Having My (Coconut) Cake and Eating it Too

I've always hated the saying "having your cake and eating it too."  Because what are you supposed to do with cake if not eat it?  Let it sit around and attract vermin?  Nevertheless, when it came time to blog about two recent reads, one of which happened to have "cake" in the title, my love of puns outweighed my distaste for this phrase.  And so that's how you came to be reading Having My Coconut Cake and Eating it Too, a microsummary of Amy E. Reichert's The Coincidence of Coconut Cake and Jenn McKinlay's Death of a Mad Hatter.  The first is about a delicious confection; the other is about hats that look like delicious confections -- or at least about hats that can be worn while eating said confections and trying not to get murdered.  

The Coincidence of Coconut Cake serves up a Milwaukee meet-cute between a struggling restauranteur and a cranky food critic.  After nearly colliding over a decadent coconut cake, the two embark upon an unlikely friendship, neither aware of the other's identity or the impact it has on their lives.  In Death of a Mad Hatter, London millinery mavens craft crowns for an Alice in Wonderland-themed tea party gone horribly wrong.  Lives are at stake there too -- literally.  Will the critic ever get a chance to show the restauranteur that he's as layered as that cake?  Will the mavens escape the melee with their hats and lives intact?  Although I already sensed the answers (I'm no Sherlock Holmes, but I do read a lot of fiction), what I most enjoyed were the journeys on the way to finding out for sure.  Because sometimes  -- okay, most of the time -- what I crave from reading is comfort.

And few things are more comfortable than cake.  

So to whoever first said that you can't have your cake and it eat it too, I say this: 

Shut your pie hole and swallow already.  

Animal Print Stint: A Very Merry Unbirthday to Me

Tights: Xhilaration, Target

As you know, I hit the big 4-Oh in the beginning of the month.  But the family party (okay, get-together, as there were a pod-approved nine of us) took place last weekend -- which gave me an excuse to celebrate all over again.  And if Alice and animal print don't say happy birthday month -- or merry unbirthday, to quote that wonderfully wacky Alice in Wonderland ditty -- then I don't know what does.

Socks, ? (they were a Christmas gift :) 

Skirt: Bubblegum, Macy's

Boots: Jessica Simpson Collection, Amazon

Sweater: Bar III, Macy's

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's

My parents pulled out all the stops, decking their house with pink decorations.  It was the best bash I could've hoped for, with all of my favorite people.  At one point we were covered in streamers, but I decided not to post any pictures of that.  I respect the privacy of others, if not my own.  

Anyway, it's a good thing we partied down last weekend, because this is what it's like out today:

There's fifteen inches of the white stuff here at the Jersey shore.  As always, I took it in from inside my window.  And then promptly hit the couch to watch TV, this time the pilot of ABC's new vineyard-set drama, Promised Land.  It's good; I raise a glass to it.

Even if what's in my glass is cinnamon apple tea.

Send in the Gowns: Three Ring Sumo Circus

Fabulous Felt Clown Barrettes

Dress: David's Bridal
Shoes: Guess, DSW
Bag: Xhilaration, Target
Sunglasses: Michaels

There are few things as paradoxically creepy-cute as clowns.  So, I thought it'd be fun to make some in barrette form this week -- and even more fun to clip their colorful, madcap mugs (which, according to the husband, bare a striking resemblance to Mr. Bill) to the uber sleek and formal bridesmaid dress I wore in my sister's wedding.  The result is a look that would make anyone the belle of the Barnum and Bailey ball, right down to the mismatched shoes a la Helena Bonham Carter, who, come to think of it, looks more than a little clownish in those Alice in Wonderland movies.  These triple clowns are large and in charge and come in a rainbow of seasonal colors, spanning the palettes of fall, spring, and summer.  But not winter, because winter's the worst (and also because no one wants to see Bozo go down in a toboggan).

Clowns aren't the only characters cartwheeling through my personal circus.  I'm also sweet on sumo wrestlers.  Or whatever it is that's circumnavigating this satin box kumbaya-style.  Maybe they're acrobats, strange and smiley in their bright leotards.

I got this box on a sixth grade class trip to some now-forgotten Egyptian museum.  It stood out among the stickers and tee shirts, beckoning me with its exotic glamour.  I've always loved unusual trinket boxes.  They're weird and they store stuff; what more could a kooky collector want?  Knowing this, my mother recently rescued this one from the attic.  I was thrilled.  Even if it smelled funny and had become a coffin for crunchy critters.  Also, the "wrestlers' " leotards had partially disintegrated, shamelessly exposing the crude gray stuffing of their shoulders and rumps.  But to me they still seemed magical, a band of homegrown superheroes (sorry, Sailor Moon ad Pokemon) that had battled the attic's wilderness to emerge (mostly) intact decades later.  Bravery like that deserves to be rewarded, which is why I embellished their poor exposed innards with rhinestones.  I think the winking gold and purple add an exciting new dimension to this already kitsch-tastic keepsake, and I look forward to enjoying it for years to come.

On that note, I can just see some snooty-accented "Antiques Roadshow" appraiser a hundred years from now, turning it around in his hands and murmuring, "Ah yes, a novelty piece most likely sold at a museum gift shop in the Northeast in the early to mid-1990s.  It's a pity it's been altered.  Although the rhinestones add a sense of whimsy, they'll significantly lower the value at auction."  This is the part where the caftannned Midwesterner who brought it in snatches it away in a tizzy, huffing, "It looks better next to my velvet Elvis!" before flouncing off to have another expert examine her set of Ronald McDonald drinking glasses.

From one clown to another, this ring's come full circle.

Rambling Roses and Loquacious Lilies

 Fabulous Felt Girly Garden Necklace

Top: So, Kohl's

Skirt: Candie's, Kohl's

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's

 Ruby Rose Necklace

Jacket: Material Girl, Macy's

Tank: Worthington, JCPenney

Skirt: Candie's, Kohl's

Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's

Bag: Nine West, ROSS Dress for Less

Scarf: Wet Seal

 Flora's Flowers Necklace

Dress: Modcloth

Shoes: Candie's, Kohl's

Bag: Old Navy

 Fabulous Felt Bunch of Blooms Brooch

Dress: Modcloth

Shoes: City Streets, JCPenney

Bag: Journeys

Scarf: Marshalls

  Fiona's Flowers Necklace

Tank: Rewind, Kohl's

Jeans: Sears

Shoes: Bongo, Kohl's

Bag: Loop, Marshalls

There are no lilies entwined within the felted foliage of these pieces.  But I wasn't about to let a detail like that stop me from vaunting my vocabulary.  I love adjectives, and I've always found "loquacious" to be an especially glamorous-sounding one.  It makes me think of beaded gowns and feather fans and, for some inexplicable reason, flamingos.  At any rate, it lends more dignity than "You Grow, Girl!", which was the runner-up for this week's post title.  It's also fitting, as these bejeweled blooms have as much to say as the wonderfully whimsical ones that mouthed off in the 1985, made-for-TV version of "Alice in Wonderland."  I know this because I had a childhood obsession with the campy classic, which now resides on my DVD shelf between View from the Top and the first season of "Girls."  That's fitting too, as it's right smack-dab-in-the-middle of fairy tale and horror.  Watch Carol Channing morph into a sheep just once and you'll know what I mean.             

Some Cool Prints I Bought From Another EtsyNJ Artist

Not too long ago I purchased these prints from Art by Sarada. Sarada's work features colorful witches and other fantasy figures, and as a fan of that genre I became instantly hooked. I was particularly struck by Alice Dreaming. I was obsessed with Alice in Wonderland as a kid. (Just ask my sister; I made her watch our recording of the TV miniseries version far too many times.) Anyway, if you like this sort of thing, then you should stop by Sarada's shop.