Inheriting the Wind

It's been a while, kids. First I fell into a blogger slump where I didn't have anything to say (not that I ever have anything to say, really, but I digress). Then I went home to California for the holidays (photos to come).

But now I'm back in DC, and reeling with the joy that was 2008. This year was good to me. However, this morning I heard a crashing noise and went to the window to investigate. As a tumultuous end to a fabulous twelve months, the out-of-control wind that's ripping through the city on this last day of the year uprooted a tree right outside my building.

The view from my front door.

All things considered, this was the ideal treefall. It didn't hit the building, passing pedestrians, parked cars (including the White Rabbit's car, which was parked a mere two feet away from the tree in its upright position -- miraculous!), nor did it fall into the street. In fact, thirty minutes ago the city of Washington had already dispatched a truck to my house, and the workmen were revving up chainsaws. The whole mess is already gone.

The view from the White Rabbit's car.

Yep, 2008 is out with a bang.

Family Resemblance

My boyfriend (who, for the sake of continuity with my previous Wonderland-themed blog format, will henceforth be known as the White Rabbit... enter a weak parallel of how I find his bespectacled self extraordinarily intriguing, and how I like to go where he goes, and how this name is being bestowed upon him despite his exceptional punctuality, and HOW DID THIS PARENTHETICAL GET SO LONG?)...

Where was I? Oh yeah, last Saturday the White Rabbit came back to DC from spending Thanksgiving with his family, and he brought with him a handknitted scarf made by his grandma -- for me. For me! And it's darling, shaped like a Florida gator:


I knew it looked familiar, but why? Then I finally put it together -- he recently posted about how he cannot draw, save from a single, famed sketch:


Uncanny.

Blue Screen of Death

Oh, FUCK.

Sweet Potato Pie

Anyone who knows me knows that I love to cook and bake, especially when I can do so for other people. I also, if I may be honest, like making things that make me look like hot shit in the kitchen. Things like the manchego-stuffed bacon-wrapped dates I made for my own birthday party this year, which caused many a partygoer to straight-up swoon.

Cut to me making my own pie crust. Many people do this, so it's not that impressive to some. But my mom taught me to bake early on, when I got to stir things and lick the batter off of the KitchenAid beater -- and pies were not something she made. She insisted she never got the hang of homemade crusts, so I had never tried until last year, with so-so results.

But this year's crust was a success of epic proportions, and although I owe this mainly to my food processor, I like to think my mad kitchen skills left their mark as well. In the form of a handcut fall leaf decoration I sliced out of rolled-out scraps.