Pillow Case (aka Friday Best)

I covet this real live pillow case. A book case loaded with pillows? Some may say it's a waste of space. I say it's ingenious. Something about it just sucks me in and makes me want to stick around a while. Maybe it's the soft, neutral colors (mostly whites!), or the piled stacks and artful organization, or possibly just the novelty of it all. Actually, I don't think it was intended for decor, mostly just storage for the fluff at a fancy design firm. At any rate, I can't wait to try this out myself.

*via Jill*

On Bended Knee

I saw this ad and I loved it so much I wanted to marry it. Just run off to Vegas and get hitched.

Then I saw this one. And I lalalaloved it so much I wanted to cheat on my first love and run away with it on a torrid love affair to Paris. Or perhaps Italy.

Twee Tweed

Nothing says fall fashion quite like tweed. My fashion compass seems to gravitate toward it this time every year. I just can't help myself. Somehow I begin to easily blur the line between want and need. For instance, right now. I'm pretty sure that I really really need this ensemble from J. Crew. I just know it's sitting on the rack screaming my name. It breaks my heart to leave it lonely out there wondering where I am. Maybe I'll just pay it a visit today and see how we get along.

Campbells

It's officially official. Fall is here. It all started when I realized today was the first day I quit craving shave ice and had a hankering for a warm bowl of soup. This was further confirmed when it seemed everyone else had the same idea I did. It took 3 stops before I found a spot that hadn't run out of soup for lunch.

It also makes me miss NYC. Fall is the best best best time of year to be in the city. If I were there today, I'd first of all get me a nice bowl of soup to go from Au Bon Pain in Rockefeller Center, sit down on a bench and enjoy the people watching alongside my soup. Then I'd hop on over to the MOMA to enjoy some more soup, Andy Warhol style.

Best of 9/15 (or FB, Friday Best)

This is the best thing I've seen this week. Too good to pass up? Well, I passed it over and I've been regretting it ever since (I just can't justify buying more stuff when all of my moving boxes aren't even unpacked yet). I lalalalove big plumes of fancy feathers. The possibilities are endless.

Reason #22 I Like Living Outside Manhattan

Costco. Because is there anything, I ask you, more maddening than paying 3x's as much as you should for anything and everything, and then having to heave and ho it all the way home on the stinky subway? Or worse yet, carry it slung over your arms in the middle of a snowstorm while you walk the 20 minutes to your apartment? I love you Manhattan, with all of my heart, but seriously. Sure, you can have your groceries delivered in the city, which is all well and good (especially in winter), but still. They don't always always bring exactly what you ask for, never deliver on time, and don't have the best selection. So it all boils down to ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Triple ugh.

Which brings me to my next point...


I lalalalove Costco. Most recently, for their fake Uggs. Aka, Fuggs. I've got a few pair of the real deal, but refuse to wear them out of doors for fear of them wearing out, getting dirty, scuffed, and chuffed (you may remember in my list of 100 things about me, when I said I've got a huge fear of things wearing out---this absolutely applies to my Uggs). But that's not the point. What is the point, is that last weekend we went to Costco, and what did my wondrous eyes behold? There, just inside the garage-like doorway, were a virtual mountain of Fuggs. Was this too good to be true? I had heard rumors of the existence of these Fuggs from Ashley up in Boston last year. But, alack, had no resources to procure them (i.e., Costco, time, and a car). And even when I did finally make it out of the city to a Costco, they had already sold out and I was informed there would be no more. I had resigned myself to the fact that my dream had died, and I would indeed, have to wear out my Uggs. But no. Costco has once again rescued and revived my dream of having perfect Uggs and ugly Fuggs. $34.99. Are they out of their mind?!? No, they're just Costco. The place where dreams really do come true.

Breakfast of Champions

More often than should be legally allowed, my morning meal consists of this:

Accompanied, naturally, by a can of this, which makes me feel better about the state of things because it's got some vitamins and nutrients and such:

But if I'm feeling extra dangerous, sometimes I just drink this, to ensure that I am positively receiving as little proper nourishment as possible:

I've consumed such copious amounts, that I am certain there has been no other constant in my life quite like these two. Therefore, I can conclusively determine that they are, indeed, the secrets to my success. Those and my big sunglasses, but I can't eat those. They just help me look good.

No need for applause or audible ooohs and aahhs. Not even monetary donations of extreme gratitude. Consider it my gift to you. This one's on the house.

In the Spirit of Award Shows (the Emmys Were On Last Night)

I wouldn't call myself a drama queen, but I'm definitely not the wallflower type either. Suppose I'm somewhere in between. I've got a bit of a penchant for putting people in their place. Or something like that. Not friends, strictly strangers. Mostly weasels.

Like the time the haggard looking man came up to me in the parking lot and asked me for some gas money cuz his car just ran out and he had to make it to work or he was going to lose his job and then he couldn't support his pregnant wife and twins, and I replied, "That's so strange, because I was here last week and the week before, when you approached me, and you told me the exact same thing. You should use all that money you've been collecting to get your gas gauge fixed." True story. Or maybe the time when the burly 6'4" gentleman on the subway tried to push me and shove me out of my pole-positioned spot during rush hour (hey, I gotta have something to hold on to). When I wouldn't budge, he got mouthy with me, so I told him to go pick on someone his own size. I'm 5'0". Also, a true story.

A few weeks ago though, I am certain I got the zinger. You know, the moment when you walk away from a confrontational situation and think to yourself, "That was amazing execution. I could not have scripted that any better. I'm freakin' awesome!" I love the zinger. I live for the zinger. Rarely do moments of intensity come together with such perfection. But lest I get carried away with myself, let me tell you the story. In brevity.

I was irked at a certain someones parking job, which was directly behind and perpendicular to my car, thusly preventing me (and my boat trailer) from backing out. Basically, we formed a 'T', and I could not pull forward out of the spot. After 30 minutes, a herculean effort, and a 50 point turn, we were finally able to squeeze our way out of the spot. Being the good citizen I am, I wrote a friendly note in the dust on the back of the other car telling them they could have done a better job parking. Suddenly, a voice from 100 feet away (who has been sitting there watching me the whole time) thanks me for leaving said note on his car. We get into it, exchange a few comments wherein he tells me he's not they type of person to interrupt people when they are busy (namely, me lifting a boat trailer with bare hands and maneuvering my car within millimeters of his for far too long) and then threatens me with physical violence. Oh no he didn't!!! Yes, he did. I took a deep breath, calmly smiled, and then whammo! Pow! Kablam! Hit him with a zinger so powerful, all he could do was hang his head in shame as I turned on my heel, got in my car, and left him cowering in a cloud of my dust.

Truly an award winning performance.

*update* Initially, I didn't post the exact phrasing of the zinger for fear it may not sound as good as it actually was. But some have asked, so I shall tell. Basically, since he told me he wasn't the type of person to interrupt people when they are busy making hand signals to each other and lifting boat trailers with their bare hands under the heat of the noonday sun, I told him that was fine. However he WAS, apparently, the type of person who had the audacity to threaten and speak to women in such a harsh and degrading tone when he was surrounded by a group of 12 year old boys. Truly an admirable and unbelieveable type of person. Something along those lines. But with great flair and intensity. And I had big sunglasses on for special effect. So there you have it. I'm quite certain I could have won for best dramatic performance in a remote and dusty parking lot. With my sister and her evil care bear stares getting a nod for best supporting actress in the middle of freakin' nowhere.

What the Dr. Ordered

I'm off to The Valley for a few days of R&R. I may still be around, but just in case...

In the meantime, Ashley has written a touching essay about 9-11 (and offers a fabulous book recommendation). World Trade Center used to be my neighborhood. With surrounding buildings still shrouded in black cloth, it's as though the whole area is still mourning. A haunting reminder of our own vulnerability and loved ones lost.

Piece of Cake

Have you ever made a grooms cake before? I hadn't either. Until a few weeks ago. But when asked to do such things, how does one say no? You don't. You grab it by the buttercream and forge full frosting ahead! It was a delightful experience (and a mighty tasty one too, I might add). One that I would take on again, provided the recipients expectations are marginally low.

Here's a list of helpful hints/life lessons learned while grooms caking:

• No matter how hard (or how many times) you try to replicate it with a homemade version, there is no substitute for store-bought-from-a-box Funfetti cake mix (grooms only request: Funfetti). There just isn't, so forget about it.
  
• Based on the above statement, you'd better not assemble that cake until the last minute (night before or later), because as any good baker could, would, and should know...those bottom box cake layers are gonna get squashed like a pancake in no time flat!


• Even if you must resort to using a box cake, there is absolutely no excuse for store bought frosting. None, I tell you...not one. Homemade it must be!


• Finding just the right color of yellow decoratifs for a grooms cake should not be left until the last minute. Or even the last week. It's hard, yo!


• Itsy bitsy yellow dots, are really just perfect little yellow spheres, ideal for rolling off of the cake and bouncing 'round the floor.


• Even if you sweep, mop, and go so far as to wipe the kitchen floor with a damp paper towel on your hands and knees, you'll still find itsy bitsy yellow dots rolling around on your kitchen floor 3 weeks later.

Queen Bee

Named after Audrey Hepburn's closest companion, Miss Famous is the stuff dreams are made of. Sugary sweetness, constant cuddling, bubblegum tongue, and the most human-like characteristics I've ever encountered in a non-human. Seriously. You have to meet her and greet her just to believe it. Even if you aren't a dog lover, she'll make you her closest friend. She's got a wardrobe extensive enough to rival just about anyone. And a magnetic I-could-take-you-or-leave-you personality that draws you in.

She is the cream of the crop. Top of the tops. On this, the day of her birth, I just had to share her. Yes, of course, we celebrate with cakes and biscuits for all.

Hot & Cold

If I ever find a house I want to live in (can you tell I've got househunting on the brain?), these fridges and stoves would be a fun way to spice up a retro looking kitchen. Plus they come in a rainbow of fruit flavors.

12.5

If I ever had the chance to live in Portland, Oregon, I would certainly love to pass my days in these architecturally interesting and green condominiums. They are easy on the eyes and, apparently, the earth. I love the clean lines and the cube-like outdoor areas. The crisp, white interiors paired with earthy wood aren't too bad either. And if you go on a virtual tour, or take a lookey at the photos, the exteriors of the garages are unlike anything I've ever seen before. Why, oh why, can't I find something like this in SLC? We're still searching...

If you're ever in Portland, check 'em out and let me know if they're as cool as I think they are.

NSync

No, not the boy band to which I was a die hard groupie 10 years ago, silly (ok, so maybe it was more like 7 years ago...big deal). I'm talking about voodoo-creepy-gives-you-the-heebie-jeebies-can't-sleep-at night-weirdness. With my own flesh and blood. My sister. Ali wrote a post about a magnificent drive she took this weekend. And posted a picture (she always beats me to it, as she should...she's the one with the neato sweeto camera). I was on that same road this weekend (though not in the car with Ali). I hate to tell ya this, but she's right about everything. Truly a life changing experience...and that's just the huckleberry shakes.

But here's where things start to get weird. I took that exact same picture. EXACT SAME. Give or take about an inch on the left side. Clouds are the same. Background is the same. Silos in the distance are the exact same. Course, mine is a tad less crisp and not nearly as portrait-looking as hers. Like I said, she's the one with the fancy shmancy camera. I've just got a lipstick case point & shoot. So you'll see a mile marker and the reflection of my flash (aaargh!). But you get the idea. Spine tingling, eh? If that doesn't make your hiney cringe across the room and out the door (in the immortal words of Pioneer Woman), I don't know what will.