Creative juices

The creative juices. They've been flowing lately.

Just LOOK at what my SIL made for me! Isn’t it just dreamy? She makes all kinds of fantastic thingamabobs. I can not only recommend her talent/brain because she’s an artsy genius, but because I like her, too.



You can find more of her dazzling creations here.

I mean, wasn't it Gwenyth Paltrow who declared "Headbands are the new bangs?"

I recently had a hankering for a sewing project. Maybe it was being turned down from graduate school. Maybe it was the fact that the beautiful sewing machine Harry received over a year ago for his birthday had been sitting below our entry way table for 8 months. Maybe it’s also the fact that my brother’s homecoming lead to another Eaton family picture and I wanted something exactly fit to my specifications. Whatever it was, I made



A dress! It was a good warm-up project for me, considering I hadn’t sewn anything in a year. There was no zipper/pleating/waist seam/sleeves; it’s basically a glorified tunic with a belt. And I loved making it. It was the thing I was obsessed with over Memorial Day weekend. Harry sat next to me the entire time, buried in law books for finals while I stitched away, and occasionally helped me pin and tailor it. The fabric and pattern were ridiculously marked down, and they were exactly what I wanted. The dress even has pockets! I need pockets in my life. Pockets are what enable me to sneak treats and candies into movie theaters, and these ones are big enough for a phone and camera and keys.

Pockets are the new purse.

When I brought the fabric home, Harry said, “Oh… you’re making a black dress?”

I said, “Yeah. Why?” He just smiled and said, “Nothing.”

I wondered about that for a day or two. It occurred to me the other day why he thought it was so interesting. I’m fairly certain I have a subconscious fetish for black dresses. I counted in my head that I now have in my possession (note: these are a mish mash of hand-me-downs, clothing swap finds, dresses sewn by my mom, and the occasional purchase) eight black dresses. Yes. EIGHT. All different cuts and styles and materials.

Oh, come on. Black is the new black.

View from our car today + I heart Dads.

We drove on this today to see off my darling darling McOmber cousin of love on his mission to Denver, Colorado. At McOmber gatherings, we giggle, we hug, we love each other, and we all vocalize how wish we all lived on the same block. I always come away from time like that feeling really lucky to have extended family that makes me feel like we're welding our own link in a family chain that has been made up of people I really love and respect.

Which brings me to something else. We have both been blessed with Dads who have sacrificed for us to give us good lives. They are hard working, kind, loving, smart, witty, righteous, and both have a particularly strong knack for whipping up delicious dishes in the kitchen. So thank you, Dads. You are the bizzle and we love you.

Home again home again, jiggity jig!

Cam is home again. Behold the proof.

Note: When your sister owns a fantastic camera and an equally fantastic set of photog skills, you let her/her husband snap the photos, and then sneak them from facebook onto your blog. Yep. That's how I roll.

Further note: I did not cry uncontrollably or jump up and down raucously, nor did I attempt a cartwheel when Cam came down the escalator at the airport (good thing too about the cartwheel, because I was in a dress). I just kind of stayed within 3 feet of him at all times.



Waiting at the escalator for him to get off his plane already.



And there he is!



Bros.



Water park in Ladera Ranch. The enormous bucket would fill every few minutes and dump on us. Epic.



The most darling muffins del mundo.



Typical weight lifting exercises.



Take one (a most perfect time to give Dad a head scratch).



Take two (sneaky Kris).



Charter members.



The clan.

To quote Wes Cunningham, "I've got a good good feeling."

Coming soon to a blog near you.

My brother is home from his two year mission. All is right with the world. Pictures bubbling over with exuberant family members are forthcoming.

I heart family.

24 lit candles stuck in a baked good = fire hazard.

I'm 24 now.

This year, I had a delicious birthday.

At work I was given a mini chocolate cake and a card, and my boss dazzled me with his vocal stylings of "Happy Birthday." My darling Aunt who lives close by made me my own PERSONAL (I'm not sharing. So forget about it) brownie cake complete with 2 birthday candles (because 24 is divisible by 2, and I think the fire marshall would take issue with me fanning the flames of 24 lit candles with my huffs and puffs), which Harry lit and I blew out before taking a bite.





Of course, the fam (Eatonians and Reynoldsies alike) called and sang their best renditions too, which I completely loved! I heard from friends and pals and felt so cuddled and loved.

Then Harry took me out on the tizz-own. We ate at the most divine Greek restaurant in the peninsula. We had lamb chops, grilled sea bream, zuchinni balls with mint yogurt and cucumber, and vanilla-custard-filled-crispy-phyllo and pistachio ice cream. All I can say is (drooooooooool).

We topped off the evening with Harry Potter 6 (well, half of it-- birthdays are so exhausting).

Birthdays with Harry are so choice. He really is dreamy.

Things I learned concerning birthdays this year:

1) Treat yourself to a lunch of frozen yogurt with your topping of choice and sit in your car listening to a book tape while you eat it. It's birthday heaven.

2) Married birthdays are a lot of fun because you don't have to wait for your date to come pick you up.

3) On your birthday, don't tell the waiter you don't need to see the dessert menu because you're too full, because he'll awkwardly look at your spouse and say, "Oh, uh, well, since it's you're birthday, we're kind of bringing our favorite dessert out anyway." In the words of a wise woman, "Calories don't count on your birthday." Just plan on dessert.

That is all.

A poor woman's version of plastic surgery

A hair cut and new glasses.



Oooh, I feel just like Heidi Montag!

[And yes, that is Harry in the background putting away groceries. Because he's wonderful.]

Happy Friday!

Eatons.

Per my Dad's request, “The Godfather” was aired with astounding regularity at my house ever since I was a child. It taught me many important things about life from a young age. Namely, don’t marry a guy who beats you, or your brother will have to reciprocate by beating him to a pulp in the streets while children play in a spouting fire hydrant. Also, if you stick your hand in your jacket pocket just so, your father’s enemies just might not try to get past you because they’ll think you have a gun. And finally, delicately placing a prize-winning horse’s head in one’s bed sheets whilst they sleep is a rather effective way to send a message that snarls, “Don’t mess.”

Eaton family jokes are not limited to “The Godfather.” In the many years that I have been a charter member of this family, jokes have come from just about anything, if the family is feeling punchy enough.

Harry and I are moving to Las Vegas for the summer—did I mention that yet? We couldn’t be more excited! Harry will be interning there this summer. I am hopeful to pursue an internship in Speech Pathology (aka, “Please, let me work here for free and follow you around so I feel like I’m closer to having my dream job! At the very least, I have extensive lunch retrieval experience to recommend me!”). Las Vegas is filled a la brim with so many of our favorite people/memories. It's one of my all time favorite places. I saw “Beatles Love” there. I fell in love there. I got engaged there. I ate my first Winchell’s donut there. What could be better?

So I sent an email to my immediate fam, letting them know that we will now be a whole lot closer to home base all summer long, thus providing us with even more opportunities to get together. I don’t know how this happened, but from that conversation, my Dad and I started discussing a Thanksgiving turkey song I used to sing on camera as a child, and we then decided to form a two-man (eh, two-person ) band. We will be the newest musical sensation to hit the radio waves. Observe.














Yep. Eatons. I don't really get it, either.