Spooky Harry Potter Party

With special appearances by:

Harry himself...

Luna Lovegood...

...and Colin Creevy.

I think one of the funnest things about watching your kids learn to read is forcing your favorite childhood books on them. And even though Harry Potter was published when I was an adult, I still felt it was worth pushing on the kidlets, even if it was against their will. I knew they'd thank me later. Isaac just recently finished the second book for the first time, so we decided to have a Harry Potter party the night before Halloween.

We ate cockroach clusters, pumpkin pasties, Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, licorice wands, and butterbeer. The butterbeer was awesome (well, I didn't have any, but it certainly looked awesome). The recipe starts out with a spiced ice cream concoction whipped with brown sugar and butter.

Then you pour hot apple cider over the top. The result is foamy and lovely-smelling.

The kids gobbled it up and then we watched The Chamber of Secrets together.

(Isaac's first viewing...our family rule is you get to watch the movie once you've read the book.)

Happy Halloween!

Pumpkin Carving

Singing at Joy School

Curtain Quest for the Style-Impaired

Not so long ago, I saw that one of my "friends" on Facebook answered some questions about me on a quiz put together in game format. It showed up on my Facebook page like this: "One of your friends has answered some questions about you. Click HERE to see how they answered them." So I clicked on it. One of the questions asked if I were trustworthy and the "friend" answered yes. Another asked if they thought I would ever go skinnydipping. The "friend" selected no. Another asked if I liked brownies, and so forth went the questions and answers. Until the last question which was, "Do you think Jennifer has any style?" The "friend" answered to that one...NO!

I was completely embarrassed and shocked by that. I couldn't even see which "friend" had answered the question. It was anonymous, which was annoying.

The thing is, I already know I don't have style. I know it, oh boy, do I ever. I've never wanted to be "stylish" or trendsetting. My entire style goal is for no one to notice my lack of style. I guess I failed.

Apparently my lack of style is not limited to merely dressing myself, either.

We moved into a new home. It didn't have any window treatments (I didn't even know what a window "treatment" was until just recently. Why don't people say "drapes" anymore?) We needed privacy. I found curtains on sale. I liked them. I bought them. Steve hung them up. I thought they looked fine. My sister asked for pictures of the house and when she saw the curtains (hanging 8 inches from the floor) she FREAKED out. Did you know window panels (another new term I had to learn) must hang all the way to the floor? I did NOT know that. And I must be the only one because after that I paid special attention to other people's curtains and pictures in magazines and--sure enough--they all hang to the floor.

A friend suggested I find some solid fabric and sew it to the bottom of the white curtains I had purchased. So I did. To all four panels (four panels for two windows that are on either side of our fireplace). Then I made Steve hang them up, but two of the panels were shorter than the others, so I just told him to lower one of the rods a little...no one would notice, right? I mean, I wouldn't. (Well...I wouldn't because I am style-impaired.) Steve obeyed my orders, but he thought they looked a little fishy, and, boy, that just wasn't a good sign if Steve thought they looked amiss. So I took another picture and sent it to my sister and when she called me back, she said, "Do you want the truth or do you want me to tell you I like them?"

So then she had me pick out a fabric I liked online and we ordered a bunch and she quick sewed me up four very even panels and shipped them to me and this is the final product. Do you know? I'm smitten with them.

Steve, rehanging. What a patient guy!
The fabric up close:
It must be said...I think the pictures don't do these curtains justice. I was very frustrated that my camera couldn't quite capture the charm of them. But you get the idea:

They also match my favorite pictures hanging in my kitchen (French advertisements for a chocolate shop), and also you get to see Laura last-minute practicing before school for her flute lesson. :)

Now I just need to find some curtains for my dining room. I might wait until next year, when I have recovered from the whole family-room-curtain-debacle-of-2010.

Best buds.

Steve grew in Noelle's estimation this week when he put on an apron and starting cooking. "Caillou's daddy can cook, too!" She said.

He's also not above crowding into a pink tent. That's true love.

Gluten-free macaroons.

Foolish, foolish, foolish. I knew if I tried this recipe, it would mean trouble. Luckily I've only eaten three so far (not including the cup-full of "batter" I ate while mixing it up). Now I am going to go do all the things I was supposed to do in the first place instead of making these and hopefully there'll be a couple left for Steve when he gets home from work.

Chicago

This year's oral surgery conference was in the Windy city. Luckily, it was only windy one day we were there. Here's a picture of our hotel room:

View from our window:

City view from Navy Pier:

Ferris wheel. This is as close as I get to one. Once a few years ago, Steve MADE me go on a ferris wheel with him--the big one at Lagoon that is like three times as high (maybe more) than a regular ferris wheel and we had the kids with us and when we got to the top, the ferris wheel paused, and Steve wanted to let the kids spin the cup around, and I totally freaked out and told everyone to stop breathing, and I MEANT it because I am SO scared of heights, and Steve has never made me go on a ferris wheel ever since.

Steve thought this sign was hilarious. I thought the sign should have an age limit, like maybe no one under 18 should be allowed to climb it, because adults should be able to judge whether or not they would be safe climbing the noodle on their own, don't you think? I mean, I might start climbing it and half way up, think to myself, "Whoa, I'd better stop because if I go any higher, I might fall down." I do that all the time when I go to change the sheets on my boys' bunk beds.

The Lego Store.

Cool Lego hangy things all over the place:

Walking downtown:

The Art Institute of Chicago:

A Rembrant:

A tapestry from the 1500's:

I don't know who painted this, but I liked it:

Yeah, this one is famous, too. It drew quite the crowd. (I think I recognize it from the Cosby show.)

Vincent Van Gogh. Oh yeah...

Toulouse Lautrec:

Toulouse Lautrec, too (I love this one):

Monet:

So.

I cannot accurately describe the joy I experienced while dining in Chicago. This is why. Previous to this trip I have always been poor, poor, poor. Financially. And also I can't eat wheat. Which means I can't eat at restaurants very easily. Especially nice ones. But this time--this time--I went to two different restaurants that BOTH catered to gluten-free diets. This one:

A pasta place. Yes, that's right! Pasta! I could pick any sauce I wanted and they put it on a delicious rice pasta.

Steve had regular pasta.

And I had this masterpiece:

Red pepper sauce with proscuitto, shrimp, chicken and asiago cheese. Holy cow, I NEVER thought I'd eat at a regular Italian restaurant ever again. It was soooo good.

Then later we ate at Fogo De Chao. It was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. The meat was amazing. The creme brulee was amazing. But best of all were these:

The bread they serve at every table. Naturally gluten-free cheese bread. Wonderful popover like balls of hot crispy-on-the-outside-cheesy-melt-in-your-mouth-soft-on-the-inside little delights. I ate six without even realizing it. I returned to the hotel and immediately googled the recipe. They are made with brazilian tapioca flour and cheese.

Okay, more pictures. The obligatory Lake Michigan pictures:

Us (shadow version):

The end.