Pink House Mornings

[Yes, I always get up first.]

The Pink House master bedroom is a good bit smaller than our old bedroom, so in a risky game-time decision we brought only our full size mattress with us. In true Dog People fashion, we were most concerned with how well Washburne would manage with the limited acreage.

As it turns out, he might actually be happier.


IKEA: Tetris For Grown-Ups

I’ve been reluctant to share some good news on here for fear of jinxing myself with bad joojoo, but…we sold our house and are moving to the 21701 this Friday! Hurrah!

The new house is different. Smaller. Requiring of a major trip to IKEA.

[In case you were curious, that right there is (1) kitchen island, (2) office chairs, (2) kitchen chairs, (1) bookcase w/ baskets, (1) bed frame, and (2) desks.]

Since I’ve been old enough to carry a box I’ve moved over 15 times. Steve has moved once, but (as far as I’m concerned) is a walking furniture assembly professional.

So yea, we got this.

And we’re really excited.

Well, we will be once all these stupid boxes are packed.

Hope you all had a great weekend!


You know we make salsa, right?

We didn’t get invited to any Memorial Day cookouts this year. Not one!

You all know we make salsa, right??

But in all honesty, it was actually quite nice not having anything to do. It gave us an extra weekend day to catch up on to-do lists, go grocery shopping, return all those wedding-related emails, read magazines, and unintentionally nap.

Which, by the way, is so much better than its intentional counterpart.

And then at one point, out of pure laziness coupled with intense hunger, we ate cereal for dinner.

I hope you had a great time playing cornhole and drinking on boats yesterday!

But seriously. Salsa. We make it.


Houston According to my iPhone

I volunteered to fill in for our meeting planner at one of our company conferences in Houston this past week. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this half of my job, this means a lot of answering questions (“When is lunch? Where is the bathroom? Do you notify my manager if I leave early?”), checking in on receptions and lunches, sitting at a registration desk, and constantly complaining about the room temperature.

While not always the case, this particular trip involved a lot of alone time. And as one might expect, it got quite lonely. I travel more than a few times a year, but usually with several co-workers, and often to spectacular cities like Las Vegas, Chicago, and Nashville, just to name a few.

Nothing against Houston (I didn’t venture out of my 3 block comfort zone at all, in its defense), but they sure do enjoy themselves some steakhouses.

Anyway, this is my trip, in sporadic Instagram fashion.

You can just tell he missed me, can’t you?

Oh, and in case you were curious:

For all their angus talk, I did nom on a delicious veggie burger while in Texas.

Hope you all had a nice little weekend yourselves.

Although my weekend was cut a bit short due to travel, it turned out rather lovely. But that could be the buttermilk pancakes with blueberry compote my awesome dude made me tonight for dinner talking.


Instagramification: Homesick

I’ve been in Houston since Tuesday afternoon. I have enjoyed 0 sun, 3 apocalyptic work-related meltdowns, 2 mango margaritas, and 1 melon and mint mojito. In short, I’m breaking even.

I’ve been documenting little bits and pieces throughout my stay here in Houston, but these gems are from the days before I left.

And the first block is completely food-related.

  1. There is something about the shape of a pasta that sometimes makes it especially appealing. This would be one of those times.
  2. We got a lemonade. He got two straws. He is 11 and no longer into sharing germs with me. *Tear.
  3. For the small fortune of $11-$15, you too can enjoy the Whole Foods salad bar for lunch. Whatever, it’s worth it.
  4. Plantains made the right way, with a side of sour cream.
  5. Illy iced coffee with a side of insulin.
  6. Bucatini pasta is probably my favorite kind of pasta. It’s essentially fat spaghetti with a hole in the middle. I call it “Hotel Pasta” because I only ever seem to see it when I travel, but alas, I found it at Juliet’s Italian Market downtown. See #9 for the perfect application.
  7. Illy iced coffee, without a side of insulin.
  8. Plantain Chips (1 plantain sliced very thin): 450 degrees, toss with olive oil, cinnamon, and a little nutmeg. Bake 10 minutes, flip. Bake another 10 minutes.
  9. Garlicky pasta with broccoli rabe.
  1. I got my eye on that concert uke right there. I set a goal for myself to learn two more songs before I can buy it.
  2. Girl’s Day: Nails, lunch, shopping, and drinks. “Nails” is why we are holding (me specifically) our hands as such, in case you were confused.
  3. See that guy behind Steve? See that knife? We hate that guy. I’m surprised you can’t hear his loud stupid mouth through the picture.
  4. Washburn.
  5. Washburne.
  6. My mama got me this little number. I like to send her pictures of me draped in all the things she buys me. It makes us both happy. Being the only daughter suits me.
  7. More awkward hands with beautiful nails.
  8. Let’s just get this out of the way: Yes, I sleep with a stuffed animal. His name is Pita the Cheetah. But more importantly, how cute is my dog?
  9. Hey, it can get sunny on the metro…

I’m a touch homesick, but this has been fun – and even a little bit helpful.


Instagramification: The Weekend, Avenged

Sometimes I begrudge busy weekends because I find they go by faster without the proper amount of relaxation. For some reason, be it the weather or sheer amount of fun I had, this weekend was the exception to the rule.

On Friday, Steve and I did a walk-through at our wedding venue, and subsequently (finally) set a date for September. Everything about planning seems more exciting now that things are coming together. Afterwards, we met a couple of friends for pizzas, beer, and fancy cocktails to ring in the weekend. The four of us together make for an especially inappropriate bunch, so suffice it to say we shared a lot of laughs.

Bright and early on Saturday morning I assembled 30 of my closest co-workers to privately screen The Avengers. I punched the air, yelped with anticipation, cried (yes, that’s right), and fell in love with Hawkeye. It was amazing.

Then later that evening, I watched one of my dearest friends from high school tie down his fiancé.

What I mean to say is he got married.

The weather was magnificent – a slight breeze during the outdoor ceremony, the sun peaking through the clouds on it’s way down to the horizon. The reception was equally beautiful. We ate, we drank, we danced, and celebrated yet another awesome couple taking the plunge.

During one of the last songs of the night which was some fantastically classic upbeat love song (that I can’t remember), I chatted up the newlyweds while they bopped back and forth on dance floor happily. Jill laughed and said “this was actually supposed to be our wedding song.” Turns out, the DJ had played the wrong song for their first dance. It was in that moment I just knew she was perfect for Mark, because I know tons of women (myself included) that wouldn’t get through the first verse without telling the DJ to change the song. She was just going with the flow and accepting the  inevitable glitches of the day. I really appreciated that about her, and I know Mark will too.

Sunday was more… slow moving. Needless to say, I’m still currently trying to get through it. I’m tired, perpetually thirsty, and chalk full on Indian food. I have 100 different to-do’s swirling around in my anxious Sunday mind, and I’m trying to pull it all together before Monday bites me square in the bum.

First order of business: Vegetable Noodle Soup with Peanut Butter & Jelly. Spending part of my Sunday making food might seem unproductive considering all the laundry there is to be done, but I’ve got this bag of wheel-shaped noodles just calling my name.

And I know, I know. What happened to Pancake Sunday? Pancake Sunday has been postponed one week. I like to listen to my body when it comes to food, and today it’s been telling me screaming, “Feed me veggies!”

And maybe also, “Maybe not so much wine next time, deal?”



** Steve just said the song was Your Song by Elton John. Aww.

Instagramification: Death By Squirrel

I wear my green pants a lot.

I also eat a lot of peanut butter and jelly.

Quiet often, both at the same time.

I had to go to The Hill on Friday to renew my press pass (I’m a Capitol Hill reporter, didn’t you know??), and though windy, it was a much-needed break from the office shuffle. I honestly don’t take advantage of our proximity to Washington, D.C. enough. It really is such a beautiful city.

OK, enough about that. I was almost eaten alive by squirrels.

Do you have any idea how ambivalent the D.C. squirrel community is to human danger? They’re positively mad, I tell you! There I was, taking a sweet shortcut through a Senate park on my way to Dirksen when I came upon what can only be described as a town meeting – of backwoods murder squirrels.

A strange, unfamiliar fear washed over me. I said to myself, “Brit, walk through the squirrels. They will surely scatter. You’re giant and human!” I took another nervous step forward when one (let’s call him El Jefe) looked me straight in the eye (NOT A HYPERBOLE)… and walked towards me. Like, “Walk, away lady. Walk away,” but with a Jersey accent.

He was holding a juice box. And a small serrated plastic knife. (POTENTIAL HYPERBOLE)

Oh, the droves of oblivious people all around me! They had no idea the danger they were in – making the fact that I turned on my heels and sprinted out of the park that much more comical.

I called Steve at his office, panting, squeaking inaudibly about how there was “NO WAY those were normal squirrels, right!?!”

I shake as I type this.

The goods news is I made it out alive. The bad news is I look like a deranged graduate student with a propensity to stalk male professors and set houses on fire in my new press pass picture. It’s all in the eyes, I think. And no, I won’t show it to you.

The great news is I came home to this awesome new Elephant Shirt sitting on my doorstep. It comes complete with Elephant Dance, but that’s more of an “in person” thing. Just ask my co-workers. 

At what point have I gone overboard with the elephant stuff? Oh, now? Noted.

I know we are already almost halfway through this week, but I hope you had a nice relaxing and squirrel-free weekend.

-Brit, Amateur Squirrel Hunter

Instagramification: The Freakin’ Wknd

  1. The least I could do after falling into a free wine tasting (while Steve was in the car with the dog) was bring him some delicious beer. And it is. It’s delicious.
  2. Lunch date at Le Orchard after designing our wedding bands. More diamonds? Sure.
  3. Steve and Toms.
  4. No matter how many times I try and tell him Gazpacho is just salsa, he still orders it.
  5. Paris stickers and a little elly notebook. I’m going to sticker everything.
  6. Elly earrings and Earth earrings from the boy. Earth Day!
  7. Vanilla Lemon Pie solid perfume. OOOoooooooh.
  8. I swear my dog is a cat and it cracks me up. Eventually his nose was literally in Steve’s ear. Subtle.
  9. My Wheaties. In bed. Kind of defeats the purpose, huh?
  10. The best planner ever. They’re pricey but awesome. They’re also heavy as shiz.
  11. “Come on, I like your haircut. Let me take pictures of you.”
  12. Spicy Black Bean Burger from FoCoCo. I’ve mentioned it before. It’s perfect.
  13. Southwest Poblano Cheddar Soup.
  14. Normal Sunday errand, but this time I stayed in the car. That was illegally parked.
  15. I hate buying magazines, but this, this I had to buy. All this time I’d been reading Outsiders Guides to Paris.
  16. Happy Earth Day, y’all. Check out mah globes!
  17. Eggless Egg Salad (a work in progress)
  18. Homemade pancakes on Sunday are becoming a bit of a thing around here.

I had a nice little weekend, if I do say so myself. Washburne had his first birthday with us, I ate pizza, went to the movie theatre (I don’t do this often), designed our wedding rangs, and looked at some venues. That last one was a little stressful, but I’m keeping my head about me.

It’s such a nice head, after all.

Hope you had a nice weekend!


Thursday Night: Wedding Planning and Pickled Crack

Ever since we had our son (one year ago on Saturday!), going out to dinner on the weeknights has been a rarity. I don’t know what it was about tonight in particular, but we threw caution to the wind tortured the pup a little bit longer, and had ourselves a nice little Mediterranean dinner.

So, I’m curious. What do couples talk about after the wedding?

I’m just kidding. I could talk for decades, even without a wedding to plan. But we do seem to find ourselves chatting about the Big Day a whole lot more now that the wheels are in motion. Well, maybe not in motion, but most definitely greased.

Yup. Super greasy wheels at this point.

(This is not a picture of greasy wheels)

…And I’m actually enjoying the process. Having such supportive parents has been a huge bonus.

As a matter of fact, my mother called me today with some wedding-related news. Turns out, she couldn’t wait until this weekend to see a particular venue, so she decided to stop on by…

And peek in the windows.

“It has great light,” she told me, sounding as if she were reaching for something. Like, maybe her footing (I didn’t think much of it at the time)?

“Natural light?” (I’m trying not to, but I’m clearly getting excited at this point.)

“There are bottles on the table. Someone was definitely having a party here recently…”

“Wait, what? Mom, what are you doing?”

For legal reasons the story ends there. But how lucky am I to have a mom that is literally so excited about my wedding that she goes out her way to bend the law for intel?

The answer is super lucky.

P.S. The Falafel Wrap at Mediterranean Grille comes with these bright pink pickled half-moon shaped bites of perfection (pictured above) that I think are pickled radishes? They are like crack.

What are they?

– Brit


Birchbox is an exercise in patience. Hi, I’m Brit, nice to meet you, and I don’t have any.

First I was on the waiting list. Then I got my “You have 48 hours from NOW to sign up for Birchbox” email. Finally my confirmation email. And then, it shipped. That was an email too.

I think in actuality that all took about 2 months, but I’m going to ballpark it as feeling more along the lines of 6. Like I said, no patience.

Sigh. First-world problems are exhausting. (My iPhone home button has been on the fritz too.)

But today! Finally! My very first Birchbox was waiting for me when I got home.

I loved the idea of Birchbox from the start. But I was especially excited to find how tailored it could be to my tastes/needs. For example, I have enough hair for 9 people. I don’t need volumizing hair spray, dry shampoo, or thickening conditioner. You can safely add blue eye shadow to that list too while we are at it.

This weeks’ Box (the very first of its kind) included:

  • exfoliating facial cleanser
  • daily moisturizer
  • hair serum
  • fashion tape (One of the applications is “adjust jean length.” I’m confused. I thought it was just run-of-the-mill booby tape?)
  • eye shadow
  • and Juicy Couture perfume

You can cruise their website for the details if you fancy, but basically for $10/month (or two Starbucks lattes) you can sample all kinds of super expensive products before you buy. It’s a marketer’s dream and I wish I’d thought of it.

[It’s like they were listening every time I screamed into my pillow for spending $50 on some beauty product I couldn’t return. I’m looking at you, Clinique Wrinkle Serum.]


Birchbox is under the impression I have red hair. I, in fact, no longer have red hair.

[Weird how truly not myself I feel with my natural (as far as I know – I haven’t seen it since the 90’s) hair color. On the bright side, I can wear teal again. On the sadder end of things, strangers don’t yell “Hey, Red! Love your hair!” anymore.]


1) Thank you Cara for introducing me to Birchbox. I can say with confidence we were on the upward swing of the movement. Which makes us hipsters. Hipsters!

2) I have a fantastic hair colorist. Slash Life Coach. Thanks for letting me show you how I can stand on the hair-washing station chair, bend my head over the sink, while letting you rinse me head from a totally different angle. That took trust on your part. And a good bit of balance on mine.

Holy Heck, is this week over yet?

– Brit