BYOP

Last Tuesday was major. I was hit by a bus. Well, not me – but my car. And I was in the car. So yeah, me. I was hit by a bus. I checked out the Tim Burton Exhibit at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. And I hosted a pumpkin carving.

I hadn’t carved a pumpkin in as long as I can remember, and after picking up the most perfect, roundest, orangest pumpkin in sight I was super stoked. The party was BYOP, the P being for pumpkin obviously.  We loaded up on Dearly Beloved Forever Red Wine, found at Trader Joe’s prior to my incident with public transit, and it couldn’t have been more perfect for the occasion. The lovely Andi was sweet enough to bring spooky snacks resembling mummies. And after finding ourselves in the candy aisle at Target – a very dangerous place to be – Austin and I had, and still have, enough Halloween candy to feed every trick or treater in Los Angeles. But more importantly, our house looked fantastic.

Jars of candy corn sat in our front kitchen window. The window looked more like a crime scene complete with bloody hand prints and creepy crawly spiders. Those creepy crawly spiders also graced our dining room, and the spider webs that took over our doorway. But perhaps my favorite festive décor is found on our dining room table. Inspired after hours on pinterest, Austin and I headed to Home Depot. The gnarliest, knottiest fence post became our table runner, the perfect centerpiece for melted candles of all sizes, darling miniature pumpkins, and spiders, of course. The coolest thing about this table runner was how it transformed over the course of the spooky holiday – candles melting at different speeds, wax dripping and running every which way, candles burning out entirely making room for new. I love it even more now than I did days ago. So much so that it still graces our table. That, and I just don’t really feel like cleaning up quite yet. And besides, what screams holiday more than candy corn and plastic spiders? Nothing.

Car Accident

I wasn’t kidding earlier. I was involved in a car accident – with a metro bus. And by involved in, I mean the victim of. Obviously. I used to think I needed a blog to document all of the weird things that happen to me. For a while there, it was constant. Then I started a blog, and it seemed as though the weirdness subsided. In reality, I think I just grew accustomed to it. But you guys, this one is for real. This is how it went down.

Don’t ask me what I’m doing, because I won’t be able to give you a very direct answer, but I’m always very busy. This Tuesday was no exception. Leaving an early morning yoga practice, I had a bazillion and one things to do. I had planned to see the Tim Burton exhibit at the LACMA and I was hosting a pumpkin carving that evening. With a million things left to prepare, I headed to Trader Joe’s. Prior to Tuesday, I used to think frequent trips to Trader Joe’s was certainly reason enough for a prescription of Xanax, but now I say just avoid these packed aisles and parking lots at all costs. 

Pulling out of the parking lot, I was stopped at a red light waiting to turn left. Minding my own business. When then, out of nowhere, I saw it. The giant blue metro bus, mistakenly thought he could squeeze by me and make a right turn. In slow motion, laying on my horn, I watched in horror as the bus scrapped along side me, slicing off my side mirror and clipping the entire front right bumper of my poor car.

In shock, I pulled to the side, behind the bus and exchanged information with the driver. He thanked me for being so nice and understanding. I asked how I was supposed to act in such a situation and he said sometimes when this happens, people are so mean he has to wait on the bus. Sometimes when this happens. As in it happens. Ridiculous. Anyway. The worst part was waiting. Get this, if I left before his supervisor came to evaluate the damage, it would have been considered a hit and run on my part. With my patience wearing thin, I called 911 to report the accident. They explained the procedure and I told me I would in fact have to wait for the supervisor. I explained I had prior engagements at the LACMA and a party to prepare for but they were less understanding. Then I started to cry. Shortly after, two sheriffs arrived and a report was filed. With no supervisor in sight, an hour and a half later, they took my statement and allowed me to go.

But don’t worry, you guys. I’m fine. I made it to Tim Burton, later than expected, but I made it. And I drowned my sorrows in cheap wine while my friends and I carved pumpkins later that night. My car is in the shop, but he’ll be okay too. And in the mean time, I’m driving a sweet gold Dodge Avenger. I know. I wish I was kidding, too. That's it on the left. Okay, so maybe mine doesn't have those rims. And it's gold. Maybe I’ll pose on the hood in a matching gold bikini and submit the photo to some kind of muscle car calendar. Or maybe not. But boy do I miss my little jetta. 

Tim Burton

I totally nerded out the other day.  Well, I got sideswiped by a metro bus, and then I totally nerded out. Seriously. But I’ll tell you about the whole getting sideswiped by a metro bus thing later. Unwilling to let an idiot bus driver who is unaware of the dimensions of his own vehicle ruin my Halloween spirit, I drove my banged up little car to check out the Tim Burton exhibit at the Los Angeles Country Museum of Art.

Confession. I had never been to the LACMA. Nor had I seen Nightmare Before Christmas. But I love Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. And Edward Scissorhands. And you guys, I love Tim Burton. Not as much as, say, Tim Burton loves Johnny Depp. But a lot. And with over 700 pieces featured in the exhibit, it was so cool to get a peak inside the mastermind that is Tim Burton. 

So cool that I even took notes, like a nerd, so I wouldn’t forget a single detail to share with you. You’re welcome.

Early sketches, projects that were never realized, iconic props and storyboards from some of the most major motion pictures filled the walls. It was a full spectrum body of work. Next to the wicked striped sleeves worn by Beetlejuice was a story outline written on a yellow legal notepad. The simple story thought needs to be two nice old fashioned people die, and when an awful family moves in, they try to get rid of them. Right there. In his own words. Written by the man himself. And then realized, brought to life, and represented in costume. Right there. In front of my own eyes.

And I just about died, and tried to touch, the suit Johnny Depp wore in Edward Scissorhands. Thank goodness the actual scissor hands were in a glass case. Character Profile: Edward is a robot. But by all appearances he is very human. Human except for his hands, long metal fingers that are razor sharp and resemble many pairs of large scissors… His hobbies are making ice sculptures, and playing the steel drums. Someday he hopes to vaction in the Caribbean Islands. Sounds kinda like his match.com profile or something. Cool, huh?

After snapping a picture of the scarecrow from Sleepy Hallow, getting in trouble for snapping a picture of the scarecrow from Sleepy Hallow, watching Bones – the music video Burton directed for The Killers, and saying goodbye to the melted figures reminiscent of Disney’s It’s a Small World from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I was out the door with the exhibit booklet I purchased from the gift store in hand. And then I got to the parking structure and remembered what had happened to my car. Such a bummer. 

Mr. Bones Pumpkin Patch

Are you guys ready for Halloween? I’m not. I don’t even have a costume. But I have a pumpkin. The most perfect, darling little pumpkin named Boo Radley. Obviously. Get it? Austin and I found him this past Sunday at Mr. Bones Pumpkin Patch. Super trendy, right? Just wait. We had lunch at Joan’s on Third and red velvet cupcakes at Magnolia Bakery too. I know.

On the quest for the brightest, roundest pumpkin we could find, we ventured out of the west side and over to Hollywood to Mr. Bones Pumpkin Patch. Okay, so we thought maybe we’d get lost in the hay bail maze only to find Heidi Klum or Gwen Stefani, and with swarms of paparazzi eagerly snapping away at the entrance, our odds looked good. But no such luck.

 I’m not mad about it though, I mean we did find Boo after all – after picking up and examining every pumpkin in the patch. Seriously. Because this is obviously serious business that takes time. We were in no way stalling in hopes that someone cool, like Jessica Alba who was there the next day, or Christina Aguilera who was there the day before, would bring their kids to pick out pumpkins. No way. Ughh. But it was a blast. Way better than picking one out of a bin in front of the grocery store. Opting out of face painting and the spooky slide, we headed home, with Boo buckled up for safety in the backseat. And I absolutely can’t wait to carve him. And eat way too much candy corn. And watch It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. Oh goodness, I just love Halloween. I’m getting more and more excited by the second.

That's me. Everyone was taking pictures with the pumpkins, so obviously I had to too. Who cares that most of those people were babies in pumpkin costumes hidden in the patch. Oh gaaawd. 

Chocolate Chip Pumpkin Cookies

It rained in Los Angeles the other day. Really. It rained long enough for me to think for a second it was Fall. Long enough for me to explore tasty autumnesque recipes with anything pumpkin in the title. Long enough for me to throw on a flannel, layer Frye boots and thick striped socks over my tights. Long enough for me to cruise the aisles of Whole Foods for the ingredients to make these bad boys. And then it stopped. But already in the pumpkin spice spirit, it didn’t matter.

Selecting these Non-Cakey, Chewy, Chocolate Chip Pumpkin Cookies, I couldn’t have been more thrilled. While I love pumpkin pie, muffins, breads, you name it – I, like the baker who shared this recipe with me, often times find them too spongy. This makes sense, as pumpkin is mostly water. Excited for chewy, not fluffy, pumpkin cookies, I preheated my oven and unloaded my groceries. It was here I encountered my first problem. Remember when I said pumpkins are mostly water? So for chewy, non-cakey, cookies this isn’t good. While I followed this logic, I hadn’t really thought through the process. Until I actually read the directions. And poured a can of pumpkin puree into a saucepan.  Reduced it.  Stirred it continuously. For FIFTY MINUTES. Turning it in to pumpkin bread crumbs. With an exhausted wrist and tendonitis of the elbow, I blended the crumbs in a food processor, making a pumpkin flour, if you will. Ugh. With the exception of the entirely predictable problem number two, setting me back three hours so the dough can chill, it was smooth sailing from there. With every appliance, bowl and measuring cup utilized, it looks like a pumpkin straight up exploded in my kitchen. But the cookies are delicious. Like whoa delicious. And if I can make them, anyone can. So have at it. Happy Fall, my little pumpkin pies. 

Recipe and image via The Knead for Speed

S'More Please

I’d like to wish my dear friend Heidi the most wonderful of birthdays. She turns twenty four today. In an attempt to catch her off guard, we secretly gathered two dozen of her closest friends for a surprise birthday party in San Clemente this past Friday. Her boyfriend, Scott, has an amazing set up on the beach, and did an amazing job coordinating everyone. A far cry from our days in Santa Barbara, when asking my opinion on which Volcom sweatshirt Heids would like best constituted putting thought in to her gift. Nice work, Scooter.

The party went off without a hitch. Yummy Italian take out. Ice chests of beer. An intense beer pong tournament. And S’MORES.  I don’t know what it is, but I have been on a serious s’mores kick. With summer slipping away, I’ve envisioned a final farewell with a beachside s’more send off. With the help of pinterest, my mild craving has turned in to a full blown obsession that seriously cannot be satiated. And you guys, s’mores are on another level. No longer a simple toasted marshmallow and chocolate square sandwiched between graham crackers, the combinations for flavor sensations are endless. Next time, I’m substituting a Reeces peanut butter cup for chocolate. Or adding a slice of banana. And nutella. Yeah, nutella.

Sticking with the tried and true, we toasted marshmallows – or charred as was my case – made a mess, and devoured the sticky treats with the best of company. But Heidi still needed a cake with candles to blow out, and I was happy to lend my expertise. Layering milk chocolate brownies with marshmallow fluff and crumbled graham crackers, the s’mores inspired cake photographed beautifully. And was hard as rock. Apparently marshmallows aren’t the only thing I like to burn. But if you’re able to properly execute boxed brownies without turning them to brick, maybe you should try this cake. I mean. And if now you too have a serious craving for s’mores, you can check out my musings for a s’mores inspired bonfire here. I've been doing a lot of research. You're welcome. 

How pinteresting.

So, I made a pinterest account. I know, I’m trying to stay trendy and current. Before long, I’m sure I’ll have a tumblr account too. Sheesh. This is exhausting. But seriously, it’s pretty cool. It’s kind of like an electronic collage or something. It’s certainly more organized than the bookmarks I’ve filed on my computer and it’s definitely way addicting. Like, it’s taken over my life – yet makes me feel super productive at the same time. For example, pinterest has this evil way of making you feel like you’ve planned your next super chic dinner party, completed some super cute diy project, or baked a super tasty ultimate chocolate lover’s chocolate cake – but really you’ve just stayed up far too late pinning things other people have done as inspiration for said projects. Hmmm.

If you’re at all interested, you can head over to my pinterest account here, where I’m currently obsessing over all things pretty.

Maybe I should stick to the old fashioned methods of tearing pages out of magazines and making a corkboard myself. At least that way I’d have an excuse to buy these darling pushpins.