I love...past homes.

They say: "Home is where the heart is". Sometimes I think it's nice to remember where your heart has been.

Yesterday I went to a friend's house for a late brunch. It was a lovely afternoon of wine, lasagna and cannoli, while myself and four girlfriends caught up on everything from backaches to boys to babies. My friend lives on the east side of town and while driving home I couldn't help but slow down as I passed my old apartment on Mayfield Road. I looked to see if anyone was out on the balcony or if the balcony was decorated or if there was an "I miss you, Jenny" sign hanging from the railing. It looked pretty quiet there though.

It got me to thinking about past living spaces - past homes - and how I can't help but be reminiscent when I'm near them.

Take this apartment on Mayfield, where I spent about four years of my life and met some of my best friends. It was there that I realized it was possible to miss central air as I spent several summers melting into my sofa. I cried in that apartment, I laughed in that apartment, I continued my non-cooking streak in that apartment. The back fire escape stairs are where I spent several weeks being terrorized by a mysterious raccoon who would climb up and down them while leaving trails of garbage behind him, until the day I actually saw him teetering on the tiny rung of a ladder to the roof and I nearly fell down the stairs as I tried to escape the situation. Sure, I've moved out of and moved on from that apartment, but my heart will always remember how it felt to live there.

Whenever I'm back at Bowling Green State University I of course feel a little reminiscent when I pass my old dorms and apartments. The memories of late nights, parties, new friends, walking back and forth to classes, and getting in trouble for being too loud while playing "would you rather" seem like both forever ago and just yesterday.

Then there is the first home that I lived in while growing up (well, officially it was my second home, but we moved in there before I was one year old, so I'll call it the first home I remember). It was in a development in Strongsville, Ohio, tucked back on a cul-de-sac. It was where I spent nearly 18 years of my life growing up with my two older sisters and my parents. I learned to walk in that house, I learned to ride my bike in front of that house. I decorated Christmas cookies and Easter eggs in that kitchen. I played Barbies and had countless sleepovers while staying up too late watching scary movies in that basement. We have family pictures standing in front of the fireplace in that living room and home movies on the back deck of everything from graduation days, to proms, to when my sisters and I just wanted to test out the new video camera after school. When we moved out of that house the summer after my first year in college I went into my bedroom closet and drew a small heart with a little note as high as I could in one of the corners, with the hope that the new owners would never find it and there'd forever be a mark of me in that house. Since we moved, I still have reasons to drive through Strongsville and when I do I try to allow some extra time to drive by that old house. It's now been painted blue (used to be tan) and the wooden tree fences that used to line the edge of the driveway have been ripped up (which our friends hated when they first got their licenses and had to carefully back out of the driveway) and I know that most of the neighbors I grew up with have since left as well. But even with those changes it still feels the same when I'm in front of it. It still feels like the place that my parents, sisters and I grew into our family and it's still the place where I started on the path to become who I am today. I imagine my little drawing still intact in the closet as if saying "Jenny's heart was here".

As I type this I am sitting on the balcony of my current apartment - my current home. Years from now I'm sure I'll pass by here and remember the stories of what happened in my life while I lived here. And now I'll remember this moment of sitting on my balcony remembering all my past homes - all the places my heart has been.

I love...Christmas.

You've probably been thinking: "What did Jenny do for Christmas this year?!"
Well, relax, I'll tell you.

The long holiday weekend started early, with me being sick. Thursday I woke up not felling well. I'll spare you all the details, but I spent some quality time with my bathroom that morning. I then proceeded to sleep...all day. Not exactly sure what was wrong, but I didn't get my appetite back until Saturday evening, so I have decided to call it a "Christmas Diet"!

After a long Thursday nap I was feeling well enough on Friday to venture out and finish my Christmas shopping. I visited Room Service in Ohio City, the new shops on East 4th Street and Big Fun in Lakewood. Then I stopped by the grocery store to pick up ingredients for a dip I wanted to take to a Christmas party that evening. The recipe included cream cheese and pepper jelly relish all mixed together in one bowl of yumminess. However, I blanked on the ratio of relish to cream cheese, so once I mixed it together it came out bright pink. And I mean pink as in Pepto-Bismol pink. Or as in kinda scary looking to eat with a cracker pink. I was running late, so decided to still take the dip and hope for the best. The party was a great time. It was a gathering of the Hunt Club Pool Rats - a group I managed to sneak my way into during college when I met my good friend Rachel (aka: Moose). She brought me around enough that the Hunt Club friends she grew up with couldn't get rid of me. I should also note that one of the Pool Rats, Ryan, managed to earn 1,000 From Chalk With Love bonus points by mentioning my blog a gazillion times throughout the night.

I then spent Saturday-Monday in Columbus where my sister Susan and her family live. The rest of my family met up there for the weekend, too. We laughed. We ate. We rationed Great Lakes Christmas Ales. My dad made some repairs to my slowly dying car. My 2-year old niece taught me that the word "mine" can be used to answer just about any question. And I was given the new nickname of "butter pockets" (I can't remember exactly why, but it was funny).

For Christmas I got several great items, including a crockpot and pink leopard print mixing bowls that I'm sure I'll eventually use while wearing my apron. I got Tina Fey's book "Bossypants", which I've heard a lot of good things about and can't wait to dig into. I also got Shel Silverstein's newly released book "Every Thing On It", and as I've previously stated - I love Shel Silverstein - so this was especially exciting.

All in all, it was a great weekend (minus the opening Thursday sick-nap scene). I hope you all had a great holiday weekend, too!

Now that the Christmas weekend is over it's time to focus on planning a 2012 NYE celebration for this weekend! I know I'll be with some good friends downtown, but need to pick the place(s), the props (like last year's drink hangers), and the outfit.

Are you ready, 2012?

I love...old sweatshirts.

Want to know what I'm wearing?

A sweatshirt.

Not just any sweatshirt - it's a sweatshirt that I've owned since my freshman year of college. I got it when I went for orientation. It's gray with large letters on the front that read: BGSU. It was my first "I'm in college" clothing item.

This sweatshirt has been with me through a lot. I wore it to class. I wore it when I didn't go to class. I wore it to bed. I wore it on walks. I wore it when I was sick. I wore it inside out and outside in.

Today the sleeve hems are torn, it's faded, there's a slight hand print in white paint on the back of it and small pen marks on the front of it.

Other sweatshirts have come and gone. But this one has managed to make it through all of my moves and my closet cleanouts.

I know there's more to this sweatshirt than the cloth that it's made of. There are the moments that happened when I was wearing it. Like the moment my friend put her painted hand print on the back of it (ahem, moose...), and the moment I accidentally marked it for the first time with pen (...and then marked it a second time).

There's a lot of warmth, a lot of comfort and a lot of memories wrapped up in this old sweatshirt. And now, on a chilly Wedneday night more than 10 years after I first got this sweatshirt, I'm wrapped up in all of that, too. And it feels good, no great, no...it feels sweatshirtastic.

I love...leopard print.

My obsession with leopard print started in college.

First I got a leopard print purse. Then a tank top. Then it was my bed sheets and comforter. I found a leopard print dress that I wore for a birthday. Then I'd borrow my roommate's leopard print pants. I found some sweaters, a lamp shade, gloves, a scarf, an address book, jewelery, a cute winter hat...

Turns out you can find pretty much anything in leopard print.

Over time I have learned an important lesson about leopard print: Less is more. You don't need to wear a pair of leopard print gloves, hat, purse and jacket all at once. Try just the gloves. Or just carry the purse. Maybe just a jacket with some small leopard print detail.


Some of my original leopard print belongings are no longer with me, like my comforter that was outgrown by my bed. And my tank top that got old and worn. And my leopard print halter dress that I never should have owned (oh, did I not mention that it was a halter dress? um, yea...college?). Then other items have been updated, like my original purse that was given away and eventually replaced with a small leopard print clutch. Or my scarf that I eventually lost and replaced with a new leopard print scarf.

Tonight as I changed my clothes before heading over to a friend's house for dinner, I realized the weather had gotten just chilly enough to wear my comfy, leopard print sweater. This reminded me of another lesson I've learned about leopard print: Every day should have a little bit of leopard print in it.

I hope your day is full of love, laughter and just the right amount of leopard print!