As I mentioned, like, a month ago, I was able to go to Seattle for a family wedding. I must say that I have been completely blessed to have grown up with my cousins. So it was a HUGE treat to be there for my cousin's nuptials. She looked beautiful (as usual) and the groom, whom I met during the trip, seems like a stellar fellow. He knows some of my NYC acquaintaqnces so that boosts his coolness quota.
On to the pictures! The above photo is of the happy couple as they exited the Seattle Temple. I must say that the bride chose her gown perfectly. I am a huge fan of the tea-length dress (I aspire to have my own tea-length wedding dress one o' these days), but since the Seattle weather was abnormally scorching, she chose the breeziest option. Plus she looks fabulous. The groom looks quite dapper as well.

This little cutie belongs to another cousin of mine. At two years old, this solid angel is the life of the party. She was born after I moved to NYC, and I was very sad to miss it, and a little sad that she doesn't really know me, but she did warm up to me a little by the end of my visit.

The mother of the cute little tyke above is a fantastically creative person, (well, all my cousins are and I am sometimes envious of their abilities) and she is responsible for the gorgeous design for the reception. While looking at the forthcoming photos you must remember that the event took place at a church.

The reception was held at the first LDS church builidng in Seattle--which fortunately has a lovely courtyard--perfect for mingling.

My friend at the blog "Where Flowers Bloom" (totally tried to add a link, but failed) flew in from SLC to help out with the bouquet and flowers. I loved the combo of the orange and green flowers. It was bold and unexpected.

My talented mom was in charge of the food. She needed a cute apron, and I found this one at Anthropologie. I love that store. The menu included chicken salad on cream puffs, pulled pork sliders on homemade buns, a couscous salad, and a spinach salad. The popular beverage table was filled with fun bottled drinks: key lime soda, root beer, and Mexican Coke (for the cane sugar).

More pictures of flowers. (I could have arranged the pictures a little better, but I hadn't come up with the story flow when I downloaded the images.) Anywhoo. The bouquet. The bride actually had two, one to hold and one to throw. The one she tossed was actually a bundle of smaller bouquets (providing marital luck to several ladies). I even caught one. Stay tuned for news of my wedding! Or perhaps when I go out on a date...

I even loved the boutonierres. I am not sure if I spelled that right. (A B.A. in French, and what good is it?)

The candy bar. I made a few trips to this place. I had forgotten how good malt balls were.

Instead of a traditional white, towering cake, the happy couple chose a few of their favorite cakes to eat: pink champaigne cake, pistachio cake, carrot cake, Australian Lambingtons, and Jacob's Chocolate Cherry Cake. The Lambingtons were my favorite. They are the little square cakes that mildly reminded me of Hostess Snowballs, but a trillion times better. I love snowballs, so you can imagine how much I loved those little guys. The Lambingtons didn't have marshmallow or a creamy center; they were simply a cube of vanilla cake surrounded in chocolate and coated with coconut. So good.

I was actually responsible for making the Chocolate Cherry Cake. I was glad to put some of my skills to work at the celebration.

The last picture I have for you is a close up of the great little oragami lanterns my cousin made. When the sun went down, these tiny cheery little lights added extra ambiance to the already fabulous reception. Good job family! And another Congrats to the Bride and Groom. I swear, your gift will be in the mail soon.

There's No Place Like Home...Especially if That Place is Seattle.

Although living in New York has been a "dream come true" (please forgive the tired cliche), I would be lying if said I didn't miss the smell of the Puget Sound, the crisp morning air, and all the people I know who live in the Seattle area. So, you can imagine my glee when I had money and vacation days to visit "home" for my cousin's wedding. I filled my time as best I could with my favorite Washington State activities. I shared meals with two former co-workers; played trivia with my former trivia teammates; went shopping with my best friend at University Village; ate at Ooba's, swapped music with my best music-friend; ate Sunday dinner with my aunt, uncle and cousins; watched the Olympics with my closest friends; and had quality time at Pike Place market. Since I am not the best photographer (those genes went to my sister and cousin), I only have a few to share about the week.

Each morning I took a lovely walk in the mountains. Yes, mountains. For some reason when I lived in the Seattle area I didn't realize that the region was not just hilly--it was mountainous and absolutely gorgeous. My eyes and heart needed the reprieve from all the architecture. One morning on my walk I picked blackberries. Wild blackberries that were sweeter and juicier than the ones I have been purchasing here. Plus they were free.

New York has lots of nice farmer's markets, but I prefer Pike Place. NYC's so-called flower district as nothing on this place.

Luckily, tourist season keeps this place packed and lively. It is highly ironic that I now like this place packed with people. When I was little I was always afraid of getting lost in the throngs. I am pretty sure I gripped my dad's hand for dear life.

The best produce is in Washington state. Isn't it pretty? Well, except for the large, icky fungi.

I didn't get a chance to take a ferry ride either. Another ironic glimpse into my childhood: I didn't like ferry rides. At the time it wasn't a nice clean commuting aid; it was a place for wierdos to hang out.

I loved the piers when I was a kid. My favorite was the Trident Pier. It had a fun shop full with Asian imports. I liked the Japanese fans. The store is long gone now, and some tourist shop has sadly replaced it. If you have a hankering for fudge, saltwater taffy, or a Grey's Anatomy t-shirt while walking along the waterfront you will not have to search for long.

The Ye Olde Curiosity Shop is full of mummies, skeletons, and petrified stuff. I like the totem poles. I wonder if they are real or stolen like the ones in Pioneer Square.

I really looked forward to my lunch at Ivar's; I recommed their fish and chips to everyone who goes to visit Seattle. I was so incredibly disappointed. My fish was overcooked, small, and obnoxiously over-priced. I hereby unrecommend the place. Go to Anthony's instead. Or bypass seafood entirely and eat at the 5-Spot in Queen Ann. I had amazing pear hazlenut French toast.

I had to wait in a long line for my food because of the hordes of people receiving similar advice that I gave to eat at Ivar's. There were also a lot of well-fed seagulls milling about squaking for handouts.

That's pretty much it for my photos, but I hope it gives a little glimpse into why I like this place so darn much. (Obviously this blog post is meant more for my readers outside of the Evergreen State. Insiders already know.) Up next: the few wedding pics I took. But now I am going to sleep.

I Don't Mean to Brag...Well, Actually, I Do.

Last year about this time, I was fortunate to have a celebrity sighting practically everywhere I went. For some reason, it is still so exciting to see a famous person--even though we get them at the bakery all the time (Faye Dunaway came in today!!! And I got to talk to her!!!). For the most part I can remain pretty calm and collected...until Alan Alda came in last Saturday. I grew up watching M*A*S*H*, and even though I have seen every episode, I still enjoy the show. In fact, when I returned home from France and had no job I watched about four hours of M*A*S*H* everyday...to the point of having Hawkeye cameos in my dreams. When I recognized Alan Alda in the cupcake line my heart pounded loudly and my jaw hit the floor. It was Alan freakin' Alda!!! I couldn't help myself and I became that giddy fan, gushing about how much I enjoyed the tv show and won't my dad be excited to hear that I met Alan Alda....I was retarded and Mr. Alda was very polite to thank me and shake my hand. Don't worry, I didn't mention that he has showed up in my dreams. I am not that stupid.

I never liked the idea of going right up to a favorite celebrity and start gushing. I've always hoped for something more organic, like reaching for the same bottle of soy milk or sitting next to him/her on the subway. That's what I imagine for an ideal celebrity meeting. So Saturday's experience was a little embarrassing, along with the coolness of it. Fortunately, Sunday's celebrity sighting was so much better than I could ever imagine. Try this situation on for size:

Last Sunday, my roommate S and I took a trip to Williamstown, Massachussets for the Williamstown Theatre Festival. I know I am going to get a few lectures about Sabbath Day observance, so please let me continue by saying that we went to the festival to support a friend. Well, S's friend. My very talented roommate received her Master's degree in Drama Therapy at Kansas State> While there she met a girl named Megan (studying the same thing) who just so happens to be married to an up and coming playwright, Nathan Louis Jackson. (Variety Magazine calls him "one to watch.") Nathan, who is currently at Julliard, penned a play entitled Broke-ology that was entered into the Williamstown Theatre Festival. This is a big deal. The WTF is like the Cannes Film Festival or Sundance of theatre, and after showing at the festival, Nathan's play could very likely get picked up by a theatre company and show on Broadway in the next couple of years.

Despite all that coolness, I had another reason for accompanying my roommate to the Birkshires...the play starred Gaius Charles, who also plays Smash Williams in Friday Night Lights. Maybe you recall me dedicating an entire blog entry to the show. (Are you watching yet?) For S, Smash's appearance was just icing on the cake; she's a fan of the show as well. So we bought our tickets, rented a car, and planned our trip to Williamstown.

We used my credit card to rent the car, so that meant I had to drive. In New York City. I was actually hoping I would never have to drive here. It is scary. People honk and run red lights, and I gripped that steering wheel tightly.

Keeping my eyes on the road, S, her friend, and I made it out of the city in one piece.

The trip to Williamstown is four hours of lush green scenery dotted with charming villages and idyllic farmhouses. We even came across a little touristy country store that sold fudge and turtle candies the size of my hand. You better believe I bought one. Since I haven't driven for a long time, my body was a little sore and tired from driving. I was very happy to see this sign:

The play was beautiful. The story involves a family (a widower and his two sons) dealing with the issues being stuck in a bad Kansas City neighborhood. One son went away to school, and is afraid to get stuck, his brother stuck facing a bleak future of going nowhere, and the father, dealing with MS, regrets never helping his family have a better life. Throughout the play, Nathan wove rules to the game of dominoes throughout the themes of the play. It was warm, touching, and also pretty funny. I enjoyed it immensely.

After the show, Nathan (above) and his wife (below) invited us over to the place they are staying to hang out with the cast. Oh yes, the whole cast, including Gaius Charles. This was cool enough, but the other cast members were just as cool.

Playing the father was Wendell Pierce. Now, I cannot pinpoint where I've seen him, but he has an extensive resume including films such as The Fighting Temptations, Malcom X and Ray, as well as appearances on Law & Order, In Plain Sight, plus he had a recurring role on HBO's critically acclaimed The Wire. He was seriously the most down-to-earth person. I would never guess that he was a Julliard-graduate actor if I saw him on the subway. S and I clicked with him right away. He even showed Sarah how to play bones, er dominos. His friends were pretty cool too. Joining him was a graphic artist by the name of Powell, and Ricky a jazz musician who plays in Wynton Marselis' band.

S and I told ourselves we will allow ourselves five minutes of dorkiness over Gaius, but after that we would have to be cool, calm and collected. While eating our pizza, S got Gauis' attention to let him know that we were fans of the show. I told him that he was the reason I came up to watch the play. Sadly, he couldn't spill any secrets about the show, but that's fine; it's better to be surprised anyway. We did talk about Seattle, bakeries (and my goals to open a bakery), talk show hosting (S's aspirations) and how he needs to take time to play...by going to Seattle. It was so cool. When I asked him about living in Austin, TX (where FNL is filmed) he told me I looked like an Austin-ite. It's a total compliment. He even asked me about my decision to become a vegetarian. He is not like the cocky football star character he plays on Friday Night Lights. Not that that would be a bad thing. It just shows that he is a good actor. He's a working one as well. Not only did he do this play during his FNL hiatus, he also worked on two indie films. (This is why he needs to take a break and play.)

After some good chitchat and a couple games of bones, Gaius took us to Lickety Split, Williamstown's ice cream parlour. I don't eat much dairy anymore, but for blackberry-flavored ice cream I will deal with a tummy ache. It is just one of the things you do to hang out with Gauis Charles...and Wendell Pierce...and an artist named Powell...and Ricky the jazz musician...and up-and-coming-playwright Nathan Louis Jackson.

(L to R: Gaius, S, Wendell, S's friend--who slyly got Gaius' email address. It helps that she had no idea who he was--yours truly, and Ricky.)

We did have to pay the piper, so to speak, for breaking the Sabbath. We got a parking ticket on the rental car after circling for a very long time to find a place. Although the ticket was $165, it is a small price to pay for the Best Celebrity Experience. Ever.

Big Sigh

Fabian Cancellara of Switzerland, World Time Trial Champion (in cycling, obviously), is hot, fast and fabulous. I think I'm in love.

Best of luck to you in this year's year Tour de France...also known as the Best Sporting Event in the World.

A Tale of Two Oglings

Two weeks ago I spent a lovely Monday exploring the Lower East Side (LES)with one of my friends. As we were eating lunch at Clinton St. Baking Company, my friend mentioned that the LES has a non-fancy lingirie store where a little old lady picks out a perfect bra just by looking at the customer's chest. Intrigued, I said we needed to find it since I desperately needed a new brassiere. Seriously. The one I was wearing on that day was an old one that I purchased from Victoria Secret about four years ago. And I think we all know that Vicky's bras are not made to last that long--epecially since they aren't meant to be worn for more than two hours at a time. This particular one was too big and had no elasticity.

This spontaneous bra-shopping excursion was meant to be because it did not take us long to find the little, unassuming lingirie shop. The store was filled with shelves full of long, thin boxes holding all types of women's underpinnings. I am sure there was some sort of organizational system, but it was unclear to the untrained eye. With all the clutter and the flourescent lighting, it was hard to realize that this was a place to get the perfect bra. I looked for a little old lady, but only saw a middle-aged African-American woman and an older, fat, Orthodox Jew...man. He asked what I needed, and I said that I would like to buy a new bra. I thought he was going to call for some unseen granmotherly-type woman hiding behind the curtain, but instead he asked me to remove my over-the-shoulder-strapped bag and proceeded to stare at my chest and and ask me questions about my cup size. It was very odd. Orthodox Jews are not allowed to even touch members of the opposite sex except the person to whom they are married, but somehow it was perfectly all right for this particular Orthodox Jew to stare at my bosom.

He picked out one bra but it was a little too big. (The middle-aged African-Amercan helped with the fitting, naturally.) The next bra, however, was perfect. Absolutely, 100% perfect. I noticed that the brand he chose was, Wacoal, a brand that costs about $50-$70 at department stores like Lord & Taylor's. Since I don't have that disposable income quite yet, I was concerned about handing over my debit card. But I sucked it up--after all, it fit so well. (I even wore it out of the store.) But when ringing up my total the Orthodox Jew announced that the grand total was $22.00. See, even more perfect. The first garbage can I saw, I ceremoniously threw out that old Victoria Secret bra. (Just so you know...I do have newer bras than that Vicky bra.)

My friend and I left the shop smirking and I stated that the experience was the first time I wasn't creeped out after a guy totally stared at my chest. It happens more than I care to admit, and probably happens more than I am aware of (thankfully). But there are some guys who are just so blatant about their staring problems.

Case in point: About an hour later, my friend and I were hankering for a pickle. It is a little odd to crave a pickle, but we were hanging out in the pickle neighborhood. We found one, but after smelling that strong smell of vinegar neither of us wanted a pickle. (Plus we were probably full from the gelato/sorbet we had eaten.) One of the male workers asked if he could help us, and my friend replied that we were just enjoying the view. Then he quipped that he was also "enjoying the view" as he looked us up and down. Ugh. Creepy. We left post-haste. However, now that I think of it, he probably would not have enjoyed the view nearly as much if I was still wearing that awful Victoria Secret bra.

Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose!
Last year, about this time, I took a lovely trip to Texas to fete the marraige of my lovely cousin. (Happy anniversary C&C!) You may recall in my post about the trip that I love Texas, and I often think about heading straight to Austin when I'm done with this city. I wanted to go back to Texas this year, but with a limited income and no vacation days I had to stay here. However, I did manage to get to Texas another way--via a marathon of Friday Night Lights episodes on Hulu.com.

After watching two entire seasons of the critically-acclaimed football drama, I have just one question for you: WHY AREN'T YOU WATCHING THIS SHOW? It has to be the best show on television, and if you can only choose one drama with which to devote your limited tv time, this is the one to watch.

Oh, I know what you're thinking: I hate football or I hate teen dramas, so please allow me to refute your arguments. First of all, I hate football. I don't follow it, and I only watch the Superbowl for the food. I also don't care for teen dramas. I've never seen an episode of The OC and I make fun of the others.

FNL is just different. Basically, the show is about a fictional high school football team, the Dillon Panthers, in a small Texas town with a strong football tradition. While the tv show is fiction, it is inspired by Odessa, Texas' Permian Panthers--the subject of the book and film, Friday Night Lights. (Yes, I am currently reading the book.) In the late 80's, when the book was written, the Permian Panthers had the best record in the nation, including college and professional teams. The book not only explores the team's success in the stadium, but also the town's devotion to them and the dramas of high school students growing up in small-town Texas. The show does the same thing.

While shows like One Tree Hill may have their "very special episode" about racism, drugs and teen sex, they lack the authenticity behind FNL's handling of those types of storylines. I am not sure how their formula works, but I suppose it is because the characters are not spoiled, rich kids who are aspiring fashion designers or have other posh goals, with the token minority and geek. The teens of FNL range from Applebee's waitress, born-again Christian, smart kid, parapalegic, and the kid who takes care of his grandma with Alzheimer's because his dad is in Iraq. Sure, all the kids are pretty, and a handful of them are football stars, but I never feel a lack of sincerity when exploring tougher storylines. It could be the cinematography. No soft lights and still cameras here. The filming style of the handheld cameras help show a peek into the lives of Dillon residents, instead of staged representations of the issues.

Another aspect of the show that I appreciate is the parents. This show has "real parents"--parents who don't try to be their kids' best friends, parent who act (and are) smarter than their teenage kids, and most importantly, they are parents who aren't afraid to discipline--even when it could make a relationship with a child a little chilly. (Disclaimer: there are a few bad parents on the show, but main characters Coach and Tammy Taylor are examples of good parenting. "Smash" Williams' mom is another fine example.)

I actually like the football on this show. I even stood up and cheered when Santiago smashed into the opposing team's QB. Someone once suggested that I enjoy Dillon Panther football because I have become friends with members of the team. This is probably true, although I hate thinking that I have a relationship with people on TV. It makes me feel like a recluse.

Friday Night Lights is good tv. It is smart tv, and I think you should all watch it. The third season starts this fall and you have plenty of time to catch up on past episodes through Hulu.com and NBC.com.

If you need one more reason, check out the following picture of QB1 Matt Saracen (brilliantly played by Zach Guilford). Isn't he reason enough?

Crazy Eye, Stink Eye...Pink Eye

As I was quickly downing my cold chili lunch today at The Bakery, a manager asked how my day was going, paused, and asked if I was okay. Confused, I said that I was fine, and she then asked me why my eye was all blood-shot. I had no answer, but I suspected the dreaded pink eye. While this condition has not been confirmed by a medical professional, my eye is pink, goopy, and feels kinda funny. Since I work with food, this isn't a good thing. But at least I get to take some time off.

But that's the trouble with pink eye. Sure, the eye looks a little wonky, but I feel fine and would like to go out and play. Or go to a baseball game like I wanted to do tonight. However, no one wants me around. The girls at Anthropologie won't want me touching their pretty clothes, grocery stores don't want me hanging around the produce, and no one wants me on the subway...which is probably where I picked up this little infection of mine in the first place.

Your Sixth Drink? You Lush!

So about three weeks ago or so, I had my fancy schmancy birthday mocktail party. Let me begin by saying that it was a blast for many reasons. First of all, people came. Secondly, people dressed up. Thirdly, they drank.

H was the champion drinker; her goal was to try every drink we offered. It was a tall order since the menu consisted of the following teetotaller beverages: appletinis, mai tais, lemon drops, tequila-less sunrise, sangria, passionfruit mojitos, margaritas, pina coladas, and anything that goes well with an olive. Come to think of, I think I finished off that list.
Here I am with two of my roommates as we show-off the beverages. You will note that we are all wearing black dresses. We recommended to our guests that they show up in cocktail attire (it was a cocktail party after all). Thus the LBD (Little Black Dress, for the non-fashionably inclined) was in full force, but some people showed up in much brighter colors.
This picture unfortunately did not capture this guest's bright blue tights. My roommate bought the pink cocktail shaker for the party. It was a very wise investment. She figured that if the party was a success we would do mocktail party sequels, and we would need a shaker.

I was really greatful for the turnout. It made me so happy to be surrounded by friends, and it made me feel that I actually had a place in this huge, bustling city which like a pinball machine seems to constantly push me in frantic directions. So enjoy some pictures of guests...or people that help me feel more settled.

I am proud of this brave married couple who joined fun, mingling with a crowd of singles.
The girl on the right helped me make sugar cookies. She came over in the nick of time. I spent all day prearing the mini-tarts, cheese puffs, and other treats, but I didn't give myself too much time to shower and look presentable. Thanks to her help, I looked pretty good that night.
My roommates proved mighty helpful that night as well, mixing drinks and replenishing the food that everyone seemed to enjoy.

We had a very fashionable crowd.

And despite all the LBDs, the only matching outfits were these two fellows. If you look closely, you will see how exactly matched they were...except for the black jacket.
This is actually a rather dorky picture of me. I am biting a maraschino cherry and not at looking seductive while doing so. That was the plan. I was trying to recreate that iconic Breakfast at Tiffany's image of Audrey in that Givenchy black dress, the pearls, and smoking a cigarette on a long holder. This was my modern take: my Banana Republic black dress, black pearls....and a maraschino cherry.

The appletinis, that my roommate is holding, was the hit of the evening. Someone stated that it was like drinking a green apple Jolly Rancher. The Tequila-less Sunrise was the second-most popular drink.

A lot people took pictures, and they are probably better than mine; they just haven't been forwarded to me yet. Hint, hint. I got tired of posing for photos like the one above. But check out the girl on the right. It's not a super-detailed photo, so I will have to tell you that the eyelashes and most of the hair were not her own. That was total mocktail party commitment.

And that is the aftermath. We left the cleanup to the one roommate who didn't make it to the party. Don't worry, she volunteered.

I had a great time, but more importantly it appeared that everyone had a great time as well. So good that you may read future posts at the phenomenal New York event: Mocktail Sundays.

Morsels from the Bakery

A lot of people ask me about my job, so I thought I would take this opportunity to share some goings on at the Bakery.

1. I am glad that I get to ice cakes because it means that I have less contact with our customers, also known as The Most Spoiled People on the Planet. I still have to answer some of their queries, like "don't you have anything without sugar" (umm...NO!) or "can you get me that cupcake in the case that is completely out of reach because it is purple and has a flower on it?" I hate the last question the most. The Bakery is known around town for letting customers choose the cupcake they desire and then putting their chosen treat in their own box. In the original store this works out rather well. The cupcakes are placed on a table, and people pick from the ones on the trays and don't say a peep about it. In the Upper West Side, however, it doesn't work as well. We place our open trays of cupcakes on top of a case where customers can see the other cupcakes and so if the only pink ones available has blue sprinkles and they want a pink one with green sprinkles, they will point and say that they "have to have that one." It does not matter if all the buttercream is vanilla flavored, or if the sprinkles really have no flavor whatsoever, these customers demand the out of reach cupcake. (Sometimes they erroneously believe that the ones on the bottom shelf are fresher. Sorry kids, the cakes and frostings were all made at the same time.) Sometimes when they ask, "Can you get me the purple one on the second shelf?" I want to say, "Can you be a grown-up and choose one from the ones placed before?" Sometimes I wish we only made one color of frosting with one type of sprinkle so we wouldn't have to deal with their whininess. I think that would be considered cupcake communism.

2. Another thing I would like to say to the people of the Upper West Side: Red Velvet cupcakes are not one of your unalienable rights. If we don't have them when you come in, don't complain, just suck it up and get a slice of cake.

3. The Bakery sees a lot of photographers and photo shoots. Recently we had a shoot with The Owner and three top-rated chefs, including Daniel Boulud. I didn't realize how cool that was at the time; I was more concerned about stepping over tripods while carrying cakes. Anyway, Daniel Boulud is a 4-Star chef who is a bigger name that Anthony Bourdain in the biz. He owns a gaggle of $25o/plate restaurants, writes for Epicurean Magazine and was in that Queen Latifah movie, The Last Holiday. Don't be ashamed if you didn't know this tidbit of knowledge, I found out after I met him. During a quick photo break, he watched me ice a cake, asked a few questions, and suggested doing a "stage" (or mini-internship) to learn how to ice cakes. Of course I agreed, although I knew he was joshing. One of the managers asked if I knew who he was, I pretended that I did. One of coworkers clued me in later.

4. Our Bakery is now Kosher, which is a really good idea for an Upper West Side location with its large Jewish population. We didn't have to change too much on our menu, but we now no longer make the IceBox Cake since the chocolate wafers are not kosher. Have no fear, I still know how to make it.

Here's a little lesson about going to stake conference. I went to mine in April and heard many talks about being charitable and servie-oriented. After it was all over I ran into a friend who is a fellow new-music lover. She informed me that one of my new music obsessions, She & Him, was going to be in town on the upcoming Tuesday. With much elation and probably some jumping up and down I decided that I would splurge and make an appearance at the show. Of course tickets were sold out, but I was extra nice and servicable to customers that day so good karma would smile on me and provide me with a ticket. (I saw sold out Bon Iver for free in February because some guy had an extra ticket.) I nearly succombed to a scalper, but luckily another random guy needed to get rid of a ticket.

Let me give you a background on She & him because you may not have heard me chatter on about this group..or you didn't get to go to South By Southwest...or you don't have a subscription to Entertainment Weekly...or you don't listen to All Songs Considered. Well, She & Him is the charming little project from stellar music producer M.Ward and indie actress Zooey Deschanel. In fact, you may have heard her sing before, if you saw the movie, Elf. She has an amazing amazing amazing voice, and she almosts channels Patsy Cline. M.Ward isn't too shabby either, and after Tuesday, he has pretty much replaced Gary Lightbody as my rockstar crush. (Gary, you still have a chance. All you need to do is go to the bakery, toss me a wink, smile and possibly your phone number and you will be back on the top of the list.)

The concert was a blast considering Zooey was dealing with some laryngitis. She still sang solidly, but she didn't talk to the audience. Instead she would hold up signs with phrases normally heard from the band frontman like, "Hello New York!" or "You All Look Great!" or "Thank You!" It was rather delightful in sign-form. I was too far away to take decent pictures, and my camera battery died. Instead, thanks to the invention of YouTube, I have supplied you with clips from the show: 1. "Why Do You Let Me Stay Here" - my favorite and 2. "You Really Got a Hold on Me" or "How M.Ward Usurped Gary Lightbody as My Rockstar Crush."





Oh yeah, those lessons learned? Go to stake conference and you will hear about rock concerts. Be nice and helpful to others and someone will sell you a ticket to a sold out show. Or something like that.

It's Birthday Time!!

So today is my birthday; I am 32 years old now. I am not too sure about claiming such a large number...especially since I could pass for a college student. (I LOVE the surprised look on people's faces when I reveal my age.) But so it is that I am a year older. So far the birthday celebrations have been pretty fun (fyi, I tend to spend several days fete-ing the day of my birth). Last night I went tango dancing at the fanciest YMCA I have ever seen...seriously this place had a dance room with some lovely light fixtures. (How that equates to "fancy" is probably a bit of a stretch, but humor me.) I danced with a lot of older gentleman (senior citizens, to be exact. But at my extreme age maybe I should get used to my partners), but some of them actually danced quite well. I had an interesting experience when I danced with a guy who, at a slight distance, was the spitting image of my dad. He was a great deal shorter, however. I even learned a bit of Milonga, an Argentine dance like tango but with a faster rhythm.

Tonight I made some dinner for my roommates and friend, Sarah, and afterwards we watched Roman Holiday. Since it is Audrey Hepburn's birthday as well, I thought it best to watch one of her films--it also happens to be a favorite of mine. I love this movie, even though at the end I heave a sad sigh that I cannot run off to Rome for a frolicking good time with Gregory Peck. Maybe "frolick" isn't the best word choice. You know what I mean.

The fun will continue on Saturday with a fun Breakfast at Tiffany's-esque mocktail party. It should be a good time, and I will post pictures and details. I expect you see a little Audrey Hepburn theme running through the birthday celebrations. That's just how I roll. (I even dressed at beatnik Audrey from Funny Face for a friend's sock-hop themed birthday party Friday night). This beautiful actress has been quite the fashion-icon for me, so it should be no surprise to the masses that I choose her or her work as my inspiration for stuff. One of these days I may surprise you all and do a Dolly Parton-themed shindig.

Anyway, that's my birthday in a nutshell. Soon I will post something a bit more poignant discussing how I really feel about being 32.