Remembering

Remember this dress?


And this tie?


And this little piece of paper?



That's right, friends and family. At this time last year, Conservative Hubby and I were getting ready for Thanksgiving dinner and the big (er ... little) wedding.

In fact, right about this time on this day last year my mom was making last-minute alterations to my dress. She did a better job than the seamstress who did the original alterations, even with the rather unfortunate travel sewing kit she used.

This year: No alterations. Plenty of time with family. And a few memories of last year's excitement, of course.

Apple Pie

It's Thanksgiving week, and you know what that means ...

It's time to think pie. Turkey. And more pie. (Oh, and mashed potatoes too, of course. I can't ever forget those.)


To get Thanksgiving week started off right, I made an apple pie last weekend. Only it really wasn't in honor of Thanksgiving at all. I made a pie because (1) I had time, (2) I had some local apples left in the crisper I wanted to use, (3) I finally spent a Williams-Sonoma gift card and so had a lovely new pie dish and some leaf-shaped cutters I wanted to try out.

Now if that isn't enough reason to make a pie, I don't know what is!



And so I made an apple pie.

And then proceeded to not eat a single piece myself. Instead, I gave away pieces to all the (many) wonderful people in our neighborhood and in Conservative Family who helped out with Butter this week.

Don't feel sorry for me. Just because I didn't eat a piece doesn't mean I didn't have any. I'm awfully bad at removing pieces of pie from the dish, so I had my fair share of bites from what was left behind.

Besides, I think I'll have plenty more opportunities for pie-eating this week, don't you?

The Book List

Wow, I should ask for your recommendations more often. What should I wear tomorrow? What should I eat? Where should I go on vacation? Based on the responses for my reading list request, I think you'd guide me pretty well.

Well ... most of you.

I thought I'd share the master list with all of you, in case you're looking for something to read too.

I must say, there's quite a variety of books here. Something for everyone, I guess you could say. Or at least a whole lot of variety for this reader.

I can't promise I'll get to every single book on the list. There may even be a few (I bet you'll never guess which ones) that I intentionally skip. Some I just may miss because I get distracted by other things (what? me? never!). But I'll do my best. Promise.

So, without further ado and in no particular order, here are the book recommendations I received in the comments and through email.

Happy reading to me!

Lucy by Laurence Gonzales (I started reading this the other day and am enjoying it so far)
Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert
The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender
The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson (and the whole series)
Room by Emma Donoghue
Deception Point by Dan Brown
Digital Fortress by Dan Brown
The Alienist by Caleb Carr
Decision Points by George W. Bush
The Passage by Justin Cronin
The Tower, The Zoo and the Tortoise by Julia Stuart
The Strange Case of the Composer and His Judge by Patricia Duncker
Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls (recommended twice)
The Complete Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi
Loving Frank by Nancy Horan
Nickel and Dimed: On (not) getting by in America by Barbara Ehrenreich
Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
Spoken from the Heart by Laura Bush
The History of Love by Nicole Krauss

Your Book Recommendations

Once upon a time I needed some new music. And so I asked you what music I should listen to.

The result was a whole list of great songs and artists, many of whom I still listen to regularly.

So now that I've cut back on the freelancing (finally!) and am only a few days away from submitting the last of my thesis revisions, I've decided to stop over-committing and to cut back on the to-do list making, even just a little bit.

(I know, I know, most of you don't believe me. I've said this sort of thing before. But I really am trying!)

I'm going to spend more time relaxing, more time hanging out, more time doing things I really love.

Like reading.

You know how infrequently in the last couple of years I've read for pleasure? Aside from cramming in as many books as I can on occasional vacations (when I'm usually still trying to cram in freelance work)? Not at all.

I'm going to change that.

But first, I need your help. What book do I need to read right now? What's at the top of your to-read or have-read list? Any genre. Any topic. Any author. Just tell me what I absolutely must read.

And then I'll do my best to tackle your recommendations.

A Halloween Bash

Last weekend, some of our friends made the trip from Des Moines for a visit. So, in honor of their presence and the fact it was the end of October, we threw our first-ever Halloween bash at our basement bar.

It was a good time, with plenty of entertaining costumes. We're talking bounty hunters, Dexter, rodeo queens, the cast of Grease, a beer bottle, a pirate, some fellow from the Swiss Alps, a referee, Joe Dirt. And that's just a random sampling of the crazy characters we had on hand.

(Even Mario and Luigi hit a Warp Zone and made an appearance.)


To go along with the costumes, we put out a few creepy decorations here and there.


Nothing too crazy ... besides, everyone has a graveyard in their basement, right?


Naturally, we served a few treats as well.


I put together a spooky little spread, including pumpkin cupcakes, brownies with Reese's peanut butter cups, caramel apple dip, and more.


And that about sums it up. We ate, we drank, we hung out around the bar. What else is there to do on a Halloween weekend Saturday night?!

The End of Living Loft-Style

I know you're heartbroken, devastated, absolutely torn apart about the title of today's post. "What?" You're crying out, no doubt. "How can this be the end?"

Alas, it is the end because I have exhausted all the photos I took of the loft to end all lofts. Plus, remember it is a loft. In the upstairs of a building in downtown Laramie. In other words, it's not a mansion people. And My Parents only need so much space.

So let's get to the last--but certainly not least--of it.

The kitchen.


And oh what a kitchen it is. Huge and open, with professional-grade appliances and, naturally, a few quirky accents.

The appliances might look black in the photos, but they're actually the color of eggplant. And, as you can see, even the cabinet inserts take an artistic bent. I may not have picked those inserts if this were my kitchen, but they look lovely and they do grow on you when you linger in the room for a while.

Besides, how could you ever complain in this big of a cooking space, with a great layout and room for pretty much every kitchen gadget known to humans?

Had I stayed longer, I would have whipped out the ice cream-maker and pasta-maker and this-maker and that-maker and used it all. But, given time constraints, I had to settle for frying bacon and making pancakes on the built-in griddle on the range. And I had to use the oven and the KitchenAid Mixer to whip up some cookies, which we enjoyed as dessert after a feast of Thai takeout in this cute little dining area.


In the kitchen, once you look past the gadgets and beautiful countertops and colorful appliances, you'll notice a number of interesting details.

Like Buddha sitting on top of the china hutch and other sculptures tucked in nooks in the cabinetry.


Like a telephone on the wall painted in crazy swirls of color.

Like a planter shaped like a woman's head on the windowsill and a Homer Simpson cookie jar that grunts next to it (you can sort of see them in the top photo, though they're awfully hard to make out).

On a side note, should you ever visit My Parents, be warned: Simpsons paraphernalia pop up in the most peculiar places. And no, it's not their personal collection. It came with the loft too.

The end.

Living Loft-Style Part V

Despite my temporary absence, the loft tour isn't quite done yet. Today we're moving on from the media room to some more intimate spaces. They include ...

... My Mom's giant dressing room


... the half bath in the hall


... and the master bedroom,


with a bed so tall My Mom needs a stool to get onto it.


And, perhaps most impressively ...

... the master bathroom.


What a luxurious (and playful) spot to bathe, eh?



(Pardon the photo quality--some snapshots were taken with My Mom's cell phone camera!)

Living Loft-Style (Part IV)

Now that I've shown you the entrance and entryway to My Parents' loft and have shared some of the loft's more colorful history with you, it's time to take a peek at more of the art- and light-filled living spaces in the loft.

First stop: the living room, which is actually two distinct spaces open to one another.

This is where My Sister's favorite mermaid table resides.

In the room, a petite fireplace and stained-glass windows mingle with colorful contemporary furniture (designed by the couple who own the space).


Occasionally, peculiar creatures appear. Like the monkey standing, ready to serve, next to one chaise.


And sometimes, even objects with seemingly normal functions, like this lamp, are anything but ordinary.


Down the hall from the living room is another space for relaxing. It's the media room.

But, naturally, even it manages to surprise.

There's the two-tiered seating area, with comfy couches for lounging while watching films. The movie posters on the walls. The fabric draped across the ceiling so the lights are never too bright, just as it should be in a movie theater.


And yes, this is a movie theater. Because besides the stadium seating there's ...

A giant screen on the wall. Massive. Hooked up to a projector and surround sound that makes the whole place shake.


It's a movie lover's dream (or, in My Dad's case, a sports lover's dream).

Living Loft-Style (Part II)

Yesterday, I introduced you to the front door of the loft My Parents are renting for the next year. Today, I'm going to allow you to peek inside.

This is the entrance to the loft, on the first floor of the building. This is where you must take off your shoes and slip on a pair of slippers before making the trek upstairs.

At the top of the stairs, a lovely statue and four very hip fellows greet you.


On the wall opposite, you'll meet the woman who owns the loft, in the form of a painting of her in her youth. (I only met her once for a moment but she is still this lovely.)


One thing I learned on my brief visit to My Parents' temporary home is that there are so many things to see in the condo you can't possibly take it all in at once.

Case in point: This little bull sitting on the floor in the upstairs entryway. I didn't even notice him in the first 24 hours we were there. In fact, every time you turn around there's another piece of art that escapes notice because there's just too much to see.


Like the smiling gold Buddha above the stairs, which I didn't realize was there until we were leaving the loft the last day of our short visit.


As for more examples of the art, you'll have to wait until tomorrow.

Living Loft-Style

My Parents recently sold their cute little house in Laramie. They sold it because in less than a year they're ditching their jobs and the Wyoming weather and moving to Lake Oconee to begin their retirement. (Although I still staunchly believe they are much too young for that sort of thing.)

In the meantime, they're renting a loft in downtown Laramie. But not just any loft. A loft owned by the couple that owns My Parents' favorite wine bar. A loft owned by a couple that also owns multiple art galleries.



So it should come as no surprise that the loft they remodeled and decorated in downtown Laramie is a bit of an art gallery itself.

Actually, that's an understatement.

It's more than a bit of an art gallery.

So this week, I'll be taking you on a tour of the art gallery-slash-loft my parents are calling home for the next year.

But today, we're not going to go any further than the front door. That's what you saw above. And this is the window beside the front door.



Sorry, Madam Opal isn't in today.

(On a side note, people sometimes leave notes for Madam Opal on the window. My parents find this a source of entertainment. We are still trying to convince My Mom to sit in the window on Halloween and read palms. She's not all that interested, but we have another week yet to change her mind.)

Come back for more tomorrow!

Carrot Cake

Yesterday was my birthday. For my birthday, I made myself a cake.


But not just any cake.

This was a carrot cake.

And not just any carrot cake. It was my grandma’s carrot cake.

I hadn't intended to make a carrot cake. Although just a few weeks ago I told someone how I always used to request Grandma's carrot cake for my birthday, I thought I'd probably have an apple pie or cookies or something like that for my birthday treat instead.

But Wednesday, the day before my birthday, Grandma Collins passed away. She decided it was time to go join her "boyfriend," as she so lovingly called my grandfather.

Grandma made sure she waited for all 11 of her children to gather at her side. And then she decided it was OK to go, that it was time to go see the husband she'd been missing dearly for just over a year.

And so, because Grandma's carrot cake was the only kind of cake I’ve ever truly liked and ever requested regularly, I baked a carrot cake in her honor.

And with each ingredient that went into the bowl, I added a memory of Grandma Collins.

Naturally, my memories began in the kitchen, not only with her carrot cake but also with the amazing fried chicken she’d make. With the bright red hot dogs she’d boil in a pot on the stove for us kids when we stayed at her house. With the tin of chocolate chip cookies she kept on the counter—always with a slice of white bread to keep the cookies soft.

There were the colorful plastic mugs she bought so each grandkid would have his or her own special cup for drinking water or Squirt or milk whenever we’d come to visit. The countertop dishwasher she’d hook up to the sink after dinner was done. The big pantry full of surprises just outside the kitchen in their little apartment.

At the kitchen table, we played board games (Scrabble, naturally, was a favorite) and twisted colorful string together into friendship bracelets.

Some of the items from the kitchen found other uses in our visits to Grandma—particularly her mixing spoons, which always served as our microphones as we performed along with Lawrence Welk in the living room.

In that living room, Grandma’s wooden rocker with the soft cushions always sat to the right of Grandpa’s big recliner. On her footstool, which also rocked, without fail you would find a crossword dictionary and a folded, half-finished crossword puzzle.

In that living room, I remember spending many afternoons watching Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy and the news with my grandparents. I remember the hard candies—Werther’s and peppermints and those little bright yellow butterscotch disks—she kept on an end table for whoever needed a treat.

Grandma was always kind and generous when us grandkids visited (which was often)—letting us whip up magic elixirs with her lotions and creams and perfumes in the bathroom, allowing us to take over their bedroom when we were older so we could sprawl across the bed and watch first Nick At Nite and later whatever music videos came on MTV. She watched over us while we played recklessly in the backyard, hopping over the creek and squealing at snakes.

Grandma was the one who encouraged Grandpa to show us just once more how he could squeeze water from a rock. She was the one who would turn around in the front seat of the car and remind us kids—always, without fail, no matter our age—that the car wouldn’t start until all seat belts were buckled.

Whenever things went wrong, Grandma was there with a hug. Or a cookie. Or a piece of her carrot cake. Even when things went well, she was there with the same.

But here’s the thing about carrot cake. You can’t have carrot cake without cream cheese frosting.


And that’s the thing with Grandma—you can’t have Grandma without Grandpa.

Grandma was a strong-willed, independent woman until the end, with a feisty streak she shared with all the Collins women. But in my memories, whenever Grandma is there, Grandpa is there too.

So, as hard as it is to think that she’s gone, it’s OK. Because now she’s back with Grandpa, where she's happiest.

And she’s left us all more memories than we can count ... and, of course, the recipe for her carrot cake.

Building a Hoop House

On Sunday, I participated in a 10/10/10 Global Work Party at Jubilee Farm in Springfield. My task for the day: helping to build a hoop house, which will extend the growing season on the farm.

You can get a peek at the hoop house here.

It was a bit of work but beautiful weather. Unfortunately, things progressed slowly because there were only a few of us working at one time, so I never got to see the finished product. But that just gives me an excuse to go back.

On a side note, Jubilee Farm is an awesome place to visit. It's a small working farm run by a group of Domenican sisters. They have a CSA and grow lovely produce sans pesticides (basically, what they do is organic farming without officially being able to call it organic). They're always looking for help, so if you get the urge to pull some weeds or pick some produce, go visit! While you're there, be sure to check out all the cool stuff they have on their land, including a pottery studio and a labyrinth. For real.

Scenes from the City

I am a slacker. I haven't even shared my Chicago photos with you yet, and it's been weeks since we were there. How very bad of me.


Then again, I'm pretty sure you've seen similar photos before on my previous excursions to the big city. But the views from the condo where we stayed are so gorgeous, I figure you can endure a few more snapshots.


Particularly since the weather was lovely while we were.

I didn't just stay inside taking photos the whole weekend, though. I made Conservative Hubby get up close and personal with the bean in Millennium Park. (Which, by the way, he said made him dizzy. Sissy.)


The next day, I met one of my lovely friends for coffee and another mosey around Millennium Park and down Michigan Avenue. While watching this face spit water, we are pretty sure we spotted Dwight from The Office. Like, very sure. But we played it cool. That's what we do.

(And no, that's not him in the green coat. Don't be silly.)


Of course there was a Cubs game involved, too. A very chilly Cubs game, but one with a great view. Sadly, the Cards won. But we won't dwell on that.

A Cozy Cup

At the Minnesota wedding I attended a few weekends ago, my crafty friend Cara knitted little coffee cozies for all the guests. I was totally smitten.

The next weekend, in Chicago, I made use of mine instead of snagging a little disposable cardboard cuff when I sipped coffee and wandered around the city.

And Conservative Hubby used the lovely little cozie too. Only he relied on it to keep his hands warm while he drank a beverage of a different sort at the chilly Cubs game.

Hipster beer cozies: Brilliant!

Pumpkin Pancakes

The perfect fall Sunday involves brunch. Specifically bacon, eggs, and pumpkin pancakes.

Yes, pumpkin pancakes.


Conservative Hubby found the recipe in a recent issue of Men's Health and decided we had to try it. He really had to twist my arm.

The pancakes were good. Kind of like eating pumpkin pie for breakfast. In other words, they were sweet and rich and heavenly and pumpkin-y.

I recommend you try them next weekend. Or tomorrow night. Breakfast for dinner anyone?

And if you're really in the fall spirit, serve your pumpkin pancakes with apple cider. I highly recommend that.