TKTC

heavenisforeasygirls:

still the best picture in the universe. end of discussion.

Brother.

pulldownthemoon:

out-of-my-dreams:

tatielle:

via abbytrysagain.typepad.com

Reminds me of Michigan.

lovepuppy:

noraleah:

Utterly adorable Williamsburg couple renovated their utterly adorable Catskills cottage by hand and with just $10,000. I love the use of mint green throughout:

I am 100% certain that Adam will need 0% convincing to try this on our own.

Obsessed. That Philco fridge is the sweetest.

angilio:

indexed — this is a web of clarity and confusion…

adamiss:

GPOIW - Gratuitous Pic of an Isserlis Wednesday.

This is Steven, a slightly more prominent trans-Atlantic Isserlis.

The hair always gives us away.

That looks an awful lot like my hair too.  And I’m obsessed with the cello so this makes me happy.

lovepuppy:

Adam gave me a plant. She is growing. And blooming.

What kind of sweetness gives a potted clematis as a gift?! I love it!

Goodniiiight…one of my longest-standing girl-crushes has started a blog. Katrina Markoff (right up there with Brandi) turns me into a simpering fangirl with her fantasma of chocolate enterprise- Vosges.

Ricotta and Chocolate.

Short Ribs with Chocolate, Licorice and Stout.

I think I might faint.

And I will be supremely embarrassed if she or her publicist find this.

Not all of my cooking-oriented slip-ups happen in the privacy of Wicked Park. No, some are public. And almost fatal. On my birthday a few weeks ago I had the good fortune of being taken on a field trip for my birthday dinner. Molly and I headed to Avondale to try Urban Belly- a most buzzed about Korean haunt with communal seating, duck/foie gras dumplings and a generous BYO policy. It’s my birthday and I get to drink whatever I want?! Kir Royale. That’s what I want. So Mols pulls out a bottle of kirsch and I pull out a bottle of warm bubbly because my birthday doesn’t mean I wasn’t too busy to chill the champers. No matter- they gave us ice and the equivalent of juice glasses.

I’ve opened champagne. I’ve even opened champagne with some grace. I have lovely flutes to drink it out of. I’m a class act and it comes with the territory. Nothing says class like warm champagne cocktails over ice in plastic juice cups, n’est ce pas?

So I go to open the champagne and I wrap napkins around the top about seven layers deep. Then I twist and eaaasssyyyy….KABOOOOOOM! Shreds of paper napkin fly like confetti. Cork narrowly misses the head of an adolescent boy in the exact opposite corner of the restaurant. Opa.

Everyone was a wonderful sport. Even got some “Happy Birthday” salutations out of it. And the boy bestowed the cork on me with a pride not dissimilar to what I see in HoneyCat’s eyes when she brings me one of my earrings.

More mistakes…