Buddies

My parents. After 28 years ... still hold hands when they walk down the street. I think it's swell.

Artificial in Every Way

This year, I toyed with the idea of buying a real, live Christmas tree. I thought about driving to a tree farm in Wisconsin and beginning a tradition of La and me chopping down our own tree. But then I had a flashback of one year when my mom and I decided to chop down a tree together. It was definitely one of our finer Lucy and Ethel moments. I'm surprised neither of us were crushed by the tree. I'm also surprised that the tree didn't fly off the minivan during our drive home.

I also remembered that if I were to purchase a real tree, then I'd need a new tree stand, and I'd have to remember to vacuum up the needles. And water the dang thing. Considering the longevity of La's recent Chia Pet, I decided that watering plants ain't my thang.

So. I give you our trusty, old, artificial tree that I dug out of my neighbor's trash five years ago, in all its glittery glory.

I can't really take any credit for how it looks this year. My mom and dad dragged it out of the basement; My mom strung the lights, using three strands more than I did last year (I love how it glows!); Aunt M and La hung the ornaments. All I did was top it with the star and string the garland.

Ain't she a beaut?

Thanksgivin' 09

This year, we decided to host Thanksgiving right here in Chicago. My mom had already been here for two weeks, so my dad and Uncle Aaron drove in on Wednesday evening. Aunt M graciously volunteered to host our holiday celebration at her apartment.

It all started with appetizers. I shamelessly copied these bite-sized pancakes off of chef Melissa.

They were delicious, but Melissa's were better.

Aunt M made some killer jalapeño poppers. She took fresh peppers, scraped out the insides, filled them with all kinds of cheese, wrapped 'em in bacon, and then brushed those suckers with barbeque sauce and baked them. Out of this world, I say. Here's a similar recipe.

We had to watch football, being that it was Thanksgiving. And for the first time, La's puppy dog eyes did nothing to influence the TV channel.

She soon busied herself with a new 100-piece anatomy puzzle that Aunt M already gave La for Christmas. Yes, that's a fun fact about Aunt M. She cannot be trusted with gifts. She HAS to give them away as soon as she buys them, or at least tell you what she got you.

Neat, huh?

We also attempted to get a nice family portrait using the timer on my camera. We ended up with a bunch of very goofy shots.

But, we finally got it right.

Then we got to prepping the Thanksgiving dinner. Things were going great until the unbaked bread tried to take over.

AAAAHHHHH! Run for your lives!!!

That was some big bread. I ended up squashing it down a little and shoving it in the oven before it had a chance to rise again. It worked. Phew.

Aunt M made an incredible turkey and delicious side dishes, like homemade cranberry sauce with apples and oranges, cornbread stuffing, and southern-style greens with a ham shank. I brought the potatoes! And some chocolate mousse! Go me!

We all agreed that it was one of the best Thanksgiving meals we've ever had. I wish I had a good picture of dinner. But I don't. You'll have to trust me that the spread was gorgeous and delicious.

Way to go Aunt M!

Shades of ... you guessed it!

My mom is staying with me all week. It's awesome. She cleans my place, does my laundry, drops off La and picks her up from school. Oh, and paints my hallway for me. (after scraping off the wallpaper that she and Aunt Kathleen painstakingly hung for me a few months ago that I ended up hating. Whoopsies!)

The new paint is gray, of course. Dark gray. Because I LOVE GRAY! Here's a little preview shot ...

I love it. Thanks mama!

Abstract

When you give La your camera, you just never know what will happen. She might take a picture up your sleeve.

... Or maybe one of her own foot.

I love how the dangling camera strap is in focus, and the shoe is blurry. Very artistic.

Bet you can't guess what this furry fluff is.

It's Matilda. The "replacement" puppy. She still has some fur.

And this one's my favorite.

I might frame this one and hang it in my kitchen.

I tried and I failed.

Tonight I ventured out to Skokie, Illinois with La, Aunt M and Kate to attend a book signing. The book was a cookbook written by one of my favorite bloggers, Ree of The Pioneer Woman. She's all that and a bag of chips, if you know what I mean.

This was one of those events that I would not have dreamed about attending when I was in college. But now? This is the stuff I LIVE FOR.

Here's a picture of La picking her wedgie in the foreground, with Ree's (hot) husband and two adorable sons in the background.

Hey. It's the best I could do.

And then came the cute-as-a-button Ree Drummond herself, who is even prettier in real life.

I know. We were BEHIND her. It was the only spot where we weren't feeling over-crowded by overbearing, suburban, home-schooling mothers. (Not that they're bad. They're just ... um ... different?) And. Do you see that crowd??!! The line wrapped all the way up the staircase and around the upper-level banister. Apparently they started handing out spots in line at 9:00 this morning. By the time we strolled in at 7:15 p.m., we ended up with numbers 228, 229, and 230.

After hearing Ree speak, we figured we had a little time to kill, so we sauntered over to Maggiano's for some din-din and a few glasses of wine. We took our time. We mingled. We chatted. We sauntered back to Barnes & Noble around 8:45. And when we walked in, guess what? THE LINE HAD NOT MOVED ONE BIT. It was still 227 people long, no doubt.

So, we gave up. We went home. Defeated. I didn't get to meet Ree Drummond. I didn't get her stinkin' signature either. I didn't get to tell her in person that her dimples make my heart sing.

I am so completely bummed.

And I ended up with a skinny one.

The other morning when we were walking to school, La and I stopped suddenly in front of Baby Gap, turned to face each other, and started laughing like hyenas. The two of us must have looked like a couple of crackpots, doubled over in fits of giggles like that.

The store's new window display features chubby little babies clad in nothing but flannel onesies and woolen hats. And they're holding hands. It's just too much for me to handle.

There ain't nothing like a chubby baby wearing plaid.

By the time I picked her up form school that day, we had both forgotten all about the pudgy lumberjack babies. We cracked up all over again as soon as we passed them.

Sweet, sweet little tubs of chub.

They make me want another one.

(Someday.)

Super Dave Does Vietnam

My dad is in Vietnam for work right now. He's been in Asia for about two weeks now. He's already visited plants in China, Hong Kong, and Singapore (I think). Traveling is a huge part of his job, and has been since I was born. Those Safety Geeks. They sure do get around.

I think he's been relatively healthy this time, thank goodness. The last time he was in Asia, he unknowingly ate some undercooked pigeon (whoopsies!), and Holy Gastrointestinal Heat Batman! Poor fella.

My only question to my father is this: If the guy next to you is wearing a gas mask, shouldn't you be wearing one too??? Hello! TOXIC FUMES.

Hurry home safely daddy! We miss you. And put your dang gas mask on for pete's sake!

Bathtime

La tends to come up with some harebrained ideas every now and again.

For instance, she is in the bathtub right now, whining and yelling and pleading with me to get in the tub with her. Yes indeed. She wants me to climb into that bathtub right now and sit there while she scrubs me down. Does she think I'm crazy?

I walked into the bathroom a second ago to wash her hair, and here's the conversation that ensued:

La: Mom, PUH-LEEEEEZ get in the tub with me.

Me: I already told you. Absolutely not.

La: But, when you get in the tub, the water will get bigger, and then I will be more warmer!

Me: How 'bout I just add some more water?

La: No! I want YOOOOOOUUUUU to come in the WWAAAAATTTER with MEEEEEE ... PLEASE!

Me: No, thanks.

*long pause, wherein I rinse her hair, foolishly believing that she has given up on her nutty idea. But. Note to self: LA NEVER GIVES UP ON THINGS, EVER*

La: Mom, what one do you pick; friends, or not friends?

Me: Friends.

La: Why?

Me: Because I'll always pick "friends" over "not friends."

La: Well, you have to get in the tub if you want to be my friend.

Me: What kind of rule is that?

La: My rule.

Me: I hope you don't use that method to manipulate your school friends.

La: No. I only do that to you.

A Weekend With Hulia

I knew we were in for a zany weekend when La came home from school looking like this on Thursday.

She did it all by herself. Imagine that.

My mama was in town this weekend, and she bought her buddy, Julia, who we call Hulia. She's from Russia, and has the cutest darn accent you ever heard. Hulia is right between my sister and I in age, and we've come to think of her as our adoptive sister. It was great to have her here for the weekend.

Our fun and crazy weekend started as any worthwhile weekend should, with a trip to the blood pressure machine at CVS.

And it culminated at Ann Sather this morning, where we partook in the highest-caloric brunch this city has to offer. Everything at that restaurant comes with two warm, gooey cinnamon rolls on the side. It should be illegal.

There was a whole bunch of stuff that occurred in-between the blood pressure machine and the cinnamon rolls, but I didn't take any photos to prove it. You'll just have to trust me that this weekend was awesome.

And now it's time for bed.

About That Bed

As I mentioned earlier, my bed broke over the weekend. Completely broke. Beyond repair. You know, the one I bought at IKEA five years ago. The one that's made from a couple a chunks of MDF and a few scant sheets of birch veneer, shaved so thin that the only way they could have achieved such a gauge is to have done it with a deli slicer. Shocking that it broke. I know.

Not that I was expecting it to live for a hundred years and be passed down to my children and grandchildren (like the dresser I am cursed with currently possess as a third-generation owner) ... But still. I thought it would at least get me through my twenties.

Here's how it happened. I had some friends in town over the weekend, and we were all hanging out in my bed. I think we all pile into my bed because it's the coziest place in the house. As far as comfort goes, my mattress is beyond heavenly. Meagan, Kristin and I were sitting there chatting when our friend Hadley walked into the room. Now, Hadley weighs all of 100 pounds soaking wet. The very nanosecond that she placed her skinny little knee onto the mattress, the entire bed busted in half and the mattress went plummeting to the ground below. It was hilarious.

Here's the proof. That's one pathetic, broken bed.

I was left with the predicament of having to host another set of guests this weekend, and having nowhere for them to sleep. And also having no budget for a new bed. What to do?

I turned to the makers of the bed that just busted. Yes. I know. "Fool me once" ... yada yada ... WHO CARES! Their beds are cheap. And cheap is good. (Right gramps?)

On Sunday Aunt M, La and I drove out to Schaumburg for an IKEA run. The minute I stepped into the bedding section, I fell in love with this gorgeous specimen:

It even has a pretty name. Lillesand. Maybe I'll name my next daughter after it. And at $150, I was sold.

Turns out, the lovely Lillesand is the only bed made by IKEA that does not come entirely disassembled and crammed cleverly into a 3-foot by 3-foot box. This one's made of sturdy metal, and therefore comes welded together. It requires virtually zero assembly (bonus!). The challenge it does pose, which we've never had to deal with during previous IKEA runs, is HOW THE HELL DO WE FIT IT IN THE HONDA?

Aunt M was all about just tying the darn thing to the roof from the get-go. But have you ever seen that string they give you at IKEA? Think dental floss. DENTAL FLOSS! Dental floss that happens to be securing a metal bed onto your roof, keeping the thing from flying off your car and killing an innocent driver ... All while you navigate the 90-mph lanes of the Eisenhower Expressway THROUGH CHICAGO, home to the craziest drivers in the world.

No way.

Aunt M and I spent a good fifteen minutes trying to cram it into the car any way that we could. It was a half of an inch too large to fit into the back seat, and about 3 inches too wide to be crammed into the trunk. Finally we came to the conclusion that the only way we could get it home was to put our faith in the floss.

Some lady thought it was really funny that the two of us were having such a hard time with this bed. She didn't offer to help us. She did, however offer to take a picture. We look like whack-a-moles.

We secured that bed as well as we could, wrapping the floss around the bed, through the car doors, and all the way back around the bed at least six times, so that the strings were above our heads when we drove. We also tied it to the front bumper and a few other spots on the car.

The whole time we were tying the bed to the car, La was sitting in her car seat, shaking her head, and repeating the words, "I. AM. SO. EMBARRASSED." over and over. I really felt for her. I've been there. We've all been there. I guess it's kind of like how my brother felt in middle school when my mom and dad pulled the minivan into the Aldi parking lot in order to dig a "nice, big, quality" cardboard box out of a dumpster. Except not AT ALL like that, now that I think about it.

Then we drove off, clutching the strings above our heads to anchor the bed to the roof.

I can now say I know how it feels to be a true hillbilly.

We didn't drive far. Our tummies were rumbling, and I had a gift card, so we stopped at P.F. Chang's for some grub. We sat outside because it was gorgeous out, and also so that we could ward off any rooftop bed snatchers who may come a-prowling.

Then, because we already felt like a bunch of hilljacks, we drove the car across the street to the cinema and caught a movie. Yes, we saw A Christmas Carol while my bed sat strapped to the roof of my car.

Then came the VERY SLOOOW drive home with our flashers on the whole way. We were technically going the speed limit, which is 55 on the Eisenhower, but in "Chicago" speed, we might as well have been sitting there with our parking break on reading a road map. It really felt like we were going zero miles per hour. Hence the flashers. There were a few tense moments and one really loud clank that forced me to pull over to the side of the freeway. But, we made it.

Isn't it wonderful?

I love it.

Thanks to Aunt M for being such a help during the retrieval. I don't know if I could have pulled that off on my own.

Very Special Visitors

My two best friends, Meagan and Kristin, were in town for the weekend. I love it when they're here. We laugh, we eat, we shop, we drink, we crawl into bed together in the mornings and snuggle (I know. Creepy.) It's what we do. And then my cheap-ass Ikea Aneboda bed snaps into pieces under our weight. Yes, that really happened.

I even booked a sitter for Saturday night so I could party properly. We hit up De Cero with some pals, and then headed over to Fulton Lounge.

Because I never, ever go out to bars, I forgot that in order to be admitted, one must present a valid form of identification. Whoopsies! I did not pack my ID in my cute silver clutch. But don't worry because I did remember to bring other EXTREMELY essential items like a band-aid and a highlighter.

I realized my mistake while we were at the restaurant, and being that we were way out in the West Loop, there was no going back. I shrugged and thought to myself that if any bouncer were to give me a hard time, I'd just lift my eyebrows as high as they go and point at my wrinkled up forehead while announcing, "if I were twenty, do you think I could do THIS?"

Here's a picture from the lounge. It was the only shot I got of all the girls together that night, and Aunt M happened to have one eye half-closed and the other one crossed (I'm still trying to figure out how she did that). And while she still looked stunning to me, I decided that she may not agree.

Then, because we only live once, some of us decided to head to another bar. And I'll be darned if we weren't the oldest folks in that place by a good 10 years. I'm not kidding. (Incidentally, I had NO TROUBLE getting into that bar whatsoever. All I had to do was say that I forgot my ID and that I promise that I'm over 21 because, heck, I even have a child at home. And then the bouncer was all, "GIRL, YOU LOOKIN' GOOD FOR JUST HAVING A BABY!" And I just smiled, gave him a little wink, and walked on into the bar. No way did I mention that it's been five and a half years since the kid was born.)

We positioned ourselves in the corner of the bar and had ourselves a great time, right there in the pushing-thirty section.

Meagan and Kristin, it was so fun having you here! I miss you both already.

Diva Glam

We had friends in town this weekend, and I have lots to tell, but I'm just too tired right now. For now, here's a picture of La at the start of a shopping day:

She may have looked like a diva, but she acted like an angel all day long ... and really all weekend long. I don't know what's gotten into her, but I'm hoping this new attitude sticks around for a while.

When a Ball Becomes a CAKE

My spirits were low, I mean LOOOOOOOOW tonight. And my patience was worn thinner than a Baked Lays potato chip. There were numerous contributors to my state of mind this evening, most of them involving a certain little person's less-than-desirable mood, but I won't bore you with that drawn-out saga right now.

However. I received a pleasant little surprise just now, which boosted my spirits a bit, unclenched my fists a tad, and lifted my eyebrows from their furrowed positions, where they had been contributing to my ever-deepening forehead wrinkles.

You see, I was at this party on Saturday, and I brought Sauerkraut Balls as an appetizer. The Sauerkraut Ball is a traditional northeast Ohio delicacy. They're delicious. But they're not pretty. Being that it was Halloween, I had planned on sticking green olives into them to make them look like eyeballs, but as it turned out, I just didn't feel like doing that. So I didn't. That's part of why I love being a grown-up. I get to make life-altering decisions like that.

Anyway, a very talented friend of Angela's (and mine!) was at the party. Her name is Melissa, and she's a real, true, bona-fide chef. Like, went-to-culinary-school-and-should-be-running-a-fine-restaurant kind of chef. It's always a daunting thing; bringing food to a party where you know a real chef will be sampling it. Especially when you choose to bring SAUERKRAUT BALLS. (What the hell, Kari??!)

But wouldn't you know it, SHE LIKED MY BALLS GUYS!

Chef Melissa has this blog where you can ask her to recreate a favorite dish, and if she feels inspired by your idea, she'll really cook it. And then she'll post the finished product for the world to see. It's fantastic. So, as any good citizen would do, I logged onto her blog and asked her to perfect my balls.

AND LOOK WHAT SHE DID TO THEM!

MARVELOUS.

You can read how she did it right here. Great job Mel! I feel so inspired!

And y'all thought I was dramatic.

It started Friday evening. La's eyes began to droop and she got a tiny bit feverish (99.6 degrees). She started coughing a little. She threw up all over the place. Twice. And then she fell asleep.

As I laid in bed next to her I hoped and prayed that she would be cured by Saturday so that we could participate in Halloween festivities as planned. As luck would have it, she woke up bright and early, as chipper as ever. No fever. No cough. No nuthin. She ate breakfast. She didn't gak afterward. She ran around the house like a crazy little lady.

I deemed her "not sick," chalked the previous night's episode as a "little food bug," and we proceeded with our plans for the day. And she was fine. Totally normal all day long.

Well, this morning, Sunday, she woke up with a fever and a cough. And next thing I knew she was barfing up her Coco Puffs. (yes, I bought her some Coco Puffs during a moment of weakness. She was sick! And she pouted at me in the cereal aisle! WHAT ELSE COULD I DO.)

I hope to god that she didn't infect anyone at the party last night.

So, we've been taking it easy all day today. We've watched Disney, I made homemade chicken noodle soup (Even the broth, people. It took hours.), we watched more Disney.

And boy. Has she been busting me up with her diva-like melodrama. She's been wearing her sunglasses and toting around an aqua blue Tupperware mixing bowl all day long (the same one I used to barf in as a child ... don't worry. I don't EVER use it to cook ... Usually.), taking it into each room, fearful that she may "toss her cookies" at any moment. She even rests it on her lap and sticks her head inside it as a precaution when she goes to the bathroom. Maybe it's wrong of me, but I find these potty break scenes completely hilarious.

She's something else.

If you've never witnessed La's eyebrows in action, there you have them. THE BROWS. I think I could stare at that last frame of video all day long. I wish I would have kept recording because she held her eyebrows exactly like that, unwavering, for another minute and a half while I rolled on the floor laughing. The louder you laugh, the lower they go.

At least she's funny when she's sick.

Hallow-Weenie

La and I were invited to Angela and Brian's house in Oak Park for Halloween again this year. (or maybe we invited ourselves? I can't remember.) Being out in that town makes me want to pack up and move to the 'burbs. I love it there.

Before we left, La had a moment of uncertainty and decided on a last-minute costume change. She said she didn't like the bee costume because everyone smiles at her when she wears it. OKAY. Isn't that the point? WOMEN, I tell you.

She switched to what she called the "Halloween Fairy." It was a Kaiya Eve ultra-ruffled "pettiskirt" ensemble that Aunt Kathleen bought her a few years ago, with the added touches of fairy wings and a tiara. It turned out cute, but also had the sophistication that La was going for:

Trick-or-treating was involved in the lineup for the evening. La was happy. And spiced warm wine in insulated to-go cups was also involved. Mama was happy.

These little guys below ... Mario and Luigi ... They're Angela and Brian's sweet little nuggets. Oh heavens. They are PRECIOUS.

After trick-or-treating there was a party with lots of yummy food. La went around and snapped a few pictures, including the next three:

(She swears that she tried to photograph Storm's sweet side, but he turned around and mooned her at the last second.)

(Love the off-centered composition. Really highlights that gorgeous fridge.)

I'm so glad La got a photo of these two sweeties. Just look at that delicious little lobster. I wanted to gobble her right up. Too bad I'm allergic.

We left at 8:30 and La immediately passed out in the car. It took us all of 15 minutes to get back into the city, but then we circled the neighborhood for ONE WHOLE HOUR trying to find a parking spot, while I muttered curse words under my breath. The suburbs were really looking good to me last night!

It was a great night. Thanks to the P's for having us!