Six Months + Six Dresses #3

Here we are at month three of the ever-popular Six Months + Six Dresses series, and I've got to say, I highly doubt I'll stop at six months.* Not only do I have a closet full of dresses that are just itching for a reason to be worn, I'm adding to said closet all the time. I DARE you to watch me pass a Forever 21 or little boutique thrift store without at least doing a "once-over" through the shop. It's impossible, I tell ya.

*For that reason, Miss Kyla Roma will always have a special place in my heart for inventing the awesomeness that is Six Months+ Six Dresses.

The worst part is, and I know this is totally a non-problem, but I'm actually really quite good a it...shopping, that is. Aside from forensic detective, pastry chef, elementary school teacher, and interior decorator, I think "personal shopper" is one of those things that I could have happily done with my life, had one or two things shifted just slightly.

That's okay that things stayed as-is though, because aside from the fact that I fucking love the direction my life is headed sans crime scenes to investigate and/or raspberry galettes to bake, it leaves the spoils of my shopping efforts to me, me, ME!!!

Take this month's dress, for example. I've had it for years and it's always been my favorite. That said, I've only worn it maybe three measly times.

I guess it's partly because a bright green dress with elephants on it that says "HE NEVER FORGETS" isn't really a dress that's party-ready. It's by far the most unique dress in my closet, and I believe that it's handmade, as there are no tags, no lining, and sturdy but messy stitching.

It fits like a dream though, and I love imagining the girl who made it ages and treasured it as much as I do today.

I guess I've been wrong about it being not "party ready" all these years, if this photo of a slightly tipsy Alie and I in the empty restroom of a soiree we somehow conned someone into inviting us to proves anything (hint: it doesn't).

You can find my past Six Months + Six Dresses posts here and here. And let me know in the comments if you're playing along on your blog!

Giving/Receiving

For a long time, maybe the past year, maybe longer, I had been pretty anti relationship. I wrote about it here, and then retracted my statement in the following post. The thing that nudged me back into the land of the loving (har har) was a fateful Sunday afternoon when I donated blood, and the subsequent loneliness I felt afterwards as I recovered alone from the nausea that followed my bloodletting.

Alone in an unfamiliar room, a gentle breeze wafting through an open window, and the emptiness in my heart when I realized that all I wanted at that moment -- or for the rest of my life, really -- was to have a neck to nuzzle into when things got tough, and a strong arm wrapped around me, reassuring me that someone had my back when the tough got going.

I haven't written many details about the new man in my life. I met him at both of our favorite bar on Valentine's Day - that you know. I approached him because I thought he was handsome and we talked for a bit, laughing at inappropriate jokes and smiling shyly at each other. I awkwardly gave him my number as I left the bar. The next night we had our first date, and it's been pretty much bliss ever since.

An email from a concerned reader last week tipped me off as to the fact that I wasn't doing such a great job portraying this relationship as the life changing one that it is. Although I'm quite candid and try to portray myself as true-to-life as possible here, he is still finding his voice on his blog, and that voice is somewhat snarky. I love the snarky, embittered side of him, but that is just one aspect of him. The truth is, I have never in my entire life been treated as well as he treats me. I'm blown away on a day to day basis.

I mean that sincerely, my mind is blown and I .get it. now. I get why couples steal a kiss in public, I get why people get married, I get the romantic sentiments I used to find endlessly annoying and trite. I used to act the part I think, on some level. This is what a girlfriend does, this is what someone in love acts and feels like. Maybe it's just that I'm bad at remembering the emotions I felt in past relationships, but I don't remember it ever making this much sense.

On Saturday we went to the Elysian Park Police Department to donate blood at a Red Cross event. It was his first time, my third if you count my first failed attempt. He held my hand as they prepped me, making sure I was comfortable and obliging my request for a couple photos to be snapped. I watched across the room from my gurney as he raced to get his over with so that he could take care of me, knowing that I tend to get faint after such an event. He clenched his fist so that his blood would flow quicker, then jumped off his gurney and hurried to my side, quickly realizing that standing up so fast was a bad idea.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, napping under the whir of his ceiling fan and nuzzled by his sweet Corgi, Mona.

Making me laugh while I have a giant needle in my arm? That's fucking dedication.

All of you who commented on my nay-saying post that it would happen when I least expected it? You were so right. And it's better than I could have ever imagined.

Have you ever given blood? I highly recommend it, and I do it as much as allowed. Find a Red Cross blood donation drive here.

Projects Galore

Happy Friday everyone! With just one more work week ahead before I start my 30 day retreat from office life, I've started organizing all the projects I'd like to tackle during my time off. I'm really looking forward to all the little handy things Colin and I will do with our new home, and I hope to contribute with some cute little touches that will add some charm. I'm so happy to have a boyfriend who is not only handy, but has enough tools to fill the under-the-house workspace which he'll use to rebuild old furniture, and other awesome DIY projects we're got planned.


Here are just a few little projects on my ever-growing list:

How darling are these teacup bird feeders??? - We'll have a small front porch and back patio at our new place, and plenty of windows with adorning trees. I'd love to have a bird and hummingbird feeder, not just because it makes me feel like I'm in a Disney movie to have birds flitting about my house, but because I love how batshit the cats get when they spot a bird (or the Goodyear Blimp, in Elvis's case).

Speaking of animals, we'll have my two cats, of course, but also Colin's beloved Corgi. I plan on making and installing these freaking awesome suitcase cat beds up high along the windowsill, so the cats will have a place to retreat when the high energy of the Corgi gets to be a bit too much. Lets hope that they utilize them when they need a moment, instead of resorting to a clawed smack in her darling muzzle.

Bread & Butter Pickles - B&B are my absolute FAVORITE kind of pickles, and to make my own just seems like it would be so damn fulfilling. Aside from these, though, I'd love to make my own jam, these caramels, sauerkraut, kombucha tea, flavoured liqueurs...the list goes on and on.

I'm kind of a plant junkie, thanks to my mother who has the greenest damn thumb in world. It's been a long time since I've had any kind of outdoor space to myself, so I plan to take full advantage of it. These awesome homemade vases will be great for snipping off some sprigs from my outdoor plants, and adorning the house with. The look pretty easy to make, too, and would make a great hostess or housewarming gift, no? They also remind me of Nikola Tesla, whom I am endlessly fascinated with.

I never, ever buy fresh herbs because I inevitably use one sprig, and watch in disappointment as the rest of the bunch rots quickly in my fridge before I can use it. I plan on growing enough of my own herbs in a little planter garden so that I'll never have to spend money on fresh herbs again. Homemade mojitos at my house, everyone!!! Here's another good set of tips for indoor herb gardens.

I really hope I actually get all these things done during my break. I have a hard time ignoring the siren song of a nap, so I know it'll take a ton of effort on my part to actually get my ass in gear. I think the excitement of sharing my progress here on my blog, of course with before/after photos galore, will help me avoid being lazy.

Tell me, what DIY projects have you been dying to tackle? Maybe I'll do them myself and you can live vicariously through me (which I'm sure sounds totally awesome to you...pffft)!

And Beyond

June 25th - The last day of work before my 30 day self imposed "leave of absence" begins.

I have been at my desk job, at a Big Company which shall not be named for over two years. It's tough for me to complain about my job because it's simple and no-frills so I get leave at 5 p.m. everyday and have the evenings and weekends free to not care about Big Company, along with average-good pay and health insurance. Who the hell am I to complain???

But...there's always a but. But it's safe and boring and sometimes I feel so. fucking. empty. every morning and for eight precious hours a day. Hours that I know I'll one day wish I had back to live in a way that feels fulfilling and not wasted chasing a buck.

I've taken to napping away my lunch hour under a desk in an unused portion of the huge office Big Company occupies and I wake up groggy and with my face covered in drool and I waste the remaining hours on some stupid website or watching a depressing show about hoarders or addicts.

So. I have a little money saved up, and I'll be moving into a new home in the beginning of July. I would love nothing more than to put energy into creative endeavors, to focus my attention on my new home and fulfill myself with DIY projects and healthy cooking and making sure the pets are happy. Home-cooked meals, hands-on projects and exercise and trips to the farmer's market.

So that's what I'll be doing for the month of July and maybe beyond...(god I hope "and beyond"). June 25th can't come fast enough.

Bites

Although I hate to admit it, I happen to be one of those asshats who takes photos of their food...like, all the time. Maybe it's because I love staring longingly at food p0rn on the Internet, so naturally assume that everyone else does, too. Or perhaps it's just that I like to document my daily experiences anyway, and food just happens to be a huge part of my life.

Either way, my computer is often overcrowded with random photos of things I had long ago shoveled into my facehole, but can't bear to delete from my life forever. For those of you who don't enjoy such photographs, please excuse me while I, from time to time, treat those of us who do enjoy such documentation to a random post of food photos.

Do you know how totally easy it is to make deviled eggs? If not, stop reading right now.

*looks around to make sure it's only us cooks still reading*

Okay, all you people who actually know how easy these are?? Isn't it rad how excited people get when you bring them to a pot luck?! They think you're Holly Fucking Homemaker when really it took you ten minutes and a dozen couple-days-past-expiration hard boiled eggs.

You: 1 / Everyone else: 0

Extra crispy toast with homemade date butter and cinnamon. The perfect afternoon snack!

Hot dogs from Downtown Dogs. You can put chili, cheese and Frito's on anything and I'll eat it, but this was still a freaking great hot dog. The other, chili-less hot dog had fennel slaw and mustard on it. Also yummy...but chili...oh man I love chili.

Homemade crepes. I added lavender goat cheese and dried figs with a drizzle of honey, all bought from the Echo Park farmer's market. A perfect lazy-Sunday-morning breakfast

I made cupcakes for my birthday celebration this past Tuesday. I've become really fond of (aka addicted to) this salted caramel frosting recipe, which is perfect with Trader Joe's vanilla bean cake mix. It's so easy and everyone goes bananas for the salty sweetness of the frosting. I also made chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting.

Oy vey it's been a gluttonous month so far. This lovely cheesecake was made for me by my lovely boyfriend for my birthday. We've since sat down with two forks and no plates and gorged ourselves on it no less than three times since its inception on Monday. I'm going to wager that it'll be gone by Sunday.

Lunchtime writing session with Alie at an all-you-can-eat Japanese place in Little Tokyo. The food wasn't bad, but wasn't great either, although it did afford me the chance to achieve a lifelong goal: eating my weight in yam tempura. I'm getting hungry just thinking about it.

Cupcakes from Bristol Farms market. Can you tell by now that I have a bit of a sweet tooth?

Although my palate is refined and I do enjoy a fancy meal when my pocketbook allows, I am no snob. This, right here, is the quintessential weekend lunch in my opinion. Oh IKEA meatballs, how you tempt me with your round, gravy-covered saltiness. Also that mac and cheese...my freaking god it was good.

I saved the best for last, as you can plainly see. This, right here, is from the best damn restaurant in Los Angeles. You'd be a fool not to make a special trip to Philippes - the self proclaimed original home of the French Dip sandwich - when you visit LA. Whether or not it's actually the original, it is by far the best, and it's my favorite sandwich in the freaking world. Also, that banana cream pie was stupidly yummy. Also, also they have Stella and Fat Tire on tap.

Thank you, readers, for playing along with my glutinous ramblings! You've been great sports. And now I'm freaking starving and off to find something yummy for lunch. Have a lovely weekend!

Birthday Dinner

Thirty is the new black...or the new twenty nine, actually. I'm thirty years old today, like, right now as I type this, I'm a thirty year old woman. It feels pretty much the same as twenty nine did yesterday, except my finger hurts really badly for some reason, and I'm no longer in my twenties, which is weird.

My last weekend in my twenties went pretty much the same as every other awesome weekend throughout the past year, although there was an expensive dinner thrown in there for good measure (thanks Colin!). We went to the Water Grill, a posh seafood place inside a fancy old building in downtown LA. We did our best "sophisticated" impression, although that facade quickly crumbled while we passed the time waiting for our food by balancing silverware on our faces:

The food was stupidly, insanely good. We even got a dozen oysters (my favorite food for ever and ever amen), which I forgot to take a photo of because I lose all reasoning when a icy plate of oysters are put in front of my face. For two skinny people, Colin and I eat A LOT of food. I think we always surprise the waitstaff where ever we go with the amount of food we order, followed by actually finishing it all. I've always had a healthy appetite and a high metabolism. I hope my thirties don't interfere with that.

Yum...lots of it

Although I don't usually like ordering dessert in fancy restaurants, preferring to sample as many savory things as my stomach can handle, and perhaps eating ice cream in front of the t.v. later that night, there was an item on the dessert menu that was too delicious sounding to pass up: peanut butter & chocolate coulant.

Oh my god it was the best thing I've ever put in my facehole. Before they brought out our dessert, though, the lovely waiter brought me a dish of yummy mango sorbet with a candle in it, and thanked me for being a wonderful guest. He was so sweet!

mango sorbet and peanut butter coulant

Peanut butter ice cream sat atop a warm chocolate cake, that when cut into with ravenous greed, oozed warm peanut butter sauce. Then! sitting next to the cake was a pile of caramel fucking popcorn with mini homemade marshmallows and some banana caramel thing that made me want to cry with happiness. God the whole thing was just so freaking amazing.

Happy and beyond satiated, we basked in the dim light of the restaurant and finished our bottle of wine. It was such a lovely birthday dinner. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect was to celebrate my last Saturday night as a twenty-something.

Cheers everyone! Thanks for being great readers and sticking with me through my turbulent twenties! I hope my thirties entertain and amuse you just as much.

The Last Weekend Of My 20's

I'm turning 30 this Tuesday. Let me repeat that so you have a moment to let that sink in: I'm turning 30 this Tuesday. As in "this coming Tuesday, June 8th." As in THIRTY years old, meaning I won't be in my 20's anymore.

I haven't really discussed it here much because, although last year I had a bit of what you could call a "fucking freak out" when I turned 29, this coming birthday isn't freaking me out that much. Perhaps it's because my life this time last year was a bit of a mess.

I mean, not really a "mess" as I had a job and wonderful friends and a fun party at the abandoned zoo to celebrate, but I wasn't anywhere near what I would define as "successful" nor did I have any clue how to fabricate my life into something that I would define as satisfying or successful by the time I turned 30 (which for some reason seemed like the cutoff date to have figured my life out...stupidly). So I drank a lot, a lot of the time, and then kinda freaked the fuck out.

My life, since the Fucking Freak Out Of Aught Nine, has changed almost completely. I want to say I changed it by being thankful for what I did have, instead of obsessing about what I wasn't, but really, it could have just been that the stars aligned in my favor.

I'm not even going to get into last year's "stuff I want to do before I'm 30 list" (at least not in this blog post), because that was written by someone who was scared of her 30's, and I can say without a doubt, one year later, that my 30's are going to be fucking amazing.

The last year of my 20's saw me making videos with my very best friend for Food Network (online, but still for Food Network), and signed to William freaking Morris agency. I met a guy in a bar on Valentine's Day who has turned out to be the sweetest person I've ever met.

He treats me with so much love an respect I'm baffled on a regular basis as to what I could have possibly done in my past lives to deserve such wonderful treatment. We signed a lease on a cute little house in one of my favorite parts of Los Angeles just this week. My two darling kitties will be moving in with him and his sweet little Corgi in July. I can't wait.

This coming weekend will be my last of my 20's. That's a scary thought, one I hadn't even considered until just a few minutes ago. I had planned on hitting a couple estate sales with the boyfriend, maybe wandering the Pasadena flea market on Sunday, and just kind of taking it easy and eating lots of yummy food. Honestly, I couldn't think of a better way to say a big fat "adieu" to my 20's.

More musings on the craziest decade of my life next week, but for now, I leave you with my altered "about me" description, the original of which I wrote in my early 20's, and have changed to fit what I'm sure will be an amazing ten years to come.

The opening credits fade and we find our protagonist, a human female, just entering her 30's. Lets observe as she becomes a woman who posses the independent spirit she had as a child, with a healthy dash of the self-confidence she possessed as a teenager, and the sense of adventure she had in her 20's.

Watch as she builds her life into the picture-perfect model she has tucked away in the recesses of her mind, successfully avoiding the obstacles she unconsciously places in her own path, all without smudging her make-up.

Vinyl Solution

What makes a house really a "home" to you? Or if you live like me, what makes an almost studio apartment save for the walk-in closet turned bedroom a "home"?

I have so many "things" around my little place. Tchotchkes, knick knacks, waste of money...call them what you will, but when I walk in my door at night, I walk into my own little museum that just screams "Georgia".*

*well not literally "screams", that would just be creepy.

My collection...at least a small part of it.

One thing that was always missing, though, was a functional record player. For some reason or another, that's always been something that alluded me. I remember buying my very first record player as a teenager from Savers (an amazing department store thrift shop that only exists in my dreams now).

It was one of those cabinet types built in the 70's, and worked perfectly in the store, but when I brought it home and laid my first record down on it (Dead Kennedy's Fresh Fruit For Rotting Vegetables)...nothing.

That's kinda been a theme for me and record players: they work perfectly in the store, I get home and excitedly put a record on, and am met with silence on good days, awful screeching and warped noise on bad days.

That's not to say that I don't have a large record collection despite the fact that it was a rare occasion I'd get to play any of them. For those of you who don't understand the draw of owning "vinyl", I guess it's just something you had to have grown up with and held as a badge of coolness as an adolescent to fully understand.

For me, having a solid collection was dire, and many of my high school classes were blown off in order to drive to Huntington Beach for record shopping at Vinyl Solution...a store name I didn't realize was offensive and borderline anti-Semitic until later in my 20's.

Enter my dad's record player. It was the first thing he bought himself after my parent's divorce, as the story goes. That would have been 1985, and this little beast has worked perfectly ever since. No, this is not a tale of this record player's demise as soon as it was gifted to me in my later teens, as it is still in perfect working condition to this day. It's a story of my stupidly giving it to a friend when I moved in with my boyfriend and his "superior" record player some eight years ago.

After that relationship's demise three years ago (possibly due to the fact that said superior record player never materialized???), I have been working every angle to get that friend to give me back what is rightfully mine (or, not really mine since I gave it to her fair and square). My begging and pleading finally paid off a few weeks ago (thanks Annie!!!).

And that, my friends, is how I ended up with a fully functional record player. I swear, hand to heart, that it will never leave the possession of a Hardstark again. Perhaps one day I'll pass it on to my nephew, along with those old Dead Kennedy's records I, of course, still own. Either way, this record player is what has made my one "bedroom" apartment feel like a "home".

Oh, and as if getting my beloved record player back wasn't enough, that same week my big brother gave me all his old cassettes. I remember these fondly from my youth, and I love that his familiar scrawl is written on the home-made tapes.

Where the Phish tape fits in, I have no idea.

Yay.

Okay now you tell me: what possession (besides your animals, cause duh) makes your house a "home"?