during the weekend we were tourists in our own city. or, manhattan, if i can call it mine anymore. it happened after a dream where i gave up my big brooklyn apartment for a tiny manhattan thing. i woke up half scared and half excited at the feeling of living in a treehouse above the big city, if only in a dream. so away we rode, for coffee with rob in his midtown high rise and to urbanly explore all over central park and the upper west side. one bag of kale chips and one augustus saint-gaudens statue later my manhattan quota was met and it was time to head home.


et + loved this weekend:

how the mensch stole christmas.

here's how this apartment does chrismukkuh:
decemberists sing-alongs
bacon latkes, kimchi latkes
fancy dresses
a vintage apron
candy cane elephant ears from your friend, the viennesoire man
multi-racial gingerbread transgenders
gingerbread replicas of well-known political figures, complete with m & m sex organs 
rainbow cookies that took two entire days to make
rainbow christmas lights strung on the hanukkuh bush
enough christmas lights to light all of brooklyn
spiked hot chocolate with homemade almond marshmallows 
the kind of epicn-ess that only happens when people arrive at your door with things like home-brewed honey liqueur, a fiddle, and the best pimento cheese on the face of the planet.


second guesses and summer dresses

a politic-free tuesday list 

when, as if i suddenly just became my mother, pumpkin scones appeared on the brunch table at the too-early hour of sunday before noon.

after a night of sipping away sandy and eating midnight chicken buns with rob over conversations of chemistry and the future,

and meeting the human behind one of my most favorite blogs, meg. 


the smell that is happening in my kitchen right now, as onions and sauerkraut cook down for pierogies. {that when i google "what is the plural form of..." the first guess that comes up is "moose."}

and the other dumplings that i'm working on for the violet's winter issue!

and the live dumpling-making soundtrack that is going on in my living room right now.


the i-woke-up-at-4am bagel topped with the generic brand nutella that has crunchy bits of nougat mixed in. 


crisp morning runs.


celebrating the life of elliott carter: remembering the absolutely enjoyable hours spent on his improvisation for solo timpani that got my butt into college, sitting in a box seat when i was five to see my dad play his clarinet concerto, recognizing that, yes, elliott carter spent his 103 years right. rest in piece.



this weekend we became amplified versions of our twelve-year-old selves as we ate grilled cheese and tomato soup and bopped along to ben folds. in between the non existent reveille and an infinite curfew we learned krav maga and did flips on the trapeze. we even performed a flashmob. soccer games, volleyball games, drinking games... and let's not forget those killer sweet dance moves and the s'mores competitions that you won every time. if this is what grown ups do, who needs a childhood?