casapinka

Stream of consciousness at 3am

It's 3:30 am and I won't mention the poor sweet girl asleep next to me who just got sick all over her bed (please aim away from the computer, please aim away from the computer.) Naturally, I'm wide awake and decided to see what I could find at the Tate. I found some lovely Warhol Christmas cards, so wait one second while I ask Husband if we can use them. Honey? Nudge. "Can I order some Christmas cards from a museum store?" Answer: umm hummm, grunt, turn over (removing the darned covers with him.) YES! With all of you as my witnesses. And here's a cool coffee mug of the Tate Liverpool.

 

I've had my eye on coffee mugs  lately because last week Husband arrived home with a horrific set of mugs from WAL-MART with autumn foliage or fruit (or some crap - I'm sure you get the picutre) on them. I immediately placed them into the GoodWill box but he found them, got mad, and we wound up in an argument becuase  they are "gorgeous" and I clearly have no taste.  I swear to you, he called them gorgeous. Wait, maybe they're online and I can receive a sympathy comment or two. Oh dear, here they are. And God help me, apparently he could have bought them as a 16 piece dinnerware set. 

Ok, back to the Tate. Look at the Artist's Techniques and Methods course. For just 20 quid (I can't figure out how to do  pound sign at this hour) you get unlimited access, assignments, video tutorials and can post your art to get critiqued (oh yeah,  fun. Posting art at the Tate Modern sounds sooooo painless. Root canal, anyone?) The courses look wonderful, though, and check out the kid's section because it almost (like in a distant galaxy kind of almost) makes home schooling look tempting.

Smilers

It's been rainy here this weekend, perfect for snuggling up in front of the fire and knitting.  I thought I'd show you my knitting bag, which I bought in Ireland last year. The cheerful colors and dancing stars always brighten my day, an important quality in a knitting bag.  I'm concentrating on small inspirations at the moment and studying my environment to make sure I love the objects in my home and that I have lots of things that I call "smilers" (things that make me smile.)  If I'm not careful, I find that occasionally I house something that is pretty mediocre and is taking up space. Boo to mediocrity!  Fortunately, I find that most things I have really are smilers or they have a good story attached to them. 

 See? My thrifted Pyrex bowl: Definite smiler.  

 Coffee, the paper and a ginger scone last weekend...all make me feel inspired. I also love my plates - yes, something that isn't pink makes me smile!

 

An Alexander Girard pillow that I have, ready to be put on our couch when Junior stops using Sharpies to draw pirate patches on his eye. A real smiler that is held hostage in my closet for the moment.

 Life's too short to have ugly stuff, and while not everyone likes my taste (yes blogreaders, it's true), I feel lucky to know what I love and to do so unapologetically. It's also important not to become immune to the objects in your home; if something has ceased giving you pleasure when you see it, tuck it away and try again in a month...it's like free shopping! Sometimes my need for fun things causes conflict with  Husband, though, like when our super boring maroon can opener broke and I created this. Oh man, the whining - you'd think I had purchased my our dream coffee table:

 

via Flickr

Here's what I think about Husband: Secretly he's psyched to have a wife who wants to reupholster our couch in lavender and silver velvet, he just can't admit it. It's a street cred thing: The more he begs for dark wood paneling and matching  furniture sets flanked by Queen Ann end tables, the more fantastic our surroundings become, wink wink.

 And finally, speaking of smilers,  I'm passionately in love with Juniorette's coat. I wonder if I could squeeze into the girl's size 16 - who cares if the sleeves are halfway up my arms and I can't button it, right? I also love how she wore her polka dotted skirt so it would "match" her coat. The kid clearly knows right from wrong and the value of a smiler, and I'm awfully proud of her for it.

Pink flowers and peppermint tea

In the quiet of a teacher's studio,  a fledgling painter studies her work. The oil paints are magic, how they all come together to create shimmers and tones of color. The quiet is stunning after days of sick children mimicking Cirque de Soleil performers and she appreciates the sun on her face and the  mug of peppermint tea the teacher has placed by her palette. Some people long for diamonds or large houses but the student would be content with moments like this scattered throughout her life. (Compare with Junior's latest activity, found on Twitter.)

Yellow sofa

In a house that we don't own is a whitewashed knitting room with a little yellow davenport. There is a table in front for tea and a side table with a pretty lamp. The knitter can see into the vegetable garden and to the goat peeing on the tire of a BMW 7 series (Husband's gritting my teeth fantasy sans the goat.) Ah...where would we be if we didn't have dreams? I actually got some lovely dream time today as I sipped my coffee and read the New York Times, where I spotted this object d'art. True, Junior did pull what Husband calls a Wobbler because his sister forcibly removed a Tinkerbell Pez dispenser from his fist but I handed him a marker, the sports section and an apple muffin and all was peaceful and dreamy at Casapinka.

Ten things that make me smile

1. Happy pillows in the making

2. Tea that flowers when you pour hot water over it. So nice with honey on a cold day.

 

3. Finding stuff like this at the top of the stairs, and then thinking, "well, hey - it could have been a jumbo Mars Bar." (Husband denies guilt here)

 

4. A boy who thinks Hello Kitty socks are just as good as Thomas ones.

 

5. A cold morning with a bowl of cereal delivered to me in bed

 

6. Our local farmer's market and the chance to see who grows our food.

7. A fairy and a yeti ("I NOT PUPPY DOG. I A YETI!) 

 

8. Special school lunches packed with love. Oh, and a dining room table that is beautifully imperfect.

 

9. A knitted coat in progress in two gorgeous colors (lavender with pink cuffs and collar.)  Pattern to coat is called Sylvi. 

 

10. A rough and tumble little guy who has a baby doll named Tom. He (Junior) is also heavy into pirates and calling me Scurvy Dawg while growling.)

Pink Tank

Pink Tank by Danish artist Marianne Jorgenson. She had knitters from all over the world send her pink squares and created this tank cozy to protest Denmark's involvement in Iraq. 

“For me, the tank is a symbol of stepping over other people’s borders. When it is covered in pink, it becomes completely unarmed and it loses it’s authority. Pink becomes a contrast in both material and color when combined with the tank.”

Do you think she nipped down to the local Salvation Army and bought a tank on Half Off Wednesday? Husband, remember how you lectured me about trying to make a toaster cozy? Mm hmmmm.

Stenciled Floor

Today I've been thinking about this delicate stenciled floor which is in my inspiration journal. It's a bit trodden on and worn, just like a well- loved floor should be. I also love the fresh flowers and open fire - add a cup of hot tea and a comfy chair and I'm in heaven! Via Living Etc.

Pink Couches, Cowboys, and Cowbabies

 I'm not entirely sure why the pink babies and cowboy don't come across as contrived, but I think the ensemble is rawther sensational. Not to mention that pink couch - I want to dive right  in and lounge for a week or two.  Shhh, Husband...I have three words for you if you aren't more respectful: Your Future Study. From LivingEtc.

Lyme Lyme go Away, Casapinka wants to Play

I've been avoiding writing posts...the stupid Lyme is kicking me in the teeth again but I feel silly talking about it in a design blog, which should be a place of happiness and escape. Rather than making cupcakes for my Cupcake Sociology Project, with the limited energy I have, I've been delousing my children. EW. Now, aren't you glad I'm not making cupcakes and removing lice simultaneously? Perhaps the Lyme is performing a public service to the cupcake accepting masses. Oh, that's not all: Our landlord put our apartment up for sale out of the blue, didn't tell us, and went on vacation! I mean, selling a lice infested apartment right out from under a girl is rude. That should weigh heavily on a person's conscience: Leaving a husband, wife, two kids, a cat and 100 lice homeless. I know it's my bathtub that will sell the place; maybe I should paint it olive green to slow down the sale, but I think I'd rather have lice infested kids than an olive green tub. Says something about the state of the Casapinka Nation, doesn't it?

Painting from Pollypainting's Etsy shop.

Giveaway - Breast Cancer Awareness month

Thanks to Mrs. Blandings for organizing the toast off to Breast Cancer Awareness month. I made this capelet (I call it the Raspeberry Cafe au Lait  Capelet) and am offering it in a giveaway to one lucky, pink loving reader. It is made of very soft handspun and handpainted merino on top and alpaca and wool on the bottom, made for size S or M but could really fit anyone - just thread a satin ribbon through the top and tie as loosely as you need.  If you'd like to enter, leave a comment (the drawing will be on October 20 and random, probably pieces of paper pulled from the frog potty that Junior refuses to use.) This summer one of my dear friends had both of her breasts removed and is in the middle of chemotherapy. She inspires me daily with her strength and friendship and pink happens to be her favorite color, so this one's for you, Deb. XXOO

A happy purse with lots of pink accents. Buy it here.

 pink suitcases

A subtle pink teacup

What I tend to buy all too often

Pink camisole

Kim's pretty pink bedroom 

Pink glass vases from Pieces

The  Chateau Lamp which appears to have small pink chairs inside it. I just think it is incredibly sweet and covetable.

Also,  please think about supporting a worthwhile cause or entering a walk or run for breast cancer. 

Susan G. Komen

Avon Walks for Breast Cancer

Kitchen Aid Cook for the Cure

House hunting

We looked at a house this weekend but I'm afraid we didn't see eye to eye.

Husband: There's no place for a snooker table.

Pink: Yeah, but the bathroom has a pink sink and bathtub...Bordello chic!

Husband: There's no playroom for the kids.

Pink: But honey, there's a fedora in the backyard.

Crocheted rainbow blanket

Taking a short break from cupcakes, I thought you might like to see the blanket I made for Juniorette. It's sad that so many crocheted patterns are diabolically ugly because they certainly don't have to be! You could  hear cries from the masses when I added in grey but I think the outcome was worth the dissent (not to mention a real sign of restraint on my part.)

Cupcake Sociology Project - Day 4

Strawberry Jam Cupcakes with White Frosting and an Organic Crystallized Raspberry 

I made these cupcakes to try and heal a rift. They were for a committee meeting and one of the committee members is a tool. That's it, I said it. If he wants to call me a tool he can start his own blog, but let's face it: He's too busy being a tool. 

I confronted him a few weeks ago, saying I had felt bullied and attacked when stating an opinion and in the future I would appreciate if he would address me calmly and with respect. As is often the case in these situations, others felt the same way as I did but opted to keep quiet rather than risk confrontation with a bully. I said my peace, moved on and didn't think too much of it again (it's not like he refused a cupcake and then showed me brussels sprouts.)

This was The Tool's last week on the committee, his tenure up, and I decided to make him cupcakes as a goodbye kindness. I was no longer angry and I felt like it would be a good thing to do and perhaps it would heal some of the animosity that I'm sure he still harbored (me, I have too bad of a memory to hold a grudge. I had practically forgotten about the transgression that made me want to take his Gucci loafers and, in a very clandestine fashion, gently place a piece of ABC gum on the side of the black suede as I bent under the boardroom table to retrieve my dropped pen.) 

I brought the cupcakes to the meeting and everyone seemed surprised, especially the Tool. We segued into a discussion on how long it takes arsenic laced food to kill someone. He seemed fairly certain he was safe; arsenic is slow ("if you don't want to get caught," he added.) 

Almost everyone ate a cupcake and it was, believe it or not,  a warm and productive meeting. People seemed surprised by the cupcake gesture,  but soon after a feeling of goodwill perfused the room and I was happy that I had brought them in (sometimes making cupcakes in a situation like this, especially as a woman, might seem sort of ditzy and domestic, but  I'm a sociologist these days so who the hell cares?) There were good discussions and great communication as people munched on their sweet treats.  This resulting warmness makes me think that I shouldn't refer to him as the Tool anymore; how about the gentleman whose behavior is sometimes toolish?

One committee member turned up his nose at the icing and refused a cupcake, and I might have predicted it based on personality, but there I go being judgmental again. "Why?" I asked, curious, "What don't you like about it?" as he hemmed and hawed and analyzed it.

"The frosting, it's sort of shiny or something." 

And then, I kid you not, the Tool the man whose behavior is sometimes toolish came to my defense: "It's probably egg whites and sugar - it's supposed to look like that. It's good." At which point, Shiny Frosting Freaks Me Out guy (who - hoots and holler all around please, happens to be a psychiatrist) passed them on and announced for his last day on the committee he's bringing - get this - fresh fruit. I hope you see the humor in this as much as I do. He then plucked a crystallized raspberry off a cupcake and popped it into his mouth.

The next day, my dad came down from Maine for a visit. He had a long drive and got a mild case of low blood sugar and asked if I had anything to eat. Well, he got a cupcake, and not only did he go into a diabetic sugar coma love it, it cured his low blood sugar. Cupcakes as medicine, I'll buy that.

At the park, I realized I had four cupcakes left over in a container in my trunk. I was talking to four parents who had been there a good bit of the afternoon when I remembered the cupcakes and ran to my car. I didn't even ask if they wanted one, I just handed them out with, "Here's your cupcake!" They took them appreciatively and I can't deny that I love feeding appreciative people. Actually, one is a food writer, blogger and radio food show host but I can't remember if she liked hers or not, I was so excited that they not only ate a cupcake but posed for a photo! Good people, happy to be fed with a concoction of eggs, butter, sugar and raspberries. My peeps!

I only baked with one child this time and it was much easier than with two.  A couple of hiccups, though. Junior insisted on using his  "I pirate, you a scurvy dog arrrrrrgh" knife which makes him into this crazed toddler who growls incessantly and calls me "Matey." (Oh, you think it's bad that he has a knife? You haven't witnessed his nunchuck collection, so be thankful. Sometimes, we are forced to choose the lesser of evils as parents.) He especially enjoyed licking the bowl with the knife and HEY YOU!  Is that a cupcake batter hand on my precious Orla wallpapered fridge? You'd better be glad I'm only seeing it now that I'm looking at the photo, buster!

Another mistake: The cupcake (I'm bowing my head with embarrassment here) recipe called for "Self rising flour." Of course I didn't have any, despite being sure I'd bought some last week. I thought I remembered reading that self rising flour is plain flour with leavening agents in it, salt, baking powder etc. So, I made my own self rising flour and baked twelve flat, tiny, dry cupcakes. I frosted them but they were sort of puny and reject-like, not the cupcake you want to take to the prom, that's for sure.

Yes, I then dragged Junior to the store for self rising flour, where he insisted I place him in the giant car shaped shopping cart. You know the one - impossible to steer around corners, and inevitably you try to turn around in the middle of an aisle and sideswipe the feminine hygiene shelf sending boxes of tampons cascading onto the floor, and never get turned around anyway. All for one bloody item (oops, bad choice of words.).  I did it because I'm a good mom and I also believe it gives me back celestial gold stars that I lose when I curse out loud (which in the kitchen, does happen, on occasion.)

We returned and made the cupcakes again and the rest is organic raspberry adorned sugar history. 

Do you guys want recipes? Shall I include them?

Cupcake Sociology Project - Day 3

For all my talk about strutting along and tossing cupcakes to every man, woman and child as they all swallow them whole, I was a bit nervous to go out into the world. I definitely took the wimp's route and started at our fairly liberal Episcopal church just down the way. The first woman I saw was the church secretary. She knew my name and asked where I was going with the cupcakes. I stuttered a brief explanation and offered her one but she declined. "Crap. Here we go," I said to myself.

"May I ask why?" and I told her more about the CSP. 

"Well, I guess I just don't know you that well. And I'd be afraid of germs." HELLO? This is a real live church, not some Dan Brown novel.  WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU JUST DON'T KNOW ME THAT WELL?! I wash my hands after peeing. I cleaned the eyebrow tweezers before using them on the flowers. Deep breath, Pink. She's just being a freak honest.

So, off I went to our main priest's office. She's going through a hard time right now and could use some cupcake love. She declined on account of her waistline but quickly caved when I told her about my project, which may have made her just feel sorry for me. Here's this parishoner in a neon yellow and pink apron babbling about some sociology project when she has no sociology degree or compelling reason for the project, other than "I think it's interesting." The sort of person who is used to pats on the hand and a very slow "It's ohhhhhh - kaaaaaay. You're going to be just fiiiiiiine. (Just ask Husband, he's always doing this to me.) Alternatively, you take a cupcake and the neon apron shuts up and leaves you alone. She liked it, though, a lot. I could tell.                 (knitted cupcake via Plump Pudding)

Elated that I had a cupcake accepter,  I climbed under the eaves to the assistant priest's office. I like her for many reasons. For one thing, she has one of those 3D hologram pictures of Jesus by her door. If you stand to the right, it's Jesus' face and if you stand to the left Jesus is pumping gas at a Shell Station (or maybe he's just preaching, I can't remember.) Her toddler's name is Seamus and she lets me refer to him as BS (Baby Seamus.) She and her husband have started referring to him as BS, too. As in, Would BS like a cupcake? Good qualities in a priest. 

She had a cupcake right away and clearly loved the refined super duper processed Jello chocolate pudding filling. Remember? That was the stuff I used to fill the Port-a-Potty cupcakes. We discussed bringing cupcakes to a local homeless shelter and other ways to implement the CSP. We also discussed what a safe choice she was for Day 3 because she's even less of a germaphobe than I am.  I spotted BS eating a leaf at the park one day, just gnashing it with his terrible teeth and rolling it with his rotten tongue. I went to remove it and she said, "Nah, don't worry about it. He doesn't like vegetables so the leaf is his vegetable for the day." Priest woman, YOU GO! I know I told you I had a story about a breastfeeding priest, but you're just going to have to wait for it because I think I've tortured her enough for today.

I got back into my car and headed down the road to Plaid and Stripe. The owner is a lovely man and I thought I might be able to pawn off a cupcake on him and a customer or two. I'm kind of a chicken about this stranger thing, aren't I? I think I'm fearing cupcake violence or rejection after rejection due to stranger with pastel baked goods anxiety.  I like acts of kindness that are either anonymous (like paying for the car behind you at a tollbooth) or unambiguously welcome, like if Husband were to buy me a pink Nissan Figaro.  The owner of Plaid and Stripe wasn't there but a woman was minding the register and tripped over a box of dog collars trying to get a cupcake (now that's a compliment) "I'm a true chocoholic", she claimed "and those look goooooooood!" Phew - another cupcake gone, another enthusiastic recipient.  I also left one for the owner ("WIMP!" the readers all cry in unison, don't think I can't hear you.) 

I then sidetracked to the knitting store with two more cupcakes left on my lovely white plate. One actually sailed onto the floor of the car when I hit the brakes but don't worry - I covered up the damage with a smear of frosting with my finger. Wasn't it Julia Child who said you should never confess to mistakes unwitnessed by others? Anyway, I needed a break from the tension of giving away the cupcakes which is why the trip to knitting nirvana. How do I let drunk men in restraints scream, "Bitch!" and "Ho!" at me in the ER and not bat an eye? Probably because if offered a cupcake, they would sit with enchanted smiles and eat 'er up. 

Since we're now on the topic of knitting, I fell in love with this lavender yarn that matches the frosting.  I procrastinated by taking photos of the remaining cupcakes with the yarn (and clearly I fit in some time to actually start a scarf with it.)  File me under Pathetic, go ahead. I was going to offer a cupcake to the owner of the knitting store but I could sense an "I'm on a diet" response. I was worried I was going to yell, "It's not a joint, for F's sake!" and shove it into her mouth. A bit of self knowledge is great prison prevention, isn't it? 

After wasting time photographing yarn and planning the crocheting of this sweater I went to pick up Junior from school. On the way there I passed a vegetable garden that I always admire and saw the gardener out working. She was a woman of about sixty five or seventy, tall and thin (I say this for plot development, not to kill time.)  I drove past then stopped, did a three point turn, drove past again. I did another three point turn and sat there feeling like a tool. Just give her the cupcake already, Pink. I got out of the car with my apron on,  two flower topped cupcakes on the plate, and timidly walked up to her. HiIalwaysadmireyourgardenandIhaveacupcakeforyou." Well, she turned me down. "No thank you." Pause. "I just lost some weight," she informed me with a slightly uppity Yankee accent, which was most likely my imagination. Remember that she is tall and thin. And sixty five or seventy. Shouldn't she have that self actualization down by now and be consuming butter by the truckload? Awkward silence, me standing there balancing the  plate on my hip and waiting for the dirt to swallow me up. What now? 

 She was supposed to say, "Hey there! (Big back slap) I LOVE cupcakes. How did you make them? What do you think about community agriculture? Come, let's have tea and I'll teach you to garden!" I stood there feeling like a pigeon toed four year old in a dumb apron who just peed her pants. I started telling her about my cupcake project (which I can assure you, the blogger typed ironically, sounded both credible and intelligent.)  I felt like I was auditioning to meet her son, Dexter, so we could go to the Newport Yacht Club and mingle with the Vanderbilts. Like she was making sure I wouldn't launch an armpit fart between dinner and dessert or clap between movements at the symphony with Dexter.  She then directed me to look at the Brussels sprouts she was growing, because you don't really understand where on the plant they grow when buying them in a store. From chocolate pudding cupcakes to BRUSSELS SPROUTS?! Where oh where did this conversation go wrong? I finally walked back to my car, ever conscious that when I turned around there was no apron in the back of me. Thank God I don't wear assless chaps; I never would have gotten a date with Dexter. I actually started crying when I drove away. If I don't man up soon, this project is going to be over.

Here's what I know. I felt really disappointed and ashamed when that woman turned me down. I know it sounds dumb but I want to be honest. My rational brain thinks, "Pink, lots of people are diabetic/lactose intolerant/allergic to sugar/crazy, but I think some of it has to do with the mixed support I've received for this project and all my creative endeavors, really.  A couple of years ago I applied to be the Chuck E. Cheese mascot, which seemed like a natural thing to do,  and had the same reaction from people. People just don't seem to get it. That there is value in observing others in certain situations that don't involve The Foxy Lady or eating wings at Hooters. Perhaps part of me felt like all those times I've given a loved one a gift and had it returned because it wasn't the right gift or wasn't needed, but that's not what giving gifts is all about, is it?

I am definitely going to work on not worrying if someone declines a cupcake; I had no idea when I stared that this would be an issue.  I wanted to study other people during the Cupcake Sociology Project and I got bogged down in my inability to just get out there and lob baked goods at the masses.  An act of kindness shouldn't really be based on the recipient's response; it should be selfless, so I definitely need to work on that.  I also noticed that I use the word "ass" a lot. I should work on that, too.

(knitted cupcake via Plump Pudding)

Cupcake Sociology Project - Day 2

Would this woman scare you? Hell yes!  If she offers you a cupcake, RUN!

Day 2 -  I'm making chocolate cupcakes with lavender frosting. You can see how the middle of my cupcakes caved in, leaving them with big fat craters.  So, what to do - it's 8pm and my cupcakes look like port-a-potties.  I decided to send Husband to the corner store for some chocolate pudding which I realize is the confectionary equivalent of Velveeta. Big sigh -sending my Irish husband to a store for anything "American" is always an adventure. 

Husband: "Chocolate pudding? Why are you going to put a chocolate cake thing inside your cupcakes? They're already cakes."

Pink: "Honey, it's like asking for directions. Just go to the cashier and say, Where is the... oh, NEVER MIND."

After spooning in some chocolate pudding (he did it - he got the nice sugar filled, plastic packaged, super processed pudding - thanks, honey),  I gave up for the night.  Oh, and those of you who think it's sweet to bake with kids? Baking with my kids was like handing me a phone number for an adoption agency. After fishing playdough out of the cupcake mix and repeatedly lecturing Junior that butter was not the same as Butt Paste, and telling Juniorette that it was NOT ok to play My Brother is a Chair while on the floor in the middle of the kitchen, I put on Scooby Doo and ordered them not to return. 

You can see how Hello Kitty, despite having no mouth, seems to be saying, "I freaking told you to start with room temperature butter!" Time for the frosting. I put an entire pound of sugar into my pink Kitchen-Aid mixer,  along with three sticks of (not room temperature) butter and a half teaspoon of vanilla extract. When I tasted it, it was like licking Polident. Cruch, crunch, crunch. Yes, confectioner's sugar is that fine stuff  and granulated sugar is - surprise - crunchy, sort of like the definition of "granulated." Frosting apparently requires the cocaine, rather than the kitty litter, of the sugar world. Ah well, live and learn (and I hope you will give me some slack as I try to find my way around the ins and outs of baking stuff other than No Bake cookies!)

Off went the reject frosting, with a nice dollop onto my shoe (thrifted for $3 and never worn. I never miss a chance to highlight a thrifting score, do I?)  Don't you hate when people take photos of their shoes and put them in blogs or books? Me too!

Off to the store I went for the cocaine sugar and returned to make a lovely frosting, which I tried to match to Husband's I'm Confident in My Manhood tie. Clearly, my dye job can't compete with David's Bridals. You know, those apricot satin shoes that match the apricot taffeta dress which matches the apricot thong and scrunchie? Better not quit my day job.

Time to crystalize the edible flowers with egg white and water. This calls for kitchen tweezers, whatever those are. Anyway, I used tweezers from my medicine cabinet. Sure, they're for my eyebrows but what's a little antibacterial soap among friends? And let's face it, we're lucky I didn't bust out a needle driver from a suture kit! Oh no, I need a paintbrush, too? Always read the directions beforehand, seems to be an important lesson today (shut up, Husband.) Don't worry, I painted the egg white mixture on with a very clean paintbrush. I wonder if anyone will look at my cupcakes and say, "Hell NO! Those flowers look like you used your eyebrow tweezers on them. Back off, Sistah!"

Then, I was admiring my handiwork and what happened? I knocked over the box of Superfine sugar. What - a third type of sugar? you ask.  Oh Pink, did you have to run out to the store again? Yes ma'am, I sure did. This stuff is slightly more crunchy that the cocaine sugar but you know, I'm really trying to learn here, and there was no way I was going to stiff my eyebrow tweezer sugar flowers out of their rightful accoutrement. 

The next post will be about my encounters while trying to give away the cupcakes.  One encounter involves Brussels sprouts and I have certainly found out that I'm a bit oversensitive when it comes to giving away my cupcakes. And don't worry, the cupcakes will become prettier with experience and hopefully I'll do a better job of including my kids in the process. 

I'll leave you with this, though. I saved a cupcake for Husband and he had it with his usual evening cup of Irish tea. And- Oh no you di-nt - he told me that the "topping" (the super wonderful buttercream frosting, the same stuff which caused me to almost pass out from ecstasy while in Magnolia Bakery) was... TOO RICH. Coming soon to a theatre near you: Jackass: The Husband.

Cupcake Sociology Project

Last week my daughter and I made delicious muffins with raspberries from the farmer's market. We decided to give them away to people at the park, sort of a goodwill gesture - extending ourselves outside our comfort zone (well, mine at least) and sharing with strangers. 

Nobody took them! My daughter must have offered muffins to seven or eight people and they all turned her down, leaving her in tears. 

This got me thinking. What is it about food and sharing? Are people afraid of germs? Serial killers? Sauteed houseflies? Certainly, my two year old will eat a discarded piece of pizza found in a mud puddle, and my daughter might grab an animal cracker from another kid, that sort of thing. She knows not to take food from strangers, but I guess I don't classify the occasional shared park snack as being from a "stranger."  My kids don't get sick particularly often (unless you count last winter's barf bug that seemed to last for weeks); I think they have very strong immune systems, so I'm not worried about my inclusiveness to germs in their lives. I think they are much more likely to get sick from a snot covered hand which touches a desk at school than a dried apricot from another child at the park, but I'm curious - what do you think?

Anyway,  I've decided to embark on a month long study where I will make gorgeous and delicious cupcakes and offer them to random people, noting why they decline my treats if they tell me, and seeing what sort of conversations come from sharing something gorgeous and edible with a stranger. I'll blog about my baking process, try to take some nice photos and then we'll see what happens as I try to pawn them off on friends and strangers. 

What are your thoughts? Are you afraid of germs? What if a non-scary woman offered you a succulent cupcake: Would you take it? I think I would, and I'd be curious why she was offering them. I think this will help me reach out to people in a world that seems so anxious right now. Maybe I'll get cupcakes smeared in my face and maybe I'll learn a thing or two about baking and human nature. Please join me!

Cupcake photos courtesy of Dainty Cupcake: Her blog is here, and her Flickr site is here.

Baatbar tray

Gol darnit, Ikea's new Baatbar tray sure is cute. Time for a trip to Hokkea, as Junior calls it, in his "Miss Golightly, I protest!" voice. 

Yellow house pink door

Husband and I are looking - just looking, mind you, at houses. I came across this one, and although it is geographically totally and completely unavailable (we're talking about houses, not loser ex-boyfriends), it is still worthy of a gawk. 

I'm certain I could fix the garage in the back to look more like this one.

And the door to the mews could be suitably dressed up.

And if I showed Husband that this door exists in - Egads! - Dublin, I might just have my way with this sensational pink yellow house.

Ah honey, don't get all grumpy - I can't help what's on the market. We can always paint it, right? 

Prabal Gurung

Dear Prabal, I'm in love with your blouse. I'd really like to "Make this blouse into a room" like beloved Domino used to do. Incidentally, in the  Glamour magazine that comes as a (tragic) substitute for defunct Domino (RIP, beloved), I found this most excellent blouse between "Could you lose weight playing Wii?" and "Yes, I'm a 27 year old virgin." 

Now, that's persistence. (I'm talking about me, not the 27 year old virgin.) 

Snapshots from Summer

I promise to get back to more designer-y things soon. But for now a few snapshots from summer.

Palette from my painting class

Winding yarn on a seesaw at the park, carefully coordinated with Juniorette's popsicle and dress. Like, I have so much time to myself while my kids hang out and smoke cigarettes, what else am I supposed to do?!

A diner outside Burlington, VT.  while on vacation. Naturalemente,  I have a boy who insists on wearing pink sunglasses (you can just tell we held him down and Gorilla Glued them on, can't you?)

Your the Bust

Brought to me by my daughter during a quiet moment when I was trying to rouse the mojo to take two children out into 90 degree heat. Laugh? Moi? I must, I must... (fans of Judy Blume will get the reference.)

Yarnbombing

Have you heard of Yarnbombing? Guerilla knitters wanting to beautify their cities and find uses for their unfinished projects have developed a form of graffiti art. I first saw this bus via  a Decor8 Tweet and haven't been able to get it out of my mind!

Let's face it, in this crazy world their is just something so...civilized about being a yarnbomber. More yarnbombing photos at Craftzine and Masquerade, and there is even a book!

And thanks to all of you for your emails and comments about the Lyme Disease. I am planning to just try and stay positive and be grateful for the small things in life, and the days when I do feel human. You guys are a great support and I want you to know how much this means to me.

Making lemonade

Here is my current project, a striped blanket for Juniorette. It's hard to know how much to share with people on a blog but I've been having a hard time over the last several months, finally finding out last week that I have Lyme Disease. This is why my posts have been so sporadic and there's been so little decorating. 

Anyway, wearing funny socks and doing projects like this blanket are keeping me going. So are all your wonderful emails; I love when I hear that I've inspired someone or that some guy in  Japan thought of me when he saw Hello Kitty toilet paper (that's a compliment, right?) Anyway, I hope you'll stick with me even with my lapses in posting. Life isn't always easy, but I'm at least trying to make Lemonade from Lymes!  I have to keep in mind that beauty is found in imperfection, so when Junior wears two different shoes and Juniorette tells people, "My mommy got bitten by a tick and now she's kind of grumpy but that's ok because she'll eventually feel better and then she'll play with us," I just remember that we're all just trying to do our best, in our own way.

My perfect outfit

Oooh, look. I feel like Kate Spade raided my closet or something (except for the hair - where are the flowers in the hair?!) The new clothing collection is just divine. I also love this one.

A new project

I am in need of a new project which is portable and a bit sizeable. My dad is having heart surgery this week and I will be spending lots of time sitting. My stepmother is a master knitter and I think it would be nice for both of us to have projects to keep us calm and busy. Maybe we could hold an ICU Stitch and Bitch! Maybe we could teach my dad to knit (ha. ha. double ha.)  If you have any project ideas for me I would love to hear them.

The blanket above could be crocheted in thirds with this serene colorway. I like it a lot. Via Designer's Guild

A nice and happy ripple blanket in glorious hues.

I could see a blanket in these shades, but perhaps a tad too tame.

Via Designers' Guild

And look at this color combo - so serene and dainty! An oatmeal blanket with aqua flowers would be lovely (again, what are these tame colors that I keep pulling up?) Perhaps I'm trying to channel calm to myself...funny how our subconscious works.

Nice bright granny squares via Yvestown. I could see this on our bed and I could use lots of stash to make up the squares. But the piecing together - YEH. And I'd have to haul so much yarn up to Maine with me. And let's face it, nobody knows better than this knitter what lurks on the floors of ICUs. Better to have one cohesive piece that won't get dropped repeatedly.

Pink magazine rack

Rose at The Scarlet Peacock sent me a link to this wonderful magazine rack, which would look perfect in my bedroom, casually placed under my mirrored dressing table. I find it very sweet when people see things like this and think of Casapinka.  I'm always surprised but so happy to hear that people get inspired by my, er, eccentric aesthetic. 

Pink Paris Fashion week

Oh John Galliano, I so love what you do to Dior. 

You know, SO much more would be accomplished at PTA meetings if we could all sit around in these dresses and hats. I'm not sure how, call it instinct. Monsieur Galliano, if you want to send me the top one, I could try it out and see. 

Yarn Porn

I think I'm going to do a series of yarn porn posts. Today, we see lovely wool in my favorite teacup with Juniorette's artwork in the background. I may have this printed so I can hang it up. This particular wool went into a little cape for my dear friend who is just about to start chemotherapy for breast cancer. We won't talk about the rust stains I got on it while steaming it into place. You know, pink, brown tones...it's all good, right, dumbass?

Cat poop palette

I took my 2nd oil painting class this week. My wonderful teacher, Margaret, kind of bummed me out by squirting out white, red, black and cat poop colors and I could only work from them. "Where's the pink? The chartreuse? The magenta and aqua?!" Well, she encouraged me to stick with it and when she sent me this photo, i can't believe that I actually did this! I mean, even Husband identified the thing on the  left as a pear. Not that it will go with anything in my home, but I hope it's the beginning of something pink wonderful.

Chick Cave

Most males I know talks about their "Man Cave," or at least dream of one. Well, this is my idea of a chick cave, decorated completely differently, of course. This Eco pod is from Roostuk and I found it via this month's LivingEtc. Their photography at the site leaves a lot to be desired, as does the interior decor but the overall concept is abfab (or perhaps I should say prefab.) That's it, Abfab Prefab.