Obsessed

With this little beauty.

Anthropologie's Bonheur Necklace

Love, love, love. I picked up this necklace from Anthropologie a week ago and have had to stop myself from wearing it every day since. If I hearted things, I would most definitely heart this necklace.

Here's hoping I find a new obsession soon or people are going to start calling me "that girl with the giant rose necklace."

The Great Debate

The Mister and I drove down to Ft. Lauderdale this weekend for a friend's 30th birthday celebration. It's a 3+ hour drive and the battery on the iPod was dead, so I decided to keep The Mister entertained by reading him things I thought he'd find interesting in the magazines I had packed for the trip. After I finished an article about Tim Tebow from Sports Illustrated I was pretty much out of material which interested The Mister. So, I put the magazines away.

It wasn't long before he started in on Roth IRAs, vesting schedules, pretax contributions and responsible retirement planning. I immediately grabbed for the nearest magazine and started reading aloud from the first block of text I could find. This month's "15th Anniversary Special Issue" of InStyle features an in depth, hard hitting interview with Usher for a regular feature in the magazine called "Man of Style".

The introduction, which I read aloud, is as follows:

"Two years ago, Usher Raymond IV launched his first cologne, a light, aromatic scent. Now, at 30, the R&B star with the statue-worthy physique is coming out with VIP, a fragrance that is arguably more complex."

It's at that point I stop reading, look at The Mister and ask incredulously "Arguably more complex? His second fragrance is arguably more complex than the first? That's the stupidest thing I've ever read. Who the eff would argue about that?!?!"

To which The Mister replies, "I don't know. I actually think the first fragrance was quite complex. Much more intricate than this new cologne."

Never one to ruin the bit, I take the opposition. "Oh no, no, no! How can you say that? VIP is far more complex than his original scent. It was entirely one note. This has depth. Much more complexity. Your olfactory senses are clearly inferior to mine."

The Mister shoots back. "Absolutely not. I have a nose for these things. And I'm telling you, the first cologne - hands down, most complex."

We were laughing too hard at this point to go on. I think we laughed for six solid minutes.

To the copy writer for InStyle who penned that fabulous piece of journalistic genius - Thank you for cracking our asses up. You really made the long drive enjoyable.

Best Wifey Ever

I hesitate to share this story because it makes me sound like a wacky nutjob and makes The Mister sound like an angel. And really - that's only half true.

Apparently, quite a few weeks ago, I did something for The Mister which I deemed worthy of proclaiming myself the "Best Wifey Ever". I also apparently told The Mister that there should be signs posted declaring as much. (Aren't I a treat?) I have no idea what I did to earn the title of Best Wifey Ever and actually, I completely forgot about this conversation. (And still don't remember it.) Probably because I've said 13 crazier things since.

Anyhow, I came home the other day, went into the bedroom to change and found this on my bedside table:

I pulled open my jewelry drawer to put my rings away and found another:

And another on the bookshelf:

(Yes, that is Tori Spelling's "Stori Telling" on the bookshelf. Feel free to judge me. However, lest you think I'm completely vapid, please note the Steinbeck and Hamlet. I do occasionally read something of substance. When I'm not watching Bravo.)

And quite a few more stashed in various places throughout This Old house.

Once he explained why they were there, I really was touched that he'd remembered and cared enough to follow through. He really is a sweetheart. Why he picked me, I'll never know!

*Thanks to Slynnro & her recent post for inspiring me to finally upload these pictures and write this post. It's not the cutest thing he's ever done, but it's the most recent. Plus, I was worried The Mister might be getting a bad rap around this blog. Despite the minor flaws of being not so handy and a tv junkie, he's quite the catch.

Miami Beet

My favorite new shade for summer. It's OPI's Miami Beet from the South Beach Collection. It's bright, but not obnoxious, and a great magenta-violet-red combo. It just doesn't seem right to be sporting Lincoln Park After Dark when it's 90 degrees outside, so I think this will be my go to color for a little while longer. Next time you treat yourself to a pedicure, give it a try. I think you'll like it!

Overheard at This Old House

The Mister: We have a problem.

Moi: What would that be?

The Mister: We need another Tivo. We can't record all the shows we want to watch this fall.

Moi: How is that possible? I don't even watch that much TV. We do NOT need another Tivo.

(The Mister hands me a fall television schedule which he has created on the computer, listing all the shows we need to Tivo on each day of the week and COLOR CODED -pink for things only I watch, green for things only he watches, yellow for things we watch together and white for new shows he wants to check out. I. am. not. kidding.)

The Mister: Look at Thursday. On Thursdays alone we have four shows to Tivo at 8:00pm and 9:00pm.

Moi: (Looking at the schedule.) You forgot "So You Think You Can Dance."

The Mister: I think I have the answer. You just need some more family time.

Moi: (wondering what the hell he's talking about. Family time? Does he want to turn off the TV and play board games? Scrabble would be fun...Or Trivial Pursuit. I love Trivial Pursuit! He's so sweet. Wait...this isn't right.) What do you mean "family time?"

The Mister: I think you should go over to The Sister's house and watch your shows with her.

...sigh...

Sorry ladies, he's taken.

Our old house.

Oh, for the love...

This weekend was a comedy of errors.

It started the second I woke up Friday morning. I got out of bed and stumbled to the fridge to get my morning Diet Coke (stop judging!). I put my cup under the ice dispenser and a river of water came rushing out. It was then that I realized I was standing on a sopping wet kitchen mat. Crap! All the ice in the freezer door had melted and leaked out and onto the kitchen floor. I opened the freezer and found everything in side only mildly cold. Double crap! That's when it hit me - THE TOP TIER OF OUR WEDDING CAKE WAS IN THE FREEZER. I went into crisis mode. Still half asleep and soggy footed, I called The Sister. "Don't leave for work - I'm coming over." Still in my pjs and sans make-up I jumped into the car and rushed over to The Sister's house cake in hand. She saved the day and stashed it in her freezer for me. Problem solved! Crisis averted! Oh...wait...the fridge. Still broken. Triple crap. (Also, I may have stopped by 7-11 on the way back to my house to get a Big Gulp of Diet Coke. In my pajamas and ponytail. Again, stop judging!)

The Mister promised to find someone to come out and fix the fridge and I went in to the office. At lunch, the associates in my office took our summer intern out for a farewell lunch. On the way back to the office, with the intern in my passenger seat, I attempted a three point turn. It didn't go well. I slammed the front of my car up onto the curb in front of, oh about 12 people. The intern nearly died laughing in the passenger seat. Luckily, aside from the mortifying embarrassment of driving like a moron in front of half the people in my office building, there wasn't much damage - just a few scrapes on the underside of the bumper.

Things started looking up from there. We found someone to come out and fix the fridge (Thank you sweet baby jesus. Did you know a fridge could cost $5000?!?! Holy geez - that's a lot of chedda yo!) and had a housewarming party to go to that evening.

The Sister and her roomies hosted a great party at their home on Friday night. Good food, good wine, great friends. As the night wore on, people slowly started to leave, but quite a few hours into the party, a solid group of us remained. Somehow the topic turned to wakeboarding. The Sister's roommate was explaining that your lead foot on the wakeboard is the same foot that you would lead with in a cartwheel. Well, that's all it took. Soon, a bunch of half-drunk (late) 20-somethings were cartwheeling around on the concrete driveway. Only being half-drunk, we finally came to our senses and quite rationally decided that we should move the cart-wheeling inside onto the carpet. (Seriously, is no one in charge of us?) Anyhow, being the classy and coordinated lady that I am, I set about cart-wheeling in the living room. And promptly kicked my leg into the back of the couch and fell onto my arse. Despite quite a few glasses of wine, it hurt like a son of a gun. I woke up in the morning with an aching leg and an enormous bruise/lump combo. I'm really not sure if I'm more embarrassed about the fact that I'm a grown woman who drinks too many glasses of wine and ends up cart-wheeling at a cocktail party or that I'm too damn old to do a proper cart-wheel. Probably the latter.

The story really should end here. But it doesn't.

Saturday night we decided to have a girl's night. Dinner and a late showing of "The Time Traveler's Wife". A low key evening by our standards. The weather was surprisingly beautiful for a Florida summer evening, so we had dinner on the patio of a local seafood restaurant. After dinner we made our way to the new theater downtown for the movie, but the place was a zoo. When we were still waiting in line at the time the movie started, we decided to abandon the movie plan. Rather than call it a night, we ended up at "booth 2" for a drink. Soon, that got crazy busy too so we decided to go home and drink some of the leftover wine from the party the night before and play board games. When we got back to the house, we decided to go sit out on the porch for a bit with our cocktails and enjoy the evening. This is where things went wrong. Very wrong.

You see, The Sister's bedroom has double doors which lead out to a great outdoor patio on the second floor of the house. The door has a dead bolt lock, but it also has a small turn lock on the handle. Well - apparently that lock got turned. And we got locked out. At this point, it's nearly 12:30 am, no one else is home and we've left our cell phones inside. We are on the second floor of the house and it's a long way down. To concrete. It becomes clear very quickly that we are screwed. We scream for the neighbors, but they're still out. The other roommate, and the only other person with a key to the house, is at her boyfriend's house for the night and long asleep. Not that we had a phone to call her with. Then, we saw her. Our savior. A jogger. We started screaming to get her attention and begged her to come down the driveway to help us. And she did. (Who the hell goes down a dark driveway in the middle of the night in response to hollering girls? If I were her I may have called 911, but I'm pretty sure I don't go wandering down the dark driveway. Clearly, the girl makes poor decisions - she's out running alone at 1am. Bless her and her bad decisions.) Back to the story. Our savior - whom we come to know as Adele - has a cell phone. We ask her to call the roommate, but we can't remember her phone number. So I ask her to call The Mister. The Mister does not answer calls from numbers he doesn't know and it's about 50/50 if he'll hear the phone while he's asleep. But we're desperate. Adele puts the cell phone on speaker and it goes to voice mail. I shout down a message pleading for help. We send her next door to bang on the door when The Mister saves the day and calls Adele back. Hallelujah! But we're not out of the woods yet. The Mister doesn't have a key to The Sister's house - he can't get us out. We tell him to call the roommate's boyfriend (a friend of his) and beg them to come over and save us. Luckily, he got through to them, woke them up and convinced them to come back and rescue us from the porch. When they pulled into the driveway 15 minutes later we jumped for joy. Seriously, you would have thought we were Tom Hanks in Castaway and had been talking to a volleyball for years and spearing fish for sustenance, rather than sitting outside on a patio in the company of friends on a nice Florida night for an hour. We certainly have a flair for the dramatic.

Luckily, the streak of disastrous occurrences ended there. Sunday was delightfully uneventful. The Sister and I started the morning with a trip to the Super Target (bought Troop Beverly Hills on dvd. A classic.) and I went home and watched an embarrassing amount of Gossip Girl. The Mister and I had Chipotle for dinner and watched True Blood before heading to bed.

Despite the broken fridge, embarrassing car incident, cart-wheel catastrophe, foiled movie plans and stranding on the porch, it was a pretty great weekend! I could really use a weekend to recover from my weekend though.

Oh, and I totally rocked a skirt to work today, awesome bruise and all. My cover story, in the event someone asked, was that I hit it on the elliptical at the Y. I really am a mess.

I'm pooped.

There's plenty to say about the past three days, but I'm just too darn tired. The weekend update will have to wait until tomorrow.

But, I just have to share a great recipe I came across recently for brownies. Not only are these delicious, they're a cinch to make. You only have to dirty bowl - what's easier than that? You might already know about these because you can find the recipe right on the box of Baker's unsweetened chocolate. Thanks to Deb at Smitten Kitchen for bringing these to my attention!

Baker's One Bowl Brownies

4 squares Baker's Unsweetened Chocolate
3/4 cup (1-1/2 sticks) butter or margarine (I prefer to bake with butter)
2 cups sugar
3 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
1 cup flour
1 cup coarsely chopped PLANTERS Pecans (I omitted these)
I added a bag of semi sweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350°F. Line 13x9-inch baking pan with foil, with ends of foil extending over sides of pan. Grease foil.

Microwave chocolate and butter in large microwaveable bowl on HIGH 2 min. or until butter is melted. Stir until chocolate is completely melted. Stir in sugar. Blend in eggs and vanilla. Add flour and pecans (chocolate chips); mix well. Spread into prepared pan.

Bake 30 to 35 min. or until wooden toothpick inserted in center comes out with fudgy crumbs. (Do not overbake.) Cool in pan on wire rack. Remove brownies from pan, using foil handles. Cut into squares. Store in tightly covered container at room temperature. (If you add the chocolate chips they're pretty rich, so I cut them into small cubes.)

These are delicious! The ladies at my dinner on Wednesday loved them. I also brought them to a housewarming party on Friday night and they were a hit there too! Give them a try - you'll love them!

Late to the Party

Today was a good day. The sun was shining and there was not a cloud in the sky. So what did I do? Sat inside on the couch and watched Gossip Girl season 2 dvds for SIX HOURS.

Pathetic, I know. But season 3 starts soon and I have to catch up.

Two months ago I had never seen an episode of Gossip Girl. I know - talk about late to the party. But, after Gilmore Girls was cancelled I swore off the CW forever. (I'm still pissed that Rory didn't end up with Logan. Total crap.) Time has eased by my grudge against the CW, but not being a 12 year old girl, I was pretty sure there wasn't much for me on that network.

I was wrong. This show is great. Sure, most of the actors look at least five years too old to be in high school and 17 year olds prancing around Manhattan ordering cocktails from every swanky bar on the upper east side isn't exactly realistic. But that couldn't matter less. The clothes are fantastic, the boys are delicious and the scheming, plotting and backstabbing never ends. Toss in a healthy dose of sexual tension we have ourselves a winner!

If anyone is looking for me on Monday nights at 9 this fall, I'll be on the upper east side with my good friends Blair, Chuck, Serena, Dan, Nate and Jenny.

xoxo Gossip Girl

*I have no idea why the formatting is so screwed up in this post, but I can't seem to fix it. Grr.

Panic is setting in.

I agreed to host a dinner for 10 women on Wednesday night. Clearly, I've lost mind.

I belong to a local association of women lawyers and about once a month they organize a "Table for Eight", where a group of female attorneys get together for for a casual dinner and conversation. (The dinners are very popular, so there are usually more than eight people in attendance, but the name remains.) Anyhow, in a moment of pure insanity, I agreed to host one of the dinners. I blame my wedding registry. The thought of putting to use all the beautiful platters, wine glasses, table linens, chargers, serving dishes...oh my! Visions of Pottery Barn prettiness danced in my head. And the dinner - things to be mixed! And processed! By golly, I have appliances for that! I was overcome with WilliamSonomoaPotteryBarnCrate&Barrel induced hysteria.

Now, the dinner is in less than 48 hours and I am freaking the f- out. What the hell was I thinking? Have I mentioned my dining room table only seats 6? I've never cooked a full meal for 10 people before. I need a plan. "When you fail to plan, you plan to fail." So here's my plan: keep the wine flowing and hope they get too buzzed before dinner to notice if anything goes awry. I'm only half kidding.

Here's the menu:

Wine & Prosecco

Antipasti platter with italian meats and cheeses

Bruschetta

Salad with balsamic vinegarette & pine nuts

Parmesan Crusted Chicken

Penne alla vodka

Pesto spaghetti

Garlic Bread

Brownies

Lemon Cake with Strawberries

My girl Ina Garten says the key to hosting a successful party is to make as much as possible ahead of time so you have more time to spend with your guests. So, I'm going to make the desserts tomorrow night, and possibly the sauce for the penne alla vodka. Not sure there will be time. I have to make this place shine like the top of the Chrysler Building! Company's coming!

I'll try to remember to take pictures of the food and not just my kitchen aid mixer. Wish me luck!

I'm Glowing

No, I'm not knocked up. I discovered this:

Neutrogena Micro Mist Tanning Sunless Spray

To be honest, I didn't have high expectations for this stuff. My past experiences with sunless tanners have not been great. They're either too orange, too streaky or too smelly. The last thing I need is to turn myself Oompaloompa Orange. But I was desperate. Despite the fact that it's been about 95 degrees every day since June, I haven't seen the sun in quite some time. Working for a living is such crap. It really interferes with my tanning time.

This is a pretty good substitute for a few hours in the sun. First of all, it's dirt cheap! I picked this up for about $9 at Target. That's 1/3 of the cost of one spray tan. Not a bad deal! The color is perfect - it's not a dramatic difference, but it definitely gives you a nice warm glow. And it's not Oompaloompa Orange! The application is so easy - it sprays out in a fine mist and you don't even have to rub it in. It dries in about five minutes. And best of all, no tell-tale streaking. It always cracks me up when you see girls with streaky orange ankles and elbows because they didn't rub in their self tanning lotion. Don't they know that looks so much worse than being pale! My only complaint is that it does have a bit of that "fake tan" smell, but it seemed to fade and I didn't notice it after a while.

If you're looking for a sun kissed glow in a hurry and on a buget, I highly recommend Neutrogena Micro Mist.

Infomercial over.

My name is not Blair.

This morning, on our way out the door, I kissed The Mister and told him I loved him. He looked at me and said "I love you too, Blair."

What can I say? The man loves him some Gossip Girl.

-xoxo

*office bathroom picture inspired by the infinitely wittier and more fashionable elefantitas alegres

She could be a farmer in those clothes.*

Can we please talk about the plaid shirt trend?

Who decided this was fashionable? Just what are we saying with this look? "I'm sleeping with a lumberjack and didn't want to do the walk of shame home in last night's dress so I thought I'd borrow his shirt?" Are we channeling Kurt Cobain? Because I loved the Seattle grunge band scene as much as every other angsty, misunderstood teen in the early 90's, but can't we just crank up the Pearl Jam on the iPod and call it a day?

Call me fashion simple, but I just don't get it. To add insult to injury, my beloved Anthropologie has jumped on this unfortunate bandwagon.

from our good friends at anthropologie.

this one too

Oh, the disappointment. Seriously Anthro? I expect more from you. (Please, please don't kick me out of the sisterhood for speaking against the almighty Anthropologie. They'll still get half my paycheck this week, I swear!)

So, what's the verdict? Plaid button down shirts - hot or not?

*10 points for anyone who caught the Clueless reference.

Have Husband. Seeking Handyman.

My husband is many things - smart, generous, even tempered, hardworking and a damn fine dancer. (Okay, I might have made one of those up.) He compliments my cooking and never lets a day go by without telling me he loves me. He's a wonderful man and I thank my lucky stars every day that I found him. I could continue to wax poetic about the gem that is my husband, but let's get to the point, shall we? The man's not perfect. He hogs the Tivo, puts ketchup on everything and practically refuses to shave on weekends. Luckily, I'm an incredibly forgiving human being and love him in spite of these shortcomings. However, none of the aforementioned flaws concerns me today.

The flaw de jour is this: the man is not handy. Oil changes are performed by our local Jiffy Lube. My tool box is twice as big as his and I handle furniture assembly around these parts. (Although, to be fair, that one is probably my fault. Little Miss-Type-A-Control-Freak sort of takes over whenever you put instructions and a screwdriver in front of me.) After The Mister and two of his buddies gave it the ol' college try, Best Buy saved the day and installed the flat screen tv above the fireplace. Knowing all of this as I do, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that a gigantic box has been taking up valuable space in my bedroom for the past two months.

Let's rewind. One Sunday so many weeks ago I can no longer count them, The Mister and I wandered into Pottery Barn armed with a stack of gift cards, the product of many returned repeat registry items. (How many salad bowls does one girl need?) Among other things, including this, this and these, we purchased a mirror to hang over the dresser in our master bedroom. See look, preeettttyyy:

the Pottery Barn "solano" mirror

Fast forward to today. That beautiful mirror is sitting in the world's largest box on my bedroom floor. The wall above my dresser - empty.

...sigh...

Wonderful man who tells me I'm pretty and fills my soul with happiness - check.

Handyman - currently accepting applications.

Alert the Authorities

Someone has stolen my credit card.

Surely, it was not I who charged $87.00 in cocktails at "booth 2" in the past two days. And $115.09 at Super Target? Unthinkable. $372.34 at Banana Republic? As if! Three charges at Chick-fil-A in one week?!?! Never.

This irresponsible individual must be apprehended. Before I.... err...the criminal, does anymore damage.

Me likey.

want it

need it

got to have it

J.Crew, you've done it again. Loving the new collection. Now how about some free shipping?

Working for the Weekend

I live for weekends. All week long I add chores and tasks to my "to do" list, with the intention of crossing them off on the weekend. It almost never happens. There are always movies to be seen, drinks to be had, a TIVO to empty, and so on and so forth. Somehow, Sunday evening arrives and hardly anything has been accomplished. And that's just the way I like it. There's nothing I love better than a lazy Sunday - the kind of Sunday where I get dressed to go to brunch or Starbucks, only to wind up back on the couch in my ever-so-comfy Vicky's boyfriend pj pants. (They're the best. You need them. Really. I praise The Sister's name for introducing me to them.) This weekend was no exception.

On Friday, The Sister moved into a new house with two of our girlfriends. Like any good friends would do, we convinced them to stop unpacking and come out for drinks. Two of our oldest and best friends (who just happen to be married to each other) were in town and, as is often the case when they visit, we had one hell of a good time and more than enough cocktails!

in our happy place, booth 2

things appear to have deteriorated at this point

Saturday was spent recovering relaxing. It was a classic lazy day - napping, a trip to Super Target, pizza for dinner and a Netflix movie - Confessions of a Shopholic. It was just okay, but I wasn't expecting much so I wasn't disappointed. (Did it bother anyone else that she wasn't British in the movie???) To be honest, I usually find movies based on books to be pretty sucksville.

Sunday ,The Mister and I went car shopping. The Mister's SUV is definitely a clunker, so we thought we'd see what we could do with the C.A.R.S./Cash for Clunkers program. Holy geez, cars are expensive! Since The Mister only drives about a mile each way to work, I suggested he get a Vespa. He suggested I get my head examined. We quickly abandoned the car shopping for a quick bite at the Cheesecake Factory before a matinee showing of Harry Potter. (Another "just okay" movie. However, on the whole, I find the Harry Potter movies to be among the exceptions to the rule of movies based on books generally sucking. )

The Mister spent the rest of the afternoon napping on the couch while I made dinner and baked Carrot Cake Cupcakes for The Sister. Carrot cake is her favorite, so I wanted to bring some to her at the new house as a little housewarming surprise. My favorite part about baking cupcakes, other than the delicious frosting and yummy cake of course, is that you can share them with somone and keep a few for yourself! Try that with a cake - notsomuch. "Hi Neighbor, I baked you this delicious cake. Please don't mind the giant hunk missing. Or the frosting on my lip." But with cupcakes, no one will ever know if you hold a few back. (Just to make sure they're not poisonous, of course. It's practically a public service.) Anyhow, The Sister and her roomies loved the cupcakes. And I love that The Sister finally lives close enough for me to drop by on a Sunday night.

Looks like I forgot the green top on one of the carrots. Oops!

Apparently I was channeling Ina Garten on Sunday, because I decided to make a Tomato Basil Tart for dinner. It was beyond delicious. The Mister was ready to marry me all over again. I helped my grandmother make this tart many years ago and loved it. I hadn't thought about the tart in years, but one day last week I was thinking of my grandma and my thoughts somehow wandered to her delicious Tomato Basil Tart. I emailed her immediately for the recipe but when I didn't hear back from her oh, five minutes later, I started google-ing like a mad woman to find the recipe. I HAD to have that tart! Luckily I found a recipe that seemed pretty close to my memory and went straight to the grocery store to pick up the ingredients. Unfortunately, I was too busy to make the tart last week and couldn't get to it until Sunday. Oh boy, was it ever worth the weight...um, I mean wait. :) Here's the recipe:

Tomato Basil Tart

Ingredients:
1/2 of a 15-ounce package folded refrigerated unbaked piecrust (1 crust)
1-1/2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
5 Roma tomatoes or 4 medium tomatoes (I use roma)
1 cup loosely packed fresh basil leaves
4 cloves garlic
1/2 cup mayonnaise or salad dressing (I used light mayo)
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/8 teaspoon ground white pepper
Fresh basil leaves (optional)

Unfold piecrust according to package directions. (I suppose you could make your own crust. If you have no job, a clean house, an empty Tivo, no books to read or stores to shop and you drank all the wine in the house yesterday, sure - go ahead and make the crust from scratch. But if you have absolutely anything better to do with your time, the ready made crust will do just fine.) Place the pie crust in a 9-inch quiche dish or glass pie plate. Flute edge; press with the tines of a fork, if desired. Line shell with double-thickness of foil. Bake in 450 degree F. oven 8 minutes. Remove foil. Bake 4 to 5 minutes more or till set and dry. Remove from oven.

Reduce temperature to 375 degree F. Sprinkle crust with 1/2 cup of the mozzarella cheese. Cool slightly on a wire rack. Cut tomatoes into wedges; drain on paper towels. (I cut them in slices instead of wedges. I thought it would make for a better distribution of tomato in each bite of the tart. Plus, it looks pretty. I like pretty.)

Arrange tomato wedges (slices) atop cheese in the pie shell.

In a food processor bowl combine basil and garlic; cover and process till coarsely chopped. Sprinkle over tomatoes. In a medium mixing bowl combine remaining mozzarella cheese, mayonnaise, Parmesan cheese, and pepper. Spoon cheese mixture over basil mixture, spreading to evenly cover the top.

I may have gotten so damn excited that I forgot to take a picture before I put the tart in the oven.

Bake in a 375 degree F. oven for 35 to 40 minutes or till top is golden and bubbly. Serve warm. If desired, garnish with basil leaves.

It was a wonderful way to end a fabulous weekend. Too bad the weekend can't last all week...