Monthly Archives: July 2011

Cupcake Monthly: July

So, the only time I allow myself a blog title that’s not a song is for Cupcake Monthly. I’ll admit, I’ve missed a few months. I may have to start calling it Cupcake Quarterly though, since my plans for the future include reigning in my sweet tooth. Anyway, several weeks ago, our dear friends Dave (of Team Carpentry) and Abbie’s lovely son, Eli, had his first birthday. And I was enlisted to provide his first ever(!) cupcake.

read on…

I can make a change, I can start a fire…*

*Lyrics from Janelle Monae’s song Locked Inside from her album ArchAndroid. If you don’t already own this album, buy it. It’s incredible.

New things are happening all around us. Google+ just (soft) launched, we now have Spotify in the U.S., and now I have a place to hang my step stool. (I don’t see how those things don’t relate, so stop laughing.) Though not as exciting as new technology, Jeff and I managed to get excited about a mini-makeover of sorts on our basement stairway. Which I now call the kitchen closet.

read on…

It’s a low, low road you’ve gotta roll down before you find your way…*

*Lyrics from Grace Potter & the Nocturnals’ Low Road from their self-titled album.

I’ve said it before, and it’s still true: there is something inspiring about having teams of people at your house doing work that always makes me want to do more things. After Candy and the ladies (and gents) of Ladies Landscaping came to refresh our yard we determined that if we were ever going to stain the fence, now would be the time. Before any more plantings get put to bed, before the weather turned, while we had the vicarious energy boost from the Ladies’ day and a half microburst of yard beautification. It was time, and we got to it.

read on…

She’s like the wind, through my tree…*

*Lyrics from, well, if I have to tell you then you didn’t watch Dirty Dancing for three weeks straight when it played at the Calvin Theater in 1987. In which case, I can’t help you.

When we lost our beloved pup, Bec, we knew we wanted to bury her in the yard. It was where she was happiest, where she longed to be during all hours of the day, all times of the year, and where she took her last breath. She belongs to this place, if for no other reason than that she loved it, and we wanted her to remain here, even if we don’t. Of course I couldn’t stand the thought of actually digging a giant hole and chucking her into it, so we had her individually cremated. We also knew that we wanted to give her some sort of marked spot, so we’d know where she was, and be able to know she wouldn’t be accidentally dug up by any future owners. So we decided to plant a tree. A dogwood, because she was a dog, and one with pink blossoms because she was a girl. (My 8 year-old niece figured that rationale in seconds, so we knew it was the right choice.)

read on…

Hot in the city, hot in the city tonight…*

*Lyrics from Billy Idol’s Hot In The City.

Ok, so the lyrics are a cop out (even though that video is amazing). But it’s friggin’ hot out there! Brain = melted. So, in honor of summer’s full court press (or whatever expression makes you understand that summer is here, and she’s not taking no for an answer), I submit to you this recipe, as discovered in the lovely Canadian magazine House & Home.

Lavender Lemonade – makes about 6 adult sized glasses

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Don’t let this fading summer pass you by…*

*Lyrics from Neko Case’s “Magpie to the Morning on her album Middle Cyclone. Which is amazing, by the way.

Recently, whilst lamenting that there’s nothing worth buying in thrift stores, craigslist, or what have you in our less than cutting edge used furniture market (come on, locals, you know I’m not lying) I happened upon a listing that seemed too good to be true. Button-tufted swiveling barrel chairs in their original “gold” upholstery for $20. Total. Well, turns out the listing price was a mistake, and the listing was removed. Boo.

I moved on with my life, as anyone would, and was delighted to get an email about a week later from the seller saying that he was sorry for the confusion, and that the chairs were still available, but at a new price. $50 for the pair. Seriously. Where on earth can you find two upholstered chairs for $50, let alone ones that swivel? You can’t. Unless your local comrades decide they actually don’t like the mustard-olive (they saw it as gold) faux slub silk (polyester) fabric that’s still on them from the late 70’s. Well, I don’t like the fabric that much, either, but I don’t mind paying to have them reupholstered. (I say that now – check with me once I’ve actually gone through the process and am crying about how expensive my little craigslist chairs actually cost what new ones would.) read on…

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