hooked

In addition to playing the piano, crocheting is something that has, sadly, been relegated to the 'Skills I Possess But Rarely Utilize' category of my life. As far as hobbies and pastimes go, I love them both dearly, but they are delicate pleasures that often get passed over for easier, less time-consuming pursuits.

Every now and then, I get the itch. So when my close friend and fellow crochet buddy (in fact, she is the one who taught me my first stitches many years ago) called to tell me that she was expecting her first baby, my mind immediately raced to the wee little blanket that I knew I just had to make for him or her.

I gave my friend the blanket at her baby shower a few months ago, and her reaction was everything I hoped it would be:

the taste of summer

'Twas a yummy weekend!









Not pictured are the Raspberry Cream Cheese Bars I made this afternoon, and the Root Beer Floats we had for dessert tonight.

the madness continues...

Friday: We'd planned to get our Christmas tree, but instead, I decided it would be much more fruitful to have a nervous breakdown from the the crushing weight of all the stressful Christmas-related activities. Crying, crossed arms and snippy remarks ensued. In the end, cooler heads prevailed (yes, Aaron) so the night wasn't a total loss. We popped in a favorite movie (that we can both recite verbatim), and worked on the Christmas cards.

Saturday: Addressed and stamped Christmas cards. Went shopping for something to wear to Aaron's office Christmas party that night (with no luck). Ended up wearing boring ivory sweater and brown/ivory pants. Added pearls in attempt to look like demure and proper. At least my hair was working for me.

Sunday: Went to Target to buy wrapping paper, but was completely disappointed to discover a sad, sad, sad selection. (Especially since last year's array was gorgeous -- all blues and silvers and whites, with all sorts of interesting ribbons and adornments). I prefer modern wrappings to all that chintzy traditional stuff, so I really had to stretch to find something I liked and that Aaron could deal with.

MARISA
What kind of leeway do I have, exactly, with the wrapping paper?

AARON (on phone)
Do whatever you want. I'm busy.

MARISA
How about black, white and silver?

AARON (on phone)
THAT'S NOT CHRISTMAS!!
We then went to get our Christmas tree from our favorite lot, and found out that because we waited so long, they were all practically dead. So we went to another lot, didn't find anything, went back to the dead-tree lot, and found an alive-but-not-yet-opened tree. We figured it would be better than nothing -- if it opened into a nice shape, yah! If not, well, at least its not dead.

Today: The Christmas cards are mostly complete, after much heartache and crying and gnashing of teeth. The last step is to insert the photos, but I just found out that the lab is having trouble printing them correctly. And we've tried everything. I have no idea what to do now.

Summation: Is Christmas still about the baby Jesus?

ribbons and rhinestones and cardstock, oh my!

So, maybe it was a bad idea to make my own Christmas cards this year.

It started innocently enough: thoughts of saving money, being creative, and having a one-of-a-kind greeting seeded themselves in my brain and I hit the craft store in a burst of excited energy. What fun! A relaxing Christmas project!

My own naivete astounds me.

This small project has taken on a life of its own. I've changed the design three times, have rushed to Michael's on my lunch hour to purchase extra cardstock (I have to go again today), and have stayed up way past my bedtime designing the layout. Then there was a hilarious evening of trekking through the mountain preserve near our apartment to take a nice Christmas photo to send with the cards. (I might be the first and only person to ever hike with a tube of hairspray in her coat pocket.)

The problem is that I'm too much of a thinking person to let creativity really take the reigns. I get caught up in the perfectionist trap which stresses me out because I am obsessed with doing things the right way. (I know, I know -- there is no "right way" with creative endeavors, and it is that precise lack of structure and organization that keeps me in a perpetual state of frenzy.)

Also, I totally procrastinated and now I'm extra stressed because there is still shopping and decorating to do. We haven't even gotten our tree yet!

Ah, well. The cards are actually turning out quite lovely. I made a final mock-up last night and I'll start production on them tonight! I'm hoping to get them out before the weekend.

So keep checking your mailboxes, boys and girls. When it arrives, slip the card out of its nondescript white envelope, hold it in your hands, and let the sincere Christmas sentiments warm your heart and home.

And then frame it, because I'm never doing this again.

crock pots are magic

Hello, winter! (Finally.)

It's freezing out, the perfect day for some hearty and warm comfort food. But as a working woman of the 21st century (cue the inspirational Mary Tyler Moore music), I don't have the time or energy to devote to a homemade meal. What's a girl to do?

Thank God for crock-pots.

Blearly-eyed and half awake at 6:30 a.m., I unceremoniously dumped the following ingredients into that little magic cauldron.

Large Chuck Roast
A few handfuls of baby carrots
1 pkg. Hidden Valley Ranch Seasoning
1 pkg. Italian Dressing Seasoning
1 pkg. Brown Gravy Seasoning
1/2 Cup of Water

Set to cook on low for 8 hours.

I nabbed this recipe from some random website, and let me tell you: it was soooo good. For something that took me literally three minutes to make, Aaron and I were both pleasantly surprised. I whipped up some garlic mashed potatoes when I got home from work, and we were done eating by 5:45 (which never, EVER happens).

So why am I blogging this insignificant tidbit? Because... you too can be a domestic goddess in 20 minutes or less.

this is how i make him love me

I did some baking this weekend: chocolate-chip cookies and blackberry cobbler. I'd never made a cobbler before; it ended up being perfect and it tasted amazing. (I used this recipe). Eaten with vanilla ice cream? To die for.

Note to self: Next time you decide to bake two things simultaneously (including one thing you've never made before), wait until you have a full-sized kitchen instead of a teeny apartment kitchen that is half the size of your parents walk-in closet and has countertop space that rivals that of a small bathroom.

adventures in container gardening

The weather was gorgeous this weekend, which was all the motivation I needed to spend some time outside enjoying my "garden" (i.e. my patio balcony). Here, some shots of my waxy red begonias displayed against our colorful mosaic patio table, my "blueberry muffin mix" petunias (cutest name EVER), and my flamboyant orange-and-yellow tropical hibiscus.

Un-Domestic Goddess

The worst part of my day is coming home to an empty refrigerator and the realization that dinner will either be a) dining out (which is expensive) or b) fend for yourself (which, in this case, would mean a bowl of plain white rice for me and pizza rolls for him).

Compounded with an overflowing laundry basket and...well, the domestic picture is looking pretty bleak right about now.

Too bad LOST is on tonight or maybe I'd do something about it! Haha! Just kidding!

Not really.

Domestic Goddess

"So, what do you think?"

His fork scrapes against the bowl. Chewing. More chewing.

"It's great!" he says to me, enthusiastically.

Last night, I made Chicken & Dumplings for dinner. I don't cook that often, and when I do I always get a little anxious. And not because Aaron is picky or critical -- no, its all me and my ridiculous need to be good at everything.

I'd never made it before and I could tell he was enjoying it. Satisfied, I leaned back in my chair and watched him clean his plate and then go back for seconds.

And then...he said it. The greatest affirmation of all. The thing that every young newlywed bride secretly (or not-so-secretly) hopes to hear.

"This is better than my mom's."

I know, I know. It's not a competition. But I think that anyone who has ever had a husband that gushes about his mom's amazing spaghetti sauce or the perfect way she used to fold his laundry will agree that sometimes we want a little of that idealization and idolization, too.

The bar was set high for me. My mother-in-law is a sweet, wonderful woman who cooks and bakes without even glancing at a recipe book. She created a warm home for him, filled with love, laughter, and gooey homemade chocolate chip cookies.

I aspire to do the same.