FIESTA, or, What's life wiithout new plates?

Showing off our finds. The persimmon cup is a replacement for Sarah Smith, who will be sad to find out her color is retired.

You'll be glad you have a library card--check me out.

Victory is ours.

Bill dutifully hauls plates and considers servingware.

Happiness.

I have a plate problem. I love dishware. I don't know what my thing is about it--meaning, is it the way it looks so organized in the cupboard? Is it the way it makes my food look? Is it the way it looks on the table? I just love new plates, coordinated, neat. I have several sets of dishes: the official Christmas set, Royal Holiday (Pfaltzgraff), Longaberger mix and match plates (only in sage, paprika, or butternut), daytime "winter" plates (also Longaberger), plain ivory china with a beading pattern (I think it was called Manhattan), and Farmer's Market (also Pfaltzgraff, but discontinued). I'm not saying I always aspired to Fiesta, although I love it and admire it at other people's houses. SSS has it in persimmon, my mother has it in shamrock and tangerine, and Pat G. has it in scarlet, tangerine, shamrock and cobalt. Oh, sunshine, too. Well, count me in. We braved the fierce wilderness of East Liverpool and traversed the mighty Ohio to get into Newell, West Virginia, to the Homer Laughlin factory and second-hand room. Holy God. Yes, you have to rummage. Yes, you start to think you need every single piece you see. Yes, you wish you had brought your own hand truck and another warm body to carry stuff. Such a fun trip, and so much fun with fun people. Same time, next year.

Just Helen at Presti's, or, COOKIES.

It's very rare that just one child gets to go with me anywhere and even rarer that it's Helen. So constant and easy, which makes it hard to remember that she is just in need of individual attention. I took her to Presti's to get bread and pastries and treated her to her own cookie and chocolate milk, no sharing with sisters. She dutifully ate half the cookie, took a few sips of milk, and then stood in awe in front of the pastry case. This kid knows a good thing when she sees it.

The Randy Kaplan Show, or, This House is Too Nice For Us

Ellie appropriately attired for the rock and roll crowd.

Yes, those chairs are leather. Yes, Emma is smearing frosting on them.

Emma is not that tall. Yes, she is jumping on that couch. With Tanqueray glimmering in the background.

Relaxing in front of the bajillion dollar TV.

Is this a living room or an atrium? Oh wait. Both.

My dear friend Samantha invited us to a children's show at her friend Steve's place in Pepper Pike. The artist is Randy Kaplan, who is increasingly well-known in the hipster kid's music crowd (sort of like our own Justy Justin, Justin Roberts, or Brady Rymer, or Farmer Jason, or the ubiquitous Laurie Berkner). Anyway, Steve has a nice house--really, really nice--and his kids are older and apparently able to keep the house in pristine condition. The girls lasted just over an hour before Emma started with, I need yogurt! I need hummus! And we had to bolt. However, there was spontaneous dancing, and quite a bit of interest in Randy's guitar. What a terrific morning.

This is a real person, not a "troop."

This is my brother in law Matt, who is clearly not where he should be, which is in his house with his wife and dogs. He is also Ellie's godfather. He could be wherever he is for half a year or more.

I don't know how George Bush sleeps at night.

Halloween, or, Look at that get-up

Helen is really, really into crowns. That's what she's looking at here--my borrowed Cinderella crown. My next post will explain why. Nothing can explain my blue, blue eyeshadow.

By this time, at Smiths, Ellie was a little Halloweened out.

But she was still rocking the Liberace costume.

Here, Helen has just realized that people are Giving. Us. Candy. OH MY GOSH.

Emma here has just heard the word "cupcake."

The kids went as Liberace (Ellie), Swedish Chef (Helen), Beaker (Emma). Their candy is currently hidden. I think they had fun--they asked to go trick or treating the next night. Why is it only once a year? Well, it wouldn't be so darn spectacular if it were common.