weekend house
sunday afternoon, when my work week is finally done, i identify my target {bed}, lock in, aim body, and fire in for my long-awaited {well-deserved} nap.
the sounds of our house stir me into sweet compose.
at first blush a baby might even find the silence too still and lull.
but sit a moment.
eyes closed.
the house breathes, beats and reverberates a peaceful lullaby:
from our bedroom i can hear harbor boats blast their booming, deep hulled tenor as they signal around the bay; soulful hellos boasting their years here on the water.
downstairs the percussion pants of de-conditioned beasts unaccustomed to neighborhood walks in the springtime sun, beat time to creaking, cracking ankles of the beast walker; no longer the tennis star he was in his youth.
snip, snip, snap sound the garden sheers of my neighbor miles. retired, he tends to his japanese boxwood with the love and care of an old-fashioned courtship. next he attempts to tame his wild, unruly, hot-pink, tea roses who crisscross his white pickets with the sass and rebellion of a teenager. sadie, his portuguese water puppy, plays bunny-rabbit throughout the yard, greeting all who walk by with a lick and a hop.
a sleepy smile escapes my slumber when i hear my beloved sock slippering the hard wood halls, office to den, to check an occasional basketball score, and scour the pantry for something chocolatey and sweet.
squeaky wheels peep from the kids on their cruisers pedaling home from the beach. cheeks burned, sand in their suits.
weekend coming to a close. just like my nap.
i've always thought i looked my best after a nap. even with my eyes a little puffy, hair a bit here and there. i'm my most katie after my naps. especially on sunday afternoons.
especially in the quiet of my house.
a weekend recipe
caffeinated courage.
lithe ambition.
a dance with dairy.
fire in the belly.
fire in the wood oven.
rinse, repeat and lather.
party people
i went to a birthday party this weekend. stag.
hunkiest was out town at party of his own; of a stag nature as well.
yet the naughty these boys seemed to have found was of whiskey and lack of bug spray like.
for all his clinker and glee as he packs up his shiny 9 iron and polished 3 wood, that boy never fails to ring home, like a kid sick at camp, wishing to be picked up early.
he asks me what the beasts are doing, as if by some miracle they've suddenly acquired a new, people, {opposable thumb requiring} skill since he left town.
um, they're doing math homework??!? they're sleeping of course!! that's what our beasts DO baby.
we count the days, sometimes hours until he walks back through the door to his "family".
silly, but it's the kind of thing that still has me plan outfits days before i see him.....my brain's always working on our next date.
although hunky and i do enjoy each other's smile, chat and smooch, one of our strongest suits is our ability to hang separately.
at my party, the beautiful birthday girl wore a sash of pink and a tiara of tinsel;
i walked in knowing few and left loving many.
i wrapped my heart around a freckled girl with amber hair, who sat for hours with a strawberry taking each and every single seed off the pretty fruit; just because it felt scientific. she was sweeter than any candy colored cupcakes we ate together.
i ate a cobbler baked with berries and i felt a baby boy, who although won't officially be here until june, make his party presence felt in his momma's stomach.
a grand time had by moi'...and i couldn't wait to ring up my beloved and share.
march
true to form, monsieur march came in like a lion;
surly and base, big paws swiping madly in the air.
agile as a cat, i luckily avoided any pops or scrapes to the face and bod.
silly little lions can't knock me down;
i'm always ready for a nice tangle and scrap.
scratch that. not true. pants on fire.
i HATE confrontation.
i'm quite the chicken.
cluck. cluck.
i'd rather hold my tongue than rumble.
my legs have a nice cozy spot for my tail.
but with all the bumps and barnacles i must share what else march has tendered:
homemade key lime pie.
mumford and son's tickets.
this year's first bloom of my jasmine plant.
a friday evening of french cuisine and friends.
new screen doors throughout the house.
a family dinner.
new bedroom furniture.
my dad's birthday.
my mom's beautiful smile.
spin and pilates students giving me goosebumps with their dedication.
blog posts making me cry, scream with laughter, and happy dance {sometimes all at once}.
my beasts discovering the art of spooning.
plum blossom bath soap.
pink nails.
hunkiest.
and finally the privilege of talking to you m'loves.
thursday happy to you!
weekend happy
just a little closer please.
one more step.
weekend what took you so long?
forgive me if i grip a bit tighter than typical.
this girl may get a little greedy with your time.
hope you don't mind.
weekend happy to you m'loves
tickling my toes
just a few things making me silly happy.
buds refusing to bow down to the bully of frost and freeze;
defiantly, flamboyantly blooming big bowfuls of petal for our cold winter favor.
birthday cakes are on the brain.
i'm completely heart sweet on this sugary vanilla, heavy on the frosting {save me the rose please} happy pastry.
tis so hard for me to remain completely grown-up diving into a slice of said prettied delight; my legs often pop into a spontaneous, uncontrollable happy dance underneath the dining room table.
how 'bout we all pop over to jamie's for a slice? childish dance party optional.
she's another, that jamie girl, who can make me giddy glee.
also getting my goose greased gay are my tim mcgraw worthy clodhoppers.
thudding me up and down the town, always paired with the frilliest skirts and dresses my closet can proffer.
let's not forget my daily date{s} with bathtub.
today my window to a better, brighter, kinder world has a little less streaking.
a new path paved with possiblity....and pink {big smile} is always available for me to walk about.
i know this to be truer than the bluest of true.
an afternoon, or {gasp} even more scandalous, a morning tryst with mr sandman may not just be a pipe dream one of these days.
a reignited my romance with my kitchen.
after 12 days with the flu the thought of anyone else handling my food made an already fussy stomach even more flustered and overwrought.
i'm actually tasting food in its perfect form again; not covered up in sugar, salt and other additives.
this could get addictive.
date night.
hunkiest and i start planning our next outing while in the midst of our current rendezvous.
so much for living in the moment.
but our time together is so limited, and the word precious even seems flippant.
we're fierce with this allotment.
we look forward to it all week, and still feel like they end oh too early.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6e_rGR9ItRY]
this song is currently burning up my ipod.
and you!
you elate me my loves. the emails, comments, those who agree and disagree. those who have nothing to say.
i love you all.
i'm tickled totally.
a new york minute
scenes from a weekend
hunkiest channeling helmut newton.
one enchanted evening indeed. cue the lights a'twinkle.
a bride brighter than the shiniest of chandeliers.
sugar.
a soirée befit for zelda and f. scott.
l'amour.
shopping.
the felines.
rapture.
debauchery and dancing at the boom boom room....as well as a jason wu sighting.
can you say swoon?
redemption at the bowery.
housewife happy
first off, i seriously hope this is the closest i ever get to fur.
but many thanks to the folks at locale magazine for asking me to take part in their 'actual oc wives' story.
much to bravotv's chagrin we aren't all velour, track suit donned, trout lipped, twilight obsessed, back-stabbing wrecked trains.
some of us work 'round the clock, would rather go naked than wear bebe, and can sit for hours {in fantasy world there'd be that kind of time} discussing everything from yesterday's bahrain protests to our local homeless veterans, and how we can help them {sometimes just a hug or a cup of coffee}.
this past weekend i told hunky i am ceasing fire on orange county.
although a native, for as long as i can remember i have blitzed my hometown for its superficiality and conservative tendencies.
never feeling comfortable in my own O.C. skin i've always gravitated toward san francisco, los angeles or new york.
my grit quota never quite being met in land o'la-la.
but i've called a truce.
some of the most wonderful, like-minded people i've ever met live right here in my hood.
a hood with the most beautiful year 'round weather anyone could buy....a lot of them do.
my loved ones are just a car ride away; i can see the ocean from my front door.
my hunger for culture, knowledge and stimulation is constantly sated.
it's me who just has to stay eternally curious.
orange county didn't suck. my attitude did.
valentine happy
typically i'm not fond of february 14th.
too much red {my color liked least} and too little spontaneity.
hunky and i choose to celebrate everyday as valentines rather than designate one silly day.
{pause for involuntary gag}
but just in case,
this one wacky year (oh those silly rabbits),
let's just say hunkiest couldn't bear the thought of his bride going gift-less, this day of lovers' sweet.
i've compiled a list {websites included honey} to guide him into gifting.
dreams caught and evil spirits thwarted with my pretty new pendant.
my inner alice in wonderland forever quenched in the high back cushion of a new chair.
navy and black. my new favorite combo bite. a side of sequins for dipping.
strappy stellas for stomping and romping 'round town.
a second stalactite for all of my costume changes. romping and stomping can get a girl a sweaty y'know.
no fancy words or pleas here, other than.....i'm out of my perfume baby.
doesn't matter if i don't have anywhere to where it. what matters is that it becomes mine.
doesn't hurt to ask.
in the end, if there are no bows to untie, no champagne to sip, no new pups to potty;
i cry stupid, ugly, re-united with your long lost sister you never knew you had, tears, at how lucky i am to have this man by my side. it truly is valentines day around here all year long.
the presents have already been opened.
date night
hunky and i continue the courting into our third year of marital happy.
we adhere to a strict date night rule.
{basically only that we have one, once a week}
me and him. him and me. face to face. well, more like my forehead to his chest. he is rather tall, my fella.
he talks, i jabber, he listens, i devour, he laughs, i shriek.
he smiles. i melt.
and although he typically misses the fashion fabulousness i bring to our evening's out,
he never neglects to make me feel choice and only.
maybe it was truffle oil frisée or the french fries with cinnamon ketchup?
but this weekend's date night still has me blushing.
busted
i have a problem.
i can't stop eating the peanut butter in our house.
right there out of the jar.
heinous and uncouth.
please, if ever you are our guest, and are offered a sandwich with this said condiment, insist that we use a fresh, unopened bottle. otherwise you are subject to a peanut butter ravaged and abased with my passed, unstoppable spoon dips.
i try to qualify my food crime with buying organic, unsalted, sugar-free peanut butter. in the end though, when you're scraping the bottom of the glass, and your peasant blouse fits like lycra.....does it really matter?
last week i had had enough. i trash canned ALL the peanut butter in the house.
out of sight out of mind. out of my mouth.
{maybe the silverware will go next}
all was going so well until hunky hubby wanted his saturday peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
him: where's all the peanut butter?
me: uh. well, ah...hmm. ahh....don't i look cute in this dress?
20 minutes later my beloved returned from the market with a jar of.....skippy.
skippy?!!!??
skippy, in like annette funicello?
skippy, where the ingredient list has sugar before peanuts?
if ever a label could boast its hydrogenated oil content this one does.
remind me of this when i'm checking in for my bypass surgery.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dXxZufU13qQ]
happy monday m'loves, this youtube walk down memory lane has me major crushing on annette's hair; i'm dashing to the salon.
oh, and yes, i finished that goddamn jar of skippy too.
click image for source
happy weekend
dears, what's on your weekend docket?
last night's tea-spoon serving of sleep has me nutty for a nap.
i'm already lining up a giant, non-stop, shut-eye marathon.
i can't complain. last evening's late night revelry was joshua radin induced.
hunky hubby and i had hollywood date night (courtesy of my friend mrs. burns) at the music box for our favorite singer/songwriter.
i'm not sure if it was the live music or the time with hh outside our pocket of pattern, but even with the snippet of sleep, i have recovered a stirring of spirit which had been astray.
off to the weekend i go, a sparkle in my heart restored.
happy weekend
my sweets,
what yummy concoctions of bustle have you whipped up for the weekend?
hh and i are finally celebrating year #2 of marital bliss {albeit a bit tardy} at a local resort.
for the second anniversary, it is customary to gift cotton.
i'll double dip my chip into that salsa bowl of tradition:
i just wish these linens came with their own handwasher.
preferably something in an ed burns/mark ruffalo mashup.
still nowhere near as hunky as the mister though.
happy weekend loves.
hang with me
the last few days it's been dance party usa around here.
{behind closed doors of course...face is still a bit grizzly}
all summer long i've been waiting to buy this song on itunes.
it's here, and the beasts and i are shimmying & hipshaking ourselves silly on repeat.
now if only i could have a giant sock hop with all of you; where, with arms in the air, we'd twirl, giggle, and bounce silly to this happy song.
here's to finding your inner disco.
operation SWEET
earlier this week hh and his pal ted, aka bert and ernie, found some rather high horses to poise atop.
there, they both boasted, ad nauseum, their expertise in deciphering the varying choices of vanilla ice cream the world has to offer. i'm pretty sure i remember the words:
no, chance we couldn't tell french vanilla from vanilla bean from vanilla. etc....
it was if i had asked these two apes what their middle names were; which, given the right day, might take them a beat or two.
if smug were an outfit, these two would have chain stores rivaling GAP.
my hands were tied. i had to challenge this non-sensical big talk.
i went to ralphs and purchased EVERY flavor of vanilla ice cream i could find.
second, came the blindfolds.
the girls, i think, just wanted some ice cream.....
this is where it started to get a little patty hearst for my taste......
each was given a sheet of paper with the names of the vanillas. they merely had to number the order in which they tasted.
the most correct was..................two.
hunky hubby ernie got them all wrong. {big smile}
you would think victory would be my most coveted memory of said evening, but tis not.
this here momofuku crack pie (aptly named) is still coursing through my memory veins fondly.
after making us the entire momofuku meal of miso cod, brown rice, stir fried, farmers market vegetables, and berries, bert finished it off with homemade crack pie.
he is officially forgiven for any prior vanilla pomposity.
kreativ blogger
i'm sure there was some sort of mistake.
i'm so not worthy of such an award,
but, in what i suspect was copious amount of black tar heroin consumption,
the divine deborah of dumbwit tellher bestowed the very generous kreativ blogger badge upon moi.
to say i have procrastinated is putting it mildly: she gifted me march 1st.
tis how i roll. i'm still sending out wedding invitations, and we're coming up on our 2nd year anniversary.
i tend to fall behind.
part of my hesitance has been the job of summoning up 7 personal items of substance and circumstance to impart upon, you, my loveliest of readers.
i can easily give you 7 things that are annoying and compulsive. but the former......i gots nuttin.
rather than try to dazzle i will go for the informative route. these may not be sparkly, antic facts, but all are true and differentiate me from the all the other mouthy, half-japanese/half caucasian, childless, compulsive eating, newport beach housewives around here.
1. i am terrified i will be the worst mother ever. we're talking joan crawford style wretched. i'm in love with a baby i haven't even conceived. but i'm deathly afraid said child will be asking hh for someone more adept and competent with her first words.
2. i love gummi bears. but only the haribo brand. and only the orange and yellow bears. i won't touch red, white and green. they taste like someone else's regurgitated jello shots: a senior graduation trip to puerta vallarta i'm still trying to forget.
3. i like to have things planned way ahead of time. and i make lists like ina garten makes cobblers.
i'm a moronic-scheduling-maniac, who writes everything done in my filofax (yes, i still live in the 1990's), re-syncs it in my blackberry, and triple confirms it to my desk calendar. i even schedule my spontaneity.
4. i take multiple baths everyday.
5. crickets. i hate crickets. i also hate silence which, in effect, is pseudo-crickets.
6. my left pinky toe lies horizontal. i was born with it this way. we call it bitch toe.
7. i am always cold. i wear a fluffy, cozy wrappy all the time to keep warm. even in 100 degree costa rica sunshine i had goosebumps. it's no longer adorable to my hh, but to still to get his attention i dramatically cry out, "baby, i am frijoles!!".
yes, i know this translates to " i am beans." BUT i like the way it almost sounds like "i am freezing", and it makes him smile.
so there you go. my seven things. it only took me 4 months to figure them out, put them to paper, and post.
i'm apparently supposed to tag the kreativ blogger onto 7 other blogs to keep the party going.
argh!! i hate that i have to narrow it down to 7....
duel living, jeune marie, sweet nothings, reverie, trust your style, with love from pittsburgh, and audrey onassis.
feel free to accept the tag if you like or pass it on to your discretion.
thank you again deb. you set the standard, oh goddess of katy, texas.
grip and grin
brushing up on my best betty draper pose.
hunky hubby has a client dinner this evening.
spouses are tagging along; adding the spice to what would otherwise be a beige-bland meal.
{at least in my opinion}
off to get my face rosy and hair shiny....
mouth will remain filthy.
red, white, and happy
happy weekend indeed.
smiling has been infectious of late.
the sun overcame her shyness.
hh didn't notice/mind the baked beans were bacon free.
a 6 year old's front yard, sparkler extravaganza {both parents inches away} was insanely more entertaining than any disneyland spectacle i've ever seen.
our sweet priscilla, whom will be with us for a year come friday, did not bolt or skip the fence as we had feared she would attempt.
{the fourth is such a nasty holiday for pups and kittens alike.}
to bed we all snuggled in early, windows and doors sealed shut.
whirling ceiling fans and kisses canceling out the noise of piccolo pete's and butterfly rockets.
still grinning ear to ear.