Wanda, AKA "Smoochers"

West Highland Terrier, by Emily Burrowes

Today I post in honor of Wanda, currently one of my two favorite family dogs.

I love my Wanda! She is my smoocher-face, and my favorite fluffy thing to cuddle with. She skips when she is happy, loves to share my cereal, and is always overjoyed to see me.Thanks to Matt & Heather for having a dog so close to where I live.

Fan of Khaki Paint

Khaki paint: just enough color to fill the wall with, but not neutral enough to be a beige. I am a fan of khaki paint. It's a lovely foundation for any color palette, or many splashes of color as shown here. It isn't plain, but it also isn't overwhelming. The over all effect is a cozy glow so relaxing it makes me want to curl up and read.

I love those pillows, too. They look like *chrysanthemums.

*Sorry, Gil, not chrysanthamum.

I've Had Enough of Zombies

On Saturday Dylan and I played two of the best board games with some friends, one which I won't tell you about yet (it's a surprise!) and the 0ther, which is called Betrayal at House on the Hill.

It's really fun-- you use cards to explore a creepy old house until one player discovers that it's haunted. That player then turns on the other players and then plays by villain rules. It's wicked cool. This time the main player turned into a zombie lord.

It sort of reminds me of the old game Labyrinth, where certain tiles were flipped upside down. Did any of you ever play that game?

Bill-- I blame you -- "All I Wanna Do Is Eat Your Brains" was stuck in my head all night. :(

Southern Winter Wind

I wouldn't have been surprised to see Elvira Gulch fly her Schwinn past my window.

According to my sources of weather information, there were 25-30 mph winds in Provo last night. I believe it. For the following reasons (not in chronological order):

1. This morning I discovered shingles all over my lawn from either my house, carport, or the neighbor's houses.

2. After finding our garbage can in the middle of our driveway, we moved it back into its spot by the house. An hour later it was in the street (quite a distance to travel, really. It's a long driveway). After moving it again, along with several pieces of cardboard, two snowshovels and a broom-- all which had become dislodged by the gale-- it moved again. Dylan and I then pried up bricks from a patio-type-thing in our backyard, roadblocked it, and weighed it down. (I mention this is quite the task to do with leaves swirling in your face that have been blown from clear across town!)

3. The draft coming through our kitchen "air conditioner" which is really a fan stuck in a window, Dylan and I taped over with garbage bags. The poofed-out nature of the bags after our taping was complete testifies that there was in fact, a sizable draft.

4. Moaning could be heard outside the window for hours during the night. I guess the wind was pretty morose.

5. Constant beeping could be heard from next door, which Dylan fearlessly investigated (clad in his bathrobe). Aha! It was a mere wind-chime owned by the the cat-lady next door. (Cat lady didn't spot him.) (We think.)

6. Predicting that wind force would escalate, I wisely removed my wild bird-feeder from its hanging place in the tree out front. I was worried I'd lose all the seed while it rocked in the wind. [Have a better day-- feed a winter finch!]

7. I'm still picking snarls out of my hair from all of the "wind blown" allure it received. Good grief, Charlie Brown.

Banks of the River Jordan

Caitlin, Whitney, and Amie.

As you can see, the Jordan River today hardly resembles water at all. At least, not where I saw it. My friend Amber and I sang altered renditions of Simon & Garfunkel songs on our way home from this field trip: "the Jordan river ain't chilly nor wide... yes he did, yes he did... I've got a home on the other siiiiide... it brought joy joy joy" but I guess you have to know the song to get the point of what I'm saying-- oh whatever, just forget it. (Except you, Mom. You should figure that out. It's "You Can Tell the World," yeah?) Neither chilly, nor wide. Quite muddy though.

The tamarisk trees are quite lovely, though.

Cathédrale Saint-Louis de Versailles

Isn't it magnificent? I'd love to see the Saint-Louis cathedral in Versailles. Under the direction of architect Jules Hardouin-Mansart de Sargonne (chief architect of Louis XIV-- he pretty much designed everything significant in Versailles), construction began in 1743 and was completed in 1766. The cathedral is a national monument of France.

The organ inside has an exceptionally grand display, but what captures my special attention is the rather splendid clock out front.

Frosting Makes A Great Impression

Mmmm. There's not an ear in there, is there?

No Really, It's Cake.

More, "I can't believe it's not plastic!" AKA, way too much fun with gum paste.

Oh yeah-- and I had a fabulous honeymoon.

And if you're thinking that Dylan and I couldn't have possibly seen this stuff...



No, no-- we actually did.



Thanks for the trip, Dylan. It rocked.

First Day of School. Again.

I've now switched my major (Ancient Near Eastern Studies) with my minor (History), which means that I'll now major in History with an ANES minor. By doing so, I'll save myself 16 months of school by graduating a year and a half earlier than I would have. Before switching, that is.

I know, I know, I'm diabolical. Graduating faster? How ingenious.

Thank you, Dylan

One of my favorite drawings of all time, the sign reads "unfair to frogs."

Most of you know me really well. I therefore apologize if you've been around me when I'm at the end of my rope: exhibiting signs of desperation, emotion, panic, and a short temper. I've been in this state near constantly for three weeks (starting the day after Thanksgiving when I broke down into premonition-tears of knowing exactly what I was going to have to go through during my folk dance Christmas concert, moving into our house, and trying to still go to classes let alone do my homework at the same time).

Poor Dylan. He's had to do all that too, but he also had to deal with a fiancee who couldn't breathe for coughing, who could hardly walk on an injured leg, who was breaking emotionally with the thought of never with performing again, and who refused to do necessary things like homework because it was just too much to handle. He's had to work so hard physically to get through a week-long dance concert himself, and even found the energy to help me too.

I've been leaning on Dylan so heavily and am astonished that he's not only let me, but that he keeps asking what more he can do. I adore him, and have the hardest time leaving his side. Most other guys, I think, would have felt smothered by me a long time ago. Somehow Dylan doesn't mind me hounding his steps. I really do stick to him like glue; for the simple reason that when I'm with him I feel like my world is perfect, and not like it's cracking to bits.

I can't believe he's still here. Exposed to the nightmare I've been going through, aren't people supposed to take cover, or run away? He's still here. With me! I am so blessed to have him.

My fiance is brilliant. He works so hard, and has a genius for so many things I have no gift for understanding. He is more diligent than any person I have ever met, always doing the right thing and on the right schedule. Dylan amazes me with this, partially because I am feebly weak in that area. He is patient, he is understanding, giving, and full of light. He makes me laugh, he quotes movies at exactly the right time to save me from despair, and he's still sticking around to marry me.

Thank you, Dylan. Thank you! Thank you because "leaves are crunchy," because "we need to find a new activity," because "it just popped right into my frond!" and because you drove me to Target on BlackFriday at 5am so that we could get a TV. Thank you for making me dinner, for being so nice to my roommates, for walking me home when it's 2 degrees outside, and for wearing that white suit jacket to big band night. Thanks for carrying me up stairs and down hallways when I couldn't move on my own. Thanks for reading me proto-Slavonic literature, and thanks for loving mushrooms, raz-cran, and those frozen bread rolls. Thanks for being the good man you are, for doing everything you're supposed to, and most of all,

Thanks for asking me to marry you.

Drive Away

If I could do anything today, I'd get a car with a full tank of gas and drive away-- hop the freeway and follow the sun west.


If I could do anything today, I'd fill a container with birdseed and converse with the finches.


If I could do anything today, I'd curl up with a good book. Or five.

"Meanwhile, I'm Still Here."

I'm still alive! Posting is evidence. While I'm letting you know that I still exist, take a look at my latest two inspirations of cake decor:



Props to anyone who gets the quote.

To Make A Cake

I've long fantacized about making my own wedding cake. This one (that I'm wanting to make) would not be too complicated, and would taste absolutely divine. Not to mention the fact that making it myself would save me $300, and I already have all of the ingredients, including the 15 bags of frozen raspberries needed for the filling. 

What do you think I should do? Are you of the opinion that a bride making her own wedding cake will just be a disaster, too stressful, etc? Or do you think it could turn out all right?

Also, I hate the "let's poke flowers into a cake to make it look more elegant for their wedding" philosophy. If you're not going to eat it, don't put it on the cake.  I love that this one is garnished with white and red raspberries. Not only is it elegant, but just one glance is enough to make you ache to taste it. Right? "Of course right."

FOR RENT

Dylan and I are renting our first home today! 

Maybe I will dress like her when I sign the contract. 

Holiday Goodness!

Restoration Hardware is my latest company to drool over. Sorry, Martha. Get this-- vintage handblown Christmas tree ornaments. Geez! They're even prettier in color. My mom will love the Victorian-ness of all the holiday decor and the trunk collection. Personally, I'm swooning over the garlands and wreaths.