bloom.

Sadly, the dahlia that should be visible in the middle picture is between blooms right now. Which is a damn shame, because it is the prettiest. See you for part 2 in July.

Nola night

I am lying on this pool deck chair. The weather is the most perfect its been these past two days. When the sun is down, New Orleans June is almost bareable.

I am full of Krispy Kreme bread pudding and cheap daquiri. I am boozy sleepy. 

And I am nearly packed to the brim with stress. Stress that I am not doing enough, that I am wasting this vacation time. We should be out drinking or walking. We are not go do see -ing anything. And this makes me anxious.

Until I remember that vacation can be this too. Vacation can be sitting quietly at night and nap taking during the day and nothingness sprinkled through. 

When did my life get like this? Is it because this is a "new" place that I feel obligated to strangle as much out of it as I can?  We now take vacations with to-do lists, saving all our idleness for the trek to Nantucket where you would be a fool to do much more than sit on the porch with a book. Why is that? 

Something to ponder while me and the rest of my white people problems fall asleep at 9:30 on a Saturday night.

The earring thing.

Today was hard. Everything about it was an uphill battle dragging 50 pounds of fear and beaurcracy behind it. Today was the first day I felt real, genuine fear that I might fail at my job. For the first time ever I might be given a task and not get it done.

And then while rushing to get to the next hard, unhappy thing I lost my earring. 

At this point I don't have any "any old jewelry," every single piece has a story and most of those stories are so recent that I can remember ever piece of them. So to lose something that not only had a wonderful story, but a story that was less than three years old, was more than my soul had the capacity to handle.

And the universe knew this. The universe knew that my heart could only handle one giant turd today - not two. Because when I retraced my hurried steps an hour later, my earring was there - at the corner of Milwaukee and Chicago. Waiting patiently for me to come back for it. 

So. That was my day. Nothing but tears and anxiety but with the smallest glimmer of hope that things will be just fine at the end of it all.

More. MORE.

Blog more, Self.

Blog instead of checking facebook, or falling asleep at 9 PM, or eating that extra scoop of ice cream.

Blog, for goodness sakes, because all the ideas you have for blogs are clogging up brain space that is desperately needed for work things, and other work things, and just general remembering how words are spelled and which day comes after Wednesday.

Self, you are being challenged. Get those blogs written. The one about San Francisco, and the one about pants, and the one about already being madly in love with people who don't exist yet*.

Blog about your adventures and your frustrations. Get it ALL out, Self. Otherwise, you will probably explode and someone will have to scrape your brain off of whatever solid surfaces you happen to be around (probably the cat).

So, Universe, I come to you. When do you write? Do you write when you are procrastinating and have run out of facebooks? Do you write when you're avoiding the scary work emails? Do you write instead of making spur-of-the-moment cake? How do you fill the internet with so many words, Universe?

*okay. Some of them exist, but in general, most of them don't yet. Intrigued? Good.

All the words

Five years ago, this August, I pretended I was a photojournalist for 4 days. I won the right-place-right-time-right-parents lottery and got to "cover" the 2008 Democratic National Convention for a regional newspaper's blog.

Those four days were some of the most overwhelming, eye opening days of my entire life.

I cried, I barely slept, I fought and lied and sweet talked.

After those four days, I was ready to hang up this particular dream. Professional photographer had always sounded ideal but when I got down to the nitty-gritty, I realized I didn't have the patience, the stamina or the raw talent to do this day in and day out.

And if anything, it made me treasure amazing photojournalism more than ever. Not all amazing photojournalism wins Pulitzers (although, seriously? THIS). Some of it is never seen beyond the circulation of people who walk out to their driveways in the morning to pick up actual-physical-make-your-fingers-grey paper. That's fine.

Stories don't need to be widely circulated, or mass produced, or bought by AP to be well told, beautiful stories. They just need to keep existing.

Which is why this news from the Chicago Sun Times (which is actually from Gawker, because Chicago Sun Times won't cover their own story) breaks my heart and fills me with rage.

This will never work. They'll think its working but the adage about photos and thousands of words is absolutely true. Everything will be fake and shallow. Newspapers are going to die way faster if they continue to punch themselves in the face.

Seriously, what kind of dbag looks John H. White in the eye and say that he's been replaced by something teenages use to take dick pics?

Thursdays Best Internet Finds: Make Me Things

I am drowning in everything right now. I just got a job, but I am also doing all the things I was doing before I had a job. So there is work-work, contract-work, babysitting-work, house-work, getting drinks with my friends-work, buying clothes-work...you get the idea.

Anyway. My gorgeous and insanely talented friend Cindy-loo just started this amazing blog:

Handmade Renegade.

Not only is Cindy-loo a french-speaking Engineer genius, she also is an amazing crafter who got her hands on a sewing machine and hasn't looked back since. Not only that: she is GROWING A HUMAN INSIDE HER. Seriously. She is incubating a person and making amazing princess tents. She can literally do everything.

Go look at all the amazing things she has made and be disappointed in your own inabilities. Then pin some stuff on your pinterest, eat a sandwich and feel better.

Untitled no. 5

Today I am struggling with how unfair the world is, and how powerless I am against it.

It's a pretty silly thing to be mad about, due to the aforementioned powerless-ness, but that silliness doesn't make it any less real and hard.

I think when you're a child and you feel powerless, you just assume that the feeling is temporary. "When I get older," you think, "I'll fight all the bad guys."

So as an adult, to be just as weak in the face of big, unchangeable, terrible things, you feel as though, somehow, you got tricked. The world pulled a fast one on you. The confidence you had as a seven year-old is gone and its replaced by a grim anger...

And booze. And homemade bread. And Kugel. And hard conversations. And meaningless conversations full of unfunny jokes that make you laugh. And washing dishes even though you hate washing dishes.

Anyway. That's what I am thinking about today.

Also! I rode the 50 bus Southbound in the morning and then! when I was coming back North, I rode in the same seat on the same bus. Crazy, right? How often does that happen?

Bad Poetry, part who cares

Through the torrential downpours
both literal and figurative


My boyfriend brought me empenadas
in a pizza box
25% nutella
25% bacon date goat cheese


I ate grilled cheese and a sundae
the whole thing
from Margies. With Jill.
and we clinked spoons
and toasted taking control of our destiny

Through the bright flashes of lightening and loud blasts of thunder
both literal and figurative

I stumbled across people from my past
both near past
and far past
We hugged about new adventures
or just stared across the aisle of the Broadway bus

I yogaed four times in a row
feeling stronger even when feeling weak
and cheered on Aimee who made it to seven

Through the heavy, heavy hearts
both literal and figurative


I cuddled babies who needed it
as much as I did.

And worked with five awesome fourth graders
on their slam poems
and the difference between literal and figurative.

Trying to ketchup

Hello Blog.

I miss you. I'm sorry I haven't been around. I've been a busy girl. And I've been working on lots of new things and the world has been a little sad and when the world gets sad, I get sad. So. Anyway.

I'm back now... I promise. There's a new chapter starting in May. And with it comes the potential to set new routines in place. And one of those routines will be (I hope) finishing blogs. I have so many half-started blogs lined up, and I lose interest or decide they're not good enough or whatever and move on. So...lets try being better at finishing what we start.

Here is a pictorial representation of my life right now.

That is my fridge. Please note, there is one egg. Un œuf. in that egg carton. Also, please note the three types of butter, the single cans of a variety of caffeinated (and notcaffeinated beverages) and the itty-bitty amount of left over soup that sat for three days before I finally got around to eating it. And you might be like, "hey Rach, look at all that delicious yogurt!" and then I'd be like, "that is Boyfriend's work yogurt, and after binging on yogurt for six months I'm off yogurt until at least summer."

And here is the door of the fridge.

Yep. Approximately one bajillion types of mustard AND jam.

This is my life. All the condiments, nothing to put them on.

To new adventures.

TYOE: St. Louis

One of the sweetest humans I know married another keeper, and now has gone and gotten herself pregnant (actually BOTH couples mentioned in that blog have managed to get themselves knocked up which is kind of spooky, but awesome. Awesomespooky).

To celebrate KChu (who should now go by her married nickname, KHow) bringing a new awesome human into the world (and the end of girlie time as we have all known it thus far), we decided a trip out of town was in order.

I steamrolled everyone's twee suggestions about wine country and lake houses and demanded that we all go to St. Louis, because I have been dying to go to the City Museum for YEARS and I could not think of a better group of people to drag along for the party.

My sweet potluck group is the best. Every month (or so) we get together, make yummy food, and talk about our ever-evolving-ever-changing-ever-new-sometimes-scary lives. There tends to be lots of wine involved.

But we put the pots and pans away and went to the Lou for a quick girls weekend.

KHow and I took the Amtrak down to St. Louis from Chicago. What a dignified way to travel. I will truly believe that America is the greatest country when we get our collective shit together and build a high-speed railway. And then I will never get on a plane again.

The train dumped us and it was a quick walk to Lafayette Park and our amazing mansion-home for the weekend. KHow found this gorgeous house on vbro.com. This was my first time staying in a vbro-type situation and it.was.AWESOME. This house was stunning. Girls never get tired of playing pretend in a dream home, no matter how old they get.

The house was so great, we spent the first day just sitting and enjoying it. Doing work, eating snacks, occasionally going up and down staircases, just because.

Finally our diet of jelly beans and clementines was no longer sufficient and we hoped over to SqWires for dinner. We managed to get seats at the bar (which was great, because the place was packed) and ate a quick dinner. The food wasn't spectacular, but it was delicious and totally hit the spot.

The rest of our companions arrived late that night while we were dozing in the media room (as you do).

The next morning we made ourselves breakfast (you know a kitchen is spacious when seven girls can be futzing around and it doesn't feel crowded) with some help from Park Avenue Coffee and their good coffee and indescribable gooey butter cake before heading out for adventures.

After a few wrong turns and an excellent photo-op by an enormous tire, we made it to a two mile wall of graffiti (if you are looking for the legal two mile graffiti wall in St. Louis  - the best place to access it is at the intersection of S. Wharf St. and Chouteau Ave).

Then it was just a quick walk along the lovely industrial waterfront to the Gateway Arch.

Arch park is gorgeous. If being-up-high isn't your thing, then there is no need to go up inside the Arch. There is plenty to do and see on the ground. As with going up in any tall structure. It's entertaining for about six minutes. You take some pictures, comment on the view aaaand its time to come down. I thought it was worth the
$10, but I am sure there are those who would disagree.

All the best photo ops are on the ground anyway.

With a quick stop for a late lunch, we then (FINALLY) made it to the City Museum just at 5 PM (when the price drops from $12, to $10 - Score! And the place is open until midnight! Double score!). We had strategically planned to come later in the day in the hopes that perhaps there would be fewer children underfoot. Since we weren't there mid-day it was impossible to compare but there were still children evvverywhere. I get it, its a very kid friendly place (and on a kindofwarm early March Saturday, there aren't a ton of options for the kiddos) but, I would have been willing to pay $20 if we could have gotten some sort of adult swim type deal.

Even with the littles running around, we still had an amazing time. Not since my days spent traipsing about the original Children's Museum in Washington DC have I ever had this much fun within a museum's walls. There was very little learning, it was just more go! do! see! climb! crawl! slide! go more!

When you visit:

Play outside! You must trust that all the pieces will stay together and that you can climb out on that airplane wing and through that crazy tunnel. You can. And you absolutely should.

Make art! You'll be tired after the outside adventures. So paint. Get your portrait drawn. Make snowflakes. Create things.

Go down the slides!
There are two that cannot be missed. The monster slide - which is right near the ticket booth and is bright and colorful. And the 10-story-slide which is a little more tucked away. The entrance to it is on the first floor back by the caves. It is a surreal experience to slide down 10 stories (and one that will leave you dizzy and disoriented for a minute) but one you should have in your memory box.

Forget the Rules (or try to)! I've become a big fan of rules in recent years. But the thing about the City Museum is there are no rules. or maps. or instructions. You just go. Sometimes this can get terrifying (mostly when oblivious kids are blocking your path and you can't move) but it should be considered liberating to not worry so much about being right all the time.

After a few hours of go! do! see! all of us old farts were exhausted. We veto-ed a Washington St. dinner in favor of heading back to Lafayette Park (mostly because we wanted our walk home at the very end of the night to be as short as possible.

We made it to Square One Brewery for a yummy dinner (and even yummier drinks) before a quick trot home and a night of cupcakes, laughing and falling asleep midconversation.

We all slept late on Sunday and then stumbled back to SqWires for brunch (where there was a man playing piano! and a fireplace! the love is in the details, people) before heading back to Chicago.

I know there is more of St. Louis to see, but for the amount of time we had, it was nearly a perfect trip. We managed to get everywhere on foot! The sun shone down. We slept and ate well - there's really not much more you can ask for in a weekend getaway.

Double Post

Hi!

I wrote a blog about dressing like a fancy regency lady for the Improvised Jane Austen blog.

You should go over here and read it. Then buy nice dresses. You deserve them.

Storycat

JBH is an awesome human being in approximately one zillion ways, but one of my favorite parts is that she can always tell (completely true) stories that make me laugh, out loud, when I having a grouchy time of it.

You should get your own JBH, they can be trapped with lobster nachos and Indiana Basketball.

TYOE: San Diego

For our first on-a-plane adventure, we decided to cross timezones and spend some time soaking up all the Vitamin D our bodies had been missing during this dreary Chicago Winter.

San Diego is Guh-or-geous. We got off the plane and I was already ready to move in. Sure, I'll live in your crappy airport, just gimme all your sunshine.

The weather was in the 50's-60's all weekend with overflowing buckets of sunshine, and people kept apologizing for this! Nearly everyone we talked to was all, "sorry its so cold. I wish you guys got better weather this weekend." Meanwhile, boyfriend and I are walking around with our tongues to the sky trying to catch sunbeams. Sure it was a little cold for shorts, but I got myself a nice bit of color and so forgave everyone for the necessity of long sleeves.

Our hotel (priceline that 'ish, y'all) was right on the Bay and since we only had about 36 hours we decided that that's where we would spend most of our time. Sometimes you want to see all of a city, sometimes you realize that its better to enjoy what is right in front of you, especially in a place that is so easy to walk around in. This meant we had a very touristy weekend, but sometimes (hipsters, I'm talking to you here) being a tourist is Just. Fine.


Where we ate:
Top of the Market - ugh, so touristy. But we were starving and craving super delicious seafood for lunch on the first day. Swordfish tacos? Awesome. Atlantic Rock Crab Club? Kind of paled in comparison to the tacos. But not bad. Bonus Points? We were right on the bay and we got to watch old men in canoes fishing while we ate.

Spike Africa - We were super indecisive about where to eat dinner on Friday night and so walked in huuuuge circles, all over the Gaslamp district and into Little Italy before ending up here. I had the Ahi Mango Poke appetizer as my meal and it. was. perfect. Easily my favorite thing I ate the whole trip. With the Red's Strawberry Sail as my boozy side piece, I was the happiest camper. Boyfriend got the Island Pork Rib Plate (I'm not sure why) and was a little disappointed, but ordering ribs in a seafood joint seems like it would be a disappointing choice. So no pity over here.

Mission Beach Coffee Break - They had acai bowls. It wasn't nearly as good as the one we had with Maimees in Hawaii. But it was an acceptable silver medal acai bowl, enjoyed with our feet in the sand.

Roberto's Taco Shop - Six years ago, Boyfriend had a drunken burrito from this joint and has been dreaming about it ever since. We made that dream a reality, sober this time, which may have been a mistake. A California burrito is serious business. Some beer to line your stomach before the grease and fat train comes to town would not be the worst idea. So delicious and yet, much like jager shots and McDonalds cheeseburgers, something my body can no longer handle in excess.

Sally's Seafood on the Water - We were not super hungry after the dumptruck of burrito, but we needed something. Sally's had overpriced sushi. We ordered two rolls. They were so delicious. We were full and happy.

Cafe 222 - It's pretty hard to screw up brunch. And Cafe 222 held up their end of the deal by serving us eggs and carbs in a timely and delicious fashion. Just a warning: their website is obnoxious. Its almost bad enough to make me take away an imaginary star.

What we did:
The USS Midway Museum - So. Bad. Ass. Give yourself so many hours here (like >5), because even if you consider yourself disinterested in military history (me), you will be drawn to all the how-life-was intricacies of this place. Go up in the island. And all the way down to the engine rooms. Then think about how you walked around for five hours non.stop and still didn't see the whole thing. Wonder how something this enormous manages to float in water. Give the concepts of buoyancy and density some high-fives.

Mission Beach - We picked it because of its proximity to the requisite burrito stand. It was a little cold (and we a little didn't have towels) for beach sitting, but there was a grassy spot with palm trees that was perfect for reading and digesting said burritos.

Seaport Village - What a vortex of time wasting. I'm cool with being touristy but this was one step away from a fanny pack.

Mission Brewery - We did the beer-then-burrito thing a little backwards which made me feel pretty wretched. The beer was super good and the building was airy and wonderful. Even though my poor little stomach was about to explode.

Took public transit - The fastest way to my heart is an easy to use public transit system. The light rail and the buses were efficient and cheap and got us to exactly where we needed to go. Bonus points? We got to eavesdrop on some guy put out a hit on someone while on the bus. We felt dangerous, but safe.

Despite some crazy-expensive food and getting hosed in the hotel room department (no balcony?! weak), it was the perfect escape-from-Chicago-winter weekend. AND, it was my first time on the west coast! Ever (with the exception of some extended airport layovers)! Which means we got to fly over big Rocky Mountains and crazy flat Nevada! The East Coast will always be my number one boo, but I am diggin' on the rest of this fine land pretty hard these days.

In the Kitchen: Lavender Cookies

I'm not much of a baker. Sweet stuff is better left to my better half, mostly because its way more science than cooking and I'm a little too free-form to be constrained by measurements and rules (also, I tend to over-indulge in the licking-the-cake-spoon department). But occasionally I'll pull out the flour and sugar and do the damn thing.

Once upon a time, a little while ago, my amazing Godmother made amazing lavender cookies. I don't know if there was a specific occasion to go along with them, but they were there and I ate them and they were so.good.

I've thought about them on occasion since that day. And since I now live in one of the only neighborhoods where you can buy lavender without too much struggle (oh, Middle Eastern Bakery, you are The. Best.) I knew it was only a matter of time before I was having enough of a bad day to know I needed to make some soothing, smellgood cookies. 

Lavender Olive Oil Cookies (adapted from a Lemon Thyme Olive Oil Cookies recipe)
Recipe courtesy George Duran (by way of AEM).

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ginger  
1 tablespoon lavender
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons milk (I ended up using about 6 T. by the end)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 teaspoon of salt 

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper or use silicone baking sheets.

Put the flour, sugar, baking soda, ginger, lavender, and salt into a bowl and whisk together to combine. In a small bowl, whisk together the olive oil, milk, vanilla. Add the liquid ingredients to the dry ingredients, stirring with a wooden spoon until you form a nice smooth dough (my dough was super crumbly, so I kept adding additional tablespoons of milk, and ended up using about 3 additional table spoons before I got a consistency I was okay with; even after the additional milk they still required a little bit of TLC to be made into ball-shapes, but once cooked, they tasted perfect).

Roll heaping teaspoonfuls of the dough into balls. Place them about 2 inches apart on the prepared baking sheets. Bake the cookies about 12 to 15 minutes, or until they are browned around the edges. Let the cookies cool for a few minutes and then transfer them to wire racks to cool completely.

They were just as awesome as I remembered them. After taking an informal poll of all the people who got to have a few, the boys all said they tasted like soap. The girls, however, said they tasted like a delightful secret garden experience in yo' mouth. I am inclined to agree with the girls. Lavender is such a strong scent, that it can be over- powering, but the olive-oil seemed to neutralize it. Make them, and let me know what you think. 

After I shared my batch, someone told me that apparently Princess Kate over there in jolly ole England is apparently big into lavender biscuits (which is what they call cookies over there, I guess. Probably because Pillsbury hasn't really gotten into the UK market). They were instrumental in helping to sooth her yucky preggo tummy in the first trimester. While my friend was not preggo, she was having some of the bubble guts and apparently these made her feel surprisingly better. So not only are they crazydelicious, they're medicinal too! 

Also, in other news, I've decided I hate the lighting in my kitchen. Everything looks so harsh and unappetizing. As I continue to spend more time than expected barefoot and in the kitchen, I'm also working on how to make the pictures of food I take look not gross. Any insight into how I can do this (without becoming a photoshop whiz) would be greatly appreciated.

TYOE: A Saturday in Milwaukee

2013 will be The Year of Exploration or TYOE.

For Christmas, Boyfriend gifted me the gift of adventure within the continental United States (just like on Double Dare!). Due to the absurd amount of flying for work he did last year, he earned enough miles to get me a Companion Pass on Southwest Airlines. And while many airlines would make you give up all your hard-earned miles for such a fancy piece of plastic, they let him keep the miles and the girlfriend-in-tow. So this year will be all about exploring as many of the places Southwest flies as we possibly can. The Year of Exploration (*trumpet noise*)

Well, our first adventure did not even require a plane ticket, just some gloves and a full tank of gas.

Boyfriend has been talking about this Spy Restaurant in Milwaukee forevvvvver, and we got the braintrust-y idea that we should go explore it in the middle of February when Milwaukee was a balmy 16 degrees ABOVE freezing.

I've discovered that when Boyfriend and I travel, we focus most of our energy on eating and drinking and walking around. We'll wander into a museum every now and then but we love food, we love booze and we love walking around burning off all those delicious, delicious calories. Are there awesome museums in Milwaukee (and the other cities we will visit)? Absolutely. Will we visit them? Meh. Maybe. We'll see.

The day started at Trocadero for brunch. We picked it for its proximity to the Lakefront Brewery - and in that regard, its awesome. We were told we had to have a Milwaukee Bloody Mary. I don't know how The Frenchie compares to other Bloodys (since I don't drink them on the regulars, being a mimosa girl myself), but it was spicy and delightful. The beer chaser felt unnecessary but I mean, when in Wisconsin... The food was fine, but I feel like its pretty hard to foul up brunch. The service wasn't great, but since we were only walking across the river to get to our next destination, we weren't in too much of a rush.


Then! After brunch, we discovered that the Holton Street bridge has both a convenient pedestrian walkway AND a sweet teeny-tiny little playground. Full of brunch and a little tipsy, in 16 degree weather, is not quite picture-perfect swinging weather, but we gave it a shot.


We mulled over which brewery to go to (Lakefront vs. Milwaukee Brewing Company) and ended up at Lakefront because that is where Facebook told us to go. It was a great experience, but now we want to try out Milwaukee for comparison's sake.

By 11 AM we had both had about 1.5 beers and were feeling AWESOME. Day drinking is the BEST, winter, summer, don't care. I like my beer while the sun is shining. The tour was fine, the beer was good (although we were disappointed in the lack of variety in the brew pub) and we walked out with two complimentary pint glasses (just what every household needs more of - pint glasses).

Three beers in and feeling buzzed to the max, we meandered down the riverfront path. I bet in the summer it is super gorgeous and full of fun things, but I have to say, with a snowy river and literally NO ONE around, it was kind of perfect.

We made it to the spy restaurant (with a quick stop at the statue of the Fonz which is sort of meaningless to me as I have not ever seen a single second of "Happy Days." But I love a good photo op).                 

The spy restaurant at 4 PM lacked a little of the required ambiance. It needs some darkness and to be less full of screaming children. But we had some fried cheese curds and ice cream (Lunch of (drunk) Champions) and a fancy martini and explored all the fun spy bits. If you really want a Super Spy Experience, get your ass to the Spy Museum in Washington DC and do the Spy training thing. I know its expensive but it is WORTH it for the James Bond power trip. 

We made it down to the Public Market which eeeeeveryone said we had to visit. Not knowing what it was, I was up for it. Until I realized it was just a giant, uber-trendy Whole Foods. 

Had we not just stuffed ourselves with sweet, sweet cheese we may have been amped for artisanal pickles and fresh halibut but it was just noisy and smelled funny so we left to find some non-food third ward adventures.

We found an amazing antique shop (in the same building as Paintball Dave's) and spend an hour or so convincing ourselves that we did not need a whole bunch of garbage (despite how bad we might have wanted it).

By that point, buzz worn off and cold starting to seep in, we made the choice to be done with Milwaukee. Was there more to see? Sure. But going to a museum at 5 PM is dumb and we live close enough to find comfort in the fact that it will always be there, hanging out, waiting for another day of drunken stumbles.

Celebrate your local adventure! Visit a small city within driving distance today!

Thursday's Best Internet Finds - Fancy Photos

I am a huge photography nerd. I like taking photographs, looking at photographs... all the other things people do with photos (its kind of just a two step process, I guess).

The internet is cool because it makes looking at photographs way easier. Thanks Internet!

I was talking with a friend this past weekend about maternity pictures, as she is up the spout and I was wondering if she was going to pay someone a whole bunch of money to capture her glowy, round self for all eternity.

She isn't, because we both agreed its kind of silly. The professional photo industry is exploding, largely thanks to social media. I give photographers a wholebunch of credit, they have made quite the little niche industry for themselves. We spent some time wondering which event will trend as the next photo-worthy moment. My guess is secret proposal photos (which is already blowing up) followed by "Pictures-in-our-first-house."

Please don't think I am knocking photographers, or people who chose to have these photos taken - I am not at all. I totally understand it, and I really enjoy looking at the end result.

However. That is not what this blog is about. (holy tangent, batman).

Badass, creative photo projects are my number one fav. And here are three awesome ones.

Back to the Future - my naraccistic self so totally wants to be part of this. It combines my two favorite things: vintage photos and adults looking kind of ridiculous.

Toy Stories - children from all over the world (kids are the best subjects) and their most prized possessions. So wonderful and simple. The preceding article has some interesting anthropological tidbits but really when you look at these photos, in the back of your mind you are only thinking about what your possessions would be. I feel like that if I was captured at age 3 - 5, it would have been a cabbage patch doll, some legos in a yellow bookbag and a book or two (although one of my parents would probably answer that question better), anytime after 5 and before 10 - it was books, and barbies, and my Samantha doll and probably some dress-ups.

you are my wild - children (I was not kidding about them being the best subjects), photographed by their amazing parents. Parents (if they are lucky enough to be talented in this field) are the best at capturing everything that is wonderful about childhood. These photos make me want to be a parent. But only if I can also be an amazing photographer.

Heart Dagger

Me: I really, really want to go to a Blackhawks game.

Boyfriend: Me too. I'll take you. We just have to wait...

Me: yeah

Boyfriend: ...until they lose.

Writing this blog post feels wrong. Posting on social media seems stupid. Turning on final score notifications on my phone was absurd.

Logically, in the verysmall logical part of my brain - I know that my actions have no effect on the Blackhawks season.

BUT. The rest of me. The Italian part, the Chicago-transplant part, the unlucky-in-most-things part, the part that is currently full of cake and chocolate chips and extra spoonfuls of ice cream - is so sure that when the Blackhawks lose, its going to be all my fault. I will have done something wrong. Gone to the game, worn the wrong underwear, been in a bar (instead of in my house) watching it, started watching too early, been too sober/too drunk/too hungry.

When the Blackhawks lose, I will feel really bad about it. And while I recognize that that makes me a total lunatic - I can't help it.

And I know I'm not alone. That sound you hear, during every game, around the 18-minute mark in the third period is the city of Chicago holding its collective breath. Although, to be honest, I don't know if anyone has entirely let it out yet.

I'm mostly glad that after an entire Notre Dame football season with the same emotions and tendency to channel my anxiety into spinach dip binges - Boyfriend finally understands how it goes.

And if you think I am Not wavering on pushing the publish button, you don't know me. Or my insanity.

Dance about it.

You've seen this, right? I just want to make sure that everyone in the entire universe has seen this. Its too good to be missed through an internet hiccup.

What will be your Space Jam?