Frose is From Jesus (Or Wine Slurpees)

I know I was JUST talking about fall and Halloween decorations, but it’s 86 again and that sort of calls for frozen rose.

Jesus’ first recorded miracle was turning water into wine at a wedding and my first miracle involves a $5 bottle of rose*, 8 oz of strawberries, and my immersion blender.

It’s basically a wine slurpee, and it’s amazing. The link to the recipe is here.

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You need frose in your life. 

Trust me.

*I used Trader Joe’s La Ferme Julian which actually isn’t terrible by itself — especially for a $5 bottle of rose — but it’s even better when you add lemon juice and strawberry simple syrup.

 

The Sky is Falling (Or It Rained for a Minute)

It hasn’t rained in LA since May, but I woke up to precipitation this morning.

I mean, it didn’t legit-midwestern-thunderstorm rain — it LA misted for a minute and then stopped, but any sort of precipitation is cause for celebration (and car accidents) in SoCal.

The gray skies and cooler temperatures have me fantasizing about fall… and my macabre cake pan.

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Who doesn’t want a slice of skull cake?

It would go perfectly with this ice bucket I need from Pottery Barn.

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It is everything. (source)

These festive skeletons make me want to throw a Halloween party…

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Or recline in a tub of beer. (source)

Either one sounds good.

 

 

L-O-V-E (Or Fabulous Online Finds)

 

I fell in love online today.

See?

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Just look at those lines! (source)

It would be SO perfect with monogrammed pillows I ordered from Joss & Main.

Perfection (source)

Can you IMAGINE? (source)

The only problem?

This guy doesn't bathe regularly.

This guy sleeps on my couch… and he pees on his own feet.

He’s my favorite living creature, so I have to take him (and his pee feet) into consideration even if my design heart breaks a little each time.

So… I didn’t order the couch… and I died a little inside.

I did order these gilded creatures in an attempt to assuage my grief, though.

I can't wait to throw a party with these! (source)

The angry hippo is my favorite. (source)

They make me want to plan a party.

So does the frozen rose in my freezer.

More on that later….

XOXO

 

Nectarine and Burrata Salad (Or Friday I’m in Love)

Yesterday I decided to walk to the grocery store and stock up my (new) refrigerator since I actually live in my own apartment again.

I might have looked like a high end homeless person sporting a Prada bag while pushing my laundry cart full of wine, roses, and nectarines down Hollywood Blvd, but whatever. I was multitasking by getting exercise and groceries at the same time.

Today I made a nectarine and burrata salad with mint, arugula, and pickled onions from yesterday’s haul.

See?

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You should come over for lunch.

I don’t think the onions had time to pickle properly otherwise the recipe was pretty flawless. Next time I make it I will soak them in vinegar and sugar ahead of time and toss them with the peaches at the last minute.

If you want to make it, you can find it on epicurious here.

Happy Weekend!

 

Things (Or I’m Writing Again)

I took down my Airbnb listing recently and cancelled my last reservation today. Long story… but it was time.

I’m not sad about it. Airbnb was a zany experience to say the least, and I had a longer run than I had expected when I set out on the adventure.

I’m incredibly glad to be home and within arm’s reach of all my shoes, so there’s that. (The things we take for granted….)

In other news, I’m still having fun waiting tables at the Saloon, I started writing a new pilot, and I’m looking forward to an incredible Michigan football season.

The Wolverines destroyed Hawaii 63-3 last Saturday, and our preseason #7 ranking rose to #5 as a result. I’m going back to Ann Arbor for the Wisconsin game on October 1, and the crew making the pilgrimage to the Holy Land is growing daily.

Plus?

My entire family will be home for my Nana’s birthday that week, so I’m going to party at the cabin with the rest of the Russell Clan while I’m in Michigan. #winning

So this was an inane non-post post, but my head has gone other places.

I could tell you about the (working) actor who comes into the Saloon and tells me, “You have comedy in you. You should do stand up,” but I suspect he’s hitting on me, so I take THAT with a grain of salt. I’m just going to keep writing my new pilot instead of planning to participate in an open mic night with people who are actually funny…..

This is me writing at the moment. I’m sweaty from a rather ill-advised walk to Trader Joe’s with a laundry cart. (Don’t ask.)

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It’s probably better I’m a bit out of focus.

Back to the pilot.

More later.

XOXO

On the Couch (Or Confessions)

Remember LAST spring when I rented my place on Airbnb for the first time? Remember when I thought it was going to be a short-lived experiment?

Well, 15 months later I’m still renting it to travelers from Egypt to Australia and everywhere in between.

It takes a toll on me. I’m not going to lie.

Even though my friends are awesome for letting my big beast and me stay with them, it’s hard not to be home. Sure, I have streamlined my packing process and my after-hours check in procedures so I don’t have to wait for international travelers at all hours of the night, but if I’m being honest, I’m ready to stop for a while.

I’m ready to finish the repairs and upgrades my place desperately needs, to have a proper dinner party on my yet-to-be-christened mahogany table, and I’m ready to know all of my shoes are in my closet instead of a bag on the floor.

So, I finally rejected a couple of requests from Parisians and blocked a week off my calendar. Now I can stay home to deal with my place… and the mail that gets neglected when I’m living like a nomad.

I tackled the refrigerator upgrade last weekend with middling success (see injuries here), and now I’m ready to replace my couch.

My parents bought my current one for me when I graduated from USC, and it had two removable slipcovers back then. Four rescue dogs, 45 international travelers, and 13 years later, I’m down to one slipcover that is absolutely in tatters.

It’s time for an upgrade.

See?

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Horrifying furniture AND photography.

The challenge is finding a sleeper sofa I don’t hate for under $1,000. I found one that wasn’t bad at Cost Plus, but it didn’t have removable (read: washable) cushions, and it only pulled out into a twin, which won’t really work for a lot of reasons.

It was CLOSE to being right, but…

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Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.

I found another option I don’t despise online, but it’s hard for me to commit without seeing it up close.

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OBVIOUSLY not with those atrocious throw pillows. Source

Also? It only comes in pebble which wouldn’t be catastrophic, but I think I want dark gray.

I’ve been scouring Craigslist for over a month, but that has been a bit of a bust thus far.

So… I confess I’m not quite sure what to do about the couch, I’m a bit sick of renters, I’m tired of living like a refugee… and my other confession?

I have writers block.

I know that sounds crazy considering I wrote two blog posts this week, but it’s really just procrastination because I don’t know what to do with my pilot, my second feature, or the first feature I’m converting into a novel.

I’m just not feeling that inspired.

Now that I’m home and rejecting rental requests for a while, I’m going to make myself write.

Hold me to it, K?

Thanks, internet.

Forehead and Forearms vs. Fridge (Or I Lose)

Eight years ago I bought a used fridge when I moved into my place. A few years into our relationship, I painted it with stainless steel paint to hide its glaring whiteness.

In the process of pulling off the handles for painting, one hit me in the face.

Hard.

I had a massive contusion on my forehead for a few weeks. (I had to buy a ridiculous hat from H&M to hide it.)

That fridge served me well for years (minus the forehead assault), but it has been on its way out for the last year or so. I refused to buy a new fridge for a place I’m renting on principle so I started scouring Craigslist for a replacement.

After a month, I found a candidate… in Compton.

Yes, Dr. Dre’s City of Compton.

Apparently, the guy had been trying to sell it for a while but everyone bailed on him when he told him where he lived.

People are idiots.

I mean, maybe I’M an idiot for driving 21 miles south to the hood to go to a stranger’s garage with him, but considering the deal I got on a stainless steel situation I’d say I won.

The only catch?

I didn’t have anyone to help me haul it.

I didn’t think that was going to be a big deal because I moved my last fridge by myself with a dolly. I figured I’d just rent a truck with a ramp and a dolly and I’d be fine.

Yeah, not so much…

I didn’t realize how heavy the fridge was because the guy who sold it to me put it in the truck for me. Maybe the grimacing and the sweat on his brow should have tipped me off, but he was kind of small, so I didn’t really think too much about it until it was my turn to haul that thing solo.

I struggled to tip it on its end to roll it, but I finally managed. As I held it at the edge of the ramp, I grimaced in pain as the weight of the enormous appliance rested on my forearms.

OMIGOD, it hurt.

Once I was sure I had the wheels aligned properly on the edges of the ramp, I started the slow descent to the street. By this point, my arms were aching, and I was grateful my thighs had the strength to keep the fridge (and me) from flying uncontrollably into the street.

I survived that ordeal and made it across the sidewalk, but I was absolutely out of breath. It turns out stainless steel weighs A LOT more than whatever my last fridge was made out of (clouds and cotton candy?!?).

Totally spent and in pain, I looked at the two small steps standing between me and my building. They weren’t that big. They should not have been daunting, but my forearms were already aching from the ramp. I couldn’t face steps alone.

So I started my SOS texts.

I generally try to avoid damsel in distressing it, but this situation was out of my hands.

My friend Lauren, who is an absolute angel, called me back and offered to come over. While I waiting for her to arrive, my neighbor Mel came upon me sitting on the steps, looking a bit bruised and pathetic.

It turns out his grandfather had owned a moving company back east and he offered to help.

Long story short (too late), Lauren and Mel are absolute angels and they bailed me out of a situation wisdom probably could have prevented in the first place, but now I have a fabulous fridge.

(I bought them gift cards to the bougie pet store up the street because I know when I’m indebted to incredible people, and they both have rescue dogs who deserve pampering.)

So, anyway, here’s the appliance that almost killed me and my arms:

Welcome home, fridge. Thank you for hosting my bacon and my beer.

Welcome home, fridge. Thank you for hosting my bacon and my beer. You’re worth it.

Now I’m adoring it while icing my arms because moving it all but kind of killed me.

Repurposing an already indispensable item = winning.

Winning with wine pacs.

If you can handle gore, this is why I need the ice:

Fridge > forearms

Fridge > forearms

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I swear the only abusive relationship I’m in is with a large appliance.

It’s actually a little worse today than it was when I took these pics last night, but I’ll spare you those pics

Instead, I’ll conclude with this: both fridges did damage to my forehead and my forearms, but I’m grateful for cold wine… and the angels who helped me haul the pretty new one into my place.

My crew rules.