tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89531732024-03-07T18:43:30.956-08:00The Elizabethan EraA royal rascal.Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.comBlogger444125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-23370769000255841232010-01-12T20:14:00.001-08:002010-01-12T20:18:59.129-08:00Goodbye/HelloWell now I've done it. I'm officially one of those people who have abandoned one blog for another. <br /><br />Thank you for following me for as long as you have. In the spirit of new years, decades, and yes, Elizabethan eras, I have done what I said I wanted to do in 2010 by creating a more focused blog. <br /><br />Meet <a href="http://harpsichordian.blogspot.com/">Harpischordian</a>. Follow me and my craft/music/writing shenanigans there.Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-66351742652424634362010-01-01T19:13:00.001-08:002010-01-01T19:14:23.477-08:00Cheers to 2009A few (but certainly not all) of my favorite photos from the year.<br /><br /><table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" border="0" bgcolor="#ffffff"><tr><td><a href="http://smilebox.com/play/4d5451774e6a49354e7a513d0d0a&blogview=true&campaign=blog_playback_link" target="_blank"><img width="386" height="303" alt="Click to play this Smilebox slideshow: Favorite Photos of 2009" src="http://smilebox.com/snap/4d5451774e6a49354e7a513d0d0a.jpg" style="border: medium none ;"/></a></td></tr><tr><td><a href="http://www.smilebox.com/?partner=hallmark&campaign=blog_snapshot" target="_blank"><img width="386" height="46" alt="Create your own slideshow - Powered by Smilebox" src="http://www.smilebox.com/globalImages/blogInstructions/blogLogoSmileboxSmall.gif" style="border: medium none ;"/></a></td></tr><tr><td align="center"><a href="http://www.smilebox.com/slideshows/?partner=hallmark" target="_blank">Make a Smilebox slideshow</a></td></tr></table>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-44183405187513339352009-12-30T10:03:00.000-08:002009-12-30T10:29:16.330-08:00For the good times.<div style="text-align: center;">Beef Stew.<br /></div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKJSyuwWV34uinytj7AAB-eqlT-uULZjM9Sl-Ctvw4OaivbqERlGmhSpCUytdpW1r89GCs-N-C5eqp3YXhhxtdvBBdQn-tlxapoZWoeHOL39Ebb-Xexxf4Wwl1kscUR6Hbc1W_yA/s1600-h/IMG_4320.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKJSyuwWV34uinytj7AAB-eqlT-uULZjM9Sl-Ctvw4OaivbqERlGmhSpCUytdpW1r89GCs-N-C5eqp3YXhhxtdvBBdQn-tlxapoZWoeHOL39Ebb-Xexxf4Wwl1kscUR6Hbc1W_yA/s400/IMG_4320.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Because the forecast looks like this.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivr3VAWwkjUhI8xSqgGVvGAecywly9T5KR3P5GR_Fp-_G7PGxPONgfXwnU7r1LVDM3SwX8LasU5JPm3mvcfjutJA0A4EMAUpnk0MoY0nN8D0LF_0YieE4ZYYkbKQ9pOLbCMaXFNQ/s1600-h/IMG_4262.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 408px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivr3VAWwkjUhI8xSqgGVvGAecywly9T5KR3P5GR_Fp-_G7PGxPONgfXwnU7r1LVDM3SwX8LasU5JPm3mvcfjutJA0A4EMAUpnk0MoY0nN8D0LF_0YieE4ZYYkbKQ9pOLbCMaXFNQ/s400/IMG_4262.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421092792450852994" border="0" /></a>And your boyfriend could probably use something like this.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPNc2D3GWpCjExkrcpV_yTAINepU6M5q0e6h4ZgfCJ-7zFNhNG30aX8qYSOSWCMPW5lIBDQLl83oXwA8_gmE4Va2g92ZcdybvA-MYaJTfM8Es4hIMvsALEQzgIANxuvj8HFH1rVw/s1600-h/head+cold.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPNc2D3GWpCjExkrcpV_yTAINepU6M5q0e6h4ZgfCJ-7zFNhNG30aX8qYSOSWCMPW5lIBDQLl83oXwA8_gmE4Va2g92ZcdybvA-MYaJTfM8Es4hIMvsALEQzgIANxuvj8HFH1rVw/s400/head+cold.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421093852040456162" border="0" /></a>And Neflix mailed you this.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrV1ZIArlOgcsbpzAskKptnghf8onxkZXmIgI9IKtj3_erRU1_tbVXbfzLwvNWbfCXoWd2WXZ9rmmoB5WQBolsBeTPtvoZEaTl9un7N-B6QLBTYFdKCzbOLdEtXo1sNSYVBymjpA/s1600-h/grey+gardens.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrV1ZIArlOgcsbpzAskKptnghf8onxkZXmIgI9IKtj3_erRU1_tbVXbfzLwvNWbfCXoWd2WXZ9rmmoB5WQBolsBeTPtvoZEaTl9un7N-B6QLBTYFdKCzbOLdEtXo1sNSYVBymjpA/s400/grey+gardens.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421096053591300418" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">For the old-fashioned aroma. <br /><br />For the holiday in-between times. <br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">For Just One of Those Nights.<br /><br />Beef Stew.<br /></div></div></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-81321845778570957322009-12-18T10:50:00.000-08:002009-12-18T10:59:41.510-08:00So just look at them and sigh.When my Dad sent my picture in to Cheerios with a couple proofs of purchase and a few bucks in exchange for a rubber stamp of my 6-year-old face, of course I had no idea that 21 years later, I'd still be using it. I'm lucky I kept it. Much as I would love to continue using this thing in place of my signature, these days I use it to create tags for my homemade gifts. It's been getting a delightful amount of use.<br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRkqpppYeVyDFnURWJpX2ZM8fK9MY8Eo0HP7ax7MOiVVCbkKHcLuLDUEFcfQeVvw84QFLEGHkHeovr4CA2R1kJ4yPqGNOSIpvJuLfP1sUY_G4k7E-zXTD9KuDJo56QGdr5Kgn5fg/s1600-h/IMG_4245.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRkqpppYeVyDFnURWJpX2ZM8fK9MY8Eo0HP7ax7MOiVVCbkKHcLuLDUEFcfQeVvw84QFLEGHkHeovr4CA2R1kJ4yPqGNOSIpvJuLfP1sUY_G4k7E-zXTD9KuDJo56QGdr5Kgn5fg/s400/IMG_4245.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div>There are few things more satisfying than to clutter up a large table with yarn, embroidery thread, Elmer's, felt in both large squares and tiny bits, patterns, sequins, scissors, cardstock, holepunch, inkpads, hot glue, stuffing, needles and pens, along with all the other debris from the box that you had to deal with to get to all the stuff you needed in this craft explosion, and THEN to put everything back where it belongs, and admire your new little creations on the now cleared table.<br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx0KYDIMLBCUPWl9f8PrHqCALHaRO_J23xm2U0ANBbAbj-fEPcIoAEQEAq4Pp9_Svj9qOr0G7MxpE-BmHoh_8vl-ydH1YYVGMOFuUo43d5XrH9enmdNZDVACzjQl0QSnkDPQVcqw/s1600-h/IMG_4254.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx0KYDIMLBCUPWl9f8PrHqCALHaRO_J23xm2U0ANBbAbj-fEPcIoAEQEAq4Pp9_Svj9qOr0G7MxpE-BmHoh_8vl-ydH1YYVGMOFuUo43d5XrH9enmdNZDVACzjQl0QSnkDPQVcqw/s400/IMG_4254.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div>I considered naming these owl ornaments Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, but since I won't be gifting them together, I thought they needed better stand-alone names. Instead, we have Zephyr (after the wind, not the RHCP song), Zuma (after a Neil Young/Crazy Horse album which I have never heard), Zora (after one of my favorite authors, Zora Neale Hurston), and Zelda (after the wife of F. Scott Fitzgerald who was cah-razy! as well as my old car of the same name, which was also green). If I were able to give them all to my parents, I might just call them the Lennon Sisters, for giggles and old-times' sake.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27qKdJMvyZxeVnYpQt15JrUEkv1q5JV-3OucHyHDyNQr114HCYCJ5jDEJ6MHiBQWvZIY-mrOeiqVgvdgB6UyUuP2a40e2FjcDfjMYQVvEG88qsdi67IFH-6CfzJSmtwmGjlCdZg/s1600-h/LennonSistersTodayAlbum.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 384px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27qKdJMvyZxeVnYpQt15JrUEkv1q5JV-3OucHyHDyNQr114HCYCJ5jDEJ6MHiBQWvZIY-mrOeiqVgvdgB6UyUuP2a40e2FjcDfjMYQVvEG88qsdi67IFH-6CfzJSmtwmGjlCdZg/s400/LennonSistersTodayAlbum.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416651359268772658" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><br /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-61049124500337913302009-12-14T09:50:00.000-08:002009-12-14T12:03:52.010-08:00Catching back up<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhShA-Kiz_JcnwiuAvtPKzy80IqRsIxR1IeaCR4A0_s4KTrUnxjtugYNMXciE8s2sDR_Vipc9OhfgyufoDoYorLyjULgFRLt8NSgp6b8UHN9RndRJCVSj-Lex8UVY2mSz-seTYIRw/s1600-h/2877288000_f0d068274f.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhShA-Kiz_JcnwiuAvtPKzy80IqRsIxR1IeaCR4A0_s4KTrUnxjtugYNMXciE8s2sDR_Vipc9OhfgyufoDoYorLyjULgFRLt8NSgp6b8UHN9RndRJCVSj-Lex8UVY2mSz-seTYIRw/s400/2877288000_f0d068274f.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">This is how I feel when I've got a lot of stuff to do. I want to party and have fun, but sometimes I just need a little rest.<br /><br />One of my resolutions for 2010 is to be a better blogger. So many blogs, mine included, are show and tell forums. Some of my favorite blogs are just that. But now that I've had this thing for a few years, I'd like to try some new things and answer the question of why I keep this blog, anyway. Perhaps what I'm wanting to do is focus on maybe just a couple aspects of life and get better at them through blogging.<br /><br />I guess that's the theme for the coming year. "2010: Getting better at doing stuff."<br /><br />And showing you how to do it, too? Or what I learned? Tips and tricks? Maybe selling some of the stuff I've made? Ooh, and maybe some music recommendations of what to listen to while you're picking up new hobbies?<br /><br />I'll continue to post while I work on figuring out a more focused way to blog. In the meantime, I've asked this accordion boy to please smile and learn to play the "Beer Barrel Polka" in time for my Oktoberfest im Februar party.</div></div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-22144992490415444062009-11-29T11:39:00.000-08:002009-11-29T11:39:16.036-08:00Pasta Sunday; link happy<div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2B2pDNt0W_GobZ4mqc9b94HB0lohZy-S5KN9DeDcAzgIrMAk5wf9zL2FmimzZwX6wSN_nM8QPyXoI1JGNG0-09UHKs1od467hv1w2LTNDuINio4ZcoPBqFRWA2zsxjfif2AuCgg/s1600/November+027.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2B2pDNt0W_GobZ4mqc9b94HB0lohZy-S5KN9DeDcAzgIrMAk5wf9zL2FmimzZwX6wSN_nM8QPyXoI1JGNG0-09UHKs1od467hv1w2LTNDuINio4ZcoPBqFRWA2zsxjfif2AuCgg/s400/November+027.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><a href="http://www.cassanositaliangrocery.com/">Cassano's</a> is an Italian grocery store in Spokane. It's been getting a lot of business from us for the past few weekends. They have a freezer case with freshly frozen pasta, a deli with big hunks of cheese, and a little refrigerator that supplies Joel's constant hankering for <a href="http://www.amazon.com/San-Pellegrino-Chinotto-pack-bottles/dp/B0001FR0BQ">Chinotto</a>. It's been a real treat to counteract the cold, rainy Sundays of late with these yummy things. So we fix these fancy dinners (this was smoked cheese and sundried tomato tortellini, paired with turkey meatballs that I adapted from the <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2009/10/baked-chicken-meatballs/">chicken meatball recipe </a>on Smitten Kitchen) and then bring it all to the coffee table and watch <a href="http://www.cbs.com/primetime/amazing_race/">The Amazing Race 15</a>. Makes for a very decadent, exciting hour.<div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-4722498379365467282009-11-23T21:05:00.000-08:002009-11-23T21:09:02.943-08:00Pumpkin pie<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">I told you I had a couple of rotting pumpkins on my porch. Joel's (right) began as facial hair: eyebrows, mustache, soul patch. Now it just looks like an old man with kind eyes who forgot to put in his dentures, with a soul patch. Mine (left) started out as an evil laughing Jack o'Lantern. Now it's an even evil-er looking one, probably with emphysema to accompany its sinister laugh.<br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBCvJTWNS5mDr4b8PmLW83HscMdt0YT_PkrWYu1RsdgNVVlNJB2DSUV2QGnX3IHf-59dCnY5Vom3yGc-kIIOUkejzzUrynKdwh0KOZBPBrig8DXd2PvvYI4S31na74Vg1MwkDzbg/s1600/November+042.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBCvJTWNS5mDr4b8PmLW83HscMdt0YT_PkrWYu1RsdgNVVlNJB2DSUV2QGnX3IHf-59dCnY5Vom3yGc-kIIOUkejzzUrynKdwh0KOZBPBrig8DXd2PvvYI4S31na74Vg1MwkDzbg/s400/November+042.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><br />Why have these not moved from their post in the last three weeks? Because I don't want to pick them up! Gross. I fully expected the punk kids next door to have smashed them by now; it was their job! After all, they did earn it by carving "Smoke Weed" into the freshly poured concrete right in front of the house (oh, but little did they know that by using our clever letter adding skills, we would thwart the call to drug use by altering the message with a simple "t," therefore calling all those who walk past this house to burn all of their dapper suits and smart skirts. [Smoke Tweed! in case you hadn't figured it out yet]). This dirty job is theirs. But every day it grows less enticing, I suppose. And these pumpkins just sit there, dutifully waiting for the next holiday to arrive, poor things, saying hello to the mailman as he delivers the Christmas cards.<div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-11721234677630496812009-11-14T21:43:00.000-08:002009-11-16T23:00:16.929-08:00Tea-ny tiny<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">In our world of cell phones and text messaging, on Saturday I was touched to watch my niece Rebecca pick up the home phone, squint up at a list of phone numbers on the wall to find the number of her neighbor friends, then dial and invite them to our tea party at 12:30.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Oh, it was so fun. Everyone put on their dresses, brushed their hair, and arrived promptly for tea, which turned into a bit of a luncheon. My niece (on the right) nailed the part of dainty tea drinker. Doesn't she look like a <a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2481/3787056371_eed339e93f.jpg">1930s deb</a>?<br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw0BxpCyb6_wPvx1l5r7sGmq2M46Z2uPaR3rMFGPtB4Y5NExe5dWCiIwZ-ITWA8QFzUi1aDKFOTNZN8awVkO1B-iKcHd1TVghGZGNo2u_2UEG2ipTyaw-2I09ofxMaP6cQ6ekZHw/s1600-h/November+036.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw0BxpCyb6_wPvx1l5r7sGmq2M46Z2uPaR3rMFGPtB4Y5NExe5dWCiIwZ-ITWA8QFzUi1aDKFOTNZN8awVkO1B-iKcHd1TVghGZGNo2u_2UEG2ipTyaw-2I09ofxMaP6cQ6ekZHw/s400/November+036.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Okay, so I kind of forgot how tiny this tea set was. But who cares when it means you can have 4 refills of our <a href="http://www.germandelights.com/product_images/05001%20kinderpunsch.jpg">special tea</a>? We had tea sandwiches, fruit salad, brownies AND cupcakes, which we made with homemade buttercream frosting earlier that morning together, in four different colors, per Rachel's request.<br /><br />I taught them how to hold out their pinkies, and even without my suggesting they use their finest manners, they politely asked each other to pass various items around the table. I humored them by offering, "More tea, mademoiselle?"<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEmCGjsZxYyfAieG38uRQKxA4jDrcDjmkNQG-28LImt-N9FrzuxTwWNTxn1SPuiwQEFbjgNbjN-ammAvkuhq3BYFLT_Y6E2ROFrMEZpiFEfgpl7KBRvHroahZr4fkLd6BogddvCA/s1600-h/November+037.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEmCGjsZxYyfAieG38uRQKxA4jDrcDjmkNQG-28LImt-N9FrzuxTwWNTxn1SPuiwQEFbjgNbjN-ammAvkuhq3BYFLT_Y6E2ROFrMEZpiFEfgpl7KBRvHroahZr4fkLd6BogddvCA/s400/November+037.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />So sweet.</div>And you remember how I mentioned the spilling stuff on the tablecloth thing in my last post? While I wasn't looking, these sweet children spilled sugar all over the tablecloth. They didn't even try to hide it. "We had a little accident," one of them said as I stood in the kitchen, preparing the fruit salad. William was suddenly at my side, asking for a napkin to clean it up. So civilized, these children!<br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTOfSiG_D16rxX5H_N9IVN5gclt55b9F5GajjhY1nbhjhhf98Hrtanfromv4jHCbieN9ZyibODiRkm3XnkcGnXpl47pYtkHQZ66ILzCUR6gzZzeCTLZDVrkPvKYOJS7A_bj3tcAA/s1600-h/November+034.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTOfSiG_D16rxX5H_N9IVN5gclt55b9F5GajjhY1nbhjhhf98Hrtanfromv4jHCbieN9ZyibODiRkm3XnkcGnXpl47pYtkHQZ66ILzCUR6gzZzeCTLZDVrkPvKYOJS7A_bj3tcAA/s400/November+034.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">And what a good sport, that William. But when your aunt is letting you drink pure sugar to wash down the brownies, cupcakes and peanut butter and jelly, you'd probably put up with a bunch of girls, too.<br /></div></div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf5z7AdVhrjifqN1bcVlgK9N92ge2MiA2KGDsOEUWHFthircSTWQLRpIim3Ujb8an6FjQbYVI4IBV7OID6zkcZgW1zJIjI7gYd3AbhQF6Xa0Nhl3eF5uKt6vHfKdL1AEUCnmiZug/s1600-h/November+039.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf5z7AdVhrjifqN1bcVlgK9N92ge2MiA2KGDsOEUWHFthircSTWQLRpIim3Ujb8an6FjQbYVI4IBV7OID6zkcZgW1zJIjI7gYd3AbhQF6Xa0Nhl3eF5uKt6vHfKdL1AEUCnmiZug/s400/November+039.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-6236950051442618422009-11-11T13:17:00.000-08:002009-11-11T13:38:13.147-08:00Kindred spiritsStarting around age 12, I developed an obsession with tea parties. I thus formed The Tea Party Guild, which also speaks to another healthy obsession I had with my Roget's Thesaurus. I came up with the name after looking up synonyms for "group." I considered "society," "gathering," and then ultimately decided on "guild" for the simple reason that it made me think of the Lollipop Guild in the Wizard of Oz. Which is a ridiculous leap, especially when you consider that I was truly aiming to be like Anne of Green Gables. I wanted nothing more than to gather my kindred spirits, use big words I didn't quite understand yet, and have an occasional afternoon of all things fanciful. If we happened to spill a little tea on the nice table cloth, launching us into an elaborate scheme to clean it before an adult noticed that evolved into a complicated web of not-so-clever cover-ups that ultimately led us to being caught red-handed, so be it. It would be such an Anne situation. And believe me, at that age, whatever I could do to be more like Anne Shirley, I did it (though I never found myself in any particular sticky situation).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh19ihyphenhyphendN1HwW9HHco_ikUmo912S7h5Xap4Diej_1SNEQzjSw3n_zSxzyvgU6qpiK2v2BMrXaeXS-Kj1qZcuixCRDkiK192m8-mUl35KlZz7Cc-_Rk0Ujv6HaM2BnzLNT5pp2-TCg/s1600-h/green+gables.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh19ihyphenhyphendN1HwW9HHco_ikUmo912S7h5Xap4Diej_1SNEQzjSw3n_zSxzyvgU6qpiK2v2BMrXaeXS-Kj1qZcuixCRDkiK192m8-mUl35KlZz7Cc-_Rk0Ujv6HaM2BnzLNT5pp2-TCg/s400/green+gables.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402960202252692482" border="0" /></a>"It's so easy to be wicked without knowing it, isn't it?" Oh Anne, you're adorable.<br /><br />Fortunately, I had 4 very close girlfriends at the time who bought into my love of Green Gables and tea parties, and boy, oh boy, did we have fun. We dutifully rotated hostess responsibilities from house to house, and for each party we wore dresses andhats. I even scored a pair of short gloves from the old Emporium in Boise. As part of the guild membership, we banded together each Friday in wearing dresses and hats. Looking back, I'm not sure whether I was more blessed to have friends who did this with me, or classmates who did not ridicule us to our faces.<br /><br />For our tea parties, we generally stuck to the simple Bigelow and Celestial Seasonings variety packs, but we also made goodies, like those fancy crustless tea sandwiches with cucumber and cream cheese, not to mention sweets like lemon bars, merigues, you name it. My parents had the perfect antique-y dining room, too, with plenty of mismatched tea cups featuring dainty gold embellishment. My mom helped by ironing one of her nicest table cloths, and even boiled the water for us once we had sat down adn began chatting (though don't think the trappings of the occasion were any indication of civilized grown-up talk; close your eyes and you could just as easy picture girls standing around their lockers, gossiping about crushes and who's going through puberty fastest).<br /><br />ALL THIS IS TO SAY, I gave my 10-year-old niece a tea set that she could paint herself as a birthday present, and it is now all decorated and ready to use. She has requested a tea party on Saturday. We're spending the better party of the morning and afternoon together and my mind is already swooning with ideas of all the things we can bake and assemble and talk about. I am so excited, feeling like I was born to be an aunt with nieces to have tea parties with.<br /><br />I. Can't. Wait.Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-39090642924072425422009-11-05T15:04:00.000-08:002009-11-05T15:05:27.624-08:00What shall I give you?<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Here are your options:<br /><br />1. Two rotting pumpkins on the porch steps<br /><br />2. A one-pound bag of dirty Kleenex<br /><br />3. Expertly stacked (empty) mini boxes of Junior mints<br /><br />4. Vegetable soup I've eaten so much of I can hardly stand the sight of it (and there's so much left...gah)<br /><br />5. A photo taken before the sickness took over, displaying the only Halloween costume I've put any effort toward in the last 10 years.<br /><br /><br />Option 5, you say? Fine by me!<br /></div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVjuFRv7jzvq3RAarIg5qfDcm1X2WO0YOp7o3vyfS_pbdwKOYSExsB8tt98-UJC5myKGaw4gVh6sm-CJDsQSaenutQMuCju2DN8gT3z-UntbYAj35gzREXlHNwZQX1TnEgoWKWQ/s1600-h/October+partays+036.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVjuFRv7jzvq3RAarIg5qfDcm1X2WO0YOp7o3vyfS_pbdwKOYSExsB8tt98-UJC5myKGaw4gVh6sm-CJDsQSaenutQMuCju2DN8gT3z-UntbYAj35gzREXlHNwZQX1TnEgoWKWQ/s400/October+partays+036.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-45207528129845889682009-10-22T19:20:00.000-07:002009-10-22T19:21:26.018-07:00Losing daylight and bad metaphor alert<div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><div style="text-align: left;">We all know it is bound to happen. As of two nights ago, the horizon at 5:45 was nearing the end of its tube of toothpaste, so I came home and ran down the street to capture the last bit of light squeezed out over the top of the bluff. ( A total stretch. I warned you.)<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm0Y9x5JtUAOBaSceQQONT0yUmkjpKSz8hHxxqKIOO0Q2dzAUwyQqJMRehRccKB3Ob2R06VaNaED8lPFYJAwPjaLWngXbJxhq9F-jNBvAaG9y0_aMiBeX2yJT_UB_z6D1CWRDZ7Q/s1600-h/October+partays+009.jpg"><br /><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm0Y9x5JtUAOBaSceQQONT0yUmkjpKSz8hHxxqKIOO0Q2dzAUwyQqJMRehRccKB3Ob2R06VaNaED8lPFYJAwPjaLWngXbJxhq9F-jNBvAaG9y0_aMiBeX2yJT_UB_z6D1CWRDZ7Q/s400/October+partays+009.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Living in Spokane gets rough starting now. You wake up in the dark, you come home in the dark. You hope the roads are dry, and pray your car makes it up the hill when they aren't. It's cold till about April 27. Everyone whines. You pause on QVC when you're channel-surfing because shopping at home is the more realistic option (or because watching their featured "gem fest" sounds like it could be an all-out laughfest).<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Living in Spokane also gets nice starting now. There's long underwear, for one (and tights! don't forget those), and that magical feeling-some call it relief-when your body thaws (and let's not forget nice, hot baths), and then there are all those girls like me who equate cold weather with hair dye and going dark. That's fun to think about, right? And finally, a chance to hole up in the house and just craft and bake and call all your old friends. There's that feeling of optimism that this cold WILL end, and while you wait, why not skip a day of work and go skiing? <br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. For tonight, I've got a date with a swimming pool. Indoors, of course.<br /></div></div><div style="clear:both; text-align:CENTER"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-84015786741891329302009-10-20T19:44:00.000-07:002009-10-20T19:53:09.811-07:00When we were 8<div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><div style="text-align: left;">While searching for my grown-up journal tonight, I came across my "My Secret Diary" book, which I kept as an 8-year-old. It was a paperback, 50-page or so, junior diary for young girls who need direction on how to write about secrets. I ordered it with my mom's permission from the Scholastic Book Order form which we always got at school every few weeks. <br /></div><br />"Is some secret someone special to you?" it asks on the back cover. "Is something on your mind that's private and personal? Write all about it in My Secret Diary."<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">One of the nice features was that it taught you how to write your secrets in code, and there's one page that lists directions for starting a sponge garden in your bedroom, and another to list your new years' resolutions. (The thought of an 8 year old thinking about such resolutions is kind of sweet, isn't it? Nothing too heavy, like "Lower my cholestorol," or "Pay off my VISA." Mine were simply to be nice to everybody, to not litter, and to cheer people who are feeling unhappy.) <br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But every time I look through this, I can't help but wonder if other 8 year old girls who got this book from Scholastic wrote anything remotely close to this? I mean, really:<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhezWTUSAd9TcXnpG9nzToib0lWGlqLSSYUJs_azzU3ZTBUJpH0kTjxjNSNuK4ijKrOe4MCkGWrxIqkDWwF78v3Su3uyYu65E7NB4zoaud2bbONIlpjxGgakayZvEK6FwN1tnVtbQ/s1600-h/October+partays+026.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhezWTUSAd9TcXnpG9nzToib0lWGlqLSSYUJs_azzU3ZTBUJpH0kTjxjNSNuK4ijKrOe4MCkGWrxIqkDWwF78v3Su3uyYu65E7NB4zoaud2bbONIlpjxGgakayZvEK6FwN1tnVtbQ/s400/October+partays+026.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>Let me explain the "and not dead" part. It was one of the biggest tragedies of my life at the time when I learned that Fred Astaire was not actually alive. I don't know if you could have called it a crush, but I really had a thing for this man, and dreamed of one day being Ginger Rogers, dancing gracefully in super-high heels and a billowy dress on a shiny floor. I also had no idea that I was even unique to know, at my age, who these people were. I breezed right past colorful Saturday morning cartoons and graduated to 1930s black-and-white musicals (except for maybe Punky Brewster and Alvin & the Chipmunks. And the Smurfs. I wasn't completely lost in my generation). And the only Astaire/Rogers movie I absolutely did NOT like was the<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Story_of_Vernon_and_Irene_Castle"> Story of Vernon and Irene Castle</a>. Why? Because ol' Fred died at the end. My young heart not bear it.<br /><br />Then, of course, was the real heart of the matter in this book: my crush on Lyles. This was intended to be the only place I could express this affection, which would last through the bulk of my elementary school career, ultimately, save the few weeks here and there when my eyes were averted to Gabe or Karl.<br /><br /><br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOvwbZOAP4MzOdVNwEWV0q6TX0itjS1FNFEeO_aOYvwh8nuE76GqTOQ3RqsYmSYSKcEqR_fGnLk-zVhztq21bwwCryr88saBX5lp_8Q-1QmpfUT8f3pmVNw6SnJ6xlT5QMrjCzSQ/s1600-h/October+partays+027.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOvwbZOAP4MzOdVNwEWV0q6TX0itjS1FNFEeO_aOYvwh8nuE76GqTOQ3RqsYmSYSKcEqR_fGnLk-zVhztq21bwwCryr88saBX5lp_8Q-1QmpfUT8f3pmVNw6SnJ6xlT5QMrjCzSQ/s400/October+partays+027.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><br />Finally, here's all the proof you need that, when asked, "What's on your mind?" I would tell you "Slumber Party for 4." <div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCAveTAy4jplh4GqeTg64C9btIUN3ZrlPXPHpxMCQhkd45kCgTRsCdQAdOfJAU3mMhOCtJJV03V3YOnS8Qfv6-qYFSL-r1afP_6vL6mp7vFRErafPTFs7JS_Zwwzk-7TwK4H8cFw/s1600-h/October+partays+028.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCAveTAy4jplh4GqeTg64C9btIUN3ZrlPXPHpxMCQhkd45kCgTRsCdQAdOfJAU3mMhOCtJJV03V3YOnS8Qfv6-qYFSL-r1afP_6vL6mp7vFRErafPTFs7JS_Zwwzk-7TwK4H8cFw/s400/October+partays+028.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>I can't decide what my favorite part of this illustration is. The friend who's kind of walking in from the right side, not worth drawing in completely and looking a bit like a frumpy spinster? The fact that we're smartly dispersed around 2 sleeping bags? Or that there are only 2 sleeping bags? Or the key element that to this day is a very important part of a happy evening - the bowl of popcorn?<div style="clear:both; text-align:CENTER"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-11313212848217534192009-10-19T10:20:00.000-07:002009-10-19T13:27:20.038-07:00Casserole: the verb<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">What dish deserves its own event?<br /></div> </div><br />Answer: The casserole, of course. And an event it got.<br /><br />To be perfectly honest, I was a little worried that planning a gathering of this feastable magnitude would only lead to a let-down afterward for not living up to the high expectations we'd set in our minds. I remember that feeling when I was younger when my party planning entailed glorious mental images of endless laughter, puffy paint, ghost stories, snacks, sodas, movies, fun music and staying up till sun-up - the reality being that we all fell asleep by, like, 10 p.m., while watching a movie.<br /><br />We had been planning this party for literally 2 months, right after we made the discovery that we all shared this guilty pleasure for canned soup with pick-your-vegetable, cheese and crunchy topping. I tried my best to keep myself from imagining a table overflowing with hot pads, serving spoons a dishes of varying sizes containing steaming, creamy delights, with people standing around it in wonder and amazement. Or drink stations around the kitchen to offer the social lubrication needed to loosen our dance joints and aid us in enjoying a game or two, causing us to hoot and holler.<br /><br />I blocked those ideas from my mind and just decided to just let the thing happen, <span style="font-style: italic;">casserole style</span><em></em>.<br /><br />Do you see how appropriate that was? The casserole is basically the easiest dish ever, designed to quickly fill the tummies of you and the rest of your army. You can try to make it more difficult, but we all know that in the end, you're just going stir something together and plop it in a dish and bake it. It's not a dish to worry about - it comes out every time.<br /><br />So all we had to do, in theory, was to provide the place and invite the known casserole lovers to bring their casseroles (and a little booze), and our party would be set.<br /><br />I'll take this opportunity to mention that a casserole never suffers from throwing in a few last-minute ingredients. Corn and cheese are great examples. Also great for describing what else got thrown in during the final hours of party-prepping, such as the embroidered souvenir "Casserole King" t-shirt for our friend Jeffy (oops, forgot to take that picture) and a couple games (which weren't as cheesy as they were brilliant).<br /><br />When the guests began parading in with their hot dishes, the magic happened. It all turned out. The party totally casseroled. What else do I need to say here? I think I've gone on far too long about it. My lack of photos only speaks to the amount of fun I had - here's practically the only photo I managed to pause to take.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7wgV3cd8CRQtrjbJ3BoP7UDlkwoj0LlrA06BfJ39jGx9hLKs-yRLdZcu5sgTYGiWI2DXFr4HyB1q-vsBKhPxXl_a_MLn0_9PDudozb1O3ho7Atj9kQquMypV9ZdAL5rg6WYlCYw/s1600-h/IMG_4132.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7wgV3cd8CRQtrjbJ3BoP7UDlkwoj0LlrA06BfJ39jGx9hLKs-yRLdZcu5sgTYGiWI2DXFr4HyB1q-vsBKhPxXl_a_MLn0_9PDudozb1O3ho7Atj9kQquMypV9ZdAL5rg6WYlCYw/s400/IMG_4132.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><br /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-5147342426917501382009-10-08T16:32:00.000-07:002009-10-08T16:33:12.228-07:00In case you wondered...<div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijb3MHH44onzymiun5y5UK3IR7gNefHgJ3edH3K76X8l2RyHi5znpDE-Vy0GZN3FwiuyYbufeU9JoHYnmaq3sCnmjcGbSGArNcYziZsTiPJdHOyIlumo-I92R7RKTb10QZMfa-6Q/s1600-h/October+partays+003.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijb3MHH44onzymiun5y5UK3IR7gNefHgJ3edH3K76X8l2RyHi5znpDE-Vy0GZN3FwiuyYbufeU9JoHYnmaq3sCnmjcGbSGArNcYziZsTiPJdHOyIlumo-I92R7RKTb10QZMfa-6Q/s400/October+partays+003.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>This was the finished deal. Pret-ty rich, difficult to slice, but fun. <div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPY56HXvrz7NNwXbLjX6gkZ0DbTDJuCfhxuFsP6GEP-AbsFzMoPJTFt-_6SksJkYDY7up6s1opUErXV0Y0Mh_Hvp7VAokbEVAMeL6YNZpqdBb_W8nC3OruiZHf6MtBRa6bEu8VEg/s1600-h/October+partays+005.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPY56HXvrz7NNwXbLjX6gkZ0DbTDJuCfhxuFsP6GEP-AbsFzMoPJTFt-_6SksJkYDY7up6s1opUErXV0Y0Mh_Hvp7VAokbEVAMeL6YNZpqdBb_W8nC3OruiZHf6MtBRa6bEu8VEg/s400/October+partays+005.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="clear:both; text-align:CENTER"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-11999387284323761872009-10-01T19:20:00.000-07:002009-10-01T19:25:49.168-07:0027 Fabulous Chocolate Wafers<div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><div style="text-align: left;">Here are the first 9, coated on one side with melted bittersweet chocolate and stuck to the pan.<br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9Y2s1CeDibslafyNsDLboDMJWWTKoxurGwZssGMOS2xKTT15t8Je7MRyOE4XrulZ42t7G_Orz0J3OspkuGaFt_2KPuu7tYH_3ZYVsXiogk8ydHbb85iuIgdmenPAUlVwxEJMaQ/s1600-h/food+and+things+013.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9Y2s1CeDibslafyNsDLboDMJWWTKoxurGwZssGMOS2xKTT15t8Je7MRyOE4XrulZ42t7G_Orz0J3OspkuGaFt_2KPuu7tYH_3ZYVsXiogk8ydHbb85iuIgdmenPAUlVwxEJMaQ/s400/food+and+things+013.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>And here are strawberries we picked this summer, thawing out in sugar on a warm stove.<br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju8PhgDtNA8J2RrSkJrb2f7ewJyVQQZ0oM6yIAPGr4_EaXtfouZop1Y48TxboVkxZ0Pw9MDmA3kzt7M22LOJvG-l3LlX5xdcKkFgaBHwpVLy20xE40NRkjHuQCHyx6dPdabTiVlg/s1600-h/food+and+things+015.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju8PhgDtNA8J2RrSkJrb2f7ewJyVQQZ0oM6yIAPGr4_EaXtfouZop1Y48TxboVkxZ0Pw9MDmA3kzt7M22LOJvG-l3LlX5xdcKkFgaBHwpVLy20xE40NRkjHuQCHyx6dPdabTiVlg/s400/food+and+things+015.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>Some heavy cream, whipped stiff and introduced to the strawberry goop from the stove (boy was it hard to not mistake it for fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt and eat it for a snack).<br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggs00Ilz5aHOAE15zmdU0wIGLY16eSYagnEjLMDfmrqBHvwQKOfVTTMUqpd3LhP5-e8HqUccO1ZB3Qus1SL3xGVcz2gjGH5YL0P7hEVEWnyNPL61zlwPR3nkfcOo_cR8-sABQESA/s1600-h/food+and+things+016.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggs00Ilz5aHOAE15zmdU0wIGLY16eSYagnEjLMDfmrqBHvwQKOfVTTMUqpd3LhP5-e8HqUccO1ZB3Qus1SL3xGVcz2gjGH5YL0P7hEVEWnyNPL61zlwPR3nkfcOo_cR8-sABQESA/s400/food+and+things+016.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>And the remaining 18 wafers, stuck neatly in line for a treat which is waiting in my freezer now. Mmm.<br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJbpSuarcdozSYhxPQdaKoUHH5HFz7CCuJwanK0ttgGhNIemcuiyKxRsmlcheqUiToNs5GxSdod43YA7yZ6nLgzKnJWmlXS7tY4LZJJKPQEji_wpc8Td24RAe02lz6tlLcru_QsA/s1600-h/food+and+things+017.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJbpSuarcdozSYhxPQdaKoUHH5HFz7CCuJwanK0ttgGhNIemcuiyKxRsmlcheqUiToNs5GxSdod43YA7yZ6nLgzKnJWmlXS7tY4LZJJKPQEji_wpc8Td24RAe02lz6tlLcru_QsA/s400/food+and+things+017.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>It's a Pop-Art Strawberry Icebox Cake, adapted from <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Pop-Art-Raspberry-Icebox-Cake-238747">the one on Epicurious</a> that uses raspberries.<div style="clear:both; text-align:CENTER"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-92221730066977271192009-09-28T10:44:00.000-07:002009-09-28T10:48:48.501-07:00Homecoming<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">As an employee of my alma mater, nostalgia is an elusive feeling. I watched the wrecking ball thwack my freshman dorm to make way for new developments; I run into my old professors every couple of weeks; I'm among the first to hear campus news and big announcements. The transition from undergrad to employee was so fluid, and at this point, I've worked here longer than I studied, so the concept of "homecoming" is mostly lost on me. This weekend, though, homecoming entailed my class's five-year reunion. So before the campus filled up with alumni from various years, I decided to walk around and pretend I haven't been here for awhile.<br /><br />I imagined my first stop would be the site of my aforementioned freshman dorm. It was part of what is known as "The Village." It was comprised of 6 super-ugly, identical buildings that Whitworth acquired after <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Expo_%2774">Expo '74</a>. This is not to say that my experience living in it was any less fun or meaningful, it just got zero points on the aesthetic scale. Whitworth meant to use these buildings as temporary housing for students, but 35 years later, two are still standing. This is one of them.<br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0SKM-QEozrzTXrup3-Asy2V1WtVDx8vIST4yYGjmoVvKR9Mv67tM-GfeUdvu7qPnu_dmfR07MKiuT9jLQs_sokIoHzfHFvG63RnlpVf7cF6N9m8sPxJlRGVOBAQ632iM1fK-bpg/s1600-h/IMG_4033.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0SKM-QEozrzTXrup3-Asy2V1WtVDx8vIST4yYGjmoVvKR9Mv67tM-GfeUdvu7qPnu_dmfR07MKiuT9jLQs_sokIoHzfHFvG63RnlpVf7cF6N9m8sPxJlRGVOBAQ632iM1fK-bpg/s400/IMG_4033.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div>Sophomore and junior years, I upgraded to the historical end of campus. I'm always a sucker for brick buildings and deciduous trees. Can you blame me? One of those windows on the first floor of that building straight ahead was mine. Can you get over that sun-bright green everywhere? These are crucial walks to take while you can.<br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia2zSZrS9nQ1nvKGEHzhGy5WoZJDIRBUCtvQefERq7PXx9QPTEYav69fUzLOsZWLrCK5Dvd5YSA5pX3dyYNcgVKbMA1YdsQ3h_16ETbiIZeIklR9SfD8y5hrZEFcXV87bEumwHPA/s1600-h/IMG_4043.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia2zSZrS9nQ1nvKGEHzhGy5WoZJDIRBUCtvQefERq7PXx9QPTEYav69fUzLOsZWLrCK5Dvd5YSA5pX3dyYNcgVKbMA1YdsQ3h_16ETbiIZeIklR9SfD8y5hrZEFcXV87bEumwHPA/s400/IMG_4043.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div>Many college campuses have quads. Whitworth has a loop. I've always liked that about the campus, because I think it's translated well to Whitworth's intention for its culture. Plus, it makes for fun wordplay in our publications. ("Are you in the loop?" "Get in the loop!" Cheesy, no?) I'm sure that no matter what year you graduated, this shot is one you know well. It could be anywhere in the loop, but those towering pines sure would bring anyone back to memory lane.<br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBH9ggQaBTpQ9VcIcf_bB9Ha5kzVMHfjsU0uwIXG683A2A_Oxp6Aqnx0hZBQM4geGp70C90mLro1XwEhlnnFysCh4_9SRnBiG699wF4cqfYisPgWQWvnGMRT0NAgR2phX95keLjg/s1600-h/IMG_4052.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBH9ggQaBTpQ9VcIcf_bB9Ha5kzVMHfjsU0uwIXG683A2A_Oxp6Aqnx0hZBQM4geGp70C90mLro1XwEhlnnFysCh4_9SRnBiG699wF4cqfYisPgWQWvnGMRT0NAgR2phX95keLjg/s400/IMG_4052.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">The location of the entrance and the geraniums and marigolds that hold out through the first frost and greet you on your way in each fall also haven't changed since the moment I arrived on campus. And here we are, back to where I started.</div></div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBiLsyFLcGKiM9ivwcDgAKthk7jrShU2KLmL1-oocaZX6erx0CiRWs1lvvditOYaAKZwGfU2gxbsYZBqWYUBpcoFypXprldbLs-sOT2ajfoelob42gHmCvToObtiFMAuwJC6U00Q/s1600-h/IMG_4060.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBiLsyFLcGKiM9ivwcDgAKthk7jrShU2KLmL1-oocaZX6erx0CiRWs1lvvditOYaAKZwGfU2gxbsYZBqWYUBpcoFypXprldbLs-sOT2ajfoelob42gHmCvToObtiFMAuwJC6U00Q/s400/IMG_4060.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-67965972044072592692009-09-25T09:49:00.000-07:002009-09-25T09:50:10.166-07:00My first slipper attempt<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">There's just something about these that remind me of a cartoon fish, opening its wide mouth to dispense some sort of sea-life wisdom to a small fry, or to reprimand him. Yup, I'm pretty sure I have <a href="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/VXrCMDoQbtQ/0.jpg">Max Fleischer</a> to blame for this one.<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilHerc_7HHOcctDpKW1jh5hfaaCYt7zTPV4oD2Tm8ygdzx_hFRjhzNPcPvk3QD4KXKjhCfUNu08UtTryibnOs31JQ0_pUlq3bJFWm62XtKT3oxuj4VYXxnwL4SAvNJhM4uyVbpAQ/s1600-h/IMG_4022.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilHerc_7HHOcctDpKW1jh5hfaaCYt7zTPV4oD2Tm8ygdzx_hFRjhzNPcPvk3QD4KXKjhCfUNu08UtTryibnOs31JQ0_pUlq3bJFWm62XtKT3oxuj4VYXxnwL4SAvNJhM4uyVbpAQ/s400/IMG_4022.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div>Once you put them on, however, they resemble slippers. Phew. This is from the <a href="http://purlbee.squarespace.com/mary-jane-slippers/">Mary Jane pattern </a>on Purl Bee. Once I got the hang of it, it was pretty fun. Before I got the hang of it, it was frustrating. My index fingers felt like they had been continually pushing buttons, except the buttons were metal and pointy. Working in the round on a very tight pattern will do that to you. But I just pushed on through, and I felt like a real trooper when things started resembling what I had seen in the pictures.<br /><br />When I first started knitting, I was told that whenever you want to start a new pattern, don't worry about the overall pattern before you start, otherwise you may be too intimidated to even begin. Just take each row as it comes, looking things up in your knitting dictionary or asking an old pro, or searching for tutorials on YouTube along the way if you don't understand what you're supposed to do.<br /><br />This seems to be very unlike sewing, where you better darn well read the entire pattern so you know why there are all these strange markings everywhere, and think twice before you do anything, and I mean anything, lest you screw up the rest of the process. If you have a mom to fix your mistakes (like I do, but only when we're in the same city at the time), you might be okay, but nevertheless, you have to know where you're going with sewing.<br /><br />Couldn't we all just sit here and wax poetic on the comparisons we can draw from this lesson? "I'm just moving through life like a knitting pattern..." perhaps you're thinking. Or maybe, "My life has been carefully mapped out like a sewing pattern...I always kept these little dots marked along the way, knowing I would come back to them someday..."<br /><br />Luckily, this blog was not intended to provide the saccharine for your morning tea. (But I'll go ahead and say "you're welcome" to any who could possibly make use of this analogy.) I just wanted to show you how stuff works out and you end up with some pretty cozy slippers to sit back and relax in. And I did it moving step by step, without reading too far ahead in the pattern! That's what my point was.<br /><br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZvqrRzvtFe-whNoKd57SJq0PDgieZOKAoTiMPAm9MS8XU8syQcwjI-XAWLrhSL7fI_Bjj6MaveZInATI_-85CV82bk5z8s7o_4itgHo3STohjQ-A4B2yNgCHaXdYTfieh19fFg/s1600-h/IMG_4024.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZvqrRzvtFe-whNoKd57SJq0PDgieZOKAoTiMPAm9MS8XU8syQcwjI-XAWLrhSL7fI_Bjj6MaveZInATI_-85CV82bk5z8s7o_4itgHo3STohjQ-A4B2yNgCHaXdYTfieh19fFg/s400/IMG_4024.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br />And now, off they go to the post office to help my about-to-turn-27 friend celebrate her life of easy living.<div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-27045775363783506842009-09-20T20:57:00.000-07:002009-09-20T21:00:29.436-07:00I'm ready for my close-up<div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center">Do you feel uncomfortably close to this decadence?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ1UsEKte7jybSwfINjAGAv4tf0ZPTJgNjt_PQ9UYMXndhuWDab-xfBVa8pn_Bmw4Kzuk0SHOz2ROotKlXCrqIEzlK8NobBUsTKCFP0euqSmQyGNVAYZlX23ggdiXyrhaVuu-5ng/s1600-h/food+and+things+003.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ1UsEKte7jybSwfINjAGAv4tf0ZPTJgNjt_PQ9UYMXndhuWDab-xfBVa8pn_Bmw4Kzuk0SHOz2ROotKlXCrqIEzlK8NobBUsTKCFP0euqSmQyGNVAYZlX23ggdiXyrhaVuu-5ng/s400/food+and+things+003.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>(if not, just click for a larger view, but I hope you don't need to.)<div><br />I made these brownies for a li'l evening party last week, and I thought it would be fun if I allowed our guests to take a bite of these and as I sat back to witness their reaction. But then I chickened out and blurted out the surprise as soon as one of them said, "Oooh, brownies!" Me: "They're spicy!"<br /><br />They're made with cardomom, chipotle powder, coffee extract (because I couldn't find the instant espresso powder it called for) and some other stuff, like gobs of chocolate. And they tasted fantastic with at least 2 of the 3 bottles of red wine we had at our disposal. You can view the recipe on <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2008/09/the-baked-brownie-spiced-up/">Smitten Kitchen</a>, where I always go when I need culinary inspiration (also, Deb has mastered food photography, where I have not).<br /><br />Please prepare yourselves for the making, baking, and raking delights of fall. And I'll prepare myself for the look I know I'm going to get for writing that.<div style="clear:both; text-align:CENTER"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-46813651319686217872009-09-01T20:14:00.000-07:002009-09-01T20:16:03.418-07:00But how can we get the children to eat their lentils?<div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center">For the past 20 years, the Lentil has been the heroic legume of the Palouse.<br /><br />Wax the Beemer, Suzie, it's time to lead the parade to celebrate this culinary wonder. Fresh from Le Cordon Bleu, Mr. Lentil is ready to put the "wow" in this cr-wow-d.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAKZnI08FqP8tdkBWPQkZ8T-Fwerlt67e9PCAUyLrRd02B2BQaOWa7rk22k596AKTnVGL1DmcrnfTB2CYPJPuWY9vZ_L4ovLD5Hd7XMjKChl4UjhWAAOIbmwX134JYvef5hpOvgg/s1600-h/lentils+004.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAKZnI08FqP8tdkBWPQkZ8T-Fwerlt67e9PCAUyLrRd02B2BQaOWa7rk22k596AKTnVGL1DmcrnfTB2CYPJPuWY9vZ_L4ovLD5Hd7XMjKChl4UjhWAAOIbmwX134JYvef5hpOvgg/s400/lentils+004.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>Oh, and Peg, would you mind removing yourself from that Steely Dan song and strapping yourself to a pole in order to flip-flop for about 30 minutes in honor of this thing? We promise we'll have a nice vat of lentil chili ready for you after it's over, because, after all, you'll do anything for lentils, right?<br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU16EHbujTkgtAgtM6GExyfcxoRquwHuHtN6Io3LYiijBS49rIoUAgUN4INqaX2p2hBddpJnAsYPkE7ywBpz1iCbxM4V9d9RXkMBHN8O5YxN5Fpln0NQVXXdayJgCayJdtwKV_fg/s1600-h/lentils+006.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU16EHbujTkgtAgtM6GExyfcxoRquwHuHtN6Io3LYiijBS49rIoUAgUN4INqaX2p2hBddpJnAsYPkE7ywBpz1iCbxM4V9d9RXkMBHN8O5YxN5Fpln0NQVXXdayJgCayJdtwKV_fg/s400/lentils+006.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><br />"Not quite sure how I ended up in this gosh-dern parade, but I reckon enough folks enjoy seeing me do this, and heck! This might be the only shot I have at showing the youngfolk how things used to be done."<br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGH47O0WxRtUnzHAHvplMYkAey1hEu0Tu0km9KlMZPE4Bl5QXN6lnx3sxBhpaNVzKPsCyQTFXB_4SAZYr4DRzuVwuUJM5ZsU6nF-pxrvXkpUs4uqE5X809o9AiVGJkv0rjHjTvhw/s1600-h/lentils+008.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGH47O0WxRtUnzHAHvplMYkAey1hEu0Tu0km9KlMZPE4Bl5QXN6lnx3sxBhpaNVzKPsCyQTFXB_4SAZYr4DRzuVwuUJM5ZsU6nF-pxrvXkpUs4uqE5X809o9AiVGJkv0rjHjTvhw/s400/lentils+008.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>Crystal's all like, "Okay, okay, I get it, trombones." They're doing it for you, Crystal, they're doing it for you. And for the lentils.<br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_svRcCXdcZxqNFBQD12OAU2GXstsw0AEdy-pkCVtTajRDrW3xTv9KTL_CwQ4dYrCdn7wdAgIql37oPE6nXULwFmVQg9AXlNVkjGOzCL1VlK-bwFhiFqGPOJftt5dttAg2Q7Vuuw/s1600-h/lentils+012.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_svRcCXdcZxqNFBQD12OAU2GXstsw0AEdy-pkCVtTajRDrW3xTv9KTL_CwQ4dYrCdn7wdAgIql37oPE6nXULwFmVQg9AXlNVkjGOzCL1VlK-bwFhiFqGPOJftt5dttAg2Q7Vuuw/s400/lentils+012.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>Lentil Festival 2009. Like I would miss this thing.<div style="clear:both; text-align:CENTER"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-12447407959093409642009-08-16T12:30:00.000-07:002009-08-16T12:37:39.435-07:00Isn't it romantic?<div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><div style="text-align: left;">Spending a good hour on this floor really makes you wish you hadn't broken your mop.<br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqejHW3nlwwfoOzhIy63WOsd1waXRsMjBzr2NRI5wTFsaOX3mtZFtweQpAEvHtAjvzSnf0dQ99jOyaYLvkh6IPNo5dYuo88rCWbsMA1xVN4MT5Y98BuAVJ8arreIHSPo80VVMiPQ/s1600-h/hot+027.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqejHW3nlwwfoOzhIy63WOsd1waXRsMjBzr2NRI5wTFsaOX3mtZFtweQpAEvHtAjvzSnf0dQ99jOyaYLvkh6IPNo5dYuo88rCWbsMA1xVN4MT5Y98BuAVJ8arreIHSPo80VVMiPQ/s400/hot+027.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>But the pain was worth it, as I got to eat this top-drawer meal, listen to my Ink Spots record, and read my new Ready-Made magazine, all by the gleam of it.<br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd1ksSAojxWT-u25OL285lIBkCHtlyc2-ClRk2M1QjW4gwy6LoVv5DdfQVXOlyPMm7z97JdyNbonQRjHiq6zm3acuT9OKMQ1LAS8XJDHabdg2BNdABhhOfbImCyF_Efp0MN6XdYA/s1600-h/hot+028.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd1ksSAojxWT-u25OL285lIBkCHtlyc2-ClRk2M1QjW4gwy6LoVv5DdfQVXOlyPMm7z97JdyNbonQRjHiq6zm3acuT9OKMQ1LAS8XJDHabdg2BNdABhhOfbImCyF_Efp0MN6XdYA/s400/hot+028.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>The only thing left to make this solo evening truly complete was to find this playing on my TV and sit down with a big box of Kleenex and eat bon bons.<br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1OQnYr4ZPkfkQ493-Tj52_-wqMN-ZBhGzr077cv0Qf-0thYxEIV4A_EY9diPHkdp0DsKHG3jg6QEsCut_EHQbj9weEj5hg6Iq-a3mxa8S3x8xXCP8FWuwpktizvb4dmOS7ifylw/s1600-h/hot+031.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1OQnYr4ZPkfkQ493-Tj52_-wqMN-ZBhGzr077cv0Qf-0thYxEIV4A_EY9diPHkdp0DsKHG3jg6QEsCut_EHQbj9weEj5hg6Iq-a3mxa8S3x8xXCP8FWuwpktizvb4dmOS7ifylw/s400/hot+031.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>Just kidding. I scrammed out of the house to meet a friend for drinks. But I really had you there for a second, didn't I? HA!<div style="clear:both; text-align:CENTER"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-62987956642817157882009-08-07T21:02:00.000-07:002009-08-07T21:05:48.009-07:00The gift of an afternoon off<div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><div style="text-align: left;">I'm not sure which came first - my love of the name "Black-eyed Susan" or my love of the flower itself.<br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMw5gWt3QaleXPn3uzT27tqk4An1ndsS-9yrhhcuyf3PXekXPF3fMXybitVQsJbcR152Drh3amIR-v-Q0yj-Vq6ucZVVHnTgqI4qE5MuKEB_sgmfbrTvt79YvD_PTopq36roQHEg/s1600-h/hot+009.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMw5gWt3QaleXPn3uzT27tqk4An1ndsS-9yrhhcuyf3PXekXPF3fMXybitVQsJbcR152Drh3amIR-v-Q0yj-Vq6ucZVVHnTgqI4qE5MuKEB_sgmfbrTvt79YvD_PTopq36roQHEg/s400/hot+009.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>On a recent afternoon, I took advantage of a network outage at work to just enjoy the summer heat with a walk around Manito Park. There's something about walking around a park - or anywhere - by myself that makes my senses all the more heightened and my mind all the more curious. For instance, in the butterfly garden, I spent a good long time trying to figure out what inspired this mathematical equation, etched in the park bench. Thoughts?<br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09KTVZXO5-jMWYIr_q4ldmkXpfnQEChGkuBUypGcgDtjcWNyFP17tyM0XZvfWzyOnTPbHMRgAEDxOJszX_CXWY2QB-BJKqLD2IZO4tWyXGod-CNPj6nMaiR42MtGAvXEsTplO4Q/s1600-h/hot+010.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09KTVZXO5-jMWYIr_q4ldmkXpfnQEChGkuBUypGcgDtjcWNyFP17tyM0XZvfWzyOnTPbHMRgAEDxOJszX_CXWY2QB-BJKqLD2IZO4tWyXGod-CNPj6nMaiR42MtGAvXEsTplO4Q/s400/hot+010.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>And then I can never end a visit without going to the dahlia section. Man, I love these things. The petals are sometimes so tubular, and long and floppy, mangy even, it's impossible for me to look at them without mentally morphing them into a lion's head, like in <a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/164/422366053_849efba19f.jpg?v=0">Alice In Wonderland</a>. And then, there are dahlias like these, that baffle you as to how they could belong in the same family. Beautiful.<br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWEqa2oMX8EaaatsKYPI3J63eBUwSnMn1mJ-NwkBIcb0OQZhGOhGpZUAQrCOwIIwtaJeTi9x3PU9KojNhkBDR-Qxc64FvZYUhikiC1r45T9vcjGhVBCW7TMnZpI2GUvTUKBWJ2w/s1600-h/hot+026.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWEqa2oMX8EaaatsKYPI3J63eBUwSnMn1mJ-NwkBIcb0OQZhGOhGpZUAQrCOwIIwtaJeTi9x3PU9KojNhkBDR-Qxc64FvZYUhikiC1r45T9vcjGhVBCW7TMnZpI2GUvTUKBWJ2w/s400/hot+026.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="clear:both; text-align:CENTER"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-87541786446228359722009-08-03T17:40:00.000-07:002009-08-03T17:41:02.505-07:00Plaid to meet you<div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><div style="text-align: left;">On a nearly 100-degree Sunday afternoon, having spent a considerable amount of time in the air conditioned bookstore, I toted Msr. Dumas, an iced Americano and my picnic blanket over to the park to find some shade. As soon as I sat down, I realized I had created a ridiculous plaid mess, wearing my plaid dress on a plaid blanket. In addition, I was about to read page 1 of a 1,400 page, 3 lb. book. <br /></div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAYOz8hOCjKDFlGyoLQtvLXexfn5LeKUhUDAhT8TBPQO3rEtAwbxPOT0j6X5LeolWsD2eY_ESgecp2e2gW1qkZrO0OB6d-vjQSFPkH18LTjRqWHx_JcwdX-t7VkimgNRFr2ivJiA/s1600-h/hot+002.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAYOz8hOCjKDFlGyoLQtvLXexfn5LeKUhUDAhT8TBPQO3rEtAwbxPOT0j6X5LeolWsD2eY_ESgecp2e2gW1qkZrO0OB6d-vjQSFPkH18LTjRqWHx_JcwdX-t7VkimgNRFr2ivJiA/s400/hot+002.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I'm just glad this guy arrived to add his stripes to the pattern ensemble. We were quite the sight.<br /></div></div><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjgcBjLObuv-FJ3odFMLdE1_YCQ0SZRXLoMirztkP5lgfdsGEQXg_V2kjbt5gK1MaV-vGdcoNuYq3hDB79S00BBmZZNRUTGt0yJQa-GY8DN3AeqOj_YxPuTR3g8TWBVkSCfuErIg/s1600-h/hot+003.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjgcBjLObuv-FJ3odFMLdE1_YCQ0SZRXLoMirztkP5lgfdsGEQXg_V2kjbt5gK1MaV-vGdcoNuYq3hDB79S00BBmZZNRUTGt0yJQa-GY8DN3AeqOj_YxPuTR3g8TWBVkSCfuErIg/s400/hot+003.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="clear:both; text-align:CENTER"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-18948649302090528102009-07-30T22:32:00.000-07:002009-07-30T22:45:31.024-07:00The fruits of my labor, it seems<div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><div style="text-align: left;">I'm trying to rediscover the joys of blogging while also relishing these days of hot weather. It's tough! I'll keep trying.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">The heat prompted me to do two things today. The first was to make sun tea. I left a jug on the back deck this morning before going to work, and when I got home, I drank a nice tall glass of peach iced tea. (But only after sending away a fruit salesman. No joke, he came to the door as I pulled up to the house after work, holding an armful of citrus fruits - a grapefruit, lemons, a lime, and an orange. Tried to sell me them by the crateful, cut each one open for me to sample, right there on the front step. I thought for a moment of Snow White and feared for my life a little bit, but how could I resist the novelty of eating a grapefruit on one of the hottest days year? I couldn't. So there I was, one hand holding my keys, travel mug, purse and book, the other hand dripping with citrus juice and drying into a sticky mess. After I politely turned down his sales pitch, he proceeded to collect ALL of the fruit he had just cut open and carefully placed them in my sticky hand/arm. "Don't want this to go to waste!" he said. Thus ended the weird encounter with Fruit Man and began the most clever maneuver of my life to unlock the front door without dropping the exposed fruits.)<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So, sun tea. It went great with this Pasta alla Norma I made from a recipe in Cook's Illustrated. This was also the first time I ever bought anchovies! That is how much I trust the folks in the Test Kitchen. If they say a recipe needs it, I will not question it. And I liked it here. Not sure I would recommend a pasta dish on a hot day, but whatevs.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn5TVONiRlLMmLl6rH2iWbj4vtn0IMYIB8m-SdshWF-6i5FHeDqfCyFm8pIx4hA0edToq8bbc2Xvizgs8SK8r0lJqtKbRU_Z_KM9c4EYmUHoA5DkHLX7Qa2PkYjOxE-iphlNOGwQ/s1600-h/tis+July+these+days+191.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn5TVONiRlLMmLl6rH2iWbj4vtn0IMYIB8m-SdshWF-6i5FHeDqfCyFm8pIx4hA0edToq8bbc2Xvizgs8SK8r0lJqtKbRU_Z_KM9c4EYmUHoA5DkHLX7Qa2PkYjOxE-iphlNOGwQ/s400/tis+July+these+days+191.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>The second hot-weather novelty of the day was this serendipitous marriage of stuff we had in the freezer. Strawberries, lemon sorbet, limoncello, ice. Oh, and a little club soda to make it blend more easily. And a little sprig of basil to make it fancy. Ooooh man. Brilliant. We are so good to us.<br /><br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEu3I9sSizaHnC-UZqmKjrVzkuM2G_aaeXXOjqrtULrK7pP4DyeSBPJHmfFkYgaDuewxuTRL7WYoLcsL_0S3MfhzroRNvjDXjZ-MtFPCwYnHQ1QbyuYdJpbs3qYDHBREP7E-ai_Q/s1600-h/tis+July+these+days+199.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEu3I9sSizaHnC-UZqmKjrVzkuM2G_aaeXXOjqrtULrK7pP4DyeSBPJHmfFkYgaDuewxuTRL7WYoLcsL_0S3MfhzroRNvjDXjZ-MtFPCwYnHQ1QbyuYdJpbs3qYDHBREP7E-ai_Q/s400/tis+July+these+days+199.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="clear:both; text-align:CENTER"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-37396354522913845532009-07-08T16:20:00.000-07:002009-07-09T12:01:55.561-07:00Points of Defiance<div style="text-align: center;">Warm and welcoming trails in the woods.<br /></div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUFEB_2SAxYT8TEdZnxXqi6uWDSjBNG8-Q3pkFknf-9hgQSd635iVyXr-C1vwLT950NU9YB3yEcnc9iiB12eCde-otOINF2L_hPpbb2putCCJfc-FIwNUHvWCaiJkqlqiUZ8JJWA/s1600-h/tacoma+and+things+001.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUFEB_2SAxYT8TEdZnxXqi6uWDSjBNG8-Q3pkFknf-9hgQSd635iVyXr-C1vwLT950NU9YB3yEcnc9iiB12eCde-otOINF2L_hPpbb2putCCJfc-FIwNUHvWCaiJkqlqiUZ8JJWA/s400/tacoma+and+things+001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Tiny daisies, whiter than white, waiting for an Alice in Wonderland to fashion into a chain.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil3nf1NBMHYwdkQnTzHoOhOUuVZhrOwBnISECTqUnw0QBS9nCXQokHUEPhP8SRFAS_Xj-KlmT-IFVKKI3I-Ra8HXbmd_HgzLaUeZ3PgPrl2vWGhRuehLZW2TLVUJxCBoAb-eYzhQ/s1600-h/tacoma+and+things+003.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil3nf1NBMHYwdkQnTzHoOhOUuVZhrOwBnISECTqUnw0QBS9nCXQokHUEPhP8SRFAS_Xj-KlmT-IFVKKI3I-Ra8HXbmd_HgzLaUeZ3PgPrl2vWGhRuehLZW2TLVUJxCBoAb-eYzhQ/s400/tacoma+and+things+003.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Thoughtful chomps.<br /></div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxt07XtP7N78fMHHTDCXrjDLwXY9iHxhd1JIvcqvmZJTQX28LJ-_hyphenhyphen32hheEzYRsMNxHBQ5tD4vndG5kXuk0PQTOVEzSP4-B3wTZ4esquSt0u5pr-2a1K2SIBkYdfkI_GGyeAEQ/s1600-h/tacoma+and+things+008.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxt07XtP7N78fMHHTDCXrjDLwXY9iHxhd1JIvcqvmZJTQX28LJ-_hyphenhyphen32hheEzYRsMNxHBQ5tD4vndG5kXuk0PQTOVEzSP4-B3wTZ4esquSt0u5pr-2a1K2SIBkYdfkI_GGyeAEQ/s400/tacoma+and+things+008.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Someone's job, not mine.<br /></div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw4dbfOLlNG-Ykke-kCfUVN-Hrlf9-EJDdCTYgNQcSJnfN8DkJX3IaVFwTUxgxjD3tAkxscMnWROSNZSzcPKDSnUqma1PmFnmE_YvJY2udlG20qD52Zgu5jGiRfu3Klognz92WgA/s1600-h/tacoma+and+things+004.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw4dbfOLlNG-Ykke-kCfUVN-Hrlf9-EJDdCTYgNQcSJnfN8DkJX3IaVFwTUxgxjD3tAkxscMnWROSNZSzcPKDSnUqma1PmFnmE_YvJY2udlG20qD52Zgu5jGiRfu3Klognz92WgA/s400/tacoma+and+things+004.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Lazy, rust-colored streams.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrAuirIhjIrtyW2jf71AQeRby0ArrrWl41AVVkwlim8X1SGTgoQUURmEHBCPNGw2RebAuE1EwyEKXRp5S1pX3rikPmmnF1y6hIm1TVyxPjZJ2Nad0BXOCQdytkh8srBH5uftbosA/s1600-h/tacoma+and+things+009.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrAuirIhjIrtyW2jf71AQeRby0ArrrWl41AVVkwlim8X1SGTgoQUURmEHBCPNGw2RebAuE1EwyEKXRp5S1pX3rikPmmnF1y6hIm1TVyxPjZJ2Nad0BXOCQdytkh8srBH5uftbosA/s400/tacoma+and+things+009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356532828213669298" border="0" /></a>Inferiority complexes.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZX5PW1V7-my16lCnnrq7DKERXCRJ_kY0zSL19dxXwVvUd-sl8YUpuMXr4Fefv5xBKMAh5_CSJSZ1B-86C2wVpZR3gN_nvw1j9aUofCQy3lvpWgJY2rPTX7nsnvPP5PdXw_f9Xg/s1600-h/tacoma+and+things+012.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZX5PW1V7-my16lCnnrq7DKERXCRJ_kY0zSL19dxXwVvUd-sl8YUpuMXr4Fefv5xBKMAh5_CSJSZ1B-86C2wVpZR3gN_nvw1j9aUofCQy3lvpWgJY2rPTX7nsnvPP5PdXw_f9Xg/s400/tacoma+and+things+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356533487901010066" border="0" /></a>Your standard western Washington foxglove onslaught.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNuvvMQjgKCpdI76RDSHf8n5Ru_Sr10_bzf4lke4xpmYQwGGoCGfXaB-85bvkbcAKHMVJjFRAIcrd1ibL_lVwyG_hGBMC2aEZhHf5vpXM8J9FgRmtdhB7uRbJdipzHU3FU8PwlKA/s1600-h/tacoma+and+things+020.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNuvvMQjgKCpdI76RDSHf8n5Ru_Sr10_bzf4lke4xpmYQwGGoCGfXaB-85bvkbcAKHMVJjFRAIcrd1ibL_lVwyG_hGBMC2aEZhHf5vpXM8J9FgRmtdhB7uRbJdipzHU3FU8PwlKA/s400/tacoma+and+things+020.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356533275913670898" border="0" /></a>Shadowed inspirational phrases not engraved in Papyrus typeface.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKlgIAaMVSbGYKHghQH8qXHGMV9ds66YXhWSQkq5PP2vPYTNFhDDbTlMQU3edqu_EarTipLygWapnOrlRPCJX85xlOrs_Rtygh_eMAL1DyoqhbSiocTFomOign2yoTYELEzMBlIA/s1600-h/tacoma+and+things+013.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKlgIAaMVSbGYKHghQH8qXHGMV9ds66YXhWSQkq5PP2vPYTNFhDDbTlMQU3edqu_EarTipLygWapnOrlRPCJX85xlOrs_Rtygh_eMAL1DyoqhbSiocTFomOign2yoTYELEzMBlIA/s400/tacoma+and+things+013.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356533789873084690" border="0" /></a>The slow collection of a 4th of July feast.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3l0qStAdh3HTcXSnSFEFnq5uD8bR2-3BPBwJydJkAG47kIzb19jSoV3FT83-QkDBLEDLZHT6EnInWAvlyqOx0G-RyjmtsAsCnN0iBOTnm8ugerK73H6cINhNdRW4jD4W2dNTA6A/s1600-h/tacoma+and+things+015.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3l0qStAdh3HTcXSnSFEFnq5uD8bR2-3BPBwJydJkAG47kIzb19jSoV3FT83-QkDBLEDLZHT6EnInWAvlyqOx0G-RyjmtsAsCnN0iBOTnm8ugerK73H6cINhNdRW4jD4W2dNTA6A/s400/tacoma+and+things+015.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356534002791637138" border="0" /></a>Nothing defiant about any of these things, really. Just nice to find them all in one place.<br /></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8953173.post-13120087444187031032009-06-30T23:33:00.000-07:002009-06-30T23:33:32.803-07:00Ringing out the old.<div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center">Fiscal Year 2009. And what a year it was.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyTRkQT-UM6_WYpjpOECngKbgeLGoOyOEurcqskAtpabJj3SQa9MFqIikmT_j1WZoY8sXNwaXIBrrskQAHS5oLQB-oxlbek1yi3T8pdML-fc-qudVDIWNOwgIqY-CdKf_fJsly4w/s1600-h/3+Junes+076.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyTRkQT-UM6_WYpjpOECngKbgeLGoOyOEurcqskAtpabJj3SQa9MFqIikmT_j1WZoY8sXNwaXIBrrskQAHS5oLQB-oxlbek1yi3T8pdML-fc-qudVDIWNOwgIqY-CdKf_fJsly4w/s400/3+Junes+076.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><br />I don't seem to talk much about work on here, and probably with good reason, but in case you didn't know, I'm a fundraiser for my alma mater. And the phrase "in these economic times" has been rubbing against my optimistic grain for months. Maybe I've been doing this for so long that I can't see the other side of the token, but for whatever reason, I have a hard time accepting that a flipping recession could affect my beloved annual fund so dramatically. <br /><br />One of the many reasons I got so excited about the Obama campaign was that I thought I saw attitudes about philanthropy changing. If ever there was a moment in time when people actually believed "every little bit counts," that was it. I gave a few dollars the first time I was asked, and the crazy thing was that when I was asked to give a little bit more, I gave again. I didn't think twice. <br /><br />Granted, being part of a huge movement in an historical election is a little bit different than giving to an annual fund of one's alma mater. We're going to be asking you guys every damn year, unless you tell us to cut it out. However, I thought, FINALLY I had a real example to back up the aforementioned mantra.<br /><br />So today marked the day when all our work over the last 365 days was realized. And <em>in these economic times, </em>surprise, we have not made our goal for the annual fund. Dollars are down. Number of alumni donors is down. But I don't feel right about blaming the economy. My hypothesis is that many of us are focusing on giving to a select few organizations where we can make more of a difference than if we give to every cause that knocks on our door (or calls us during the dinner hour). It makes sense, I'll admit. But if I could ask all college graduates to do one thing, it would be to make a gift every year to their alma mater. No matter how much you give, it causes a (albeit very slow) ripple effect: a.) lots of alumni giving = great students can afford to come to your alma mater = recognition of student achievements = improved reputation of your school = your degree is worth more; and b.) lots of alumni giving = better standing in grant applications = more funding for your school = bright students are attracted to your school = reputation = value of your degree = etc. If you follow the news and you know that there's a reason to preface everything money-related with "in these economic times," you've probably heard that higher education, and the overall non-profit sector, have taken a huge hit. If this calls you to any sort of action in giving, I applaud you.<br /><br />In any case, despite our non-banner year for the annual fund, I did have a pretty decent FY09, professionally speaking. I won a couple awards, I got a promotion and a new boss, and celebrated my fifth year working in fundraising. For someone under the age of 30, I'm feeling pretty good, and I still feel optimistic. And I work at a place that values my creativity and let me produce what could easily be considered my proudest work this past year. That being said, I know what needs to happen in FY10. Wish me luck!<div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16159674797016695014noreply@blogger.com0