When I see my friends post pictures of their young kids in matching outfits, I think it’s pretty adorable. I imagine one of the most fun parts about having kids is making them wear ridiculous things. Want to know what’s less fun? Being part of the sibling pair that has to wear a matching outfit.
Sissy and I weren’t immune to this. Attending a wedding and wearing a dress that shared a flower pattern with my sister’s dress may be my earliest memory of my independence being under attack.
As we got a little older and developed our individual style, we’d sometimes share clothes, but would never dream of getting ANYTHING that matched. “Don’t copy me!” with a “Don’t boss me!” retort were common mid-90s refrains – set to a Luscious Jackson soundtrack – that I can still hear in my head today.
Here’s the thing about matching with your biological sibling, even if you’re not wearing similar clothes, you’re wearing similar DNA. Whether you like it or not, you’re matching. You can’t get away … Read the rest
I spent a long weekend in Minneapolis, celebrating Sissy’s birthday and enjoying our favorite haunts. People often comment on how they wish they could be a fly on the wall during our sister times. Wish no more…here’s a glimpse into our sistinerary for the weekend…
Thursday, Feb. 14 – Sissy’s birthday/Valentine’s Day
7:58 p.m. – Plane lands at MSP after a four-hour delay in KC. I could have driven in less time than it took to fly here. Take light rail downtown where Sissy swoops me up on a corner. I take a deep breath of dry, crisp Minnesota winter air and secretly miss it.
8:45 p.m. – Dinner at Origami – Start with hot sake and shrimp dumplings, then proceed to order way too much fish and hit a wall when there are two pieces of sushi left. Force selves to finish because it’s so good it would be stupid to leave it. The music is annoying.
“What a handsome dog! What is he?” We were sick of not having an answer, so we invested in the Wisdom Panel dog DNA test. About three weeks after Charlie reluctantly let us swab the inside of his cheeks with bristly little wands and sent them to get analyzed, we got the results delivered to our email inbox.
We always assumed he was a mastiff because of his coloring, wrinkly head and constantly underwhelmed expression, but we knew he must be mixed with something else. When I got the “The results are in,” email, we hunkered down and opened the report. We were shocked to learn that Charlie Chooch had SO many breeds mixed into his 115-pound body, including Chow and Husky. Most shockingly, we learned he’s only 12.5 percent Mastiff.
To celebrate the eclectic hodge-podge of canine that lives in our house, we decided to throw our dog a Breed Reveal Party. We figured he’d be excited to hear about his genealogy, and it would give me an excuse to cook stuff. To make … Read the rest
It was 93 degrees in Paris, and I was on day five of my solo European adventure. The romance of independent travel was wearing off and my simple desire for someone to talk to was setting in. I had been awake since 3 a.m., running face-first into a cruel series of travel-induced roadblocks, least of which was my laughable attempt at speaking French. I wandered “les rues” weary and wilting under the heavy air, desperately needing water, a functional ATM and a bathroom. And then there it was.
When I was eight, I fantasized about seeing the Eiffel Tower one day. Europe seemed galaxies away – completely inaccessible to a country mouse like me. But 22 years later, the imposing icon was right in front of my face. My weariness turned into a whirl of giddiness and awe. I wanted to share this with someone. My eight-year-old self wanted to turn and say, “Can you believe we are here?! Do you see this?!” But everyone around me were strangers and seemingly unaffected.
I don’t know if you heard the news, but this gypsy is wandering. I was recently presented with an outstanding career opportunity in Kansas City, and being a girl who has a hard time passing up an adventure, I jumped on it. To be honest, Huzzbot is the one who gave me the kick in the pants to do it. Another reason why he is the best.
After people share their excitement with me, the number one question I get is, “What about Sissy?!” I get concerned looks from people asking about her emotions and if she’ll move along with us. You guys, don’t worry about Sissy. We’ll miss each other terribly, but will find ways to hang out. She is actually coming in December for our annual cookie-baking extravaganza, and I know we’ll still have adventures to share with you.
The second comment I receive is, “What about the blog? Are you going to find bakeries down there? You’re not gonna start blogging about BBQ, right?” Yes, I will be exploring a new world … Read the rest
I know everyone’s been having a moment about pumpkin spice. I don’t blame them. Fall is a wonderful time of year, and certain flavors lend themselves to the magic of the season. I’m a Starbucks girl, but have never been able to get into #PSL. It kinda tastes like plastic smells. Plastic mixed with autumnal candles.
I’m typically a latte purist. Espresso, milk, foam, period.
When Sissy asked, “Have you had the Toasted Graham Latte from Starbucks yet?” I instantly dismissed it because it sounded like a synthetic sugar bomb. But the more she described it, I became intrigued. She says it has three distinct “stages of taste,” which can be described as 1) the initial sip, 2) when it’s in your mouth/going down your throat and 3) the aftertaste.
Fine, I’ll try it. Verdict: I loved it.
Honestly, I’m not sure why. Maybe because it’s reminiscent of the incomparable chai from Uncommon Grounds. (Have you been there? Do it. And don’t be dumb – get your chai with whole milk.) The Toasted Graham Latte … Read the rest