We go together like hockey and brunch.

I said this wouldn’t become a wedding-planning blog. And it still won’t. However, besides recovering from bronchitis, I haven’t really done much of substance in the last week besides stumble upon our first wedding decor purchase.

An entire box of trading cards from the 1990 NHL season. If you know me at all, you know these are perfect.

I only have instagrammed shots. Sorry.

The entire box (well, minus a few packs) was only $10. D and I officially have 535 trading cards to use for various decor. It was fate. We were visiting my parents for the weekend to celebrate my grandmother’s 80th birthday, and were sitting on the deck early on Saturday talking about various things. D mentioned that it might be fun (and cheap) to get old hockey trading cards to use as our seating cards, and I immediately got on board. Later that day we walked by a sports collectible store and decided to check it out, finding a lone box of NHL cards amongst the piles of NBA and MLB ones.

My heart skipped a beat when I found Super Joe.

I’m sure the guy didn’t expect to sell the whole box, but there you go. Being the excitable person I am, I was sure to tell him we would be using them for our wedding (and that it was the first purchase for said occasion, to boot!), and he said he was happy they were going to “a good cause”. I’m not sure what a bad cause would be when it comes to buying trading cards, but there you go.

So, have you ever attended a hockey-themed brunch wedding? I haven’t, but it seems like I’ll be having one, and I’m pretty thrilled.

Now I just need to figure out how to get names and table numbers (well, table names, if we use NHL trophies as titles) onto such dark backgrounds. I’m thinking punching a hole in the top corner and threading in a ribbon with the text on it, or maybe using a label-maker font on white paper and neatly covering up the bottom half. We’ll see. I have time.



Guys, goats are adorable and cost-efficient.

The Congressional Cemetary in Washington, DC recently came to own a bit more land. The problem? It was overrun with poisonous plants. Instead of spending $10,000 to get professionals in there with pesticides, they brought in a bunch of goats.

Yup, goats.

Apparently they’ll only cost about 25 cents an hour and poisonous plants don’t harm their digestive system. So they sicced a bunch of goats on the lawn and they will clear 1.6 acres in a week.

Look at how happy this goat is to be eating plants a cemetary.

Good on you, goats. And to whichever creative government employee came up with that idea.

If you need to clear some poisonous land of your own, the company is called Eco-Goats.

Read more about this story over at Yahoo. Credit where credit due and all that.


Getting Lost in the New York Times Archives…

I know, it’s Friday, I should have another Writing in Transit post, but I’m having too much fun getting sucked into the black hole that is the New York Times Archives. Oops.

My graduate school, bless them, lets their alumni have full use of their archives as long as you contribute money to the alumni fund. If you donate $1 per year, you’re set. And I’m not sure if my love of history, vintage NYC and ephemera is as well documented as, say, my love of books, but it’s something I really enjoy getting lost in.

Also? I love a good mystery.

Yesterday one of my favorite blogs, Ephemeral New York, posted about some old New York phone exchanges, including one for an elevator company that went unnamed. Without a name, one can’t figure out if the “JU” in the phone number is for Manhattan or Queens.


The photo/phone number in question (via Ephemeral New York).

In the history of all of the world’s mysteries, this one isn’t particularly intriguing. But still, it’s unsolved. And I hadn’t taken a dive into any old newspaper archives recently either, so the hunt was on. Thank you, Baruch, for having access to New York Times archives from 1851 through the present day.

Many, many classified ads later, my search results haven’t given me the answer, but I’ll spend a little bit more time on it. I did find this gem though:


Brooklyn rental listings from January 1958.

My current neighborhood had spacious, five room apartments for $155 a month. How nice for them. I currently have 3 distinct rooms, one open space in between my bedroom and hallway, and a kitchen that two people can hardly stand in at the same time, and I pay…well, let’s just say I pay a lot more than that.

Whatever, I can’t be mad. Inflation, cost of living, blah blah. I can’t even be mad that Brooklyn Heights apartments were going for $110! I hope those apartments went to some good folks.

Isn’t perusing this stuff a great way to pass the time? No? Yeah, I know, I guess I have some strange hobbies.

Ask and Ye Shall Receive

I’m really lucky.

I probably don’t say that often enough, but I am. My family on both sides is extremely close, and even though we have our differences (political, religious, cough cough), we genuinely care for each other. I am so thankful for that. I talk a big game about moving to Denver or wherever the hell else, and I probably will some day, but for now I love being so nearby.

Anyway. There is a point to that brief gushfest, I promise.

On Easter, the beau and I spent the day with my family. We had to cut our visit short so we could run back to Brooklyn to clean our new apartment in preparation for moving the next day, but we got in a few good hours, and plenty of good food. While we were all sitting around talking, I casually mentioned that after going to the St. Patrick’s Day parade, I had major Irish sweater envy. There were so many nice ones there! When I went to Ireland a few years ago I bought a nice Aran shawl, but I wanted a sweater. Something with sleeves.

Then, my mom said something marvelous (I swear, the angels started singing): “Oh, I think your aunt had asked us a few months ago if we wanted an Irish sweater, she had gotten one but didn’t like how it fit so she wanted to give it away.”

What? Seriously? Yes, she confirmed, and I think it’s still downstairs, if you want to try it on.

I did. I fell in love. I wore it the rest of the day, and wore it last weekend too. It’s so comfortable and luxurious and handmade by one of my aunt’s friends, so it’s clearly a quality garment.

Sweater, red pants, and heels.

Crappy picture of the sweater in action.

How lucky am I? Very. Afterwards, I tried the old “oh, I really wish I had a winning lotto ticket” line to see if that could be supplied as well, but I suppose that was pushing my luck.

The moral of this story: if you want an Irish sweater, ask around. They aren’t for everyone, and chances are one of your relatives may have one lying around for you. Please note: this usually works better if you have an Irish or Irish-American relative.

WHBV, Favorites List #2

Another web roundup is in order. As always, I share a lot of other things on Twitter, so follow me!

– Wine (or the world of finer things): A friend of mine pointed me in the direction of an Etsy shop that sells jewelry made with beer hops. Excellent. I’m especially loving the rings:

Dictionary Hop Ring by BreweryFerment on Etsy

Dictionary Hop Ring by BreweryFerment on Etsy

– Hockey (sports, hobbies, etc): The Rise and Fall of Alex Rodriguez. As a Mets fan, I jumped on the hater bandwagon pretty early on, but it was a good read whether you like’em or hate’em. I forget that he was such a strong, seemingly humble baseball player at one point.

– Books (and all things literary): An Oral History of YOLO, the word that lived too long. Who knew it was first uttered 20 years ago?

– Vegetables (recipes and other foodly things): These peanut butter cup trifles from The Midnight Baker make me want to run out and buy some trifle cups. Right now. Or maybe during my lunch hour.

PB Cup Trifles, by The Midnight Baker

PB Cup Trifles, by The Midnight Baker

– Random Bonus Link! The Guardian did an analysis of State of the Union addresses and ranked their reading levels. Apparently our Presidents have continued to dumb down their speech for Americans that have short attention spans and have reading levels that are still equal to middle-schoolers.

And, for your viewing pleasure, an oldie but goodie. In honor of Rick DiPietro and his awfully bloated contract being placed on waivers, the infamous DiPietro vs. Johnson fight. Where DiPietro’s face appears to be made of glass. Gosh, I’m mean to athletes I don’t like, I guess.