This is what my patio looks like this morning. It is not, however, what it looked like yesterday. Between the whole winter/rain situation (the one that also destroyed my outdoor table and benches) and the fact that it’s served as the equipment storage area and workspace for the renovations we’ve been doing for the past six months…
It was officially trashed.
It was so gross I’m embarrassed to show you, but I’m going to. Greater good, and all that.
When it came to comfort foods, I was an odd kid. I'd come home from school and dump a can of French-style green beans into a bowl, microwave it, and eat the whole thing (yes, just a bowl of French-style canned green beans. Delish). I'd stop at the deli across the street and buy a whole pickle - you know, the ones that you get from the big jars behind the counter - and then settle down in front of Duck Tales with a bowl of salt, into which I would dip the pickle.
And then there was my favorite dinner: a recipe that I'm going to credit to my mother that involved...wait for it...
Microwaved salmon.
Three, by Ariane Moshayedi
Forever and a lifetime ago, an email landed in my inbox from a woman, Ariane Moshayedi, who said she was a reader of my site and knew I was expecting my first child. She was a photographer, she said, and she'd love to take our first family photos once the baby arrived.
The shoot did not start out especially fun. We timed it perfectly, of course: Ariane arrived at the exact moment that our son decided he needed to nap, and that if he was not going to be permitted to do so, he was going to make all the adults contributing to the non-napping situation as miserable as possible. Kendrick and I were mortified, but Ariane was patient, relaxed, and so much fun to work with that we eventually just all settled into letting the photos be whatever they were. We coaxed a couple of smiling-through-the-tears shots out of him, but most of them ended up looking slightly less peaceful-and-dreamy, and slightly more like...this.
Winter can be rough on wood.
During the purchasing process for our home, the one thing I asked the former owners if they'd be willing to sell me was their patio table and benches (you can see the set here). It was rustic, and sturdy, and fit the space perfectly - but it was also clearly handmade, so I doubted they'd say yes. And I was right - they said no - but then we moved in a couple of months later...and there they were, waiting for us.
Yay, right?
Omg, this photo. MEMORIES. I no longer have that pair of sandals, that hair, or that zip code (just re-watched our moving day video and sobbed through the whole thing)...but the shorts? Those are still hanging on. (I wore them today, in fact, which may have been a not-so-hot idea considering the fact that they're in the process of disintegrating, but whatever: I love them, and they fit me perfectly, and they are not going anywhere until the wearing of them results in the exposure of actual NC-17-rated body parts.)
If you've been reading here for awhile, you know that denim is sort of my thing. It's just what I feel best in - and what that means is that I've amassed a truly enormous collection of jeans over the years, approximately three of which I actually wear (so sue me: I'm fickle). And so every spring, I dig out a couple of old pairs that I can hack up with a pair of scissors and transform into new items of clothing that I'll actually wear. (As an aside, I know that jean cutoffs sound like the kind of thing you don't need a tutorial for - "...So you, like...cut them?" - but trust me: there are myriad ways in which to go wrong when doing something as permanent as slicing up your clothing. Let me help you.)
But DIY cutoffs aren't the only denim trick I have up my sleeve - and I am not a person who owns a sewing machine or enjoys do-it-yourself projects that take more than five minutes. Which is to say: The below projects require no experience, knowledge, or talent whatsoever, making them - to my mind - just about perfect.
