McSweeney's Open Letters and an ode to Anthropologie.

McSweeney's is one of my very favorite online collection of writers and essays and what have you. Every day I check in for an update on one of the insightful columns, see what's on the lists, read short imagined monologues, or my personal favorite:

"O P E N L E T T E R S
T O P E O P L E O R E N T I T I E S
W H O A R E U N L I K E L Y
T O R E S P O N D ."

Earlier this month- the best letter ever. With pictures courtesy of Anthropologie for emphasis.

"AN OPEN LETTER
TO ANTHROPOLOGIE.

February 25, 2011"

- - - -

"Your little catalogue comes careening into our home every three weeks and suddenly I am dissatisfied with my life. Happiness flies out the window (sans Persian Velvet Curtains). You make me angry with my loving, live-in boyfriend, unhappy with our adorable dogs, and dissatisfied with our sprawling, albeit ramshackle, flat.

Source: anthropologie.com via Christy on Pinterest

You thought you were so clever when you one-upped our spiffy, yet haphazard flea market furnishings with your imported Long Forgotten Coat Rack comprised of grove root, and your Madeline Chair finished with a perfect weathered patina. You considered yourself cooler-than-thou when you took on a minimalist European flair by introducing the Ditte Sofa in ochre linen. "Finishing the crossword never felt so elegant," you said! Because of you, I can't even start a Word Jumble on our once beloved, now just plain natty sectional. You twisted the knife into our unstylish backdoor with yourMedici Doorknob "warmed with an aristocratic Mediterranean pattern." Damn you and your Peacock Toile Switchplates!

Source: anthropologie.com via Krysti on Pinterest

But forget our surroundings—it's true, without the Lady & Her Dog Loveseat in mist twill, the fox terriers have been relegated to a sad little polyester-covered pup bed to rest their, what I bet you would deem, "unstylish furry legs." What pains me, Anthropologie, is that without yourTwo-Timing Sweater (a cardigan and a pullover! Yes, that's right!) I will not be able to "have my cake and eat it, too." Knowing I can't afford your Into-the-Woods-Dress and thus will never be able to stand like your model does at the foot of a glacier, bare armed yet warm, is more than I can live with. It pains me to accept that I could scale mountains in four-inch platform heels if only I had the Lunar Puzzle Mary Janes! I struggle knowing that without your Can-Can Pencil Skirt, complete with "choreographed flounce," life will just never have that je ne sais quos.

Source: anthropologie.com via Sarah on Pinterest

So after months of longing and lamenting, I took action. I knew I shouldn't have done it, but I made a pilgrimage. I braved the train, the crowds, the drizzly weather. I entered your doors and I stood directly in front of yourCooled Lava Dress (Oh, how very cool it was). I visited your Bay-of-Smoke Jacket. (You knew I always wanted to go to the Bay of Smoke!). Standing on your faux-sanded wooden farmhouse floors, amongst your clusters of light bulbs turned avant-garde chandeliers, I realized I've done it all wrong—the liberal arts degree, the MFA, the low-paying publishing jobs, the erratic freelancing and adjunct teaching.

If only I could go back in time and study Anthropologie(quirky spelling and all!). If only I had known that true happiness comes wrapped in a $118 Frefaxi Cowlneckin the color porcelain, and that bliss was founded on boots with "rough-and tumble" cognac leather stacked heels, and that with a Hillside Vista Skirt, "layers of earth and sky" would be mimicked on my own person.

If only I had known, Anthropologie. If only I had known."

— Anna Mantzaris

Disclaimer: Just in case you skimmed, and you missed my shout out to McSweeney's, you should know that this was pulled from their website and that the author was not me.

But really, if you haven't already, you need to be reading this genius publication.

http://www.mcsweeneys.net/archives/index_additional.html

Beauty in the everyday.

Today Trent and I went to our new Whole Foods that just opened up in Trolley Square. The outside is very large and grand, complete with two-story parking garage. It seems very "city" to me, and I kept telling Trent over and over how much it reminded me of Portland. Even the crowd inside seemed too hippie and cool for Utah. The energy was great, and you could feel the new store buzz permeate everything. As I grabbed my two bottles of kombucha, we made a run for a register. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a guy approaching our same register at a similar pace. Instinctively, I sped up and set my things down on the conveyor belt in front of him. He laughed and then said something to the effect of "Wow, you guys were really quick." I looked at him and suddenly embarrassed at my racing him, offered to give him the spot. He turned it down and again commented that we had earned it.

"I guess this is my karma for parking in a handicapped spot", he said.

I laughed, and I said something like "Yeah... that's pretty bad. Anything to keep out of the parking garage, right?"

He soon left for another register and left me feeling like he'd broken some sort of fourth wall and it stuck to me ALL day. It made me realize how little I interact with people other than my boyfriend on any given day in a friendly, non-cash receiving way.

It's time to be more approachable.

New thrifted lamp.

The thrifting Gods are with me. I scored this pearl-shaped lamp base at the thrift store yesterday for $8. Yes, it sort of looks like a bowling pin, but with a nice shade, it'll look very un-thrifted.

The best part about this is that only a few days ago, I was stalking lamp bases on PB teen and decided that Numer one- $70 is outrageous for a lamp base. Number two, I must find something similar.

Source: pbteen.com via Audrey on Pinterest

I can barely believe my incredible luck.

You should have seen the gross shade on top of it when I found it though. I couldn't decide whether to be surprised or unsurprised that it was still there. I can see how someone may not have looked pass the sad shade to see the potential at the base.

Rethink Canada

Source: rethinkcanada.com via Anna on Pinterest

Overstock Nimbus rug.

I love it.

Completely exceeded all expectations. The wool pile is thick and luscious, but not overwhelming in our tiny living room. I ALMOST bought the beige version, but I think it would have been too washed out. The price was reasonable too. At $200, even Ikea's rugs aren't much cheaper. We sold our Mia for $100, so really, it was a mere $100 investment. Overstock is awesome too, free returns and $2.95 shipping. That's insane. It made me feel safe when I bought it.

It's crazy looking at these older photos of the living room. I started off really loving bold color and lots of things to look at, but I've slowly gotten rid of everything. I dress that way too. I've got like, three pairs of boots in rotation and a million white tee-shirts, and ONE pair of jeans. I'm a simple girl, but not easy to please. Quality over quantity. Always.

So long, Mia.

December, January, then February came and went, and no word from our couch lady from the classifieds. I called her a few times, but nothing came of it, so we let our Stockholm go. Despite the letdown, I felt the itch to change it up in our living room. I took down the shelves that were much too big for the space, which eliminated the awkward entrance when coming through the front door. We had more than a couple of shelf bumping instances-- not very practical at all.

As you can see, we got rid of our beloved Mia rug. I posted an ad in the classifieds a week ago, and a really cute, young couple came and picked it up on Monday. It was time for something new, and it it wasn't going to be a new couch, it had to be something else.

A blog I follow, Chezerbey, wrote a post about the Nimbus wool rug from Overstock.com, and they completely sold me. Firstly, I wanted something that would be less of a statement, and more of a mood setter. That meant no big, colorful designs or patterns. Secondly, it needed to be comfortable. I like to sit on the floor and work at the coffee table, and when our guests exceed two people, it's inevitable that someone ends up sitting on the floor. The rug pile of this carpet is apparently EXTREMELY plush and thick, so I'm pretty stoked. Plus, the sage color is going to make the room much more organic feeling with all the browns and beiges and wood.

Here's the before with Ms. Mia and the OLD old shelves.

Lots of color in there.

Now, not so much.

I plan to make a gallery-style art wall here rather than fill it with knick knacks. I'm trying to tone things down a little bit around here and focus more on comfortable living.

Next up, new pillows.

On being small.

It's really surreal and humbling to see natural disasters strike, and it's SO easy to disconnect myself and forget that this is REAL and it's really happening to people while I'm sipping my tea and Internet shopping. It reminds me of how small I am in the world. I'm really grateful there are so many people who are doing so much to reach out right now, and I want to be one of them. My favorite so far is Bloesems post featuring artists who are selling prints to raise money for Japan. They're pretty great, too. Art is a great incentive.

The above print is Marin DSGN

Lesson learned, Topshop.

Risk taking is essential for a life well-lived. That's my opinion. I've taken very risky risks that have ended up making me a better person- like spending thousands of dollars on an education, or moving in with my boyfriend of three months. Other risks, like signing a two-year gym contract under pressure from a pushy asshole salesman and buying from an overseas retailer did not pay off.

I took the leap and bought the PU hooded bomber jacket from Topshop, which, from the price and picture, had me assuming that I would look fantastic in it, and that the quality would be on par with what they were asking for it. I mean, just look at it! Sexy, right?

When it arrived in the mail nearly two weeks later, my gut told me it didn't look good. The mail bag it arrived in was small and light-- never a good sign when you've just spent $110. I tore it open, PRAYING I'd be wrong.

I put it on and my hope died. The material was thin and flimsy, and it was SMALL. It was like, above my belly button small. My boyfriends cheap, $40 Forever 21 faux-leather jacket was nicer than this little thing.

I really don't mean to be negative, but I was NOT expecting this. What's worse-- I had to pay roughly $30 to ship it back to them. That's $15 for the shipping and $13 for the freaking tracking number I was REQUIRED to purchase in order to return it.

I suppose this is simply a lesson in retailers. Online shopping is risky, and I paid the price. I wrote this in the hopes that I could save someone the same financial and mental heartache.

Nutmeg dusted broccoli cheese soup.

I've been making the most of these post winter snow storms by cooking AND eating a lot of calorie-packed comforts foods. The culprit, I swear to God, is Pinterest. It's shameful, but I literally spend HOURS browsing the Internet for the most sinful, delectable-looking meals and pinning them to my Fine Dining pin board where other indulgent female pinners repin and link me into more savory pictorial heaven.

It's an addiction all of its own.

At the very least, I've been keeping good on my promise to cook more at home, and as a result, my pantry has started to fill up with more and more staples like bread flour, parsley, and half and half- things I never dared to buy for fear of the certain guilt for letting it spoil entirely while I sat in the living room eating Panda Express orange chicken or a fat, cheesy bean burrito from Rubios. I have no shame when it comes to my dinner.

With me in this week's confessional? Broccoli cheddar soup with nutmeg. Easily the best recipe I've ever found, on this blog Mangio De Sola.

In my quest to find the perfect recipe, I stumbled upon the most fantastic tumblr ever. Fuckyeahbroccolicheesesoup.com. Filled to the brink with the sexiest pictures of broccoli cheese soup you've ever seen.

Of course, broccoli cheese soup isn't enjoyed to it's fullest until it's eaten out of a crusty, freshly baked roll the size of two fists.

I have the dough rising as we speak.

Creme brulee steel cut oats and a gravy worth killing your parents for.

Silly me, I forgot to take my own picture, so I'm borrowing this one from Jaden of Steamy Kitchen to give you a good idea of what I dealt with on Saturday.

Trent and I went to this really amazing, tucked away breakfast joint called Eggs in the City, which is a hipster magnet and a maker of very fine food.

The menu is definitely more about quality than quantity.

Trent got the epitome of comfort food when he ordered the biscuits and gravy. I don't think I've ever tasted something so packed with flavor. Fluffy biscuit topped with a layer of cheese topped with a creamy, meaty-flavored gravy and flecks of sausage paired with seasoned home fries.

I spent an hour of heaven taking turns dipping into Trent's breakfast and my own bowl of textured loveliness. Candied pecans, sliced banana, simmered oats, topped with a crystal layer of torched brown sugar.

It will stay with me all week.

So much, in fact, that I've bookmarked the recipe for future cravings.

Annie Kevans

It really kills me that often you cannot buy prints of paintings that newer artists do. Why do this? Why make it an exclusive purchase that can only be enjoyed by one very rich person? Annie Kevans, your portraits are to die for, and I promise you that if you were to offer prints of your work, I would be the first to snatch one up.

I wonder if this will be sort of like how hundreds of years ago, the only people who heard live, orchestrated music were rich people who employed musicians and church goers-- and now anyone with a connection to the Internet can listen to almost anything.

This is the future. It's time to start making things available to the masses.

Annie Kevans, I hope you're listening.

Mental Insurance.

So, the other day, I finally put my irrational fears to rest for good when I bought renters insurance for our apartment. I'd attempted it more than a few times in the past, but I could never get a hold of my insurance guy during my free time so it just kept not happening. Every time I heard a story about how someone's house burned down or there was some sort of natural disaster and they lost everything, my chest constricted and I felt SURE that this was bound to happen to me UNLESS I had renters insurance. It's like a magic bubble of protection. I may lose everything, but it's less likely because I'm paying monthly for the promise that someone will pay for every single knick knack I have if I were to lose it. Good deal.

So, last night (which, by the way, was a mere two days after I bought the insurance), I dreamt that our living room couch caught fire. From our heater vent.

As part of our settlement, I received enough to buy the above couch on Overstock.com.

Still dreaming, I constructed the blog post to warn everyone about the dangers of heater vents and to make it a priority to purchase renter's insurance, but to also rave about how cool it was that I got a new couch out of a potentially devastating situation.

I thought it only fair to follow through.

Even though I didn't get a new couch out of it.

Making the bed.

Instead of spending $600 on a new DLSR, I vowed to make the most of the technology I currently owned and went on an Internet man-hunt for some tips and tricks for my Canon SX210. I know nothing about cameras, but I love photography. I ended up on a really great website, http://www.kenrockwell.com/, the author did a really fantastic review of a similar camera, the Canon S90, which really inspired me to start exploring beyond the "auto" setting. I took the day off to recharge my batteries, so I played around with it for a couple hours and I'm feeling really confident.

Also, with nothing but time on my hands until Trent came home from work, I spent a solid three hours cooking a decadent faux-Italian meatball and spaghetti dinner. It was intense. And really delicious. I realize I'm on the verge of bragging, but I kid you not, I fried an entire package of bacon simply for the 1/4 cup of bacon fat I needed to fry my meatballs.

That's dedication.

I'm still burping garlic, 4 hours later.

(Picture of the meatballs is courtesy of marksdailyapple.com)