You are among the reasons I’m so smitten. A fresh new face for my website and blog have served as a reminder of my love for the written word, but also for the interaction with the loyal readers who visit my home on the web every week. And I’m in the mood to thank each and every one of you with the opportunity to win a few of my favorite things.

Reading and coffee are my ultimate comforts this time of year, which is why I’m including in this gift pack a $10 Starbucks gift card and my most favorite travel mug by Temp-tations. It’s ceramic and dark brown (the gorgeous color of coffee) with a silicon lid and removable wrap to keep your drinks extra hot (or nice and cool, if that’s your pleasure). Both the lid and the mug are dishwasher safe, which means clean-up couldn’t be easier.

And although I’m a fan of so many authors, I felt it appropriate to also include a signed copy of my first book, Nerdy Thirty. If you already own the book, pass this copy on to a friend. Or, flip through some of the stories and then share it with someone at work or in your family. The success of Nerdy Thirty, which will celebrate its second anniversary in May, was flattering and humbling. The slim book is a reminder for me (and can be for you) to pursue your passions whenever possible.

Now, the details!

Registering to win these three goodies is super easy. I will randomly draw one winner next week based on comments on this very blog post that address the following question.

For me, it will be cooking and baking more, better prioritizing my free time, and only accepting opportunities that have my full heart. It’s all too easy to Just Say Yes when someone asks a favor. I do it all the time. Problem is, I oftentimes agree to too many commitments and, unfortunately, become frazzled and resentful toward the people I agreed to help. It’s my own fault, really. I’m the keeper of my datebook, of the precious seconds, minutes, and hours of every day. In 2012, I vow to do a better job guarding these minutes and sharing them in ways that prove the most impactful.

Good luck!

Change was definitely (and unintentionally) my personal theme in 2011, and this new website is one more extension of that. I am delighted to welcome you to my new home on the web. After years of bouncing around on LiveJournal and WordPress, at times in a seemingly schizophrenic state of identity and bright colors, it feels wonderfully refreshing to have a shiny new (and more permanent) home on the World Wide Web.

I have Omaha’s own Grain & Mortar to generously thank for this new space. And speaking of changes, Grain & Mortar opened its doors earlier this year. Theirs was a design marriage made in heaven, bringing together Image Made and DownsDesign. I had the pleasure of working with Eric Downs nearly two years ago when he crafted the clever cover for Nerdy Thirty. What fun! It was a delight to again collaborate with Eric and his new team this time around. I couldn’t be more pleased with the final product, and I hope you feel the same.

My new website is a combination of my personal blog and my résumé/professional website. For years I strived to maintain a distinct separation between these two websites. The reason? I can’t really say. However, after experiencing a bit of personal brand overload following Nerdy Thirty, I realized it was time to better streamline my online presence in a more-organized-yet-still-fun-but-not-too-annoying fashion.

Grain & Mortar spent weeks evaluating my current presence on the web and in “real life,” concluding that my new website needed to serve as a central hub to what I do, both professionally and for fun.

I’m one of those individuals who needs to have multiple personalities (in the best and healthiest way possible). This new website is a reminder that I’m a culmination of all the many “things” that I do: a full-time job working with nonprofit organizations, social media, blogger, freelance writer, budding cook and baker, journalism instructor, author, radio “personality” (although I’d prefer a better description of what it is I exactly do on Q98 and KFAB), occasional community volunteer, bride-to-be, public speaker every now and again. The list is ridiculously long, and I even get winded while typing it.

This website is designed to serve as the best representation of who I am, what I stand for, what I do, and who I care about. The design, layout, and other features are creative, pretty, and just plain fun.

And as the title of this blog post suggests, my new website truly features something old (nearly nine years’ worth of previous posts); something new (the pretty design by Grain & Mortar); something borrowed (design and content inspiration from a handful of my favorite blogs and websites); and something blue (the lovely blue hue and other colors throughout these pages).

For those of you who have followed my blog since 2003, I thank you. For the newcomers in the room, welcome to the party and thanks for stopping by. We’re happy you’re here.

Now, what can I get you to drink?

Am I preparing lunch? Or dinner? It doesn’t much matter on a Sunday. Sundays in our home mean grazing on snacks and meals, both large and small. The more homemade, the better.

Which is why it seems appropriate to share with you three of my favorite recipes: Corn Chowder, Corn Muffins, and Pizza Breads. I’ve blogged about all three before, and seeing the photos from meals gone past makes my mouth water just the same.

And while I return to my tried-and-true fall favorites, I’m always looking for something new for Sunday dinner (and as leftovers into the week). Included below are two recipes from my cousin, Shannon (by way of Paula Dean and Martha Stewart) that I plan to try very soon.

What are you favorite comfort foods for fall? Got a recipe to share? Don’t be shy.

Macaroni and Cheese (from Paula Dean)
4 c. cooked elbow macaroni, drained
2 c. grated cheddar cheese
3 eggs, beaten
1/2 c. sour cream
4 Tbs. butter, cut into pieces
1/2 tsp. salt
1 c. milk

Preheat oven to 350. Once macaroni is cooked and drained, place in a large bowl and while still hot add the cheddar cheese. In a separate bowl, combine the other ingredients and add to the macaroni mixture. Pour macaroni mixture into a casserole dish and bake for 30-45 minutes. Top with additional cheese if desired. (I added bread crumbs to the top as well.)

Beef Stroganoff (from Martha Stewart)
2 lbs. beef (I used stew meat)
1 large onion
1 lb. mushrooms
2 Tbs. dijon mustard
Dill
Salt and pepper
2 Tbs. corn starch
1/2 c. sour cream
egg noodles

In slow cooker: add beef, mushrooms, onions, 1/2 tsp. pepper, 1-1/2 tsp. salt (cook on low 8 hours).

After the meat has cooked for 8 hours, do the following steps: In a 2-cup measuring cup, whisk corn starch with water, ladle 1 cup of slow cooker liquid into measuring cup, whisk to continue. Pour into small saucepan and boil. Cook until thick. With slow cooker turned off, stir in cornstarch mixture, then sour cream, mustard, and dill. Serve over egg noodles.

When that university campus is nestled in the Midwest and surrounded by the crisp temperatures and changing colors of the fall – yes, even sans a football team – the experience is just about perfect.

I have been lucky to spend nearly a third of my life on a particular college campus – the University of Nebraska at Omaha – first as an undergrad, and more recently as a full-time employee, graduate student, and part-time instructor.

All of that makes this particular essay a difficult one to write.

I first set foot on the sprawling UNO campus as an eager freshman in the summer of 1997. A few months out of high school and I thought I knew everything I needed about journalism and the newspaper business. The college experience consumed me in the best way possible. I spent exceptionally long hours at The Gateway, our student newspaper, working with staffers who would eventually become lifelong friends. My courses were exciting, the faculty engaging, and the opportunities outside UNO that came my way while still an undergraduate were plentiful.

I worked damn hard those five years, and proudly crossed the stage in the spring of 2002, bachelor’s degree in hand. I was excited to start the next chapter of my story: working as a reporter for the Bellevue Leader newspaper. The opportunity was a great one, but the transition did leave behind an empty feeling.

What would I do without UNO? Where was my (new) home-away-from-home? Would I meet new friends? Would I continue to find challenging opportunities and places for personal growth?

The answer, of course, was yes. Only after college, however, I had to look harder. Much harder. No longer were enthusiastic instructors guiding me along the way. From now on, the journey was solely my own, the path my own choosing.

Three years passed, and the time had come to move on again. This time, the transition was out of the newspaper business into the world of public relations. A natural career progression for “recovering reporters,” some had joked, but the decision turned out to be the right one.

Some six years later, I have three PR jobs on my résumé. The last and most recent – managing media relations for my beloved alma mater – has been the best of times. When the opportunity arrived in 2007 to return to UNO, I jumped at the chance. To come home to that beautiful and memorable campus in the heart of Omaha every single day and to help students whose goals and aspirations seemed so familiar, was a dream come to true.

Which is why, with only five days left working for my wonderful UNO, my heart is a heavy one.

A friend once said doors open, and we walk through them. A door opened for me a few weeks ago, taking me someplace new, but also ending my second chapter at UNO. Later this month, I will join The Steier Group as a campaign manger. I will continue teaching for the School of Communication, an opportunity that came my way in 2008 and one that I have been grateful for ever since.

UNO has a hard working, dedicated, creative, generous, and kind student body, and it has been a privilege to teach a small group of them every semester. Many of my former students have become good friends, and it has been exciting and rewarding to follow their careers after graduation.

As emotional as leaving UNO has become, I have learned to realign my love for that one-hundred-year-old institution. I will always be a proud alum, and will cherish the memories I have built there. I am learning that I can still love UNO from a distance. I will continue to marvel at the success stories who walk across the stage every May and December, knowing that in a small way, I have been part of something special.

So long, UNO.

And in some ways, I like that. There’s something special about dining at one of your favorite restaurants to celebrate a birthday or big achievement, one that’s not a routine go-to restaurant where the experience is merely an afterthought.

You may not travel there often; but when you do, good news is most certainly the reason why.

In our family, it was that way with Mr. C’s on North 30th Street. We ventured to the eclectic steakhouse for years, many times for my December 6 birthday. The year-round Christmas decor that covered every wall could not be found anywhere else in Omaha. And that’s what made it special.

When Mr. C’s closed its doors in September 2007, a 55-year-old Omaha landmark was now gone for good.

And our family was left looking for a new Omaha eatery to celebrate my birthday and other special occasions.

I can’t remember who suggested Piccolo Pete’s near 20th and Martha Streets, but bless them. We’ve had many family dinners at Piccolo Pete’s since then, and even celebrated Matt’s 30th birthday there back in February.

The restaurant, obviously, holds a special place in our hearts and is naturally associated with good memories. But the food? The food is all the more reason we keep coming back. These east Omaha steakhouses are slowly disappearing, and with them goes an unmistakable flavor that, after nearly thirty-three years, I’ve been unable to find anywhere else.

Maybe it’s the signature recipes and flavorings. Maybe it’s the cooks in the kitchen, who pass secret techniques down to one another. Or maybe it’s all in my head (and stomach). Regardless of the reason, dining at Piccolo Pete’s warms my heart in ways no West Omaha eatery ever could.

Sarah Baker Hansen agrees.

In her new book, The Insider’s Guide to Omaha and Lincoln, Sarah writes: “Piccolo’s has always had a close place in this writer’s heart. It’s been around since 1933 and has one of the most memorable neon signs in the city out front: a festive man playing a piccolo. Piccolo’s is a huge, open space with lots of tables and lots of arched mirrors and chandeliers. Its mostacciolo and meatballs is fantastic, the steaks are big and juicy, and the beef stroganoff is a must try if you’re into that decidedly old-school menu item.”

Piccolo’s steaks and mostacciolo (when served with their signature red sauce) makes one of the most simple yet savory meals one could ask for from an Omaha steakhouse any time of year. Matt and I were reminded of that unmistakable combination last week when we returned to Piccolo’s for an Omaha Restaurant Week preview dinner.

Piccolo’s is one of more than thirty Omaha eateries offering special menu prices September 16-25, designed to attract new audiences to some old favorites. It’s gratifying to see Piccolo’s on the list, alongside some of the city’s newer, more urban restaurants.

The combination of restaurants reminds me of fashion, to be honest. I’m a sucker for new pieces as much as the next girl. But there’s something quite dynamic (at times, exquisite) about pairing those pieces with a vintage accessory. The splash of vintage makes everything look (and in this case, taste) even better.

A side note: I had fully intended to take a few photos of our delicious Piccolo Pete’s meal on September 9. Yet I was so enamored by the food in front of us (shrimp cocktail, New York Strip, salad, pasta, baked potato, with cheesecake for dessert) that I forgot to even pull my camera from my bag. It’s that good.

On my many stops throughout Nebraska and Iowa since my first book was published last spring, it has been a joy meeting other writers: those who write professionally and those who write simply for pleasure. We share a bond, really.

We are journalists and storytellers, creative writers and those who just love to blog.

So when the opportunity to host a writing workshop in partnership with the Omaha Creative Institute presented itself, I jumped at the chance. Workshop details and registration information is below in our press release and at the institute’s website.

Sharpen your pencils or grab your iPad, and make plans to join us for two days in downtown Omaha. I guarantee you’ll walk away feeling creatively energized and ready to write.

Two-Day Writing Workshop Series is Oct. 22-23
at Omaha Creative Institute

Writers, bloggers, those who journal and anyone looking for a little creative inspiration are invited to attend a two-day writing workshop series this October, hosted by the Omaha Creative Institute.

Local writer Wendy Townley will moderate the three sessions, scheduled for Saturday, Oct. 22, and Sunday, Oct. 23, at the offices of Alley Poyner Macchietto, 1516 Cuming St. Located in the TipTop Building, the offices are also home to the Omaha Creative Institute.

Townley’s first book, Nerdy Thirty, was published in 2010. She holds a bachelor’s degree in journalism and a master’s degree in communication, both from the University of Nebraska at Omaha. Townley has also been blogging since 2003 at www.wendywriter.com.

The self-publishing workshop on Saturday afternoon will also be presented by Michael Campbell. Campbell is an Omaha writer and musician whose first book, Are You Going to Eat That?, was published in 2009. A graduate of the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, Campbell is also a regular humor columnist for Omaha’s Food & Spirits Magazine.

The two-day workshop schedule is below; however, workshop attendees are encouraged – but not required – to bring their manuscript ideas or works-in-progress to discuss with the group.

Saturday, Oct. 22
• 10 a.m. to noon – An overview of blogging and of the writing process: where to find ideas, where to write and how to stay motivated.

• 1 to 3 p.m. – Securing a publisher or self-publishing your work, locally, regionally and nationally.

Sunday, Oct. 23
• 1 to 3 p.m. – Promoting your work once it’s published, using both traditional media relations and event planning, and social media marketing.

Tickets are available for $35 per workshop, or $90 for all three.

For students, tickets are $20 per workshop, or $50 for all three.

The Omaha Creative Institute is a cultural hub, providing leadership, unity and educational opportunities for Omaha’s creative community.

To reserve space in the workshops, visit www.omahacreativeinstitute.org. For more information, call the Omaha Creative Institute at (402) 981-7047.

These three workshops are presented, in part, through support from Nebraska Humanities Council and Nebraska Arts Council.

I’m turning thirty-one this month, so I thought I’d reflect on a few nerdy fashion moments in the three decades of my life so far (a few of the many), as we are calling for writing about “Fashion in Literature” for the next Lit Undressed in October with (downtown) omaha lit fest (details below).

When I was ten in the fourth grade, I was the new kid. Already a shy girl, I was nervous most of the time and did my best to wear “cool clothes.” I wore my black stretch pants constantly with stretch-socks over them, and black high-top Keds every day during the winter. Summer months were clad with bright soccer shorts and extra-large t-shirts, tied at the corner, of course. Neon scrunchies and slap-bracelets abound, my favorite summer shoes were jellies.

But my most memorable fashion moment from fourth grade doesn’t come from what I wore to school, but what I wore to bed. I had this t-shirt of my mother’s that she wore in college. It had a Cathy cartoon with a tennis racket and some saying about the sport (I didn’t know Cathy from Sally Forth, I think I just liked wearing something my mom wore when she was “cool”). With blue three-quarter-length sleeves, it was old (to me, from the 1970s), comfy, and I had worn it to bed since I was five, when it fit me like a nightgown, down to my knees.

By the time I was ten, of course, it was approaching t-shirt fit, but I still wore it just the same. Mistakenly, I took it to a slumber party at Erin’s house, the popular girl, the girl who wore Gap clothes and talked loud and was never nervous. The slumber-party was tolerable, I remember not sleeping much, as the girls froze one of the other girl’s underwear, of course, and tried to coax another to wet her sleeping bag with a bowl of water on her hand while she was asleep. It was a success for me, I laughed when I was supposed to, and stayed out of the mean conversations. The next day I realized I forgot my prized nightie at Erin’s house; I called her, she said she’d bring it to school Monday, no problem.

When I walked down the hall Monday morning to Ms. Dinslage’s classroom, all the kids were laughing, hovered around Erin’s cubby. When I approached, Erin ducked out, lifted my Cathy shirt up, and said, “here’s your pajamas, Sally! Hahaha!” I am not kidding, she had a loud, mean laugh. Though I realize if I were less nervous I could have not cared and snapped right back at her something smart. But to this day, I never think of smart comebacks until at least twenty-four hours after situations. I stood there, staring, shaking. I grabbed it, stuffed it in my bag. All the kids but my crush, Peter, went into the classroom. “Will you wear that for me? Its cute!” Peter said, smirking. Cringing with embarrassment and anger, I said nervously, “Never!” and stormed around him into the classroom, sinking in my seat, hoping people had forgotten. I started wearing shorts with the shirt to bed after that.

Ten years later, I was none the cooler. Twenty was my sophomore year at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln as an art major. Admittedly, however, and thankfully, I had gained confidence, and focused more on comfort for class, and kitschy for evenings out. I prided myself on my Goodwill finds, 1970s pale yellows and pinks, low-rise bell-bottom jeans and overalls. The year was filled with changes; my parents adopted my two younger brothers from Cambodia, and my older brother got married in Texas. I moved to the hills of Pennsylvania to be a camp counselor-jewelry teacher that summer. I didn’t know anything about jewelry making except for making a few friendship bracelets, and I had only babysat once in my life—but, what I lacked in experience, I made up for with gusto. I got the job, packed up what I thought were appropriate camp clothes—cut-off shorts, old t-shirts, definitely no accessories. I was stoked for the new adventure.

When I showed up, it was nothing like the camp I remembered attending (and hating) in rural Nebraska when I was younger. Limos, Rolls Royce’s, BMWs filled the parking lot with blingy luggage, and a few private airplanes landed to let some families off in the clearing. The young girls were clad in Dolce and Gabana, Armani, and other name brands I had never thought possible someone young to even touch; gold earrings and diamond necklaces galore, I was stunned. My cabin assignment was sixteen-year-olds, the eldest of the campers, the most challenging.

Each night the girls would blow-dry their hair, pile on the make-up, for dinner to meet the boys. They stayed up all hours of the night talking boys, sex, gossip and clothes. They asked me questions but I feigned sleep to avoid the talk. Admittedly I was not a good camp counselor; I was out of my realm. Though I wasn’t poor in the least, and was definitely spoiled by comparison to most of the world, and admittedly, my high school was nick-named “Hollywood High” for a reason, this was still unlike anything I had experienced. I remember them making fun of me for bringing one pair of ratty old brown sheets, when they brought two or three varieties of bed sets. Unbelievable. This was camp!

My nerdy-fashion moment of the summer was two-fold; one, when I was going out on my one-night out to a bar down the road in New Jersey, getting “dressed up,” I put on my hand-made jean skirt I crafted out of a pair of my old jeans, with a belt I had made out of a rope and a wooden button from the jewelry room, and of course a t-shirt I tried to cut-up to be cute. I thought myself quite creative and looking cool, when I received giggles and whispers from the girls. “Do you want to borrow my clothes?” They asked, for they were sixteen but definitely developed, a few of them. I didn’t, of course, but I slunk out of their make-up madness and out into the world outside of camp, thankful for each moment without those kids. Great birth control, it was, being with them all day and night, waking them up in the morning. I decided not to have kids. I came home in my grubbiest that last day of camp, took pictures with the campers, was pretty sure they’d remember me as the poor hick from the Midwest. When I got home I cried from relief, and got my hair braided, just to remind myself, probably, that it is most fun (for me personally) not to be a high fashion queen.

My thirtieth year and I have two kids, and all the nerdier. My nerdy fashion moments from the year lie in lack of fashion, ironically, as I somehow found myself on the other end of art-making, as an art model. The first gig I had last summer for an art class, I foolishly walked around the gallery during breaks and afterward sans robe, only to be told afterwards that is a definite faux-paus. The rest of the year has been filled with robe-running—that is, me in a robe, running errands around the city. I frequently forget my shoes, and, usually don’t care enough to go back and fetch them, so many a dates I’m happy and shoe-less. My nerdness has expanded and my fashion has declined.

As I turn thirty-one, I’m embracing my fashion-nerdiness, embracing the fact that truly, I cannot pull off extravagant clothes. I look at mannequins and storefronts and magazines and wonder, I love that! But, would I could I pull that off? No, most undoubtably, I’d look like I was trying too hard. Although I love roaming Goodwills, my children hiding in the racks and picking up old hats and shoes prevent me from finding the coolest stuff. I remember thinking when I was young, “all my mom’s clothes are from the 1970s or 1980s!” (depending on the year). Now I’m pretty sure my daughter will think, “gosh, all my mom’s clothes are from the 1990s or 2000s!” No matter, I wear my old sundresses and corduroys with pleasure.

About Sally Deskins
Sally Deskins is a mother, wife, writer and producer of events such as Lit Undressed. Lit Undressed, in conjunction with (downtown) Omaha lit fest, is calling for poetry and short-short fiction with the theme of Fashion in Literature for the event in October. See omahalitfest.com and facebook.com/litundressed for more information.

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