Those walks.

Klara and I went on "our walk" today. It made me sentimental and melancholy--remembering the journey of my pregnancy and new mom days and exploring the world with Klara--all while walking.

For five years, my next door neighbor and I walked several times a week.

Some days we were bundled up and almost unrecognizable. Other days, we wore as little clothes as possible because it was so scorching hot. We knew our route so well that we never talked about which turn to take; we just walked on auto pilot. That routine of lacing up the shoes, knocking on her door, and walking and talking had a perfect rhythm to it.

She knew my stories, and I knew hers. We almost never spent time together outside of our walks, but we talked from start to finish of that hour-long walk. We joked over and over about our free therapy sessions.

When I got pregnant, I remember wondering if I could make it without throwing up in the bushes (and often having to stop to pee at Las Positas). I remember trying to decide when to tell her. I remember talking  through my pregnancy--and dreaming and freaking out. She listened.

Then Klara came. A few weeks after she came, I told that neighbor that I was ready to start walking again. I timed feedings perfectly to fit those walks in. I fought the new mama blues with walking and talking. We found a new rhythm with a stroller in the mix.

Then she got pregnant, and we talked through her pregnancy. We oohed and awed over her new baby. We dreamed about our daughters' friendship. We talked about those new mom blunders and the beauty of motherhood. We learned to walk single file with two strollers, now.

At the time, I had no idea how much our walks meant to me.

Now I know:
They made me feel less alone.
They helped connect me to my neighborhood.
They forced me to breathe fresh air.

I miss my neighbors, and I miss those walks. I wonder if I can convince her to move back. I need those walks and someone to talk to.

(Also, this is my 700th post. I'm kind of waiting for the confetti to explode around me.)

Nesting

I'm having fun putting together Klara's room. It's really similar to the way it was before, but I'm adding "baby touches."

I'm looking forward to getting her forward-facing book shelves (really $4 spice racks from IKEA, spray painted white) on the walls, and I'm eagerly awaiting the delivery of her dresser (hopefully some time this week)! Little by little, it's coming together!

When I imagine my life just as I'd love for it to be, I'm always home. I'm warm, comfortable, and surrounded by people I love. Today, my life will be just as I've imagined. For that, I am thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Ugh.

I don't recommend subscribing to One Kings Lane e-mails--especially if you like all things home-related. Not that I know anyone who falls into this category and keeps spending money she doesn't have on pottery, table cloths, knives, and beer glasses. It's one of my best/worst finds.

Help me, Rhonda, this stuff is cute.

I want  baby girl just so I can design a nursery. The rooms that make my heart beat faster are always nurseries. Click here for some design delight!

Kirk says,

I was once told that I measure everything on a scale of "cuteness." It's true, and my mom and I share a love for all things cute.

Sometime during my adolescence, my mom undertook a recipe card project of epic proportions. She was tired of not remembering whether or not we liked a recipe in her recipe file, so she decided to start making notes on the cards and then laminating them. When I went away to college, one of my leaving-home-projects was copying my mom's recipe cards, so I have photo copies of her cards in my own recipe file.

I often pull out a recipe and find something written on it like, "Sherry says this is the best pasta she's ever had," "Dawn recommends making these in the crock pot," or "Kirk said, 'Can we just have hot dogs?'"

Tonight, I had my mom over for dinner for sweet potato fries and corn flake chicken. (Sometimes you just gotta.) The recipe card says, "[a picture of a heart] I bake these for a healthier version. Kirk likes them fried better! Kirk couldn't wait to tell Dad about the great chicken Mom made while he was working at Clear Lake 6/96."

It makes me laugh, but it also makes me appreciate my mom. She was always coming up with little systems to make our house run more smoothly (laundry baskets for us to unload our own clean laundry, a white board to keep track of our behavior, and making notes on her recipe cards). None of the systems stuck around very long, but they are sweet reminders of her good intentions.

And...they're just so cute.

This, this I like...

I'm a little obsessed with wallpaper, lately. The only wallpaper I've actually put up is the beadboard wallpaper in my bathroom because I still have nightmares about the country blue and mauve teddy bear border in my childhood room, but...

I want this when I have a munchkin's room to decorate.

This would be pretty darn cute in my master bathroom.

Librarian porn

Design Sponge did a post on book storage. Librarian/English teacher porn, I tell you. (This isn't bad, either.)

A few years ago, I heard a designer say a bookshelf filled with books is too much, and we should break the books up with other "stuff" on the shelves. It made me irrationally angry. Shelves filled with books are so beautiful! I'm thrilled to see the Design Sponge folks seems to "get" that!

Oh, the simple joys ;)

The battle of the condo versus the cottage.

The cottage wins, obviously.

I really would much rather live here. I'm in love.

Pottery Barn under fire.

Catalog Living

This reminds me of Amy Andersen Miller and her declarations about the stupidity of common decorations (the twig balls in the bowl). I always thought they were kind of cute ;)

The bounty of the earth

There are few things I enjoy more than wandering around a farmer's market. Maybe it's the connection to the people who work the land. Perhaps it's the feeling of being a part of the community. More likely, it's the beauty of my kitchen table when I unload my bag. I'm a sucker for simple beauty.

I included the second picture  so you could get a better glance at the amazing market tote/teacher bag/beach bag my mom made me for Easter. I love it! It's this Amy Butler pattern.

Mother's Day Brunch

The herb favors for the mommas

Today is slow--slow in the most beautiful way possible. I'm preparing for the Mother's Day brunch I'm having tomorrow for the mothers in my family. I'm taking time to wrap gifts, decorate, bake, chop, and smell. These are the days when my heart is most content.

How I've kept my TA busy for the last week:

On the menu:

Chocolate chip scones

Sugar-crusted raspberry muffins

Monkey bread

Brunch bake

Farmer's casserole

Chicken salad tea sandwiches

Fruit salad

Strawberry spinach salad

Banana walnut cake with caramel frosting

Chocolate chip walnut bars

Roxanne, Nana, Mom, and me

Nana with Mother and Uncle Joe

Despite the beauty of celebrating our own mothers, Mother's Day can be a really rough day for so many women. Today, I'm thinking about mothers in waiting. My wish for them? Peace.

Oh, just buy it.

Check out  10 Ways to Avoid Having a Home You'll Love at the Nesting Place. 

I would add:

Pass on one-of-a-kind items that catch your eye. Whatever would you do with that?

My philosophy of decorating: If you love it (and can reasonably afford it), buy it for your home--even if you have no idea how it will fit. Does it matter if it "fits" if you truly love it? I spend a silly amount of energy trying convince other people to buy things (for their homes).  Why am I such a pest? It's because I've found that some of my favorite pieces are things I couldn't live without and, at the time, had no idea why. 

People tease me and tell me I should decorate their homes, but I would have no idea how to decorate a home under pressure (and with such detachment). Our homes should be reflections of us and our whims. 

To make that happen, you have to act on those whims and stop being so practical. 

Today's Projects!

I finally sanded and painted my dining room table. I've been talking about painting it since my mom handed it down to me when I moved to college.  It doesn't look like every mom's oak, dining room table from the 80's anymore. Yesss. I'm so excited to not have it constantly covered with a table cloth. 

Using my teapot from Anne for my inspiration, I also painted my kitchen. I like the fresh, funky, retro feel. As Breanna and I were picking out paint colors, I kept saying, "Is this Martha Stewart Blue?" I think I found it. 

When I finish making this house perfect, this is where I want to live. Look at the pictures. This is, no doubt, my dreamiest of dream homes.

Thanks for putting up with my repetitive project posts. It feels good to post about them when they're finished! :)

Painting stuff on my walls.

This is what I did last night:

Yeah, that’s right, I painted a poem on my bedroom wall. Before I even made a plan or figured out if I had a brush that would work, I had brown paint in a little bowl and I was carrying it upstairs. That’s how I do things. I just do them. I drive my perfectionist mother crazy.

To be fair, I did a little research before I started painting. I went to WiseDecor.com and figured out how much it would cost to order the poem in stickers…er decals. I chose a cute font and typed in the poem. The grand total? $400. Where was that paint, again?

For about .5 seconds, I considered trying to write all-fancy-like. Then, I decided to embrace my teacher-writing, throw fancy out the window, and pretend I was writing on my white board at school. Sure some of the lines are crooked and you might not be able to read the poem, but I don’t care. I like it. Crooked lines and all. Life is crooked.

Oh, here are my vintage bird prints from the antique fair. Custom framing isn’t exactly in my budget, so I just mounted them on cute wrapping paper. My mother called it reverse matting or something like that. I call it making do with what you have.

The night before I painted a different wall. What next? I think I will paint my kitchen table. I really need to go back to work.

P.S. My obsession with birds is starting to concern me a little bit. I should take you on a bird-based tour of my home. It’s becoming an aviary. Oh well. Random piece of information: I’m scared of live birds.

The hunt.

The Alameda Point Antiques Faire has been featured in several magazines I read. I cut out the articles, put them away, and hope not to miss the next First-Sunday-of-the-Month. Although I've been watching the website and cutting articles for over a year now, today was my first actual visit. Oh. My. Goodness. I just knew I would love it. My mom and I were in heaven. This is what we came home with:

My mom found antique ceiling tiles and this great bench for her entry way. I found R-E-A-D letters for my classroom, vintage bird prints (from nature guides), cute architectural details, and a new lighting fixture to go above my dining room table,  replacing the oh-so-modern stock fixture that I hate. 

Now that I know what I'm missing, I might not be available on those First Sundays for the rest of my life. You'll know where to find me. 

Toys

I’ve been thinking about toys lately. I know that several of my (albeit grateful) friends are overwhelmed by the sheer volume of toys that their loved ones shower upon their children.
I plan to be intentional about the toys I bring in my home. Made-in-China plastic toys that require no imagination aren’t exactly the ideal toys I have in mind. I’m more interested in this, this, and this, and whole lot less of this.

The space in my home is definitely not unlimited, and I want each “thing” I bring into my home to matter. I don’t want to be one of those over-the-top parents who return everything and don’t let their kids near anything that’s not organic, but I also want my little ones to grow to value imagination and creativity from day one.

How do you/would you deal with this?

By the way, I highly recommend Amanda Soule’s The Creative Family; she is so freakin’ inspiring. Just looking at the pictures on her blog leaves my heart a flutter.

Magnolias and Friendship

[This post is actually from several weeks ago; in the change over to my new computer, I forgot about it. Without further ado:]

I was cheerless this morning. It was quiet, and my ears have been trained to hear the sadness of the silence. The deafening sound of nothing was haunting my ears. I decided to do something about it.

I went to the grocery store to get my goods, opened my blinds and welcomed in the sunshine, turned on the radio, and began baking the most perfect cupcakes ever.

I will go to school on Monday prepared to celebrate one of my favorite teacher’s birthday with sweet cupcakes topped in light pink frosting. There’s nothing like celebrating someone else to make us feel more alive.

Here’s the recipe if you have a free afternoon, or if you need to take an afternoon hostage for therapeutic baking. They’re fabulous.

From At Home with Magnolia (This is my favorite cookbook to “look at” because the photographs are fabulous. This book always leaves me dreaming of a home in the country—and of cupcakes):

Cupcakes
1 ½ cups self-rising flour
1 ¼ cups all-purpose flour
1 cup unsalted butter, softened
2 cups sugar
1 tablespoon freshly grated orange zest
4 large eggs, at room temperature
1 cup orange juice (use a variety without pulp)
1 teaspoon vanilla

Frosting
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 cup whole milk
1 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla

Preheat the oven to 350. Line two 12-cup muffin tins with cupcake papers.

To make the cupcakes:
In a small bowl, combine the flours. Set aside.

In a large bowl, on the medium speed of an electric mixer, cream the butter until smooth. Add the sugar and zest gradually and beat until fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the dry ingredients in three parts, alternating with the orange juice and vanilla. With each addition, beat until the ingredients are incorporated but do not over beat. Using a rubber spatula, scrape down the batter in the bowl to make sure the ingredients are well-blended.

Carefully spoon the batter into the cupcake liners, filling them about three-quarters full. Bake 20-25 minutes. Cool the cupcakes in the tins for 15 minutes. Remove from the tins and cool completely on a wire rack before icing.

To make the frosting:
In a medium-sized saucepan, whisk the flour into the milk until smooth. Place over medium heat and cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture becomes very thick and begins to bubble, 8 to 10 minutes. Cover with waxed paper placed directly on the surface, and cool to room temperature, about 30 minutes.

In a large bowl, on the medium-high speed, beat the butter for three minutes, until smooth and creamy. Gradually add the sugar, beating continuously, and mix until fluffy, for three minutes. Add the vanilla and beat well.

Add the cooled milk mixture, and beat for five minutes, until very smooth and noticeably whiter in color. Cover and refrigerate for 15 minutes (no less and no longer—set a timer!). Use immediately to frost the cupcakes.

Things around my house that make me smile...

My freakish nephews

A neat pile of GRADED essays

Rocco's grandmother's quilts atop the armoire

Jen's pregnant belly (okay, so I drove to Hemet to find this one)

Fresh flowers from outside whispering, " 'tis spring"

"Sweet Baby's" crib (a Craig's List find)

Just in case I can't sleep, I can pamper

Okay. I admit it. I have a little obsession with birds.

Let's have tea! Soon!

Tomorrow's Friday!

I'm sitting on my couch, eating a Cadbury Cream egg (I dream about them starting in June), drinking Diet Coke, listening to my neighborhood frogs, and feeling thankful for my new "reading is sexy" necklace that Jessica just brought by. Beat that, suckas.