Farmers' Market in Oceanside

When I woke up yesterday morning, I didn't feel healthy. When I don't feel well I usually try to find something in my cupboards to make me feel better. Yesterday, we had nothing. No healthy food, no milk, no vegetables, no bread.

I decided I needed to change that. I jumped in the shower, threw on some clothes and hopped in the car. I knew where I could find some good eats, the Oceanside Farmers' Market. Every Thursday morning, the city blocks off a section of street next to City Hall.

It's a small but well stocked farmers' market. There's a fish monger, people selling handmade wares and always quite a few vendors with beautiful flowers. The bouquets previewed the season with rich autumnal palettes.

They were pretty and tempting, but I wasn't at the market for flowers. I went searching for color in other places, like this vegetable stand. I bought two bunches of the beets. I can't wait to cook them tonight.

I also picked up some swiss chard that I think I'll wilt with some garlic.

I had my evening menu all planned, but my neighbor stopped by and invited us to the nighttime version of the Farmers' Market. It's more food related than the morning event. There were interestingly exciting booths, like Kebabistan

and Animal Pretzels. (?)

As good as those sounded, we enjoyed some (maybe not the healthiest) lobster bisque while we listened to the band and hung out with our new friends.

Happy Birthday Emily

It's here! Finally my calendar is correct!

Today is new mum Emily's birthday! (Is she going by mum or mom?) Enjoy your day!

Pink

It takes every ounce of my being not to write the title to this post as, PINK! PINK! PINK!!!!!!. I love pink. I think it is just so exciting. I don't know where this obsession came from or what day it began. I didn't even realize I liked pink as much as I did until I received some hot pink kitchen trays from my mother-in-law one Christmas. I remember being dumbfounded as to why she chose pink trays for me as opposed to any other color of the rainbow. She simply said, "Because you love pink."

I didn't argue with her. But that day has always stuck out in my mind as the day I realized that I do, I love pink. It's insanity.

Alright, maybe it's my purse collection that's insanity, but I love the pink backdrop Thomas chose for my wall of purses. If I could, I would use pink in every room of the house. But since there's a man that lives here I stretch my color palette and discover pink other places in the world, like this sunset in La Jolla last evening,

the fuschia from our wedding,

and the Lola's slurping tongue.

Black

I love the simplicity of black. A tiny bit of black goes a long way. It just makes the perfect statement. Dark hues like navy blue or chocolate brown are trendy, but black will always be with us.

As a designer I spend a lot of time looking at black text on white pages. Well organized magazines or books are like heaven to me. My first graphic design job was as a paste-up artist at a local newspaper. What that means is that the editors would send their articles to the laser printer, I would cut them out and then I would run each headline, article, photograph and advertisement through a wax machine and stick it in the proper place on a newspaper sized sheet of blueline paper. (Click here for a more in depth explanation of this thrilling profession.) Everything had to be straight and precise. Of course, that didn't always happen. Sometimes the photo caption would get cockeyed, or the byline would be on the wrong article.

I love to read old newspapers or cookbooks and find tiny mistakes like this. There's something romantic about realizing someone's hands made this page instead of a sleek computer pagination system.

I know you can't stop staring at Ann Landers' awesome hairdo but please, let's get back on task. See how the right hand column is wandering off. I think these little discoveries are charming.

I also love, as you saw in my orange post, vintage cookbooks. I have a collection from my grandmother. A lot of them are produced by local women's groups my mom belonged to. I can flip through these books and find recipes, even though there's no pretty pictures, because they're organized. Not overdone with big type and lots of colors on glossy paper.

This one from 1969 was churned out on a typewriter, but it's clear and concise. And why didn't my mom ever make those beets for me?

Even going forward a few years, they moved on to a trendy font but kept the organization clean. Ooh, and look, let men submit recipes in 1975. Of course my dad chose an alcoholic party punch with a floating ice ring.

Apparently at the end of the night when the punch was all gone my dad mistakingly fed the dog the alcohol saturated ice ring. The dog staggered around howling all night long.

My dogs have never been drunk. They may act like drunk college kids running all over the place and barking unnecessarily (or was it high school that we barked at people?) But I digress!

Henry and Lola are beautiful dogs and look stunning in black and white. I think black and white photographs almost style themselves.

With the right composition and lots of contrast, you can present the subject as they are. Lola is beautiful and poised, Henry is playful, soulful and insane.

Brown

Brown is everywhere you turn. The dining room table, your favorite shoes and the kitchen cabinets. It's everywhere I turn, because every time I turn around I have two brown things at my feet.

Brown has never been a color that is in my usual palette. I didn't realize how much there was until I deliberately looked for it. From my two dogs, my freckles and my shaggy brunette husband I am constantly surrounded by brown.

Every morning I saunter into the kitchen, put on the kettle and prepare tea or coffee for us. It's my favorite routine of the day. The house is quiet and cool and then I get a warm reward that I hug with my hands until my brain wakes up.

I often spend this time puttering about the kitchen and watching the tea or coffee steep. I gather the milk and sugar, pour my drink and add the milk slowly. I watch the white milk blend with the darkness in the mug making the coffee lighter and lighter.

Thomas found these mugs, labeled on the inside with color matching chips so even bleary eyed you are assured the perfect ratio of milk to coffee. I'm secretly hoping for one for Christmas, but sadly I think they're only available in London.

After coffee I can begin to function a bit more clearly. On a lazy weekend I like to pull out my Grandma's waffle maker and get cooking. It's wonderfully tan accented with brown trim and flowers.

It always makes perfectly golden brown waffles that I serve with bananas and glossy maple syrup. Mmm.

Then the projects of the day begin and two smaller beings are awake and following my every move.