I cannot take credit for inventing this one - I found it on Pinterest - but I wish I could, because it's genius, costs next-to-nothing, and takes about five seconds (not counting the twenty minutes I spent hunting for a box of Band-Aids to add the all-important finishing touch).
Obviously you need to make a puking pumpkin this Halloween. My personal preference is to do the bare minimum with the pumpkin (does it have a mouth? does it have eyes? you're done.) and just throw on a whole bunch of Costco-brand guacamole, because come on: it's a vomiting pumpkin - how much more do you need?
But if you want to get all fancy and particular about it, here are a whole bunch more ideas for how to completely gross out your guests.
Ew. I know. But Bloody Brains score extremely high on the effort/impact scale: they take just a few minutes to make, and everybody will have something to say about them. (That something will probably be "ew.")
Note: Popcorn balls are always best when they're super-fresh, but you can make these up to a day in advance provided you wrap them individually in plastic wrap and put them in an airtight container; the jelly will retain its shine really well.
The hardest part of making these was keeping my children from eating all of the lollipops quicker than I could wrap them up. The second-hardest part of making these was the fact that my three-year-old REALLY wanted to help, and obviously you need to let children participate with Halloween decoration-making, but girlfriend seriously needs to work on her ghost face-drawing skills, just saying.
These ghosts make cute party favors for kids, but you can use them to decorate in lots of fun ways: use string to hang them from light fixtures and such; fill a bowl with them for a centerpiece; line a mirror or mantle with them. (One caveat: if you're hanging them with string, make sure the string is clear, or the effect can be a little too macabre for a kids' party.)
OK, caveat: I am aware that the macaroni and cheese shown above does not look particularly delicious. It was actually delicious, because all Mac 'n' cheese is delicious and that is just a fact, but it probably would have been more delicious had we made it before people arrived, as opposed to making it in advance and reheating it.
Macaroni and cheese just doesn't look as great post-reheating.
But still.
2 weeks postpartum. (Note: This photo is in no way representative of actual life with a baby.)
The first time I wrote about being a parent was the day after my first child - my son - was born. I didn't "write" about it, actually: I just posted a series of pictures, because I had no idea what to say about parenthood, having experienced it for all of 12 hours, and was overwhelmed by the idea of saying anything at all, lest what I said turn out to be "wrong" or "not motherly enough" or some such ridiculousness. As I wrote in this post, "To write about my feelings for my baby is to open up conversation about those feelings, and they are so precious and so mine that it would be heartbreaking for me were they to be trivialized or misunderstood."
I mean, I used to hide pacifiers before taking pictures because I was scared that some unknown Internet Person would yell at me that giving my baby a pacifier was a terrible, horrible thing to do. ...Because what did I know? Maybe it was!
Mother Cropped Jeans | Free People Thermal
I've gotten pretty dramatic and personal with my posts this week. So today, let's lighten things up and just talk about clothing. OK?
First, let's talk about those Mother jeans. I've been circling various pairs of jeans from the brand forever - they're always so great, but also so expensive that it's hard to pull the trigger - but then I was in Carmel for the day, and Kendrick took our children to an ice cream parlor and then to the park so I could have a second to "just pop in" to a really cute boutique (you know "just to take a peek"), and then all of a sudden it was twenty minutes later and the absence of children (and the profound silence that followed) had forced me to own a pair of Mother jeans.
@extraontop drew me in my natural habitat. Love it; love her; love her work.
Serious question: I'm working on an interesting new project, and am hoping to connect with people who may have worked with or for Ivanka Trump's company at any point in the past (in any context at all). If you or someone you know fits the bill and would be willing to chat - anonymously, if preferred - I'd really love to connect. (You can email me at jordan@shealuna.co.)
NYT food columnist Melissa Clark on her morning routine: "I don’t do yoga, I don’t have a restorative turmeric beverage and I don’t do any meditation." I want to be friends with this woman. (How I Get It Done: Melissa Clark, via The Cut)
Maybe time to toss those rose-colored glasses? (via)
OK, so warning: this post is going to sound very "end of times," and perhaps more than a little...ah, crazy. But bear with me, because I'm not going to tell you to invest in an underground bunker (obviously I already looked into this, and alas, they're distressingly hard to come by, not to mention really quite pricey).
Truth: in my heart of hearts (and despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary), I do not believe that anything really bad - in the vein of a serious natural disaster or a terrorist attack - can actually happen to me. Because, of course, I am invincible. And even if something did happen, everything would probably be fine in the end...right? Isn't that how it works?
I've spent the past week trying to write a story about a shitty performer I saw at a fair, and somehow the post keeps turning into an analysis of systemic misogyny and Harvey Weinstein, and ultimately leads me to a story from my past I've always been afraid to tell. I'm having trouble getting to the root of why all of these things feel so tied up in a ugly little knot.
So - because I might as well start somewhere - let me start with the clown.
