Over the weekend my boy and I decided it was high time we slowed our roll, smelled the fresh pine of the Boy Scouts selling trees on every corner, and do something festive and celebratory in light of our favorite time of year being in full swing. So late Sunday afternoon we pulled ourselves off of the couch, threw on our church best and hailed a cab to Lincoln Center where we spent two hours listening to The Philharmonic Principal Brass Quintet bless our ears with Christmas music. And two days later I am still sighing with wonder over the incredible talent we had the privilege of witnessing.

Seriously, watching the two trumpeters bookend the group made me wish I hadn’t given up the instrument in eighth grade after knocking out my front tooth. (It was a rough time, trust me.) But friends, these musicians were INSANE. As in absolutely, positively astounding. Now, I realize I come from a musical family and grew up around very talented performers… but (don’t tell my grandmother) this group put everyone else I have ever met to shame.

And the best part? Seeing the pure, unsaturated JOY the group had while playing their music. Honestly, you could be the most devoted follower of Japanese techno dance beats, and you would have still sat in the audience riveted with a silly, lopsided grin stretching your face.

I can’t say enough how blessed I felt to have the opportunity to attend. It was a very merry way to celebrate Christmas. Oh, and in my next life? I will be as good of a piano player as Lee Musiker. I swear that man had about ten invisible hands. That’s the only way to explain the the music he made.

(And sorry, no pictures. I played by the rules and refrained from capturing a secret photo of the performance. Unlike the elderly gentleman in front of us who not only snapped his FLASH in the middle of a song, but then proceeded to WIND HIS DISPOSABLE CAMERA during a pause in the melody. Twist, twist, twist, twist, twist, SNAP!)

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas… and I couldn’t be happier about that fact! And due to this naturally hectic time of year in my industry as well as personal life – who isn’t swamped from Thanksgiving to New Year’s? – I have been delinquent and absent and missing from the blogging world. My apologies, as per usual.

But… I have been feeling festive and in the mood to be inspired, so I looked no further than my overly talented sister-in-law (yes, OVERLY TALENTED because I feel that it isn’t fair that one person should contain so much creativity!) and her latest Christmas decorations for a local business in her town.

Who would have thought to use cotton? Oh wait, Shanon did. Can you please move in with me and make my home magical too?

(Image borrowed from the every inspiring Bittersweet Floral)

[Image courtesy of NY Daily News]

It is officially the most magical time of the year. The Rockefeller Center Christmas tree is lit – so it must be official! Of course in the midst of such a busy time of year, I can’t help but feel myself sucked into the natural excitement that is created by this city. The lights, the decorations, the music. It is always and forever one of my favorites.

And as if that wasn’t exciting enough… I officially have the best Secret Santa at work considering this was delivered to my office late this afternoon. The perfect cap to the week. And yes, I shared. Do I look like the kind of girl who would sit in a room alone and just devour an entire box of cupcakes? Ok, I probably would. But it is the season of giving. So I gave.

And then I stumbled across this post on another website and it made me laugh. And laugh, and laugh. Because didn’t we all believe that dogs were male and cats were female at some point in our lives? Naturally.

11 Things You Believed As a Kid

Miss Bianca shot! I realize it has been way too long since the queen has made an appearance, and I just know that you have missed her terribly. Well, here she is in all of her glory. Still sitting like a gremlin.

Have a lovely weekend, friends! And get ready for Christmas because IT’S COMING! xoxo

For the third year in a row, my boy and I continued with our NYC tradition of eating out for Thanksgiving. Don’t get me wrong, I love cooking. In fact for all of our years living in Southern California, more often than not we hosted the meal ourselves. Sometimes two friends would join, sometimes twelve. But the reality of our city size easy-bake oven is that creating a pilgrim worthy feast is simply not happening. So instead, we tried a new restaurant venue again this year: The Cornelia Street Cafe. And what can I say? It was delicious and cozy and festive and more than slightly entertaining as we invited ourselves to be silent observers of our table neighbors… It was a Meet The New Girlfriend’s Parents Meal of epic proportions. The poor boyfriend was nervous and awkward and amazingly comical. But more in a it’s-so-funny-because-I’m-glad-it’s-not-me scenario.

Overall, it was the perfect Thanksgiving filled with relaxing, napping, watching movies and eating. And I have to admit that I could eat all starches and not feel an ounce of guilt. Because Thanksgiving is really all about the sides. In my opinion.

Happy Belated Thanksgiving!

On my walk home from the gym tonight there was a surprisingly comfortable breeze blowing down the street that caused handfuls of loose yellow leaves to come tumbling down. It was a lovely fall moment.

The same man stands at my subway stop in Soho each morning, handing out free newspapers to anyone willing to take one. Every day on my way to the office he catcalls winks whistles says hello. Until last week when he told me I look like Lindsay Lohan. So now he calls me “Linds.” I am not sure if I am offended or not. And I can tell you right now I am most definitely NOT her doppelganger. Nor is she mine.

I am working at 4 o’clock in the morning on Black Friday. But I don’t mind in the least because it means it is just one more day I get to wear my Christmas sweater. Complete with vintage stripes and ornaments knitted across the chest. Rock on.

I have a co-worker who has such a slight accent that I nearly always forget that her native land is not the United States, but Germany. Until in the midst of a light-hearted conversation she becomes deadly serious and demands to know the meaning of “playing hookey.” And I realize for the first time in my life just how hard it is to explain that particular turn of phrase since her confusion was only compounded when I used the equally befuddling slang of “cutting class.”

Do you ever stop and think about the interesting vignettes that make up your day? It is one of my favorite things to do.