Tearing Up Houses

::New:: In The Shop

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 23:49:00 +0000

Vintage Bright White American Family Scale

Vintage Pewtarex York Pennsylvania Fish Platter

Vintage RRP Company Roseville Pot

Large Wall Hung Brass Bell

Vintage White Soup Tureen Bowl

Pfaltzgraff Yorktown Blue Serving Platter

Pulling Back The Curtain

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 01:31:00 +0000

I booked a flight out of town for Friday, but this weekend all I wanted to do was spend time with Andrew, the dogs, and that turtle inside of my belly. We went shopping and played basketball and ate ice cream and took long walks. Followed by even longer naps.

Before I take off for a few days, I'm going to try to do a post answering some of your questions about The Nursery Before + After. (And possibly the new house purchase, since I've gotten a few emails about that? Is there enough interest?) If you'd like to know anything that you haven't yet asked, feel free to leave it in the comments below.

Until then, here's a round up of some of the pieces I'm digging for the kiddo's closet.

Rugby Striped Storage Bin

Eames Hang It All

Children's Shirt

East Village Poster

Tin Pendant

Such Things As Coexisting

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 17:43:00 +0000

For the last several weeks, when I look downward all I see is belly.

I haven't embraced it in the way that I thought I would, and find myself wondering on an hourly basis who this unrecognizable body belongs to and what strangers think of it and will I be able to tie my shoes in the morning?

Still, as the days go by I'm growing further and further in awe of this entire process, how my muscles and bones and hormones have taken over in a total and utter dictatorship, against all of my protests, directing my body to care for Aston in exactly the way that it should, in the way that every mother and doctor and midwife and textbook advises.

Yet my feelings towards it remain paradoxical. There is the intense respect I've developed for it, on an entirely new level, but it's coupled with a refusal to fully own it, to attach an identity to it, to redefine myself in any sort of physical way (though it's pretty hard to deny the pity looks I get when I'm running).

This surprises me.

Before + After: The Lake House: Nursery

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 23:54:00 +0000

So, friends, The Nursery is finally complete enough to share. This is where Mr. Aston Robert will sleep, breathe, and poop.

Hopefully light on the poop.

Just to refresh your memory, here's what it originally looked like. It's a fairly large space with an attached sunroom and rooftop terrace.

It had beautiful bones, but the yellow was killing me. It had to go.

When I first began working on the design I'd already accumulated most of the pieces I wanted to use. I realized early on that this project was going to be very personal. I wanted not only a functional and comfortable space, but a room filled with things that we love, things that a little boy of ours might love, too. This was our focus, and as the plan developed it became less and less important if The Nursery actually looked the part of, well, a nursery.

Nearly everything was found at local estates or consignment shops or during our travels. I bought the ottoman online from a place in India. The little cowboy boots were Andrew's. The work above the crib is mine from years ago. You may recognize the pharmacy lamp from our old office. The little red stool is something I picked up a while back and was using in The Laundry Room. The only new piece of furniture is the Bloom Coco Stylewood Baby Bouncer (gifted from Andrew's parents), unless you count the new slipcover I bought for the rocker.

So what are your thoughts?

Not too shabby, right?

Lakeside Happiness

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 23:03:00 +0000

Lately, Aston and I spend most of our time here.

Except when we're not actually there, and we're in here. Looking out there.

It's beautiful and it's our happy place. Seriously.

We laugh and putz around and talk. Usually about how pretty it is or what we're going to make for dinner. Yesterday I read him a little Michael Palmer organ theft medical mystery thriller. Sometimes the conversation turns toward politics. You never know with that kid.

Also, before you ask (because I know someone will), I'll tell you. That belly. Yes. It is killing me. My back. My feet. My neck.

Did you happen to notice that first photo? The pulling to the left in my stomach?

That, my friends, IS A MOTHERLOVING KICK.

(Probably because I'd just told him he couldn't go swimming or that we were out of milk or something. Kids.)

Anyway, all kinds of weirdness is going on over here. Suddenly, I can no longer stomach bread crust. And I've developed this thing where all of my drinks must be consumed by straw. Even bottled water. Oh, and my hips. Oh. my. gosh. my. hips. They feel like they're being attacked with machetes pretty much all of the time.

My body has morphed into a science fiction version of Million Dollar Baby and I'm like Rudy on the training squad at Notre Dame. Aston has the power of no less than fourteen commercial jets and when he kicks, entire villages are relocated in Mexico.

Maybe because I've been feeding him this?

almond milk (vanilla/unsweetened) + banana.berries.kale.spinach.stevia

mix, rinse, repeat

I can't help thinking that by the time he's done baking they'll need a Caterpillar and three Jaws of Life to unearth that beast. My lady parts are legitimately terrified.

Along those lines, I've stopped reading any and all pregnancy, baby, and motherhood books and websites. And, honestly? Sometimes I wish I still had an assistant to screen my email. For anyone who has felt the need to impress upon me how essential their birth coaches or lamaze classes or parent groups or diets or breastfeeding theories are slash were slash will totally be for me (in romantic and overly passionate bordering on obsessive tones), I say to you. I SAY TO YOU.

Go forth, good soul!

I applaud you and your unsolicited, uncomfortably personal, overly informative, well meaning rhetoric.

I have taken mental note and will be preparing for this birth by doing shots and choosing a carefully selected playlist comprised of Mozart and The Ramones and Keren Ann, minus the shots. But I did go see Hugo and The Muppets, so I figure the extra credit should cover me skipping out on the other stuff.

And thank you for thinking of me.

But enough baby bidnid, let me show you what I found for Andrew.

I love big, chunky, executive desks and I've wanted to get him one ever since laying eyes on our new humungo office. The one we scored on consignment is a 1920s walnut Doten Dunton that weighs nearly five hundred pounds. Which explains why it has not moved a single hair from the precise awkward spot it was left in upon delivery.

Maybe I should ask Aston to kick it.

(By the way, ignore everything else in that photo. Aside from setting up shop we have yet to touch anything in that room, save the fireplace that singed Andrew's eyebrows. Soon, though. Probably.)

Oh and, before I forget, I have a dishwasher dilemma that I'm hoping you might be able to help with. I'm looking at that one, a basic stainless steel Magic Chef workhorse. I talked my South Florida appliance place down to $239 for it, which is sort of irresistable for a tall tub. I thought I'd ask if any of you have it and what you think before I give the salesguy the green light. The reviews are pretty good, and I need a new one, like, yesterday since our GE model just pooped out on us at The Downtown Townhouse. Would you let me know if it is awesome or notsoawesome?

Also, one more thing. Thank you to everyone who has said slash emailed nice things to me about the baby slash nursery slash pregnancy. Most of the support I've received has been amazing and not of the my two epidurals didn't work slash let me tell you about how I never had morning sickness slash blah, blah, blah, I didn't gain any weight slash I gained four thousand pounds slash what do you mean you haven't read every single pamphlet published about SIDS on the face of the earth variety.

Anyway, you're the ones who make my day.

Before + Progress: The Lake House: Nursery, Part 3

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 00:16:00 +0000

I have no idea what is going on with me.

I woke up this morning craving a cappuccino, a finished nursery, and a disgustingly clean house. When you're renovating, that last one is pretty unrealistic which explains why, in true form, I made a valiant effort to scrub and dust every single surface within reach of my very pregnant self (and probably quite a few that were not).

It ended with me Googling a Roomba.

Buuut. Look what happened in here.

The Nursery painting is finished!

See Part 2 here.
See Part 1 here.

::New:: In The Shop

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 20:25:00 +0000

Brass Farm Bull Sculpture

Vintage Cobalt Monmouth Crock Cookie Jar

Lovely Woven Wicker Basket

Questions Children Ask Book By Bonhivert

Chippy Black Wire Cottage Planter Basket

Sweet Vintage Cream Piggy Bank

Vintage Rand McNally Globe

“she tapped her finger and nothing happened and she thought she had lost her magic, but it had only changed and it took her awhile to figure it out.”

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 23:08:00 +0000

Before + Progress: The Lake House: Nursery, Part 2

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 14:04:00 +0000

Apparently I've never shown you the other side of The Nursery?

I realized it the other day when we began prepping the walls and Andrew painted the ceiling. Necessary but exhausting work, and the least satisfying part of any renovation. Ceilings blow. I dream of the day I buy a property with freshly painted ceilings.

Anyway, I can't complain too much, because since I'm pregnant my shoulders were spared, and I wandered around with my camera and supervised. And by supervised I mean that I watched television and took pictures. And drank lemonade. And ordered dinner.

The abdominal bowling ball does have it's perks.

So this is one of the random photos I took, in Aston's room, next to the closet overlooking our yard. See that house in back of us?

IT IS AMAZING.

I call it The Jake Ryan House, because it's a dead ringer from the front, except a bazillion times prettier than the actual place they used.

This is The Real Jake Ryan House in Illinois where they filmed Sixteen Candles.

I desperately want to go to a party at my neighbor's place and pretend it's the eighties.

Too bad no one lives there. It's for sale, but for over twice what we paid for this place and with no view and a billion times more square footage than I'd know what to do with.

But think of the shindigs I could throw!!!

(Andrew is somewhere reading this and just threw up in his mouth. He doesn't get the Dongonater.)

Anyway. I got some new kid things.

The Bob Ironman Triathlon. It came highly recommended by a few of the girls I ran with in college, and the reviews are stellar. I added on the carseat adapter and ordered a compatible Graco Snugride - which is inexpensive and reportedly highly rated in terms of safety, but will probably be a tad uglier than I'd prefer in person.

Andrew's parents gifted us this Bloom Coco Stylewood Baby Bouncer. I'm so happy to have a rocker thingy made from wood and not plastic.

And I finally decided on dipes. BumGenius 4.0 Snaps. While I'd love to tell you it was another green choice, truthfully I couldn't care less about environmentally friendly pooper catchers, and made this decision mostly because it'll be cheaper long term with less chance for rashes. And cloth is better looking.

We'll see what I think a year from now.

See Part 1 here.

Before + Progress: The Lake House: Nursery, Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 02:39:00 +0000

Save the six something hours we spent finishing preparations to The Historic House By The Water and the eighty three emergency phone calls we took about a flood at The Pad By The Sea, we did a little of this over Christmas.

[park + soccer + belly]

I also moved a bunch of furniture and experimented with some ideas for the nursery. This is how it looked when the previous owners lived here.

Those blinds cover up it's best asset, the view from the sitting area.

Yes, I totally plan on relocating them to the donation pile. Probably to be replaced with simple white linen or cotton panels.

In addition to the lake scene in front of the house, the room completely misses out on connecting with the rooftop terrace that's located on the back. Even though it's designed with railings and built to hold the weight of a large deck, it was hardly ever utilized, and there was never a doorway installed to enter from the nursery. I don't plan on changing that right away (lest our future two year old attempt to play Superman), but I will eventually, unless we end up using the space for an addition.

So. That's what we're working with.

Here are some of the pieces I've chosen for the nursery. They are all awesome. Maybe.

Martha Stewart's Whetstone Gray in Satin.

Vintage bedspread from La Biblioteca.

A slipcovered rocker.

A giraffe that's as tall as I am. I have named him Macaroni. From here.

A toasted maple full size Jenny Lind bed similar to this, but from the early 1900s.

I think that's it.

I should talk to you about the closet, but that deserves it's own post.

Bumps In The Road

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 05:00:00 +0000

A few hours ago Andrew I went for a quick run on the beach and he managed to steal a few photos of the baby nestled uncomfortably in the lunacy that used to be my six pack. I've torn two ligments and my belly button has all but disappeared.

In other pregnancy developments, I've eaten my weight in cottage cheese this month. Mostly mixed with unsweetened cinnamon applesauce, but pineapples or oranges do the trick as well. It has to be lowfat Breakstone's for some reason and is usually consumed after I victimize the pickle jar.

Someone please slap me.

By the way, did I mention we made the move?

Despite the pulled muscles and continued morning, scratch that, all hours of the day sickness, I sucked it up long enough to pack a few boxes and watch Andrew nearly murder himself hauling all of the large furniture.

The Lake House is only a few blocks away, which I am extremely grateful for, since it means we've been able to transfer everything slowly.

Other than that there has been a lot of this lately.

Aside from being sick and getting The Historic House By The Water ready for the new tenants, and I had to find a replacement for my long time resident at The Pad By The Sea. Which meant advertising the bejebus out of the place and forwarding it to all of my contacts and stressing out about holding a vacancy and traveling to South Florida for showings. Only to have three full price offers on it in less than fifteen minutes after the first three showings. Who knew?

Though I was relieved, there was still a mountain of paperwork to be filled out, background checks to be run, signatures to be forwarded.

Then there was the leaky air conditioner, the garage roof repair, the busted irrigation pipe, and a couple of late rent checks. Across four properties in three cities. And I'm working from a shotty new internet connection on a mattress on the floor.

It's all a little overwhelming.

But I assure you I'm not complaining. I'm trying to embrace this, each moment, my belly growing all Alien, lapping down pickle juice, planning how to rip apart every inch of the new house and turn it into prettiness. Really, in a lot of ways, I'm having the time of my life. It's just that I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that I'm crying every other day, that I've now developed the scary side effect of blacking out when Aston practices his backstroke, that I curse after I've thrown up on myself. yet. again.

IN PUBLIC.

At the same time, I realize how incredibly fortunate and blessed we are this holiday season, not only to have food, shelter, and each other, but to truly have everything that anyone could possibly wish for. And I take nothing, none of it, for granted.

I guess I'm just trying to find my sea legs.

Fur Coat

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 03:14:00 +0000

Poor thing has no idea she's about to be replaced as the baby of the family.

I expect there will be rioting.

Turns Out You're All Wrong

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 23:45:00 +0000

It's a boy!

Plastic Toys + Other Sins

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 14:15:00 +0000

Look at these.

I like toys like that.

I do not like toys like this.

How do you (politely) let people know that you'd prefer that they not give your kid plastic chemical soaked toys? Or loud toys? Or anything that is designed to cruise faster than a Ferrari?

I'm not the type of person who has trouble being direct, but handing out gift requests is something that I abhor. I find registries and want lists and catalog favorites tacky. (For our wedding we suggested charity donations in lieu of presents.)

I have no idea how to say, "Does this come with a gift receipt?" without feeling like dog doo doo.

Then again, I'd really rather my kid didn't suck on something that smells like a used tire lot.

How do you handle this sort of thing?

Scam

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 15:34:00 +0000

Sorry for the scam emails, everyone. Obviously, we are not stranded in Scotland after being attacked by an armed gunman. DO NOT SEND ANY MONEY. That email is not from me! Please delete it and run a precautionary virus scan on your computer.

If anyone knows how to retrieve the permanently deleted emails (thank you, hacker!) that I just lost I would be incredibly grateful. Please comment here, rather than email me for now.

Random

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 03:39:00 +0000

After I posted that video the other day, a well meaning friend suggested I promote the girls beyond the first letter of the alphabet because even though I am a total Houdini at manipulating them into what are probably considered glorified training bras, there will apparently be a day in my near future when a humiliating wardrobe malfunction is imminent.

Lest it involve breast milk.

As a result I spent the better part of this afternoon trading in my dignity for boulder holders, postpartum workout girdles, nursing pads, and two different styles of maternity belts. I am now fully equipped to be strapped, tucked, wrapped, folded, lifted, pressed and not leaking. Andrew plans to check every twenty minutes or so to make sure I'm still breathing.

Aside from that, we're packing and working our way through a few odd projects that need to be taken care of before our tenants move into The Historic House By The Water.

Like this.

I'd love to meet the person whose idea it was to put a wood frame window under a showerhead without any type of moisture barrier. at. all. The brilliance. We closed that puppy up, which made me simultaneously sad (goodbye natural light) and relieved (no more mildew concerns). Luckily we had enough original brick salvaged from our kitchen renovation to be able to give to the mason for the facade, so at least we were able to match the exterior fairly closely.

In other news, do any of you watch Parenthood?

I keep going back to Sydney's little red retro play kitchen and I finally figured out where in the heck it came from. Maybe you've seen this set before, but I'm sort of consumed with this adorable white version. If it included a miniature Top Chef contestant it would be GAME ON.

Also, before I forget, guess who has finally leapt into the world of Pinterest?

You can find me here.

One more little piece of business before I go. A few of you have asked about specific pieces in the shop posts. I should probably be more clear, since the color of my links went ape shiz during the blog redesign, but if you click on the descriptions underneath of the photos it will send you directly to the listings.

That's it for now!

Meet The Parents

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Sun, 27 Nov 2011 13:29:00 +0000

::New:: In The Shop

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 01:39:00 +0000

Vintage Joe DiMaggio Mickey Mantle Billy Martin Signed Portrait

Vintage Willie Mays Signed Collectible Baseball

Atlanta Braves Baseball Legend Hank Aaron Signature

Vintage Ernie Banks Signature

Williams DiMaggio Autographs With Certificate Of Authenticity

Vintage DiMaggio Mantle Williams Signed Portrait With Certificate Of Authenticity

Nolan Ryan Roger Clemens Autographs

Recently

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 02:07:00 +0000

During the first trimester I pined for a perfectly obvious baby bump, the kind that makes strangers understand that ralphing in the post office parking lot at eleven o'clock in the morning has nothing to do with alcoholism. Probably.

Through the miracle of stretchy pants that moment has finally arrived.

The baby mountain makes the entire parenting thing seem progressively more imminent, and Andrew has taken to having fatherly discussions with our child, things like, "Stop making your mother puke, you little punk," which he whispers directly into my belly button.

Too bad we are dealing with an anarchist.

In related news, apparently I have a thing for teeny tiny shoes. And boots. And sandals. And socks. I am three pairs away from a fetish.

Let's talk about something else.

Robert Novogratz bought a set of our Meakin plates for his new HGTV series, Home By Novogratz. Remember him from 9 By Design? With the seventy six offspring? Can you imagine all of the tiny shoes in that household?

I love their family.

Let's see, what else happened this week?

Oh. I made apple pizza for the first time, and I'm proud to report that it was devoured in less than three and a half seconds. It was sooo good.

Almost as good as tiny shoes. On teeny tiny Novogratz's.

Questions + Comments, Part 2

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 01:19:00 +0000

More questions. More comments. More answers. Sort of.
_____________________________________________________________________________________

Pregnancy gets better. It does.

Thank you for this. I hope you're right.

This is nothing compared to after you give birth. You'll completely lose your privacy and you'll never sleep again. Also, you'll get stretch marks and you will probably die.

Save the stretch marks, you just described architecture school.

What are you doing with The Historical House By The Water?

We rented it out to a couple from Texas. We were a little concerned about finding tenants this close to the holidays, but we threw an ad on the internet and a sign in the ground and were pleasantly shocked at the response. Luckily, after turning down two other applications, we found the right fit after only eight days.

Is there a waiting list I can be put on for when it becomes available next?

Sure.

Did you try ginger for the nausea?

The nausea comes and goes, but it doesn't seem to correlate with any foods or smells EXCEPT for ginger. Because I'm lucky like that.

What kind of workouts have you been doing since you got pregnant?

I do most of the same things I did before, just a bit slower. Running, walking, kicking around the soccer ball, P90x, lifting, yada yada yada. They seem to help. The only things I cut out completely after the first couple of months were jump rope and traditional sit ups.

I love reading about your pregnancy. Will you write about it more?

I feel like I'm boring you when I do. I also feel like I'm somehow being inconsiderate or disrespectful to those who are having difficulties conceiving or creating a larger family.

Please stop writing so much about your pregnancy. Don't turn this into a mommy blog.

That would be on par with the European financial crisis and global warming, wouldn't it?

Thank you for being so honest about your pregnancy.

Carrying this beast has been such a strange experience for me. There are so many little moments, precious ones, but they get squelched between bouts of feeling like my stomach is under a three thousand pound rolling pin.

If I add regular sugar in lieu of the Splenda mix, will your recipes turn out the same?

I'm actually not a fan of Splenda (or sucralose, in general) in any form, but because I usually cut the sugar way down in most of what I make, I add a bit of the Splenda mix to keep the texture right. My body doesn't seem to do well with sugar for whatever reason. Anyway, yes, any of my recipes will work with all regular sugar (even a lot more regular sugar).

Are you doing cloth or disposables?

Cloth. I'm thinking Bum Genius Adjustables. I'm very open to any tips or suggestions.

Is the first project in the new house going to be the nursery?

There will be a lot of smaller projects and planning for the first year. The first large project will most likely be the Master Bathroom.

You look huge.

I am huge.

I thought you weren't ready to have children?

Even though we conceived around three and a half seconds after we started trying, do not mistake this pregnancy as anything other than one of the most well considered decisions of my life. Still, I'm under no illusions that I'm prepared.

One of the reasons I've always been so hesitant about parenting is because I think that, on some level, conscious reproducing takes a certain amount of arrogance, at least a teensy bit of believing that you are brilliant enough to form an entirely capable member of the next generation.

And I lose my car keys at least six times a week.

Questions + Comments, Part 1

I Mean It's Not Like Making A Hot Dog

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Fri, 11 Nov 2011 21:05:00 +0000

Is what Andrew said to me when I asked him why it's taking so long to bake this baby, and I was this close to yelling, "WELL WE BOTH KNOW WHOSE HOT DOG IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS."

Pregnancy brings out the rational side of me.

It's also turned me into an unbelievably groggy, ridiculously large and disproportionate, shell of my former self. I'm awkward and pukey and none of my clothes fit. I'm like a hungover Sumo wrestler with the flu and a closet full of size zero skinny jeans. The other day I squeezed myself between two boxes while trying to get out of the garage and I couldn't unwedge myself. I fall asleep doing everything from talking to typing to eating to television watching to taking a shower. I fall asleep five minutes after I wake up and then I fall asleep fifteen minutes after I wake up from that. I probably fall asleep while I'm sleeping.

I'm not even certain I'm awake right now.

The only upside to that last part is that sleeping is one of the rare activities that keeps me from vomiting, the other two being working out and eating, which added together pretty much sums up how I've spent my recent days.

So while I probably should be packing, I've been going for runs and walks and making soup and braised ribs and taking afternoon naps.

And evening naps.

And morning naps.

Anyway, all of that to explain why I'm posting another recipe.

Turkey Meatball Escarole Soup

serves 2

1 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil
1 sliced carrot
1/8 cup diced red onion
1 chopped garlic clove
salt
1/2 teaspoon tomato paste
1 pinch crushed red pepper flakes
1/2 head chopped escarole
2 cups chicken stock
1 cup water
1/2 cup whole wheat elbow pasta
9 precooked frozen turkey meatballs
1/4 cup canned navy beans
1/2 teaspoon lemon juice
1/8 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 cup grated Parmesan

Warm the olive oil in a large pot over medium low heat. Stir in carrots, onion, garlic, and a pinch of salt. Saute four minutes. Add the tomato paste and red pepper. Stir one minute. Mix in escarole.

Add chicken stock and water to the pot and bring to a boil. Add pasta and simmer for five minutes. Add the meatballs and beans and continue simmering another eight minutes or until meatballs are heated through. Mix in lemon juice, black pepper, and more salt, to taste. Ladle into bowls and top with Parmesan.

Pumpkin Bread Plus Bananas Minus Pumpkin

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Fri, 11 Nov 2011 05:09:00 +0000

This is what you get when you have four overly ripe bananas and a hankering for pumpkin bread.

Goodness.

Are you wondering what happened to the other ten or so slices?

So is Andrew.

Banana Bread

1 1/2 cups white flour
1/2 cup wheat flour
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup Splenda Sugar Blend
1/4 cup Smart Balance 50/50 Butter Blend, softened
2 large eggs
3 or 4 mashed ripe bananas
1/3 cup plain lowfat yogurt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
cooking spray

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Combine the flour, baking soda, and salt, stirring with a whisk.

Place sugar and butter in a large bowl, and beat with a mixer at medium speed for a minute or two. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the banana, yogurt, and vanilla. Beat until blended. Add the flour mixture. Beat at low speed just until moist. Pour batter into a loaf pan coated with cooking spray. Bake at 350 degrees for 65 minutes. Cool 10 minutes in pan on a wire rack. Remove from pan. Cool completely on wire rack.

Questions + Comments, Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Tue, 08 Nov 2011 04:05:00 +0000

I'm learning that everyone has an opinion on baby baking. And house buying. And my banana bread.

You may or may not have noticed that I've been ignoring questions and comments and emails with links about the dangers of thumb sucking and how it can lead to premature hair loss. Not because I'm not interested in that time that your great great great second half cousin bought a historic home that was exactly like the one that we're buying except that it came with two rabid squirrels and a bad roof which fell down around his ankles thirty two seconds after he moved in which, don't worry, will totally not happen to us probably, but by the way, did I hire a good inspector?

Because you were just wondering.

No, mostly I've been unresponsive because, well... truthfully... I'm exhausted... worn out, well toasted, whatever you want to call it, and it's making me a bit overly sensitive. (The fifteen weeks of throwing up may have something to do with it too, but who wants to hear about that?)

Anyway, here are some of the things that you're saying.

And (finally) what I think.
_____________________________________________________________________________________

Are you going to breastfeed?

I'm going to try. I'm pretty committed, but we'll see.

You're having a girl, aren't you?

So says you and every single other person in the world. But the holy ultrasound has yet to give it's magic reading.

Do you think it'll have red hair?

Nothing would shock me at this point.

Have you bought any maternity clothes yet?

Still squeezing into my size 25 jeans. Which do not belong on a belly this size. I fully expect to split a seam any day now. Or crack a rib.

The new house has a ton of wallpaper. Have fun with that.

Actually the staging company removed most of what you see in the photos. Otherwise, we'd just get pregnant again. Cheap labor force.

I kind of liked the wallpaper.

Strangely, me too. Not in it's current context, but in a Laura-Ashley-early-eighties meets Italian-farmhouse sort of way.

Are you gutting that kitchen?

Yes. Along with much of the house.

Are you feeling any less nauseous yet?

No.

I'm coming through Florida, can we visit?

Reread the last question. As long as your gag reflexes are in check, I'd be down for a cup of tea.

That house is big. You're getting ready to have sixteen kids, aren't you?

Probably not. We just love the house.

You're getting ready to adopt more dogs then?

The house that backs up to the backyard is asking four times the price. And the house two doors down just sold for twice what we paid. Also, we really just love the house.

Have you had any cravings?

I've had all kinds of bizarre cravings. You really don't want to hear about them. Trust me.

Don't you love being pregnant?

Honestly, no. I'm not fond of the way that I look, and I do not like the way that I feel. For some nonsensical reason, in the past, I'd always thought that if I ever got pregnant I'd take it in stride, eat it up, sunbathe in my state of impending motherhood. But, no, it's a lot of burping and ralphing. Basically, it's gross.

Is there anything that you actually do like about being pregnant so far?

I seem to have that whole glow thing going on. And the ultrasounds melt me.

Have you named the new house yet?

The Lake House.

I really like those back stairs.

Me too.

That sun room is gorgeous.

It really is a great space. We're turning it into a dining room. The view is amazing.

Be careful with that bump. Stop climbing ladders and sniffing paint.

You're right. No, really. I am trying to be careful, but I need to be reminded. Or smacked.

Further Proof That I Can No Longer Convince Myself That My Sweatpants Are Discreet

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 18:44:00 +0000

"Please don't fall off of that ladder. I'd like to not kill two people this morning." Said the random roofer to me earlier today.

Where We're Headed

noreply@blogger.com (KellyMellyBoBellyBananaFanna) — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 05:21:00 +0000

Andrew asked, "The question is, do you love it?"

I said, "Yes, but..."

"But do you love it?"

Of course I love it. It's just. Why would I do that to myself right now?

He said, "Why not?"

So we did.