pork pot au feu milk braised turnips, melted leeks, baby carrots, consomme bradford mountain, zinfandel, dry creek valley, sonoma, california 2006
epoisses fondue peanut brittle, red wine jam tenuta la badiola, 642 degrees, maremma, tuscany 2009
ellijay apple pate yogurt streusel & mouse, ghluwein white collar crime, specialty cocktail
I think some of the wine pairings are off here. I know I had a sauvignon blanc with the first course and a merlot with the third.
My favorite by far was the epoisses fondue. I was three deep at that point (really more like 3.5- the amuse boche came with a small kir royale), and we all know how much I like cheese. And to be clear, the “red wine jam” was really like that candy you used to get at the pool in middle school. The kind that’s like a gummy rope covered in sugar? I just spent forever trying to find it online. Anyway. Pot of melted cheese + peanut brittle + candy rope = me, drunk, trying to hide my glee. Matt said that next year we’re skipping the tasting menu and melting some cheese at home.
As of a few hours ago. I’m up this late not because I’m partying but because I just got home from helping my old sorority with recruitment voting (I know, I know. Boundaries, etc.).
25 isn’t much of a birthday as far as milestones go. I can rent a car without paying extra. According to my colleague, I am now a member of the Grown and Sexy Club. But you can mark 25 down as the birthday where I first began to feel old as shit. College girls are great for that. They stay up so late! When I left everyone was still chatting, and not about urgent recruitment business. Just chatting.
I know to anyone over 27, saying at 25 that 20 year olds make you feel old is beyond ridiculous. But it’s true. Old. As. Shit.
Amelia and Curtis have been married for two days now. Their wedding weekend was perfect and crazy, but not as crazy as it could’ve been. Totally exhausting, but guests behaved, nothing caught on fire, no cold feet, etc.
My bridesmaid duties began at 1pm Saturday at Nails Chic. (Why are salons’ names always [body part + adjective]? Who decided this is fancier?) Nicole had already picked out OPI Bubble Bath, so Kara and I decided to get that, too. It looked fine, but was a little too close to my skin color. I am bubble bath colored, as it turns out.
I asked way too many questions at the rehearsal since I’d never been to a Jewish wedding. At one point, Amelia said, “Kate, did you not learn the ceremonial dance?” and I was like, “You don’t get it - I keep waiting for someone to say that, but for real.” I was reassured over and over that all I had to do was stand up there and smile. Liars! Halfway through the ceremony, the rabbi said, “Now we’ll sing the [Hebrew something something].” It was fine, though, Nicole and I just stood there and nobody cared.
The rehearsal dinner was at Bistro Byronz and was delicious. Matt and I sat with Amelia’s sorority family, Alyse, Erin, and Margaret. There were lots of Gamma Phis in town for the wedding. Besides those three, I also got to catch up with Ashley, Molly, Ruth, and Nithya. I miss seeing everyone.
The bridal party had to get the salon bright and early on Sunday morning. Amelia’s mom brought snacks and mimosas. I had a nice, festive buzz going while I put on my makeup. It reminded me of living with Amelia back in college. The stylist put my hair in a Louisiana version of a French twist. It was huge. I loved it. Once I was ready, my job was to distract Amelia’s mom with photos of Silas and Millie so she didn’t cry and ruin her makeup.
The ceremony went beautifully. Curtis choked up exactly the right amount during his vows, and then Amelia started crying and Nicole handed her a tissue and everyone laughed. Curtis’ mom made the chuppah and embroidered it with the names of all their relatives, both sides, going back to 1730.
The reception had an open bar and a DJ, so I had a ball. There were lots of friends and family there- about 250, I think. Amelia’s mom’s Cajun relatives all took a party bus in from their tiny town. Amelia and Curtis left at 7. I fell asleep watching the Kardashians around 9:30. Bridesmaiding is exhausting. Even recapping it is exhausting.
Here are all the girly details for interested parties: Amelia’s dress was Vera Wang for David’s Bridal (minus the sash). Nicole wore an one-shouldered dress with ruching. Kara and I wore higher-necked dresses with sashes. The dresses were marine. The groom and groomsmen wore tuxes with white bow ties. The flowers were hot pink peonies. The cake was three square layers; the bottom and top were white and the middle was navy and white stripes with two hot pink bows. Amelia surprised Curtis with a ‘57 Chevy Belaire to drive them from the synagogue to the reception. They’re honeymooning in Jamaica.
According to careercast.com, event coordinator is the 6th most stressful job. At first I was like, Damn right it’s stressful! And then I noticed that the five jobs ahead of it all involve being directly responsible for others’ safety and/or the possibility of being killed at any moment.
6. Event Coordinator — Average Income $45,260 5. Police Officer — Average Income $53,540 4. Military General — Average Income $196,300 3. Airline Pilot — Average Income $103,210 2. Firefighter — Average Income $45,250 1. Enlisted Military Soldier — Average Income $35,580
Maybe they should’ve organized this list into tiers.
How much I enjoyed a book does not necessarily correlate with its literary merit.
1. The Near Witch, Victoria Schwab Books are better when you know the author.
2. Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?, Mindy Kaling I’m certain I’m not the first 20-something woman to say this, but I feel very strongly that Mindy Kaling and I could be best friends.
3. Demon Glass, Rachel Hawkins The sequel to Hex Hall. I couldn’t put this down.
4. Bossypants, Tina Fey Tina Fey is a goddess. I don’t know what else to say.
5. Inside Scientology: The Story of America’s Most Secretive Cult, Janet Reitman Meticulously researched and less sensationalist than anything else you’ll read about Scientology. A little dry, but all the scarier because the craziest rumors aren’t included and yet Scientology is still terrifying.
6. Hex Hall, Rachel Hawkins I don’t read much YA fiction, but I heard Rachel Hawkins speak on the same panel as Victoria at the Decatur Book Festival. She was so funny and made this book sound so intriguing that I had to check it out.
7. The Moving Finger, Agatha Christie I really liked the narrator.
8. Under the Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith, Jon Krakauer Similar to Inside Scientology in style. Really fascinating, but I had to take periodic breaks because of how disturbing a lot of the content is.
9. Thoughts in Solitude, Thomas Merton Basically the exact opposite of Under the Banner of Heaven. This is a good book to read if you’re trying to get to sleep, but I mean that as a compliment.
10. The Boleyn Inheritance, Philippa Gregory I didn’t remember this part of high school European History so it was a real page turner waiting to find out who was getting executed.
11. The Red Queen, Philippa Gregory The narrator was insanely devout and a raging narcissist. It was interesting to be inside her head.
12. The White Queen, Philippa Gregory Almost the exact same story as The Red Queen, just with a different narrator.
13. Murder on the Orient Express, Agatha Christie I love this book, but I’ve read so much Agatha Christie that it didn’t grab me the way other, newer books on this list did.
14. The Virgin’s Lover, Philippa Gregory This book made Elizabeth I look like a big bitch and that bummed me out. It had an interesting perspective, though.
15. The Pocket Idiot’s Guide to Wine, Tara Q. Thomas I retained maybe 10% of what I read. It’s been helpful in ordering wine at restaurants, though.
15. The Widow Clicquot, Tilar J. Mazzero The subject was interesting enough, but the writing was Dry. Capital-D dry.
16. One Thousand White Women, Jim Fergus Every single character you might get attached to is raped and/or murdered. Not apologizing for the spoilers; you should know that going in. I’d call the dialect downright racist except that it makes every group besides white Chicago women look bad: Native Americans, African-Americans, Irish… which makes me think it’s just really, really bad writing.
This series of articles on estate jewelry is fascinating and the photos are the best.
I’ve gotten really into Mormon blogs over the past six months (more on that later) (I’m not Mormon). I have Mormon blogs for every mood. If you want to deal with anger via displacement: Mormon in Manhattan (preciously subtitled “(no) sex in the city”). If you need cute baby photos and unfailing optimism: Rockstar Diaries. If you want to read about people with issues more interesting than yours: House of Nash (an adoption blog) and Becoming Kayli (the birth mom’s blog).
Everyone needs to get on Netflix and watch Party Down. It’s not on Hulu, unfortunately.
I adopted Silas from Atlanta Pet Rescue. Their website is addictive for imaginary dog shopping. I still check it daily.
Silas and I went to Nashville for the holidays. It was nice and relaxing and I got to see just about everybody I love.
Titans game with the fam. Pre-Christmas dinner and Christmas Day lunch with even more family. Drinks with Amanda (also her sister and sister’s bf, such a tooge). Shopping with Katy. Multiple dinners with Claire, Perry, Allison, Emily, Ellen, Kelly, and their assorted boyfriends/fiances. Watching Hot Coffee, a documentary on tort reform that tries to be less boring by talking about the woman who was burned by McDonald’s coffee (and is still boring. Perry, why did we watch this?). Brunch with Claire, Melissa, and Victoria. The Liberty Bowl in Memphis with Matt and the fam. NYE with Matt and Ben.
It was a jam-packed 11 days. But there’s only one story that really has to be told, and it is this: Millie took a dump on my coat. She’s been housebroken for a year. Mom thinks I’m being paranoid, but it’s obvious that Millie wants to be an only child. In a house with 3,000 square feet in which to do her business, Millie went into my room, found something with my scent, and pooped on it. This seems pretty unambiguous to me. In Millie’s defense, Silas shit in front of the oven on three separate occasions. Apart they are completely housebroken, but together it’s a zoo. Like a very small petting zoo, but sometimes your calf gets humped. (Ok, only Silas does that.)