heading west.

We've spent a week here in my hometown, Glen Ellyn--this winter wonderland, snow village sort of place--with my family and friends. The snow hasn't stopped falling and the food hasn't stopped coming and it's just been perfect... the sort of holiday you try to memorize, minute by minute, hoping to always remember it. 

This morning, though, we are heading west--to San Francisco--to see his family and all of our friends from college. We'll be spending a week in California, including a few days in Lake Tahoe for New Years, and I just couldn't be more excited. It'll be warmer and sunnier (hopefully) and a little vacation is just what we need to kick off the new year!

 I may post a time or two while we're gone, but it'll be pretty quiet around here until 2011 :)

Hope you've all had a wonderful holiday! 

I'm curious: are you making any resolutions this new year? What are they? 

happy holidays!

First of all, how adorable is this decoration that my mom gave us? (She's the best.)

I'm absolutely in love with how simple and lovely it is--totally my style. (Plus it lights up. Bonus!)

What are your holiday plans? Any fun traditions? Radley and I will be spending Christmas at my parents' house (the same one I grew up in) with my four siblings, their husbands/wives, and my five nieces and nephews... It will be noisy, chaotic, and absolutely perfect. I can't wait.

Wishing you all the happiest of holidays! 

blissful silence.

I can be really wordy sometimes... I know this. 

I can be really introspective and really reflective and really, well, writer-y.

But sometimes--especially when I'm so busy and energetic and lighthearted that I don't even have time to think--the words just aren't there... In their place, there's a sort of blissful silence. A delightful quiet. It's rare for me, this peace, and it's the simplest of joys.

Presents are wrapped, family is in town, and snow keeps falling.

And I'm just feeling really, really, it's-almost-Christmas happy right now.

... I love this time of year.

oh, just a snowy day at the park... ( part 2 )

Because sometimes it's good to feel five years old again.

And also... well why not, right?

P.S. In other (etsy) news: loving this hat, this scarf, and these mittens. Oh, and also this pillow. (Of course.)

P.P.S. Welcome to all the new followers and many thanks to those of you who have sent me the sweetest of emails... your kind words are always appreciated and I love to hear from you!

P.P.P.S. Four days til Christmas! :)

oh, just a snowy day at the park... ( part 1 )

A few things I learned this weekend:

1. Twenty degree weather is (semi) bearable if the sun is out.

2. Compassion really is one of the best qualities a person can have.

3. Starbucks peppermint white hot chocolate is heaven.

4. There are few things as fantastic as a super witty best friend.

5. Fingerless gloves--although cute--are not so functional.

6. I'm obsessed with cable knit everything... (no, but seriously.)

7. Francesca's Pizzeria on Clark is, well, awesome.

8. Hunter boots are everything they're cracked up to be.

9. Things won't always go as expected... but, yes, you'll survive.

(Photos: my flickr)

a snowglobe sort of magic.

Yesterday was a hectic day of wrapping, shipping, and last-minute, are-we-sure-we-haven't-missed-anyone? Shopping. Radley and I took the Lincoln Park neighborhood by storm, hustling and bustling our way through lines that weaved back-and-forth as if we were at Disneyland. 

And then, standing at the top of a parking garage, I turned around to see the Chicago skyline staring back at me. I stopped--finally, for the first time in hours--and took a breath. I love this city, I told him. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now.

Because as much as I love the California sun, and as much as I miss my little San Diego beach house, there's just something about Chicago this time of year. It's cold, yes--brutally so. And the wind can be sharp as knives when it blows against your face. And, okay, the car door might have been frozen.

But the lights are up and the snow is falling and the whole city has taken on a snowglobe sort of magic. So I'm happy. And I'm grateful. And, yes, exactly where I want to be.

Hope you all have a lovely (and warm) weekend! 

caught off-guard.

It's a strange, delightful, compelling sort of thing when you surprise yourself.

By its very definition, every surprise has the power to excite--or, perhaps, terrify--but you think you know yourself so well that there could never be any surprises. You assume there's nothing you could say or do that you couldn't have somehow predicted. You think you know your character. You think you know your disposition--how you react, how you internalize, how you process your day-to-day world. 

And you think--almost certainly, almost without question--that you'll never catch yourself off-guard... that is, of course, until you do.

I'm an emotional person. And this, to anyone who's ever known me personally, is quite the understatement. An epic understatement, really. Perhaps it's the writer in me, or the actress, or just the fact that I'm my mother's daughter--but whatever it is, I've never failed to let my feelings grasp me wholly.

And I lean toward the same set of emotions, too. Anxious? Often. Elated? Of course. Guilt? Oh, we're best friends. But then, of course, there's love, empathy, fear, melancholy, nostalgia--my go-to standbys. I feel them all, and I feel them fully. For better or for worse.

But lately, for whatever reason, this tendency toward deep feeling--toward thick and wholehearted emotion--must be taking time off. It isn't that I've been numb--no, it definitely isn't that. It's just that I'm able to breathe right through a feeling--as if it's air, mist, a bubble i'm able to pop. The feelings drift in, nod their acknowledgements, and then float on. They don't settle. They don't dawdle. They don't loiter around looking for my attention.

And I like to think that this is me learning grace. Learning ease. Learning how to move through this world just a little bit better, with just a little bit more conviction.

It's been a lovely little surprise, this newfound grace.

Yes. A lovely little surprise indeed.

(Photo: kate)

morning musings.

Sometimes, things won't change. or people won't change. or circumstances won't change.

Sometimes, you'll want them to--but, well, they won't.

What must change, then, is you.

Your attitude, the way you feel about it all.

... So it goes, right?

(Photo: kelley leigh)

a list of little things | my obsessions

Part Five in the list of little things series

my obsessions:

fresh flowers along the windowsill.

charming, character-driven fiction novels.

any and everything about pop culture.

the basil leaf cafe in Lincoln Park.

the 90's decade as a whole.

all things French. Paris. Montmartre.

j. crew, Kate Spade, and Anthro. (flawless.)

football movies / t.v. shows... yep, all of them.

witty back-and-forth among friends.

boardgames, card games, and charades.

pro bars for breakfast--especially nutty banana.

lame matching t-shirts for all occasions.

songs--and lyrics--that resonate.

hockey (huge, lifelong Blackhawks fan.)

beautiful handwriting + beautiful stationery.

outdoor summer music festivals.

California, my oh-so-sunny second home.

sending (and, of course, receiving) snail mail.

super-soft long-sleeve shirts like this one.

people with unique, hilarious laughs.

any and everything gold.

and--last but not least--academia.

Tell me: what are your obsessions?

(Photo: alice)

oh-so-happy for honeysuckle.

I'm sort of a color nerd.

One of my dream jobs, for instance--since I was about four--has been to name crayon colors. I used to come up with my own names for the crayons, convinced that Crayola wasn't getting the job done. For some reason or another, I was always particularly bothered by the in-between shades--the 'yellow-green' and the 'orange-red'... I felt sad for them, like they deserved to have special, original sort of names like the other crayons--like 'jazzberry jam' and 'mango tango' and 'screamin green'. Oh, and my other weird childhood obsession? Paint color swatches.

This is all to say that I find a strange, giddy sort of delight in colors, in the meanings and implications and associations we attach to them. I'm a huge, huge fan, then, of Pantone's color of the year series. They originally won me over by making cerulean the color of the millennium (see my love for the color here.) And I thought they'd never beat last year's turquoise choice--a pick that made me oh-so-happy because I have a turquoise room and a serious, ridiculous, out of control love for Tiffany blue. (But really, who doesn't?)

This year's choice, though--honeysuckle--might make me even happier. It's buoyant and joyful and lighthearted--everything I wish to be in the 2011 year.

What can I say? I'm just tickled pink.

1. honeysuckle photo: f.a. ecker 2. honeysuckle house photo: david 3. ring: simply riveting on etsy 4. throw pillow: joom on etsy 5. "sunshine day" print: samantha hahn.


P.S. Other Pantone color of the year posts to check out:
from a fashion angle on decor8.
an article from the Huffington Post.
an inspiration board on jubilee events.
some etsy finds from kyla roma.
an interior take on pineapple house.
and, of course, Sam's 2010 turquoise post :)


I'm curious: what's your take on Pantone's pick?

five senses friday.

feeling: five years old--giddy, really--over the way snow rests on branches.

tasting: passion iced tea from Starbucks (I'm obsessed.)

hearing: "Best Thing in My Life" by Cary Pierce, an old favorite.

smelling: a cinnamon apple-scented candle.

seeing: a stack of Christmas cards (from Greer) ready to be sent out!

*Find out more about five senses friday on abby try again--and tell me: what's filling your senses today?

(Photo: Sarah Kidmose Hansen)

today i believe...

... that homemade cornbread comforts like nothing else.

... that sunlight twinkling in the snow makes 12 degree weather semi-bearable.

... that cozy knitted mittens make you feel eight years old again.

... that better 'n peanut butter really is better than peanut butter.

... that menial chores--laundry, dishes, vacuuming--can be oddly therapeutic.

... that sometimes, only your sister can understand.

... that getting away, even if only for a few days, gives you room to breathe.

... and that awareness--in all its forms--is so, so important.

(Photo: emmy.leah)

because people change.

The way you label yourself can be a dangerous, self-destructive game.

If someone once called you a perfectionist or a people pleaser or a terrible cook, you hold onto that. Tightly. You remember that label years later and dwell on it, convinced that it's true, until--lo and behold--you've actually gone ahead and made it true. Somewhere along the line you imposed the label on yourself and ever since, you've attached that word to who you believe you are. 

You especially pay attention to the ones that meant the most at the time--for better or for worse. Someone told you that you were a great painter in the second grade? Ta-da! You're convinced that you're an artist from then on, the best of the best. You hear that you look terrible in yellow? You never buy the color again. Ever.

Whether the label is good--"You're a fabulous photographer!"--or not so good--"You know, you can be really selfish sometimes..."--you become convinced that the labels are right on, that you really are those things... And the more you tell yourself that you are a certain way, the more you actually become that way. 

But this is ridiculous, this habit of yours. 

It's false and unhealthy and you end up hurting no one but yourself.

Because the thing is, you're never all one thing... you can be a wonderful cook one day and then stir up the world's worst recipe the next. Back in the day you may have been a star math student--gold star stickers and all--but maybe, later on, calculus stumps you. And that's fine. That's normal. That's expected. Because we are fluid and flexible. We are adaptable. 

What I'm trying to say is--we tend to ignore our own changeable nature. 

We talk a whole lot about change in certain areas of our lives--in work, in love, in our latest look. But for whatever reason, we tend to forget that we may have changed in other ways, too... Maybe you're not the submissive people pleaser you once were--maybe you've learned to be more self-confident, more independent. Maybe you're not so passive anymore, either, because you've learned--at long, long last--to stick up for yourself. Or maybe yellow really is your color, just in a different shade.

You have to let go of those little labels you've gotten so wrapped up in, those haunting words that bounce around in your brain: selfish, neurotic, anxious--because the important thing is to know yourself as you are. Not as you've been or as you will be, but as you are right now, today, as is. 

Oh, and you should also buy yellow sweaters.

Because yes, (ahem), you can pull off a good j.crew mustard.


(Photo: moe de triana)

midwest winters are no joke...

We had a really, really great--and really, really cold--weekend.

Here are a few snapshots from our trip to Green Bay...

Heading out (and already bundled up):

A little bowling date at Ashwaubenon's finest:

 Oh, just looking like a 13 year old emo boy once I took off my Uggs:

At the game (Radley's birthday present):

The "Frozen Tundra" (literally):

Four pairs of pants + six shirts + two coats = Ralphie from "A Christmas Story":

Loving every second of it:

And, as if making up for the cold, a gorgeous sunset on our way home:

It was a calm, cozy, wonderful weekend--exactly what I needed.

aAd now, of course, it's back to routine and errands and my mile-long to-do list... But luckily, I brought home some white hot chocolate (my favorite!) to let the weekend loveliness linger just a little bit longer.

hitting the road.

Radley and I are off to Green Bay for the weekend!  

It's going to be cold--very, very, I'll-need-eight-layers cold--but I couldn't be more excited... We'll be going to the Niners/Packers game at Lambeau Field and I. Can't. Wait. 

More than anything, though, I'm happy to turn off my phone, stow away my computer, and just be for a few days... because it's good to just disconnect every once in a while, isn't it?

What are all of you up to this weekend?

Keep warm & happy Friday!

(Photo: Tony Starr) 

keeping cozy.

When it's twenty degrees outside and snowing, with a "real feel" of eight degrees, I look for any and everything that might make me feel cozy... This means warm fires, flannel sheets, velvety blankets, apple cider, wool mittens, hot soups, and comfy little nooks where I can curl up with a good book.

But it also means diving wholeheartedly--and, okay, semi-obnoxiously--into the holidays. these past few days we've spent all our free time decorating every little corner of our apartment. There are snowmen and santas and christmas lights galore. We have Radley's childhood nativity scene and a brand new fabric advent calendar and snowglobes aplenty.

Because the holidays--unlike big blankets or thick mittens or flannel pajamas--can make you feel cozy from the inside out... and that's the best kind of cozy, don't you think?

cafe musings.

If you're anything like me, there's a lot of things you find yourself missing. 

Maybe you miss past friends, past homes, past loves, or past moments. Maybe it's your childhood neighbor or a city you visited once or that night you stood under the streetlamp with snow falling all around you. Well, whatever it is, all that missing we're doing means we're ignoring what's right in front of us--means we're passing over new people and places and memories worthy of missing someday. 

'Missing' itself is a funny word, though, isn't it? As an adjective, it can mean lost or gone or misplaced. It can mean absent, lacking, wanting... Or, as a verb, 'miss' can mean failing to catch, mishandling, screwing up. It can mean failing to attend, letting slip, evading. Sometimes, too, it means to pine for, to ache for, to long for. 

Well, whatever you're missing--whether it's because it's lost or absent, or because you screwed up, or because someone else screwed up, or because you're simply aching for it--try to remember that in missing it, you're also missing something else. You're missing an opportunity for a new, different sort of chance, a different adventure... maybe even a better one.

(Photo: ~ella)