1. Place a small piece of double-sided tape between bottom “seams” of the java jacket. Press together. Now you have a flat “pocket.”

2. Place another piece of double-sided tape on the back of java jacket “pocket,” and press into birthday card.

3. Place coffee gift card in pocket. (If card slides around, use a tiny piece of double-sided tape on back of gift card to keep in place)

4. Gift your happy, caffeinated, amazed friend.

And you didn’t think you were crafty. Feel like getting crazy? Like using a hole punch? Try the pretty-pretty version.

Punch two holes in top of java jacket. Pull ribbon through. Tie bow. Pretty!

Sparkly version? Use decorative stick-on gems.

And there we have it. A no-craft craft that reuses, reduces, recycles, and keeps your caffeinated friends happy.

Why would I bother doing this? For what it’s worth, I support our local coffee shops and drink many a cappuccino there. But I like that frothy Starbucks froth, and enjoy it on occasion. Now and then.

It’s not like I have a problem or anything.

The Center of Everything [originally posted July 2, 2009.]

It’s been a month since Josie’s bat mitzvah, and looking at photos now with a better-rested and less tearful eye, it’s hard to believe we did all that. But we did, and at least one part of it merits a closer how-to look.

Centerpieces. We planned 16 tables of adults at our party (some 60 kids ran loose in the Dogg Pound, see here) and all of them would need centerpieces. We did not want flowers for our dog-themed bash, nor floating candles or exploding fountains. We wanted something funky and handmade that reflected Josie (since we could not stand her atop each table) and was not, in my vague notion, a “regular centerpiece.” I sketched stuff for weeks.

On receipts and memos and envelopes, I sketched centerpiece ideas: dog houses from boxes, with dog photos on sticks, and paw prints, and boingy silver things and metallic shreds. All the ideas seemed to require mass materials – styrofroam blocks, cardboard boxes, spray paints, photographs, disco balls. About two weeks before the party, we thought we had a winner. Me, Greg, and our friend Korrin – an OCD crafter and all-around good sport – huddled at the third floor craft table, each trying to make a prototype work. But they would not work; the boxes were too big, the paper too thin, sticks toppled off. Korrin got a headache, and left. Greg saw something in my eye he’d seen before, and left. Alone at midnight and surrounded by crumpled silver shreds, I had a short but weepy pity party, followed by a hearty round of why-the-hell-am-I-doing-this. Still, I’d made tea and the house was quiet, so I sat down fresh at the table, switched on the HBO show “In Treatment,” and started doodling again. By now I hated the failed ideas – so tacky, overblown, “regular.” Why did we need so much stuff? Could we create something but not take anything home? Forty-five soothing, Gabriel Byrne-filled minutes later, an answer:

We would build a small tower of items from the Lawrence Humane Society’s wish list – pedestrian stuff like paper towels and dog food, but exactly right for Josie, who volunteers there, and reusable to its core. Applying wedding cake logic, I sprayed cardboard cake rounds silver, and used them to separate and stabilize layers. The paper towels were bound, cake-style, with paper and ribbon. We could donate the towel rolls and dog food, recycle the paper and cake boards, and reuse all the ribbons. Only the balloon toppers were a one-night stand – but they were lovely.

Whether you’re throwing a big event or a cozy party, I urge you to try reuse/recycle decorations. Our guests appreciated both their funky “found-art” looks and the care behind them. Plus, you don’t need to be an artist or a serious crafter to pull it off. Can we apply this idea to different events? Here’s a few to start:

Child’s birthday party: even for a small party at home, decorate with short stacks of give-able items, like toy trucks for a truck theme, stuffed animals, etc. Donate to a local homeless shelter, hospital, or social service group.

Garden party: make the stacks from terra cotta pots, seed packets and small plants. All can be given to guests for planting, or donated to a local community garden.

Pizza party: (Josie’s idea!) Use disposable pizza pans to separate “layers,” and stack with flour bags, cans of tomatoes or sauce, onions or canned olives. Top with fresh tomatoes. Donate all to a local shelter that cooks and serves hot meals.

Your ideas? Share them below and craft away.

“The Center of Everything?” The post title references a well-known Lawrence writer who, rather than mess with centerpieces, just produces great books.

On receipts and memos and envelopes, I sketched centerpiece ideas: dog houses from boxes, with dog photos on sticks, and paw prints, and boingy silver things and metallic shreds. All the ideas seemed to require mass materials – styrofroam blocks, cardboard boxes, spray paints, photographs, disco balls. About two weeks before the party, we thought we had a winner. Me, Greg, and our friend Korrin – an OCD crafter and all-around good sport – huddled at the third floor craft table, each trying to make a prototype work. But they would not work; the boxes were too big, the paper too thin, sticks toppled off. Korrin got a headache, and left. Greg saw something in my eye he’d seen before, and left. Alone at midnight and surrounded by crumpled silver shreds, I had a short but weepy pity party, followed by a hearty round of why-the-hell-am-I-doing-this. Still, I’d made tea and the house was quiet, so I sat down fresh at the table, switched on the HBO show “In Treatment,” and started doodling again. By now I hated the failed ideas – so tacky, overblown, “regular.” Why did we need so much stuff? Could we create something but not take anything home? Forty-five soothing, Gabriel Byrne-filled minutes later, an answer:

We would build a small tower of items from the Lawrence Humane Society’s wish list – pedestrian stuff like paper towels and dog food, but exactly right for Josie, who volunteers there, and reusable to its core. Applying wedding cake logic, I sprayed cardboard cake rounds silver, and used them to separate and stabilize layers. The paper towels were bound, cake-style, with paper and ribbon. We could donate the towel rolls and dog food, recycle the paper and cake boards, and reuse all the ribbons. Only the balloon toppers were a one-night stand – but they were lovely.

Whether you’re throwing a big event or a cozy party, I urge you to try reuse/recycle decorations. Our guests appreciated both their funky “found-art” looks and the care behind them. Plus, you don’t need to be an artist or a serious crafter to pull it off. Can we apply this idea to different events? Here’s a few to start:

Child’s birthday party: even for a small party at home, decorate with short stacks of give-able items, like toy trucks for a truck theme, stuffed animals, etc. Donate to a local homeless shelter, hospital, or social service group.

Garden party: make the stacks from terra cotta pots, seed packets and small plants. All can be given to guests for planting, or donated to a local community garden.

Pizza party: (Josie’s idea!) Use disposable pizza pans to separate “layers,” and stack with flour bags, cans of tomatoes or sauce, onions or canned olives. Top with fresh tomatoes. Donate all to a local shelter that cooks and serves hot meals.

Your ideas? Share them below and craft away.

“The Center of Everything?” The post title references a well-known Lawrence writer who, rather than mess with centerpieces, just produces great books.

What.

Oh, I’m sorry…the Bat Mitzvah. Were you waiting for news of the Bat Mitzvah?

Well, the full recap will have to wait, at least until I can form whole words again. Luckily, my waking zombie state still allows for posting pictures – so here’s a sampling of our totally crazy, wholly delicious, once-in-a-lifetime weekend; three days in which I’m certain the universe crammed more than 72 hours.

Friday night’s Welcome Dinner featured sunflowers & Jayhawks. Because it was Welcome. To Kansas.

Abe & Jake’s, a riverfront barbed wire factory in Lawrence, converted to a college dance bar. Before the horde arrived.

Notebook favors. In which the 13-year old guys wrote funny things to Josie, then crumpled pages and chucked them in the river. They are suave, the young ones.

A wacky place, like no other.

Vintage never-used restaurant bags, bought on Ebay. They just say woof, no?

Centerpieces constructed from items on the Lawrence Humane Society’s wish list, like paper towels and canned dog food. A little silver spray paint, a little wedding cake logic, and it all got donated in the end.

Girls really do just wanna have fun. Just ask that DJ.

Yes – you, too can cut 200 dog bone-shaped papers in one viewing of “Quantum of Solace.” But if you wish to stick them on a few hundred chocolates, you’ll also need double-sided tape, one daughter and one mother-in-law.

And here is the coolest girl in the world.  Her day began with brilliant Torah reading and a thoughtful speech, but finished in a dance whirl; such debonair young fellows, all beads and cheap sunglasses – who could ask for anything more?

Finally, an extra treat: my friend Melanie’s six-year old son Eli and my cousin Robin’s son Jordi rocked out on stage. For two straight hours. If you want to electrify your next bash, these are the dudes to call.

Dance Party! from imamelanie on Vimeo.


My Mom and Josie. There were also smoked chicken egg rolls, banana pudding and dipped pretzels, teen romance and one great big bar bill. A marvelous time.  We are thankful for our girl, and for the privilege of such a happy day.

Have a great weekend!

Well, bat mitzvah weekend – not a ceremony, not a party, a weekend – blasts off in just ten days. I kept thinking it was longer; someone would say, “wow, just a month now,” and I’d wave them off, no no, much longer. Plenty of time. Then Josie would say “three weeks!” and I’d laugh. Come now, it’s not. Then, a few days ago, a friend said “getting close, huh? Under two weeks.”

I said holy mother of kugel, you’re right. And after I stopped nail-biting and rocking in the corner, I came out swinging – and this is where I’ve been:

Buying candy and snacks and granola bars for guest bags. Punching holes in guest bags.

Ribboning guest bags.

Spray-painting 45 cake boards silver. By the time it was over, I resembled the victim of a Bond villain. Also, it’s a good thing I’m done having kids, because I now require an iron lung.

Uh – making liqueurs.

That’s right – making liqueurs. Orange Spice, Blackberry, and Lemon. I read somewhere that in the old country – and I don’t mean Chicago – families made their own to serve at celebrations. This rang a warm little bell in my heart, and the other night, smashing blackberries, funneling vodka, it felt good – part haute, part Hasid, part hillbilly. The bottles are taking a nice dark nap before their debut. I’ll let you know if we go blind.

I have also been here…

…and here…

…and everywhere.

Josie’s busy preparing for her big show, but at twelve-almost-thirteen, you won’t be shocked to hear she has limited attention. What attention she does have is saved for friends, who are endlessly fascinating, rather than mom, who’s looking to paste place cards. She cuts, she glues, she snacks on chocolate, she leaves and comes back. A friend calls and she leaves again. If she faces me for five minutes and appears to be listening for two, I’m happy.

Where I have not been is blogging. I fret about that, and if Josie happens to pass during fretting, she’ll say “whatever, Mom. Just say you’ll see them after the 30th, when you’ll give them the biggest, best post ever.”

“Really,” I say, “and who’s going to write it, you?”

But she’s gone in a hair swing – handful of gummi bears, phone at her ear. It’s me and a book bag, dropped on the floor.

This bat mitzvah thing – it’s a celebration of growing up, or at least thinking about growing up. And past the candy and trimmings, dinners and brunches, it’s all about a girl who doesn’t have the time right now – but someday, I know, she will.

She might think of dad measuring cardboard for candy boxes, and handing pieces to mom, and mom cutting and folding and wrapping in paw paper, for god’s sake. She’ll roll eyes and remember, it was crazy. They were crazy. She might also remember that it all happened because she was there, and had a special something, and we told her so every day.  By then it might make sense. Anyway, I like to think we’ve reserved a future moment – who wouldn’t want a gift-wrapped, stashed-away spark?

A girl so special she gets the glittery place card.

Who glued it? One of us who’s not on the phone, that’s who. But the other one, she of the rolling eyes and socks on the floor – thinking about growing up is hard. She deserves it.

Jean, spoiling that kid.

Friday, 4:30 pm: In a blinding show of supermarket strength, I improbably stick to my own advice – “never buy candy you like.”

I hate Milk Duds.

Friday, 4:45 pm: making pom-poms for Josie’s “Undead Zombie Cheerleader.” First, be sure to make a frantic, yelling stop at the grocery store about two hours before said costume is necessary.

At the store, pick up one black plastic tablecloth for $1.26. At home, rip it in half (Death’s not neat), then roll up each half tightly and secure the top with rubber bands. Use a scissors to slash up each pom-pom below the rubber band, then tie with orange ribbon and pull out all the strips to “fluff” them out.

And you’re ready to go! The Undead Pep Squad never looked so good.

Saturday: baking for the annual Blintz Brunch & Bake Sale on Sunday.

But what’s this? Early birthday present! Greg & Josie thoughtfully give me a new camera, which allows me to taken even closer close-ups of coffee cake, cherry filling and wet dog noses.

Saturday evening: off with friends to see Waitiki, a live South-Seas retro cocktail music spectacular at Lawrence’s historic Liberty Hall, complete with tiki bar drinks and not one but two onstage gongs. Amazing.

A show that managed to somehow be both mellow and wild, and all broadcast live on NPR. I ordered a “Shrunken Skull” cocktail, and given the large amount of rum vs. the dangerously small size of my brain, one was enough.  Rock on, forty-one year old.

Sunday morning: Josie waits tables at the Lawrence Jewish Community Center’s annual Blintz Brunch, an enormous community-wide event, a blintz-lover’s paradise and a politician’s hand-shaking dream. There were were plenty of them on hand, too – congressmen and state senators and school board members, all there to buy chocolate babkas, kiss a few babies and eat thousands of cheese blintzes. Greg and I took our traditional posts at the Bake Sale table.

Anything look familiar?

Monday morning: Bleary-eyed and full of sugar.  Look, it’s like we shared the whole weekend – and if we had, you’d also have my cold, and be hacking your lungs out right now over hot tea and roses and birthday cards.  I think what I’d really like is a gift-wrapped pot of chicken soup.

I leave you with the cool sounds of Waitiki – have a great week, don’t eat too much leftover candy and don’t forget to vote!

Evening update: Just look what Fedex brought from my dear pal Jean today, a veritable hodgepodge of gifty delight -

Now here’s a girl who knows me: stickers for the Anglophile, “M” cards for the paper freak and a vintage pear painting, for, you know, the pear-lover that I am.  Nothing like a birthday that keeps on giving!

If you haven’t yet checked out the brave women, dogs and babies in Jean’s Grey Gardens contest, it’s a must-see. Have a great weekend!

And oh, the food projects. Every kids’ activity involved seemed to turn string cheese into castles or candy bars into costumes. Why would they waste all that food, I’d demand to Josie, why? The poor thing would just flip pages and look at the ads, dreaming of forbidden processed cheese. With people starving, why do they need to pin lettuce into hats?

Well people, today I eat my words. Jean over at Renovation Therapy is hosting a Grey Gardens contest.* The Grey ladies are quite a sensation – but if you’re not familiar with Grey Gardens, it’s the true story of Big Edie and Little Edie Bouvier Beale, two Jackie O. cousins who lived out their splendiferous, manic days in a decrepit Hamptons mansion.

Big Edie and Little Edie Beale, going bats

Originally made famous in a 1975 documentary, their story was also told in a Broadway musical. For her contest, Jean asked everyone to get in touch with their inner Edie; for most people, this meant donning scarves and faux furs. At my house, we tried something different.

Little Edie wonders: will I ever get away?

Do not ask why I had to make edible Edies. It seemed like a stunning idea at the time,  but last night, as I draped apple peel-scarves and flattened bread into minks, it occurred to me that I was dressing eggs.

And the photo shoot. Had my neighbors peeped through the window at ten, they might have spied me posing and shooting two hard-boiled dames. Work with me, Edies!

I’ve always had a thing for eggs, perhaps due to a conspicuous lack of Easter. Plenty of eggs at Passover, but…different. Not so decorative. Thus when I first worked in bakeries and Easter rolled around, I was thrilled to join the party. I hit the bunny trail with a vengeance; my co-workers would look over and say oh, my…um…elaborate. Not all Easter cakes get flying rabbits and a working chocolate carousel.

With apologies to every family magazine that ever advocated graham cracker choo-choos, these are the materials I used for Edie Eggs:

two hard-boiled eggs
semi-sweet chocolate (glasses and eyes)
two yellow Skittles (brooches)
one pink Skittle (lips)
glittery sanding sugar (brooches)
three peppercorns (brooch)
three chocolate jimmies (brooch)
one corn husk (shirt)
corn silk (Big Edie’s hair)
one potato peel (collar)
one slice of Health Nut bread (mink)
one Granny Smith peel (turban)
one cherry tomato peel (lips)

So, I wasted all that food – surely someone will miss those Skittles – and now I’m not even sure they look like the Edies. More like a 1920s flapper and an egg-shaped Harry Potter, but whatever. A good time.

On to the contest:  If you’d like to see two adorable Edie dogs, one precious Edie baby, and several hilarious Edie adults, run over to Renovation Therapy and vote. And remember, don’t play with your food.

* contest over! Time for a new one, Jean.