400 Marshmallow Peeps

I have a thing about Peeps marshmallow candies. I like them them. A lot. I like their soothing uniformity. I like their weird waxy, mole-like eyes. I like their cheerful, sometimes lurid colors. I like their pop art appeal. I like that they are something only Americans would invent, much less eat.

And yes, I like eating Peeps. People often ask me, "Do you really eat them? Seriously?" Yes, my friends, and with relish. Once when I was really hungry my sister Ashley had to pry a 12-pack from my hands before I could snarf them all down in one sitting. They're light as air, crunchy on the outside and gooey on the inside. Their only flavor is pure, unadulterated sugar. What's not to like?

I have made friends over Peeps. Peeps lovers tend to bond. Check out my photographer friend Corey Lesh's awesome "Peep Show" photos here. I like the "Peeps in a hot tub" and jello mold Peeps best. Corey was the photographer for a website I used to work for, and his Peeps photos were the first thing that greeted me when I walked through his studio door. We were fast friends.

I wouldn't say I've made enemies over Peeps, but I have definitely been dis-esteemed by the occasional Peeps-hater who perhaps lost too much enamel, or wasn't loved by his mother. People have strong feelings about Peeps.

Inspired by New York chocolatier Jacques Torres, Jamie, Olivia and I tried making our own chocolate-covered Peeps last Easter. SO GOOD. So, at the risk of being tacky, I called the Just Born people, and after some cajoling and pulling of strings, talked them into sending me two crates of marshmallow Peeps for my wedding. I cannot tell you how giddy I was for a full week, knowing that 400 marshmallow Peeps were on their way to my house.

Most brides won't admit it, but you can tell by their glazed-over expression that wedding planning is not that fun. I know it can sound like sacrilege--but as intimate, soulful and joy-filled as a marriage ceremony or marriage for that matter may be, wedding planning is stressful. And when you've spent all day deciding between dots and plaid; apricot chicken or teriyaki beef; and I mean you've really, really soul-searched over it, wedding planning can even feel vapid.

After poring over buttercup vs. daffodil yellow and the merits of a band over a D.J., 400 marshmallow Peeps make a lot of sense. It's the little, silly things that keep it fun for me, and keep me from going a little (more) insane.

Her Treasured Day

I got so excited about the cake decorations yesterday, I almost forgot about the cake toppers. Which is what I was looking for in the first place. The only bad thing about this vintage 20's topper is that this pair might actually show you up at your own wedding. I love how perfectly romantic yet sassy this bride is, from her brief veil to her pink shoes and turned-up nose. And the groom--when was the last time you saw a white tie, fedora and spats? (Costume parties don't count).

Engraved in the bottom of this piece are the words, "Her Treasured Day." It's funny, but I like it. Wedding mags and such are always talking about "Your Day" or "The Big Day" like it's some sort of impending doom. My smart friend Olivia pointed out that many of our social rituals feel like they fail because we put so much emphasis on them, and idealize them, that they rarely live up to the hype. I like thinking of a wedding day as a treasured day: one that is valuable more in reflection than anticipation. And it is just one treasured day, one of many treasured days that begin when you start a new family.

Fancy Flours

While I was shopping for vintage cake toppers on the Internet today, I came across this site that has way too many fun things to bake with. I could spend a lot of money on sprinkles, dragees, nonpareils, candied flowers, picks, sanding sugar and quins...whatever the heck quins are. That's my kind of craft closet. This could be the site that launched a thousand cupcakes.

These sugar crystal pansies would be darling on individual cupcakes, or scattered all over a round cake.

Remember these? Straight out of your girlhood musical jewelry box. Perfect for a little (or big) girl's birthday.

I'm obsessed with the idea of making old-fashiony birthday cakes for my friends. Of course, that hasn't happened yet. But wouldn't these sugar flower buttons look cool topping old-timey swags of frosting on a layer cake?

I love the idea of a birthday cake completely covered with this dot confetti until you could hardly see the frosting. Cute for iced sugar cookies, too.

Please note the mouths on these vintage Halloween picks--each one is awesome. At first I thought I liked the pumpkin's grimace best--but look at the witch!

A big prize--okay, just bragging rights--goes to whoever comes up with the best use for this royal icing molded brain. Lobotomy party, anyone?

See all of Fancy Flour's goodies here.

Little Twin Stars

Tonight my mom dragged me, my dad, and my dog out to the street so we could watch the space shuttle and the International Space Station glide across the night sky. Apparently, the shuttle just un-docked and the two are in orbit together and unusually visible from Earth. At first all we saw was Venus, but then there it was...a little row of blinking lights trailed by just one tiny light. They went by fast (they are travelling at 18,000 mph), and we watched them for just a couple minutes before they disappeared behind the mountains.

Dwarfed by the darkness, it was endearing to see them together--like a little brother following a big brother. I imagine it must be comforting up there to have a friend close by. Hurtling through space, bound by a single orbit, is kind of a nice way to think about friendship.

They will be visible again Wednesday night, check out the times at Nasa Skywatch here.

Say hi to your brother Tito for me! OR, Should one trust a man with the word "musk" in his name?

Self-taught, no lessons. Thank you very much, POP.

They were coooooooones!

Once again, information that could've been brought to my attention YESTERDAY.

Now, take off my Def Leppard T-shirt before you jinx it and the band breaks up.

I could go on and and on. I maintain that this movie is perfectly cast, and I quote from it constantly, even though usually no one gets the joke but me. Plus, WC ended up being closer to home than I could've imagined when it came out in 1998. I really need to find a band for my reception...(maybe something like Robbie the lead singer for Final Warning, in a silk shirt and spandex pants, singing into the microphone like David Lee Roth...)

Okay, I was thinking of something a little more timely. Anyone have any great ideas outside the usual Salt Lake Joe Muscalino route? I prefer a horn section. But I'm flexible.

Somebody get some pants on that kid!

Notebook-O-Rama

I recently wrote about my favorite notebook, which is an old library book filled with blank pages. Thanks to Rachel C, I now know that I could write myself silly and never run out of these gems, because Ex Libris Anonymous is putting school libraries out of business cranking out these things.

Here are just a few book journals that could soon grace my bookshelf:

Letters from kids who have mistaken Smokey Bear for Santa Claus. Not that crazy if you think about it; kids mix up Santa Claus and Jesus all the time.

Vikings are the new pirates. You heard it here first.

Cool notebook + beach cruiser bike?! My head might explode.

Scientist = Sexy. This has long been a mantra of mine. This notebook would be great for anyone looking to attract cute nerds on the subway or bus. Just hold this up, scribble in it madly, and mutter terms like "plate spectrometer," "molecular structure," and "flux capacitor."

Meanwhile, this might be creepy enough to ward off weirdos on the subway. Remember that children's T.V. show with the guy who wore the body-parts leotard? What was that called?

Is it just me, or do these kids look slightly malevolent?

Now if only I weren't so busy surfing the Internet and shopping for new notebooks, I might actually get some writing done.

Trash the Dress

Has anyone else ever heard of this? Apparently it is a new trend to "trash" your bridal gown in a photo session after your wedding. I understand the post-wedding angst that might be relieved by destroying your dress by rolling in mud, floating in a swamp, or, on a particularly self-destructive streak, setting the frock aflame while you're still wearing it. (All of these scenarios have been captured by photographer John Michael Cooper who apparently started the craze, see photos here.)

My problem with this isn't the actual destroying of the dress, it's the capturing it on film in fashion-photog style. Rather than a blunt-force closure, this seems a way to drag out the "I'm in the wedding spotlight" moment even longer. It's one more wedding must-have that kind of makes my head swim. True, I probably won't ever wear my gown again (a common rationale for the "trashers"), but if I already have engagement photos, bridal portraits, pictures of the ceremony, reception, and close-ups of artistically presented food at said reception, do I really need another set of pictures of me on the beach, wearing organza, cat-crawling toward the camera?

I've always thought that wedding gowns might make amazing parachutes. If anyone wants to work out some post-wedding angst, pull on that ballgown and let's go skydiving--or at least maybe the high-dive at the local pool. No cameras, just some freaking amazing cannonballs. Who's coming with me??

Inspiration

My sister Ali said she planned her living room around just one pretty blue vase. Can I plan a whole wedding around a...box of note cards? I saw this box on sale at Kate's Paperie (which is sadly moving its Soho location) and it just kind of spoke to me in that little "pick me!" voice that fuels impulse buys. It's the same voice that compelled me to buy a T-shirt with a picture of an angry-looking muffin on it (which gives me a warm-fuzzy feeling when I wear it, despite the puzzled looks it draws from others). I've started to feel like this notecard box is sort of "me." I went so far as to make precious space for it in my suitcase for my trip to Utah.

It's kind of gross when a retail product warms the cockles of your heart or becomes identity-affirming, but I like to think this is usually triggered because it harkens to something else that is more substantial than retail therapy. This sunny color reminds me of my girlhood bedroom which was shades of yellow with Holly Hobby sheets and decor. I think Holly Hobby was cool even before Care Bears, and actually, I don't even know if it was cool. This was back when my mom was into Neil Diamond and let me wear my Batgirl underoos a good part of the day; I don't think fashion/cool cred was big in our household at that point.

For some reason I've always liked yellow since I was a kid. The 50's yellow-and-white checked tile at my grandma's house. The way the light in Utah is more yellow than on either of the coasts. It suits me. So, I think this is the "color" for my flowers and maybe bridesmaid dresses. This is serious, because apparently once you choose a color, everything in the wedding has to coordinate (I like these flower girls, but this redhead clashes with your chartreuse favors and cummerbunds...) So I guess this is my "color." Because I liked a box of paper.

p.s. Do weddings make everyone sentimental? Note mention of my grandmother in like three of the last posts.

Swappin'

Blog swappin', that is. I joined my friend Marta's mellow+yellow swap a couple months ago. I had never done a swap before. As far as I can tell, a swap is basically one girl chooses a theme, a bunch of other girls get paired up, and then buy presents for each other around that theme.

This seems to suit the female personality in a few ways: 1. Shopping opportunity. 2. Fulfill girlish pen-pal fantasy. 3. Show off the cute stuff you got via your blog (this is kind of like the cyber version of the "look what I got shopping today" female ritual).

The swap suits my personality because I like getting presents, and I have a December birthday. (Potential mothers out there DO NOT conceive in March if at all possible, do your child a lifetime service!) Since I am not a mother, father, elected official, or celebratory figure who has swag shipped to me, I only get presents once a year. Thanks to the invention of the swap, I can now receive presents year-round. It's like a sign-up birthday for those of us with birth-date bitterness.

Since I was late in partaking of step #3 of post-swap satisfaction (show off goods) I now present to you my swap loot from Jen. Note the hand-made card and baked goods plus baked-goods accoutrements, but most importantly, check out this little makeup bag. It is HAND-EMBROIDERED with one of my favorite things in the whole world: A beach cruiser bicycle. I have a blue beach cruiser called the Schwinn "Debutante" and this little bag pretty much made my month. There is a real thrill in having something made just for you--I think my grandma might've been the last to sew something for me. Actually, scratch that, my grandma doesn't sew, but she used to be pretty good with puff paint.

Come to think of it, swapping fills female fetish #4: Make cute/useful stuff for other people. Even though I didn't hand-make anything in the swap package I sent out (sort of deficient in the DIY/craft category), color-coordinating and choosing stuff to please someone else was satisfying in a way I haven't experienced since making cards with crayalos.

Big thank you's to Marta and Jen. Check out Marta's adorable handmade stationery here, and Jen's cool sewing and knitting projects on her blog.

Best Western

It's not easy to find a wedding invitation that evokes the west that isn't rustic or cowboy-kitschy. This invitation from Hello! Lucky Letterpress is awesome. I especially love the scrollwork on the outer envelope, which reminds me of the rainbow stitching on the thrift-shop Tony Lamas my grandma bought for me.

Check out the entire stationery set here

Something Borrowed...

Anyone have a spare $5,000 to float me for a Madina Vadache gown? If there is one thing I've learned in my foray into the wedding underworld, it's that it can all be taken very, very seriously. Apparently, Miss Vadache is poised to be "the new Vera Wang," but I like her because she's in the bridal biz and she looks like she's having FUN.

Her sensibility harks to the traditional--but doesn't take gowns too seriously, employing girlish ruffles and playful embellishments. This little number in Alencon Lace, for example, sports peachy organza roses on its skirt tiers. It's luxe and fun. It's classy and creative. This dress looks like it could walk down the aisle to Pachelbel's Canon in D, but karaoke at the reception that night. Not that that's an option...

Anybody know a brilliant dressmaker/designer who can make me something like this?

Mountainous Quandary

Can you imagine a more beautiful place than this to have a wedding? When I decided to get married in Utah, I knew it had to be in the mountains. I scoured (and I do mean scoured) Salt Lake, Utah, and Summit counties for the best-possible mountain settings, and the above--the Rehearsal Hall at Sundance--is one of the best I found.

Actually, I could think of only one better place: the backyard at Chez Anderson.

True, my parents' house at the mouth of Big Cottonwood Canyon doesn't have a five-star restaurant to provide food. It doesn't have a mountain stream running through it in artfully arranged riverstones to form a pool. It does have a little garden waterfall and a really, really cute birdbath. It also doesn't have tables and chairs for 200 people, a team of crack-landscapers, or Robert Redford. And yet...there's something about a wedding in my own backyard with the mountain breeze blowing through at night. I'm torn between homey and charming vs. rugged and glamorous. What's a girl to do?

If anyone out there has had a wedding at Sundance, let me know what you thought. If you've had a successful backyard wedding, tell me about that too--(especially your caterer, if it was in Utah). And if you've had a wedding reception at both--well, lucky girl, you lived my fantasy.

Sunset Over the Water

When I first moved to Manhattan from California three years ago, I traded the view of a palm tree out my bedroom window for a view of the air shaft in my apartment building. I finally moved to my current apartment which has this (above) view out of my living room and bedroom windows. It gives the illusion that I live above "nature," when in fact I live eight floors above eight miles of concrete.

There are certain things about moving to New York that are deeply unsettling, tailored to your previous living experience. For example, my brother-in-law Grant got inexplicably sick for the first three months he lived in the city. He took medicines. He visited the "Eye and Ear Infirmary" in the West Village (which is in itself creepy--what kind of city that's not in the middle of a war has an "infirmary"??) Nothing helped, he just stayed sick until his body decided to get better. Maybe it was the effect of New York's confines on him, he coming from the wide-open mountain west. Or maybe it was his body rejecting New York.

In any case, one thing that left me discombobulated coming from the west was that on the East Coast, the sun doesn't set over the water. To me, this was like water swirling down the drain the wrong direction below the equator--it just isn't right. Living in this apartment gives the *illusion* of the sun setting over the water (Hudson River) and that is, strangely enough, deeply comforting to my little western heart.

Taking Notes

Some people go through shoes quickly, or hairstyles, or men. I go through notebooks. This is my current model--an adorable old library book that's been spiral-bound and filled with blank pages. My sister Ali found it for me at a crafts fair/farmer's market. I almost hate to use one this precious, because being a writer-nerd type, I burn through these babies at a rate of 2-4 months, and meanwhile they get dog-eared and fall prey to Junior Mint chocolate spills in the gigantic bag I carry everywhere.

What about a laptop? you say. Well, the worst part is, the laptop goes everywhere in my bag, too. But I do a lot of interviews, and I find that writing in a notebook puts people more at ease than a keyboard. And the way I can circle things, or arrange things on the page, is actually more convenient at-a-glance when I go back to my notes. Perhaps best of all, the notes in my notebook are indecipherable to everyone but me, thanks to my ultra-poor penmanship. Also, there's an element of pith-helmeted reporting that goes with a notebook that is lost with a word-precessor.

Image: me crouched over a 14-inch screen, carpal tunnel setting in, the ghoulish blue glow of LCD on my face. Or: me with a little notebook open on my crossed knees, a chewed pencil nub in my mouth just as the perfect metaphor is about to come to me.

I'll take Little Hawaiian Horse and a #2.

Wedding in 60 Days

I'm a great procrastinator. I've already waited 32 years to get married, for instance. So I guess it only makes sense that I'm getting married in a hurried fashion. Just to make things a little crazier, I'm planning a wedding in Salt Lake City, my hometown (where I haven't lived for over ten years), from New York City, my where-I-live-now town.

Can she do it? Will her head explode? Will her guests end up eating Dr. Pepper and stale lima beans from her parents' food storage? Sink or swim...watch Lane plan her wedding in 12 weeks...