{word nerd}

Just another example of my nerdiness:

Paul hands Kristin a wedding invitation that arrived in the mail. Kristin grabs it excitedly, taking in the typed name and address on the front. She exclaims, "Oooo, Scriptina! That's my favorite fancy font." Paul laughs at Kristin's proclamation and scoffs at her assertion that she can recognize a slew of fonts. Paul then holds up another envelope that came in mail, "Okay, fine then. What's this one?" Kristin eyes it briefly, pauses for a moment, and says, assuredly, "Broadway."

Later that night Kristin proceeds to engage Paul in a rather passionate conversation about dashes and semi-colons.

What can I say? I love words.

{fish sticks}

Paul and I passed by the Big Boy (yes, the Big Boy) restaurant the other day and he commented that we still hadn’t been to one together. Lovers of all things junk food, it was surprising we hadn't been there yet. Then I commented that, actually, I hadn't been to a Big Boy in 20 years, since they closed the one in Orange County that long ago. Which led to a big reminiscing session about my eating habits as a child. Eating out is one of my favorite activities now, but Little Kristin didn't really enjoy the task, except when we went out for breakfast (french toast and hot chocolate with whip cream...yum!) or to get hot fudge sundaes. In fact, the odd-ball child that I was, the only thing I really liked to eat at restaurants--Coco's in particular and fast food excluded--were fish sticks with tartar sauce. No I didn't go for normal kid-friendly foods like chicken fingers, pizza, hot dogs or macaroni and cheese (I hated those things, in fact), no, I went for deep-fried seafood. Which is ironic because I hate seafood. Just kind of funny to remember (but not that surprising for Paul to learn, considering how familiar he is with all my “food rules”). For the record, pizza, hot dogs and chicken fingers are some of my favorite food nowadays. But I still enjoy a good plate of fish and chips, too, along with all sorts of fatty fried goodness....mmm...

{PSA: best underwear ever!}

Warning: This post contains “girl talk” and men should avert their eyes.

I’m pretty sure this post borders on the side of too much information, but I feel it is my civic duty to report the facts. To start, let me state for the record that I am not and never have been a fan of thong panties. I have never understand how anyone could stand having a thin strip of cloth up their bum all day long. I understand that it saves people from embarrassing panty lines, but I just don’t buy that claim the thongs are comfortable. Needless to say, I have been on the eternal search for the perfect pair of underwear—a girl short that is thin enough to remain hidden under clothes. A pair that doesn’t ride up and down and all around town. A low-ride bikini that’s both practical and pretty. Yeah, it’s been a long search.

Until now.

A recent trip to GapBody found me face-to-face with the holy grail of underwear: the ultra low lacy dotted girl short. Unlike other undies from the Gap (and elsewhere) the thin lacy trim doesn’t reveal panty lines, plus—and this is the best part—they don’t ride up. Not ever. They look too small to cover even the firmest, tiniest of behinds, but they stay put all day long no matter what you do. The mesh-like lace is deceptively soft and smooth against the skin. And the adorable dot (in eight feminine hues) makes this pair pretty to boot.

So, go--GO!--right now to GapBody to buy yourself many, many pairs. (And quick…they’re on sale at gap.com right now!)

{oops}

In the midst of chatting with officemates, flipping through magazines, sharing my wedding album, learning to knit, catching up on blogs, finding my dream kitchen, filing my nails, making scrapbook pages, and visiting the vending machines. . .I forgot to get any work done.

Oh well. Monday is another week.

Have a great weekend everyone!

xxxx

{love ya!}

{masquerading as parents}

We spent the weekend practicing to be parents with our one niece-and-nephew set. (No one get any ideas...we promised the kids a "fun day" as a Christmas present and had to hold up our end of the bargain. But we couldn't ignore the fact that we are actually old enough to be A and E's parents and it kind of gave us a glimpse into what parenthood would be like) A and E came over Friday night and we happily dropped them off at their parents' on Saturday. Okay, not that happily. It was a really fun time and A and E are super fun, sweet kids and totally adorable. I love that they are homebodies, perfectly content to watch TV, play fort, and visit barbie.com. [Our most favorite quote of the weekend was E (who is barely six) saying she wasn't all that into princesses and royalty. When we asked what she was into she replied, "Greek mythology."] By the close of Saturday, Paul and I were seriously exhausted, although we were exhausted before the weekend even started so it wasn't entirely A and E's fault. I spent many a moment thinking that I am not the sort made for motherhood. I also spent much of Saturday behind the camera, snapping way too many photos and making everyone stop every five minutes to pose--these were the moments where I thought perhaps I am cut out to be a mom. Here are some of the photos from the weekend.

Atop the Carew Tower, the tallest building in Cincinnati; pretty awesome view.


Waiting for the pool to open; I love E's face!


The only photo with me in it:


Smiles after swimming in the wading pool downtown.


E doing her impression of a fountain.

{california dreamin'}

Made this for work (of course) and thought it would be appropriate to share here:

{how to flip a mattress in 10 easy steps}

Paul and I bought this awesome mattress at the Original Mattress Factory last summer. The Mattress Factory diligently emails us every three months to remind us to flip our mattress (Sidenote: the Mattress Factory does not sell one-sided (i.e., unflippable) mattresses because, as they put, with a two-sided mattress you really get double the mattress life.) Every three month we diligently begin the ordeal that is flipping our king-size mattress.

I stop here to ask: Has anyone actually tried flipping their awesome king-size mattress? I’d be curious to hear about it. Not something the faint of heart should take part in. That thing is heavy!! My weakling arms can barely lift up the one corner I’m supposed to hold for Paul.

But anyway, here’s how the process goes should you want to try it: First, you must conduct careful preparation for the task. (1) Strip the bed sheets and the mattress pad. Then quickly decide if you’re going to wash the mattress pad while you have it off the bed. (The answer is usually no.) (2) Next comes the logistical analysis. Which way are you going to flip the mattress? Side to side? Front to back? And after deciding which way it will be flipped, how will you actually flip it? (3) Remove various valuables from the surrounding area (you will thank me later!) especially wall hangings, candle holders, and lamps. (4) Now you can begin the actual flipping process. First, pull the mattress by the handles and begin sliding it off the box spring. Stop. Switch sides with your partner. (5) Push up the mattress so it leans precariously against the window. Cringe as your curtains are nearly torn down. Cry out as the wall sconces almost meet their demise. Then switch sides again. (6) Bend your stiff body way down and attempt to pick up the bottom corners of the mattress. Cringe. Stop. Think, “Darn you, Ultra-Plush!” Tell yourself you’re too weak for this job. Switch sides. Have your partner lift his corner onto the box spring. Switch sides. Have him lift the other side. (7) Now your mattress should be about two feet onto the box spring. Begin pushing the mattress onto the box spring. Watch as instead the bedframe, with wheels on a hard wood floor, slides across the room crashing into the opposite wall. Think, “Oh well, at least we don’t have to deal with the sliding anymore.” Lift up another corner. Wonder how sore your back will be in the morning. Argue a little. Switch sides. (8) Repeat step 7 until you find the mattress in place. (9) Push the bedframe back into position. Then replace all the items that have been removed. (10) Pray that the next three months go by really slowly.

{no slacker}

I came home from work after a stressful day, totally exhausted. Paul is in the office writing a 10-page paper due tomorrow (which is a whole other story) so I'm just sitting here doing nothing. Well, doing nothing and taking a bunch of quizzes on Tickle. Here are some of my results:

Kristin, your pop culture IQ is 75, and you know the most about Fashion and Style

Kristin, you're Dr. Meredith Grey

Kristin, your room tells us you're Modern

Kristin, when it comes to email, you're a One-liner

Kristin, your TV family is the Huxtables!

Kristin, your body's telling you to Exercise More

Kristin, you're no slacker, you just put up a front. You’ve struck that balance between slacking off and keeping busy.

{age of discovery}

Marriage Log: Day 234

Kristin discovers that, despite initial appearances, Paul’s head is much larger than hers.

Just one those many amusing discoveries—and subsequent discussions—that come about while brushing your teeth together.

{double gross!}

I thought the cicada “invasion” was basically a crock—even with the giant bugs “fluttering” randomly about earlier this week. Well, it is a crock—in most of the city. It's not a crock, however, at all three entrances to our work building, where the entire international cicada population appears to have taken up residence.

The picture to the right--of the wall outside work’s front door--really doesn’t do the disgust justice. As my coworker put, “I’m taking a leave of absence until the cicadas leave.” To get inside (and out of) the building, you have to brace swarms of giant flying bugs and a blanket of crunchy cicadas carcasses (and if you get in before 8am like I do, you have to wait in it all for your electronic key to finally unlock the doors.)

Like we really need less motivation to come to work.

Yesterday, one my coworkers and I needed to bring a few boxes over to the off-site photo studio (which, although only 1.5 miles away, ended up having zero cidads). Fully expecting the swarm outside our building, we braced ourselves, and despite the huge boxes we were dragging, made a fast run for my car. But it's kind of hard to really escape the throng. The worst part of it was, we didn’t want let the cicadas inside the car, so we tried to haul the boxes into the backseat as fast as we could—which really wasn’t fast enough for flying cicadas. One ran into my head while I bent into the backseat. I freaked out and screamed and tossed the box, dumping all sorts of scrapbook paraphernalia all over the car. Grrrr.

Somehow we managed to get four boxes and ourselves inside the car and out of the parking lot without any cidadas hitching a ride. But other cowokers have not been so lucky. One ended up with a cicada in her knitting bag and on another car ride found one on her seatbelt. A girl near my cubicle found one on her purse handle while typing at her keyboard. Major freaking out ensued.

Apparently guys aren’t alarmed with the situation like we women are. They’re like, “Hello, they don’t bite.” It’s still distressing. Who likes to find a two-inch critter with orange-colored bug eyes in their handbag? The guys may make fun of us, but at least we borrow them for moral support while walking to our cars.


EDITED ON JUNE 17: No worries, the cicadas are almost gone now...just a few here and there, but no traumatizing incidences.

{gross!}

I’m pretty used to living in Ohio by now. In fact, most of the time, my daily life doesn’t even seem that different than life in California: By day, I edit books and shop at the LOFT; by night, I watch tv and eat ice cream. I make cards, get treats at Starbucks, hang out at local parks (although ours are free), dine at smoke-free restaurants . I even experience the occasional earthquake.

But then there are the times that the fact of my Cincinnati life smacks me right in the face: like dealing with insanely low speed limits, violent thunderstorms, and tornado watches (for the record, we haven’t had any actual tornadoes since I’ve been here). And now, cicadas.

The cicada "invasion” is an entirely new experience for me—and not a pleasant one I might add. In May, I heard rumors of the cicadas' impending invasion. Heard stories of the one I escaped four years ago. I waited and watched for the cicadas. And they did not come.

Until now.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate—they’ve been strumming their tune for a week or so now in spots around the city. I noticed the hum when I left work each day. But I had yet to see the so-called “invasion.” That was last week. Today is a whole other story.

Let me stop here and explain a little bit about cicadas. According to Wikipedia, “After mating, the female cuts slits into the bark of a twig, and into these she deposits her eggs. She may do so repeatedly, until she has laid several hundred eggs. When the eggs hatch, the newborn nymphs drop to the ground, where they burrow. … Some species have much longer life cycles … a 17- or occasionally 13-year life cycle.” This explains why Ohio experienced an invasion in 2004 and again this year. Wikipedia continues, “…they construct an exit tunnel to the surface and emerge. They then molt on a nearby plant for the last time and emerge as adults. The abandoned skins remain, still clinging to the bark of trees.” "Brood XIV" of the cicadas recently hit Southwestern Ohio.

So, I leave work today to the deafening cicada rhythm. Really, I could have used a pair of earplugs. I could hear the ebb of flow of their tune even as I drove with the radio blasting. But that’s not even the worst of it. As you drive—or heaven forbid, walk—you see cicadas flipping through the air. But not like you see a bird soar. Imagine how the dried leaves swoosh quickly, up, up,down, quickly swirling, several at a time as autumn sets in. Yeah, it’s like that, but with giant, ugly flying bugs. Gross! And if they’re not flying their silent, lifeless carcasses are littering the roads—and car grills. Double gross!! I’m assured that cicadas are “harmless” but I really don’t take kindly to the idea of any critter larger than pinhead bonking me in the head without my permission.

Fortunately, the cicadas where we live haven’t yet hatched so I’m enjoying a cicada-free zone at home. But I’ll beware.

{mexican queen}

I have this talent of creating pretty tasty dinners just by throwing things together. Of course, I make meatloaf and lasagna every now and again, but mostly I try to avoid using recipes (all that darn measuring!), plus I rarely plan ahead. So, on my cooking days I usually find myself going through the fridge and cupboards searching for items that would constitute something meal-like, relying on experimentation and images left over from watching Mom cook to come up with something edible. I do make some blunders; for example, turkeyloaf is not so good. But usually I'm pretty successful.

Then there are the days like today when I make something Mexi-tastic! After last week's burritos and today's taco salad, both made up from lack of proper ingredients, Paul has determined that I am the Mexican Queen. Not that I have a lot of competition...have you tasted the Mexican food in Cincinnati? Anyway, here's what I threw together today to make awesome--and fairly healthy--taco salad.



Ingredients:
Crispy lettuce (I used Romaine, but you could also use iceberg)
Red and green peppers
1 can corn (or frozen corn)
1 can pinto beans, drained and rinsed
tomato
shredded cheddar cheese
onions (to taste--about 1/4-1/2 cup chopped)
1 pound ground meat (I used 99% fat free turkey, but you could use beef or 80% turkey, or even chicken)
1 package enchilada seasoning or taco seasoning
1/4 cup water
Mild, finely chopped fresh salsa (I got mine at Trader Joes)
sour cream (I used regular, not low fat)
olive oil

Directions:
Brown your chopped onions in a skillet, for a few minutes. Then leave them in the pan and brown your meat. When that's done, drain any fat as needed and leave in pan. Then add 1/4 cup water and package of seasoning. Mix throughly. Set aside.

In a small bowl, mix some salsa, sour cream, and olive oil until it has a dressing-like consistency and tastes good.

Mixing everything but the dressing in a big, fat bowl.

Serve, and bask in the glory of your husband's praise.

{s-l-o-w}

It’s the Friday before Memorial Day and the week after an 11-day break from work. Could this day get an slower? I feel I’ve been sitting here (reading blogs and generally avoiding doing any work, but still...) for eternity. On the upside, we got new vending machines at work while I was on vacation. I went down yesterday to check out the selection and look what I found:



Yippee!! They also have drumsticks (the ice cream kind not the chicken kind) and turtle pies. But, on the downside, dang!, I’m going to fat this summer!

{italy recap}

Well, I suppose my penance for enjoying a deliciously beautiful trip to Italy is taking the time to blog about it. So here it is, my Italy recap.

Our itinerary commenced in Rome, giving us one whirlwind afternoon at all the top tourist locations: Spanish steps, Trevi Fountain, the Roman forums, and Colosseum among other things. I was totally enamored with the view of the Colosseum, taking photos from every angle. The dichotomy and juxtaposition of ancient and modern in that area of the city is an amazing sight. I left not so much a fan of Rome, but I think if we had to time to really get to know it I would have come to really enjoy the city.

Obviously, the Colosseum

Our itinerary took us on to the small town of Assisi, home of St. Francis, the next day. As we wheeled our suitcases up the road to our hotel, getting our first real peeks of the town and breathing a sigh of relief having left the crowds of Rome behind us, I thought, "Now, this is what I dreamed Italy would be like." Assisi is a quintessential Italian town with pinkish stone buildings lined up along cobblestone roads. Laundry flaps in the wind, drying on lines and the whole city offers view of Umbria below. And, unlike Rome, breaking out the Italian-English dictionary is often required. Sure, Assisi, as a destination for Catholic pilgrimage, is teeming with tourists--but they're all Italian, making all our experiences "authentic."

View of the hilltop fort, from Assisi


Basilica of St. Francis

After a morning stroll through the quiet streets of Assisi, and stop for a delicious cappucino, we took off for nearby Perguia to pick up our rental car. Navigating the Italian highways was a breeze; navigating the narrow, hilly, one-way, streets of our next stop--Montepulciano--not so much. Montepulciano is a small town known for a wine called Vino Nobile. The Nobile did not disappoint, and we picked up two bottles after a day of wandering streets and tasting wine in local shops. My favorite meal of the trip--Tuscan wine, a gaint ravioli stuffed with ricotta and mushroom truffles, followed by the most fabulous tiramisu ever--preceded a favorite afternoon strolling up and down the cobblestone roads, sans map, peeking in the hilltop town's churches and taking in the breathtaking panromic view of the Tuscan countryside.

View from Montepulciano

After two days in the country and a bit of an adventure trying to locate the Hertz rental, the train dropped us of in the center of Florence. Expecting something more along the lines of Montepulciano, only bigger, I was instantly overwhelmed and taken aback by the bustling, noisy, crowded, dirty city that greeted me. Plus, those darn Americans were everywhere! I warmed up to Florence a little bit after crossing the Arno River and leaving some of the crowds behind, and also discovering the best gelato of the entire trip. My most enjoyable parts of Florence always seemed to be the places that overlooked it all, including Boboli Gardens--a giant park, filled with grass, and trees, and quiet. Our afternoon trip to Fiesole, a hilltop town just outside of Florence (and birthplace of my new leather purse), was also a highlight of the trip, with a tiny park offering a breathtaking, panoramic overlook of the city.

The Duomo; the dome is in the background

To sum up the trip: It was a good time, with highs and lows of course, laughter and exhaustion, relaxation and stress, blisters and delicious mouthfuls of food. After having been to so many other wonderful places in Europe that I will forever love, I can't say Italy is my favorite (Paris has stolen my heart, and won't give it back), but it was a nice time away and fun to explore a new place.

And if you're interested in more, Paul has promised to detail the trip here: http://paulandkristingotoitaly.blogspot.com/

Ciao!

{roman holiday}

I'll be taking a couple weeks off from the blog. Paul and I are taking a time out from life and seeking rest and pleasure in the most perfect of places...Italy! We'll be making quick visits to Rome and Assisi, then settling into our stay in Tuscany (home of fabulous wine and Renaissance art). Excited would be a bit of an understatement for Paul, who's never been overseas, and I'm looking forward to a nice vacation and a new country to see.

Stay tuned for photos and stories of our adventures in a couple of weeks!

{making my bed and lying in it}

In case you haven't been keeping track, Paul and I have been married for almost seven months. That means that I have also been living in my house for seven months. Well, I finally finished a room. The bedroom, when it's clean, is now a haven I've dubbed "modern organic." Paul, an outdoor guy, loves the green and the natural ("organic") elements, and I love the calm and contemporary style:





To make a long story short, this room--actually the easiest to finish--involved some decorating drama. We painted the walls a rich mocha color way back last summer. After living in the room for a while with all the chocolate brown pillows and linens and honey-colored floors and no curtains, I decided the room was too dark. I was going for cozy but was left with cool and cave-like. So I set out to warm up with room with color, specifically a nice cool blue to go with the duvet cover we got as a wedding gift. What an exasperating process! The blue on that comfortor was THE most impossible color to match--somewhere between lilac and sky and only to be found at Restoration Hardware and, oh, too bad the sheets that match are $200. Aargh! So then I sad "forget it!" and sought out totally different colors like these:



I made a pair of curtains, found a really good deal on some throw pillows and accessories and thought I could call the room done. Yeah right. The colors, while gorgeous, seemed disjointed with the rest of the white and blue in the room and disconnected from the rest of the house, which is green (including the wall of the room that I can see while I'm sitting in bed). But after making a whole set of curtains I just couldn't justify changing schemes. But I also couldn't rest. I'm not a perfectionist by any means, but I can be a little (okay, a lot) obsessive when it comes to home decor. Anyway, I was perusing HomeGoods and found a gorgeous sheet set for $35. Hmmmm, these would make great curtains...



The wheel started churning and I ended up with a new room in time for my parents' arrival last weekend. So I threw a little money down the drain; totally worth it! The new room is a calming oasis. And with cozy white sheets, we feel like were vacationing in a hotel every night.

-----

P.S. I'm a little sad about the discarded curtains (they're really cute!) ...if anyone wants them (for FREE!) let me know. They're made with the brown/magenta/blue/red fabric above.

{quilt}

Just have to share the beautiful Amy Butler quilt my mom made for me:



Thanks, Mom! And awesome, work!

{the apple doesn't fall far}

My parents visited us last weekend. A little dose of home was just what I needed. Seeing family is really rejuvenating (and also exhausting). As fun as the weekend was--with really good weather, lots of delicious food, and driving tours of the city--I'm glad to have my bed and my space back. I'm sure Mom is too. Anyway, as is usually the case, we came out of the weekend with only one picture, which doesn't even have my mom in it. But it's such a funny picture I have to share. You may recall previous posts about my similarities to my dad. This just illustrates it perfectly:



And, no, this photo was not staged. We both really were sitting on the sofa, laptops running with tv shows, arms folded, headphones in ear. (I should note that the similarities ended there: I was watching a sitcom while I'm pretty sure Dad was watching something sci-fi). Mom and Paul got a kick out of the scene and had to snap a shot.

{memo}

To: Californians
From: Kristin
Re: Spring

Sure, you have your year-round summers, your constant sun, your beaches, and decent Mexican food. But you know what you don't have?

Spring.

Spring, really, is amazing. A-maze-ing. You can't appreciate or understand the beauty and glory that is spring unless you've lived it--and unless you've first lived through winter. Maybe the Ohioans don't appreciate it as much as I do--me, a Californiohian of sorts--having experienced it so many times, but it never ceases to enchant me (so far). Let me briefly describe how it goes: Just as you're about to groan from the cold, and the bleakness--of none, zero, not a color in sight--and the gray mood for the hundredth time, you notice the thin shoots of green that have popped up. You wait, every day saying, "Maybe the daffodils will come up today," again. And then they do. Then all of sudden you notice the streets are lined with a breathtaking view of trees full of pink or white blooms. And you bask in the delight of it. Then the tulips come out. Then the dogwoods get their buds. And on and on. It's a fast-paced, don't-blink-or-you'll-miss-it time when every day is filled with wonder as your eyes feast on something new. And you see your gray world is suddenly a rainbow.

In a small effort to share this season with you, here's a photo of some of the blooms in our yard: