Mary Marie Candles

I've been waiting, waiting, waiting for the chance to write this post and now the time has finally come:

My good friend Cara, aka the Failed Feminist, has opened her own Etsy shop where she sells her handmade candles! The wonderful thing about these candles is that they're not only made with recycled wax, they're made in reused glass containers Cara finds at garage sales, thrift stores, and such.



You can learn more the candles from Cara herself here.

And then go over to her Etsy shop to see some of the candles yourself. Last time I checked, that cute yellow mug above was still available.

Full disclosure: I bought two for Christmas gifts (er ... maybe for myself) this morning, so you won't see the sunny yellow candle in the vintage juice glass or the cinnamony candle in the Mason jar (with the cute fabric in the lid). Sorry! (Only I'm not really ...)

And check back often, as I'm sure crafty Cara will add more wares to the list soon. (She also makes fabulous yoga mat bags, but you'll have to get in touch with her about that because I haven't seen them in her Etsy shop yet.)

Galactic Pizza

Full disclosure: I have not actually tried Galactic Pizza. Yet. It’s in Minneapolis and I’m in central Illinois, and that’s an awfully long way to drive for a pizza. But I’m dying to try it someday soon.

That’s because I haven’t been face-to-face with a superhero in a long time. Or, come to think of it, ever, unless you count the 6-year-old trick-or-treaters on my doorstep a few weeks ago.

What does that have to do with pizza, you ask? Plenty, when it’s Galactic Pizza.

That’s because my pizza will arrive in style: in a tiny electric car driven by a superhero delivery person clad in colorful spandex. Really. No joke.

Who wouldn't want Captain Awesome showing up, delicious pie made with organic toppings—many of which are sourced locally—in tow?

See for yourself in this video from Planet Green. And be sure to check out their website too to learn all about how Galactic Pizza is a socially responsible company. They purchase renewable wind energy credits for 100 percent of their power, use as much organic and locally sourced produce as possible (without selling the pies at sky-high prices), incorporate hemp products into everything from the menu to the dough, opt for recyclable and biodegradable packaging, recycle nearly everything that comes into the store (they produce only about a bag of garbage every 2 days—pretty amazing for a restaurant), and donate 5 percent of their profits to charity. Cool, huh?

You can bet when I make it to Minneapolis, I’ll be hunting down Galactic Pizza—or, at least, placing a delivery order with them.

How much do you think I’d have to tip the delivery person to get him or her to let me take the electric car for a spin?

Letting Butter Talk (Part 7)

Sigh.

Julie, there's something I've been meaning to tell you. I've been trying to figure out the best way to say it all week but I'm just not sure. So I'm just going to say it.

I want your friends to come back.

I love you and all. I always will. I mean, you're my mom. You saved me from those smelly dogs and those smelly cages. And you feed me way more people food than dad does. And spend way more time with me during the day. (Even though he does have you beat at night.)

But the thing is, your friends are way more fun.

When your friends were here, I didn't have just one woman petting me and chasing me around the living room. I had five. And I didn't have just one woman saying how cute I was. I had five.

Sometimes, they even let me climb onto their laps. And I had more people to sniff. And sniff them I did. It was awesome.

And don't tell dad this, but I like them way more than his friends. When his friends come over, they always go one of two places: to stand out by the grill or down into the basement. Every time. It gets kinda boring. But your friends were all over. They'd sit at the table and pet me and sit on the floor and pet me and sit in the living room and pet me. And we even all hung out in the guest room and whoever wasn't looking at pictures would pet me. Oh, and did I mention they'd pet me?

And they laughed a lot too. I like that. Laughing is great.

But now they're gone.

Sigh.

Won't you tell them to please come back?

Learnin'

If you want to know if our children is learning, I recommend reading the local shopper. You will have learn-ed all you needed to know in no time.



See? I told you that you'd get educatid!

Writing for Lawn & Landscape

I know the topic might not be all that interesting to some of you, but I thought I'd share anyway. I recently started contributing to Lawn & Landscape, a magazine for the original "green" industry (in other words, lawn and landscaping contractors, golf course groundskeepers, etc.). I'm writing an occasional profile for them (when I have time—ha!) about businesses that are doing great things.

I don't do a lot of profile writing in my full-time job so it's a nice change of pace.

Here's the first one: Bright Days for Bryant

And the second: The Road Less Traveled

Another nice thing? I get a byline and a writer bio. Not that it's necessary, but a lot of the writing I do is byline-free, so it's nice to have a few clips that have my name on them!

A Brief Celebration

I am not going to gloat. I promise. I said to myself long before Nov. 4 rolled around that should the outcome that seemed likely actually occur (because you really can never tell when it comes to these things, as anyone who has a memory that last oh, the last eight years or so, can attest), I would not gloat.

And so I won't.

But.

I do have to say, I'm excited. Very excited. I'm not trying to be cliche, although this is cliche because "change" became the buzzword for the campaign, but change is good. Very good. And I'm ready for it.

Even if I do live in a town where the majority of the population wanted a change of face, perhaps, but not a change of party.

Even if I live in a town where, despite the fact Obama easily carried the state, I still voted in a room full of Republicans.

Even if I live in a house where Conservative Boy only finally today stopped pouting and sighing and making comments about he needs to move to Mexico or else quit his job because we're going to become socialists and Uncle Barack will take care of us. (Don't look so aghast. I could not make that up. He really said that.)

Even if I know I'm not going to stop hearing about how terrible the Democrats are for at least the next 4 years.

I don't care. It's worth it.

(And the houseful of liberal women I will be hosting in approximately 24 hours will back me up on that. Watch out, L-town. I'm about to double the Democratic population.)

Green Entertaining

Last week I wrote a post on The Home Know-It-All about green entertaining. Now that it's November and the holidays will be here in no time, why not check it out? It provides some pretty easy tips for throwing a great holiday party without contributing too much to the 25 million tons (yes, you read that right) of holiday waste Americans produce each year.

A Rant About Customer Service

As I briefly mentioned in my last post, when I was in Des Moines last weekend I spent some time in Valley Junction with friends. We were on a mission to help our good friend Lo make a necklace with the gift certificate we gave her for her birthday months before. The gem store is this fantastic shop absolutely filled with strands of beads and precious gemstones (there's one whole room of different pearls—it's outrageous!), and you get to make your own jewelry from all the pretty baubles.

Great idea. In theory. Not so great in execution.

The problem was ... well, there were a few. First of all, it's a fun spot in which to go and wander around. But when you're actually trying to pick out gems for a necklace, it's overwhelming. It took five of us almost two hours to figure out what to make for one necklace. No joke. And the women working there, who were supposed to be helpful, didn't really help at all.

But, finally, the gems were selected. And we sat down to actually string them on the necklace ourselves. Again, cool in theory. Until you realize that even though you did the work of making the necklace yourself, you get charged $5 a strand (there were three) just for stringing the beads yourself.

But we didn't know that until after the fact, when Lo put on her lovely necklace (and it really did turn out really well) and went to pay. And the bill was double what we estimated based on the prices of the beads. Yes, that's right. We got charged a ridiculous amount for twine and clasps, got charged for stringing the beads ourselves, and then had another service fee because it took the woman working there 30 seconds to attach the clasp. We were all horrified at how much it cost.

Oh, and let's also talk about the fact that we were in there for almost two hours and they didn't even offer anyone a beverage (and, much to our chagrin, the only coffee shop in Valley Junction is now closed). And they weren't very friendly to us anyway. In fact, a couple of times they looked at us like we were going to steal gems. Excuse me? Are you kidding?

That's why I have a bit of customer service advice for the owner of the store (as if she's reading):

1. Your store is filled with incredibly expensive beads, and you do a nice job of clearly stating on each stand how much they cost. The least you could do for customers is display—clearly, where everyone can see it—the other charges. They have a right to know that the prices marked on the beads aren't indicative of the final cost.

2. Don't be rude to your customers who are spending a lot of money to do all the work themselves. I shouldn't even have to say that.

3. You have to get people into your store all the time who are absolutely overwhelmed by the bead selection. Hire a staff who can provide real, genuine advice on how people can narrow down their choices, rather than just telling them to "bring in a shirt they like" or "just wander around."

4. If you're running a business where people are spending a couple of hours wandering (and a couple of hundred dollars leaving, in some cases), provide them refreshments. Make it an enjoyable experience, an event. There's a store in the East Village in Des Moines that, on Saturdays, provides complimentary champagne for shoppers. You could even offer water and tea and we would have been happy.

A Journalism School Reunion

I know, I know. There I go again. Leaving you all alone. But I always have somewhat reasonable excuses for disappearing, don't I? This time I was prevented from posting for so long, dear reader, because I was off gallivanting around my old stomping ground, Des Moines, for a long weekend. (And then playing catchup afterward, of course.) Here's a rundown of my latest adventures.

Friday morning. Work in the Lexicon offices. (Yes, that's the custom publishing company I work for, in case you're wondering.)

Friday afternoon. Drake University School of Journalism National Advisory Council meeting. We (a group of young and not-quite-as-young professionals who graduated from the School of Journalism) meet a couple of times a year for updates on what's going on at the school, to provide feedback on curriculum decisions and such, and generally to serve as a sounding board. I'm currently president of the Jr. NAC.

Friday evening. I get to try a new downtown Des Moines restaurant! It's called Sbrocco, and it's a wine bar located right on Court Ave. We drink wine (of course) and dine on tasty fare. Then some of us head out to the first event of the first-ever SJMC reunion: a casual reception at the home of the current director of the journalism school. Then, of course, I meet up with some more friends for a night out in downtown Des Moines. But we have a big day Saturday so we behave ourselves. Really.

Saturday morning. This is really, really exciting. Maybe not for you, but for me. I go to yoga class. I try a new teacher at the new location for Firehouse Yoga, which is the studio I went to all through college. She's great, the space is great, and I am so excited to be back in a yoga class I can hardly contain my glee.

Early Saturday afternoon. I meet up with some friends for lunch at Noodle Zoo. We get to sample wedding cake because one of my friends is getting hitched next summer. It's delicious and I can't stop eating it. Especially the fillings. Raspberry and chocolate ganache? Can you say "heaven"?

Later Saturday afternoon. It's time for some time in Valley Junction, one of my favorite areas of Des Moines. Only rather than wandering aimlessly, we have a mission. We are helping a friend create a necklace at a gem shop there, courtesy of a gift certificate we purchased for her birthday. Sounds like fun, right? Only we hit a few snags along the way. But I'll save that rant for later.

Saturday evening. Time to get ready and head to the big SJMC reunion reception at the Cub Club. (It's at Prinicipal Park, the stadium where the Iowa Cubs play ... I hope it's OK to write "Cubs" on here now. That's still a sensitive subject with Conservative Boy.) Tasty appetizers, wine, and chats with alums and professors. Then, of course, we headed out again, to good ol' El Bait Shop, where they have a gazillion beers to choose from and I of course order a Fat Tire. Always.

I miss Des Moines. It's a terrific place. But man, it's exhausting to go back there. And the drive home on Sunday always stinks. Really stinks.

Understanding Fall Plantings in Chicago

There is something I meant to rant about a few weeks ago after a quick weekend trip to Chicago. And I forgot all about it until today when, while writing all sorts of tips for an eco-friendly 2009 calendar I'm working on, it popped in my head.

Can someone explain to me why city employees (I'm guessing) descend on downtown Chicago in the fall and rip out all of the plantings along Michigan Avenue and the surrounding streets and dump them into giant trucks to be hauled away? They're perfectly good plantings and most still look just fine, thank you. The plantings are replaced with big beautiful mums and other fall flowers, which I have nothing against. But they just tear out thousands of perennials and, I can only assume, throw them away! That is in no way fiscally (yes, I said it) or environmentally responsible.

Dear Chicago, why not plant a beautiful assortment of native perennials that you keep for more than a season? Perhaps you might plant a few annuals here and there to liven things up and add a splash of color, but you could keep the majority of the plantings year-round and still have pretty nice landscaping. Or, if you must tear everything out every season, at least make sure you're doing something reasonable with all that waste. Those plants better be destined for one heck of a compost pile or I am going to be very disappointed in one of my favorite cities.

A Message To Yoplait

Dear Yoplait:

If you are in the market for a new spokesperson (or something like that), I've found the perfect talent for you.



This is Butter. He is a big fan of your yogurt and is the epitomy of strength, health and ... well ... hairiness. Please contact me if you are interested in learning more. All he asks for is some belly rubbing and the chance to lick clean a few containers of yogurt.

Sincerely,
Julie

A Birthday Extravaganza

Tomorrow is my birthday. But it is also one of those days when I have exactly zero free time. So Conservative Boy planned a birthday extravaganza for me this weekend.

He's actually quite good at planning birthday fun.

A couple of years ago, he (along with help from some lovely friends, of course) planned a surprise birthday party for me. And I mean it was a big surprise. I had no clue that anyone was there when walked into my apartment, flipped the lights on, and saw a kitchen full of people shouting happy birthday.

And last year my birthday gift involved a ride through forests bedecked in fall color on the Boone Scenic Railroad, complete with a picnic lunch. See for yourself:



This year's extravaganza began on Friday with lunch at the Blue Dog. Then, that evening, I took my first trip to the town of Clinton for a movie: "Burn After Reading."

Saturday I was allowed Julie Time (aka homework time) all morning and then was informed that we were going on a mystery adventure. Conservative Boy had me thoroughly confused by almost getting on the Interstate to go to Bloomington, then getting on the Interstate to go to Springfield, but then exiting to get on the Interstate to head to Peoria. Our ultimate destination: Mackinaw Valley Winery. (I told you he's good.)



We tasted all sorts of wonderful Illinois-made wines and spent quite a bit of time enjoying near-80-degree weather (with wine, of course) outside on the porch overlooking the vineyard.



They are in the midst of harvesting right now, so many of the rows of vines I traipsed through before we left were still heavy with grapes.



Only in Illinois (well, and maybe Iowa too) do you see vineyards butting up against corn fields.



But the extravaganza wasn't over yet. We attended the first-annual Lobster Boil at the Lincoln Elks. One and a half pounds of fresh lobster plus mussels and oysters? Yum.

And on Sunday, the celebrating continued. First, birthday cake to celebrate C.B.'s cousin Grayson's birthday (and mine too):



And then, shortly thereafter, a birthday BBQ at our house, complete with this delicious grasshopper pie made especially for me by Kid Sister. (Actually, there are two, so if anyone is interested in a piece today or tomorrow, you know where to find me!)



Not a bad birthday extravaganza, eh?

Letting Butter Talk (Part 6)

Hi guys. Have you missed me? Julie has been too busy to let me chat with you lately, but I finally convinced her that I really, really, really needed to say hello. So here I am.



You know, I have been pretty busy lately too if I do say so myself. For one thing, I have decided that the mail man is absolutely, positively, 100 percent a threat to my domain. So at about 8:30 a.m. every morning I wear myself out barking at him and trying to get through the big front window at him. He's lucky there's glass between us because man, I hate it when strangers come up on my front porch.

In addition, I have been very busy destroying this rope toy. Julie took it away from me this weekend, which I'm a little sad about. She said I had to stop playing with it because I destroyed it and it was too slobbery. Too slobbery? Ha. There's no such thing.



Oh well. It was fun while it lasted.



But back to my schedule. It is packed. I mean, I have to take two to three walks every day. And pee on as many things as I possibly can along the way.

I also have to check on Julie throughout the day to make sure she is actually working.

Then when Conservative Boy comes home at night I have to spend at least two hours sitting beside him on the couch in the basement so he can pet me. It's really tough work. But somebody has to do it.

And I have to eat, of course. That is very important because I am a growing boy.

Apparently, I am pretty big. I hear that I weigh about 100 pounds now. When Julie walks me everyone comments on how big I am. I don't really think I'm that big. I mean, I'm just a little puppy. In fact, it puzzles me when people are alarmed at how big I have gotten. What's the big deal?



I'm still small enough to sit on Julie's lap (or, at least I try) when she pets me. So I can't be that big!

Anyway. I have to go now. Conservative Boy is going to wake up in a minute and I have to be ready to follow him around all morning while he prepares for work. It's my job. Like I said, I'm busy.

A Trip to the Pumpkin Patch

In my world, no fall is complete without a trip to the pumpkin patch.



Almost every year I lived in Des Moines, at least a couple of my lovely Drake friends and I would venture to a variety of apple orchards, pumpkin patches, and berry farms in search a fall harvest.

Needless to say, I was little a sad that I couldn't continue the tradition this year. That is, until Conservative Mom and Kid Sister invited me to tag along with them to Gail's Pumpkin Patch on Saturday.

It was the perfect day for pumpkin pickin', and I came home with a veritable harvest of goodies: Mini gourds to display on the kitchen table, three cute little pumpkins for the front step, a bunch of apples from a nearby orchard for making PIE, and some apple cider.

(Conservative Boy is quite sad he missed the outing, of course. OK. Not at all. He's just glad he was around for the apple pie.)

Living with Bears Fans (Part II)

I am writing to inform you that the Bears jerseys are on notice. Conservative Boy was driving back from Des Moines today during the game so neither he nor Butter were wearing their jerseys. And, because the Bears dominated, Conservative Boy believes it is because the jerseys stayed in the closet.

So, at least until the Bears lose, Butter will be able to enjoy his lazy Sundays jersey-free.