Channel Your Inner Cookie Monster With This Christmas Munchies Treasury Featuring My Tiny Blue Cookies and Milk Tote

Tiny Blue Cookies and Milk Tote

Whenever someone puts one of my pieces in a treasury, I always get that aw-someone-out-there-found-me feeling. (Don't laugh; if you're a fellow Etsian, then you know you get it too.) Anyway, I clicked through all the selections in an effort to boost this treasury's chances of appearing on Etsy's front page, as per usual. Here's the link if you're interested in doing the same.*

*Treasury deactivated.

Something New and Sparkly: Neck Candy Corsages!

Always Room for JELL-O Necklace

Hot for Dots Necklace

I took a detour from the world of fabulous felt (you may remember that I was slated to whip up some fluffy felt cupcakes) to explore the kingdom of cardboard. I have this plastic box overflowing with candy wrappers and empty snack boxes on a shelf in my craft room (casualties of an abandoned decoupage project) and thought, hey, why not use some of this stuff in my necklaces? I started with gelatin and gumdrops, two of my favorite desserts in both color and flavor, and am really excited about how they turned out. I think I may even wear the Hot for Dots one tomorrow.

Movie Moment: (Diagnosing) Love and Other Drugs

When I first saw the trailers for Love & Other Drugs, I thought, oh, another romance to put on my must-see list. Identifying a new flick as a romance or a comedy prevents me from being disappointed. But it doesn't leave a lot of room for surprises, either.

Then I saw Chelsea Handler interview Anne Hathaway about Love & Other Drugs and found out that Anne's character has stage one Parkinson's disease. That threw me (although in retrospect I should've realized she had an illness, given the movie's title). I thought, this could go one of two ways. It can be one of those movies about a guy in love with a sick girl. Or, it can be really good.

Let's just say I was surprised.

Anne Hathaway shines as Maggie, an unflinchingly honest artist who challenges Pfizer drug salesman Jamie (Jake Gyllenhaal), a playboy and chronic failure, at every step in their relationship, beginning at their first meeting in a Pittsburgh hospital exam room. (He catches a glimpse of her breast; she beats him over the head with her handbag, then snaps a Polaroid of him for an art project.) But they meet for coffee anyway, during the course of which Maggie erupts into a speech about why she, the woman, is supposed to reject Jamie's advances, all the while indicating that she does want to sleep with him via nonverbal cues. A little flummoxed but ultimately relieved, Jamie suggests that they just get on with it, which they do in the first of many unabashedly realistic sex scenes.

They talk. They fight. They have more sex. Before either of them knows what's happening, they fall in love.

We aren't always reminded of Maggie's condition. But sometimes (unrealistically timed with critical plot points, as one critic put it) we see her fingers trembling. I disagree with that critic, though. I think the trembling is selectively shown to signal that Maggie's spirit isn't bound by her Parkinson's. To me, the post powerful scene in the movie takes place when Jamie comes home during one of Maggie's particularly bad episodes. Maggie pours herself a generous drink and tells him about her terrible day, how the pharmacy was closed, even how she almost went home with a guy from the clinic. She doesn't look like herself either, a point she cuttingly mentions to Jamie in an attempt to scare him off. She's screaming, raging, utterly transformed from the charmingly awkward Anne we got to know in The Princess Diaries. Jamie leaves, only to return moments later after hearing her melt into hysterics over a dropped bottle. What makes this scene so heartbreaking is that we are as unprepared for it as Maggie and Jamie are, having been swept up along with them by their budding relationship.

Jamie lands Pfizer's coveted Viagra account, launching his career into the stratosphere. He takes Maggie to a pharmaceutical convention in Chicago, where someone notices her tremors and tells her about a Parkinson's convention across the street, where she can find out "what's really going on." She goes, connects with people who are going through everything she is, and texts Jamie to join her. He does, only to be waylaid by a man whose wife is a stage four sufferer. He unburdens himself about having to dress her and clean up her shit and tells Jamie to find himself a healthy girl. Then, as if stricken by his own honesty, he apologizes and walks away. You can tell that Jamie is troubled . . . and that he doesn't want to be. So, instead of distancing himself from Maggie and the inevitable crumbling of their relationship (as we suspect he is tempted to), he goes into overdrive trying to help her, dragging her to hospitals all over the country in search of better treatments. Maggie eventually snaps, declaring that he gets credit for his good guy act, but that it's over because she'd rather live her life then spend it hunting for a nonexistent cure.

They break up.

Jamie's career is better than ever. He beds industry bimbos and gets a promotion that requires him to move to Chicago. Then he runs into Maggie, who's on a date. And he realizes that everything in his life is wrong.

Fast forward to him speeding alongside her senior citizen-filled Canada-bound bus. So what if it's reminiscent of those cliched eleventh-hour airport movie scenes; everything comes into focus when he sticks his head out the window and calls out to her. The bus pulls over. She says she doesn't want to need him more than he needs her, but he says it's okay. Then we see them back in her loft in Pittsburgh and learn that Jamie's dropped out of the pharma rat race to return to medical school. Some may say it's a schmaltzy ending (such as the raucously laughing women sitting behind me who cackled, "'We're laughing and she's [yours truly] crying; what must she think of us?"), but I think it was perfect. Maggie didn't die and she didn't get better, and that's what made it realistic. Jamie's commitment to her proved that he wasn't a failure when it really counted, and that's what gave it its heart.

Well done.

Book Report: (Untangling) Sleeping Arrangements With Madeleine Wickham

It was with sheer pleasure that I delved into Sleeping Arrangements, by Madeleine Wickham, some weeks ago. The nice thing about reading familiar authors is that you always know what you're getting. True to form, Wickham delivered the beyond skin deep chick lit for which she is known, eschewing the cliched and predictable characters that often populate such fiction in favor of those that are multi-dimensional and sympathetic.

The premise of Sleeping Arrangements is that two families are invited to vacation at a mutual friend's villa at the same time without knowing it - and without knowing that some of them know each other. Chloe and Philip are unmarried and have two boys. Chloe's an artist-slash-dressmaker, and Philip is a banker in danger of losing his job. Hugh and Amanda are married with two girls. Hugh is a wealthy businessman, and Amanda is a stay-at-home mom. The story is set in exotic Spain, the ideal backdrop for the undoing of a group of straitlaced Brits. As one might predict, Hugh and Chloe have a romantic past, and despite their old hurts and hatreds, they end up in bed again. For added drama, Hugh turns out to be the head of the company that's responsible for Philip's imminent layoff.

A stock storyline would have Philip and Amanda cast as horrible people, making it all too easy for Hugh and Chloe to break ties with their current lives and pick up where they left off. Not so here. Wickham reveals the good and bad in each character, rendering each as realistic and worthy of the reader's concern. For example, Amanda is prickly and uptight, but she is also wholeheartedly devoted to her children. Philip is moody and distant due to his job situation but is a kind partner and involved father. Chloe is introduced as sweet and down-to-earth but is shown to be selfish and disloyal when she reunites with Hugh. Hugh is the classic workaholic, too wrapped up in his career to make time for his family. Of all the characters, he's the least complicated. But his affair with Chloe serves to change him as well, giving him a glimpse of what his life would be like without his wife and daughters.

A series of events reveals that the families' mutual friend, Gerard, double-booked the families on purpose. He was aware of the connection between Hugh and Philip and was amused by the idea of them vacationing together. But he did not know about Hugh and Chloe, a fact that is revealed only after they get together. The knowledge shames them, preventing them from blaming Gerard and forcing them to take responsibility for their own actions. They end up returning to their respective partners, ultimately realizing that they are just as different from each other as they were fifteen years ago, and therefore, incompatible.

Sleeping Arrangements presents a tale of order that deteriorates into chaos, facilitated by the marionette strings of a practical joker, only to have order restored at the end. It's a quick yet engaging read, and fans of chick lit (oh, how it pains me to use that descriptor) will enjoy it. I myself will most likely be moving on to The Gatecrasher, another Wickham yarn.

One Fried Cheeseburger, Please

The bf graciously took this shot of my fried cheeseburger with his cell phone. I apologize for the graininess that remains despite my most valiant photo editing efforts.

The bf and I were out to dinner with my parents last night, and when it was my turn to order, I still wasn't sure what I wanted. Feeling the pressure, I blurted out, "I'll have the fried cheeseburger, please," relying upon the sole menu offering that both intrigued and repelled me enough to stick out in my mind.

Now, to be clear, the burger itself wasn't fried, just the hunk of provolone cheese on top. (See that huge, gravy-covered thing that looks like a breaded chicken breast? That's the cheese.) The sandwich also boasted mushrooms, although I couldn't taste them, drowned out as they were by the meat and provolone.

In the end, I cut the burger down the middle and gave half to the bf -- no easy task, as gravy and cheese came cascading down onto my brand-new jeans. In return, he gave me half of his crabmeat-topped burger, which was admittedly better, partly because it was well-done, as mine should have been. (I have a distaste for even slightly pink hamburger and was guilty of whining, "Is this okay to eat?" several times during the meal. But that's another rant for another post.)

Was the fried cheeseburger all I'd hoped it would be? No, it was not. But I'm glad that I broadened my horizons by sampling it. Maybe at some point I'll muster the nerve to try a fried Twinkie.

Enter to Win a Necklace in The Tote Trove What I Gave Away Giveaway!

We've all been there. You're sorting through your closet, trying to get rid of things to make room for fresh new purchases. At first you're very careful, examining each garment and asking yourself all the crucial questions. "When's the last time I wore this?" "Does it still fit?" "Will that mustard stain ever come out?" But on your thirtieth piece or so, you start to get tired, and before you know it, you're indiscriminately tossing jeans, sweaters, and tees into a pile without a thought. It's weeks or even months later when you realize you desperately want to wear that blouse or belt you so cavalierly donated to the Salvation army.

My own most regrettable fashion castoff was a shiny purple faux leather handbag with a huge bow from Delia's. It was the perfect shade of bright amethyst, positively luminous against black skirts and jeans. I bought it the day I got my first real job. Not that it was expensive -- $25 at the most -- but it marked the advent of frivolous spending after a lean six months of job hunting.

Many of my most cherished erstwhile possessions boasted some degree of sparkle. So, in an admittedly illogical and somewhat gimmicky leap, I thought, why not donate a sparkly Tote Trove necklace to one lucky reader? The bauble in question is this never-before-posted Cool Mint Necklace. (Which, upon closer inspection, isn't all that sparkly. But what it lacks in flash it makes up for with a clean look that will appeal to more people than not. What other prize could be better?)

I created the Cool Mint Necklace by stringing glass beads and a round metal pendant along gold-tone wire. The necklace measures approximately 11.5" and closes with a lobster claw clasp. It makes a great stocking stuffer -- but would also be at home in your own jewelry box!

Entering the giveaway is simple. Just become a follower of this blog and leave a comment (with your email address) letting me know which fashion item you miss most. It can be a pair of loafers you ditched last week, your favorite plaid kilt from junior high, or a Cyndi Lauper wig you wore clubbing in the 1980s. Whatever it is, The Tote Trove wants to know about it! (If you're already a follower of this blog, then that's cool too. Just let me know in your comment.) Don't forget to include your email address, as this is how I'll contact the winner. The giveaway closes December 8 at midnight. I'll choose a winner at random and email him or her the next day.

Thanks for playing and good luck!

Jack Handey Quote of the Week

"Probably the earliest fly swatters were nothing more than some sort of striking surface attached to the end of a long stick."