Happy 30 degrees Chicago!
This happens every year. And I bitch about it every year. Maybe if I pretend that I'm happy about it online, it will translate to my actual life.
Haven't done this in a while, but I have TWO fantastic quotes of the day. Yesterday my lovely friend Elaine and I went to We Will Rock You at the Palace. During intermission I went to the bathroom. Now if you've ever tried to take a wiz during intermission at one of the big houses downtown you've experienced the bathroom ushers. Their sole mission is to make peeing the most anxiety provoking experience of your life. The woman in the stall next to me would shout "I'm still peeing, please wait... I'm still peeing, please wait" every five seconds or so. Amen girl. As if the quote gods hadn't smiled on me enough, there was more. In the second act of the musical the romantic leads start making out and then the stage blacks out. In the moment before the applause the gentleman behind me explains to his wife, "that means they had sex." Day, made.
So my battle cry of the past few weeks has been GETTIN' FESTIVE. And I think of it in all caps every time I say it. This is one of my favorite times of the year. I love being outside in the autumn. It feels like the world is getting ready for bed. Autumn is a 30 minute before bed shower where no one runs the dishwasher or takes a shit while your basking in the warmth.
And that's worth celebrating. Get festive with me.
Nay, GET FESTIVE with me.
I understand if you're having trouble motivating your one man festivity train. It's no easy task. I'm in college, I have classes and work and homework after that. But fear not fellow students. Allow me to share some of my favorite fall daily festivities with you. I could write for Better Homes and Gardens with this wording. Get ready.
1. Festive Candles. You know what makes a room instantly fancier? A lit candle. I write this from my cluttered little bedroom with a scented candle that is making the room smell like nostalgia itself. Like little house on the prairie. Only I have the internet and they had scarlet fever.
2. Festive Tea. You know what I really love about fall? Pumpkin Spice Lattes. But those puppies are 5 bucks a pop. And I work part time. Solution: Festive tea. Don't feel like waking up for that 8:30am Spanish class? Me neither. Like ever. But it's way better if you walk there clutching to a mug of home steeped "apple spice" tea.
3. Festive Music. My pandora recommendations are Mumford and Sons, Lumineers, Time for Three, Blackbird, Iron and Wine, and anything that has "Rocky Mountains" or "Portland" in the title. Basically as long as the musicians are exceptionally hairy, barefoot, and/or playing their music under a tree, it's a safe bet.
4. Festive Bakery. I shop at Aldi. Aldi is good at getting festive. Every week when I go to do my grocery shopping I am confronted with so much festive bakery on sale. Last week I made pumpkin spice cookies, tonight they were selling maple leaf cookies and pumpkin spice bread mixes. Having lots of yummy bakery in the apartment makes me anxious, so I bring it to work or give it as a spontaneous gift. Really everyone wins here.
5. Festive Food. Now that I'm done with Yonkers, I have time to cook. This is glorious. I haven't yet, but I have plans in the works for gourd based meals. Squash, pumpkin, raisins, apples, brown sugar. Cannot wait.
6. Festive Flannel. If I had my druthers I would wear flannel all the time. I've always been drawn to flannel, and then I found out it was about the gayest article of clothing one can own. Que lots of thrift store trips. And for the next few months, everyone else will be on board with my fashion statement. It would be a crime to let this opportunity pass.
So instead of (or in addition to) crabbing about how f*cking cold it is outside, enjoy the self propelled festivity.
Kaitlyn
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Friday, October 18, 2013
Funny Brother Stories
Ello Chapsticks,
So yesterday marked my little brother Nick's 3 year deathiversary (for details, see my posts from late spring of this year). I'm not particularly good at timing sadness to strike me on a particular date, so I had a relatively painless week. Plus my friends have been checking in with me because they're lovely. But I have been thinking about him a lot the past couple weeks, and in celebration of his life I am going to tell you some laughable stories from our childhood.
And in honor of the season of pumpkin, they are all food themed! So enjoy that!
Our parents have been on a health kick since whole wheat bread was invented, so Nick and I grew up with a lot of stir fried veggies for dinner and granola bars for dessert. Mind you, now I would KILL for a meal that isn't eaten on my way to class or from a microwavable bag, but at the time I just wanted some Mac and Cheese. So when junk food was in the house, you had to act fast or suffer in whole wheat agony until the next holiday. One incident I remember in particular was when my dad brought home a carton of Malted Milk Balls. Nick and I waged a literal game of capture the flag complete with decoy messages, loud music to thwart any attempts at sneaking, and beating each other to ground to get a hold of them.
My dad went on this crazy fiber diet circa 2005, right around the time that protein bars and health shakes were getting popular. One day my mom found these delicious Fiber One bars at Sams Club and bought them in bulk. Now there hadn't been chocolate in the house in weeks and these things had chocolate chips in them. Neither of us paid much attention to the text proudly boasting that this one little chocolate bar contained 40% of your daily recommended fiber. We were so used to our parents buying boring food, we were just jazzed about the chocolate component. In a moment of weakness brought on by weeks of deprivation, Nick at five of them. In one sitting. Hours later he emerged from the bathroom looking pretty haggard. He never did it again.
I don't have a great transition into this little anecdote, but it's too memorable for me to not mention. Nick and I had a mutual love of white bread because all my parents bought was this dry Brownberry Whole Wheat bread. (Super delicious, but again, we were 10). So for every birthday and Christmas we would take our $5 a week allowance and buy each other a loaf of white bread. I considered leaving a loaf on his grave, but then I pictured it all moldy and rain soaked.
Speaking of Birthdays and Christmas, every Easter my family bakes these pound cakes in the shape of a bunny and a lamb. Because we're Polish as Perogies. Anyhow, the bunny was sufficiently cuter and since Nick was a baby and wined about it, he always got to decorate the bunny. When we were little we got to frost them, dye some coconut, and sprinkle it on there so your lamb or bunny had a nice pastel hue to it. I am a square, so my lamb was always baby blue with black jelly bean eyes and a kindhearted, holiday oriented, smile. When Nick was in middle school he made the bunny blood red with fangs and some sort of skin condition.
That same year he drew dicks and pagan symbols in white crayon on all our eater eggs before we dyed them. Mom was none too pleased.
One of my favorite Nick stories is how every time we went out to eat at a restaurant if there was a cute waitress, he would try to order alcohol. Now Nick is three years younger than me and he checked out before 17, so he was never anywhere near legal drinking age. Usually the waitress laughed it off he got a Coke, but this one time we were at Applebees I think and the waitress actually wrote down his order and started to walk off. I don't know how this girl thought he was serious because he ordered the Bond drink every time, "I'll have a martini, shaken. Not stirred." She finally decided that maybe this little asshat is in middle school and, much to his chagrin, didn't bring him the drink.
Here's to you kid. I miss you, and love you. Remember, you posted this picture to facebook. Not me. And let's be frank, you knew there was no way you were getting a classy memorial blog from me. You're welcome.
Well that's all for today. But expect more. Obviously not all food themed, but we did plenty of suburban kid shenanigans that I will definitely be writing about on here at some point. Enjoy the chilly weekend! Get some pumpkin stuff, bust out your scarves, do fall!
Kait
So yesterday marked my little brother Nick's 3 year deathiversary (for details, see my posts from late spring of this year). I'm not particularly good at timing sadness to strike me on a particular date, so I had a relatively painless week. Plus my friends have been checking in with me because they're lovely. But I have been thinking about him a lot the past couple weeks, and in celebration of his life I am going to tell you some laughable stories from our childhood.
And in honor of the season of pumpkin, they are all food themed! So enjoy that!
Our parents have been on a health kick since whole wheat bread was invented, so Nick and I grew up with a lot of stir fried veggies for dinner and granola bars for dessert. Mind you, now I would KILL for a meal that isn't eaten on my way to class or from a microwavable bag, but at the time I just wanted some Mac and Cheese. So when junk food was in the house, you had to act fast or suffer in whole wheat agony until the next holiday. One incident I remember in particular was when my dad brought home a carton of Malted Milk Balls. Nick and I waged a literal game of capture the flag complete with decoy messages, loud music to thwart any attempts at sneaking, and beating each other to ground to get a hold of them.
My dad went on this crazy fiber diet circa 2005, right around the time that protein bars and health shakes were getting popular. One day my mom found these delicious Fiber One bars at Sams Club and bought them in bulk. Now there hadn't been chocolate in the house in weeks and these things had chocolate chips in them. Neither of us paid much attention to the text proudly boasting that this one little chocolate bar contained 40% of your daily recommended fiber. We were so used to our parents buying boring food, we were just jazzed about the chocolate component. In a moment of weakness brought on by weeks of deprivation, Nick at five of them. In one sitting. Hours later he emerged from the bathroom looking pretty haggard. He never did it again.
I don't have a great transition into this little anecdote, but it's too memorable for me to not mention. Nick and I had a mutual love of white bread because all my parents bought was this dry Brownberry Whole Wheat bread. (Super delicious, but again, we were 10). So for every birthday and Christmas we would take our $5 a week allowance and buy each other a loaf of white bread. I considered leaving a loaf on his grave, but then I pictured it all moldy and rain soaked.
Speaking of Birthdays and Christmas, every Easter my family bakes these pound cakes in the shape of a bunny and a lamb. Because we're Polish as Perogies. Anyhow, the bunny was sufficiently cuter and since Nick was a baby and wined about it, he always got to decorate the bunny. When we were little we got to frost them, dye some coconut, and sprinkle it on there so your lamb or bunny had a nice pastel hue to it. I am a square, so my lamb was always baby blue with black jelly bean eyes and a kindhearted, holiday oriented, smile. When Nick was in middle school he made the bunny blood red with fangs and some sort of skin condition.
That same year he drew dicks and pagan symbols in white crayon on all our eater eggs before we dyed them. Mom was none too pleased.
One of my favorite Nick stories is how every time we went out to eat at a restaurant if there was a cute waitress, he would try to order alcohol. Now Nick is three years younger than me and he checked out before 17, so he was never anywhere near legal drinking age. Usually the waitress laughed it off he got a Coke, but this one time we were at Applebees I think and the waitress actually wrote down his order and started to walk off. I don't know how this girl thought he was serious because he ordered the Bond drink every time, "I'll have a martini, shaken. Not stirred." She finally decided that maybe this little asshat is in middle school and, much to his chagrin, didn't bring him the drink.
Here's to you kid. I miss you, and love you. Remember, you posted this picture to facebook. Not me. And let's be frank, you knew there was no way you were getting a classy memorial blog from me. You're welcome.
Well that's all for today. But expect more. Obviously not all food themed, but we did plenty of suburban kid shenanigans that I will definitely be writing about on here at some point. Enjoy the chilly weekend! Get some pumpkin stuff, bust out your scarves, do fall!
Kait
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