All about an egg.

It’s Easter!  And a happy one to you.

We’re still temporarily based in Chicago, across the street from my brother Matt, sister-in-law Megan, plus let’s not forget little Sophie, who has everyone she meets, including me, wrapped around her little finger.  Today she came down the stairs in her mommy’s arms, hair still a little damp from a burner of an afternoon nap, and looked right towards my husband before saying, clear as day – “John!

We’re toast.

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The unbelievable.

Friends, it happened. On May 22, John and I will be moving onto 130-acres of magical land freshly renamed Apricot Lane Farms in Moorpark, CA. A small, welcoming town that sits 50-minutes north of Los Angeles, CA, 25-minutes east of the beaches of Ventura and just over the hill from Burbank, where the major television studios sit in all their powerful glory. The farm contains 80-acres of orchard, currently lemon and avocados, plus 40-acres of horse pasture, which will be converted to raise heritage breed lamb, chickens and pigs.  I stand in awe of the events that have recently unfolded and unending gratitude is the only way I know to begin accepting this huge opportunity.

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Restaurant Review: Alinea (Warning – iPhone pics!)

I had no idea what was coming.  All I knew was… I was late.  Standing in my undies, hair half-dried and make-up questionable, the door rang simultaneously with the phone.  I fumbled with the call box of our new apartment to let my separation-anxiety ridden dog’s “baby-sitter” up, as I answered my brother’s call with a falsely cool, “we’ll be right down!”  I’m amazed nothing was broken as I tore through the house and down the stairs.  I was almost surprised to see my husband sitting next to me in my brother’s new conversion van; he made it, too!  And yes, I said conversion van, circa 2004, very “my brother.”  He makes a nice living for himself, nice enough to treat us all to an amazing evening out at possibly the nicest restaurant in the States, yet he couldn’t give a flip about money, and instead, gets really jazzed about his hand-me-down van, one that allows him to put a mattress in the back for long road trips.  Not to mention, he just got the van that day, so we were driving to Alinea sans license plate.  Maybe the first ever illegal conversion van to pull up to that valet stand, a badge of honor we wore with pride.

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Hello Chicago!

Trust me.  The picture above is not an exaggeration… it is that cold.  In fact, I think my nose was still a little chilly.

Actually, John and I also considered opening with this picture.


Also accurate, but my lack of hat might be deceiving, so I instead led with my accidental Kenny impersonation.  However the second picture does resemble an upside-down octopus or maybe one of those science-fair globes that lights up when you touch it, which is quite nice.

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