The Easter Edit

A day that was sunny and the Easter bunny.  What more could two girls ask for?*

My hallway table.

Dress: Nine West, Kohl's; Skirt: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

Easter treat trio.

Charlotte on the hunt for hue.*

Bag: Current Mood, Dolls Kill; Shoes: Impo, DSW

The husband takes a bite out of Easter.*

I had to put the bunnies even farther out of Charlotte's reach this year.  But it turns out I like them better here. 

Hat: Amazon; Blue flower: Claire's; Yellow flower: Capelli, ULTA

Candy-colored carousel.*

Charlotte's dress: Blueberi Boulevard, Macy's; Charlotte's hat: Cat & Jack, Target

"The Easter Edit" sounds sophisticated, doesn't it?  Like I'm going to Monday morning-quarterback-recommend designer fits you could've worn or gourmet meals you could've prepared.  But if you're a regular, then you know that that's not what this is.  (Also, that I prefer polyester to silk and JELL-O to crème brûlée.)  That said, I admit that my pics are brightened and curated (I'm an artist, not an animal!).  But they're by no means perfect -- and neither was the holiday.  I had my outbursts and Charlotte had hers, and then I had mine again.  So, the usual.  Nevertheless, we (and by we I mean the whole family) laughed a lot too.  Which is fitting for the sitcom that's become my life -- and the part that I choose to remember.

So here's to Easter madness and memories.

And the Peeps that make them so sweet.

*Didonato Family Fun Center the Saturday before Easter.  

Fashion Victim, but Make it Funny

What has JELL-O wrestling, purloined movie props, and "The Cat Who Saved a Toddler's Life"?  Why, Laura Levine's Murder Gets a Makeover, of course!  In this zaniest of Jaine Austen mysteries, Jaine reluctantly agrees to a makeover with a snarky LA stylist as a favor to her insufferable neighbor Lance.  Fashion maven Bebe Braddock is so condescending that she makes Anna Wintour look like Mrs. Claus.  So it's no surprise when she ends up strangled by a wire hanger (somewhere out there, Joan Crawford is cackling).  Unfortunately, Jaine is the prime suspect and goes into PI mode to clear her name.  But this time she isn't trying to catch just a killer.  She's also in hot pursuit of her beloved Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs tee shirt, which Bebe discarded during the ill-fated makeover. 

To crank up the crazy, Jaine's cat Prozac saves a boy from getting hit by a car, garnering her attention from the press and inflating her already huge feline ego.  Also, Bebe's fetus of an assistant is smitten with Jaine.  Unlike Bebe, he thinks her elastic waist pants are sexy and is only too happy to squire her around LA.  As if all of this isn't wacky enough, Levine sprinkles in emails from Jaine's parents, retirees who wreak havoc on their Florida retirement village (well, her dad wreaks havoc while her mother cringes).  The elder Austens are as delightful as they are eccentric, making it clear that the coconut doesn't fall far from the tree. 

Colorful characters, witty one-liners, and a self-deprecating heroine who is somehow as real as she is outrageous make Murder Gets a Makeover one wonderfully raucous ride.

No doubt about it, this caper is catnip to me.  

Mid-Century Modern Merry

Top: Candie's, Kohl's; Skirt: Almost Famous, Kohl's; Bag: Royal Monk, Modcloth; Brooch: The Tote Trove

Shoes: Nine West, Kohl's

Dress: Modcloth; Wrap: Macy's; Shoes: Mix No. 6, DSW; Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's; Earmuffs: Betsey Johnson for Trolls, Macy's

Ornaments: Wondershop, Target

Bag: T-Shirt & Jeans, Kohl's

Sometimes even I don't feel like getting dressed up -- or, quite frankly, getting out of my PJs.  And that's where the flat lay comes in!  Today seemed like a good time to do a few -- with a nod to mid-century-modern-merry-slash-nifty-fifties-Noel.  These girly styles make me think of a simpler time.  You know, before feminism, instant oatmeal, and the internet.

Maybe the fifties weren't quite so nifty.  

Now excuse me while I go make a JELL-O mold with leftover Christmas crab cakes.

20,000 Leagues Under the Twee: Here's Lookin' at You, Squid

I ordered this Nordic Ware octopus cake mold from Zulily years ago not because I like to bake but because it was cute.  What I didn't realize was that I could use it to make my beloved JELL-O, which the husband helpfully pointed out.  So when it came time to decide what to bring to my parents' Fourth of July BBQ, I thought, why not?  If nothing else, then at least the kids would get a kick out of it.

I decided to keep the mold intact until it was dessert time at the BBQ.  The plan was to unmold Mr. Octopus in the privacy of the kitchen, then bring him out once I knew that he wasn't missing a tentacle or, worse, just an amorphous heap of blue goo.  But that pipe dream went out the window when everyone gathered around, my five-year-old nephew and three-year-old niece front and center and eagerly waiting.  The husband made a valiant effort to shake the octopus from his cage, but that stubborn mollusk stayed put.  Time for a hot water bath!  While the husband sneaked off to the sink, I said, oh, he'll be coming out very soon!, fingers crossed that there'd be no mishaps followed by the inevitable crying.  But when the husband returned and flipped the mold, I heard the unmistakable glop signaling that all was well.   

"It's a sea monster!" exclaimed my niece.  "No, it's an octopus!" insisted my nephew.  Whatever it was, it made its wobbly way to the dessert table, where I garnished it with Swedish Fish.

Most of us sampled some topped with Reddi-Whip, along with my mom's flag cake and blueberry pie.    Even my mom herself, who hates anything artificial, gamely tried a spoonful or two.  Of course, she thought it tasted like bubble bath or little girls' perfume.  She wasn't entirely wrong.  

When it was time to schlep the leftovers into a bowl, I couldn't help but notice that the eyes were still eerily intact, haunting anyone who dared come back for seconds.

Cartoonish yet all-knowing, those pool blue peepers bring new meaning to seafood.

Ginger Snap Wrap

A few days before Thanksgiving, I found myself ordering a can of cranberry sauce from Target (I was making a JELL-O mold).  To complete the order, I had to spend thirty-five dollars, so I thought, why not stock up on Christmas wrapping supplies?  So I did, and the paper I was most excited about was this one exploding with gingerbread people.  Two days later, the cranberry sauce arrived with everything else -- except the gingerbread paper.  I tracked it, and the status came up as damaged.  I shrugged and figured it wasn't coming.  

Last week, I started wrapping with the paper I had.  That was another thing.  Unlike last year and the year before that, I was not waiting until the last minute.  Who needs to wrestle with Scotch tape and weirdly shaped packages with Krampus Rudolf's Type A dad breathing down her neck?  Not this girl.  I was going to take my time and carefully wrap and decorate each and every gift while cheesy Christmas movies played in the background.  And that's just what I did.  

A couple of days ago, I was nearing the end when a pole-shaped package arrived on my doorstep.  A few swipes with a scissors revealed my beloved -- and undamaged -- gingerbread people.  As far as Christmas miracles go, I know it's a weak one.  But I'll take it.  

On that note, I hope your wrapping is going gangbusters and that no anthropomorphic baked goods were harmed in the process.

Also, that you outrun Krampus.

Pieces of April, A Thanksgiving Staple

A few months ago, I watched an old movie -- and by old I mean from 2003 -- called Pieces of April.  It's about a girl, April (Katie Holmes), who invites her estranged family for Thanksgiving.  April has partly pink hair and an overall punky appearance and lives in a seedy apartment in New York City with her boyfriend Bobby (Derek Luke), who is black.  April doesn't really know how to cook, and then her oven breaks.  Also, Bobby has gone on a secret mission to borrow a suit to impress April's family, and it's not going well.  The movie shifts between April's endeavors and her family's strained conversation as they drive from Pennsylvania to see her.  We watch April bang on one apartment door after another to beg to borrow an oven, then listen as her mother (Patricia Clarkson) laments about April's awful ways even as she pukes up her guts at a rest stop.  It's from her chemo because she has cancer.  But being sick hasn't softened her, nor has the intervention of April's well-meaning father (Oliver Platt).  

Having a front-row seat to April's plight is unsettling.  It's hard to watch her put herself out there only to meet one obstacle after another, her Katie Holmes girl-next-door-appeal seeping through her tough exterior.  One of her "helpers" is played by a withering Sean Hayes; another is more kindly but disabuses her of the notion that the best cranberry sauce comes from a can. (I'm with April on this one; it's just not Thanksgiving without that JELL-O-like substance for smothering otherwise tasteless turkey.)  As April struggles to put dinner on the table, her family struggles with its reservations, at one point going so far as to throw in the dish towel and stop at a diner.  

For me, the low point is when April tears down her carefully handmade decorations.  There's something so vulnerable about them in their crepe paper homeliness, the way they expose and then shatter the optimism that April clings to despite the odds.  Because this movie takes all the tension that percolates within families during the holidays and puts them in a pressure cooker -- pun intended.  April's poverty, her mother's death sentence, and the stereotypes that April's family unfairly and inaccurately ascribes to Bobby deepen the fault lines that spread between them.  But these are also the reasons why they need to break bread together.  Pieces of April may not be Planes, Trains, and Automobiles or A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.  But in its own offbeat and, yes, dreary way, it tells us everything we need to know about this holiday.  

That said, it shouldn't come as a huge surprise that I'm breaking my quarantine again to have Thanksgiving dinner with my parents.  It'll just be the four of us, including the husband, but it's kind of ironic that I'm busting out now that the pandemic is surging again.  As recently as just a few weeks ago, I stayed firmly put, even opting out of my sister's birthday.  Everyone, the husband included, was beginning to worry about me and my refusal to engage with the outside world, however safely.  Then fate did its thing, and my work laptop broke, forcing me to go to the office to get it fixed.  It was a nail biter of an experience.  But I got through it -- with some humor, I like to think -- and learned that I'm stronger than I know.  The truth is, being an introvert/loner/whatever who's afraid of stuff means that I depend on my family a lot, even when I think I don't need anyone.  They're more than my family; they're my friends.  So I'm extremely thankful for them, on Thanksgiving and always.  

Okay, now that the serious stuff's over, it's time to explain what's up with this pie crust.  As you know, I don't like to cook or bake.  I find it boring, tedious, and, on some level, out to get me.  So, I'm all about the pre-prepared everything, and Pillsbury pie crust is no different.  It also happens to taste great -- a little salty, a little sweet -- and, in my opinion, is even better than the homemade kind.  So, I smashed it down into my pie plates and fluted the edges and didn't balk (too much) when the KitchenAid mixer-made pumpkin goop sloshed over the sides and obscured the crust completely.  Because holidays aren't about presentation (although I do have a mask to match my dress).  They're about being together.  Laughing and talking and wearing our masks when we're not shoveling in cranberry shaped like a can.

Whatever your plans, I wish you a very happy and healthy Thanksgiving.  And all the misshapen food you can eat.                             

Hello, JELL-O: I've Got a Bone to Pick With You

Fabulous Felt Gelatin Bowl Barrette

Top: Macy's

Skirt: Modcloth

Shoes: Cape Robin, Ami Clubwear

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

Purse charm: Staples

Red bangle: XOXO, ROSS 

Orange bangle: Mixit, JCPenney

Yellow bangle: Silver Linings

Green bangle: B Fabulous

Turquoise bracelet: Cloud Nine

Purple bracelet: Etsy

Soda Pop Shop Necklace

Shooting Star Earrings 

Blouse: Candie's, Kohl's
Top: Candie's, Kohl's
Shoes: Betsey Johnson, DSW
Bag: Luv Betsey, Boscov's
Orange belt: Marshalls
Chartreuse belt: Izod, Marshalls

Fabulous Felt Cherry Cheesecake Barrette

Top: Vylette, Kohl's

Skirt (a dress!): Ruby Rox, JCPenney

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Dancing Days by Banned, Modcloth

Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

Turquoise bracelet: Cloud Nine

Royal blue bracelet: So, Kohl's

Frosted blue bracelet: Burlington Coat Factory

I just finished reading JELL-O Girls, by Allie Rowbottom, and it was not at all what I expected.  

I guess I was hoping for some wholesome, nostalgic fluff fest about this kitschiest of treats.  Because I've always been a fan of JELL-O.  Not just for its artificially fruity flavor, but for its wild, crystalline colors and ability to suspend pieces of fruit -- or, if you dare, luncheon meats -- in midair.  Moreover, the very nature of JELL-O is playful.  It speaks of childhood and out-there yet unpretentious culinary creations.  But I should have known that I wasn't in Kansas anymore when I took a look at this book's cover.  It features a doll trapped inside an eerie red JELL-O mold under the endorsement: "A story of wild insights and deep music --Nick Flynn, Author of Another Bullshit Night in Suck City."  Alas, the truth was as clear as, well, gelatin.  JELL-O Girls would not go down easy.

JELL-O Girls is partly a history of the product, partly a biography of Rowbottom's mother, Mary.  Mary was the heiress to the JELL-O fortune, a distinction that ruined her life.  Not because she went around spending all the money and ending up bankrupt like MC Hammer.  But because, for her, JELL-O and its slimy, far-reaching tentacles equaled the evils of patriarchy.  (Damn you, books -- destroying everything that we love.)  Apparently, the JELL-O corporation (like all domestic enterprises) was run by men to profit from keeping women in the kitchen.  Rowbottom explores JELL-O's beginnings, starting with how her ancestor swindled the formula from its inventor at the end of the 1800s, then following its wiggly way through the twentieth century, from its multi-tiered reign in the 1950s to its sad slump into the current Wholefoods gilded age.  (To be fair, although most people now think of Jell-O as retro at best, tacky at worst, it wasn't always that way.  Back in the days of kings and queens, the dessert was considered a delicacy.  Kind of like white bread.  Which is also now pantry persona non grata.)  According to Rowbottom, not only is the stuff not nutritious, it's a symbol of women's oppression, and of the way they were forced to conform to the mold of the American housewife.  Who knew that something so sweet could be so deadly?  The horses, that's who.  JELL-O being made from -- among other things -- hooves.

Speaking of which (oppression, not hooves), back to Mary.  Mary is deeply troubled.  She loses her mother as a girl and spends her twenties in rehab.  She's violated by various men in her life and has her heart broken, and then, when it finally seems like she's found peace, she gets sick and never really recovers.  Curiously, she attributes this misfortune to the family curse.  Her cousin (not a good dude) once told her that the curse affects only the men.  But as the years unveil one dark chapter after another, Mary begins to see that he was wrong and that it's the women who suffer.  Rowbottom draws parallels between Mary and the women who endured the Salem witch trials.  She also notes similarities between her mom and the girls of LeRoy.  LeRoy, New York is Mary's and JELL-O's hometown, and around 2010, many of the girls who lived there began to report unusual body tics.  It's a mystery that not even science can solve.  Rather, the source of the girls' "hysteria" is the trauma of being female.  Of having to prove themselves day after day, of having to show that they're more than less than.

It's heavy stuff, an irony that Rowbottom is quick to point out in contrast to JELL-O's light, near-weightlessness.  It's also a little like this year's "Simpsons" Thanksgiving episode in which an amorphous cranberry sauce monster hunts children to satisfy its blood lust for bones.  Because it's, you know, made of them (see the above reference to hooves).  I found this disturbing, especially because I look forward to Turkey Day as a time to eat gobs of the sugary stuff shaped just like its ridged, cylindrical can.  No wonder that my parents once blacklisted Bart.

Cranberry sauce monster or not, Rowbottom tells Mary's story with sensitivity, courage, and love.  Her writing is beautiful and serves as a tribute to her unbreakable bond with her mother.  It must have been very difficult -- yet cathartic -- for her to write it.   

But enough gloom and doom.  Bring on the crafts.

Never one to judge my self worth from something I took from the oven (or, in this case, fridge), I made this Fabulous Felt Gelatin Bowl Barrette instead of something edible.  Although, if you're a goat, then that might not be true. 

So, am I going to stop eating JELL-O because it's a tool of The Man?  No, sirree -- I mean, ma'am.  If its alleged carcinogenic properties haven't scared me off, then a little misguided testosterone doesn't stand a chance.  Because JELL-O, like everything else in this world, is what you make it.  One person's sadness can be another's salvation.  Or at the very least, another's sorry-not-sorry guilty pleasure snack. 

No bones about it -- JELL-O is my jam.

The Goof is in the Pudding: Hip Hop Happy Easter

Green Pompom Bow Barrette

Dress: So, Kohl's

Shoes: Forever Link, Zulily

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Boscov's

Sunglasses: JCPenney

Necklaces: The Tote Trove

This isn't my Easter outfit.  This is:

And if you look very closely, you can see that I'm wearing last Easter's Fabulous Felt Ham Dinner Barrette (as a brooch) and one of my Pink Bopp rings:

 Fabulous Felt Ham Dinner Barrette

Pink Bopp Ring (the one on the right :)

Still, the pink pompom on my new Green Pompom Bow Barrette sort of says Peter Cottontail.  As for the feathers on my hat, well, they say something else.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Easter is my favorite holiday.  The food is fab, the outfits are spring sweet, and the world is just waking up.  All of which makes me more thankful than I am at Thanksgiving, when the celebration is centered on a big dead bird and the world's slipping into a coma.    

So, why do I think Easter eats are so yummy?  Um, ham and cheese please.  Also, chocolate.  Lots of it.  See Exhibit A, otherwise known as brownie trifle:

Now, you know I don't like to cook.  Which is why this dessert more or less came from a box.  First, the Betty Crocker brownie mix box, then the JELL-O pudding mix box.  Although the whipped cream, I'm happy to report, came fresh from a -- no, not cow -- carton.  But if it were up to me I wouldn't have used Betty Crocker.  I don't know if you know this, but Betty is a bad bitch.  And not in an empowering way, like Ruth Bader Ginsburg or Doctor Barbie.  But in a straight up what's-up-with this formula, lady? way.  Because Betty's brownies almost always come out dry.  Not like Duncan Hines's, which are always your moist delicious best (pause for trademark ding).  Is this a slight slam at feminism?  Maybe.  Also at ShopRite for being out of Duncan.  But batter doesn't lie.  Anyhoo, I did what I always do when I feel a dish -- or anything, for that matter -- is lacking, which is make it pretty.  And in this case, add Peeps.   

Here's hoping you have a very hoppy Easter with your peeps.  And when I say hoppy I'm just taking advantage of an easy pun.  I in no way endorse post-ham potato sack races.  Because I don't want anyone tripping and hitting his or her head and ending up in a coma.

Save that for Thanksgiving.  It needs it.     

Cornucopia Colors and Happy Thanksgiving

 Focal Feather Necklace

Dress: Almost Famous, Kohl's

Turtleneck: Zulily

Shoes: Penny Loves Kenny, Zulily

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Big blue bead bracelet: Cloud 9

Bangle and small blue bracelets: JCPenney

Beaded bracelet: Plymouth Plantation gift shop

Ring: Francesca's

Barrettes: The Tote Trove

You know how you look out at the horizon of fiery fall foliage and think, what this needs is a teal peacock feather?  Well, I had that same thought when I planned this year's Thanksgiving outfit.  As much as I loved my new floral goldenrod dress, I wanted to add the snap of cool blue for contrast.  So a peacock pendant it was, along with my trusty blue envelope clutch.  I don't have to tell you that I'd rather make accessories than side dishes.  I don't like to cook unless it's with something that comes from a box or can.  Partly because can product art can be pretty nifty.

What is it about pictures of food that say 1950s?  I refer, of course, to the classic foods of yore such as mac n' cheese, ham, casseroles, and anything made with JELL-O.  Not the sea salt-dusted kale and quinoa of today, which is about as picturesque as Walmart on Black Friday.

That said, whatever you wear or whatever you eat, I hope that everyone has a fancy feast and a happy Thanksgiving!

Because fancy isn't just for felines.  Me-wow.

Fins vs. Skins: Hipsters Don't Lie

 Fantastic Flipper Necklace

Fairy Fish Tale Necklace

Top: Decree, JCPenney

Skirt: Marilyn Monroe, Macy's

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Nordstrom

Scarf: A.C. Moore

Some years ago, I was at the Brigantine farmer's market with the husband, standing in line for mini doughnuts (just out of the fryer, they slid down this little metal chute that was the last word in cuteness), when I overheard a group of twentysomethings behind us talking.  They were extolling the virtues of salt water -- well, as much as anyone in a pork pie hat can extol anything -- saying how swimming in the ocean could clear up your skin.  As a lifelong acne sufferer, they had me at "clear."  So I was already listening when their conversation moved on to the market's offerings, one kid exclaiming, "Dude, they've got stuff here you never knew you wanted!"  I wanted to laugh -- or pull him aside and say, "Hey, I know where you can get some grade A JELL-O mold jewelry . . . "  But I did neither.  Instead, I enjoyed the silent, wise crack-rich commentary that only comes from eavesdropping.  And, of course, the not-so-silent part that came when the husband and I talked about it on the walk home.  

Still, it wasn't all fun and fried pastry.  Young Pork Pie was onto something when he alluded to the sea's peerless power.  Mysterious and bottomless, these waters wield a profound magic, the kind that has captivated sailors and storytellers for centuries.  Which is why I'm drawn to them and lived by them and made these here mermaidy necklaces.  (If Fantastic Flipper looks familiar, then that's because it's the fraternal twin of Whimsical Waters.)  Sparkly and blue, they're also ever-so-slightly old looking, which is just the right amount for wearable seaside souvenirs for people who've never left their couches.  

Finally, I can promise you that, unlike other stuff that comes from the ocean, no one has ever peed on these.

Not bad, huh?  Now if only they could get rid of pimples . . .