almost crunchy

My secret double-life needs a logo

2010-06-29T13:00:00.000-07:00

A secret: I'm launching a wedding planning business. Yes, I'm still an editor at the magazine I work for, but the land of prettiness and creativity and organizational bliss got the better of me. After my wedding, I couldn't let it all go. I wanted to fill my free time with it, but with a purpose (not just mindlessly sifting through wedding blogs as eye candy). So, now I'm helping other brides (and grooms) find their own mason jars full of chamomile and and pie bars littered with vintage cake stands.

But first: a logo. My company's name is Barnwood + Birch. I chose that name for several reasons: a) I like the alliteration, the way it sounds and looks; b) it evokes a kind of homey warmth, an intimacy that I hope to find at weddings; c) I love both of these woods: they're beautiful and create gorgeous details; and d) they're unique and make me think of one-of-a-kind, hand-crafted objects, nothing mass produced.

Keeping all of that in mind, which logo best suits my company or, simply, which is your fave and which color?

1)

2)

3)
4)
5)

This logo will be featured on my business cards, website (still to come) and contracts as well as any other stationary I end up needing. These designs were created by my dear friend Paper Jules.

So, which is your favorite and why?

Just Over a Year Later

2010-04-17T21:10:00.000-07:00

Hi again. It's been too long. I'm embarrassed to admit I had to let this blog go when I got caught up in the whirlwind of wedding planning--and blogging about it. Almost Crunchy was never supposed to become wedding-centric which is why I skipped on over to Weddingbee.com (my thread), where I wrote three to five times per week for the entire past year. My favorite picture from our wedding?

Many more by the talented Tec Petaja here.

So, what have I come back to say? I'm not sure. But I do know that I want to find my voice here again. To write about things other than colors and dresses and whimsical decor items. I'm determined to find the deeper meaning in every day's interaction or adventure, even if it means mulling over simple matters until I find an underlying truth. I don't predict I'll find it always--I want it to be organic, not forced--but it's worth a try.

Before I get started, let's play catch-up: Ian and I got married in October of last year in a restore barn on a 5,000-acre ranch along the Continental Divide in Colorado with 60 or our nearest and dearest. From there, we set off for our honeymoon in New Zealand (not enough beach, nor cocktails). Now that we're back, we've moved into a place we're making our own. We're also training for a marathon this October (and I'm blogging about it here) and Ian's getting ready for a big show in Santa Fe with his paintings.

So, until I figure out something to say that has a purpose, let me point you to an insightful, sarcastic, and entertaining blogger, Caroline at The Half Truth of a Whole Life.

Tools for Choosing Your Colors

2009-03-10T16:06:00.000-07:00

We went through quite a few color schemes before we came up with one that would work well with the barn that we are having our reception in. The first thing I was attracted to was a mixture of peach, coral, gold, pink, and dusty rose. The picture below, of a redhead, inspired me.

But as soon as I mentioned it to future-hubby, he immediately shied away from such feminine details. So, I started thinking about us (and what Mr. CB wouldn't say no to) and I started visualizing colors based on natural elements: slate from river rock, emerald like lake water, white like flowers, tan like sand, leafy green like trees.

But, when it came time to actually start picking colors, I was swayed in a completely different direction thanks to this cake picture:

It feels so sunny and warm--two things I associate with California, where I'm from. Also, fall in the mountains of Colorado is filled with brushed whites in Aspen's branches and golden yellows in their leaves. I decided yellow, cream, white, brown, and gold would suffice. Especially in a wooden barn surrounded by white tablecloths.

I found a couple of helpful tools online that break down your color scheme so you can carry it from vendor to vendor, detail to detail. First is DaGraeve.com's Color Palette Generator. You enter the URL of an image you are attracted to and it spits out the colors that are in that image. I put in this picture:

And it gave me this:

Not exactly what we're going with--we'll be using more whites, creams, and less khaki tones--but close.

The next tool I tried was Idee's Multicolor Search Lab Flickr Set. You put in your colors and it returns all of the images it finds on Flickr that include those colors. Here's what I put in:

And here's what it returned:

The last tool I tried was Color Hunter. I decided to use one of my original palettes with this by uploading this jpeg.

This was the custom palette it gave to me (too many reds):

We still haven't found an image that completely depicts our colors. But for now, these will do.

What tools/images did you use to find your color palette?

Image 1 from Style Me Pretty
Image 2 from Snippet & Ink
Image 3 from Jose Villa
Image 4 from Martha Stewart Weddings
Image 5 from DeGraeve.com
Image 6 from Idee Multicolr Search Lab
Image 7 from Flickr
Image 8 from Martha Stewart Weddings
Image 9 from Color Hunter

Mission Vintage Stamps

2009-03-05T09:56:00.000-08:00

When I went on the US Post Office's website to look at postage options for our save-the-date postcards, I was let down. All they had in terms of 27-cent postage was a sheet of tropical fruit stamps. Now, we're getting married at a ranch in Colorado with a subdued color scheme. Tangerine orange, banana yellow, hibiscus pink, and honeydew green with cartoon-y pictures of star fruit and papaya on them doesn't exactly match the mood we're going for.

Originally, I wanted vintage stamps. But when I started doing research, they seemed to be quite a bit above and beyond the price of postage. I couldn't justify spending $4.00 on 4 22-cent stamps when they should cost 88 cents.

First I checked Champion Stamp, a vintage stamp dealer who comes recommended by Martha Stewart all of the time. As you can guess, they had every stamp imaginable and even had them sorted into a neat little PDF catalog, but they were out of our price range.

My station er, Sarah Parrott, recommended I head to the Sea Jay Stamp and Coin eBay store. Again, his prices were out of budget, but Sarah also had a piece of advice for me: "Jot down the Scott number and then type it into the search. You'll find other sellers with the same stamps at different prices." It worked. I sifted through Sea Jay's collection, noting the stamps I found most relevant to our invitations: American Horse Breeds, Daniel Boone, Colorado State, National Parks, Sheep, Wooden Ducks, American Folk Art, the list goes on and on. Basically, I was looking for anything outdoorsy, mountainous, farm-like, or Western. Then I typed in their Scott numbers and came up with sellers offering them for face value to well-overpriced.

I placed four orders: One sheet of 40 22-cent American Horse Breed stamps, one sheet of 40 6-cent Wolf Trap Farm National Parks Centennial stamps, 15 5-cent red Air Mail stamps, and random assortment of 46 22-cent stamps.

This was more than we needed, but I found a great deal on the American Horse Breed stamps: face value while other sellers had them for as much as $22. And we needed about ten more 22-cent stamps on top of the random assortment anyway.

This morning, after my fiance penned the addresses, we started affixing them. Piece of advice #1: Stick the stamps on before you address them. Some of the stamps were too big and started to cover up the addresses. Piece of advice #2: Find out how big the stamps are before you order them. The horse stamps we got (which were our fave) are way too big. They cover up the word "Postcard" a little bit. So, we're going to use up the random assortment of 22-cent stamps and only use a few horse stamps which is the opposite of what we had planned. And the random assortment is definitely, well, random: US Constitution stamps, Christmas stamps, Social Security Act stamps. You get the idea.

In the end, some of them look phenomenal, while others look, well, interesting. We'll save most of our horses for our invitations.

Was anything you ordered different from what you expected when it arrived?

Image 1 courtesy of the United States Postal Service
Image 2 courtesy of Martha Stewart
Image 3 courtesy of Sarah Parrott
Image 4 courtesy of eBay

Swoon. Photography.

2009-03-03T16:21:00.000-08:00

An photo-essay introduction (if you will) to our photographer, Nashville-based Tec Petaja.

I'll let the images speak for themselves.

All images courtesy of Tec Petaja

My Birdcage

2009-03-02T16:38:00.000-08:00

It isn't an addiction. But every time I see a yard sale/garage sale/estate sale sign, I have to go. It's not like I'm there at 6:30 AM, bright and ready to scour through someone's old stuff. And I do agree with my fiance in his "garbage sale" terminology, but if I happen to be on my way somewhere and that bright orange/yellow/purple sign perks up at me from a street corner, I'm following its arrow. Here's why: I'm collecting vintage glass, ball jars, lanterns, and, apparently, a birdcage, for our wedding.

This weekend I stumbled upon a sale run by a couple who is moving to Mexico. Among their goodies were handmade glass bottles, a cake stand, and a birdcage that I just didn't want to leave without (see right).

Originally, I wanted to use it as a piece of decor--wire a couple of birds to the inside and some daisies to the outside and stick it on the escort card table. But after doing some research I'm getting all kinds of ideas for it.

The gift card holder:

As a candle holder (Except ours is wood. Not sure how well that would go down.):

Or as decor in our colors (see bottom right)?

Or in lieu of a guest book?

Which is your favorite?

Image 1 from Unknown (please tell me if this is yours and I'll credit you)
Image 2 from yours truly
Images 3, 4, and 5 from Snippet & Ink
Image 6 from Theresa Glenn Photography

The Evolution of Our Save-The-Dates

2009-03-01T17:57:00.000-08:00

When I first saw Sarah Parrott's portfolio, I loved the vintage feel of her stationary. Tandem bicycles, lots of flowers, trees, and birds whizzed about her many custom creations. See some of her work below:

In designing our save-the-dates with Sarah, we went through several rounds of proofs. First, I sent her my inspiration, which were the images I blogged about here.

We chose to do a save-the-date postcard to keep postage costs down, as well as save money on printing and ordering.

These were the initial proofs she sent back. I originally told her I wanted hydrangea, but also wanted the horse that Ian drew and the script-y fonts. In the end, the horse and flowers didn't pair well.

On the second go-round, we wanted her to play with embellishments to give it a Western feel. This was also where we figured out our color scheme: white, creme, yellow and brown. She incorporated it here.

Third time's a charm. Sarah sent us our winning choice. We worked from PDFs up until we actually received our order, which made it difficult to actually imagine the postcard.

That said, here she is on Crane's Lettra paper. The two colors on the invitations are brown and shimmery gold ink.

Here they are!

We ordered vintage stamps from eBay, which I'll elaborate on next. There are so many ways to find vintage stamps--and you can even get them at face value (plus a couple of dollars for shipping).

How many rounds did it take you to get your save-the-dates right? Were they what you expected when you received them?

The Stationary That Almost Was

2009-02-28T09:30:00.000-08:00

It seemed easier and like a more affordable choice when we started. It really did. I loved the idea of sitting around with all of my girlfriends, drinking wine, and glueing envelope liners, tying ribbons, affixing vintage stamps, and, finally, seeing a box of tidy, beautiful DIY invitations ready to be carried off to the post office.

The ranch-y feel I love:

But after all of the exchanged e-mails and lunch meetings I had with my (very pregnant) friend who happens to be a graphic designer, I realized that A) No matter how many times she said she could work on them after the baby was born, I just didn't want to be responsible for putting that pressure on her during that amazing time in her life, B) My friend and I were having trouble nailing down a design and focusing on the project on lunch dates because we are two chatty Cathys and, C) Making my own invitations wasn't proving to be cost effective.

My font inspiration:

During our design process, my friend suggested I look into Papeterie's DIY invitations--you choose the shape, colors, graphics, and style from a myriad of options for an affordable rate (invitations from $187.50). They print them and you put them together. It seemed like a good option, but I really wanted something custom.

Papeterie's DIY Invitations:

My fiance drew a gorgeous picture of a horse that I wanted to incorporate into our design somehow. The horse matched our ranch-y wedding, especially since we'd bonded with a colt named Doc who lives at Devil's Thumb Ranch during our last visit. Papeterie mentioned they could use our drawing, but I was hungry to find out what else was out there.

My fiance's horse:

I started calling in paper options. I wanted something textured and pulpy. Sustainable would be nice (either recycled or made from cotton pulp) and handmade would be even better. I ordered in a piece of Stardream Metallic paper from JAM Paper. It was too shiny and too thin for save-the-date postcards and cost me $3.25 just for a sample. Papel Vivo's handmade paper seemed perfect but we were worried it would be too thick to go through the printer. Crane's Lettra collection hit the mark pretty well and they were generous enough to send me every color in every weight paper for free. That's 17 pieces of paper!

The handmade feel I'm going for:

That's when I stumbled upon Sarah Parrott on Etsy.com. I found her by typing "gocco" into the search engine on the site. Gocco is a Japanese-printing method that I don't fully understand, but basically stamps ink onto a page giving it a very handmade look and is completely customizable. Kind of like screenprinting. Her prices beat my DIY invitation's pricing, she was extremely communicative, and thus, she was hired. Stay tuned to see what she dreamed up for our save-the-dates.

Did you have any projects that went from DIY into a professional's hands?

Images 1, 2, and 5 courtesy of Martha Stewart
Image 3 courtesy of Papeterie
Image 4 courtesy of Ian Troxell

To Pooch or Not To Pooch. That Is The Question.

2009-02-26T16:20:00.000-08:00

For months now, we've been going back and forth about whether to include our beloved dogs in the ceremony. From the moment we were engaged, we were gung-ho on the idea of them being our ring bearers. I mean, we got them when we moved to New Mexico together two years ago as teacup-sized, two-month-old puppies. Okay, they were never teacup-sized, but 17-pounds is pretty small compared to their current state.

Meet Odin, our year-and-a-half Pit Bull-Lab mix. Or Odiferus, Wilbur, Yoda (check out his ears) or Pequeño Toro. Yep, those are all of his nicknames. All of which happen to be longer than his real name. We got him from the pound as a sick little puppy and he's grown into a handsome young chap. It would be a mistake not to include him in the wedding. I mean, he already has his tuxedo on! But, because he's a pound pup, he has his quirks which include quite a bit of anxiety in crowds of strangers, horrible leash-pulling habits, and an obsession with licking any visible skin. Hmmm...

Just a few months older than Odin is Rio. Two in April, Rio is a Saluki-Rhodesian Ridgeback mix. She hasn't taken on as many nicknames as Odin (Riolicious usually does the trick) but she does have a few idiosyncrasies that he doesn't. First, talking. She is probably the most vocal dog I've ever met. And it starts up if she gets bored--which is often because she's a high energy hound mix. (Think whippet, greyhound, anything that could run for twelve hours straight and still want more). Second, she is light as a feather, but she often gets the inkling to jump on people when she's excited. I see our wedding as one of those times. If we were getting married inside this might be okay (Notice I say might. Unless we get her declawed--which we would never--I don't see nails and taffeta being a good combination), but we're getting married in a field of grass and mud and all things disastrous.

Thus, we're stuck with the question: To pooch or not to pooch. We really want them to be a part of our day. They're practically our kids. (Wow, I sound like Angela from The Office. I promise we don't lick them clean). But is it worth all the worry?

No need to answer. Just look at this picture (below). Then tell me how you can turn that down?

Are you including any unexpected guests in your ceremony?

Image 1 by Geckoam
Image 4 by Jadam

Top Ten Wedding Blogs

2009-02-25T16:06:00.000-08:00

When I first got engaged, I had no idea that there were so many design decisions that went into a wedding. I hadn't been to a wedding for over six years, nor did I notice what sort of details and decor went into that wedding to make it unique or special. But then...I started surfing. Yep, that's right. Surfin' the 'net. More like the black hole; Once you start with one wedding blog, you get sucked in. Soon you're clicking on links to different design blogs which lead to more links which leads to complete design disaster.

There is so much inspiration out there, it's overwhelming. Do I want to go modern (wheatgrass in wooden boxes with Gerber Daisies "growing out of them), romantic (lush hydrangea-and-rose bouquets teeming over vintage coffee cans), or will it be more whimsical (birch branches with birds hanging from them)? The options are endless and it can stop you in your tracks.

So, here's my guide to the ten blogs that make me swoon in my desk chair (in no particular order).

1) Snippet & Ink: Besides inspiration boards that are extremely helpful with choosing a color scheme for your event, Kathryn posts tons of Real Weddings that are often country-inspired. My favorite thing to do here is type a color into the search engine and see what boards pop up.

2) A $10,000 Wedding: More anti-design than design, this blog is a reminder about what's truly important about the wedding: friends, family, food, and dancing. This couple pulled off a secluded, wedding-in-the-mountains for 10 Gs (a hard feat, if you can imagine). The blogger details her process and posts about good deals going on in the wedding world.

3) Elizabeth Anne Designs: My real love for this blog is in their "Link Love" section. They have the most comprehensive list of wedding blogs (something you can surely lose yourself in for days). Just know you've been warned.

4) Etsy Wedding: A selection of wedding-appropriate findings from Etsy.com--a treasure trove for handcrafted goods such as jewelry, soaps, invitations, dresses, anything really. As their tagline says: "Offbeat Finds for the Eclectic Bride."

5) Once Wed: Whether you're looking for Anthropologie-style design inspiration or a pre-owned wedding dress, this is your hub. I actually found the dress I thought I wanted on this website for a lot less than the store was asking and in my size. You can find the gamut of designers here: Vera Wang, David's Bridal, Lela Rose, and Nicole Miller.

6) Oh So Beautiful Paper: Out-of-the-box invitation inspiration. 'Nuff said.

7) The Ritzy Bee Blog: Details, details, details. Flowers vessels, place cards, lighting, invitations, bowls, cupcakes, and buttons, and all of the little things that us brides-to-be just can't get enough of (but, most likely, no one else will notice). Sigh.

8) Style Me Pretty: Real weddings galore. All with creativity and soul. This is the blog that will make you want to design away--just so you're worthy enough of possibly being on it one day.

9) WeddingBee: Yep, all of these blogs are about design in some form or fashion. But WeddingBee is the most real. Multiple women blog their way to the aisle (from unfair family drama to dinner plates to dress stress and beyond). Want to get advice from real brides-to-be? Head here.

10) Junebug Weddings: Not wedding-centric, although often on the topic, Junebug gives you ideas from outside the matrimonial realm which can be quite helpful in straying away from the norm. Flowers, food, fashion, and creativity in a nut shell.

Which blogs have you turned to for design-inspiration?

Images from Snippet and Ink

Inspiration Board, How I Heart Thee

2009-02-20T08:49:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite things I've come across since scouring wedding blogs are inspiration boards--a collection of images that inspire the feeling, colors, design, and other elements that one wants to include in her (or his) weddings. My introduction to these creative collages was via Snippet & Ink, a wedding blog that builds inspiration boards daily, usually around one image that inspires the blogger. She often builds them based on colors, so finding inspiration around your color scheme (or even getting help coming up with a color scheme) is all over this site.

Wedding Bee, a blog on which brides-to-be detail their planning process, has given me many useful tools (which I'll elaborate on later), but one in particular is Polyvore--a website that allows you to make your own inspiration boards as well as look at other brides' inspiration boards. You can clip images from anywhere on the internet and add them to your personal Polyvore stash to be used in a future board or save other people's boards that you admire. It's really simple to use and they even have a tutorial on how to do it.

Check out my farm-wedding board above. It makes me giddy.

What tools have you used to help you come up with the design, decor, or color scheme for your wedding?

A Kind Gesture

2009-02-19T14:40:00.000-08:00

My fiance and his family haven't always been on the best of terms (no one's fault, in particular). Tumultuous teenage years can often send children and their parents in unwieldy directions. I know mine did. But, I also happen to come from a family that is overly-communicative (read: two psychologist parents), therefore most of our problems (read: my teenage angst) were solved by the time I left for college. My fiance's, however, weren't. His family (and him) chose to sweep their issues under the rug and act chummily when face-to-face, but never deal with their misunderstandings and years of less-than-nice feelings.

That is, until recently. When we lived in New York City, we went up to his parent's house to get away from the grime and grit that is Manhattan. They live in the rolling countryside of the Finger Lakes region in a restored barn. It's amazing, quite frankly. The more and more we visited, the more I could feel the walls break down and warmer feelings come through. It wasn't so much that either party had shifted their views or that deep, problem-fixing conversations were taking place, but that, with a fourth party in the relationship (me), the dynamic was changing. They were no longer only visiting with their son, they were visiting with both of us. And we, as a couple, have developed our own persona. A persona that neither we nor his parents knew before, but a persona that they had to get know, nonetheless. Adding that dynamic-changing role took a little vulnerability on all of our parts, but it's opened up the door a little for emotion, risks, becoming closer and laying things out on the table.

The peace-making moment was this: my future-stepmother-in-law gave her son (my fiance) her mother's engagement ring to give to me. Now, a lot of families pass jewelry down the line, creating heirlooms. For my future-stepmother-in-law, this was more difficult. Her mom passed away when she was six. This platinum-and-diamond ring has much more value to her than probably most of the jewelry in her jewelry box. And not completely because of the metal.

The ring arrived one day via FedEx (he didn't have it when he proposed) and I waited until we were together one evening to open it up. I had preconceived notions of what an antique ring would look like. I pictured ornate curly-ques and thin, fragile details. The ring that arrived was art deco and boxy. It's from depression-era Brooklyn which is, ironically, where we used to live in New York. I slipped it on (okay, after three re-sizings) and, no matter that it's not what I imagined, I cherish it daily. It has major symbolism, and aesthetically, I've grown to love its classic simplicity.

Along with the ring came a card that read something like a peace-offering from his stepmom. To give us something so near and dear to her was a symbol of how much she cares about their relationship (which is now all of our relationship). It makes me proud to wear an heirloom that would have many stories to tell if it could talk--stories of hard times, good times, and lonely times. It's a daily reminder that life is not easy, but with a few words and a little generosity, it can be be a whole lot smoother.

Does anything in your wedding have back story?

Photos by Tim Carr

J Crew's Honeymoon (and Wardrobe) Giveaway

2009-02-18T09:07:00.000-08:00

Just in case you don't get fifteen e-mails a day from J. Crew with drool-worthy discounts and new items, they've just posted a Honeymoon Giveaway contest. How does five nights at a luxury hotel in Santorini, Greece, sound? Pretty good to me. On top of that, they're giving away a $2,000 wardrobe so you can look à la mode while abroad.

Not engaged? You can enter the contest for your friends who are and help out their chances of winning (wink, wink).

Just head here, enter your info (you decide if you want to sign on to their e-mail blasts) and play the matching-the-images game they've set up. You can play it once, daily, through March 15th. 2009.

Just promise me you'll share the wealth when you win. Just kidding--good luck!

The Search Begins...

2009-02-15T14:25:00.000-08:00

Two months and three states. That is what it took to finally find the barn for our reception. Because Ian and I come from opposite sides of the country, we had to come up with a solution for who would travel. Would my family go from Los Angeles to New York? Would his go from New York to California? Would they meet somewhere in the middle? Neither of us has a family that is particularly larger than the other. But, for monetary reasons, my family could travel from California to the East Coast more feasibly. Thus, my Google search from New Mexico was kicked off to find the perfect barn on the East Coast.

I combed through New York's resources and abused the terms "New York," "Barn," and "Wedding" in search engines. But nothing I came across felt right. We were a month out from our engagement party, which was to be held in New York, so we knew we'd be able to visit venues, but only a few since we had limited time.

The first place I got stuck on was Riverside Farms in Vermont, about a five hour drive from Ian's hometown. This is a venue that flies somewhat under the radar, unlike Round Barn Farm, which is beautiful but a bit of a wedding factory. Three-hundred acre Riverside Farms not only has one wedding barn, they have four and a meadow protected by a small mountain. It's secluded and full of antiques and completely not manufactured. I loved it. The price, well, I didn't love that as much. That said, the owners told me about a property they owned down the road called The Amee Farm (pictured above) which wasn't on as much land but included a 16-bedroom farmhouse and a newly restored barn with organic garden. I loved the idea of all of our wedding party and family staying in the house while cute bed-and-breakfasts nearby would suffice for the other guests. But there were two things I couldn't quite latch on to: 1) There wasn't anywhere to have a private, secluded ceremony. The farmhouse sits just above the busiest road in town (Okay, not that busy. It's Vermont, but still.) and the ceremony would have to be on the hill overlooking the road and town. Or, the road and town would be looking up at you. 2) The three-story barn was still under construction. The reception venue was planned for the second floor which had a flat ceiling because of the third floor above it, thus ruining any novelty of celebrating in a barn structure. I want high ceilings, people. And, visiting the farm was my first time in Vermont and I was starting to feel like I wanted some connection to my locale of choice.

A few days later, in New York, we decided to check out a few venues that didn't have barns at all. The first was Ian's family friend's new lake home--also under construction--about twenty minutes from Ian's hometown. There was a beautiful field on the lake with a couple of trees I could totally see saying "I Do" under, but the lawn in front of the house didn't seem big enough. Plus the idea of bringing in every table, chair, fork, knife, speaker, and light was enough to make me say no. As generous as the offer to use the house was.

The second venue was actually recommended by a bridesmaid who had driven up for the engagement party from New York City. She stayed in a sweet little bed-and-breakfast called Berry Hill Gardens bed-and-breakfast. The five-bedroom house was a little outdated, but the gardens in front were stunning with a trellis to use as an aisle and flowers everywhere. Talk about not needing to decorate. But, alas, this didn't feel right either.

The third place we went in New York has a bit of family history--Ian's great-grandmother had been a caretaker on this amazing property: Hyde Hall near Cooperstown, NY. Hyde Hall is a historic mansion on a grassy hill overlooking Otsego Lake in the Finger Lakes region. After rushing around the grounds, on our way to the airport, I was ready to say yes. The views were fabulous for the ceremony, the mossy, marble building had the perfect amount of history creeping up its walls, and I loved the family-tie. Plus, this was the first place we'd seen that didn't have any construction going on. But, Ian didn't like the idea of paying a site fee that came with absolutely nothing but the grounds. Hmph. This was proving to be difficult.

It wasn't until we were back in New Mexico, feeling more unsure than ever about where we wanted to get married, that we found it. I was reading my Real Simple Weddings book late one night when I came across a wedding in a barn in southern Colorado. Light. Bulb. We were only two hours from Southern Colorado. The weight of planning a wedding from afar lifted from my shoulders. I Googled, and Googled, and Googled. Blue Lake Ranch in Durango looked nice, but Durango is really too remote for our traveling guests. Dunton Hot Springs near Telluride is even more remote but almost seemed worth it: You can rent the entire town (yes, it's an old ghost town) including the multiple hot-spring pools. But the price proved it too remote in more ways than one.

Third time's a charm. I stumbled upon Devil's Thumb Ranch. Five-thousand raw acres of mountainous Colorado with a renovated barn on a completely, sustainable ranch. Whew. That's a mouthful, but that's because it has a lot to offer.

People ask me why Colorado? One, it's in between both of our families. But it's also a place Ian and I steal away to for long weekends in the mountains, so we associate it with fun, adventure, and relaxation.

In the end, we decided on what felt right. We knew that traveling would be involved for at least half the guests so we decided to make it a destination wedding for everyone. The ranch feels unique, is filled with one-of-a-kind antiques, has gourmet food, and, most importantly, has an inclusive-package that fit our budget. Well, sort of.

How many venues did you look at before you found the one? Did you always know what you were looking for or did you stumble upon it, unexpectedly?

Photo 1 by AndrewTCurry

Last photo by Laura Dombrowski

The Women Who Came Before Me

2009-02-13T16:12:00.001-08:00

Unlike the title would imply, this post is not about my mother, my grandmother, or even my great-grandmother. Not that I didn't like my mom's wedding--she got married in a chapel on a grassy knoll over the ocean in Malibu. Not too shabby. I even looked into a venue nearby, a venue I'd dreamed about since I was a child playing in the sand on the beach that it borders: The Adamson House, a historic spanish-style casa that edges right up to the most popular surfing beach in Los Angeles. Turns out, The Adamson House was ridiculously out of our budget and, in the moment I found that out, it dispelled any dreams of getting married in my hometown of Los Angeles. Okay, true, I didn't look very hard, but when I get my heart set on something, I have trouble seeing anything else.

Until I started sifting through design blogs and magazines and falling hopelessly in love with all things barefoot, earthy, rustic, wide open and natural. I feel warmth when I think about these ideas, especially within an industry that mass produces all things uptight, too-poised, well-coiffed, and picture perfect. Thus, Ian and I decided all we need is a field for our ceremony and a barn for all of our friends and family to gather and dance.

My fiance is the main reason for our choice. He's a country boy who grew up amidst maple- and apple-trees, who had dirt under his fingernails every afternoon as a child, and has taught me how to plant trees, build fires, and walk barefoot in the grass. His love for barns was born because he grew up in one. His father renovated a barn into their home with his own two hands so we felt like this structure was very meaningful to celebrate in.

The second seed of inspiration comes from a couple brides I came across who pulled off warm, unique, and country-inspired celebrations of their own. The first was Maie and Jim, a couple who got married in upstate New York, where Ian is from, on a private estate. That launched my search for an estate, a farm, a lodge, a summer camp, anywhere we could rent out for all of our guests to gather for the entire weekend. They pulled off details I'd never seen before: hay as benches during the ceremony and antique doors as an alter of sorts. Not to mention her Monique Lhuillier gown had me drooling at my computer.

The second bride I saw was featured on Once Wed, a favorite blog of mine, under the name "Oh My Deer." That also happens to be the eponymous name of her shop on etsy.com, an "ebay" for people selling crafts and homemade goods. The thing I love about Chelsea and Tec's wedding was the way all of their friends and family members became a part of the wedding by contributing things (a great budgeting tool). The trinkets on the tables were donated by friends, the trees on the tables--thought to have died--came to life about a month before the wedding after debuting in her sisters wedding, and the property was also a friends. Chelsea's designs inspired me to be unique, collect vintage bottles and tins as vases, and mainly, she taught me not to worry about it looking so "pulled together." If each thing has a reason for being there, it will all fall into place.

My mom still tells me stories about her wedding--how she doesn't remember ever feeling the pressure that brides do now, to pull off some overly-designed event. She hardly remembers where she got her flowers, she mentions the chapel being donated to my father and her, and that her dress, a long-sleeved, Victorian-style gown (that still sits yellowing in her closet) cost $300 from a store ironically named Country Bride. Maybe the lesson here is one from her: It's been over thirty years since my parents had their humble celebration and they're still married. Regardless of cost or showiness, their wedding was a symbol of their love, and that's what stands strong in her memory.

Which brides have inspired your wedding? Are they friends or did you find them via internet? Which of your details were inspired by that bride?

Photos 1 and 2 by Vallentyne Photography
Photos 3 and 4 by Jose Villa

A Year in Santa Fe

2008-05-26T12:25:00.000-07:00

One year. It's been nearly an entire year since I've returned to this blank field where words and letters can and will fill this empty space (when I want them to). I read an article this morning in which Gawker's Emily Gould explains her demise by blogging in The New York Times Magazine's Exposed, and whether it meant to or not, it made my brain and fingers stir again.

One year ago, when Ian and I trucked across country to find new shelter (physical and emotional) in Santa Fe, my aunt said to me, "I hope Santa Fe is good for your love." She is a spiritual one, mind you. I giggled it off, embarrassed by the sentiment (which she nearly always carries) but now I can only say it has been no less than "good for our love."

The sandy, rust-stained earth of Santa Fe has sprouted an entirely new era, mindset, definition in and of our lives. We no longer hole up inside a Brooklyn apartment on bleak, snowy days; We swoosh through the woods that tumble towards Santa Fe from behind the ski basin, thrilled at the powder that rushes at our faces and tingles our skin with cold. Summer is no longer for sweating in scummy subway stations; Instead we're charging through woodsy trails to waterfalls flowing strong after the snow's melt or jumping of brown, barren cliffs into lakes while our dogs bark from the water's edge.

We've turned a rental into a home, it's weed-strewn grounds now tilled into patches of tomatoes, basil, eggplants, and peppers. The steel wind mill across the streets whines in the wind and reminds us that we might not hear a siren or a cab's honk for weeks, maybe months. Instead, we hear mountain bikes whizzing by after a romp on the nearby trails or an occassional car kicking up dust and rocks (yes, we live on a dirt road!) on its way to the Audobon Center.

About three weeks ago, we returned from a two-week jaunt in Europe (something we'd been itching to do, but could never afford while in New York). I, in the French Alps, to write a story for Outside's GO, and Ian, to meet me in Italy after I finished. We ate risotto and zuppa, zipped around on a motorino, hiked through vineyards, and treasured the art.

But most importantly, while on Capri, we got engaged. It's hard for me to not smile about this--maybe because saying those words sounds so cliche and cheesy, but mostly because I am so excited. I find myself sifting through wedding venues, dresses, message boards, and blogs non-stop, dreaming up our humble celebration. I say humble because we've decided we want nothing more than a field on a lake or river, some grass, trees, and a huge barn for everyone to gather. If that doesn't convince you that Santa Fe has changed us, than I don't know what would.

My ring, a 60-year-old family heirloom, comes this week. And funny enough, it's originally from Brooklyn.

Image 1, 2, and 3 thanks to Ian Troxell.
Image 4 thanks to flickr-rickr according to this license.

An 8-Course, $170 Meal (per person!) in New Orleans

2007-06-03T20:45:00.000-07:00

First, I must tell you, I don't like to spend more than $25 per meal--especially when I'm driving cross-country on a tight budget. But, when six restaurant managers invite you to a meal where they are personally aquainted with the chef, you just can't say no. Well, maybe you can once you find out you're paying for your meal--and it's $170. Too late, it's already in your belly.

Cuvee, as most people know it, is a champagne--possibly one of the top ten in the world. To me, Cuvee is an eight-course meal (at least) including wine paired with nearly every dish, not to mention a Port wine from 1927. The chef? 32-year-old Bob Iacovone, a native of Massachusetts, who journeyed south and discovered how to spice up Creole food (if that's possible) with French and Spanish influence.

We sat down (after a quick dress code-check as we walked in the door) to be greeted with a spritzy Pa Ohler riesling alongside remoulade-covered shrimp atop fried squash. Perfectly creamy and not too greasy. Next, fried oysters were brought out on a bed of thinly-sliced cucumbers in a bloody mary sauce. Now, I've only had ocean-pulled oysters which can be rather salty. For those, check out Boston's B&G Oysters. The local-oysters in New Orleans are from freshwater and are as silky as a slice of butter.

While seafood was holding up the appetizer portion of the meal, no meal is complete without a salad to start. Their popular chop salad is a mixture of bleu cheese, bacon, apples, dark greens, with a dallop of bleu cheese dressing and a homemade saltine cracker in the shape of a half-moon on top.

After studying abroad in Italy, during college, I came to understand the importance of bread as a fifth (fifth?) utensil. At Cuvee, the bread basket combines white bread, biscuits, and cornbread to keep with Southern tradition.

Back to seafood, next came a large, fried bay scallop over spaghetti'd squash with chopped baby jalapenos and tomatoes. This was paired with an oaky chardonnay by Ramey. Seared, herbed Yellowfin tuna came next over creamed sweet corn and mashed potatoes with thin slices of aromatic truffles.

Not to break up the dinner, but halfway through the filling of our bellies, a traditional New Orleans wedding strolled by the window. White parasols bounced above the bridesmaids while men in black suits did a sort of hop-dance down the street. Turned out, they were celebrating the marraige at Cuvee.

Next on the menu came Red Snapper over a crabcake. It was accompanied by pickled, South African sweet peppers that were tangy and unique-tasting. To wash it down, we were poured a refreshing sauvignon blanc.

Foie gras. This is one of those foods that my French friend, Anne-Cecile, tries to force feed me. I can't do it. But, on this night, there was nothing better to touch my tastebuds. It was like the tiniest bite of the best steak I had ever eaten. There was so much flavor, I didn't need a whole 12 oz. The triangle-shaped foie gras was served over a bread crisp smeared with goat cheese. Also, on the crisp, was a balsamic strawberry--sweet and savory perfection.

As if that wasn't rich enough, the next dish was a creme brulee with tiny bits of foie gras--accentuating the rich, deliciously-fat flavors in the dessert.

Just when we thought we had been served dessert, a rosemary-and-wine chicken was set before us. The chicken breast was stuffed with homemade Borson cheese, and served over what else than a waffle. Now, I'm from LA and this was exactly like the LA-staple Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles only it was topped with a Mississippi cane syrup. What goes better with the chicken-and-waffle combo than a textured burgundy? And after, a deep pinot noir. Immediately after the chicken-and-waffle combo, we were served smoked duck on perfectly al dente risotto.

Now for dessert! Macadamia-crusted espresso ice cream drowning in fudge. A cookie wrapped in chocolate, infused with orange zest. And, a bowl of sorbet that tasted nothing short of the childhood-pastime, creamsicle. And a sweet, syrupy Port wine from 1927 to wash it down. It felt almost sinful to open the bottle.

Tell me, what is the best meal you've ever had?

Image 1 thanks to notashamed thanks to this license.
Image 2 thanks to _e.t thanks to this license.
Image 3 thanks to princess of_llyr thanks to this license.

New Orleans: Jazz Fest 2007

2007-05-20T16:28:00.000-07:00

Jazz Fest: A six-day music festival (split between two weekends) with everyone from Harry Connick Jr., Counting Crows, John Mayor, to Galactic, Norah Jones, and Van Morrison.

But don't get me wrong. The festival is not only about music. It's about shopping, with booths like the African-heritage Congo Square or the Louisiana Marketplace with local folk art (where I bought a cowboy hat to shade my face from the strong Southern sun!). And, it's also really about food: pulled pork po-boys, alligator pie, muffuletta, crawfish, fried chicken, and the most refreshing mango sorbet ever.

So, really, Jazz Fest is about New Orleans culture. The cajun-influenced flavors, the foot-stomping blues, the Louisiana sun beating down, and of course, cute little festival babies like the one above.

Unfortunately, we pulled into New Orleans too late on Friday to see the likes of George Benson or ZZ Top, but it was actually for the better. Friday was drenched in a serious rainstorm that had festival-goers up their ankles in water. Shelter couldn't even be sought out under the blues tent or the gospel tent, the water was just as high.

Saturday turned out to be one big mud-fest. Those who had taken a rain-check on Friday, made their way to the festival on Saturday making it one of the most crowded festival days in history. But, the more the merrier, right? The fields were so muddy, some people wore their galoshes, while others just traipsed through the mess.

Around two, we went to check out Buckwheat Zydeco. Then onto New Orleans-natives Cowboy Mouth which drew a crowd so large there was no moving forward, even from way back. I saw Cowboy Mouth in New York City only months before--the show was great but nothing like seeing them in their hometown. On our way to Galactic, we got sucked into the Stephen Marley with Junior Gong show. We danced as Stephen Marley sang his father's Iron, Lion, Zion and I am almost positive it was what being at a Bob Marley show is like. And, although I tried to convince a group of eight guys to go watch John Mayer, I didn't win that battle and we sat on the lawn to catch the end of the Allman Brothers' Melissa.

For a mere price of around $35 a day, Jazz Fest is definitely worth a trip to New Orleans. Not only does it support the local economy, it brings in some legendary musicians. Not to mention, some damn good home cookin'.

New Orleans: A Photo Essay

2007-05-18T16:23:00.000-07:00

NEW ORLEANS

The French Quarter: New buildings alongside Katrina's path.

A beautiful home on St. Charles Avenue in the Garden District

People eating on their balcony.

A train along the Mississippi River. Some choice words.

A palace on St. Charles Avenue.

At the end of St. Charles Avenue. Is this slogan referring to Katrina?

A proper Southern home on St. Charles Avenue.

[Images thanks to Ian Troxell.]

Journeying South: A Culinary Road Trip

2007-05-16T07:11:00.000-07:00

Two-thousand nine-hundred miles to go. We're heading south on I-81 and I've never seen more farmland, more Amish-country, mustard field, grassy rolling hills into red barn farmland. I'm practically waiting for a buggy to roll by. Pennsylvania must be the most beautiful state I've ever seen. Ian and I are driving towards North Carolina in Ian's red pick-up truck, our stuff bulging out in every direction, a kayak, bike, and cooler all strapped down to the roof of the cap. And, now, with this farmland in front of me, I've never wanted to stick my hands in moist, rich soil as much as I do now. It is exactly how John Grogan describes it in NY Times Bestseller Marley & Me (an endearing book about a young newspaper journalist and his chaotic yellow lab).

Over the next few hours we cross through Maryland, West Virginia, Virginia, Tennessee and into a leafy, almost rainforest-like North Carolina. The farther south we go the greener it gets--as if winter never touches these humid, soggy places. In Virginia, we pull off for dinner at an unassuming intersection with an Applebees and a Waffle House catty-corner to each other. Our choice? Mrs. Rowe's Restaurant—a plantation-like restaurant, with home-cooked perfectly battered fried chicken, warm, baked apples with hints of cinnamon, savory spoon bread (a rice pudding-textured corn bread that is salty and sweet and feels so good sticking to your tongue and your teeth), and proper Southern sweet tea.

It isn’t until after dark when we pull into the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, rain pelting us from above a canopy of giant trees. Because the park is sliced down the middle by the Tennessee/North Carolina border, the exact state our tent is pitched in is still in question, but the babbling brook nearby lilts us off to sleep—even if the ground we are sleeping on feels like the hardest slab of slate ever.

I tell Ian I want to take a walk in the morning, check out some of the looming park nearby, but in a tired state of thoughtlessness, Ian locks his keys in the car. Calling AAA is proving to be a feat up here in the mountains, and soon a crowd of fellow camping guys has gathered around the car, sticking knives and sticks and antennae into the crack in the door to jimmy it open and telling jokes in thick Southern slurs. It is a miracle when Ian manages to jab his antennae onto the unlock button.

We drive through the Appalachians for a while, winding past a boulder-filled riverbed in which the water level is too low for swimming. We pass through Maggie Valley, a small mountain town with storefronts that tout one tourist attraction after another—Ghost Town in The Sky, All-American Transportation Museum, Blue Ridge Gem Mine. It’s hokey here, but beautiful, and kids don’t seem to notice cheesy anyway. We pass through a Cherokee Reservation, with storefronts touting moccasins and Kachina dolls and I am reminded of a Kachina doll I once had, whose long, black eyelashes lolled up and down when I moved her. We pass the 1996 Olympic’s White Water Rafting Course and Ian tells me this it the white water capital of the U.S. and I believe him. Every building we see is another adventure company guiding trips down the Ocoee River. Gates are set up through each rapids course for more technical trips.

Heading south on I-81 again, we have a destination in mind: Dreamland BBQ, a restaurant I read about in Travel + Leisure. After descending out of North Carolina, we pass through a leafy Georgia and into sweltering Alabama. We pull off the highway in Tuscaloosa, a honey-suckle scented backwoods neighborhood of Alabama where mouth-watering Dreamland is located. On your way to Dreamland, your nose will tell you if you are headed in the right direction long before your eyes see their sign. Inside, the place is a dive: no windows and the walls are covered in college sports teams’ memorabilia. We sit down at a table next to a framed newspaper clipping of President Bush. Apparently the President placed an order of ribs to-go so he could enjoy them on a flight.

“We have three items,” says our buxom waitress in a thick Southern drawl, “Ribs. Potato chips. And banana puddin'.” Turns out, the ribs can actually be separated into three items also: Rib sandwich. Rib plate. Or slab of ribs. Before we can even order, a stack of white Wonder Bread on a paper plate is set on our red checkerboard cloth-covered table with the most delicious, spicy BBQ dipping sauce. A slab of ribs is plopped down before us, also drenched in the same sauce, and before we know it, the tender meat of the ribs has fallen off the bones into our mouths. A few sips of sweet tea, bellies full, we exit the restaurant to the sounds of church singing coming from a nearby service. Only, we can't see any churches, only small one-room wooden houses with chipping paint and clotheslines. The woman's voice is alone, singing words of hallelujah and we are back on the road headed for the once-fallen city of sin and indulgence, New Orleans...

Image 1 thanks to psmyph according to this license.
Image 2 thanks to rjones0856 according to this license.
Image 3 thanks to Edgie168 according to this license.

This is a test of the emergency broadcasting system...

2007-05-04T21:27:00.000-07:00

Please, please, please excuse the interruption of my ever-steady blog posting! We are making our way across this wide, wide country. Just in the last two days we've traversed New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland, West Virginia, Virginia (oh, the fried chicken!), Tennessee, North Carolina (oh, so green!), back to Tennessee, Alabama (oh, the ribs!), through Mississippi, and now, we are in New Orleans. All of that in two days work is rather tiring...

Although the 5 days of rest and relaxation in Oxford, NY were a good prep for our exhausting adventures. Plenty of posts to come, believe me. Patience, my friend, is a virtue. ; )

Back in action soon...

Bidding adieu.

2007-04-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

Today is my last day in New York City. Tomorrow we are packing up and shipping out. I have to say, for a last day, New York has done a great job of making it one of those typical annoying mornings when the grime and the grease start to make you snap at tourists who stand too long on street corners.

Of course, on the last day that I will ever need to ride the subway, my month-long subway pass expires. Okay, I'm not complaining--so I timed it almost perfectly, but when I head to the subway card-dispensing machine (because the people station attendants no longer sell tickets--not really sure what they do. They certainly don't give friendly directions.), it is not taking credit cards or debit cards. As is the story of Brooklyn!

No problem. I'll just head back out into the pouring rain that is soaking through my leather boots, juggle my $6 breakfast smoothie with my umbrella that will probably turn inside-out at any minute, and hit up the Bank of America ATM.

Convenience. The only saving grace for this moldy, abused city. Thanks to convenience, there is a Bank of America right down the street. I would have just gone to any of the seven ATMs I pass on my way to B of A, but the idea of a $3.50 charge is making me think I might as well just take a cab to work.

After getting money out, I realize that most likely the subway card-dispensing machines don't give change and I don't feel like taking a chance that it does, only to climb the stairs up to the street yet again. And since ATMs only spit out in increments of twenty, I am forced to slip into a drugstore for change. Buy a pack of gum, get my ten, my five, my ones and merrily (albeit twenty minutes late) descend down the stairs into the rumbling, damp (and now, flooding) subway station.

Life is hard in this city. And this morning was just one example of the common obstacles that make a simple task (i.e. a commute to work) become a silly goose chase. I will miss the depth of the people here--they carry a self-assuredness that I have yet to see in other places, a real strength. Pride in their interests--interests that are not manufactured by the mainstream--and a love for challenge. And although I admire how people here thrive on challenge (because I too will up the ante most days), the challenges here just don't seem worth it to me: cramming in to 400 sq. feet of space and trying to live a sane life. Only being able to afford those 400 sq. ft. because the cost of living here makes every day a battle. A battle...for what?

And so I leave, with much respect for those who choose to revel in the remarkable culture, energy, and rhythm this city has, but with no regrets. The quality of life has become too deprived.

[Image 1 thanks to efeb according to this license.]
[Image 2 thanks to Ian Troxell--my partner in adventure and crime.]
[Image 3 thanks to B.G. Johnson according to this license.]

Life's A...Beach!

2007-04-24T11:23:00.000-07:00

Whenever the weather gets warm and my freckles start showing again, I can't help but dream of laying on the beach, sliding my feet around in warm sand, smelling my coconut-scented Hawaiian Tropic suntan lotion, and thinking of absolutely nothing. Except how badly I want to grab my surfboard and paddle out.

It's been tough living in Brooklyn, battling my way to the beach on the trains only to discover unsatisfying surf. Not to mention the $6 fee it takes just to get onto the beach in Long Beach--the closest and nicest of train-accessible beaches. Yes, $6 just to cross over from the boardwalk onto the sand.

This was a shock to me the first time I spent a day in this Long Island beach town. With one surf shop (decent enough) and local-magnet, burrito shack Aye Caramba (which also serves Caribbean fare), the image of what beach town meant to me (Santa Barbara and San Diego) floated farther and farther away. Even the scent of salty sea was nowhere to be found.

To me, Hawaii does it right. By law, all beaches must be open to the public. Yes, even the beaches in front of those mega-resorts like the Four Seasons Resort at Hualalai in Kona or the Princeville Resort in Kauai must let people onto the beach who are not staying at the hotel.
How to gain this said public access? When you drive up to the kiosk to enter the parking lot, just ask for a beach pass.

My favorite beaches in the world (okay, so I haven't been to Fiji, New Zealand, or most of the world yet), are in Hawaii. Sadly, the turquoise waters of Kua Bay in Kona, are no longer only accessible by an adventurous walk across a mile of black, sharp lava field. I know this doesn't sound enjoyable, but now that a paved road leads tourists right up to Kua Bay's white sands, the cove no longer feels like its your own when you arrive.

Lanikai, on Oahu, is my second favorite. The first time I arrived was by kayak. Gorgeous mansions line the shore, the Chinaman's Hat island looks so close, like you could doggy paddle your way right over to it. Brilliant coral in fuschia and blue creates an underwater civilization while sea turtles glide through less dense parts.

And unlike the beach that lines Malibu Colony's shore, anyone can settle into the sand, soft as velvet, with a book and a towel and enough drinking water to last all day long...

(Now fill me in. What's your favorite beach? Don't worry, we won't tell.)

[Image 1 thanks to Laura A according to this license.]
[Image 2 thanks to sarahkim according to this license.]
[Image 3 thanks to ssylvis according to this license.]

Earth Day 2007: What's In Your Area

2007-04-18T18:44:00.000-07:00

One of my clearest memories is standing out on the hot, black asphalt of my elementary school's playground as a child, my tiny fist gripping the string of the yellow balloon. My friends around me were all holding onto theirs too, their knuckles red and white from holding on so tightly, anticipating the countdown. We'd all written letters (mostly just our names in crayon) on pieces of paper that were folded neatly and stuffed into the pre-inflated balloons, visible through the translucent rubber skin of the floating sphere overhead.

"3, 2, 1..." Release. Hundreds of yellow balloons drifted up, up, up, at first blocking out the sky and then get tinier and tinier the farther up they went. On the car ride home, all I could do was wonder where my balloon would pop, who would find the perfect creases of my note, my name written in rose-colored Crayola. I pictured it like a message in a bottle, washing up on some distant shore...

Of course, that was over ten years ago. And as the world has learned by now (or at least my elementary school has), those balloon releases are detrimental to animals (mainly in the ocean) who think they're food and choke on the rubber, not to mention that rubber is not biodegradable. We no longer do balloon releases, but we ONLY haven't been doing them for ten years! And our recent environmental naiveté is as bright as the sun.

This Earth Day, April 22, I'd like to give back for all the years I released a hopeful balloon only to have it pop and fall from it's swift current--it's probably still caught in a redwood tree somewhere in Northern California.

Earth Day festivals and events are springing up (or happening again!) all over this country. For all of us who live in the concrete jungle of New York, even we have somewhere to go. Head over to Brooklyn for Prospect Park's Celebration, April 21-22, and take a nature walk or a boat tour, even volunteer to spruce up the plants.

If you live in Chicago, check out Friends of the Parks event Chicago Parks & Preserves Clean-Up on April 21 from 9AM-Noon. Seattle? Join the People for Puget Sound and roll up your sleeves for the Duwamish Alive Earth Day. Nine simultaneous habitat restoration projects will be in motion along the Duwamish River.

The Los Angeles area is studded with Earth Day events. Inkwell Surf is holding their 2nd Annual Earth Day Event at Inkwell Beach on Pico and Bay St. Volunteers will be rewarded with lunch and refreshments. Rock Your Planet! is throwing it's launch party to demonstrate how to live sustainably, without sacrifice.

Throwing an event? Offset your event's carbon footprint and reduce climate change through Carbon Fund. Your donation will go towards carbon-friendly projects like renewable energy and reforestation projects. Find out how much you should give back by fiddling with their carbon calculator.

Another great way to give back is through Food & Wine magazine's Grow for Good, a campaign striving to donate $1 million for Farm to Table, an initiative that supports local farms and encourages sustainable agriculture.

And if you can't make it out for Earth Day weekend, give back to a conservation effort any other time of year. Simply plant a tree.

One of my favorite field trips as a kid was to TreePeople, a forest of a hillside in Los Angeles with walkways covered in wood chips that would crunch under my feet. Every time I went, I got to plant a seedling. Some of those seedlings must be teenagers by now, trees much taller than I am, with limbs and needles cleaning up the air I, and so many of us, have been dirtying. I'm sure they've erased a little of our carbon mess--but only a little, we still have about 7 billion footprints to go.

[Image 1 thanks to Jon Ingrham according to this license.]
[Image 2 thanks to *n*o*o*r* according to this license.]
[Image 3 thanks to sindesign according to this license.]

Adventures of a Kona Town Transplant

2007-04-15T17:26:00.000-07:00

Two years ago, I spent a summer in the coconut tree studded town of Kailua-Kona on the Big Island of Hawaii. "Kona Town," as the locals call it, is one of two major towns (as major as it can be) on the largest island of the paradisiacal chain. The other town, Hilo, sits on the wetter side of the island connected by Saddle Road, a road that cuts the volcanic island in half. It is said that if you see an old lady on the side of this dark, windy road, you must pick her up, for she is Pele's sister and Pele is the Goddess of Fire. She controls the active volcano that is erupting in Hawaii's Southwest corner--and you don't want to make her angry.

Black fields of dry lava reach across Kona's undeveloped land and although the town is relatively drier than it's rainforest counterpart, clouds accumulate every afternoon and spill rain over the town. The air is heavy, and heavier right before the daily storm. But the storm is brief, and warm, and allows for relief from the humidity's weighty pressure.

No matter how fine the rainstorms are, when you are a waitress who caters to the only outdoor section that is unsheltered in a packed, tourist-filled restaurant, they tend to pose a problem. At first sight of water beading up on the tabletops, salt shakers are quickly rounded up. On most days, this wet stint happens before the rush, before the tables are sat and the food is a bullseye target.

One day, however, the restaurant was full. Fuller than usual. My section, unprotected by the retractable tarp that rolls out over three-quarters of the patio, had couples and singles and families at every table with hot dogs and coconut shrimp and mai tais with little purple flowers floating in them.

The rain came fast and drove in bullets, aiming directly for the french fries, the calimari, and in particuler, the fish sandwich. My customers made a run for it, snagging the last stools at the indoor bar, crouching under the tarp, balancing their plates on the rock wall. Whatever they could do to avoid watery ketchup. I headed into the storm, round tray in hand to gather what I could of the salt-and-pepper shakers, to save any salveagable food my customers hadn't been able to grab.

"Can I help you guys move inside?" I asked a middle-aged couple that had stayed put. They continued to dig into their now-soggy, and becoming soggier, nachos. The woman's glasses were spotty with raindrops and the man's aloha shirt was turning darker blue by the second.

"No, we're fine," The woman said, her glass of beer now watered-down.

"Are you sure?" I asked. The grassy, oceanfront lawn in front of the restaurant was abandoned, its lounging visitors had run for cover minutes before.

The man looked up at me and said, "This is our 35th anniversary. And this is how we want to remember it."

I stood there for a moment, mesmerized by this couple, so carefree and in-the-moment. It didn't matter how uncomfortable they might be in the hours to come, or even in that moment, all that mattered was that they wanted to create this memory and have a story to tell for the years to come.

"Alright," I said. And all I could do was hope that when I am their age, I would sit as completely serenely beneath as heavy and wet a rainstorm, just to feel so alive.

I set some dry napkins on their table, turned around and scanned the sheltered lava rock wall for my scrambling customers.

New York to Santa Fe, The Ultimate Road Trip

2007-04-12T12:16:00.000-07:00

One of my absolute favorite things to do is road trip. But not only the driving part, you see. I find incredible joy in plotting out every stop--finding the best places to pull off the road whether to eat, to rest, or just to contemplate my navel (as my massage-therapist aunt would say). You could say itineraries are my specialty.

I've taken on many a road in California, heading northeast to snowy mountain-town Mammoth, south to San Diego as it bathes in warmth, straight east through hours of barren desert to Vegas (with my fingers crossed that I'd hit the jackpot once I arrived!). But in all my travels on four wheels, I've only done one road trip that involved an overnight stop to my final destination. And yes, it was the inevitable Route 1 California coastal drive from Los Angeles to just north of San Francisco--Mill Valley, a historic, affluent town enshrouded in giant redwoods. Not to say it wasn't incredibly scenic and adventurous, it's just overplayed.

At the end of this month, my boyfriend Ian and I are taking on the Mother Trip--a 5-day road race from New York through the South and back up to Santa Fe, New Mexico. Aside from being well-traveled on the East and West Coasts, I've never ventured in to the middle of this country be it South, Middle, or North. So, we've been sure to include stops in New Orleans (just so happens to be during Jazz Fest!) and Austin, TX for some big, beefy BBQ.

Our start point? Ian's parent's barn-turned-house in tiny, farm town Oxford, New York. After a few days of decompression from New York City we'll be heading south to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park on the border of North Carolina and Tennessee. After camping amidst forest and waterfalls, we'll mosey on down to New Orleans for two nights in the French Quarter. And over to Austin, to Guadalupe Mountains National Park for another camping jaunt, and then up to adobe-laden Santa Fe, New Mexico where we'll be making our new home for the next six months (thanks to a new job at Outside Magazine!).

I've figured out where we will lay our heads for those five nights. Anyone have any suggestions of where we can snack along the way? I'm all ears.

[Image 1 thanks to Daniel Muriello according to this license.]
[Image 2 thanks to Ian Troxell, once again.]

Farmer's Market's in the Air

2007-04-09T07:24:00.000-07:00

When I first moved to New York City, in summer months heavy with humidity, one of my saving graces was the farmer's market that lined the city sidewalks with buckets and barrels of ruby strawberries, orange and green heirloom tomatoes, artisan cheeses, and homemade jams. When I first came I was living in the high reaches of the Upper West Side. Farmers stood beneath the shelter of their shady tents with puffy pastries, spongy breads, and promises of crisp apple cider in the fall.

After two months I migrated to Brooklyn Heights where I clutched my air conditioner until the days and nights were just cool enough to escape the apartment and settle into pleasant summer temperatures. No matter where I went, it seemed a farmer's market plopped right down around the corner--a spread of culinary delight for my eyes, nose, and especially mouth to feast upon.

Almost year-round (sans the months when snowflakes fall from the skies and the temperatures dip below bearable), the local farmers find their way to Borrough Hall (Court Street & Montague Street) and stand tall with fruits and vegetables they've planted, nurtured, and nourished on display. For a couple dollars, I can buy sweet, yellow ears of corn, fragrant basil that opens the doors of Italy in my kitchen, and maple syrup tapped from trees not too far from my doorstep.

Since 1976, Greenmarkets have flourished in New York City with over forty-four markets dotting the five boroughs. With everything from organic produce to fish to wine and baked goods, these sales help support local families, gather your neighbors, and preserve open, green spaces. Not only that, but eating local is better for you: the less time produce travels, the less nutrients spill out along the way.

Can't make it to the famous Union Square market? Check here for some fresh produce near you. Can't cook? No problem--bite into a crunchy apple (no frying pan necessary!) or keep an eye out for recipes concocted by Greenmarket themselves like Cucumber Puslane Yogurt Salad, Blueberry Pudding Cake or Fresh Market Salsa.

I often refer back to my recipe for Pesto. The moment I open the bag and release the scent of basil into my kitchen, I am standing on the steps of Monterosso, the Mediterranean winking up at me.

[Image 1 thanks to jaymce according to this license]

[Image 2 thanks to the talented Ian Troxell, painter and fine artist]
[Image 3 thanks to hedox.us according to this license]

Hope For The Planet Yet

2007-04-06T06:50:00.000-07:00

Frost and Los Angeles. Two words I don't normally put in the same sentence. Dew and Los Angeles? Yes. Cool temperatures and Los Angeles? Yes. But frost? My parents lost a tree that blooms with fiery red blossoms this year, not to mention, the acres and acres of citrus trees that fell to the fate of abnormal weather completely running California's economy askew.

My thoughts have been pirouetting on global warming lately--watching taxi cabs grumble through the streets of Manhattan twenty-four hours a day wafting toxic fumes into our Earth's lungs, seeing an office refrigerator chock-full of water bottles right next to a sink. And, believe it or not, New York City has some high quality tap water, according to the New York City Department of Environmental Protection. Residents can even have their tap water tested at no cost by The Free Residential Testing Program, a program required by the state that stands as one of the largest of its kind in the country!

So, what are we doing? What can we do? Well, NPR had a good idea yesterday. Instead of buying a $2 bottle of make-you-feel-good Ethos Water at Starbucks (which donates 75 cents to in-need communities, but also aids in harming our planet), take that $2 and send it over to UNICEF's new Tap Project.

The April issue of Outside Magazine--dedicated to all things Green--had some noteworthy suggestions that may even take the pressure off your wallet and improve your health. Join a car-share network now available in 65 cities or get some use out of that lonesome ten-speed bike in the garage and start or join a bike-share program. If you must use a car (which many of us must), keep your tires pumped for better fuel economy. Traveling? Rent a hybrid. Aid in saving 62 million trees by opting out of receiving junk mail. Want more daily tips? Outside recommends Ideal Bite for advice on greener living via e-mail.

And just in case you haven't sprung into an earthier lifestyle yet, read this. As noted by Outside Magazine, "Science [magazine] estimates that by 2048 there will be no commercially harvestable seafood left."

Hope you don't like salmon all that much.

[Image 1 thanks to 0 W8ing according to this license.]

[Image 2 thanks to sato sugar according to this license.]

Whole Foods Steps It Up

2007-04-04T14:23:00.000-07:00

Just when you thought you were doing yourself good by shopping at Whole Foods Market, you can now do other people good as well! By selecting products with the just-released Whole Trade label, you'll be aiding workers all over the planet--and specifically the ones who helped put that can of organic tomatoes in your hands.

Brand new to the store this month, look for the Whole Trades Guarantee label on items such as tea, bananas, mangoes, rice, sugar, and vanilla. Three of Whole Food's Allegro coffee--Organic French Roast, Organic Guatemalan, and Organic El Salvador--have also been stamped. Purchasing these items promises more money to producers, allowing them the ability to always produce their high-quality product without falter, and provides an outlet for low-income producers who can then, in-turn, create better work environments for their workers.

It's not all about the labor, though. The Guarantee is also promoting sound environmental practices (like integrated pest management systems and soil and water conservation techniques).

One percent of retail sales will go to the Whole Planet Foundation--a non-profit that devotes its funds to the poor in the countries that are filling Whole Food's shelves with products.

Worrying about where the money is going can be left to the Rainforest Alliance and TransFair USA--the certifiers who are making sure it gets to where it needs to be. Look for the do-gooders label in the grocery and produce departments for starters, but keep an eye out because it should be popping up all over as Whole Foods brings in more food items from developing countries.

So...eat up!

[Images thanks to adlaw according to this license.]

An Unlikely Pair (or should I say pear)

2007-04-02T18:51:00.000-07:00

I can't explain it. There's something about the scratchy texture of a pear's flesh that's been diced into a cup of creamy yogurt and then mixed with wholesome grains like barley, oat and wheat. It's like a big glass of ice water--so refreshing! Okay, so maybe I'm sounding like your grandmother--"Put wheat germ on everything!"--but Liberté's Six Grains Yogurt is simply delectable.

I first discovered it after a day of snowboarding in the East Coast ski town of Lincoln, New Hampshire. Half Baked & Fully Brewed (187 Main Street; 603/745-8811), a cozy coffee shop and purveyor of all-natural, take-home meals like oven-ready Curried Lamb and handmade Artichoke & Portabello Mushroom Ravioli, can be considered the culprit of my addiction.

Sweetened with only fruit juice and blended with grains like rye, oat, buckwheat, rice, wheat, and barley, Six Grains is incredibly healthy and organic but does not fall short of feeling like a treat. Pear is my favorite (and, you'll find, most-often sold out) but Six Grains can also be found in strawberry, raspberry, and peach!

Quebec-based Liberté is an eco-friendly dairy company focused on sustainable business practices and delivering organic goods to its customers. Six Grains (and other Liberté products) can be found in Whole Food's stores, Fairway Markets, Stop & Shop Natural Department and other specialty stores in the Northeast.

[Image 1 thanks to Alejandro Sandoval according to this license.]
[Image 2 thanks to roboppy according to this license.]

A Yogic Escape

2007-03-31T16:46:00.000-07:00

As a native Southern Californian living in New York City, I often struggle with finding peace of mind in this whirling, insane environment. Taxis honk constantly, trucks rattle at eardrum-bursting decibels, and I now understand that zig-zagging between fellow pedestrians is a learned art form (which New Yorkers have mastered, might I add!). Okay, okay. So, I don't live in Manhattan (I live in the much-calmer borough of Brooklyn ), but I still face the daily debacle of the subway commute and even Brooklyn Heights is no Malibu.

In my search for some sort of quiet sanctuary, I stumbled upon my local Bikram yoga studio on boutique-filled Montague Street. I practiced Bikram sporadically in Los Angeles, always grumbling my way through the 90-minute, sweat-inducing class, but as much as I had to push myself, I always came out feeling on top of the world. So, I gave it a try.

The Bikram Yoga Brooklyn Heights studio (106 Montague St. between Henry St. and Hicks St., 718/797-2100) has become my weekly escape. On the second floor of a storefront apartment building, the space is more expansive and spa-like than most with two dressing rooms (one for the ladies and one for the men), tiled showers, and a boutique-like clothing rack in the front lined with spandex shorts and embroided tank tops for sale. When I'm feeling like this city is about to swallow me whole, I slip into this quiet sanctuary and lose myself in the 26 postures, and by the last savasana (pose of total relaxation), I've let my entire day go.

For a list of the top 25 yoga classes around the world, check out Travel + Leisure's latest report from Hannah Wallace: 25 Top Yoga Studios Around The World. This list is not limited to Bikram yoga and includes many branches of the yoga tree. To find out which style of yoga you'd like to get lost in, reference this list of definitions: Yoga Styles, Unwound.

No matter which class you decide on, you'll be honoring your body and your mind. Namaste.

[Image 1 thanks to stephcarter according to this license]
[Image 2 thanks to Farl according to this license.]

Run On, Runyon

2007-03-29T14:29:00.000-07:00

Escape the confines of your car and head up to Los Angeles' Runyon Canyon for a little mid-city hiking right smack dab in the middle of the Hollywood Hills. With three trails--easy, medium and hard--dotted with some of the best vista points in Los Angeles (yes, better than the lookout by Outpost Drive), you can work up a sweat and snag nearly 360-degree views that include the Hollywood Sign, the high-rises of Downtown L.A. and Century City, and, if it's a clear day, all the way out to the ocean. Because there is not much shade on the majority of the mountain, sun-protective gear is definitely recommended (as is a large, but manageable bottle of water). The best part? Dogs allowed (and off the leash)!

The recreational park is accessible from both the top and bottom of the mountain; a dirt parking lot (free!) hugs Mulholland Drive at the peak and street parking is available in the neighborhood down below (North Fuller Ave. and Franklin Ave., Hollywood). So it's your choice if you want to make your way down first or use the downhill as a much-earned relief after your hefty hike.

From the bottom, enter the gate and head up to where the trail forks. Go straight for trail with the medium level of hardness or steer left to access the hard and easy trails. The medium trail will make a u-turn past an old tennis court and then wind up onto a dirt path with well-worn, wood-beamed stairs. You'll have reached the top of the medium trail when you come to an old wood bench with a seat that's at least four feet off the ground. If you continue, the trail meets back up with the easy trail.

For the easiest route, just keep plodding up the old, paved fire road burrowed between two hillsides. A little more than 3/4 of the way up, you'll meet up with the medium trail--a wide dirt path lined with shrubs that juts out to your right. For a little view indulgence, without any uphill hiking to get to it, make a right on the medium trail and walk out to the plateau's end. From here you can see the white, block letters of the Hollywood Sign to your left. Look a little more central to find the bulbous domes of the newly remodeled Griffith Observatory atop a distant hill. Almost directly in front of you stands Downtown Los Angeles, and then the sprawling grid of Hollywood, West Hollywood, Beverly Hills, and pretty much every other city on the Westside (the "Westside" refers to anything oceanside of the hills that separate the San Fernando Valley, or "the valley," from what Angelenos call "the city").

If you're jonesing for an extra-good workout, because believe me, even the "easy" trail is nothing to feel lazy about, head up the dirt path that forks left up the hillside from the base of the easy trail for the ever-daunting, hard trail. Although it looks like it might be headed off in some random, wayward direction, it's not. Once over the small hump you'll see large homes nestled into the lush crevice of the hills. Keep an eye out for a turquoise pool that drops off into a waterfall, surrounded by teak-like wood and stout palm trees to your left and you'll get a peak into what Hollywood Hills living is all about.

Although there are several trails that drift off in the beginning of the hard trail, the one you want to be on should be obvious. Many of the smaller trails wander off only to return to the main trail anyway, so don't be worried about getting lost. Scramble up the the steep inclines, try not to slip on loose, dry dirt, and take breaks at each flat--if you don't, you'll miss the most spectacular views out there.

Once you've hit the highest peak of the hard trail, you'll come down, pass an abandoned mansion with a stuffed-animal dragon peeking out from behind broken panes of glass. Stay right after the house and follow the wide dirt road. You will see the paved fire road down to your right. You can take that up to the top parking lot or, for one last heart-inducing jaunt, take the high road to the left and head up the wooden stairs. At the top of those, stay right and it will lead you back to the top lot, or top of the easy trail.

A loop can be made out of any two of the three trails or descend the way you came, but plan on at least an hour for any of the three hikes. Unfortunately, there are no bathrooms in the entire park and not many hiding spots behind shrubs--the paths are almost always busy with hikers, not to mention all of Los Angeles is looking up at you from below. For more information check out: www.lamountains.com/parks.

Oh, and don't forget to pet as many slaphappy doggies as possible.