Butter and brown sugar. Need I say more?

Do you want to know something? I've never browned butter before. I know! Actually, I'm not sure it's all that common a thing to do. Does everyone just sit around browning butter? If not, they should! The aroma is amazing.

I made Smitten Kitchen's brown butter brown sugar shorties on Sunday. I couldn't wait. As soon as I saw the ingredients, there was no holding me back. I love butter and brown sugar more than anything. My obsession with this duo is quite unhealthy. But it's fantastic.

My all time favorite candy from See's is a rich chocolate-drenched buttery brown-sugary concoction that I can't get enough of. The only problem with buying them is that I don't stop after a couple. I walk out with many other delicious chocolates that neither I, nor my hips, need. It's a real tragedy, I tell you.

And I made this brown sugar candy recipe on my birthday. Oh mama. I ate it all. By myself. Then cried on my husband's shoulder. "I have a problem!" I wailed. He patted my head and tried to console me and very comfortingly said, "yes, you do."

I can't help it. The flavor of these two amazing ingredients melding together is pure bliss.

That is all.

How many times can she say "Christmas lights" in one post?

I take a lot of pictures, always have, and I find it kind of odd that I don't have a single photo of Christmas lights from last year. I don't know. It just seems... odd. I can't wrap my brain around it. It's not like they went missing either, because, somehow, I can clearly remember just not taking any.

And, yes, I realize I'm rambling, but I can't help it. It's odd, I tell you. Odd. I love Christmas. I love Christmas lights! Why didn't I want to capture a single image of them?

This is clearly going to disturb me for a long time.

Last night, the Husband and I took a drive to find (wait for it) Christmas lights! (We haven't put ours up yet and, besides, our apartment building is pure concrete and just you try nailing them up.)

I know it's still the beginning of December, but we were disappointed by the lack of really great decorations.

The following photos are pretty terrible, but hey, I obviously have no previous experience taking pictures of Christmas lights (WHY!?) so I'm still testing my settings in this particular shitsituation. Hopefully, they'll improve by the time Christmas rolls around. Which means, lucky readers reader, that you'll get to witness my many, many attempts at photographing Christmas lights!

Before we go any further, can I just point out that there, in the bottom right corner, is the roof of a house and that tree of lights was ginormous! These same people had also strung lights on palm trees. Very tall palm trees. And, yes, they're obviously from Minnesota crazy.

I was trying some different things here, with these lights. I wasn't sure which I'd like better, the lights kind of blurred out like above or very twinkly like this one:

I think I'm leaning towards the latter. Although, there's something fun about those blurry balls of color that I keep coming back to. And, well, something almost romantic about those starry twinkles.

What do you think?

On a side note, we drove into Huntington Beach and found my dream home. I'll be moving in as soon as the current owners realize they've been wanting to move out and decide to give away their home to two very broke deserving individuals.

Boat included.

Someone "up there" was having a good laugh at my expense.

Several days ago, I witnessed the most incredible sunset on my way home. Seriously. Incredible.

During the winter, the sun is always setting as I leave work. Most of the time it's pretty. Sometimes it's breathtaking. On that particular night it was heartbreaking. Did I mention I'm a complete sucker for a pink sky? Well, this one? Was not only pink, but purple and blue and orange and an amazing rainbow of clouds awash with color.

I think I nearly collided with the car in front of me no less than eight times while I was staring at the sky instead of at the road.

Watching the road while driving actually helps. That's just a little tip from me to you.

So, there I was, staring at the sky and punching myself in the face for being an idiot not having my camera. What would I have done if I'd had it? I'm not sure. Pulled over? (On the side of the 55 during rush hour? I'm not suicidal.) Tried to shoot and drive at the same time? (See above comment about watching the road.) (On a side note, would that be considered a drive-by shooting?)

I arrived home a failure. The brilliant colors had, of course, faded to gray in the five minutes it took me to get there.

I had hope, a lot of hope, that I might witness another spectacular sky (what are the chances, right?), so I grabbed my camera on my way out the next morning.

At four-thirty that afternoon, I wandered outside. It was cloudy (we were expecting rain that night), but the sun wasn't completely shut out. I caught a glimpse of color behind the hotel and, in a hopeful rush, hurried up to the nineteenth floor.

Had the sun been able to escape those clouds and shine some light and color upon them, I would have had the best seat in the house. Clearly.

But, it was not meant to be.

Stupid clouds.

Well, a tiny sliver of ocean, but still... ocean.

And it's only Thursday.

It's been quite a week since we returned from Utah.

I'd get into it, except I'm exhausted. And the thought of rehashing it here, well... someone give me a gun.

This is my baby brother. He was named after Brad Pitt's character in Legends of the Fall. And the first person to give the correct answer wins a million dollars!! a big hug from yours truly.

Hello? Anyone?

I especially love this picture because it so perfectly showcases that thing on his head that he calls "hair" and I call a "rat's nest."

And I thought I had unruly hair. I got nuthin' on this kid.

I always wonder what's in store for this brother when he's "all growns up." He's got Asperger's syndrome and ADHD and is totally anti-social (even worse than me). He's the sweetest kid, and yet sometimes you can't help but want to scream. See, he's got this really nifty I-can-make-you-crazy-in-five-seconds-flat mechanism. And it never fails.

Since I went and made reference to it, I couldn't help but YouTube some classic scenes from Swingers and if you haven't seen this movie, please crawl out from under the rock and add it to your Netflix queue. You'll thank me.

Or maybe you won't.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTPxEwfNTJc&hl=]

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ODjE-_OB3JI&hl=]

Anyone else craving cotton candy?

Once in a while the sun, the clouds, and even the horrible smog decide to work together to make me happy.

I love stepping outside my front door to a sunset like this, with vibrant pinks streaking across the sky. I only wish all the other crap, the random buildings and car dealerships, would get the hell out of my way.

About a week ago, on my drive home, I watched the most amazing colors light up the sky. It was like no other sunset I had ever seen before. I, being the world's most unprepared wannabe-photographer, didn't have my camera. I was devastated.

I'd totally try to recreate the image on canvas, but with my complete lack of any artistic ability, it'd end up looking like I'd just taken a spin on the Gravitron after eating more than my fair share of cotton candy.

The Gravitron is the only carnival ride to ever make me ill.

You're not craving cotton candy anymore, are you?

I can sum up my Thanksgiving in eighteen million photos.

Give or take a few million.

Thanksgiving, for the Husband and me, started Wednesday afternoon with a mad scramble to get packed, feed the cats, grab a pillow for the road, get the booze in the car, get the car washed, the gas tank filled and get on the highway before traffic got bad.

We still sat in traffic for the rest of our lives. At least, that's what it felt like. In real time? Eight hours.

But at least it was pretty. I stayed somewhat nauseous for most of it.

We arrived in southern Utah sometime after ten. We got checked in and pretty much crashed. The Husband, who made the smart decision to save his marriage and spend Thanksgiving with me, was coming down with a bad cold. I, of course, picked a fight with him. But it was totally his fault.

He stayed in bed for most of the morning on Thursday while the rest of us (my mom, J, my two younger brothers, and myself) packed up and headed to my sister's house to start feasting.

I've never enjoyed the strict planning that some people strive for in a Thanksgiving meal. I'm not all about getting up at stupid o'clock in the morning to get a turkey in the oven and "we'll be eating at two pm sharp."

I think the turkey went in sometime around nine or ten. Everyone helped with the stuffing and by "helped" I mean we stood around my mother while she made it and sampled and sampled some more until we finally told her it was perfect. Well, I told her it was still too dry, but did anybody listen? Of course not. And what was the one complaint about the stuffing as we inhaled our dinner? It was dry.

The Husband eventually dragged his sorry, sniffling butt over to join us for dinner. He was feeling pretty good after a big meal and several screwdrivers.

And this? This is my brother, Travis, who just recently turned twenty-one. This is what happens after a big meal, many beers, and many glasses of your older sister's toxic powerful Sangria. Which was fabulous if I do say so myself.

We, of course, took merciless advantage of the fact that he passed out on the sofa in a room full of incredibly loud half-drunk Charade-playing fools family members.

I know. Man feet. Hairy man feet. Gross.

On Friday morning, it was Bailey's and coffee for breakfast. And many Almond Rocas.

I have no idea when a gigantic tin of Almond Roca became a tradition, but I don't ask questions. I just enjoy. And it's okay! Calories don't count on holidays. Or on days after holidays.

We went shopping in the early afternoon. My favorite clothing store is located near my sister and I try to make it a point to go whenever I visit.

We also stopped at Target where I bought the first three seasons of House. I'm sorry, I love that man show.

When we got home, our feet sore and our backs aching, us womenfolk gathered around the table for the traditional game of Let's Start a Fight.

And there was pie involved. Glorious pie.

This is the Caramel Pecan Pumpkin Pie I found in my old Better Homes cookbook. It was fantastic. And beautiful. And, yes, I piled on a mountain of homemade whip cream, because homemade whip cream is the best thing ever.

And this is my older sister, T. She's amazing. And she hosted the entire Thanksgiving event. Which means that, in addition to cooking the turkey, she simultaneously secured her place in Heaven.

People are supposed to be depressed on the holidays, right?

There was always a big family gathering for the holidays while I was growing up. The fact that most of the family didn't exactly like each other (long story) made said holidays interesting. To say the least.

I remember escaping to my room a lot, not necessarily because I wasn't having fun, but because, at fourteen, that's what teenagers do. Especially teenagers who experience anxiety around large groups of people they're not familiar with. (I still don't like large groups of people I'm not familiar with.) And my bedroom was amazing. Seriously. I wish I had a picture to show you.

But I digress. Loud family gatherings were the norm for us. Then I turned eighteen. Alcoholism, my parent's divorce, a lot of anger and not talking to my parents for two years, and those family holidays kind of fell to the wayside.

I also moved up north with my then boyfriend and since we both worked in the hospitality industry, it wasn't easy to get away for the holidays. We stayed home for most of them and I tried to cook. ("Try" being the operative word. Thankfully, I've gotten much better with practice. My stuffing? Really good.)

Eventually, I started talking to my parents again. Jon and I moved back to the area, and, in the last two years, we were each given the opportunity to work normal people hours.

Suddenly we had holidays off. We were able to make plans. I didn't have to worry that I might be scheduled to work on Christmas morning and how would I survive if I didn't get to wake up and open presents and start eating chocolate at seven in the morning?! (Yes, I realize Christmas is more important than presents and chocolate.)

Our first order of business was Thanksgiving in Utah, where my older sister and her family had begun hosting Thanksgiving dinner years earlier. Last year was the first that the Husband and I were able to attend.

And let me just say this wasn't like the family holidays from my childhood. This was fun. Everyone got along and drank and ate to their heart's content. We played games and fought over scrabble. It was awesome.

Needless to say, I've been looking forward to going back since we drove away last year. And, in the past few days, my excitement has grown and grown and grown. I'm likely to burst by the time Wednesday rolls around.

But, of course, last night, the other shoe dropped. Turns out that my father-in-law and his brother have planned a last minute party for their mother's (Jon's Grandmother's) 85th birthday. In Minnesota. For the DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING.

I said, "You can't be serious." Oh, but they were, Internet, and now I don't know who to be mad at, which may be the most frustrating part. Maybe Jon? For considering going. Or his Dad for planning this at the last possible moment after everyone has already made plans. Or how about his Grandmother for turning eight-five on the wrong day? I know! It's all completely unreasonable. I get that.

Jon said, "I'll fly out of Las Vegas Friday morning, so at least I'll be there for Thanksgiving."

But it's not the same. It's not about Thanksgiving, it's about the two of us spending time with my family, celebrating, being together. It's a three-day event. Eating, eating, eating on Thursday, shopping and more eating on Friday, spending as much time together (eating) as we can on Saturday before we drive back home that night.

The thought of being there on my own while he flies off to Minnesota makes me want to cry. I don't want to be the "supportive wife" here. I want to stomp my foot and demand that he do as I say. It's too last minute. We can't afford it. WE ALREADY HAVE PLANS.

But I've encouraged him to go. Because I don't want him to resent me. And now I'm depressed.

Besides, this means I'll have to partner with my Grandmother for charades and I don't have nearly enough wine.

I realize this makes me insane.

On Wednesday, the Husband and I will lose our minds and decide to leave town along with thousands of other people who have also made that same decision.

Together, with our new found thousands of friends, we'll sit on the 91 freeway for eight hours to drive a total of six miles. Sometime Friday, we'll all reach our destination. Tired, crabby, and hungry.

Okay, I exaggerate. But not by much.

We're heading north-ish to my sister's for Thanksgiving and it will take us nearly double the normal amount of time.

My responsibilities this year include booze and desserts. My two favorite things.

The booze was easy. Say hello to our good friend Two Buck Chuck.

The desserts on the other hand... well, I think I went a little insane. Unless you think six pies and a chocolate mousse are not enough for fourteen people? If each pie cuts eight slices and everyone eats an equal amount, that's 3.42 slices per person. Hmm. Should I make it eight? I kid!

On the menu? Two pumpkin pies (necessary), two apple pies (a must), a pecan pie (does anyone even eat pecan?) and a caramel pecan pumpkin pie that sounded too interesting to pass up.

And I'm afraid this is the moment you'll realize how insane I actually am because I decided to prepare the dry ingredients ahead of time. See, I'm working today, on a Sunday of all days, and we're leaving from my office on Wednesday. I want to be prepared, damn it.

(Can we just pause for a moment to appreciate the beauty of all these different spices?)

I was seriously debating whether or not to share the following photos. Please don't mock me.

After all the dry ingredients were mixed, I bagged them up into very specifically labeled Ziploc bags. Those above are for the two apple pies alone. Two small bags contain the cinnamon/sugar mixture that will do a dance with the apples, two more contain the flour and brown sugar for the crumb topping, and three bags contain the ingredients to make six pie crusts.

Then all the ingredients for each pie went into a larger Ziploc bag, minus the perishables which will remain in the fridge until we leave and pack them in a cooler. All I'll have to do when I get there is mix the dry with the wet and bake. Oh, and roll out pie crusts, which is something I detest, so I'll have to talk one of the many persons younger than me into doing it instead.

Maybe this level of organization would send some people running for the hills, but I just saved myself a good two hours that can be spent doing better things. Like, hello!! Eating? It's Thanksgiving for crying out loud!