Mama’s Got a Brand New Home

ACK!!!

I haven’t been this excited in so long. I cannot believe I ever doubted my decision to get my new apartment.

The ultimate luxury:

The living room!

More living room!

One of TWO walk-in closets!

And this is just with my crappy camera phone! At night!

I cannot wait to move in next weekend. CAN. NOT. WAIT.

Also, p.s. one of the other great things I realized about hitting the 5-minute/1-month mark of post-breakup is that FINALLY, I can stop listening to my breakup anthem songs, Rilo Kiley’s “Silver Lining” and “Breakin’ Up.” Because, LET ME TELL YOU, there is a point at 987 plays at which a song becomes less of an anthem and more of a death march.

I needed some change.

New music, new home, woohoo!

Five-Minute Mark

I’ve written a couple grumpy entries and then deleted them the morning after.

I had been figuring to myself, well, it’s OK to be grumpy for a while after you’ve been dumped, it’s natural, right?

But tonight, on the treadmill (small miracle), I realized, I am a MONTH into dumpee status. This has got to stop!

And you know, I am a believer in the Sex in the City half-time rule — you remember? Basically, it takes you half the length of your relationship to get over a breakup?

Looking over my previous relationships, I have to say this rings true.

Also, math makes everything better.

Relationship = 1 year-ish
Recovery time = 6 months-ish

So I figure I am at the 5-minute mark of a 30-minute treadmill run. You know that point where you’re like, crap?! I am only 1/6 of the way through? Can I stop yet?

But then, you know? Five minutes later, you’re at the 10-minute mark and holy crap, you’re a third of the way through! So I figure by December 21st, I’m GOLDEN. I’m warmed up, I’m starting to sweat, I’ve worked off some pecan brittle, and Devtochka is telling me I’m the Queen of the Surface Streets, and hello? I’ve got a Duraflame in my new FIREPLACE in my new apartment and I’m in the home stretch.

That’s what I’m hoping for, in any case.

In the interim, here are the photos from my Fun! Old-Fashioned Family Thanksgiving in Ann Arbor, home to my brother and his wonderful wife, Jen.

We toured the Google facilities and saw the infamous Google snacks:

We visited the hallowed Zingermans (holy crap, highly recommend their food baskets for Christmas gifts), where babies are half off.

And I saw Laurie‘s book in the first Borders EVER!

What I loved the most is that a Borders worker helped me find the Crafts & Collectibles section, and when I sheepishly admitted that I was only there to take a picture of my best friend’s book, he was like, “Oh, would you like me to be in the picture reading it?”

Midwesterners are kind. And they wear fanny packs. OK, not all of them.

Also, for everyone who asked about the ridiculously easy pecan brittle recipe:

Nut Brittle

– Unsalted butter, softened, for baking sheet
– 1 1/2 cups butter
– 1/2 cup light corn syrup
– Pinch of salt
– 2 1/2 cups nuts, such as dry-roasted peanuts, cashews, almonds, hazelnuts or pecans, or toasted pumpkin seeds
– 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
– 1 teaspoon baking soda
– Vegetable oil, for spatula

1. Brush a 9-by-13-inch rimmed baking sheet with butter, and oil an offset spatula*; set aside. Put sugar, corn syrup, and salt in a medium saucepan with 1/4 cup cold water. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring until sugar has dissolved. Wash down the sides of the pan with a wet pastry brush to prevent crystals from forming. Cook, swirling the pan occasionally, until the mixture registers 238 degrees on a candy thermometer (soft-ball stage). Stir in nuts, and continue to cook, stirring often so that the nuts do not burn, until the mixture is medium amber in color.

2. Carefully stir in vanilla and baking soda (the mixture will foam up)***.

3. Pour onto prepared baking sheet, and using oiled offset spatula, quickly spread into a 1/2-inch-thick layer**. Let cool completely.

4. Break brittle into pieces if desired. Store in an airtight container at room temperature up to one month.

It doesn’t take five minutes, but it’s insanely easy.

* What the heck is that? I used one with a slanted edge and hoped for the best, worked fine.

** Yeah, I just spread it out and figured why would a recipe create more than the depth is calls for? Turned out fine!

*** Totally does, SCIENCE!!

There Is a Disturbance in the Force, OR Happy Thanksgiving!

DUDE. Something is wrong here.

I told you I was planning to move. What I didn’t tell you (because I didn’t want to jinx it, knock on wood, throw some salt over my shoulder) is that I actually found a new apartment on Saturday morning. THE VERY FIRST ONE I SAW. WHICH I PAID A DEPOSIT ON TODAY AND WILL MOVE INTO IN LESS THAN TWO WEEKS.

I’m sorry for the abundance of all caps, but MAN, I have mentioned my loathing for finding a new apartment before, almost a year ago. Literally? When I looked for this crappy apartment? I saw at least 25 apartments in two weeks WHILE HOLDING DOWN AN 8-6 JOB before I realized I’d never find anything better.

This time? Before I went? I told myself (I engage in a lot of talking-tos with myself, I’m completely sane and awesome that way): “Jen, you have all the time in the world, you will go see this ONE (NOT TWELVE) apartment because it is the only one that looks exactly like what you want, and, if it doesn’t work out? You will wait until next weekend and then you can see ONE OTHER (NOT TWELVE) apartment that looks exactly like what you want.” And you know what?

Oddly enough, this one fulfills every requirement I had back in January, two stories for my fat cats, hardwood floors, functioning dishwasher, direct sunlight, and you know what else? Washer-dryer, a FIREPLACE, an unobstructed view of the Hollywood sign and the Griffith Park Observatory — and it’s in walking distance of a Trader Joe’s, my favorite wine shop, and has TWO (!) PARKING SPACES. And NO HOMELESS PEOPLE (love you homeless people, just don’t love your piss in my staircase at 7:00 a.m.).

And sure, it has the tiniest oven I have ever seen and there is glass block on the staircase, but you know what? I know can throw a stove-top-created dinner party, and the 80s are long enough ago I can ironically tip my hat to their architecture, right? AND I WILL NEVER FIND ANYTHING BETTER, even if I saw 25 other apartments.

So anyway, I can’t believe what effect even FAKING a totally zen attitude has had on my luck!

Or really, I can’t believe how easy it is to behave like a sane person.

So here I am, realizing being a sane person rocks. And so tonight, even though I really wanted to procrastinate and watch DVR’d episodes of goodness-knows-what and wake up at 5 a.m. to pack for Thanksgiving and probably arrive at my brother and his wife’s house empty-handed and sans toothpaste, instead I actually made some pecan brittle for my family:

And now I’m off to pack.

Like a sane person. Totally zen. Disturbing The Force.

Happy Thanksgiving!

p.s. Thanks for all your congratulations! You make me so happy! After Thanksgiving I will spread the love to your lovely blogs!

p.p.s. Normally I do not mind when people on TV get older, that happens and whatnot, but does anyone else find the fact that the Verizon Wireless network guy (“Can you hear me now?”) is aging SCARY? He is not OLD or anything, but for some reason I find this even more disturbing than the fact that I can no longer tolerate “The Real World.” Perhaps he is our Maytag repair man?

You’ve Been LAWYERED.

Thank goodness my ISP restored my internet on Friday morning, considering the bar results came out on Friday evening and I really didn’t want to be learning THE FATE OF MY ENTIRE LIFE in Kinko’s, scaring/scarring the struggling actors that spend their evenings there retouching their 1989 headshots using Microsoft Paint with my a) sobbing, or b) mimicry of dancing bunnies.

Instead, safely at home I did both, only the crying was from relief and the dancing more closely resembled a Scottish jig. And it was the cats I scared/scarred.

In any case! I PASSED!! Whee!!!

Which is a good thing because my sister has been telling me I should use Marshall from How I Met Your Mother‘s phrase, “You’ve been lawyered” for months now and I had to grumpily reply, “But I’m NOT ONE YET.”

But now? I plan on using it with abandon. OK, not really, most people hate lawyers, but whee! I don’t have to retake, which, as Christine says, is well, one less thing.

One of the other things I plan on doing is living like an adult again. I’ve lived in this little 1-bedroom apartment with hideous carpet since I broke up with my boyfriend in 2003. Moving here was depressing — I’d left a two-bedroom condo with a fireplace and hardwood floors. I had told myself it was temporary, but then along came law school and holy crap, it’s 2007 and the litter box is still in my pantry. AWESOME.

I’ve had enough. I’m moving.

Also, I’m making holiday cards, yay! Sending them out every year is on my (in serious need of updating) list of 100 Things I Want To Do Before I Die, and have I done it ONCE since I made that damn list? No.

So here I go:

Ignore the weird “u” in “you.” I’m sure something will be off on all my cards, but for now I’m pretending it’s OK because it’s just a prototype.

The inside will read: “…warmth and whimsy for your home and hearth this holiday season.”

I totally thought glitter was dead, but then the new issue of Blueprint had these wonderful glittered candles and I thought, why not?

Also, continuing my love affair with winter root vegetables, I made Honey-Roasted Parsnips (liked ’em even better than the squash) this evening from Martha’s Everyday Food. Recipe below.

And p.s. My holiday card picture is from long enough ago that it’s in the public domain and I’m not committing a copyright violation in using it. There. You’ve been LAWYERED. Ha. (Don’t hate me.)

Honey-Roasted Parsnips

– 2 1/2 pounds parsnips, peeled, halved lengthwise and cut into 2-inch lengths on the diagonal
-2 tablespoons olive oil
– course salt and ground pepper
– 1 tablespoon honey

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Divide parsnips and oil between two rimmed baking sheets and toss. Season with salt and pepper.

2. Roast until parsnips are tender and starting to brown, 35 to 40 minutes, tossing halfway through. Transfer to a serving bowl, drizzle with honey and stir to coat.

Apparently I’m Going for More of a Matte Look

Well, all my shiny-ness lasted for approximately 1 day, woohoo!

I am not going to bore you with the details of The Matte Period of my life in in the interim.

BUT I went to dinner tonight with a friend for the first time in oh, FOREVER, it seems.

And — shocker — I’ve got plans this weekend. Who knew?

The guy (friend) I went out with tonight also went through an enormous breakup a while ago, and he was telling me that one of the best things that he learned from it was that people DO NOT CALL YOU, you have to call them, and that is A-OK! It is GOOD to reach out, it’s alright to email, you are not bothering people, they are wrapped up in their own lives but are happy to hear from you and will make room for you where they can.

So true.

And! Speaking of surprises and prophetic, awe-inspiring insights, can I tell you that I have hit upon one of the great catch-22s of mankind?

No, really, I have.

This week I tried to, in addition to, via scones, depriving Starbucks of $1.75 or whatever in breakfast food revenue a day, hit its uber-chain bottom line hard by making my own coffee. And apparently? Um, you have to have already have HAD your coffee in order to remember to BRING the coffee that you have spent 10 precious minutes making — that you could have been SLEEPING through, fyi — with you to work?

Ah, the irony. I’ve got one hand in my pocket and the other one is drearily shelling out $1.60 for my small coffee in medium cup, please (I use a LOT of cream).*

But, people! Go forth and scone yourselves! By people I mean cowpuppetsofdoom and margaritavillain (nice names, man, i am so creative with the “jen” i use everywhere). All it takes is a scone mix from Whole Foods (my favorite, actually ended up hating the scones I made with my Ralph’s currant scones mix), some whole milk, some eggs and if you are super ambitious a scone pan and some fennel seeds on top (my favorite), and you are in scone heaven.

Anyhoo, that’s as much as I can manage, my shiny-ness being on hiatus and all. I hope it’s enjoying itself, the missing shiny-ness. I hope it’s just on a quick vacay to the BVI but is back on Friday with a tan and perhaps a yacht owner it’s tired of and is ready to swing my way. But I’d be happy if it just had a slight sun-kissed glow, is well-rested, and is ready to shine up my life again. Too much matte isn’t good for the pores, you know.

* Yes, I realize I have adopted Alanis’ horrible definition of irony, but this is what happens to you when you are too lazy to think on your own.