October 12 of 12

Chai cookies and decaf = a good way to start the day


In love with this hand cream. I say it should be renamed Katniss, however, because when I put it on I want to kick ass and not brood. I understand there are other people named Bella and that it is also merely an adjective, but I don't think it fits a grapefruit and black pepper scent.

They're getting ready for Dia de los Muertos altars at work, so paper flowers are plentiful.

Now reading

The boy's costume gathering is near completion. Then comes the tailoring.

19 more weeks? If you say so.

Brand spankin' new SolarWing cover parking.

Indulging his daily ritual of saying goodbye to his tree at Nana's.


Get outta here, crows!

So, I made dinner and just as I was ready to serve, Ya Ya showed up with Peter Piper.

No one's gonna save you from the beast about to strike.

...and because I love my pumpkins so much.


Pumpkin Baby Cakes

Pumpkin Baby Cakes

Not just a sugary term of endearment, but perhaps the most amazing recipe to come to me in the recent past. Ready for it?

1 box cake mix (I used yellow)
1 can pumpkin

Mix. Fill bake cups and bake at 350 for 20-25 min. Yield about 16 cupcakes.


I mean, enjoy, obviously, but truthfully you won’t have to be told that once these babies start mixing up and then baking. They smell like heaven and taste like it, too. They are moist and easy and you have absolutely no reason not to make them rightthissecond.

“Recipe” from Sweet Verbena and they got it from Big Red Kitchen, but I am sure it was thought up by angels.

Heel the World

Women Walking Across the Street Wearing Spike Heels by James Burke

I work at a public library so the people I run into on a daily basis are by no means there to impress anybody. They’re there to pick up the copy of The Hunger Games that they waited two months for and be on their way. 


So, I was especially taken aback today when I saw a ridiculous girl in ridiculous shoes walking up the cobblestone, inclined breezeway that makes up our building’s entrance. Trudging uphill. Like a horse who’s seen better days. Often, women like this make me narrow my eyes in envy and I hate them for being able to masterfully pull off a pencil skirt and tucked-in blouse. This one, however, I smugly scoffed at. Partly because the August heat can make me mean-spirited and partly because pencil skirts and tucked-in blouses just don’t look all that good when they’re hunched over as a symptom of shoes that, let’s be honest, weren’t meant for walking on in real life. Stilettos in the library. Stop it right now.


I see her type other places, too. Downtown, at corners, standing with a group of her peers.  Others like her. Uptight, coffee in hand, prayer on lips. Men laughing. Men whose sensible business shoes have actually managed to get more comfortable in this, the modern workforce. Insoles have been invented. Breathing technology has been added to leather. Shock resistance to soles. If only this were true for the standard issue shoe for stylish women professionals these days.

Women entered the workforce in droves in the 80s, complete with sensible pumps (which we still complained about) and tennis shoes in our bags. Sure, these sneakers were horrifying when paired with pantyhose and dress suits, but we knew that it was just craziness to walk around all day in heels.  The 90s were a lost age of flip flops, Dr. Martens and clogs. Then, something went amiss in the past decade with professional wear for young women and the heel not only returned, but with a vengeance. Like an evil twin version of itself. With fangs that, instead of ferociously facing out, attack from the inside onto the wearer.


Sure, some women can pull off the 16-hour stiletto wear (I mean, I personally think they’re lying to themselves and us all) and to them, I tip my hat. To the others ready to give up the charade, I have a plea.


I beg you now, corner girls clutching your lattes for dear life: simply give the heels a rest. I promise your ensemble will look just as thrilling with a lesser heel. A wedge. A (silence, please) flat. We’ve come this far. Do not hold us back because of the cute factor. Yes, everything you’ve learned on tv and in fashion magazines says I’m wrong and I was only half serious when I promised you’ll look as amazing as ever without your heels, but this next point you cannot argue with. WHO honestly CARES?  Are you really going to lose friends over your shoe choices? No. What about your work image? Your boss will probably appreciate a more focused, less pain-ridden employee. There are just so many other ways to make yourself look and feel fabulous that don’t require physical pain. I like red lipstick. I implore you to discover your own or else risk looking like a giraffe recently shot by a tranquilizer gun.  Who am I to give this advice? I’m a 5’2” gal that probably should be wearing heels to elongate my form and all that nonsense, but I don’t. Because it’s insane. Poke fun all you want, but you can ask anyone, as much as I complain about everything, I’ve never complained about my feet hurting.

Image courtesy of Art.com

August 12 of 12

Good morning, sun.


The Giant Coffee cake stand display makes me happy.




Carolina's for lunch. Mmm. Mmm. Mmm.


Rustic scene in downtown Phoenix.


Me's. Sigh.


Visiting the new baby and snapping a photo of his adorable crib sheet.

Freshly traded book already on the shelf. I'm proud for some reason.


Boys at night.

New scarf. Reminds me of autumn. I'm already there.


We found Disney karaoke on On Demand.

Belly photo outtake. That's right, ya'll. Chavez, party of 3 plus one. Coming February 2012. 🙂

July 12 of 12

Morning dash. These sandals got retired today. No support. They suck at being shoes.

I guess my neighbor's tree split in half over night?


Leftovers from a training I did. Stashed them in a drawer to calm my fear of dying of dehydration.

Fast food toys from when the people ignored my request for toddler-safe toys.

I'm on a lentils and Greek yogurt kick.

Our produce delivery is all about the plums and pluots these days.

Plums and pluots stain.

Pit stop at one of my favorite local boutiques, Purple Lizard. Mama needs a new Mexican oil cloth coupon wallet.

Bad mom. Dad's at All-Star game eating badly, so we will follow suit. *they gave me the toddler toy this time.

Someone learned how to turn pages on an eBook (and his life is forever changed).

Empty box to be exchanged for an overnight delivery of what I can only imagine to be more fruit that'll stain my clothes.

April 12 of 12

Hella early, but very welcomed.

Greeny delivery.


New Cath Kidston tea platter set.

Hail damage = new roof.

Quick lipstick application before tv spot. My kiss is crooked.

I'm unbelievably excited about getting a free apple just for checking into Urban Grocery & Wine Bar on Foursquare. I'm still talking about it.

Patio weather.

On top of that party planning thing.

The print on one of my sister's blouses was just too rad not to share.

Hole pants freak the child out.

Bedtime book.

Waiter, There’s a Cookie in My Cookie

The Mt. Everest of cookies.

Remember when Madonna went to that awards show with Michael Jackson and the earth stood still because–oh, my God, were they dating? If so, could that union really work? Isn’t there a cap for how much awesome can exist in a couple? (The Jolie-Pitts answered that question by becoming progressively lamer over time.)

I was confronted with a similar feeling of exasperation when my dear friend FB-posted a recipe of a cookie that could only have been invented by the food demons that keep Paula Deen from dying of a heart attack (I mean, that lady’s vital!). The Oreo Stuffed Chocolate Chip Cookie.

What the what, you ask? Surely you’ve stuck bite-size Snickers in a sugar cookie before, right? Delicious. This, however, intrigued me to the point of action! (A tough feat for my lazy butt these days). Not only is it a cookie within the very same cookie entity, it’s a chocolate cookie within a chocolate cookie. I mean, come on. Don’t your teeth hurt just reading that?

So, after I purchased my second container of Double Stuf Oreos ever (I have absolutely NO idea where the first went!), I got to work.

(The recipe can be found at Picky Palate.)

The verdict? Amazing first bite. Second, pretty darn good. The third, you want to die. No amount of milk can better this situation. Also, they’re so substantial that you could easily use them as training discus…-es. Disci? (It’s discuses. I looked it up. Because I’m a librarian.)

I called my mom, the queen of unbelievable desserts and she suggested the mini Oreos for a regular, human-sized result.

I, myself, will never eat one of these again (it’s just all too much, as another very wise dear friend predicted) but I have been commissioned to make a ton for someone’s birthday this weekend. They will be smaller.

*Popcorn Marshmallow, I am not going to bring you any of these after all. I brought them to work to impose their sweetness on strangers. I love you too much to do this to you. (I’ll make you a batch of the smaller ones this weekend!)

What’s in My Bag?

Good. I was avoiding cleaning out my purse.

The Splendidly Imperfect Miss M gave me the inspiration for this and as I’ve been shopping for a new purse for a week now (it’s too big; bizarre things end up in there), I thought I could use the opportunity to weed. From the top left clockwise (messily), I present you the amazingly entertaining contents of my purse.Happy Tuesday.

  1. iPhone with purple case Greasy from baby fingers and scratched from baby lobbing, the case is in bad shape. The phone underneath seems to be just fine. For now. I mean, you can never really tell.
  2. Vera Bradley wallet in Folkloric I love my wallet. I love it so much I use it all the time. Stupid wallet.
  3. Pewter Target purse I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. Looking for a replacement but I’m missing the girl gene that can easily buy shoes and bags.
  4. Fekkai travel brush To tame my wild mane. Alas, I have so much hair that running a brush through it often means simply running a brush over the first layer of it. It’s a whole to-do.
  5. Trader Joe’s Dark Chocolate Espresso Nibs I bought these ages ago thinking I would always want these. I’m throwing them away.
  6. Day of the Dead coupon wallet I clip coupons now. It’s a mom thing. I have them paper-clipped into “Target,” “Safeway,” and “Other.” Don’t be jealous of these superinteresting details of my life.
  7. The Body Shop Coconut Body Butter Because I wash my hands three hundred times a day and I ain’t trying to be getting old hands. Plus, it smells like heaven.
  8. Earbuds My escape.
  9. Grafitti glasses They say “NO SOUL TO SELL” on the sides. I don’t know why. They look good from the front.
  10. 5 ponytail holders My greatest fear is that I will be caught without one of these and I will melt to death.
  11. Sharpie pen Best. Pen. Ever. Fully prepared to jot down important information, autographs and kill crosswords.
  12. Floss Dental hygiene, what what!
  13. My work ID The picture is horrendous and always reminds me of the awful bacon and pancakes breakfast the photographer was eating.
  14. Kleenex We were sick last week. I never used one of these tissues. That’s how you get over being sick. Add more unnecessary bulk to your already busting out purse and all will be healed.
  15. Dum Dums For good measure.
  16. Mexican oilcloth bag Holds my Sula Champagne Sugar perfume, my Victoria’s Secret lip gloss, my Neosporin, three sad Band-Aids (Transformers, Hello Kitty and camo), some hoop earrings, a mirror, and my Benefit Lipstick in Flirt Alert.
  17. H&M bracelet I used to wear this all the time but then the baby took a liking to it and it is now in hiding.
  18. Smith’s Rosebud Salve One of The Addictions.
  19. Orbit Wintermint gum Ya know, gum. It’s gum.
  20. Ibuprofen Okay, the end.

March 12 of 12

Good morning! This is a hot week for houseguests.

Someone on Etsy (Tuesday Mourning) made a print to commemorate my favorite Yo Gabba Gabba! song (performed by The Roots).

I'm going through a pretty hardcore cookbook-collecting phase right now.

You do me, I do you.

Today, my mom taught me how to eat a cupcake with less mess. Unwrap the treat, pull apart the bottom from the top, place bottom on top of frosting and you've got yourself a cupcake sandwich. My mother is ridiculously cute.

The night before, I finished It. Maybe I'll actually pay attention to that ever-mounting pile of cookbooks on the table.

Not before I visit the soon-to-be-closed Borders and add unnecessarily to the pile.


If my child begged for bubbles before...

Nothing says mom and sister time like the timeless shenanigans of the Brady/Horton/DiMera clans.

Suddenly my whole family was in the back yard looking at the alleged space station ascending into the heavens. My iPhone captured something twinkly and moving. I can't really tell you I was looking at the right thing.

Obsession alert: Cake pops.