merry merry!

Merry Christmas, my dearest darlings! 

May your day be merry and bright, may your hearts be full, may your every wish have come true, et cetera and soforth. 

My family went to Mass at the gorgeous Basilica, exchanged gifts, and enjoyed my mom’s amazing homemade lasagna for dinner (along with PLENTY of red and sparkling!) last night, and today we're off to (FINALLY) see "The Last Jedi” - we always see a movie on Christmas Day! This year, more than ever, I'm treasuring our traditions...they seem extra-sweet when home is so far away. 

A few things I'm extra-grateful this year: 

- California weather

- California wine

- roommates who make me laugh

- friends who have stayed in touch

- a remarkably challenging and fulfilling job

- these two 

- these two 

...and YOU! 

New York, New York!

Campers, I'm fully aware I've been a hideous delinquent when it comes to writing anything much lengthier than a tweet or text these days. Stanford goes on winter holiday at the end of this week, and I'm headed home Thursday morning for Christmas, then a ski trip to Tahoe with the Schwegfam. Suffice it to say everyone in the universe is trying to cram everything that needs to be done in before we all go our separate ways, which means all I've been doing lately is working. I legit JUST did my Christmas shopping yesterday - a move that is incredibly out-of-character for OCD, present-loving me. 

In honor of the fact that I'm off to reunite with my Schwegfam shortly, I thought I'd throw it back for a couple days to the last few times we were together, the first being our epic trip to New York in October! 

I broke the trip up with a night at home for my Papa Bear's birthday, and I've gotta say, flying over a Minnesota fall made me more than a little bit homesick. 

...as did my mama's gorgeous fall flowers. She always outdoes herself, and it was so pretty with the fall leaves! 

We kicked off Dad's birthday with a gift that we couldn't travel with...a little Crown Royal XR for the bar cart. He was, clearly, tickled. 

Jodester had another surprise up her sleeve - when we got to the airport obscenely early on Friday morning, my dad was shocked to find that she'd upgraded the two of them to first class! I think he did fine with it, in the end...not like I could tell, from my seat in economy class ;) 

We landed and rendezvoused with Jonny D on a bluebird day in NYC - temps in the low 70s, and not a cloud in the sky! 

I had never really been to New York, apart from a trip with the Band of the Fighting Irish in college which was so football-centric I barely saw anything. Needless to say, the goal of this trip, at least for me, was to SEE ALL OF THE THINGS. Starting with stunning St. Patrick's Cathedral...

...Radio City Music Hall...

...and, among others, Times Square and Rockefeller Plaza. We spent the day sprinting all over town, seeing sights and touristing out, before heading to the bar for a time-honored Schwegfam tradition...cocktail hour, duh. 

Being incredibly basic, I decided that I was on a Manhattan kick all weekend, and it was delicious. Dick and Jodes, meanwhile, took many functional photos. My parents are nothing if not photogenic. 

In advance of our evening at "Dear Evan Hansen," we grabbed another martini and dinner at Sardi's. 

Celebrating Papa Bear in style the whole way, of course. 

After "Dear Evan Hansen" rocked my world and changed my life (legit not kidding), we went out for midnight drinks and cheesecake to ring out my dad's actual birthday in style. 

Saturday was up bright and early for a morning adventure to the Met...

...followed by a lengthy stroll through Central Park...

...en route to Madison Avenue, where Dad and Jonny ogled Ralph Lauren's vintage sports car...

...while Mom and I filled up on something a little sweeter at Ladurée!

All that window-shopping left us thoroughly parched, so it was off to the Plaza for us - cocktail hour can never come too soon if you're a Schweg. 

From the Plaza, it's only a hop skip and jump to Carnegie Hall, which was a spot I absolutely had to see. One of my only regrets from college is that because I was abroad in London in the spring of 2010, I missed out on performing with the concert band at Carnegie. From all accounts, it was incredible, and I'll always be a tiny bit sad that I didn't get to participate! 

Equally sad to me: my GIRL Renée Fleming was performing there the Monday after we left! Break my heart! 

Prior to seeing "A Bronx Tale," we headed to Lincoln Center for dinner at Bar Boulud. Daniel Boulud, the proprietor, is Gavin Kaysen of Spoon and Stable's mentor...and Bar Boulud definitely shared the excellent service, food, and experience that makes us love Spoon and Stable so much!

It being me, I couldn't be that close to Lincoln Center without poking my head in the Met. Jodes walked over with me, and didn't mock me at all for my gawking. Can't wait for my first opera there in February...Michael and I are going for our birthdays and will be seeing Wagner's "Parsifal!"

On Sunday, we got up really early, grabbed bagels, and made our way to the Empire State Building to live out all our "Sleepless in Seattle" dreams. We had another perfect day in the city - clear skies and sunny, warm temperatures - so it was an amazing day to sightsee from the top!

More than a little windblown, we hopped in a cab to head down to the Financial District. Seeing the Freedom Tower and 9/11 Memorial was on my list, and it was as moving and powerful to see in person as I had hoped. 

My dad's total favorite stop of the day? Trinity Church, to see Alexander Hamilton's grave (plus, of course, Angelica and ELIIIIIZA!). I had a total history nerd blast checking it all out...it was incredible to see how far back the cemetery dated (and to recognize so many names!). 

We also made a de rigeur stop at the Bull...

...where I found a fellow fearless girl to hang out with for a hot minute. 

All tuckered out, we worked our way way back uptown for lethal Manhattans at the King Cole Bar, and one last nibble at the Plaza, before heading to the airport and homeward. All in all, an excellent weekend celebrating the greatest man in the world in the greatest city in the world!  

101 in 1001 #57: Make homemade pasta!

Shortly after I moved out here, Dave and I binge-watched "Master of None," which I had never seen and which he proclaimed one of the best modern shows he'd seen. I adored it unequivocally - not in the least for the second season's first few episodes, set in stunning Italy as lead character Dev (a lovably hapless-in-love Aziz Ansari) learns to make homemade pasta. 

The show, coupled with the fact that Dave is the child of an Italian family and had made pasta from practically infancy, made me urgently want to check this item off my list. When I came back from Thanksgiving to find a superabundance of potatoes in our kitchen, Dave's suggestion that they become gnocchi couldn't have seemed more timely. 

We had noble goals of spending Dave's Friday night on call cooking, which went rapidly off the rails when he had to go in to the hospital. I prepared to press pause on the whole enterprise, and cozied up with a glass of champagne and some sportsball on television to wait him out. Around 9:30, however, he texted me that he was unlikely to make it home at a decent hour...and that I was on my own to make gnocchi. 

I panicked, a little bit, as one does when confronted with the news that she has to tackle pasta solo for the first time ever. And then I went to town. 

I had a blast churning the potatoes through my new food mill, purchased at Williams-Sonoma based on Dave's instructions. Aside: I'm dangerously obsessed with Williams-Sonoma lately, especially as I've been cooking so much more (and enjoying it so much more). Every time I go in there I want to spend obscene gobs of money on all the gorgeous cookware and gadgety things. GROWN-UP PROBLEMS. 

The situation went downhill with alarming speed when, having followed Dave's instructions to a T, I was left with excessively sticky dough. In hindsight, the common-sense thing to do would have been to add flour...but I was convinced that Dave knew what he was doing and that I was being an idiot by thinking this was wrong. So I blithely continued to "make gnocchi..."

And you would think that I would have at some point realized how awful things were going to turn out when the dough was near-impossible to manipulate. The key is to roll it out into long snakes and cut the dough into little tiny pillows...Dave's words, not mine. My snakes wouldn't roll, they just kind of gummed up our counter, and when I cut them they sort of...puddled. I don't have a better verb for what they did, but trust me - it wasn't pretty. 

I tried to cook them anyway - following Dave's instructions to wait until they floated and then pull them out - and this was the end result: 

I don't even know what you would call these. Sad mashed-potato nuggets? I was simultaneously so frustrated and amused that I couldn't stop laughing - I don't think I've ever been so appalled by something I "created" in the kitchen before, and that's really saying something. 

I scrapped the dough/mush/goo, set our (amazing) homemade vodka sauce aside, cleaned up the war zone that was the kitchen, and boiled Dave some fettuccine noodles for dinner when he finally made it home around 11pm. Though he was on call again the following night, we tried again...this time, SO much more successfully! 

Largely because Dave took charge of the dough and taught me what it's actually supposed to look and feel like: 

How much better do those look? The recipe is legit just a whole bag of potatoes, put through a ricer or food mill...plus three egg yolks, a pinch of salt and pepper, and flour to the point where it forms ^that^ kind of dough. It couldn't be easier - but so much of it is dependent on texture and feel that I was just screwed from the start. 

Dave also appreciated the importance of letting me taste-test all the way along the way - and had made another giant double batch of vodka sauce while I rolled and cut fifty million gnocchi. He cooked a few of them up for me and threw them in sauce/topped them with basil while I cut...and I almost immediately started dreaming of moving to Italy and just making/eating pasta full-time, "Master of None" style. 

UM HI. How delicious do those look?! 

So there you have it - homemade gnocchi by Chef Dave with yours truly alongside for sous chef comic relief. We have an overabundance of them hanging out in our freezer now - can't wait to spend the next couple months experimenting with sauces, or to keep learning the homemade pasta world! 

For more 101 in 1001, head here...it's probably about time to start thinking about tackling macarons, hmm?! 

On sonnets and song lyrics.

...I fell into a swampy, never-ending black hole of my own Twitter history last night and stayed up far too late reading it back over (which I am now paying for with this morning's dry, itchy eyes and headache). This jumped out at me and I couldn't not share it - just a little prettiness for your Thursday morning. 

Not In A Silver Casket Cool With Pearls

Not in a silver casket cool with pearls
Or rich with red corundum or with blue,
Locked, and the key withheld, as other girls
Have given their loves, I give my love to you;
Not in a lovers'-knot, not in a ring
Worked in such fashion, and the legend plain—
Semper fidelis, where a secret spring
Kennels a drop of mischief for the brain:
Love in the open hand, no thing but that,
Ungemmed, unhidden, wishing not to hurt,
As one should bring you cowslips in a hat
Swung from the hand, or apples in her skirt,
I bring you, calling out as children do:
"Look what I have!—And these are all for you." 

- Edna St. Vincent Millay

Also, I listened to the entirety of Fleetwood Mac's live concert album "The Dance" while getting ready and driving to work this morning. This was a revisit to an album I've grown up with - some of my most vivid, visceral childhood memories are of watching that concert VHS with my dad, jamming to the cd on the way to Toys'R'Us, or marveling at the brassy, percussive marching band at the end.

(Aside: the band at the concert is the USC marching band - and, looking back, they were a huge driver of the reason I actually let my mom badger me into joining marching band in high school. Gotta love the delicious irony of ending up in the Band of the Fighting Irish, loathing the USC band as hard as I possibly can...but still, secretly, loving their two songs on "The Dance.")

Anyway, I was listening to "You Make Loving Fun," and this line jumped out at me...

"I never did believe in miracles
But I've a feeling it's time to try"

So here's to trying to believe in miracles, and to how utterly gorgeous language can be - from sonnets to song lyrics. Happy Thursday, campers! 

a California bedroom

A few weeks ago, I posted this photo on Instagram: 

And it was crazy - I got more direct messages, Facebook chats and texts from friends than I had in a LONG time on a blog post, gushing over and asking about my bedroom here in Cali. I realized that I had never showed my pretty little room here, and so here you have it - a California bedroom by yours truly!

I started this post from the comfort of my childhood bed, and let me tell you, there are few things I love more than that bed. My sister and I got to redecorate our bedrooms when we turned 14, and I've always adored my sunny yellow walls and bright espadrille-striped bedding. 

That said, I feel like as an adult I've redecorated my bedroom every couple years or so, for various reasons. My first grown-up room at the age of 22 was replaced by king-size, "couple-appropriate" Pottery Barn for cohabiting, then replaced again with girly, bohemian Anthropologie in the Chateau de Liz (RIP). As soon as I decided to relocate to California, I decided it was time for another change - and, being v. basic in all things, launched myself straight into the oh-so-Instagrammable all-white bedding world. 

For context, here's how I spent the time after my mom left and before my things arrived in California, and the near-finished product, a few days later: 

A few of my friends have all-white bedding - notably Kelsie, whose room I have ALWAYS envied - and I had found myself browsing Anthropologie's gorgeous offerings on more than one occasion. Given my penchant for lots of colorful decor, there was something so serene about the thought of an all-white bed...almost like waking up in a cloud every day. I pulled the trigger on Anthro's Bertilia duvet and standard shams, their gorgeous Georgina euro shams, and a Moroccan wedding dream of a lumbar pillow. Because the bedding mixed white and cream, I, too, mixed the two tones - it adds a really pretty depth to the bed and is a bit less stark than it could be otherwise in a white bedroom. 

Let's be real though - it wouldn't be me without a bit of color, and I was talked into the two throw pillows by my mom and the bedding consultant at the Palo Alto Anthropologie. (Because, naturally, the Palo Alto Anthropologie has a dedicated BEDDING consultant, right?!) I was doubtful at first, and leaned toward the idea of a totally monochromatic bed, but the second I saw the way the watercolor flowers matched my mural, I was sold. 

As for that mural...it is, without a doubt, my favorite thing I have ever had in a bedroom, bar none. It is actually wallpaper from, you guessed it, Anthropologie...but the story of how I fell in love with it makes me happy and SO I am going to tell you all. 

Anyone who has read this blog for a period longer than this move knows that my favorite restaurant in the Twin Cities is Spoon and Stable, the brainchild of culinary wunderkind Gavin Kaysen. His second restaurant, Bellecour, opened in March - right around when I actually committed to moving - and features this stunner in their "Garden Room:" 

Look familiar? I thought it was just the most gorgeous thing I had seen in a long time, and had actual heart flutters when I saw it pop up in Anthropologie's new products less than a week after Bellecour opened. I HAD to have it. Only problem? Renters of apartments tend not to be allowed to wallpaper, and, even had we been, our walls here are slightly textured. 

Naturally, my MacGyver of a father had a solution - 1/8" thick 3x9 plywood, reinforced from behind, whitewashed and turned, effectively, into mobile art installation panels. We spent one of my last afternoons in Minnesota together doing projects, and it was the coziest, most lovely way to spend a Saturday...it put me in mind of school days building boats for the 3rd grade regatta, or putting together science fair experiments. So much gratitude to him for being the kind of papa bear who will drop everything and try anything to make his child's dreams come true, even when said child is fast approaching 30 and, really, didn't need a 9x9 wallpaper installation. 

To this day, I get comments from everyone who sees the panels in their place of glory - our leasing agent lives across the hall, and had seen them through my window and asked about them, even! - and I'm utterly smitten with them. They make such a statement in a very standard, white, square box of a room, and are the perfect foil to my chill, neutral, girly bed. 

The view from said bed is, of course, of a gallery wall, because it is me and my magpie tendencies with art will never fade or die. I'm enchanted with my new pieces, framed (as always) by the experts at Posters on Board.

The central piece is a purchase from Shakespeare and Company in Paris, featuring Alice in Wonderland quotes. My actual fave, though, is the Golden Gate Bridge sketch I legit stole out of Emily's portfolio (with her permission!) over Easter. Seeing all my carefully selected art, from warm-fuzzy quotes to gifts from loved ones to travel souvenirs and thoughtful, intentional purchases, is such a great anchor point for me. I'll always love it. 

Other dresser-top features: a new jewelry box and necklace tree to make up for my absurd lack of good storage here, my budding collection of Waterford pieces, culled with love from my Grandma Lo's treasured keepsakes, and a new capiz lamp and, of course, Mark Succerberg holding court. It's really just very pretty and feminine and me, which is always my goal and always makes me smile. 

My curtains are Anthropologie (duh) and hide very necessary blackout curtains...and let me tell you, hanging them was an ORDEAL with all capital letters necessary. See evidence: 

Yeah, I did that. I actually broke down and called my parents in tears (very mature over here, yes) and bawled for a solid five minutes about what a mistake it had been moving here and how much I hated everything. My reactions are generally scaled appropriately to the situation, clearly. Anyway, the curtains are gorgeous and the glass tie-backs are so elegant, and I can't wait to get the matching finials. I'm also pleased that my cork pinboard yardstick thing reassembled as well as it did after the hot glue completely melted off on the cross-country road trip out here...I love displaying the notes and cards from my sweetest, most beloved friends there. 

On a not-so-glamorous note, look at that bitty closet! It's my first-ever not-walk-in closet and, friends, I was NERVOUS. After getting rid of pretty much half my wardrobe (details to come, soon!), everything fits, and it's been a great exercise in consumption reduction and keeping what I love. My favorite feature over here, though? The framed vintage puzzle pieces from Chicago's FourSided, featuring my beloved home state and new home. 

And there you have it! A thousand words on an 11x10 bedroom because I am NOTHING if not excessive, given the opportunity for verbosity. Come visit me sometime and admire it in person, hmm?!