Fire...what if?

A while ago, I bought a University of Washington Snuggie (please, hold your judgement). I mostly bought it as a joke, but grew to love few things more than that awkwardly-shaped piece of fleece on a relaxing night in. I remember getting a call from a friend, asking me about my opinion of my Snuggie (he was thinking about buying one) and I promptly told him "I would save it in a fire." Great way to explain something that you can't imagine parting with, right?

I admit: it may not have been a completely honest answer, because when I stumbled upon the website The Burning House today while reading Apartment Therapy (another of my favorite new online finds) I really started to think about the question: what would I actually save in a fire?

The website is all user generated content, where people from all over the world (Brisbane, Missouri, Amsterdam) submit photos of all the worldly possessions they would save in that exact situation. It asks this question:

If your house was burning, what would you take with you? It's a conflict between what's practical, valuable and sentimental. What you would take reflects your interests, background and priorities. Think of it as an interview condensed into one question.

Along with their name, location and profession, following the photographs are detailed lists of the items shown. Some are simple: "phone", "MacBook", "insert mundane necessary item here" (we all have them). But others are just absolutely beautiful: "the wedding dress that I married the man of my dreams in 18 years ago" and a picture of someone's feet with the (paraphrased) caption "as I looked around my home trying to find what I would take, I looked down at my feet, and realized that all I really needed to take was me."

Feeling sentimental, inspired and infatuated by pages and pages of people basically bearing their souls to complete strangers through photos of their most treasured possessions, I began to contemplate the predicament myself. I tried to keep it realistic - some of these people took bits of furniture, and I don't know about you, but if my home was on fire, I think the last thing I would be trying to do would be lugging a hefty piece of wood down three flights of stairs. I tried to think about the things that I own that truly are irreplaceable - and if they are irreplaceable, why they meant so much to me. (I have an advantage of course, because I have pre-knowledge of the flames that are about to consume my dwelling.) I figured if I were to smell smoke, the first thing I would do is throw on an oversized sweater & boots, then grab my Vera Bradley duffle and start shoving.

I started to arrange certain things with the intentions of taking a photo much like those on the blog and posting it here. But once I had everything compiled, it just didn't feel sincere to me. I mean, there are those few things that are absolute no-brainers: my 1980s L.L. Bean flannel that used to belong to my mom, the baby blanket I still sleep with, a couple beautiful pieces I inherited after my grandmother passed away. But I think I came to the realization that those "burning house" compilations seemed so much more complex and wonderful when they were someone else's response to the unthinkable. When it was my stuff laid out in an aesthetically pleasing fashion, it had no mystery or allure. But it might to someone else who only knows me as "Meghan Brittany from Irvine, California."

Nevertheless, it is fascinating to think about. It reminds me that every thing has a story, even if some are much more compelling than others. Our material things are rarely important to us just because they happen to be our favorite color or function well for what they are. They have meaning because someone gave them to you as a gift or because you used your first real paycheck to buy it or you wore it all around Europe for those couple of months you were abroad.

The stories are what make our things special. The intangible is what makes tangible stuff matter in the first place.

♥mb. 

Things I can't live without: Volume II/Reinstated.

Things have been pretty slow at work lately, which means I have had ample time to peruse the web. I have been drawing a lot of positive energy from fashion/design blogs (namely a new favorite, cupcakes & cashmere) that has me inspired to a. write more, b. create some fun new things and c. just revel in the things that delight me. 

I started out back in November with the goal to write regularly about the "things I can't live without" (my favorite way to describe the things in my life I consider to be essentials) but kind of fell off the band wagon after my initial ode to coconuts. With this post, I plan to reinstate these entries. Sometimes, they will be a post with a list of things, other times it will be a love letter to only one. It all just depends on my mood.

To that end, here are a few of the things I am loving now. Some are new discoveries, and some are old staples. Just little things that, right now, are making me happy through the simple act of existing.


Gluten-free toaster waffles
    seriously, sometimes, the only thing that sound good to me.

Aveeno Lemongrass, Grapefruit + Rosemary Body Wash
    no better scent to energize you in the morning and after a yoga session.

Essie Mint Candy Apple
    a variation of teal, my favorite color. how could I not love it on my nails?




And there you have it. The list could be completely different tomorrow. After all, variety is the spice of life.

♥mb.

Vices.

I am in the middle of what I like to call a "funk". (And no, not the fun, college "pre-" kind where you just play flip cup for hours.) Part of it has to do with biology, part to do with the fact that it has officially been 6 months since I flew south (and coincidentally, 6 months since I've really spent any time with my friends in Seattle) and part of it is a big mystery. As funks often are, very few things seem exciting, talking to people doesn't seem all that necessary, and certain things become hugely comforting for the part of us that feels broken, hurt or simply confused.

Everyone has them. Those simple, small things in life that always seem to function like a hug on a day when we really need one. (Or just make a good day even better by simply existing.) I define said "vices" as falling into one (or all) of the following categories:

1. The things that make you feel better no matter what.
2. The things that, even when crunched for cash, you will spend more than is budget-ly reasonable on.
3. The things that calm your crazy.

I like the third definition the best. Admit to it or not, we all have a little crazy that sometimes erupts into a lot of crazy that sometimes needs to be subdued. And these vices, time after time, do the trick. I wish I could tell you that one of my vices was going to the shooting range, but I'm sorry to say that I am just not that cool. (And I think that firing the shots would actually make me more anxious.)

In this particular funk, I have taken refuge in three particular things: nail polish, yoga and tea. Looking down at ten freshly painted fingers, finishing a Vinyasa session (that, admittedly, I still have a lot of trouble getting off the couch to go participate in) and sipping either green or peppermint tea has all soothed my soul immensely over these past couple of weeks. Three simple things, that together form a coalition of healing, that, topped with a long phone conversation with a certain mom have pretty well done their job to fix me up to the point where I feel like I am ready rejoin the human race.

Another thing that helps me when I am feeling down is to clean. Not in the Holly Housewife sense - no, vacuuming in stilettos is not my thing - but in the sense that I truly believe your outside surroundings heavily influence your inner workings. And that if you are living in a clean, pretty environment, your thoughts will follow suit. As I was cleaning yesterday and carefully arranging all of my various items in my medicine cabinet, my eyes were drawn to the particular shelf that housed all of my Essie colors. The tiny bottles, so seemingly insignificant, put a smile on my face - they just looked so darn nice together. I decided to take them out and neatly display them on my countertop, because they made me so happy (much the same way that I often like to hang a favorite dress prominently in my closet because the mere sight of it makes me exude joy.) The end result was this:

(Please, pardon the smudge on the purple!)

I am not saying that nail polish is now a decorative element (did you hear that, Elle Decor?), but am simply making the point that small things can make you really happy...but you have to let them. Often times when we feel bad about ourselves, we wait for something monumental to break the cycle - how many times have you or someone you know uttered the words "I would be happy if..." 

...I had a boyfriend ...I made more money ...I could lose 10 pounds ...I lived closer to my friends ... etc.

There is not one person in this world who is 100% satisfied with the way their life is right at this very moment (and if you find someone who claims they are, they are lying to you), but we all put way too many conditions on happiness. Or, maybe the thing is, that we wrongly define what it means to be happy. It is unrealistic to think that you are going to be a bobbing, bundle of sunshiney joy all of the days, hours and minutes of your life. But does that mean you are not happy? Certainly not.

In this day and age, when are we are bombarded daily with technology, media, Facebook updates and emails, it can be hard to zero in on the things that add a few moments of bliss to our day. I am encouraging you to seek those things out. Wear your favorite pair of heels with your PJs just because you like the way your feet look in them. Hang your nephew's (poorly) drawn dinosaur picture above your nightstand like it is a Rembrandt. Use nail polish bottles as decorations.

Whatever you do, find those things that even in the midst of clouds, make the sun break through just a little, even if just enough to give you faith that it's still there.

♥mb.

Big plans...cupcake plans.

I started carrying a small notebook around with me a couple of months ago. I realized that I kept getting these ideas about things I wanted to write about or remember, but wouldn't ya know I usually would forget them by the time I had finished mentally telling myself "I need to remember that one." You know how it goes. The human brain can only entertain 7 different thoughts simultaneously, and being an over-thinker by design, I am constantly overloaded in the "maximum thought" department.

This notebook allows me to jot down the things that occur to me WHEN I think of them. Genius, I know. Then, when I'm feeling inspired to write, I just flip through the pages until a particular quote or pondering begs to be transcribed into more words than just the few I haphazardly wrote down on the tiny page.

Today was one of those days where this small investment of time and money game in hugely handy. It was a slow, sleepy day at the office and per usual, my mind wandered off of work-related tasks. I recently discovered a marvelous website (shout out to my fabulous uncle for the suggestion) called Taste Spotting, aka "Food Porn". And it really, really is. There are thousands of pages of brilliantly photographed treats and delicacies of every variety - enough to inspire even the most culinarily challenged of people to throw on an apron and brave the kitchen. It is my new favorite way to kill time at work. No, no, not kill time - get inspired.

Since finding out about my food allergies, I have fallen irrevocably in love with cooking. I love finding recipes I can convert to something I can enjoy without any pain. Even more than that, I love sharing my creations with the people I love. I have been toying with the idea of recipe development for a while now - I have no idea what goes into actually creating a recipe from scratch, but I think I'm ready to start experimenting...

Perusing the many specatularly sugary treats on my new favorite online destination, I started to think about cupcakes, and how they are really like an empty canvas. There are so many interesting variations out there that use basic cake recipes as a base (for which I have many a gluten/dairy-free favorite!) but are so much more intriguing than just chocolate or vanilla. I thought to myself, if gourmet cupcake shops are popping up all over the place, why can't I try my hand at creating original cupcake recipes for the people in my life to enjoy? I am, after all, a firm believer that a cupcake can change your life, so why not create some "life-changing" cupcakes of my own?

This prompted me to pull out my pocket notebook and begin a list of all the different kinds of cupcakes I want to try my hand at. This is the list:

1. Chocolate Covered Pretzel - pretzel cupcake with chocolate ganache frosting
2. Pumpkin-Bourbon cupcake with salted caramel frosting
3. Lemon Rosemary cupcake with lemon curd filling and vanilla buttercream
4. Snickerdoodle (vanilla cupcake with a cinnamon swirl & cinnamon-sugar buttercream)
      I won't take credit for this one. I want to re-create a Trophy Cupcake but gfree :)
5. Lavender Vanilla
    Yet another Seattle cupcake spin-off: Cupcake Royale
6. Black Forest cupcake (dark chocolate cake with cherry center, chocolate frosting, cherry pie filling & cherry liqueur topping)
7. Kir Royale (vanilla cupcake with Chambord swirl, champagne-spiked buttercream)
8. Peanut Butter Cup (peanut butter cupcake with chocolate buttercream)
9. Tea Cupcakes (matcha, Earl Grey, black tea, Chamomille, the possibilities are endless!)
10. "Healthy" cupcake (something with oat flour, shredded coconut, pecans, flax seed meal, craisins & dark chocolate)


There it is people, my inspiration of the day. I will try to post the recipes as I make and perfect these puppies - crossing my fingers for good results : ) I am hoping this list will grow as well...suggestions?

Happy cupcake-ing friends.

♥ mb.

Put a splint on it?

I'm clumsy. Like, really clumsy. I drag my feet when I walk, turn my ankle almost every time I wear heels and was constantly the featured entertainment in my study abroad group because me + Europe + cobble stones = constant opportunities for tripping myself. It isn't uncommon for me to be covered in bruises & scrapes and have no idea as to the origin of any of them.

Over Memorial Day weekend this year, I truly outdid myself. My family had just left after spending two straight weeks with me and I decided that to ease the part of my heart that was breaking to see them go back home I would spend my Sunday evening cooking. Cooking - baking especially - has always made me feel better. I used to make cupcakes in high school every time I was upset about a boy or a fight with a friend or anything. There are few problems in life that sugar can't make a little better. The older I've gotten, the broader my repertoire of recipes has become, and so this particular "cooking therapy" was going to be spent making several treats for a family BBQ the next day.

Making my favorite potato salad and getting a little too comfortable with a super sharp chef's knife that had literally emerged from the womb of it's plastic casing minutes earlier, I endured a small injury. Now, I am no stranger to cutting myself in the kitchen - I'd say when I'm cooking regularly, there is a 1 in 5 chance I will nick a finger nail, stab my palm or draw a small amount of blood when I get a little lazy with the blade in my hand. But I immediately knew that this was different.

For one thing, it hurt like HELL. I ran it under cold water for a minute or so, but realized that wasn't helping. I was in a little bit of a panick because I know nothing about medicine (other than a. I'm not cut out for that, b. it's scary and c. if you see red, apply pressure) and as it would happen, my mother aka medical advisor was flying 30,000 feet in the air back home to Seattle. I shed a couple of tears, not because of pain or being scared, but just out of sheer "what the BLEEP do I do?".

I ended up at the emergency room, which is thankfully just around the corner from my apartment. (Ironic, actually, considering I had just been joking the other day about how "Hey if anything ever happens to me the ER is just right there!") I showed up there, finger still covered with a paper towel I dare not take off, and you would be shocked how quickly they saw me. (Seriously, if you ever have to go to the ER for any reason, just know, if you are bleeding, they push you to the top of the list. Just FYI)
One hour, two stitches and three inches of gauze later, I walked out of the ER looking like I was newly engaged to a mummy.

I returned home, slumped onto my couch, stared at my left ring finger, and chuckled to myself. While so many women in my life were donning engagement rings & wedding bands on this very finger, I was sporting stitches and a splint. It was a perfect testament to the fact that I could not be LESS ready to take that step in my life. As clearly, if I can end up in the ER from the simple task of cutting a potato, I can't even take care of myself. It is proof that I am still learning, still too new to this whole adult thing to even consider replacing the gauze with a diamond.

I kind of loved the symbolism that had stumbled upon me during a time when my fridge is covered in bridal shower invites, wedding save-the-dates and baby announcements. (Although the method could have been a little less painful...) Opening my freezer to pull out ice cream is a constant reminder of how grown-up my dearest family and friends are becoming, and sometimes that can be scary to a girl like me who is still figuring out how to just be herself.

There are still so many things I want to do and experience before I take a step in my life where every decision I make centers around not only me but another person. I am not ready to share my closet with boy clothes. I like sleeping smack-dab in the middle of my queen-sized bed. I love not having to explain to someone why I am crying during an episode of Teen Mom. And most of all, I am in an absolute love affair with the freedom that comes with being 20-something and 100% in control of my own destiny.

Someday I might be ready to give all of that up, if the right boy comes along and sweeps me off my accident-prone feet. Knowing me, the "sweeping" will probably result in an injury - and if he's worth it, I won't care.

♥mb.