birds of a feather

It's time for a new project. This afternoon Alex took both kids on a playdate, so I was given the gift of two uninterrupted hours of silence. During that time, as I was reading on my bed, I realized (simultaneously) that I need a headboard and a new project. I haven't decorated the apartment because I don't want to deal with repairing tiny holes and repainting walls before our lease is up, so I've been going a little stir crazy on the home front. Maybe my mood is a reflection of my new stay-at-home status, but either way it's time to create something with this amazing Josef Frank fabric that has been folded in my closet for over a year. I found an unbelievable deal on two remnants on eBay and purchased them with the intention of using it to cover a DIY headboard. 

The idea came from an article I saw in Metropolitan Home years ago, and I think it's finally time to tackle the project. We--and I say "we" because my assistant Alex is getting roped into this whether he likes it or not--have very little room for error on this one. The total length of fabric we have is about 2 1/2 inches longer than what we need for a headboard the width of our king bed. Basically I'm expecting some serious tugging and pulling and maybe a couple expletives about someone's stapling gun technique (I'm just saying...).

By bringing the fabric out of the closet and measuring it, I've already completed Step 1. Tomorrow I will venture out to Michael's for some sort of fabric adhesive (to attach the two remnants) and batting. Then I'll have my assistant drive me to Home Depot when he returns on Sunday for a gigantic piece of plywood that will become our headboard. Stay tuned, and wish me--I mean us--luck!

furry ghosts

It rained today. As I watched giant drops of happiness splash off of my ghost chairs, which are temporarily serving as balcony seating, I remembered my idea from the past about how to decorate my dining room in the future. Ghost chair + sheepskin throw = cozy and chic dining for the family. Unfortunately I can't take credit for the idea, but I do know a great source for an inexpensive sheepskin (hello IKEA!). Here's a look at the dining room of fellow Texan Judy Aldridge, where I fell in love with this juxtaposition of textures:

Images from CasaSugar

And while I'm on the subject of sheepskin, here are two other ideas that I found too cute and cozy to resist:

apartment therapy

The Second Rvivl

the most wonderful time of the year

Switching from daylight saving time back to standard time is a bit of a hoax for those of us with young children. That "extra hour of sleep" is a complete farce. The only extra hour you get is entertaining the kids when they wake up at 5:30am. However, having the sun set an hour earlier reminds me that we're in the throws of the holiday season. And who doesn't love a good holiday season? These are the indicators that Christmas is right around the corner: today I saw my first Starbucks holiday cup and my first Christmas commercial; the Central Market is decorated in wreaths and garland and the Target is stocked with red and green M&M's. I feel like I hardly had time to enjoy the pumpkin spice latte before it's time to move on to gingerbread, but 'tis the season.

lock in

This morning it was 39 degrees in Austin (no joke!) so I decided to postpone our walk around the lake until this afternoon when we were expecting a high of 70. The weather could not have been better, and a 3:00pm walk is always great for killing time with toddlers. I'll skip over the walk itself and go straight to the good part of the story...

Getting everyone back in the car after our walk is always an ordeal, and today was no different. I secured Scout in her seat and, with Catcher by my side, packed the stroller in the back. I closed the rear door to our Explorer, and the moment it shut I heard a distinct "click." Scout had just locked herself in the car. Yes. I let my 15 month-old daughter hold the keys because she was fussy and cranky and screaming for them as I was struggling to get her to sit down in her car seat. My first thought was "Seriously?" followed quickly by "What now?" My phone was in the car, of course, so Catcher and I jogged over to a nice-looking gentleman who was stretching his legs a few cars away and asked him if he had a cell phone I could borrow. I explained my situation, so he called 311--supposedly they'll send someone out to unlock your car in such circumstances--and he walked back to the car with us as he told the operator our story. I peered in the window where Scout was sitting, and she looked out at me: smiling; keys in hand. For a second I tried a ridiculous sign language move to tell her to press the "unlock" button, but that didn't work (surprise!). At this point the gentleman told me they would have to send the police out to break into my car. Whatever. At least I didn't have to throw a brick through the windshield (and at least it wasn't 111 degrees).

Then Scout pressed the panic button on the car. The horn began blaring and Catcher asked me why Scout did that. I looked in at Scout and she was laughing and waving the keys. When Catcher was just a day old and still in the hospital, I remember a funny cross-eyed look he gave me with his hands up to his mouth indicating he was hungry. I'll never forget that look, and now I have a look from Scout that I, too, will remember forever--those mischievous eyes! Throwing my hands up in exhaustion and wondering when the police would get there--and whether or not they would destroy the lock on my car and how much that was going to cost me--I moved around to the back of the Explorer and "pop:" Scout had pressed the blue button that opens the upper half of the "trunk." Six months pregnant, I wiggled through and grabbed the keys out of Scout's hand in a thrill of victory. I signaled to my helper (who had to walk away to be heard on the phone over the blaring horn) that I had the keys and everything was cool, and I quickly strapped Catcher in his seat with the keys clenched in my fist. How's that for an exciting five minutes?

On the drive home Catcher told me that Scout can't hold the keys anymore but he can because he won't lock the door...I think I'll be holding onto them myself for a while.

coffee on congress

This morning before taking Alex to the airport, our family took advantage of the quintessential fall morning over coffee and breakfast tacos at Jo's on South Congress. Catcher and Scout got to pet a dog while Alex and I enjoyed the bright sunshine and cool breeze. The chill atmosphere, city scenery and perfect weather reminded us of why we moved to Austin in the first place.

The breakfast tacos were pretty great, too.

monster cookie

I've been baking the same chocolate chip cookies--Nestle Toll House recipe--since I was 14 years old. Although I've evolved the recipe slightly over the years by using Kosher salt and two teaspoons of vanilla instead of one (there's my secret) I decided it was time to try something else. Last week I came across a recipe from the new book by Momofuku Milk Bar, the cornflake chocolate chip marshmallow cookie, and I thought this could be the cookie to take me through the next twenty years.

My sous chef, Catcher, doesn't like chocolate, so we had to substitute peanut butter for chocolate chips. After two days and two trips to the grocery store for the right ingredients--what is milk powder and how is parchment paper different from wax paper?--we were finally ready to embark on our mission to create our new favorite cookie.

Not to spoil the surprise, but sometimes you should stick with what you know.

The first batch: oops...a little well done. They were immediately wrapped up in the parchment paper on which they were baked and dumped in the trash can.

The second batch: slightly better looking than the first.

Here's a look at the final product, but what what you can't tell from the picture, of course, is that they look better than they taste (which really isn't saying much). When Catcher gave the rest of his cookie to Scout after only two bites, I knew something was up. I tasted the reject and understood his lack of enthusiasm regarding the cookies that took three hours to make. They are too crisp and too sweet. The marshmallow seems over-melted and the butter is a bit overwhelming. Of course I take full ownership of the snafu and do not blame the recipe, but who's going to eat these 11 giant cookies?

halloween, part II: block party crashers

The Wheats are back! One thing that Alex and I enjoy doing--it's kind of our thing--is going to events or parties where there is free food and free alcohol being served. In some circles this type of behavior could be considered creepy, but Alex has that personable, funny guy Vince Vaughn thing about him, and we don't take ourselves too seriously. We haven't crashed a wedding (yet), but we've weaseled our way into charity events, a going away party, store openings, wine tastings, launch parties, and now we have a block party to add to our resume.

After Catcher's Mach 5 meltdown on the front porch last year, I was ready to write off Halloween until the kids were out of the trick-or-treating stage. But yesterday turned out to be the best Halloween since 2002 (which, if you didn't know, is when Alex and I met). We decided to take the kids to our friends' neighborhood since the candy there would be more reliable than anything you might find in our apartment complex. Although we had no intentions of meeting up with our friends, we ended up running into them--and subsequently crashing their block party--and sealed the deal on the second-best Halloween ever (wink!).

Catcher as the surfer guy--who was quickly dubbed Spicoli--followed by Scout the shark on their way to an exciting night in Pemberton Heights. Spooky!

Smile for the camera! Catcher was more interested in "hitting" his first house than posing for pictures once he saw other kids running wild with sacks of candy.

A quick family shot outside of the first home we visited (the people are so nice here!). Noticeably absent from the picture is Catcher, who thought that we were supposed to go into people's houses after taking their candy. He got an extra piece of candy instead. The mom of the house thought he was a girl.

Scout chilling in the street: she was more interested in rolling around on the ground than going after candy. Occasionally she would roar at the other trick-or-treaters, and a ten year-old girl told me she "liked my shark."

Catcher quickly got the hang of things and began skipping around shouting, "Let's go to the next house! Let's go to the next house!"

The highlight of the night was a giant bouncy-house-slide-thing in someone's front yard: block party bliss. Not pictured are the free beers that Alex happily accepted, the pizza and cookies that Catcher enjoyed and the other neighborhood festivities that added up to way more fun than a fire truck in Chantilly.