Table Settings

With three kids, my mom tried split the chores three ways, and we'd rotate each week: set the table, put the dishes away, or do the dishes. Setting the table was always my favorite task, not only because it was the easiest but also because it was the most fun. I loved putting the plates out, making a pattern with the different-colored plates or giving the girls pink and the boys blue.

And when company came, my mom would always save this task for me because she knew how much I loved it. (And maybe because she knew I really couldn't do much to help with the food?) Together, we'd add leaves to the dining room table while Steph and Joe and Daddy would help carry up chairs. We'd pick out the table cloth--the red and blue checkered, the sailboat checkered, the pink and green and blue checkered--and lay them out before getting the spray bottle and stretching them to get out the wrinkles.

The plates would be carried out from the kitchen, or sometimes if we were lucky (VERY LUCKY) we'd get to use the pink china and grape glasses. More often, the fancy silverware that was my dad's mom's would get pulled out from the buffet, along with the platters and salt and pepper shakers and candlesticks. Then we'd lay everything out, remembering how the placement went thanks to our cotillion training and the little tricks we'd picked up since. (The knife, spoon and fork were all in a fight. The fork left because the spoon and the knife were right.) And I would still try to make a pattern with the plates.

As I get ready for my dinner parties now, setting the table is still my favorite part. I rearrange the living room depending on many people we need to seat, put up the leaves in the drop-leaf table my father-in-law built custom for us, and lay out the tablecloths. Of course, one thing we didn't think of when designing the table was what size tablecloths we would eventually need, and I think of how excited I was when my dad and I realized that shower curtains fit just right, and together, my parents and I picked out the first shower curtain tablecloths for the first dinner party with them at our house.

It's fun for me to pull out some of our "fancy" things when we have people over--the silverware my family got us for a wedding gift that is essentially the same pattern as the one that was once my grandma's, the platters and pitchers and glasses from family and neighborhood friends, the plates and bowls from my aunt, the place card holders from a friend. There are so many people associated with our dinner parties that it seems as though everyone we love is there, even just in spirit.

And even when it's just me, my process is the same as it always was when helping my mom in our dining room with the view of the mountains. And especially when it's just me, I wish my mom was here so she could help me make sure the tablecloth is even on both sides.

Birthday Cake

My mom always made the best birthday cakes. They would be round two-layer cakes with buttercream frosting (that we would get to have on graham crackers, too, if there was extra), with our names iced on the top and, of course, candles for every year, served on a cake plate.

When we registered for the wedding, I made sure I included it so I also had a cake plate, almost exclusively for birthday cakes. Sadly, the poor guy has hardly been used at all, and never for a birthday cake. So this year for Nathan's birthday, I decided to put it to use.

Thanks to pinterest, I found a recipe for lemon-blueberry marble cake, on a blog called Lick The Bowl Good. I was a little worried as I started making it because it was a little more detailed than I thought I could handle (I mean, there was actual cake flour involved!) but they looked OK when they went in the oven and when they came out. I actually did the recipe a little differently, because I didn't have three round cake pans. I halved it, and split it between two pans, and the cakes came out just a little smaller, which was fine because it wasn't serving very many people. I also totally used the jar of jam vs. making them.

The frosting recipe, however, was something I knew was above my skill-set (and timeframe. and patience level.) So instead I used a basic white icing glaze, from Martha Stewart, which was preferable for Nathan anyway because he doesn't like frosting all that much. It didn't look as pretty though.

So there you have it, my first birthday cake baking experience. It turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself.

Finding Fancies

On Saturday, my mom and I hit up the shops in Downtown Littleton. I couldn't believe how much has changed in the small downtown Main Street. When I was in second grade, we took a field trip, stopping at Two Potters (I believe this was the name . . . )  and Chocolates by Mary Carol, which are now gone and replaced with Lola's Sweet Shop, where we stopped for half-price Valentine's Day-colored sour gummy bears and Twin Bings for my dad for his birthday, and a paint-your-own pottery shop. This is where my brother and I went to paint together before I left for college. He painted a fish for me that moved to Lincoln with me and has lived on my desk in each of the sorority rooms I moved into, my first apartment, and then my first real grown-up job. When we had the big move to the other building, the fish stayed on my desk, despite the suggestion it move to a drawer, and I would say it is one of my prized possessions; it now has a safe spot on my desk at home.

What has not changed is the number of antique stores, and we spent the morning exploring several. It has only been recently that I have acquired a vintage taste, though I don't think it's surprising, considering, well, my mom. She  took us to antique stores when we were younger, telling us to keep our hands in our pockets and DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. I am still to this day a very tactile (thanks for the word, Mom) shopper and not letting me touch anything may have been smart on her part (especially considering how clumsy I was) but was torture to a younger Whitney. But now that I'm older, I'm glad to go with her, because she knows what's new and old and what's a good price for the things I want. And I found many things that I wanted in Littleton Antiques and Such and the Pink Attic Cat, among other stores. I love vintage ribbon and lace, half-completed sewing projects, aprons, books, paper and postcards and photos. There were vintage glass door knobs, depression glass, champagne flutes, and other kitchen knick knacks that caught my eye. In the end, we walked out with four dessert/champagne glasses (mom) and a printer's press block in the shape of an L (me), plus a present for my friend Kaitlyn's wedding. But more than that, I walked out with a few ideas and lots of inspiration.

Road Trip Reflections

I decided to take a solo road trip home this weekend, leaving Nathan and Shelby to fend for themselves. One of the reasons I thought the part-time job was a good fit was that it would give me more time to take quick trips home to see my family. This week's work schedule, the weather, and the fact that it's my dad's birthday weekend gave me the perfect opportunity to hit the road.

It used to be that every time I left Colorado I would be hit with a pang of sadness telling my parents good-bye and pulling out of the driveway. Today, I was surprised that I felt the same way leaving Nathan and Shelby, which means that I finally consider Lincoln home (even though I'm sure that I'll still feel the same way when I leave Colorado Monday. I'm lucky enough to have two homes.)

My favorite companion on a road trip is a book on tape (or CD, as my case may be), at least when I'm driving alone. Some of my favorite past "reads" are Kitchen Privileges, Dear John, Certain Girls, and Marly and Me (though I only got about three-quarters of the way through because I could see where it was going). I'm listening to The Glass Castle now, and so far, I really like it. I find that a book on tape has to be just right. The best ones are funny, romantic, or biographical, in my opinion. And the reader has to be just right. We tried listening to a Laura Ingalls Wilder book on CD and it just did not work, especially with the fiddle playing and singing.

I was able to have company, however, on the last part of my journey. I picked up my  Grandma and we were able to catch up and talk about books and many other things. I'll get to take her back on Monday, too, and I'll be able to finish my book on CD on the last part of my journey.

Once I arrived home, I got dinner cooked by my mom and homemade hot fudge and now I'm enjoying cable TV. And I'm excited to sleep in my old room tonight.

A word fancies Where Side Note

Today's NYT (edit: yesterday's. I only found it today. It was meant to be.) has this article from Ann Patchett writing about her house. She is probably one of my favorite "modern" authors, and I love houses, so thus, I must love this article. Also, how moving is her last paragraph?

This is where I do exactly the thing I’ve always wanted to do, be a writer. This is the window from which I see entire days go by from dark to dark, never going farther than the end of my driveway. This is the place my husband comes back to every night, to this house where we were married and we are married. What I mean to say is that it is a good life wrapped in a good house.

 I feel I can definitely relate to this with our house, as it's the house we lived in when we got married and where we're starting our married life together, working together to make it ours and sarting to really persue what we want out of life. And we do have a good life, and a good house, even if it's not quite "finished" yet. But is anything ever finished? 

word fancies Where

I lied—I really thought I would be up this morning to write before I went to work, but the fact of the matter is, I’m a bad sleeper, and on the nights where I’m a really bad sleeper, I have a hard time getting up. Last night was one of those nights. I was up later than I should have been finishing a book and then kept having a crazy dream extension. When I was little, my cousin’s wife told me that if you try to go back to sleep in the EXACT same position, you would dream a continuation of the dream you were having before you woke up. Apparently that was the case last night, and while my dreams weren’t actually frightening, they were realistic and confusing and led to disorientation. Which leads to late wakeups.

But enough excuses, onto the where for the week. I’m going to focus not so much on where I literally write, but where we live: Nebraska. Don’t worry though—I’ll get to the house and my writing room eventually. And that will be a pictures post! I hope . . .

While I currently call Nebraska home, I was born in Colorado, and I have always been a mountain girl. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t camp, ski, hike, snowboard, or really do anything outdoorsy that you generally associate with mountains, though I have before. Rather, I like the way they look. I like seeing them at sunset, knowing which way is west, and just having them there. I appreciate the fact that my parents bought houses based on views rather than actual house conditions, because being able to see them right out a window there is almost comforting.

So how did I end up in Nebraska? This was a question that everyone asked me once I came here. It seems to be that people who live in Nebraska can’t fathom why anyone would come here willingly, and people who live anywhere else can’t fathom why anyone would want to come here.

Here’s how I would respond in college:

"I wanted to go somewhere out of state." This was true. While my schools were much larger than some of them here, particularly Nathan’s schools, I had gone to school with some of the same people since Kindergarten. Which isn’t a bad thing—it’s a great thing, in fact—but I was ready to branch out and not only get a new perspective, but be able to be who I was without people instantly putting me in a box that they had put me in back when we first met. Not like I had a bad reputation, quite the opposite in fact, but I wanted to learn who I was someplace new, rather than somewhere where people could still defer back to the Whitney they already knew.

"My parents are from here." Also true. My parents are originally from Western Nebraska and both graduated from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, where they met. (Note: However, because they are from Nebraska, it seems that they had something like two degrees of separation their entire lives. So it goes in this state—everyone knows everyone through one to three mutual acquaintances.) I am a sucker for tradition (aka routine), and I loved the idea of idea of attending a school that much of my family had. However, everyone assumed that my parents “made me” attend their alma mater. False. They were very supportive in my college hunt, and would have been proud no matter where I went.

"Valentino's Pizza." Partly true. I do love Val’s pizza. For those not familiar with it, Valentino’s is a restaurant that serves delicious pizza (and recently, I’ve discovered delicious spaghetti, too), and it’s really only a Nebraska thing, though they have branched out. It was always a special treat to have when we’d visit here, and during college on my way home, I’d stop in Ogallala to see my grandma and pick up half-baked pizzas to take home. Delicious.

But none of these were really my real reasons, and I don’t think I can ever really explain why I came here and why I love it, but I’ll try.

There’s a feeling of being here that’s hard to recreate. I’m not just talking about Husker game days, where you can feel pride and enthusiasm and unity in the air while you’re walking around or sitting in Memorial Stadium. That feeling lasts throughout the year and extends past our football team. I like that everyone seems to know everyone else and you can become friends with people you meet in everyday places. And yes, Nebraska can be conservative, but it’s also conservative in that it hasn’t lost values where you are generally nice to people, considerate and friendly, and people are willing to help you out if you need it.

I think that there is also a welcoming feeling. When I went on college visits, none of them felt as right as Nebraska did. I felt like anyone I talked to was glad I was here and wanted me here. While you can chalk that up to awesome recruiting efforts on UNL’s part, I don’t think I’ve lost that feeling as the years go by. And ultimately, this is why I chose to live in Nebraska, and I’m glad I did, even if I miss my Colorado people and the mountains.