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I have to offer one huge and obvious suggestion for leading a less cluttered life that I am constantly applying to my own: read the labels.

Specifically, the expiration dates.

These little numbers are blessings to a Walgreen's super-fan like myself as they allow me, no, force me to pitch cold medications, gels, baking mixes, condiments and spices we have been keeping, unknowingly, well past their due dates.

( How cool is this spice/oil rack?  Perhaps on an art wall so it would just blend in as a 3D element?)

(Speaking of art- have you seen this inspired bookshelf?  More here and here.)

It would be bad if we were actually using this expired stuff but we aren't... of course not.  Because if we decide to make onion dip or get a cold, we will not search for the box of mix/medicine buried deep within our cabinet that expired in 2007 but buy a new one when we pick up the sour cream/Kleenex and whatever else you throw in/at such a dip/cold. Chives/Airborne, perhaps?  A brick of cream cheese/Cup O' Soup might hit the spot.  And don't forget the Frito Scoops/Saltines.

Image via Pinterest

(All spices expired?  Perfect!  Order in and spend all that extra time you have not-cooking reading to the kids!  Bookshelves made from this Ikea Spice rack.)

I have know this and thought I did a pretty thorough cleanse of the bathroom last spring before we put our place on the market.

I then stared scanning the door of our refrigerator in horror right before we left for Michigan this summer.  I am not sure what I expected since many of the bottles of hot sauce and pickled, well, anything, had been there since Jack and I met almost seven years ago.  I filled a garbage bag with such bottles and left our refrigerator sparkling.

(I have loved the forward facing shelf ever since seeing Kelly Wearstler's children's library so many moons ago.

Want more?)

Then this weekend- moved- I discover a tube of Neosporin from 1999.

Yes.

By all appearances this mighty tube has travelled with me from boarding school in Rhode Island to College in Ohio, San Francisco post grad and back to Chicago some 8 years ago.  Let's not forget my semester abroad in Rome.

Assuming, of course, I was even the original purchaser.

Thankfully it is such a resilient bacteria fighting ointment or I might be really scared.

And rest assured- I have at least half a dozen other tubes of Neosporin that I have picked up along the way.

Could it get any worse?

No.


Actually, it could get much, much worse. Let's not go there.


 Yet I was still surprised and disappointed to find not one but two unopened boxes of the offending onion dip/soup mixes just last night already at home in my new cupboards.  And I have never, ever, made onion soup OR dip.  I know this much is true.  

So please, check yourself, and your shelves. I have been there.  You are not alone.

Xox,

Jenny

Mag mile

Moving is the pits.

I have mentioned before that I am a border-line hoarder and nothing is so true as when it comes to my magazines.

I know I am not alone

I did a major purge about two years ago, the likes of which I dare not confess here.  Not to spare you minimalist who might scoff at my keeping years (decades!) of shelter magazines- but for those like myself, and the sinking pit in their...your... stomachs when they/you learn of the hundreds I threw away in a fit of panicked purging.

Though, before ditching all of my beloved glossies to make room for baby (hooray!) and selling our place (ugh!), I would sit on the couch and go though them, dozens at a time, ripping out pages I liked and put them in sleeves in a binder.  Sometimes I only pulled a single page.

That being said, I almost squealed with delight (ahem, almost) upon opening a box of Pampers Swaddlers (size 1) to discover my House and Gardens and Dominos.  

I could completely justify keeping these mags as they had both folded, and I knew I might not ever see their wonderful photographs again.

My uber-organized sister-in-law, Vivi, has been helping me unpack.  She was here all last weekend with one of my other sisters-in-law, the chef, who was kind of her organizing sous chef, while my sister watched Pierce.  It takes a village.

Vivi sent a list of things for me to do before she returns this weekend, um, tomorrow!  I have my work cut out for me.   Last night I organized my House and Garden's (on the list), by color (not on the list), on the shelf where they will live, temporarily.

(I don't know why they were so afraid of blue.  And Kelly Green would be nice here.)

I miss you, H&G- and could not resist ordering you again when I saw this post by Jenny from LGN earlier this week.  

Though what she did not clarify was that this was the British version of House and Garden. 

I'll take what I can get, and signed up for a few.

Okay, got to get cracking.  And again...

(I love the 90s)

Xox,

Jenny

Little league

A tiny post for the tiniest little Lego-like building blocks you ever did see.

I came across these today at Galt Toys and was so taken by their minuscule size.

 While not for infants or toddlers, these little guys would be the ideal gift for a crafty friend.

I quite like Easter Island.  I think those little red and blue things are supposed to be tourists...

And lets not leave baby out- Pierce is currently obsessed with his Lego Duplo blocks, btw:

Here.  We, or should I say, I practice my colors and counting during clean up.  Very educational.

And of course Nanoblocks make cute little animals.  Perfect for a city pad and small enough that they won't take up the whole family room floor during assembly...

Read more about them here and check out the different styles on Amazon.

Xoxo,

Jenny

Farmer's delight

This morning Pierce and I walked to the Green City Market in Chicago's Lincoln Park.  I love farmer's markets the way I love Whole Foods: I enjoy seeing and sampling everything but am unsure of what to buy, daunted by the idea of cooking, and usually leave spending three times as much as I had planned with barely enough ingredients to make a salad, let alone a meal.

I need a plan and never have one.

But that hardly keeps me away.  Often there is someone playing music and lots of children running around but with school back in session and the weather turning cool, Pierce was one of the only little ones afoot.  

I couldn't resist these Dahlias for a neighbor who brought me apples and peaches yesterday.  So nice!

I love the smell of fresh eucalyptus.

Pierce and I both went nuts for this arugula pesto and I am actually inspired to make some.  Not so inspired that I actually bought the ingredients- but I will... some day.  Soon-ish.  I think

My mom asked that I pick her up some "healthy" bread.  I bought the healthiest-sounding whole wheat/flax-seed/rye loaf, from Bennison's Bakery.

Pierce loves melon.  I learned all about the French "Savor" Melon when preparing for this photo shoot with my former boss, Alessandra Branca, at her fabulous New York apartment.

See the melons?  Sort of?  

I bought those melons.

I made that happen.

On the loose!

The River Valley Kitchens mushroom booth is not to be missed.  Specifically the Five Cheese Garlic Spread.  Need I say more?

Nor is the Tiny Greens Organic Farm booth.  I used to stop at the market when I would ride my bike to work and would always get a shot of wheat-grass.  Never got used to the saccharine sweetness of it.

With barely enough room for the young lad and a light rain moving in, we strapped in and headed home.

Xoxo,

Jenny

Redress

One of positive things about moving is coming across all of your old things.

Or, I should say, some of your old things.

I bought this darling dress at Anthropologie a few years ago- a beach scene with birds and the blue sky and blocks of orange. It was one of those times when everyone in the changing area told me I had to buy it- completely unsolicited. And trust me, I solicit. 

You know I love Marimekko and I was so happy to find this fun frock at the bottom of a storage bin this past weekend.  The weather has been very warm so last night we went for a long walk and I wore it with my new black patent leather flats, to make it feel less summery.

Anyone who knows me knows I am not a “flats” person.  After years in heels, I feel like I am falling backwards in flats, as Barbie would, dare this trend ever hit Mattel.  

I also get used to seeing people at a certain eye level.  


While I love high heels, I have been forced to accept that they are not always practical with an infant, let alone a toddler.  A low heel, or, even better, wedge, is my ideal daytime shoe but attractive versions are hard to find.  

So I bit the bullet when I saw this shiny black pair at Target about a month ago.  I am a sucker for black patent leather shoes (so durable!) and I figured this could be a good test for running around the Merchandise Mart and the park.  Verdict- iffy.   They were digging into my ankles within steps of my front door.  Not a good sign.  Oh, and a brief scan online suggests I am not the only remorseful buyer.  Perhaps they are a size too small? Perhaps this is what I should expect of fifteen dollar shoes?  Perhaps this is how they all feel- and the pain will go away?  Will have to consult my friend with a serious black-pat-flat fetish who swears by these pricey little slips of cinched shiny leather.  

33 pairs of my new flats = 1 pair of Lanvin's, available here.  

I don't dare question their value. 

I was in New York a few years ago in a cab heading down Park Avenue when a woman pulled up along side me wearing my same dress, with the sashes tied smartly like an obi, in aviator glasses with her hair pulled loosely back, riding an orange Vespa.

It was perfection. 

And like that she zoomed off, disappearing into the cars ahead of us.

Xox,

Jenny

Sunny side up

This morning kicks off the first Monday in our new apartment- yay!

To celebrate this momentous occasion, and for lack of breakfast appropriate foodstuffs and coffee, Pierce and I decided to stroll down the street to the 3rd Coast for breakfast.

This restaurant has a very special place in my heart- when I was commuting to this neighborhood from our old apartment for work I would stop in here daily for my extra foamy lattes.  Not only were they cheaper than you know who, but there was never any line.  And after about a week I realized that I could call in my order.  Yes.  It was waiting for me in all of its frothy glory- perfect for the perpetually rushed moi.

And I love a good diner. 

This is a new thing for me.  I was always a cereal girl and nothing was more disappointing to me than the "breakfast for dinner'' themed nights they would occasionally have in the cafeteria during college.

I believe pancakes and bacon should only be served between the hours of 12am-12pm.

(I do love my midnight breakfasts.)

Last winter Jack and I started our own diner tour of Chicago, when Pierce was finally on solid foods.  While he was barely big enough to sit in the highchair, we quickly discovered that this was the perfect family dining adventure and soon enough my sister was in on the tour.  Every Sunday morning we went to a new diner, many of which I had passed countless times, and would rate them on food, service and decor, of course. I always order the same thing- egg white omelet with onions, broccoli, mushrooms and feta.  This was a controlled study.

(Our tour was born from my burning desire to try out this cheerful little place between our old apartment and the grocery store)

No notes were ever kept, just a fleeting memory that I now recall when passing said establishment: "smelled funny", "good food/bad service", "Pierce made an exceptional mess", and the like.

We have been to the 3rd Coast before and will surely be back.  They always feature a different local artist and it is where I discovered photographer Ana Miyares during my call-in-latte days, and my friend Josh Moulton's work was featured there.

I am so excited about our new neighborhood, and the many new diners that await us!

Xoxo,

Jenny

Something fishy

Image via Pinterest

Just in time for fall...

So after a busy day of work and preparing for the move, Pierce and I went out to run errands and found ourselves in the neighborhood affectionately known as Boys Town.  It was around dinnertime and I decided we should try someplace new as chances are we won't be visiting the 'hood often once we move.

I was considering an Indian restaurant I have walked by only a million times even though it sounded a tad risky with Pierce's 18 month old palate.  And messy, in a sauce-y sort of way.  Then I came upon this little storefront.

Rollapalooza- love the local shout out.  And the swanky ride.  That reminds me- it's BYO, in case you didn't notice...  Hours and menu here.

Sushi?  Messy, sure, (isn't everything?) but in a sticky sort of way.  I will take white rice in the hair over curry any day of the week.  So we entered in... 

My love affair with sushi began some time in high school and then really took off in college.  One summer I had an internship in Chicago and took the train downtown, from the suburbs.  It was 1999.  Every evening my mom would pick me up from the train station and we would call our local sushi restaurant on her car phone.  

(I will always love you most.)

By the time we made it across town to pick it up, the sushi would be ready, and then we would cross the street so my mom could pick up her dinner:

It is all about the portion control.  And the nuggets.

To say my mother is not a sushi fan is an understatement.  She finds the stuff repulsive, and would say so, inevitably, every night, just as I would complain that I had, once again, ordered too much and felt slightly sick.

Our little ritual.

Pierce is turning out to be quite the little sushi-lover himself.  He stuck mostly to the veggie roll, seaweed salad and this delicious black rice they had:

I am wary of sushi rolled in brown rice after it has ruined one too many rolls.  This black rice, though, was sticky and sweet and a little harder than white rice but I think it would taste great on a roll.

I did give Pierce a piece of salmon but it ended up on the floor, like most of his meal.  Oh, and he loved the oshinko.  Who knew?

To top off the meal I ordered a a piece of Mochi for us to share.  

Please tell me you have tried Mochi and if you haven't, please click here to find where you can get some.  I like Mango the best but these adorable little rice covered balls of frozen sweetness are good in any flavor, though my mother might disagree...

I am telling you, people, portion control.

Xox,

Jenny

Southbound

Please forgive my spotty posting- you know I like things busy but this past week+ has been one for the books and I don't see it slowing down any time soon because... we are moving.

I have held out on sharing this- wanted to wait until everything was signed, sealed and delivered--and wary of blogosphere karma-- but our place is under contract.

Not "sold"-- let's not start popping the Moët quite yet-- but "under contract".

I am a realist and a decorator- hope for the best, expect the worst- or something like that.

Fingers crossed (and maybe a quiet little rah rah fist pump!)

And speaking of decorating- the buyers saw our place before it was staged.  So my ego is back in tact-- at least what is left of it.

We close, hopefully, in a week and a half and are moving on Friday to an apartment in the Near North neighborhood of Chicago, not to be mistaken with the far North (mid North?), or Lakeview, where we live currently (don't be fooled- I see no lake).

Our new neighborhood is also called the Gold Coast but that sounds a bit flashy, no?  Have you read this wonderful book?  The title is not referring to Chicago's Gold Coast, mind you, but Long Island's- now that sounds fancy.

I read Dante's Inferno in college.  I loved it and actually read every word of the book but cannot, for the life of me, remember which level of hell "moving" fell into.  I can guarantee it was pretty close to the center core of the burning afterlife- mostly because there are so many levels of said hell within a move itself.

But we all know that.  

So please bear with me for the next week or so- I will continue posting as I can but may be *gasp* without Internet for a few days here and there.

And might be a tad busy packing... or unpacking.  

Or procrastinating, as I am now.

Xox,

Jenny

Coiffed

Yesterday I was flipping through the stack of catalogues when I came across these images on the back pages of Anthro's:

I usually start somewhere in the middle with catalogues and magazines- or maybe back to front- never the other way around. I don't know. Keeps 'em guessing- or, er- keeps me guessing that maybe I have missed something for later. But I am getting distracted. Can we talk about the hair?

I love this look and it reminds me of how I wore my hair off and on for years (though not parted in the center).  While our model's, here, might be a tad horn-like, the style is soft and old fashioned and keeps the hair out her face without a more severe slick-back.

Let me digress...

Growing up I always wanted an older brother, but having a younger one had its perks.

There was a constant stream of men- no, boys.. males... coming in and out of our house and they were fun to talk to and not the least bit intimidating.  Of course not.  I had seniority--and happily, the affection was mutual.

I remember, though, that fateful time when I returned home from being away at school, when my bro and co had started at our local high school.  I heard laughter coming from the basement and swept down the stairs to see my boys.

They barely acknowledged my entrance.  Taller, hairier, and dressed like gangster lumberjacks, my fresh-faced fans had been replaced by these scruffy neanderthals.  Am I being dramatic?  Perhaps.  Or maybe it was just the contrast in their appearance to these ethereal, porcelain-skinned creatures doting on them in the shortest shorts I had ever seen.  

One wide eyed blond approached me and introduced herself.  I soon learned that she was dating my brother.  She wore her shiny golden locks pulled back loosely in a handful of these little butterfly clips:

 It looked so feminine and pretty I picked up my own clips the next time I was in town.  I think I started with butterflies but quickly moved to the more neutral clips below: 

These clips that hold orchids in place work well too, in a pinch:

I still have some, somewhere, I am sure, but have taken to wearing my sunglasses on my head to keep my hair back.  Like my watch, I feel naked without them.  You know I love me my Jackie O's but this has to stop- especially with the winter months approaching.

So I just bought a new batch of clips, here, and here (some sizes work better than others).  My hair is pretty long right now and I think this will be a nice change for fall... inspired by Miss Anthropologie, and those girls that stole away my boys' attention.

Xox,

Jenny