I’ve been feeling very nostalgic lately

Robin Hood

(I really hope I wasn’t the only weirdo who had crushes on cartoons when I was little. Yes, I realize he was an animal, but I was probably 5. This is one of those things my family will never let me live down.)

Harry Potter

(The character in the book, not the movie — no offense to Mr. Radcliffe.)

JTT

(self-explanatory)

Any of the requisite cute boys in Mary Kate and Ashley movies

(They all looked exactly the same and were still super crush-worthy.)

Harrison Ford in Star Wars

(I maybe watched this series a million times thanks to my dad.)

Erik von Detten

(Yes, of Disney Channel Movie fame. Don’t even get me started on how Brink is one of the greatest movies of all time)

Christian from BBMak

(I had a boy band phase, ok? Don’t judge, I know you did too. At least they were British, so they’re slightly cool.)

Michael Vartan

(He sucks in Never Been Kissed, but he’s a total hunk spy in Alias.)

Gene Kelly

(I watched a lot of musicals growing up. He’s much cuter in Brigadoon and An American in Paris than in Singing in the Rain.)

Fred Savage in The Wonder Years

(Although this was forever ruined for me by his role as “The Mole” in Austin Powers.)

xo

{this is not even close to our complete collection of magazines, but this is as high as the pile would go before toppling over}

{yes, that’s an old-school Nancy Drew book on the top of the closest pile}

{the big green book in the center is a 19th century edition Gulliver’s Travels that my grandfather gave me, and the Drexel coffee table was a gift from my stepmom}

{the best thing about our apartment is that it gets a ton of light}

{the shelf holds a speaker, our favorite books and other treasures, and a record player on the very bottom shelf}

{we don’t use our dining room very often, but I like to use the table to display a few things, including my beloved antique cheese tray}

{window shelf in the kitchen holds plants, a french press, my LeCreuset teapot, and a framed reminder to do the dishes}

{our entryway — Kelly has a ridiculous amount of hats}

{nightstand}

{Sawyer!}

Kelly got a new camera, so I stole some of the pictures he took of our apartment when he was goofing around this past weekend. Not all of our rooms are pictured, but it was so fun to see all of our little collections and piles of stuff through the lens, so I thought I should post it anyways. I’d love to change a lot of things about our apartment. The kitchen is teeny-tiny, the bathroom is ancient, and our floors creak like crazy. But after 2 years here, this place really feels like home to us.

Here are two very different videos to help get you through any mid-week meltdowns:

1. I found this while randomly browsing Vimeo the other day, and fell in love with this quirky Northern California couple. Their sculptures are really fantastic, and I love the statement that they’re making.

I want to be just like them one day: Happy hippies browsing the beach for tiny plastic goods to make art with.

2. My friend Amanda knows I have a deep love for Corgis (I’m meant to be with one for sure), and sent me what may be my favorite animal video of all time a few months back. It’s an automatic pick-me-up.

xo

It’s funny, I really just made this blog for myself, so sometimes I forget that people read it at all. It’s always a surprise to me to find out someone actually likes it.

Anyways, I’ve never done one of these before, but responding via post really only seemed like the polite thing to do.

So here are 7 weird and random facts (that actually explain a lot) about me:

1. When I was little, I was really into rabbits. My sister had one for years (eons in rabbit time). His name was Black Eyes (Guess why?). During the course of Black Eyes’ life, I had three rabbits: Peter, Fuzzball, and Cinnamon Spice. Despite loving them unconditionally, brushing them constantly, walking them on leashes, and feeding them endless carrots, they all met their demise in slightly unfortunate ways.

2. I have a lot of favorite books that I think have helped shape who I am today, but one that has always been in my top 10 is Roxaboxen. I spent so many summer afternoons outdoors clambering around in the hot, dry grass outside my house, creating towns out of sticks and stones, pretending to make perfumes out of flower petals, and selling overripe oranges from the orange tree to my sister in exchange for pretty rocks — all of which were inspired by Roxaboxen. I still find something so refreshing about this book. The idea of making something so special out of nothing seems so satisfying.

3. I’m in the midst of a becoming a vegetarian. It’s something that I’ve wanted to do for a while (and really tried to put into practice after reading this), and have slowly been easing myself into. I’ve had a tiny slip-up so far (a small bite of a pork sandwich), but other than that I’ve been okay. It’s not as hard as I thought it would be, and I think the fact that I didn’t go cold turkey (and was never really a meat eater to begin with) really helped.

4. I had a serious spy phase. I devoured Nancy Drew books like crazy for a good year, but my obsession really took off once the Harriet the Spy movie came out. I would go down into our yard, and climb this one pine tree as high as I could. I’d sit up there, covered in sap and pine needles, and write down observations of the old man who lived next door. Usually these innocent observations would elaborate into full-blown lies, but I was 10 and could afford to indulge my imagination anytime I wanted.

5. A lot of people are surprised to find out that I’m religious. It’s not something that I talk about very often, but it’s a really important part of my life. I guess I keep it relatively private because I understand that a lot of people find religion generally uncomfortable, and I understand that’s a huge turn off, which is the opposite of how I want people to feel. No one wants to be preached at, and I just feel like that’s not the best way to go about things. And to be quite honest, my views are kind of different from what most people would consider to be traditionally Christian, which can cause some conflict too. But I do consider myself a very spiritual person, and it’s something that will always be a part of my life.

6. I have a tiny hole in my heart. For real! I’ve had it since I was born. It’s called a VSD and I’ve never once had a problem with it, but I love seeing doctors’ faces the first time they listen to my heart. It has a kind of gross swooshing noise when my heart beats. Kelly can’t listen to it because he says he’ll throw up (such a romantic).

7. I hate cutting my hair. Hate it. It just seems like such a waste of money… if I could cut it myself I totally would. Instead, I wait as long as possible, until I just can’t stand it anymore, and then I make an appointment at the Aveda school and get it chopped off for $20. (I know, I’m embarrassingly cheap).

I have a love/hate relationship with New Year’s Resolutions.

Whenever I come up with specific resolutions they inevitably fail. So this year, I’m just not doing them.

Instead, what I’ve decided is this: Above all else, I don’t want my life to become a gigantic to-do list. 

And I’m a big list person. My planner consists of endless grocery/to-do/to-buy lists that, like any mildy OCD person, I take great pleasure in checking and crossing items off of. But what I’ve realized lately is that when I try to do that for the bigger things — the where do I want to be in 5 years and what do I need to do to get there things — it doesn’t really work.

What I want is to be happy.

What I want is to take advantage of the freedom that comes with being young.

What I want is to be okay with making mistakes, but to live with as little regret as possible. 

Part of that means that my expectations shouldn’t be about checking off a big list — they should be about what feels right.

I’m not sure where that’ll take me. But I think following my gut instincts, feeling free to take risks, and sticking to what I believe in will help me get there.

One of my favorite quotes of all time is from Truman Capote: “Failure is the condiment that gives success its flavor.”

I hope that 2012 will be guided by smart decisions and choices, but I want to be okay with making a few stupid ones from time to time. This might be the one point in my life when I can still afford to do that. 

Happy New Year!

xo

(I’ve mentioned my love for listing/sharing menus before. Please bear with me if you don’t share this obsession.)

Christmas Eve: (Mom’s house, Los Gatos CA)

An incredible amount of Italian inspired appetizers: 3 types of bruschetta, salumi and cheeses, and the beautiful platter pictured above.

Fresh California Crab, caught live in Half Moon Bay

Fresh linguini and clams

Gorgonzola and spinach pasta

Citrus Salad

Homemade Tuscan Tomato Soup

Christmas Day: (Dad’s house, San Francisco CA)

The infamous cheese log: a deadly ball of goat cheese, topped with sundried tomatoes, garlic, and basil. Served with home made pita chips.

Perfectly cooked beef tenderloin.

Roasted vegetables: Carrots, sweet potatoes, onions, garlic, and just about anything else you can think of.

Roasted brussels sprouts with lemon and bacon

Fingerling potatoes with herbs

It was a pretty epic two days of food. The main reason I love the holidays is about the food — not necessarily eating it (although that’s obviously a bonus), but preparing it. I love to cook. It’s soothing for me. The process can be chaotic, but there’s something really therapeutic about producing something delicious for people you love. And getting to cook with the people I love is even better.

My little sister was graduating from the University of Arizona, so our whole family trekked down to celebrate. 

I’d never been to Arizona before. I had always meant to go visit Emily in college, but I was always too poor, or too busy, or too wrapped up in my oh-so-important social life. 

Stepping off the plane in Arizona was almost like stepping onto another planet. Everything is so dry, dusty, and red. There are cacti everywhere — growing in clusters like nests of eggs, or standing as tall as any California oak tree. The ground is perfectly flat, until these massive mountains suddenly burst out of the ground.  It felt kind of alien at first, but I loved it. 

It’s funny, because my sister and I always joke about how we’re complete opposites. She’s tall, I’m short. She’s tan, I’m freckled. I’m a writer, she’s an artist. She’s athletic… I am not. And our tastes in everything are on opposite ends of the spectrum.

Walking around Tucson felt like one more thing to add to the list. Her apartment was surrounded by dry dirt and cacti. I saw more than one tumbleweed when I was down there. And she spent the majority of her weekends in college attending pool parties. 

Eugene couldn’t have been more different. It’s cold, damp, and very green. September through April, you spend most weekends sprinting in the rain to huddle over a pitcher of cider at Max’s. Rare bouts of sunshine result in Saturday BBQs and floating the river. 

(then and now)

But I like that we’re opposites. I know Emily does too. When we were little, we used to try so hard to be twins. We would match constantly, and force each other to play the same games and watch the same movies and eat the same foods. As we got older, our differences became more and more obvious, and I’m glad that we embraced them. I think we understand each other more now.

But we still have the same smile, we both crinkle up our noses when we laugh, and we both have my mom’s eyelashes.

I think deep down, we’re very similar.

We are sisters after all. 

xo

At my elementary school, the music room had a gigantic persimmon tree growing next to it. It’s been there forever, so the music room was eventually called Persimmon over time.

Until about 4th grade, I had no idea that a persimmon was even a fruit. Since this was the only context I had heard the word in, I assumed it was either a musical term or some special type of building. It wasn’t until one winter that I noticed the plump orange fruit on the ground. As I nudged a few pieces around with the toe of my black mary-janes, I heard a big wet thwock, screamed, and turned around to see a boy in my grade chucking the sopping fruit at the back of my white polo.

That’s when I learned what a persimmon really was.

Naturally, I haven’t been a huge fan of them since. Not just because of that fateful afternoon, but mostly because the smell of persimmons has really stuck with me. They have kind of a musky, rich scent that I couldn’t get used to. Now, I feel like there’s something earthy and wonderful about them. But when I was 10, tromping past the growing pile of orange goo on the ground made my stomach flip.

Lately, little paper bags stuffed with persimmons have been appearing in our CSA box. Instead of burying them in the box underneath the clementines, I got a burst of courage yesterday and decided to take a few home with me. Inspired by a photo on bliss (which practically made me drool), I roasted bits of persimmon with vanilla, sugar, butter, and cardamom.

It’s hard to roast anything with a bit of fat and spice and have it turn out poorly, but these persimmons were especially delicious. This morning I spooned big heaps of the warm mess onto my oatmeal, and it was absolutely amazing.

I felt very grown up.

(I realize this really isn’t worth an entire blog post, but I find it very exciting)

I currently have three berets: navy blue, bright green, leopard. The leopard one is for special occasions.

 I’m thinking that I could wear one without looking like a total idiot. In fact, they can actually come across as slightly alluring (but we’ll see how that works out for me).

Faye Dunaway totally rocked the beret in Bonnie and Clyde.

I mean, Bridgitte Bardot looked great in anything. But still.

A lot of people hate Mary Tyler Moore. I get that the overly happy thing can be kind of annoying. But I think she’s adorable. She had the best style in her show. 

Audrey had such an international look, so the beret comes a bit easier for her. I like the way she folded it though — pushed a little more towards the front, and as flat as a pancake.

This is exactly what my leopard beret looks like! Technically it’s my sister’s (she wore it for a school photo in the third grade — no joke), but I’ve adopted it for now.

Try not to laugh, but my navy beret is actually from my Molly McIntire costume. Yes, I was obsessed with American Girl dolls (I had Felicity and Molly), and yes, I had the full outfit to match both of them. And yes, I wore them in public. Molly’s was the best though because of the accessories: knee socks, red purse, locket, dickie, and of course the navy beret.

To be honest, I think that’s why I like the beret so much — it makes me feel like I’m playing dress up. 

xo

I have a tiny tea-stained journal that I’ve started writing things down in. It’s mostly just nonsense because that seems to be all my brain can come up with early in the morning/late at night, but still. It might make sense one day.

Monday through Friday, I take the 7:27 bus from the corner outside my apartment to 4th and King, and then hop on the 8:14 train to Palo Alto.

There are just a few regulars on my commute from the Marina, to SOMA, to the start-up heart of Silicon Valley.

-The high school girl with hot pink hair, who always wears fishnets and beat-up Chucks.

-The schoolgirl in her uniform. She has a Ziploc bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos every morning, and she’s always on the phone with her mom. Her mom talks to her about boys, teachers, and the Jonas Brothers all the way from their house to the school, just to make sure she gets there safe and sound.

-The lawyer on my train who calls me “Yellow Shoes Girl.” Not a terribly unique nickname, but I like that he rides his bike to his office and actually noticed my patent Sperrys. He also has thick wire-rimmed glasses, which is an automatic sign of someone awesome — at least in my book.

-The lab kids on their way to Stanford, who always compare notes in hushed voices as we wind through the Peninsula. I’ll strain to overhear any kind of new discovery, but I never know what on Earth they’re talking about anyways.

I always wonder about them, and their lives outside of this completely wretched commute. Every now and then, I jot a little something down about them. They’ve become such characters to me.

Maybe it’s cowardly of me to not walk over and say hi. But I prefer this space. Knowing each other from a distance. And I take a little comfort in the hope that my daily head nod and (awkward) smile brightens their morning a bit.