Before and After is Fun for Everyone! (Part I)

Now that we're embarking on a new adventure at Chez Radomile, you can see the before and after shots of the last adventure. 'cause, you know, that's how I roll. I mean, you can't have real time updates of the home improvement projects. That makes way too much sense!

As you may recall, back in December we embarked on our first major construction project, complete with porta-potty. Our patio wasn't doing too well so we had to rebuild it. I mean, it was built in 1928...can't people make stuff to last! Oh, right, it made it 90 years and through countless earthquakes. But, it was time to take the patio down and start new. I mean, when a part of your house gets to the point that you stay away from it and try to keep the dogs away from it, that could be a sign that you need to do something. I'm just sayin'. Our contractor agreed and ripped that bad boy all the way down.

The funny thing about this project is that as guests come to the house they think this is how it looked all along...or at the very least, we had new tile put in. They either don't realise or think we're lying when we say, no, really, this became a big empty space and we completely rebuilt it. You, dear blogsphere, can be the judge....

Before:

'complete with dog ghost silhouette.

Here you can see Jane inspecting the damage to the patio. Can't you just feel her disdain for those cracked stairs in front of her?

And here's the glamour shot of the whole patio. I know, you're jealous and wondering how we could possible improve on this.

During:

Both sets of stairs are gone and they've started removing the patio.

Can I get a "woot! woot!"?

Now I will confess that I didn't get any shots after they removed this remaining portion of the patio. But, seriously, there was nothing here. They took it all. Seriously. Tomorrow I'll show you the before and after of the rest of the patio that you can't see in these pictures. (Right before you get to the Pedigree bag in the back of the picture, turn right and there's more patio.) And, for that portion, you can really see that they took everything out and started completely new.

Here's the after:

This is what happens when you point at the photographer...you end up on the interwebs!

Here's what those very intimidating pointers were keeping an eye on while I was taking my glorious after pictures of our patio.

mmmm, Kalbi....

So yeah, Part II tomorrow and hopefully next week you can see before and after pictures of the rest of the backyard. I swear, after 30 years, our house is finally coming together!

Summertime & the livin's easy

A little background:

I have two dogs, Jane is 10 and Dick is 8. Jane's arthritis has progressed to where she's very mobile and still causes trouble but doesn't want to go on walks. She takes vitamins and medication and we need to cook for her to try to keep her weight up and her digestion normal.

I have a bathroom that's currently under construction (by me, scary to think, I know) which, if I can't fix it, I can't take showers in there. The water leaks from the shower (no, not the pipes, we checked, scientifically I might add) and onto the 1st floor. I hope to be done by this weekend and back using my shower by the following weekend.

We just rebuilt (thankfully not by us, we hired actual professionals) our patio that was, uhm, super broken. It cost a bunch of money (totally reasonable and they did a incredible job) and well, yeah.

[work, ringing phone.]

"This is Jenna."

Mom: "We have a problem."

"Ok."

"So I was sitting outside on those new chaises we bought."

"Ok."

"Just enjoying the day and Jane comes out."

"Is she ok?"

"Yeah, she's limping a little but fine. That's not the problem."

"Ok."

"So I'm sitting there and she comes up next to me and curls around me on the chaise."

"So, that's the problem? The dog wants to sit on the chaise?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, you've got a problem. Need anything at the market?"

"Nope, I just went."

"Ok, then I'll see you at home later."

Yeah, dog didn't need to be rushed to the vet. Ceiling didn't come crashing down. Patio is still as fabulous as the contractor left it. No, the problem is that the arthritic dog wants to sit on the new 50% off chaises we just bought at Target this weekend. (BTW, all of their patio stuff is 50% off...if you need anything, now is the time to buy.)

Yeah, nothing changes your priorities like having a summers off from work.

Maybe I need to rethink my career. I dig problems like that.

Holy crap I'm blond

It wasn't until I saw Ellen's pictures that I realized how blond.

That's awesome. Of course, that explains the conversation I had with my mom Tuesday night. I got home from the salon and I might have, ahem, forgot to tell her I'd be late. Normally when I tell her I'm getting my hair cut and I come home after she says my hair looks the same, which for the record, it never does. I mean, I have an entire section of my very neglected website just for my hair. (!) So, I thought I'd just let her notice, or not notice on her own.

"Hi."

"Why are you so late?"

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Did you get your hair cut?"

"Yup."

"You're. so. blond."

"Ok."

"What's your natural color?"

"Did you feed the dogs?"

"Its too blond."

"Is that a yes or a no that you fed the dogs."

"I like it darker."

"Ok, then its a no, you didn't feed the dogs."

"Of course I fed the dogs."

[Exit mom's bedroom.]

"...Are you mad at me..."

[continue walking to my bedroom]

Its no secret that my mom prefers my hair longer and brown. And that's fine. I prefer my rent free but we can't always go back to the way things were. I like to pay people to do nifty things to my hair. I can't do it. If I could, I would. And that's my primary rule when getting my hair colored: I want whatever shouldn't be coming out of my head...if it doesn't match my eyebrows, perfect! Well, and my new rule...as Regina & I work together, hang out together, and go to the same hair salon I always tell our colorist not to do whatever she has...not that I don't love her hair...I do, its just people at work think we're Frick & Frack right now...I don't need to help that along.

So yeah. I'm blond.

Things I learned while in Pittsburgh - Lesson One

Lesson One: Always carry food with you.

I learned this lesson several years ago when Elizabeth was in town. I went to her father's house to pick her up for dinner only to be met with the news that we had to wait at least an hour since she was finishing up something for work. I was so hungry I was about to eat my head.

Elizabeth: "Have some chocolate."

Jenna: "How much can I have?"

E:"Whatever's there. I'm done with it."

Unexpectedly, Elizabeth's sister walks in about 15 minutes later. Elizabeth's sister lives in Silverlake so I really didn't expect her in Brentwood. Neither did Elizabeth.

Barbara:"Where's the chocolate?"

Elizabeth: "On the table."

Barbara: "There's nothing there but an empty box."

Jenna: "I ate it."

Barbara: "All of it?!?"

Jenna: "I was hungry. Elizabeth said I could."

Elizabeth: "I did say that."

Ever since then, I've carried Nutra Grain bars on me in their little Nutra Grain case. Yes, my granola bars have their own case. Duh. How else would they keep from getting smushed in my purse. I often get made fun of that but hey, when I'm stranded with unexpected hours to wait before a meal and you're hungry and I'm not, who's laughing then pal? That and it saves me the embarrassment of eating all the chocolate. 'cause in that situation, without the Nutra Grain bar, I'd eat all the chocolate again.

But I didn't bring the bars in their handy carrying case to Pittsburgh.

Last night we went over to the "girls' house". I've talked about the girls before. My grandmother was one of six sisters. Three married (Margaret, Sue and Lil) and three didn't (Ollie, Rose and Annette). The three who didn't marry have always lived together in their house about two miles from here. So, we went to see the girls, something we do on every trip to Pittsburgh.

Usually they make and elaborate dinner but, thankfully, they were waiting for my mom's cousin Curly (who goes by E.J. in his non-family life, but whose real name is Earl) to get to town. But, since he was driving from North Carolina, he was running late and wouldn't be here until tomorrow.

In our ongoing plot to keep my grandfather from cooking, we picked up a ready-to-cook pizza from Labriola's yesterday. He likes pizza and we figured it would be better than the usual $1.29 special he sometimes finds at Giant Eagle. Mom's morally opposed to pre-packed food with all the preservatives so we try our best to side-step the issue while we're here. (I won't even get into the Lipton Noodle Debate of 2006. It wasn't pretty; there were injuries and we don't speak of it anymore.) We were just so proud of our idea and even more so when we had dinner to bring to the girls. (It was a really big pizza.) Heroes we were!

We walk in and give the pizza to Rose, the chef of the family with the instructions: 12 minutes at 400. Now, this has been Rose's kitchen for 60 years. You don't mess with her kitchen. You don't cook in her kitchen. You don't clean in her kitchen. You don't fetch drinks in her kitchen. Its hers. That's the way its always been and the way it always will be.

Ten minutes later I hear the following:

Rose: "Dinner's ready."

Mom: "Uhm, Aunt Rose. The pizza is still cold and the oven is only on 300 I think it needs to cook more."

Rose: "Dinner's ready."

Mom: "Uhm, really, Aunt Rose, I don't think its done. The pizza is cold and the cheese isn't even melted."

I'll let you guess who won that fight.

I was so hungry I ate a piece of the uncooked pizza. (For the record, two of the six people at dinner felt the pizza was cooked while the remaining four wanted it to cook more. The fact that two of the four felt it was fine just goes to strengthen mom's & my resolve to cook our own food while we're in town since the others can't be trusted.)

I was so sad. That pizza had all homemade ingredients from the crust to the sauce and the cheese. Labriola's makes their own sauces and crusts and they're Italian so they understand pizza. Most of you know I won't eat pizza. Its offensive to me. What you pizza makers out there try to pass off as pizza just upsets me and its just not worth my waistline. But, here we were, in a market owned and run by Italians and they get it and its worth the calories and hey this is vacation and won't this be awesome....

I should have had a Nutra Grain bar on me. I could have snuck into the bathroom to eat it when I heard the argument start.

Lesson learned. Again.

Stay Tuned for Lesson Two: No matter the strength of the point or the evidence, you will always lose an argument with a 92 year old.

So you think you can recycle?

Heh, you've never met my grandfather. Ed Begley, Jr. leaves a bigger carbon footprint than my grandfather does.

One of my earliest memories of visiting my grandparents included dinner. Not just the eating, mind you, but the after dinner ritual. Grandma did all the cooking and Mom and I would clear, wash and dry the dishes.

After I handed mom the dishes, I grabbed whatever trash was on the table and opened the garbage can. It was one of those circular cans with the foot petal. I'd step on the petal and the lid would raise. Magic! But, there wasn't a liner inside like at home. There were three milk cartons, the cardboard ones, completely open at the top.

"Uhm, mom, what do I do?"

"What do you mean?"

"There are three milk cartons. Which one do I put the trash into?"

"Just leave the trash on the table for grandpap."

"Really?"

At 4 I learned that my grandfather had his system, which he still employs today. I didn't know it at the time, but he was composting. He'd divide the waste into different categories and use it for various purposes. While everyone else in the neighborhood would put out two and three cans of trash, my grandfather would put out about a third of one can for his house. Nothing went to waste, everything was reused. The compost went into the garden for his tomato plants 'cause when you're Italian and retired, you grow tomatoes. Its mandatory or else they take the Italian away from you.

Well, fast-forward 30 years and this 92 year old won't grow tomatoes anymore, but he still puts out less trash in a year than most people do in a week. He reuses not just the plastic tray from a tv dinner, but stores them in their original box.

He uses two liter pop bottles as planters. The plants? He cut a piece off of tree from our house when we lived on Sunset Blvd. about 30 years ago. He lost his first cutting (it died when he left it outside and it was too cold) but he's worked that first plant he cultivated into about 8 smaller siblings around the house.

When he prints, he won't use the ream of paper mom bought him a few years ago. He uses the backs of pages that are either blank or almost blank. He'll use the back of bank statements, fliers that come in the mail, anything that he has a just a bit of usable space. For awhile there, he was cutting paper in half so he would only use half of the side without printing so the paper would go further. That tray on the printer doesn't work anymore. He has to feed all the paper through the manual feed at the top. And the thought of allowing us to buy him a new printer? Wouldn't even hear of it.

We got into a bit of a row because he asked us to pick up ink for him at Giant Eagle. There, they charge $6 for the off-brand ink. We went, as instructed, but they're out of the specific ink he needed. Lucky for us, or so we thought, it was on sale at Target for $9 and we picked it up. He was not happy with us. Now, keep in mind, he has no magenta for his printer. He'd rather print pictures that come out green (I've seen them, they're not pretty) than have us spend the extra $3 on ink. I told him mom & I both have jobs, we can afford it. He shrugged and walked away.

And lest you think this is a mandatory sort of thing, it isn't. The house is paid, his heating and cooling bills are low, he hasn't bought a car in probably 30 years and the only time he goes to the doctor is when its mandated by the state for his driver's license. He just won't waste anything.

This is a man who watched the depression from the front steps of his house, laid off from his work as a mechanic. He's so against any sort of waste the my mom and I have to sneak a bag of trash out of the house everyday. Seriously.

Mom bought the smallest package of butter you've ever seen to bake. (My grandfather only uses "spread"...no butter to be found in this house.) She made a cake for him today and when he asked about the glaze (he really liked it!), she confessed the butter purchase to him.

"But I have margarine."

"Dad, margarine doesn't work for baking. It separates and doesn't cook correctly."

"But I have it here. I bet it would work. You should use that."

"Dad, I swear, it won't work. They tell you not to use margarine for baking."

"Well, I have it and you should have used it."

Telling him that we froze the butter to use next year was of little solace to him. He was still opposed to the purchase. Yeah, I didn't tell him about my new pants, like mom told him about hers. I know better. That's why he likes me more.

Greetings from Pittsburgh

As I'm sure Steve will be pleased to hear, I've been able to get my grandfather's PC up and running without re-installing messenger and tapping the aforementioned Steve online and asking him for various solutions to problems only a 92 year old with a PC can cause.

Yeah me!
Yeah Geek Squad!

Yes, despite my feelings about the big blue empire, I have to say the Monroeville Geek Squad are by far the nicest BBY employees I've ever met. Not only did they answer my questions but they offered to install whatever RAM I bought into this 6 year old machine and trouble shoot any addition problems. I heart them. If you're ever in Monroeville, I highly suggest this Best Buy.

Are you enthralled yet? Can you just not stop reading in case you miss something else equally interesting? Yup, such is my time in Pittsburgh. I sit in front of a PC for hours and hours troubleshooting viruses and misplaced settings in an effort to get the computer up and running again.

But, we're up which means we can leave the house for shopping! I know you're wondering what a label snob like me could possibly find in suburban Pittsburgh. Well, let me tell you there is quite a bit to find, and always far below retail!

For the Frugal:
Dollar Tree kicks the 99 Cent Store's booty. I would tell you the swag I scored but that would ruin Christmas.

Target:
Oh, the deals to be had! No one does markdowns like the kids in Monroeville. I got a pair of metallic Converse One-Star pants for $8.36. And, since there's no sales tax here on clothing, the pants really were $8.36. But, I did have to talk gramma out of buying me the ugliest thought of a bridesmaid dress for Elizabeth's wedding. It was sorta cute on the hanger but on me...yeah, not so much. I didn't care if it was $10 it didn't make it any cuter. I was able to distract her with the thought of stealing a dress I picked out for her years ago that she wore for a wedding. She was overwhelmed by the thought of getting that out of her closet; when I saw she was weak I put the ugly $10 dress away.

For the Fashionable:
We have Kohl's (and no for the non-west L.A. readers, we don't have that at home). I was able to see and cry at the Vera Wang for Kohl's collection. Woof. But mom did score $5 Talbot's pants at the Talbot's outlet. My grandfather didn't think it was possible to buy pants for $5 that originally retailed for $68. (Yes, dear readers, its true, he doesn't spend much time with us.) He declared shenanigans on the whole thing, shock his head and walked away. He doesn't appreciate our shopping brilliance. That's why we usually hide all of our treasures. Mom showed him in a moment of weakness. It won't happen again.

For the hungry:

Labriola's is a second generation "Italian store" as my family calls it. Its a small grocery that specializes in Italian foods. If you're a foodie, doesn't matter if your a cook, but if you're a foodie, your head will explode. If you're a cook, your head and your heart will explode simultaneously. Its not pretty. Anything Italian you've seen on a cooking show from these special canned tomatoes mom kept muttering about to beautiful imported pasta...and everything was really well priced. And, and, they had all this super cheap ready-made food...like a HUGE pizza with all homemade ingredients for $6.50. They had biscotti and cream puffs and stuffed shells and ravioli...all homemade and ready for you to take credit for. They had a huge deli counter and fresh cheese and eggs and really I just ate two pizelles as I typed this 'cause I was making myself hungry. (The things I do for the blogsphere!)

So yeah, I'll leave you with that. But, I will ask you to stay tuned. Why, you ask? Well, I reply...all of you people who think you're all frugal and earth-friendly and all of that? Dude, meet my grandfather. He can recycle anything, including 25 year old Stoffers containers AND boxes.

I know, you're hoping tomorrow comes sooner so you can read about him.

Happy Birthday Gramma!

Yes, today is my mom's birthday. It is also my friend Nina's birthday and Regina's wedding anniversary. Its a big day.

For Nina, I left voicemail; for Regina I shouted Happy Anniversary as she walked into her office and for mom, we went to the Peninsula last night for dinner. I have three words for you to sum up our dinner, the new chef and the new menu: Tofu Tasting Menu.

Seriously.

Tofu.
Tasting.
Menu.

Dude, I understand you're trying to capture a younger crowd. I get that. And you should. When my mom and her best friend are younger than everyone else in the room (except me) by 30 years, you've got an old crowd. But, tofu tasting? Yeah, not so much.

I had the scallops, mom had the salmon and Eleanor had...what did she have...some small bird off the side dish section of the menu. And, don't get me wrong, it was all quite tasty and the portions were perfect. But, here was the conversation over our desert to sort of help you with the tone of the food for dinner:

Waiter: How do you like your desert?
Eleanor: Its different. I've never had a carrot cake like this before.
Waiter: Its organic.
Eleanor: Oh.

When we ordered the cake, it said organic carrot cake. When the cake came, it was a very different consistency than other carrot cakes. I liked it, mom didn't and Eleanor was sort of lukewarm. But, here's the thing. I understand the importance of organic but really, "organic" is not impacting my cake. The recipe and the time it cooked impacted the cake...not that the carrots were grown by a loving farmer that read poetry to his crops every day. I know what goes into a carrot cake and if mom used all organic ingredients in her cake, it would not taste like that did. It would be carrot cake and it would rock you. It wouldn't be a carrot cake with an odd consistency.

I'm just sayin.

Happy Birthday Mom!!

Dear ol' Dad

Every now and again people ask me what my dad's up to. I sometimes point them here but, with my dad, you sort of need to see his take on something to really get the full feel of it. This is about a year old but I just found it on the Google. You'll need Real Player but if you've never met my dad its a good introduction. This is how he speaks. Even when you're at dinner. Seriously. Pop forward to 01:43 (yes, one hour, forty-three minutes) and you'll see a presentation he did.

Cookie Monster

For S'n'B tonight, we have a yarn swap and cookie exchange. Last month I brough a bunch of yarn I didn't want which quickly found an much more loving home so I can't contribute any yarn as I like what I have. But, I can bring cookies. mmmm, cookies.

Part of the cookie exchange is to bring the recipe. As mom's copy of the recipe left much to be desired (i.e. you needed psychic abilities to understand the directions), I took it upon myself to expand the directions for people other than mom to understand and add a Tools Needed section as I didn't want someone to get all excited about making these one evening only to have them look like blobs instead of happy snowflakes because they didn't know they would need a Pizzelle iron.

Pizzelles

Ingredients
3 eggs
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup butter (melted and cooled)
1 1/2 cups flour
1 tsp. baking powder
2 tsp vanilla
1 tsp anise seed or anise extract

Tools Needed
pizzelle iron
large bowl
small bowl
Italian mother
wire cooling racks
electric hand mixer (optional)

Directions

1. Place the Italian Mother ("IM") where you can see her.

2. Plug in pizzelle iron to heat while you work.

3. In the large bowl beat eggs. If you have an electric mixer place on a high setting or else the IM will tell you that you're nothing beating the eggs enough.

4. Add sugar and continue mixing.

5. Add melted cooled butter. (If the butter is hot you'll cook the eggs. Don't do that.)

6. While doing the above have the IM measure out the 1 1/2 cups of flour into the smaller bowl. Have her add the 1 tsp of baking powder to flour and mix together. (According to the IM, this is obvious as everyone knows that you are to mix baking powder and flour together before adding to the mixture.)

7. Have IM add flour slowly into larger bowl while you continue to mix & try not to choke on the flour dust. Understand why the only other person in your family with asthma was a baker. Continue until all flour/baking powder has been added & mix well.

8. Add vanilla while continuing to mix.

9. Add anise seed or anise extract while continuing to mix.

10. Once the anise is added you should have a smooth mixture. Congratulations! You now have your cookie dough.

11. Take a spoon and scoop a dollop into the dead center of each of the pizzelle mold. Don't move the dollop around if you dropped it in the wrong place or else you'll be chastised by the IM.

12. Close pizelle iron and let cookies cook for approximately 45 - 60 seconds. (After 20 seconds you can start checking to see if they're done.)

13. Once cookies are a light golden brown, remove gently. (We use a butter knife but you can use whatever you like to grab a corner and transfer to the cooking rack. They're oddly sturdy when you transfer them.)

Once you start making the cookies you can adjust the size and crispiness based on your personal taste. I like them a bit bigger and less crispy but it's a personal preference.

Let the cookies cool for about an hour. (You can start to stack them as soon as they're not completely hot) After the hour, seal them in a Ziploc sort of container to keep the moisture out.
Eat and Enjoy!

My family has been making these for generations. Although Wikipedia credits the Abruzzo region for these, my family comes from the Campania region (near Salerno) as well as an Albanian settlement somewhere in the Cosenza region. And, according to my grandfather, everyone in Italy made these and crediting one region is silly. He's 92 so he knows these things.

Good Enough

I try to keep this blog sunshine and moonbeams but I can't be adequately thankful for this past year without being completely honest about how this past year ended.

Its been an incredible year filled with a new job, new friends, travel, love and really just about anything a girl could want.*

Christmas held family and friends, even a logical sighting at Xian (the only yummy restaurant open in Beverly Hills on Christmas) and more gift cards and knitting books than I can still wrap my head around.

My birthday began at the Bel Air Hotel where we sat next to the Divine Miss M but ended almost going to the emergency room. I didn't go...I'm lucky to have the only pulmonologist on call during his vacation and he walked me through the medications needed to breathe again....medications I hate and will tell each and every one of you not to take unless its those medications or the hospital. But they work. And I blog now after 36 of the toughest hours I've had all year.

Therefore, I begin 2008 humbled and grateful for all that I have.

To my loyal blog readers, I thank you. I hope your 2008 extraordinary.

XOXO,
Jenna

*I must admit, I am still waiting for that Mini Cooper to appear in my driveway, with keys and a title in my name.

A Word On Family

As most of you know, I come from a family so small we all fit into a minivan. I know this, because we all fit into a minivan to go to the rehearsal dinner for my cousin's wedding last year. So, even with my cousin and his now wife we'd still fit into that minivan. Yeah, we're that small. But, we're also incredibly cool, very sweet and entirely lacking in drama. Unfortunately, I only see them about once a year... that whole east coast/west coast thing and my lack of copious amounts of vacation time.

That brings me to my adopted family. What we lack in blood, we make up with history. Mom'n'I were adopted about 29 years ago into a family so big that there are separate cars for the dogs. And no, I'm not kidding. They're exactly 2 miles away. So, we see them about once a week during the low season and about three times a week during high season.*

Why do I tell you this? Ok, I'm getting to that. One of my adopted family members is Michael Callan. Like us, he doesn't share the family name but has been a part of the family for many, many years. He's one of the kindest men I've known, and one heck of a performer. He is best known for originating the part of Riff in the Broadway production of West Side Story. The 50th anniversary was last week and he, as well as the rest of the original cast, were flown to New York to participate in two special, sold-out performances bringing the current and originating casts together.

The clip below was sent to me. I thought it was just incredible. And, therefore, I share it with you. In case you're wondering, Michael is the first one to sing. He enters stage center and begins the performance.

Enjoy.

*High season runs from Thanksgiving to Mother's Day.

Thanksgiving came early

Because of Mom's mad cooking skilz, she's a wee busy this time of year. This week alone, she's already baked dog and people cookies and made two batches of soup. For Thanksgiving, she's doing two turkeys, one for my stepdad and one for the extended family. Then there's the salad and veggies she's making for 33 people. (No, I'm not kidding.) Did I mention she works full time? Yeah, she's a bit busy. I understand this. However, what I didn't understand was the announcement that she wasn't making stuffing. As someone else had that responsibility for the main dinner, she figured she wouldn't do it this year.

That's not funny.

That's like Christmas with no gifts.

That's like Halloween with no costumes.

That's like Jenna with no designer shoes.

We don't joke about things like that.

Needless to say, I was a bit disturbed. Several conversations ensued. Conversations turned to negotiations. The final agreement: in addition to my usual indentured servitude, I would exchange my chopping assistance for her willingness to making stuffing. Completely fair if you ask me.

Tonight, I chopped celery, onions and eight heads of brociflower, giddy with the thought of stuffing tomorrow.

I knew she was doing the stepdad turkey today. What I didn't know is that she stuffed it for me. I'm sitting upstairs knitting a gift and she pages me for turkey. After finishing the row I was on I saunter down:

"There's the stuffing. Its all yours."

(blink, blink) All of it?

"Well, leave a bite for Tony, but yeah, all of it."

Its sick how happy I was about this. I was dancing around the kitchen. It was so good. It was everything I've been waiting for for the last year. My blessed stuffing.

"The hills are alive, with the taste of stuffing...."

Plus, I get more tomorrow from the Turkey she's making for the family dinner. (There's a small group of us who share that stuffing. Everyone else gets the "other stuff." Not that there's anything wrong with that.)

Thanksgiving came early today.

doG bless us, everyone.

Something for new parents to consider

So you think gymnastics would be a good sport for your precious little girl? I agree. Its great training for that pole dancing class she'll take 15 years later.

You're welcome.

Since we're 15 minutes away from Sunday, here's a few bright spots to fill your day:
Erin Fetherston for Target's Go International launches. And we have Felt Club. So little time, so much money to spend!

The Winning Swatches

Couch

Chair

Carpet

Chair

Lamp and window shades

The Whole Room Put Together!

Design Challenge

Here's the house.

Put together a few swatches for the living room. I'll post the winning combination tomorrow.

Happy Mother's Day

Mom actually liked her bag! So exciting.

If you'd like to make this bag, go buy the pattern from Allison. Go now. You'll need to buy yarn at your local yarn shop since she doesn't carry solid color felting yarn. But seriously, Allison has the cutest patterns. And really, if can make them, so you can too.

Of course, Eleanor almost didn't get Mother's Day bag. Mom liked it way more than I expected. (Don't tell Mom I just ordered more yarn from Allison to make her one for her birthday.)

I don't know what's cooler about this bag, that its cute, that its easy or that Allison links to the pattern so you can get it for free. I guess its all good. But the yarn is Noro Kureyon and she has a bunch of different colorways for you. And her prices are pretty damn stellar. But I warn you, once you enter the cult of Noro, you can't ever leave. The color combinations are just amazing.

Anyways, I hope all the moms out there had a great Mother's Day.

New Babies

The shower was good...lots of baby stuff for the mom'n'dad to be. But, as people took pics of people at the party and the happy parents opening gifts, I was very busy taking pictures of myself holding the newest baby in the family.

Isn't she cute? She's going to be huge, seriously.