giving thanks and growing up

i wasn't able to go home for Thanksgiving this year because i had to work the saturday after the holiday, but it gave opportunity to start new traditions. francis and i decided to have a low key celebration with his parents. we offered to cook the entire meal and they offered to pay for all the groceries and supplies we needed. perfect.

we were brainstorming and meal planning for a couple of weeks thinking what fun things we should try, how we should plate things, and what unexpected flavors we could include. in the end, however, we decided to just stick with a traditional meal and that we had the rest of our lives to do things unconventionally when we hosted at our own house.

francis took over on operation:turkey and a fancy shmancy, homemade green bean casserole recipe and i planned to tackle everything else. we opted for family style versus courses and ended up with a delectable table hosting the following options:

turkey: twelve pounder soaked overnight in a brine, lathered in butter and seasonings, stuffed with garlic, onion, fresh rosemary, lemon, lime, and orange wedges

mashed potatoes: russets mixed with heavy cream, garlic, salt, and fresh, minced rosemary

corn: butter sauce

cranberries: fresh simmered in orange juice, sugar, and cinnamon

rolls: brushed with butter

mushrooms: (a tradition of my family) simmered with bacon, onion and butter

green beans: cooked with homemade onion strings, fresh mushrooms, a homemade cream sauce, onion, and garlic

stuffing: boxed kind (i know, i know, but i love it.)

pie: homemade with fresh, roasted pumpkin, spices, cream, eggs, brown sugar, salt and whipping cream

his mom even let us eat at their fancy dining room table (the room with the white carpet that never gets used), with my choice of fancy china from the (usually just for display) china cabinet, and fancy, fragile, crystal wine glasses. a smashing success.

we spent the rest of the weekend decorating their house for Christmas---including a TWELVE foot tree that took about six hours to put up and decorate---and watching modern family season two on dvd (our black friday splurge---and by splurge, i mean twelve dollars. and yes, we were up at midnight for this twelve dollar purchase, because we are ridiculous like that.)

when i got back home, my roommate and i decorated our house with a fresh tree---we sawed off branches and the bottom foot so it'd be fresh to go in the water. we stood on two ladders and hung lights from the shingles and gutters and decorated the house inside, outside, and just about every single crevice that could be Christmasized, while drinking wine and blasting festive music.

making full Thanksgiving dinners, standing on ladders to hang Christmas lights, decorating houses --- so many grown up things in one weekend, when did i get old enough to manage these things by myself?

{images: darling print at the top from HEN&CO. etsy store, food images from hilaryclair} 

something borrowed, something blue

anyone who knows me well knows i love weddings. who am i kidding? heck, anyone who knows me not well, maybe seen me once or twice, sat at the bus with me, or brushed arms with me probably has some idea about how much i love....well, love. i adore fancy occasions, reasons to celebrate and happily ever afters.

this weekend, francis and i went to the wedding of two of our dear friends. we've been to a handful of weddings recently. i've danced my heart out while francis watched (probably embarrassed) from our table. we've made new friends, caught up with acquaintances, and taken notes for our someday nuptials. the one thing i've noticed is we tend to know only a handful of people well at weddings, since our friends come from so many different groups. i was never the girl that had the close knit group of twenty friends who did everything together, but instead the twenty friends from twenty different groups. though half the world would bet money that i'm never shy, i found myself taking on the role of wallflower at some of this season's weddings, because i knew something like two people at the wedding ---the bride and groom.

this weekend's wedding hosted about thirty of my nearest and dearest. we took up three tables and it was so nice to have familiar faces everywhere i looked. they had dance instruction at the beginning of the wedding, where we had a crash course on learning the waltz, swing, disco, and line dancing. i thought this was a genius idea, because it built confidence and gave the guests something to do while the wedding party took photos. it was a blast to dance with a group of girls, cheer loudly as francis partook in the men's disco competition, nuzzle into francis' shoulder as we danced slowly to "moonriver", and have a chance to catch up with so many friends at once.

i was excited to try my hand at the bouquet toss and hoped that fate was somehow intertwined with my catching skills. sure enough, a little of beyonce's "single ladies" and a small crowd of unwed women later and the bouquet was mine. (i have to be honest and say though i didn't trample anybody, i definitely reached for it. it wasn't one of those "i didn't even try and it fell right into my hands" kind of things.)

basking in the promise of a soon engagement only flowers can provide, i was sitting at our table when the two flower girls came up to me. here's the conversation:

fg (flower girl): "pretty flowers." (in a sad voice)
me: "thank you."
fg: "we were trying to catch them but we got hit in the head." (sounded like eeyore)
me: "oh no! am i the one who hit you in the head?"
fg: "no, not you. it's okay, we are okay now." (sounded heartbroken)
...long pause...
me: "here, you can have the bouquet."

and then, they ran away giddy. i got played by two six year olds.

then, francis comes up to me and says, "sweetheart, don't you know that if you catch a bouquet and give it away, it delays engagement by ten years."

moral of the story: i was practically engaged this weekend and i threw it all away on two puppy dog faces.
disclaimer: this is heavily dosed in sarcasm.

the end.

{images: j.crew, BHLDN}

dear francis,

i love you. it isn't only because you are a rockstar or the most patient man to ever grace this mighty earth. it isn't because you are genuinely kind. its not just because you call me randomly to fill me in on the sweetest things. it isn't because you explain rocket science concepts to me in ways that i not only understand, but could teach them to others. it's not just because you catch me off guard with kindness or challenge me with constructive words. it isn't because you ask big questions that you think i hold the answers to. it isn't because you exceed my expectations. it's not because you keep my secrets and protect my heart, fears, dreams, and plans. it's not because you love Jesus more than you love me. it's not because you are practical and think logically in all the ways i don't. it isn't because you never leave the house without cologne and always smell dreamy. it isn't because you have class, manners and say please, thank you, and God bless you when i sneeze. it isn't because you notice the small things--the way i bite my bottom lip when i'm near tears, or the new polish on my fingers. it isn't because you drive me, pick me up, and drop me off just about every place in this big, beautiful city of ours and only mention how bad traffic was every one in three thousand times. it isn't because you still remember minute details from rambling stories i've told two years after the fact. it isn't because many of my happiest memories cast you in the starring role. it isn't because you trust me with life's biggest things or because you put effort into knowing each one of my family and friends like a note card with bullet points (all gazillion of them). it isn't because of your deep voice or the way you use it to console my sensitive little heart or affirm my life plans, not to mention make me laugh uncontrollably with the things you say. it isn't only because you make me feel capable and qualified of anything my heart desires. it isn't because you've let me plan our someday wedding since before we even knew there'd be one and didn't run for the hills long ago. it isn't because you argue with me to fix things and grow stronger, not just to argue. it isn't because you let me choose the radio station in the car. it isn't because you are the most devastatingly handsome man i've ever laid eyes on or the way i know you'll shy away from the screen when you read that part. it also isn't because you seek adventure with me, even when you'd rather stay home. it isn't because i could continue to write until this was a novel that took a lifetime.

it's because you are, because you do, because of all of these things and more.

thank you for being you. thank you for being.

hilary

{image: Domino magazine}

pillows

i'm on a mission to find fun, classy throw pillows for my bed.

it's currently a fluff of all white. i love white. that being said, it could use a healthy dose of color, something to pop or at least add some texture. i struggle with narrowing down and deciding on the statement pieces. {it took me about three months to pick out a lamp for goodness sakes.}

 any favorite pillow places? 

i've looked online at etsy, williams-sonoma home, target, anthropologie, and urban outfitters, but so far nothing that tickles my fancy and my budget.

{images: Domino magazine}