On Pinterest

A lot of people [my wife] are into a newish site called pinterest.

This is *NOT* a hate post.  But I'm thinking about starting a new site called pothered.

Name:

I love my maiden name.

It's a really good one.  I got some teasing growing up here and there for it, but that never really got to me.  I was always the only Eaton I ever met (that I wasn't related to by blood).

The nicknames that come with a name like this are GOLDEN.  I've been called:

• Eaton-cheese-n-crackers
• Eaton-Eaton
• E-tone
• Eat-a-ton (not actually a favorite but still gets a spot on this list)
• Etonian
• Eat-o

Bonus round of meaningless trivia:

• One of my favorite shows from BBC of all time, "Upstairs Downstairs," takes place at 165 Eaton Place in London.
• I've visited the actual Eaton Square in London.  Vivienne Leigh and Sean Connery have lived there. 
• According to this website, there was a Sarah Eaton who came to Plymouth on the actual Mayflower.
• Princes William and Harry attended Eton College (perfect if not for that missing "a"). 

When I went on my London Study Abroad program, there were three other Sarahs in our class.  I was pretty much known by my last name that entire semester to avoid confusion (except for the occasional "Sarizzle"), which I absolutely loved.

Recently at work, I started being called Eaton-Eaton out of the blue by a coworker.

When I married my favorite person of all time, and took his last name, there arose a bit of confusion because his sister shares my first name.  There are now two Sarah Reynoldses.  So from time to time, I go by Eaton in the Reynolds family to differentiate.  I never mind it a bit.

I love my new last name.  It's treated me right.  Every once in a while though I get something in the mail with "Eaton" on it, or the people at Safeway call me "Mrs. Eaton" because I still use my mom's Safeway card.  And it gives me a little burst of nostalgic happiness, and I wind up doing something frivolous about it, like, you know, writing a blog post.

I've been bitten by the bug.

The ombre-melted-hair-color bug.

I'm too lazy and cheap to deal with the upkeep that highlights require.  Thus the last time I had my hair professionally (or unprofessionally, for that matter) colored was when I was 18 and a freshman in college.  It wasn't my best look.

But this kind of coloring... I'm crazy about.

That was it.  All I wanted to say.

Merry Christmas, all you ladies who, like me, are considering changing up the old mane up top.

Things I Hate

Concept cars.

They usually look awesome [*I'm not saying all of these ones are--but at least some of them] but no one ever intends to actually make them.  Why are we spending all this time designing cars and getting my hopes up for nothing.  What the heck, David Blaine?

NaNoWriMo Victory!

NaNoWriMo= Done! 

30 days
50,239 words
10 tired fingers
1 drained brain

Time to celebrate with a fistful of chocolate chips!

Thanksgiving: Vegas Remix

We had a Las Vegas Thanksgiving this year.  It's so crazy to me that this is the last time we'll have Thanksgiving while still doing the student-thing (ie while Harry is still doing the student-thing).

We found dirt cheap airfare by coming early and leaving 24 hours after Thanksgiving dinner.  Over the course of the week we got in some R&R and hung out with family and friends.

Oh wait, except for the part where Harry was stuck writing a 30 page research paper that will revolutionize the movie industry.

I felt so bad for him.  He had to spend the better part of his waking hours chained to his laptop, tippity typing away.  He even pulled an all-nighter.  On vacation.

I can't really complain because he's working so hard for our family/future, and I appreciate that more than I can express, and he never complains, but I do wish he could've had more time to just hang out.  I can happily say I don't think there are many more (if any) papers like that in his future.

The things we did manage to do together in his few off hours were:

• Tapas and walking around at the Bellagio with the in-laws (800 pound pumpkins!  Horses made of twigs!  Babbling brooks!  Sculpted glass!  It was like Disneyland).

• Two nights of volleyball
• and can I just toot my own horn for a moment?  I no longer break out in a nervous sweat when everyone says, "Volleyball tonight?  Volleyball?  After dinner?" because I've now played so much with these people that 
• a) I am totally accepting of how lousy I am at it
• 2) I actually am not afraid of the ball anymore
• d) I've gotten to the point where I score points about as often as I lose them

• "Muppet Movie"
• Recommending this to people
• Thanksgiving dinner!  45 family members/friends and amazing food!
• The most adrenaline-fueled game of Taboo I've ever been a part of (things got crazy when two brothers who will not be named Bob and Harry developed a secret language that enabled cheating that everyone caught on to immediately)

Since Harry was stuck with his paper, I cooked our portion of Thanksgiving dinner solo.  I wanted to make my grandmother's recipe for orange rolls.  We have them at every Thanksgiving in my family and they are always my favorite part.

After calling every single grocery store and bakery within a 30 mile radius of the house, I still couldn't find the fresh yeast cakes that the recipe calls for.  So I found another recipe for crescent rolls on the interwebs and combined that with some homemade Garlock orange butter and some orange zest/juice that SIL Sally zested/juiced herself.

Orange Roll Triumph

And if I may say so, the rolls were like crack... on crack (having never actually tried crack I'm unable to say firsthand if they were or not, but that's my assumption and I'm sticking to it).

What made it so difficult to come home was saying goodbye to all the amazing together-time.  I love getting to just sit and talk with family and friends.  I feel really blessed to be part of two families I cannot get enough of.

Now, bring on the Christmas times (I will be decking our 500 sq. ft. halls today with a mini tree, garlands, ribbon, and the two Christmas ornaments that we own!  And you know our balcony bannister is getting some white lights.  Even the blog gets a Yule Log).

Wishing everyone a Harry Christmas (they really are the best kind).

Happy Thanksgiving Eve Eve

From our turkey alter egos.

An email

My cousin Bec wrote me an email today right when I needed something nice to read.  I wrote her back and realized this email is the perfect update of life lately, and saves me the mental energy of putting it into a post.  And yes, those are British pound signs.  We like to communicate with European symbols whenever possible.  So here it is.


£ I loved your email so much I can't even express it.  It was exactly what I needed.  New jobs are stressful.  I feel all topsy turvy until I know what I'm doing which I am sure is still a few weeks away at least.

£ my fingernails are painted a charcoal color now.  The name of the color is "power clutch." they are really running out of good material in the "name picking" department over there at the nail polish company.  What makes a clutch powerful?

£ DOWNTON ABBEY!

£ Yesterday at the gym I was on the stairmaster when an older gentleman wandered by, stood in front of me with his back facing me, and cleaned out his ear with the plug-in-to-the-iPod end of his headphones cord.  When he turned around and looked at me I pretended to be very preoccupied with some part of the floor off to my left.

£ I came home yesterday and Harry was at a lecture, but all the laundry was clean, folded, and put away, and every single dish we own was clean and dry.  I audibly squealed and then did absolutely nothing productive until he got home.

£ Christmas is in the air!  I wish there was a Messiah sing along I could go to with you.

£ I'm not crazy about my blog header either right now.  I'm not even sure why I fiddled with it.  The whole experience was kind of frustrating.  Some days I just want to put up that photo of those squirrels fighting with light sabers and call it done.

£ Bridge mix.  Gllllllllll.

11:11:11 on 11/11/11

Thoughts

So, I checked out Pinterest.

It took me a while because at first, they made me request an invite, and I was like, "Psh, cha right."  I do not request invites to internet websites.  It felt weird.  But then my sister Merzy kept saying, "No.  Seriously.  Try it."  And she sent me an invite.  I was still skeptical.

And then Merzy MADE me a recipe for lunch from a recipe she found on Pinterest.  And it was AMAZING (I think this was it).  And still I pooh-poohed the whole thing.

And then I finally gave in one day because it seems like the best ideas all trace back to Pinterest.

So, now I have another addiction habit.  To yet another internet based network of people/ideas/things.  It is mostly under control, though.

I do have a few thoughts about it.

1) I think Pinterest should be renamed "Things Rich People Do With Their Houses."

2) Or it could be renamed "The Clothing Rich and Trim Girls Wear On City Streets."

Those were actually my only thoughts about Pinterest.  My other current unrelated thoughts include (but are not limited to) the following:

1) I've started painting my nails.  Yes.  Fingers and toes.  I've come a long way, baby.  I actually went to a local CVS and picked out nail polish.  I'm up to 6 colors now.  And I think it's going very well.  Currently I have a peachy nude color on my finger nails and a deep plum on my toes.  I'm so happy I finally arrived to the "pail nolish" party.

2) NaNoWriMo is going smoothly.  Somewhat.

3) I have a new job that has me pretty excited.  The very promise of paychecks makes me want to sing the following:



4) We have started watching "The West Wing."  Meaning, we've been getting the DVDs on Netflix.  When this show was on TV and I was in high school, I used to watch every episode with my Dad.  This was when Tivo was a new fangled thing, and my Dad would pause it periodically to explain the show's finer points.  And while Martin Sheen/the dialogue can be irritating, I love watching this show all over again.  My favorite episode is still "In Excelsis Deo," season 10, episode 1.  And now that it's almost Christmas time (is it yet?), I can watch it with even more enjoyment.

5) For reasons I cannot explain, I now want this haircut.

After I finally got my hair as long as I want it.  This I cannot explain.

6) I cooked with rosemary tonight and my apartment still smells like it.  So many random smells find their way through our vents, it's nice to have a smell that we chose lingering in the air.

7) I have a most excellent husband.  And that makes me one seriously lucky duck.

And on that note, peace out.

It is so on.

This year, Harry and I are both doing NaNoWriMo.  Today is day 1.  My word count so far: 1736.  Harry's word count so far: 3,000.  I'm remembering the tingly feeling of mental pressure and finger exhaustion that accompanied the entire month of November last year.  And the crazy moments of "Ah-HA!" and "Oh shoot." and "What about...?" and "I'm so stuck right now."  And loving it.

And so the insanity begins.

Dialogue: "The Princess Bride" reunion

Harry played this video for both of us.  About halfway through, this was our conversation.

Me: Oh man, I love this movie.  I used to watch this on every birthday when I was a kid.
Harry: (shocked expression) I used to watch this movie every birthday when I was a kid.
Me: ...What?  Really?
Harry: Yeah.
Me: Huh.  I thought it was kind of a girl movie.  I mean, I had princess party sleepovers.  This is what we watched.  Every year.
Harry: What?  No way, it's a guy movie.  There's one girl in it.  The rest of it is sword fighting and swash buckling and stuff.
Me: The title is "The Princess....  Bride."
Harry: Yeah, but it's a boy movie.
Me: (expression says, "boy, you trippin'") Ehhh...
Harry: Boy movie.
Me: Agree to disagree.

Either way, watch the clip.  It'll remind you of why you loved being alive in the late 80's/early 90's, and make you wonder why Robin Wright did that to her pretty hair, and make you sad that Andre the Giant is no longer alive.

Apple Bacon Pizza

Check it--a picture of our apple bacon homemade pizza is on Martha Stewart's website today (courtesy of our good friend Jane Maynard).

Too bad we don't have any leftovers.  'Cause now I really want some.

Because it was a rainy day, and I'm becoming my mother

Yesterday morning I went for a run.

It's been rainy the past few days, and on my way out of our apartment complex I spotted the brightest double rainbow I've ever seen (what does it mean?!).

 At one point it looked as though the end of the rainbow was at the Cheese House, down the street.  Which would make perfect sense, seeing as their sandwiches make me drool golden saliva.

I came home and knew today was the day.  As rain started noisily pouring down and creating puddles in the uneven concrete divots on our balcony I says to myself, "Self, it's time to get over your fear of active dry yeast."  And I made my very first loaf of homemade wheat bread.

I don't make bread, ever.  I'm honestly consistently afraid that I'll really mess it up and wind up with a dense brick of a loaf that will turn to glue in my insides, and it will all have been a waste of time.  Yeast seems like such a weird and fickle thing.  I looked through www.allrecipes.com to find a highly rated recipe and found this one. I halved it as follows (I didn't want to commit to 2-3 loaves without making sure 1 loaf came out right):

Ingredients:
1-1/2 cups warm water (110 degrees F/45 degrees C)
1 (.25 ounce) package active dry yeast
2 tablespoons and 2 teaspoons (or ⅙ cup) honey
2-1/2 cups bread flour
1.5 tablespoon butter, melted
2 tablespoons and 2 teaspoons (or ⅙ cup) honey
1-1/2 teaspoons salt
1 cup whole wheat flour (plus an additional 1-2 cups as needed)
1 tablespoon butter, melted

 1. In a large bowl, mix warm water, yeast, and 2TB and 2tsp honey. Add 2.5 cups white bread flour, and stir to combine. Let set for 30 minutes, or until big and bubbly.
2. Mix in 1 ½ tablespoons melted butter, 2 TB and 2 tsp honey, and salt. Stir in 1 cup whole wheat flour.
 3. Flour a flat surface and knead with whole wheat flour until not real sticky - just pulling away from the counter, but still sticky to touch (about 5-8 minutes). This may take an additional 1 to 2 cups of whole wheat flour. Place in a greased bowl, turning once to coat the surface of the dough. Cover with a dishtowel. Let rise in a warm place until doubled.
4. Punch down, and form 1 loaf. Place in greased 9 x 5 inch loaf pans, and allow to rise until dough has topped the pan by one inch.
5. Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 25 to 30 minutes; do not over-bake. Lightly brush the tops of loaf with 1 tablespoon melted butter when done to prevent crust from getting hard. Cool completely.

 There's nothing like the smell or taste of freshly baked bread. I'm hooked. Oh, yeah, you can forget about it, Orowheat. We're through.

Doing this made me think of my Mom. I can feel myself becoming more and more like her. Maybe it's more like I'm beginning to think her way is the ONLY way to do something. I'm sure it's her genetics that require me to be watching something British (and having to do with women worrying about which gentleman will accept their meager dowry and provide them with a snazzy lifestyle in their Victorian England context) whenever I sew anything. And I'm pretty sure that she's the reason I went to TOWN on some coupons that got mailed to our apartment for some other previous tenant, and that I now have my very own "coupon wallet" (aka the J. Crew coin purse Becca got me for my birthday in 2007). And it's also because of her that I can't really be comfortable on the couch without a blanket draped over me. But there's really no woman I rather share neuroses with.

My best friend's wedding, and "Oh no, I've become one of those people."

She did it!

Meet Arturo and Rebecca, married couple extraordinaire!

I love this girl.  We are two weeks apart, cousins, former roommates, and partners in crime. Harry and I flew up to Salt Lake for her wedding this past weekend, and it was sublime. Family everywhere, babies everywhere, and the euphoria of a newly minted married couple in all kinds of love. And I realized, as I wiped tears away at the ceremony, after the ceremony, at the beginning of the reception, and at the end of the reception, I have turned into one of those people-- the type of person who, you know, cries uncontrollably at weddings.

Being in Utah reminds me of all of our hijinks, and all the fun we had doing them, and reminded me that we're both now bonafide adults, and now there are officially bigger responsibilities in both of our lives that must come before weekends of silliness with bridge mix and BBC.

Maybe that explains why I felt so compelled to hold her hand.

She married one of the coolest guys I've ever met (seriously), and they make a super snazzy duo.

Throw into the mix a wild dance party in Sundance, including the stylings of Justin Bieber and Bruce Springstein, and cutting a rug with all the McOmber clan, and it made for an unforgettable party. My bro played the bag pipes and my even Dad jumped in when someone awesome randomly started the Electric Slide.

The next morning, bright and early, Harry and I groggily made our way to our gate at the SLC airport.  We were settling in to wait to board our flight, when I heard a loud, "WHAT?"  I look up, and there stood Rebecca!  They were flying out ten minutes after us.

Harry, almost on cue, started snapping pictures of the random reunion with my phone.

Cheesy alert: This was such a nice tender mercy for me.  I really really love this gal.  Getting to see her one last time before we flew home made my day.  For five minutes we got to visit, revel in how wonderful the wedding day was, and just laugh like old times.  Thank goodness families are forever, or I would have a serious bone to pick in the afterlife.

Loved this weekend.  LOVED it.

P.S. And also, cousin Margaret, just knowing that you read this blog, and that you're probably one of the 4 people who actually do, makes me so happy. And also, thank you for all those times you invited me and Merzy over to watch LOST and eat sugar cookies when I was 18. I really loved that.

Mountains, ocean, and a serious plethora of pictures

We were lucky enough to steal some time at the end of the summer and go to Duck Creek, UT to the cabin with my cousin Becca and her fiancee (now-husband... more on that coming) for a few days.

We cooked, baked, hiked, ran, read, speed-scrabbled, and watched movies. We also did the Cascade Falls hike together. And we fiddled with the Canon camera that Harry got me for my birthday. I think it's time I learned how to take real photographs, and though this camera has all the knobs and buttons of a spaceship, I'm learning about all of them a little bit at a time.

**I posted so many pictures previously that I have almost used up my allotted free google space.  So a lot of the pictures are now gone, and are available on request, although I would be really surprised  if you did, because this post is now old.**

Then Harry and I got in our little college cars and hauled it back up to Palo Alto. And then 48 hours later, we had our last hurrah of the summer by spending a few days in Monterey Bay and Carmel, a short 2 hour drive from our home, and a dreamy dreamy dreamland of dreams. 

On the way we stopped by Marianne's Ice Cream parlor at the recommendation of some good friends.  We ate Cardamom and Pistachio flavored ice cream, and our taste buds will never be the same.

We stopped in Santa Cruz and wandered down the boardwalk. And saw a bunch of seals who were being rather noisy, and doing what me and my London friends call "The Manheim Steamroller," ie climbing over your fellow beings instead of walking around them.

Planking seals- it's an epidemic

We got to Monterey, explored the town a little bit, found a sushi place, and enjoyed the view from our room.

The next day we drove the 17-mile drive down the coast, and hiked around Point Lobos.

Then we high tailed it home and settled back into our 1960's-era apartment.  Bring it on, autumn.

Boom! Done.

We took liberties with the pattern (and I mean LIBERTIES). But I like this more than the original pattern. All in all I'm in love with it.

A special thanks goes out to Mama Eaton who made this skirt possible.

Since my parents have been doing the whole "empty nester" thing since 2008, my Mom turned an empty bedroom into her "sewing room." There's still a bed in there. So I told my Mom to stretch out on the bed while I sat at her sewing machine. And I set up season 1 of Downton Abbey on my laptop on the ironing board. She would then direct me from her post and I (to quote Ms. O'Brien from Downton Abbey) "sewed like a cursed princess in a fairytale." We finished this baby in about 4 hours total, spread out over 3 days.

Today I finished up the last few things on my own now that we're back in Palo Alto. I made sure something British ("Emma") was playing though while I finished it up. This is partially because I got a migraine last night. I've been getting migraines since kindergarten, and missed school (on average) about once a month because of it. In high school the nurse's office basically had my emergency contact card memorized. While I waited out my migraines at home, my usual routine was to have Gwenyth Paltrow's "Emma" playing in the background (on VHS! Doesn't that sound weird?) while I curled up on the couch with my eyes squeezed shut, munching an occasional saltine cracker to tame the nausea until the pain slowly petered away hours later.

Well, last night during scripture study, just before lights out, my vision blurred in a distinct way-- the tip off that a migraine is coming. When this happens, alarms go off in my brain and it's almost like I can hear someone shouting "ABORT! ABORT!" I immediately said, "Harry! Migraine! I need Aleve and water STAT!" I may not have said that verbatim but I may as well have. He jumped out of bed lightning fast. He knows the migraine drill pretty well. I downed the pill (normally I take 2 Excedrine but I knew I wouldn't sleep at all if I took that at night), we turned off the light, and I feverishly prayed that I'd fall asleep for the migraine got too terrible to ignore.

Thank Heavens (no, seriously though-- I feel like this was an early Christmas present from Heaven) this morning I woke up, having slept right through the migraine.

Sorry, Universe. You lose.

I guess since I still HAD a migraine last night I felt compelled to watch "Emma" today while I hemmed my skirt and attached the hook and eye to the back. It somehow felt right.

Coming up next: our end of the summer trips to Duck Creek and Monterey Bay. Here's a preview:

So long, summer

Yes, I know what you're thinking. The Dashboard Confessional song is called "So Long Sweet Summer." But I'm not 14 anymore, and it's not 2001, and I don't listen to that song anymore because it still really does make me feel like the fact that summer is over will make me completely depressed for decades to come. And I don't actually feel that way at all.

Speaking of something else, which we weren't, I thrive on routine. I know most people do, so I don't consider that an earth shattering revelation. As much as I've been completely smitten with summer and having nothing to do except be around people I love, my brain is sort of free-floating around in my skull, while it likes to be tightly tethered to its post with a to-do list, a plan, something stable that I can have maximum control over.

So, summer, since you're on your way out the proverbial door, it's been great. I really enjoyed what we had. But… it's not you. It's me. I've realized I have needs. These needs must be met. Or my thighs and waistline will expand faster than you can say "helium balloon." Don't take this too personally. I think you're great. You have so much to offer. Hey, in another year, our paths will cross, and we'll spend time together again, with swimming suits, watermelon chunks, linen skirts, Target sandals, and sunscreen. Until then… I'm going to be spending more time with my good friend, Autumn. We'll be running in the crisp morning air around Palo Alto, meandering around pumpkin patches, making family-recipe Butternut Squash Soup, and not sitting in a swimming pool all day munching homemade cookies. Instead I'll indulge in wooly socks and anything cooked with cinnamon. There may even be a basket-weave hand-knitted scarf or two involved.

Don't take it too hard. We had some great times. I will always remember the tan you gave me and that time I burned my hands on my steering wheel after my car sat in the Las Vegas sun for an hour in an asphalt parking lot.

But you and I both knew this day was coming.

Not-really-so-much yours,
S.A.R.

PS Would you please apologize to Harry for giving him that scalp sunburn? It's not right to treat him that way just because we buzzed all of his hair off.

Sushi and French Raw Silk

My parents have been serving in the local Single's Ward for a little while now. Recently my Dad organized a Sushi Night. A member of the ward is a world renowned Master Sushi Chef, and he agreed to teach a little class on Sushi Basics.

We set about chopping cucumbers and avocados, using our bare hands to work with the rice and seaweed, and using bamboo rollers to shape the final rolls unto squares and rectangles. The chef and my Dad spent hours preparing spicy tuna and crab filling, as well as perfect tangy sweet sushi rice. I felt like I belonged on Food Network.






When the Master Sushi Chef walked by and I asked how I did, he paused, shrugged, and said, "Yeah, it's okay."

He told me and Harry about a restaurant he's opened in San Francisco. That's at the top of our priority list for when we get back.

In other news, my Mom and I finally got up the guts and courage to do something we've been talking about for ages. We spent a Saturday morning in the LA Fabric District this past weekend.

I've read on lots of blogs about the incredible amount of fabric available for wholesale prices in Los Angeles. I did some research the night before on the must-see places (namely, Tex Carmel, Michael Levine, and the Michael Levine Loft) and on where to park. I checked traffic projections and determined the best way to get there, and the best way to get home (two different routes. LA traffic is a cruel and unpredictable beast).

On Saturday morning at 8:00 am, we gritted our teeth and set off for the district. My Mom is a very accomplished seamstress, and I think this trip for her was a bit like taking a person who is obsessed with fish to the biggest aquarium on earth. I think the wheels in her brain began turning so fast they may have left skid marks on her cerebellum.




I did find exactly what I wanted- a dark orangey-copper-ish french raw silk. I love this material. Both my sisters had wedding dresses made of raw silk-- and so did Princess Diana. It's delicate but stiff, and rough to the touch, and looks as though it's got a lot of runs going through it, but in the light, it has a beautiful glow. I did some haggling, and got it for $10/yard. This fabric usually runs somewhere around $45/yard. In a store nearby I found a perfect crocheted lacy trim.



We ran up the street to the Michael Levine Loft. I'd read about this place-- it's a sweltering room that looks like an old attic that's full of boxes of discarded knits. Everything in the room is $2.50 per POUND. So you can load up on endless amounts of fabric and if it's lightweight, you can walk away with tons of it. We got about 10 yards of different colored knit fabrics and it cost under $10. Sha-blam!



The last stop was Michael Levine. I read it's a good place to go to last, because while they have incredible deals, they do run a tiny bit more expensive. Their selection is mind-boggling.



There was another skirt I wanted to make that is comprised of rows and rows of lace.



I found beautiful lace in both black and white and $1.00/yard. I pounced and bought 7 yards of each, and spent about $5 more on white poly-cotton for lining.




All together, I think I spent about $35. For what will become a raw silk skirt, 2 lace skirts, and a cardigan. Assuming I don't mess them all up!