Parties and joy

The Columbia Museum of Art

After plenty of confusion about whether or not Mr. M was going to be able to join me yesterday evening (new business + new client= mind boggling hours), he was able to break away and accompany me to a cocktail party.  I was so happy that he was able to carve a couple of hours out, even if we did have to take two cars.  Work on the new version of the blog, activities with Jr. (who, just after I purchased a 126 pack of diapers announced that he was ready to use the potty), and other surprises had pushed a lot of things out of my day.  As a result, I didn't post anything here and I never made it to VanJean to pick up the dress I meant to wear last night.

Going to the party on Mr. M's arm certainly made up for the day's muck-ups.  It was a cocktail party for supporters of the Columbia Museum of Art that was at the home of a local writer and professor.  I believe that her backyard may be one of the most serene places in Columbia.  The green of the gardens surrounding the pool immediately relaxed our shoulders, and the view of the lake had people staring out instead of at each other during many conversations.  It was absolutely beautiful!  All pools should overlook a body of water, I think.

Once Mr. M and I parted ways so that he could get back to work, I came home to do a little light reading with the tv on in the background.  At one point a looked up to find Michael J. Fox touring Bhoutan and learning about their government department dedicated to Gross National Happiness.  The head of the department stated that joy is a part of citizenship.  Don't you agree?  We don't put forth our best without joy in our lives, do we?  People these days aren't engaging in enough physical activity, the arts, or just plain undirected joy.  Maybe we need to take a page from Bhoutan's book!

Happy weekend, everyone!  Find your joy this weekend!

Soirèe du Soleil is a wrap!

Oh gosh!  I've gotten Twitters and emails from some of you asking about last night's Soirèe du Soleil at the Columbia Museum of Art.  It was fantastic.  A huge hats off to Meagan Warren and the gala committee for putting together one of the best parties Columbia has seen in a long while.  We raised some serious cash for the museum and had close to 900 attendees.  Not to be indelicate, but 900 people in a medium-sized city at a minimum of $150 per person during a recession isn't something to sneeze at!  The food was delightful, the company grand, entertainment delectable, and of course, shenanigans ensued.  Honestly, if you are going to have an absinthe bar you have to expect some shenanigans!  See the slideshow below for a summary.  Just so you know, my knit "beret" wasn't just a fashion statement... I was having poufy issues with my hair!

One of the many highlights of the night was meeting a friend of The Shop Tart's, who you will hopefully see mentioned here in the near future.  She is a fantastic hostess who is rumored to have one of the best hummus recipes around.  I'm looking forward to our next chat.  Maybe I can talk her into a video for Camille Maurice!

Look out for some food and flowers on the blog this week now that my energy can be a little more evenly dispersed!

The unplanned plan

Do you know those weekends when nothing goes as planned, and it could generally be considered a disaster?  I had one of those, except I think I would consider it a success!

To start off, my pink paradise patio plan inspired by Bloomacious.com and DIFFA 

kind of went phhhhhhhhfffffffttttt and died.  Being the anal retentive/ADD/organizational nightmare that I tend to be, I couldn't find anything remotely close to the fabric that I had envisioned, and it was entirely too late to order any.  What did I gain from running around town? A beautiful Gerbera daisy plant that brightened up the patio table all on it's own. 

My friend J. from New England breezed briefly into town, and since she was coming over I invited another good friend

 from high school and another who is starting a really interesting career blog.  You law librarians will want to check it out when it goes live.  I'll give a shout out when she's ready!

I did not serve the beloved Principessa that I was all atwitter over.  I couldn't find that, either.  In a rush because I had spent too much time obsessing over the fabric and Mr. M had a date with the golf course, I hurriedly grabbed a few bottles of La Vielle Ferme Rosé*, some rosé salami, marinated olives (all from World Market).  The fare, with the addition of my personal staple, Fromager Daffinois from The Gourmet Shop, and strawberries with homemade

whipped cream** was wünderbar for a mild day on the patio.  Obviously... we were out there for seven hours!

So, that was "disasterous" event #1... remember we're heading into Easter weekend, here.

We got to Easter Day and I realized that for the first time ever we weren't obligated to run to three sides of the state in one day with a toddler in tow. Yippee!  What's most amazing is that we didn't even realize this fact until we woke up that morning to get ready for my nephew's baptism.  There were no plans for after the baptism.  A holiday was wide open from noon on.  Pigs must have been flying out of windows or something.  Has this ever happened to anyone else?  Well, of course I had to go and ruin it by telling the Dr. and Mrs. and my brother's family that they should come by.  I mean, who passes on an opportunity to do nothing on a holiday?  And what's more, who passes on it and it magically turns into the perfect day?  Seriously.  Jr. napped for 3 hours. I worked in the pitiful plot of dirt that is calling itself a garden. My parents showed up bearing wine and champagne.  My brother and his family arrived bearing more wine and food.  Mr. M disappeared for a while and materialized with burgers for the grill.  Untraditional, yes, but quite possibly one of the best Easter gatherings ever.  Men and boys playing basketball on a Little Tykes goal, a toddler running around with a pinwheel, mothers and daughters and sisters-in-law relaxing in the sun.  I may never plan another holiday again! Yeah right, whoever bets on that one needs some serious help.

*This is a great rosé for under $10.  It'll be making some repeat appearances on our patio this spring and summer.

**Homemade whipped cream?  Yes.  I think that purchasing whipped cream is a waste of money when most of us have the necessary ingredients already.  Just take 2 cups of heavy whipping cream, add 1/4 cup of sugar, and a tablespoon of good vanilla (I actually really like the Earth Fare brand) and beat it with a whisk until it starts to peak.  You can do this with a handheld mixer, a whisk, or a stand alone mixer.  It's all good.

The frost is driving me out

Oh crap.  As you can see by the picture, I have a little garden problem.  Apparently the South Carolina climate forgot to look at the calendar last night and the temperature dropped down into the low 30s.  That's actually one of the better looking flowers.  This is NOT what I pictured when I started planning this weekend's get-together.  Mr. M is suggesting replanting tomorrow.  ***SIGH***

I think I'd rather go out with some girlfriends tonight and not think about it.  Mr. M can babysit.  He likes to dress Jr. in his jammies and then they eat cookies and "look at dancing girls."  Usually that means watching Abby Cadabby on DVD (Jr. is completely obsessed with "Abby Gabby").  A couple of times it has meant getting dressed up and going to one of Mr. M's tweenybopper cousin's dance recitals.  Probably no big game of hide-and-seek tonight as Jr. and I spent the majority of the morning on that one... mostly with Jr. hiding and me seeking while putting away laundry.

I'm sure as I'm writing this at 3:07pm I will be hard pressed to find someone to meet me out.  Most of my mommy friends are at the beach this week a lot of others are coming up on the end of their fiscal years (nonprofits).  I'm sure there's someone out there who can meet up for an hour or so, though.  The last time I called up some girlfriends to go out at the last minute I ended up with two of my oldest friends, who are both single.  After dinner we went to a local bar for some drinks, and two guys meandered over to chat after seeing the two single girls.  A few minutes into the conversation, I decided to ask a question.

Me: So, what do y'all do?

Guy #1: Uh, we play football.

That should have been our first cue, but we went on.

Girlfriend #1: Oh really?  

Girlfriend #2 (leaning in): What position do you play?

Guy #2: Right now I'm a half back on the books, but I've been on the bench.  But Coach says he's gonna put me in next fall.

You know that tingly feeling like someone is pressing a bunch of little pins inside your nose?  Suddenly I had that feeling.  Because in an attempt to keep from spitting out my cocktail I inadvertently snorted it up into my left nostril as I realized that these were not NFL players visiting from Charlotte.  The thing that is the most fascinating is that I, the out-of-practice old married  lady, was the first to figure this out.  My two friends kept the conversation going for about 30 more seconds before thinking to ask for the ages of their suitors.  Even with me perched next to them with tears rolling down my face, not really stifling my laughter.  Once the college dudes realized our age, they hightailed it out of there.  Old ladies (at least we were to them) are no fun, huh?

We'll see.  I should probably get out there and work on the frost ravaged garden so I won't be scrambling on Saturday!

Some wine with my coffee

Um.... I think I've finally become a wino.

I love wine.  I'm not a complete wine snob like some people I know and love.  I don't go to a restaurant and spend fifteen minutes studying the wine list as if it were an instruction manual, then quiz the sommelier about the region, aroma, and palette of each wine.  I don't walk into my favorite wine store with a to do list, either.

There is a Wine Styles around the corner from my house, however.  Robert, the store owner, knows pretty much everything that has gone on in my life for the past couple of years.  If I have to dart in there during the day when running errands with Jr. to pick up wine for a last minute dinner, Jr. immediately calls out "Sucker!", because he knows that there may be a treat behind the counter for him.  I thought that this was the extent of the fallout from my affinity for wine.

Then came this morning.  We were leaving church and we stopped by Earth Fare to pick up a pie after determining that I would not have any time to prepare anything for the in-law's family reunion.  Mr. M came out with the pie, a cookie, and a large coffee for us to share, which made my morning.  We drove on towards East Stix towards the reunion, talking about the upcoming week, when suddenly a few drops of coffee mysteriously exited the cup and dolloped themselves onto the armrest.  

Mr. M shot me an incredulous look, "Did you just swirl your coffee?"

"What? No!  You must have hit a bump or something," I muttered.

"No, I saw you.  You were all 'blah blah la la la hee hee hee,' and you swirled your coffee!"

I wasn't about to verbally admit it, but he was right.  I couldn't believe it.  I had started to run my mouth like a water tap and got lost in the moment.  Somehow, subconciously, I thought I was sitting at my favorite restaurant with him on a date rather than in the car at 11:30am with Jr. in the back seat.  Somehow, my arm muscles mistook that the coffee cup for a glass of Pinot Noir that needed some oxygen swished into it to push some extra flavor out.

Would this be considered a new low?  Or did the wiring in my brain just suffer a misfire and the joy of the moment triggered the wrong muscle to move?  I'm not sure, but I may keep a lid on my coffee for the next few days just in case.

Reading the WSJ-- they're wearing mittens in hell

With my political leanings being left to left-of-center, I've always considered the Wall Street Journal to be a cesspool of uptight propaganda.  To be perfectly honest, I don't quite remember when or how I formed this opinion, but yesterday when I discovered that Mr. M had subscribed to the dreaded publication, I was aghast.  

"What the hell is that doing in my house?" I growled at him from across the patio table.  The nerve.  I had just made him a fabulous lunch and we were taking a break from our respective projects while Jr. was napping.  How could he disrupt our sunny quiet time with such trash?

"It's a better source for keeping up with what's happening in the market," he said dismissively.

I huffed and continued reading my issue of Martha Stewart Living for a few minutes before realizing that I had already been through most of the articles.  I had a real dilemma.  I was sitting on my patio, feet propped up, on a gorgeous 75 degree day (yes, in March).  School hadn't let out yet, so the only sounds were those of the yard.  The birds calling to each other, the wind tickling the neighbors trees... we don't have trees anymore.  Two years ago my Japanese maple died suddenly and then the rest of our trees had followed suit by the end of the season.  Anyway, it was a perfect scene from which I was loathe to move.  

I sighed and picked up the WSJ that was leering at me from the table.  I opened it, and the first article I saw was an opinion piece (Oh no, what horrible things was this person going to say?) entitled, "Obama is Free Trade's Best Hope."  Wait a minute, what?  I shut the paper and looked at the masthead.  Yes, this was the Wall Street Journal.  I opened it again and started reading.  Whether or not you are a fan of free trade, this was a fantastic piece.  Well thought out, well written, extremely well argued.  You should read it.  Yes, that's what I said!  

Later that evening, I was sitting in front of my computer trying to think of a topic to write about.  I found myself (as Hell was starting to get a bit of a frost) on the newspaper's website.  I almost fell on the floor when I found an article from a couple if days ago entitled, "The Big Interview: Being Bernard Arnault: How do  you predict global good taste in a time of economic downturn?"  After reading the article and then launching a full-on assault on my keyboard as I brainstormed my next project, I realized I had a problem.  I've spent years bashing WSJ.  Years.  Now I'm going to have to take at least some of it back!  While I don't have any plans to hop on over to the other side of the party line, I may be inspired to buy a briefcase or something.  At least this will become a daily read.