.:Mary:Maker:.

A Favorite Feeling

2011-10-16T18:48:00.001-07:00

Even at small parties, when the swell of the Happy Birthday song grows and everyone is singing really loud, perhaps in desperation for cake, I love that minute where you're just standing there in the glow of the candles, gathering your breath to blow them out, thinking about your wish. Year after year, I find it overwhelming, but great.

Remember the Beach

2011-08-04T06:31:00.001-07:00

So old, but so good.

Faces

2011-07-01T05:47:00.000-07:00

My summer project is portraits, but I'm still a sucker for messy, beautiful food and comraderie.

Big Dee

2011-02-03T14:42:00.000-08:00

This post is wildly overdue. I was in Detroit just before Christmas, visiting my best bud, and this is a collection of images from my trip. I ended up working through the whole visit, like a terrible, horrible friend, but we eked out some nice meals and some adventures in between my homework. As the first stop of my three week stint in the Midwest, I still found the freeze and snow a bit romantic, through the window of Jacob's bedroom say, though it made exploring a little painful. So in lieu of walking around the city, we had a few nice drives and some tasty comfort food and some really smooth Polish vodka. These photos are linked in series, only in that I experienced them all over the course of my time in Motor City.

I was pretty self-conscious about taking photos of Detroit's well-publicized blight, though some of these are that. Instead, Detroit reminded me of the other industrious centers I've seen nearby--Milwaukee, Chicago, Gary, Indianapolis and I imagine Cincinatti, Pittsburgh even. They are proud, amidst depression; hard but bright; working, if fairly unemployed. Sure, they're frayed and fraying, especially in comparison with the younger, more lovable coastal metropolises, but there is a latent might in their skylines that nods to their devoutly American past, referring without saying, to the memory of what used to be.

Even covered in ice and slushy snow, I'd find Detroit catching the breath up in my throat. It may have been a sort of surprise at finding unexpectedly, an optimism. Five days just wasn't enough.

Twinkle

2011-02-01T07:14:00.000-08:00

It may seem funny to talk about Christmas in February, but sometimes, that's just how things have a way of working out. Houston has some funny traditions in the holiday decoration department. The 'Bandage + Snakes', shown here, is a general style of stringing up white lights that seems to be all the rage among the Houston fancy schmancy. The oak trees get covered in a dense wrap, and then sparser strands are left to dangle from branches, as though reptilian predators. For the record, this same technique was applied equally to the huge palm trees out near the mall here too. It's pretty, but bizarre. And this coming from a Christmas junkie.

You shoulda seen my neighborhood around Halloween. We are talking Giant. Glowing. Spiders. Stuck. On. Mansions. Houston is Ridic(ulous).

And When All Else Fails

2011-01-31T19:55:00.000-08:00

Thank goodness for food.

Laughing

2011-01-16T19:37:00.000-08:00

For The Win.

Thanks to my mom and her epic photo present over the holiday...

Winter Light

2011-01-15T00:18:00.000-08:00

I used to walk across this baseball field every day, going to and from elementary school. The fields seemed enormous at the time, constituting a major chunk of what seemed like a very long walk to my little kid legs. Now they just seem small and lonely and the light in the morning, so cold.

She's A Master

2011-01-14T00:14:00.000-08:00

For holidays, my grandma makes the pies in our family. That's pumpkin, mincemeat, peach and pecan. Where'd you think I learned all the tricks?

Family Times

2011-01-13T11:49:00.001-08:00

Post holiday Sumnicht family get-together. Little Chute, WI.

Hometime New Years

2011-01-01T13:35:00.000-08:00

I am entirely too disorganized to post all the food and the adventure and the holiday I've been having, but in the spirit of 'one step at a time', I thought I'd just stop in to wish you a happy start to this year. I crossed into 2011 happily in the company of both of my siblings and my old time besties Abby + Matt in their fair Madison, WI. (This, you may realize, is a mere stone's throw from my hometown hometown, Neenah.) New Years's in Wisconsin have never been in my experience terribly memorable and this year, we were hoping to change that.

We made homemade ravioli! I've never done that! And despite their filling being a little 'overwhelmingly hazelnut', they were tasty. Other perks of the holiday included some scrappy rum and coke pre-gaming, champagne and cocktails at the new cozy & hip farm to table spot downtown for midnight, an awesome show in a crowded bar to finish off our livers, hot, frosted cinnamon rolls and breakfast sammies to cure any lingering hangovers this morning and, then, college football. With the exception of Badger defeat at the hands of TCU, it was perfect.

Not bad, Wisconsin, not bad at all. To the new! Cheers.

Epic Meats

2010-10-24T11:47:00.000-07:00

Got a call from a friend on Saturday that something epic was afoot at the aforementioned Ice House. Boy, was it.

That, for the record, is a burger skewered on sausages and wrapped in a woven cloak of bacon, waiting patiently for space on the grill. One of many, many, many meat treats at the, get ready, Montrose Beer & Gun Club Annual Cookoff & Music Extravaganza, a benefit for, also get ready, kids who wish things were better. You pay five dollars at the door and then eat as much as you possibly can from the 20-30 little stands set up on the grounds at the ice house. Beer is for sale, like always, but mostly, there's just a crazy amount of food. Things get made in waves, the offerings change as the day wears on, but we saw lots of chili, six kinds of beans, tenderloin on the grill, a roasted pig head, tamales, tacos, chicken, quail, rabbit, everything. And each with some kind of sauce, tenderly drizzled over top. I got to eat some stuff here and there, but yeah, mostly I just watched.

That there? That's a candied jalapeno. Momentarily sweet but really just hugely spicy, for the record.

Sweet Spots

2010-10-21T11:27:00.000-07:00

I should confess, I still have a suitcase on the floor of my room full of clothes. It's not exactly still packed, but the stuff in it is that sort of in between clothing that you don't want to devote one of your three precious drawers to, but also, that you actually wear. I believe its a medley of athletic clothing and old t-shirts that are really only suitable for sleeping in, when you've run out of otherwise more suitable pajamas and shorts or ruffled bloomers I wear under dresses while bicycling and enormously bulky Russian socks and long underwear and the odd pair of sweatpants. They are things I don't need right now, but might need someday and the whole mix leaves me really uncertain about myself. Let alone what kind of storage solution I require.

So, yes, I haven't documented the state of things here, as they are still very much in progress. Sorry. I really need a dining table and I think all other negligence in my apartment sort of orbits around that main issue. And in my defense, I am almost never actually here. So never here, that my neighbor was shocked to see me in the daylight the other day. I actually startled him.

But there are some little spots where in between brewing coffee or reading or brushing my teeth, I've put down little roots and hung up the things I love. Sometimes, I've just used the nail that was already in the wall. But even the little wispy bitty roots we put down, they do help to hold things up.

I've always been really attached to my house. (Nester, obviously.) But here in Houston especially, I realized that the things I've held onto, through all the moves and all the shakes, are the things that will always remind me of some very specific moment or person. And all these silly little things, tacked to the walls of this little apartment, is a way of surrounding myself with all of the moments and with all of the people with whom I've known love and felt life. To linger over them in the minutes between the usual, ho-hum everyday? Well, it just, it really helps.

Can't Be All

2010-10-20T01:00:00.000-07:00

I daresay, if you can manage to make a perfect peach pie and drink some nice whiskey with a friend once in a great while, it can't be all bad.

That half that's missing we ate to celebrate the end of our first review and one quarter pie each was well-deserved.

West Alabama Ice House

2010-10-19T12:12:00.000-07:00

I am not ashamed to say that I have managed to locate for myself, a bar. Arguably, for a grad student and a fan of fun, this is the most important thing to nail down in a new city. This one, it hits all the notes.

Pool table, outdoor seating, cheap beer, old timers, taco truck, huge white dog, check.

Change Scene

2010-08-23T06:01:00.000-07:00

Savoring my last few moments in bed this morning, before I pick out my clothes and get ready for my first day of school. It has been a long time since I've had this nervous, pent up, excited feeling over finding out what will make tomorrow so different from yesterday.

Fingers crossed no drowning will be involved. I'm a little scared, but also ready to have routine and obligation. I'm not very good at floating around, you might say. I get lazy.

The Stand of Cleo & Ramsey

2010-08-22T09:56:00.000-07:00

Houston, Texas you all.

And Houston

2010-08-21T16:21:00.000-07:00

I've been in this Texas town now for about a week. I know my way around, I've done some exploring. Some things are still in boxes and others are right at home on shelves and in drawers. I've located iced coffee and thrift stores and Indian food. I'd been telling people for so long that this is where I was going and all of a sudden, I'm actually here. It still seems a bit surreal to say, I live in Houston, but mostly because now it feels really true.

This place has a few things in common with Oakland, California. Abundant Mexican food, for one. Perhaps more obviously, it's really different. It's harder to settle in here on a budget, I'm finding. There's nowhere to mine for salvaged hardware or cool but shabby furniture. No produce market to write home about. No amazing soccer pub around the corner from my house. I know, these things will take some time to unearth. For now, I'm fairly content with the light that comes into this little apartment around 6 o'clock in the afternoon. Certainly, no substitute for the particularly handsome boy I sent back to California on Tuesday morning, but I find it such a comfort.

More soon! Promise.

Ok, Ok.

2010-07-11T09:35:00.000-07:00

We were celebrating and I have a million or so photos, but then we were relaxing and then, you know, one thing leads to another and three months go by and here I am excusing myself, yet again to you.

We were celebrating Emily & Ryan's wedding in Delaware. Here they are, wife and husband:

Helping your best friends get married is so much fun. So much fun, in fact, that we spent two weeks recovering after we got back. Going to bed at 9:30 for a week is actually pretty epic, in its own, underrated sort of way. A more complete recap is in order, but not just yet.

Some sun.

2010-05-06T19:52:00.000-07:00

Why, hello summer. I didn't realize you'd be stopping by so soon.

Houston and a Warm Quinoa Salad

2010-05-06T12:39:00.000-07:00

To start, I want to whisper to you about this new favorite of mine. It's a food. I got these new small size blue pyrex bowls a few weeks ago, and I can't seem to stop filling them up with warm quinoa salad with pinenuts & feta and spinach and raisins and in this case, caramelized leeks and avocados. Oh, and a fried egg plopped on top. Bloop.

It's been quite awhile since I could justify taking the time to cook myself a meal. For months now, we've scaled back on making things from scratch, opting for fast and easy and non perishable groceries instead of bulk grains and fresh vegetables. It's been really nice getting re-acquainted with the kitchen and with real food and with slowness.

I mentioned last week that I'm headed to Houston in the fall to start the Master of Architecture program at Rice University. And surrounding this news, I've been re-acquainting myself with some other feelings, a bit more distant, more unfamiliar than lazy cooking. The feeling of making a decision for myself and by myself, the feeling of moving to a new city, a new life, a new livelihood and the feeling of knowing and not at all knowing what my future will look like. This is a little vague, but that's sort of how I feel about this newly acquired life plan I have. I know the plot, but not the language and I've just taken the book off the shelf. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, this feeling of beginning, but it's been a long time. When I'm not terrified, I am really really excited about it.

It'll be hard to leave this city, of course, and the people who have helped it feel so very homey over the last year. But I am excited for the challenge of Houston. I'm excited to live in a place less likable, less saturated with people so similar to me. I'm excited to live in the middle again for a while, excited to experience again what most of this country is like. I'm especially excited to do so, while studying the way we organize ourselves through architecture. I really agonized, to be honest. Before I saw Rice for myself, I was so uncomfortable picking up again within two years of arriving here, to move my life again. As you know, I am instinctively a nester. Our move to the west coast was so much harder than I thought it would be. But at the same time, I feel like I'm about to commence such a terrific adventure. That feeling, for now anyway, has completely taken hold.

It has been a long time since I saw what I wanted, and had it.

Hello!

2010-04-24T09:40:00.000-07:00

So much to say, really. I will start with this house I saw last weekend in Alameda. Sometimes reality feels thoroughly indistinguishable from make-believe. I can hardly believe this kind of thing has managed to outsmart time itself.

Speaking of reality, I am in fact moving to Houston, Texas. And, what's more, I am stoked. More to follow.

Hardworking, that Ryan

2010-03-09T13:28:00.000-08:00

Thanks for being so patient. As I foreshadowed last week, I have some photos to show you of a fun project I did recently for one of our very best friends, Ryan. He asked me to make him a holster to wear at work back when he and Emily visited us in November. November was a while ago! I've been busy, as you well know.

Ryan is a server at the bustling South Philly Cantina and he wanted something to carry a check presenter, an iPhone, a pen and a pencil and his chapstick, with possibly a secret pocket thrown in for good measure and belt loops to attach to his belt. My schedule had a tiny window in it two weeks back and I headed to this year's legendary White Elephant Sale (a great source for fabric and raw material for crafting projects) on the hunt for interesting plaids and inspiration.

I decided to make him two. One for business and one for pleasure, you might say. One classic red and black plaid with brown leather accents and one crazier one, featuring vintage/awesome hand screened canvas in a neon green and yellow and purple pattern. That way, if Ryan is feeling fruitier one day and lumberjacked the next, he need not sacrifice self-expression while working.

In the end each included designated pockets for each of his aforementioned necessities, plus a few extra, with two reinforced belt loops of leather or seatbelt, two secret pockets for small things in back and a stitch-suggested pocket for chapstick.

It was so nice to be sewing again. So nice.

**John's modeling here, as Ryan lives in Philadelphia.

I'm With Stupid

2010-03-02T19:18:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, John and I totally lose it. We're both really busy right now--he with the regular rigor of graduate school and me with the regular chaos that chases me around--so that when we take communal breaks from our respective work...all bets are off. Sometimes we gossip about the cats in our neighborhood. Sometimes we make jokes about who is the smart one and who is the funny one. And other times, well other times, the only thing in the fridge are two dozen eggs and we do really pretty ridiculous things while trying to figure out dinner.

I finished a really exciting project over the weekend, but because it's in the mail to someone, I want to wait to post until it's been received. Please stay your appetite for fun with these funny pictures until then.

All the Fixins

2010-02-23T09:07:00.000-08:00

In honor of President's Day last weekend, we went to Macy's and went out for lunch at the Claremont Diner. I ordered this gut-bomb you see below. Yes, that's mayonnaise atop swiss atop grilled onions, with a chocolate malt standing frosty and proud in the background. Although I'm sure this "went straight to my hips" as the kids would say, my heart is still operational because I've been getting fit at the Oakland Y as of three weeks ago. It was a veggie burger, though it hardly matters. I didn't quite make it to the clean plate club. And a good thing--the mall is no place to head when you're stuffed to the gills.

Leaning back in the booth, digesting, we were kindly treated to a gaze at the slowly looping model train which decorates the upper echelon of the dining room. Choo-choo.

Emily

2010-02-22T20:35:00.000-08:00

Emily made a big diorama of her grandma in a garden of color that now sits in the window of the ATA space on Valencia St. in San Francisco. Emily's drawings are already really beautiful, and lately she's a talented jeweler as well, but I was particularly floored by her genius in this project. I'm not sure what's the best part--her drawings turned three dimensional, her grandmother looking out for the city or her impeccable sense of color. They're all the best part.

To celebrate this artistic feat, Tim's band played for only the second time ever. And they were very good! There were so many friends. Everything was perfect.

Portland Finale

2010-02-16T09:33:00.000-08:00

This is the last of the bunch. Promise.

Portland, Oregon

2010-02-06T15:20:00.000-08:00

After we left Comptche, we drove almost 14 hours along Route 1 into Oregon. It was a long day. We stopped to say hi to John's Aunt Honey and Uncle Eric, who live on a sort of menagerie in rural Oregon, and then we spent the duration in PDX, itself. We'd both been before, but never with such worthy friends to stay with and never over Thankgsgiving. Thanksgiving is my favorite no matter where you spend it, but may I especially recommend you find a year to spend that holiday in Portland. The drizzle, the bungalows, the comfy style of the city is perfectly and completely suited to a November vacation devoted to eating.

The next few posts will be a collection of the most photogenic moments of our trip. Just to put names with faces, we were visiting Jesse and Lauren, old favorites from Virginia and Mary Frances Wegmann, my better half. Hope you'll indulge yet another photographic reminiscence.

More soon.

The Hikes

2010-01-31T06:00:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned, I'm really not much of a walker. Give me an alternative and I will likely take it. But in the spirit of the aforementioned cabin vacation, we took these really great walks while we were in Comptche. First into town, and then later, along one of the heirloom routes that Miriam's family has worked out over the last few decades. The latter cuts across several country lanes and through some great big woods. The photos speak pretty well for themselves.

Despite these fantastic photos and my stellar company, I'm still not sure about walks. By the end, I felt like I was going to run.

The Cabin

2010-01-30T11:58:00.000-08:00

I've had all these things to show you, gathering dust since late November, when we took a West Coast vacation through Mendocino County and up to Portland, Oregon to be with friends for the Thanksgiving holiday. There are so may moments worth recounting that I expect this will come in several parts. It all started when Miriam invited us to come stay for a weekend in her family cabin in Comptche, a tiny tiny town just 20 miles or so from Fort Bragg in Northern California.

We headed up on a Saturday afternoon. After leaving California Hwy. 101, we drove mostly along a winding road through a sleepy hollow sort of landscape, light green and lush and rocky beautiful the whole way. We lost the light thirty minutes shy of our arrival, so that by the time we pulled into the cabin's gravel drive, our eyes were tired from squinting at road signs. We were in a forest, we figured, dark as it was by 6:30, but that was all we could tell.

My grandparents have a cabin in northern Wisconsin, perched on a hill, looking over a lake. Jungle Lake, as we fondly call it, is painted in a blue wash and decorated with vaguely Scandinavian knick-nacks, built by my dad's family in the 60's. Not knowing what to expect, as always with my California, I imagined to find the same sort of thing at Miriam's in Comptche. I woke up our first morning, to find something else entirely.

In truth, they aren't so different. The redwood forest that surrounds Comptche, at the scale of the majestic, is more impressive probably than the familiar woods at Jungle Lake. But where the cabin itself was punctuated with their families' history there--a museum of treasures collected on hikes adorning an exterior wall, lamps and drinking glasses handmade by Miriam's dad and the cabin garden tended by Miriam's mom--I was constantly reminded of the parallel traditions we kept at Jungle Lake. We have a birch cribbage table that my grandfather made from a felled log and an announcemnent still hangs in the hall closet for a pounce tournament "tomorrow morning" that we made when we were kids. Each time Miriam would explain a ritual of Comptche, I would remember one of my own. In a bit of a flood of memory, I realized how much I'd forgotten of the Jungle Lake traditions since I moved away.

They're a lot like time capsules, cabins. They envelope you in that familial slowness, where things assure you they will remain the same forever and you can just laze about in that promise. In the comfort of someone else's cabin capsule, I was able to enjoy that very home feeling. It was a perfect way to begin our Thanksgiving.

Mailing

2010-01-26T10:15:00.001-08:00

Last night, for the fist time in my life, I actually felt like going on a walk. Honestly! They are usually not my thing--too slow and pokey and unsatisfyingly moderate as activities go. And of course, in this rare moment of walking impetus, I stepped outside to feel rain drops falling ever so lightly on my head. Damn.

In a particularly admirable turnaround, I headed back inside and embarked instead upon a postal extravaganza. With the same excitement I'd reserved for that brisk walk, I got out my pens and paper, my packing tape, my envelopes and my labels and Jay-Z and the lot of us set to work repaying my long overdue mail debts. A stack of sealed and addressed letters is staring back at me right this instant, on top of two very handsome parcels. Excuse me while I sigh softly in satisfaction.

I only got about half way through my list, truth be told, but it is a start. Now that my letter hand is back in top form, I plan to address the rest of them soon enough and maybe launch some debts in my favor. And as long as this rainy season keeps up, it looks as though I'll have plenty of openings in my schedule.

The Biggest Project

2010-01-24T15:00:00.000-08:00

Making my portfolio turned out to be the most fun and also most challenging part of my applications. No matter how many proofs I looked at, of course, something could always be improved upon. And the version I shipped out is not pefect, but it's pretty good. The contents include sewing, drawing, prints, spanning late college through present day. I'm particularly proud of the final enclosure, which repeats a pattern used in one of the included pieces through machine embroidered silhouettes and sewn binding.

It's scary when your life seems to rest on something that is in some ways, so accidental. I've always felt stifled by the pressure inherent to making art--the feeling that each piece must fit into a decided repertoire and express you perfectly. When a given project can't or doesn't do that, I feel crushed by the waste of time and resources. And then I get monumentally discouraged.

But in making the portfolio, for the first time, I looked at it all together in a series. And to my surprise, they held each other up. Where one print fell short and seemed overly simple, another object chimed in with detail and nuance. It was reassuring and liberating to see that they were related, if only through their common creation by my hands, and I feel really proud of the work--all of it--for the first time.

I've embedded a link to the PDF pieces here, in case you'd like to see what I mean. Though it's rather late for critique, let me know what you think.

Back on Course

2010-01-23T11:16:00.000-08:00

Well. Did you miss me? I rather missed myself.

More than two months have happened since I checked in here, so bear with me while I remember how to write about it. In sum: I suffer from a disorder by which I constantly imagine that I am capable of doing more than is actually possible. In the broadest sense, I've thought for much of my adult life that I will hold no fewer than seven simultaneous careers with wild success, as a matter of course. And in the smaller sense, day-to-day, I also imagine that I might sleep 9 hours every night, perform 24 hours of projects during every day, and also relax in between. I'm just ambitious.

Over the hiatus from marymaker, I applied to eight Master of Architecture Programs, drove up the coast of California to Portland for a week of vacation, celebrated John's birthday, compiled a portfolio, finished up my class in drawing at Berkeley City College and went back to Wisconsin for the Christmas holiday. Through it all, I've managed to work at my job and eat and sleep. Truly, it felt like the greatest magic trick of all time.

Now that all of that has passed, I still have some craziness up my sleeve. Classes in physics and architectural history, freelance sewing projects and this weekend--filing my FAFSA.

But. I've made some resolutions for 2010, to limit my commitments so I may do the things I'm doing, only better and with more focus. At least that's the goal.

Cubed

2009-11-19T18:02:00.000-08:00

Just stopped in to show you what I've been catching lately. We had buds in town, and you know, I have plenty of excuses for what's been keeping me from updating lately, but I think that mostly I haven't been around because I've had to adjust my sensibilities a bit since working. As someone who generally gets excited about meeting new strangers and wandering around cities and bright colors and particularly well formed sticks, the office where I work is painfully drab. Furniture and plants and wall colors that are all variations on taupe and forest green, on the seventh floor inside a high rise, inside an office park, AND headsets. I still can't believe I've infiltrated and acclimated to such a scene.

My point is, it's hard to find nice details in the cubicle setting. I can sort of get into the whole office-culture-is-hilarious-thing, with the mini-drama and the abuse of power and the procedure, but it certainly requires a bit of suspended disbelief.

Lately, though, there's been a little light, in the form of the view we have out over the bay. Since clocks rolled back, the sun sets here around 4:50 and every day, I get to see this mini-blind framed sunset.

Some things are breathtaking no matter how you find them.

Remember Summer?

2009-11-07T09:53:00.000-08:00

Last night after a rainy afternoon and the glow of our soccer game wore off, I felt the first chill of fall settle in. I'm fairly ready for it. November is a great month, in my book. I feel more focused, more motivated, well-rested. And Thanksgiving at the end? November is a dream.

But I do miss the light of summer, the lazy dusk that stretches itself across hours, dinners out of doors and the surprising brightness of an overcast day. These prints, all taken June through September, were nice reminders of that so very summer quality of life. Nothing like the familiar warmth in a stack of photos to soften this chill.

The Bake Shop

2009-11-01T13:01:00.000-08:00

Happily over Halloween, we woke up this morning to an extra hour, which gave us time to go for a sweet bite at Neldam's before heading out of the neighborhood. This little neighborhood bakery specializes in Danish pastry, allegedly the oldest scratch bakery in all of Oakland. It's pretty charming, with a genuine DMV style numbering system and generically festive decorations strung all around and classic cakes that can be ordered ahead and customized with things like "Happy Retirement" or "It's a Boy!" This morning a young couple sat in the bakery's classic lawn chairs looking through a three ring binder to pick out their wedding cake.

Every time I've been there, no matter the day of the week, someone is picking up one of these cakes, which leads me to believe that a Neldam's cake is a sort of tradition in lots of Oakland families. This morning a woman who looked to have stopped by on her way home from church, dutifully took a number ticket though she was the only person in line and said, "It should be under Tina." No bother mentioning what should be under Tina, of course. The lady behind the counter produced the box and opened it so she could look over the script. "Oh yes," she granted, "That'll be fine."

It reminds me so much of Gene's Bake Shop, the downtown bakery located conveniently next door to my parents' store when I was a kid. I used to eat their seventy-five cent eclairs or M&M cookies while my parents were working and they were the go-to Saturday morning donut destination when friends slept over. Gene's was a scratch bakery too and everything was made fresh at the bakery, every single morning. When I was in junior high it went out of business after a fire and never reopened, but it was certainly around long enough to make an impression. It's no wonder I'm such a floozy when it comes to the smell of frosted cake.

Neldam's doesn't do eclairs or donuts, but I can highly recommend the bear claw: in this case, a chocolate almond croissant with course sugar dusted on top. And someday, I'm going to invent a special occasion for one of those cakes.

Librarian: Angel

2009-10-31T14:05:00.000-07:00

This isn't a particularly Happy Halloweeny post except for that it happened to me on Halloween and I'm trying to be better about timeliness around here and anyways, haven't you had enough Halloween yet for one year? No? Well then: a trick or treat for luck lovers.

The mailman today brought this large flat envelope to our house, with my name carefully written across the front, with a stamp from the San Francisco Public Library as the return address. I of course assumed the worst: that somehow I'd forgotten to return some wildly valuable book and they'd sent my overdue bill in this envelope, so large it required over a dollar in postage to send. Happily, this was not the case, and rather carefully wrapped up inside was the book present I received from Elana as an early birthday gift three weeks ago, still with gift tag and wrapping paper in tact.

I realized at once that I'd slipped the little Russian children's book into my library book for safekeeping the day I received it and then upon my last visit to SFPL, unknowingly returned them both to the depository. If my life were a dramatic movie, there would be a close up of me dropping it onto the conveyor belt at the entrance (San Francisco is so fancy like that) only to realize the next day that the treasure had been lost forever. Antics would ensue to get it back. In real life, I had just this week begun to wonder where exactly I'd put that little book and some lovely person at the library happened to be looking over me all along.

Since I can't thank this lovely man or lady personally, I'd like to state for the record that this person has something really good coming to them. Twenty dollars found on the sidewalk or two desserts or SOMEthing. Hear that universe? What a nice thing to do for a total stranger.

Oh yes.

2009-10-30T18:24:00.000-07:00

And I forgot to tell you about how this year I got so many birthday presents. Truly, a full recap should follow because it felt like Christmas in October (I'm fairly sure that's what heaven will be: alternating months of Christmas and October, forever, bliss!) (Where again did I find such nice friends? I have no idea.) And oh yes, as I was saying, I'll get to all the nice things I got for my birthday from other people, but the spendiest one was the one I bought for my self, happy birthday to me, and it arrived only last weekend in the mail. Shiny and fancy and new: a Canon T1i.

Still getting used to it, but look! Oooh la la.

Birthday, Girl: the Party

2009-10-21T23:47:00.000-07:00

It seemed logical to just go ahead and wait another eleven October days to post pictures from my birthday party. It did take us two whole days just to finish all the dishes, after all! I always take hosting to next level, wear myself out entirely and overfeed everyone. I made a spreadsheet for cooking and brought home groceries from four different stores. But it was worth it. I love having parties.

I'll make mention of the menu here, which was mostly made in house, with several crucial contributions from especially well-mannered friends, attributed where appropriate.

For the liver:

Tamarind Whiskey Sours

For the belly:

Macaroni & Cheese, featuring Velveeta, my grandma's famous recipe

Rainbow Coleslaw with Buttermilk Dressing

Kobucha Squash salad with spring greens & roasted red onions tossed in a cilantro walnut dressing.

Homemade veggie brats

Grilled potatoes

8 hour marinated tofu log

Tarts of caramelized onions and fennel seed

Homemade caramel sauce and fresh apples

Meats for grilling, of various kinds and shapes (Various)

Stuffed mushrooms (JayDee)

Artichoke Spinach bake dip (Marianne)

Pumpkin chocolate chip bundt cake (Marianne)

Sweet potato salad (Jen)

And last but not least, almond coconut cupcakes with blackberry buttercream frosting. (Miriam)

I think it's safe to say no one went hungry, even after giving our new backyard ping pong setup a thorough workout. And we got party hats to make everyone look funny, which seemed like more fun.
It worked.

ps. Jen was better at taking pictures than me, so a lot of these are hers. She also has a whole lot of them here.

Still Life, in Camera

2009-10-19T14:33:00.000-07:00

I wanted to post this quick series while it was still fresh in my brain, some shots I took yesterday trying to figure out how to do an inspired still life for my drawing class at Berkeley City College. The final drawing came out just as boring as ever and I'm now officially convinced that the Still Life as a genre is dead entirely, but photos are still alive and well. Thank goodness.

These are all from somewhere in West Oakland, but many from the intersection of 17th and Campbell.

The More The Merrier

2009-10-14T18:26:00.000-07:00

So I forgot to mention that we had guests staying with us last week. That's right, guests. A pair of them! in our tiny little apartment. I admit that the cozy quarters crossed my mind when John first mentioned that his friend Joey and his lady friend Lauren would be rolling through town for a few days. For those who haven't yet had the pleasure, our house is no larger than 450 square feet and 100 of those feet are taken up by bicycles and our larger than necessary bathroom. Which leaves less than a hundred square feet per person, divided equally.

They arrived Sunday and spent all day at this big bluegrass festival in San Francisco, where John found them and led them back to our place. And much as I had worried, they soon showed me what it means to say The More, The Merrier.

The two of them are currently on a long drive down the west coast, before Lauren departs on a three or so month tour of the globe through Camaroon, India and Thailand. Am I remembering that correctly now? I think so. Their vehicle is the above pictured truck, which has an actual bed snuggled in back, if you can believe it. They sleep on an air mattress, on top of some sleeping pads, on top of a platform and underneath that, they have those flat boxes to store their clothes and personal effects. It's like a little portable pretend house on wheels and sounds so much nicer, to me anyway, than regular old camping.

Within 24 hours, I felt like they'd been living in our living room for years, in a good way. The two of them hail from Virginia and Tennessee and had such fine manners as I have not seen maybe ever. I had known that Joey was pretty great, down to earth and fun and generous, but Lauren was a nice surprise: sweet and hilarious, with great personal style in clothes and in the way she'd hang out in the kitchen with me while I was washing the only pot she'd dirtied while cooking us dinner. She's one of those really cheerful people, in the very best meaning of the word, that made me remember being vastly ambitious about life once upon a time, and wonder what ever happened to that part. Not to gush or anything, but the two of them are just very quality people.

To be more specific: they washed more than their share of the dishes, and our kitchen enjoyed the longest streak of cleanliness in all the history of its being our kitchen when they were with us; they were happy to go to bed around 11--Lauren almost always in her pajamas by 9, a girl after my very own heart; AND, on their final night in Oakland, John and I arrived home to dinner on the table, coordinated entirely without us. Well, goodness. I was certainly sorry to see them go.

Friends who feel like family have a way of making our little apartment feel more like Home. That, and the fact that Joey makes biscuits...

Checking In

2009-10-13T23:09:00.000-07:00

Hi there. It's been more than a little while since I was here, I realize. Looking back through some of the highlights of the past three weeks, I don't have much to offer in the way of simple explanations or worthy excuses. I've been trying to break some bad internal habits of dealing with stress in order to find a more healthy routine that is manageably balanced and also exciting and progressive. While I haven't arrived there just yet, I feel like I've tread the first several steps. And to do that meant taking a deep breath and letting go of this for a few weeks while I got my sea legs.

This week is the beginning of my four day work week. Four day! Work week! Which hopefully means I'll be posting more regularly again, fingers Crossed. I have plenty to fill you in on from the last little while, but to tide you over til tomorrow, I thought I'd share a quick picture from my birthday party this weekend.

I turned 25. It would seem that I'm growing up.

Soul Style

2009-09-25T10:16:00.001-07:00

In the last year, I've rediscovered music videos. I took a break through college from MTV, et al, and haven't had cable since high school, so now when I see things like this my jaw hangs agape and I'm really fairly bowled over by all that marvel. Sure, they're a bit frivolous. And of course, they're basically commercials. But I love intelligent advertising; it is most absolutely a genre like any other. A good music video is exciting, in its own way, like a blockbuster movie or primetime tv. When it happens to be great and mainstream, well then you know it's really something.

This, for instance. The style in this is unreal: the lead singer, her big hair, that white dress, the dusty old theater and that Porsche 356 convertible. London in the 80's never looked so polished. I love a good song with inspired visuals to set the tone for fall. Don't you?

Happy Birthday, Miriam

2009-09-22T13:14:00.000-07:00

Here's to counting fun with the color of the cotton candy stains on your teeth and friends with forks and years with candles and love with cakes. xo

Scientists make nice artists, yes?

2009-09-18T15:47:00.001-07:00

A short movie by Will Hoffman, put forth by radiolab and inspired by a book.

Beginning with pie.

2009-09-16T14:57:00.000-07:00

This is an old family favorite, but pie for breakfast. Pie. For. Breakfast. Is there a dissenting opinion anywhere in the world on this one? Pie for breakfast! A la mode, even, with your morning coffee. In this case, peach pie made with very very fresh peaches. It may actually be the best thing there is.

Dilly PIckles

2009-09-13T17:00:00.000-07:00

If flowering dill weren't so dern tasty when it's floating in a spicy brine, I'd put the stuff in vases all over my house. That yellow of the flowers is nearly the color of paint covering the walls of our living room and man, I cannot get enough.

Where was I? Oh yes, PICKLES. Usually I'm more of a refrigerator dills sort of a girl, thanks to the expert tutelage of my friend Gerik, but we really wanted to complete this trifecta of canning projects with something more savory. Tomato sauce seemed a bit risky and we'd heard mixed reviews of canned salsa, so with little hesitation we picked up this hefty bottle of vinegar at the store and mixed it up with several shades of carrot and bean.

Keeping with our habit of beer pairings, we sipped a dark porter whose name I can hardly recall. I swear that at the time the beverages were clouding our minds just enough to numb the swell of our ankles and dull our sense of time's passing, not enough to get sloppy in our sterilizing and incubate the makings of botulism. Promise.

In the end, this was probably our least successful of the three recipes, mostly because we lacked the foresight to anticipate how beautiful purple carrots when bathed in hot brine would turn the whole mess violet! Also, we should have erred on the side of stubby vegetables instead of tall ones because while processing them in boiling water, we lost some brine out of the jars. Now the tips of some of our vegetables protrude above their liquid, which is no way to craft a crunchy pickle. Worst case scenario, they'll grow mold. We were really too tired to worry much about it at the end of the day. Total cost for 8 quarts of pickles? $9. If they're inedible, we'll live.

From this insane project I believe we gleaned a few lessons:

1. Jam is best made in small batches to ensure you can get a nice pectinated result.
2. A dishwasher is not for chumps. It is one of modernity's conveniences and comes in handy for washing jars.
3. Refrigerator pickles are probably easier and just as tasty as canned ones. While living in California with year round produce, canning pickles may be actually unnecessary.
4. Three canning projects in one day is a bit of a stretch, but doable.
5. Holiday weekends are perfect settings for crazy projects.

{High Five!}

Strawberry Fig Jam, with break for Hot Dog

2009-09-12T11:00:00.000-07:00

Phase two of what I have coined Canaganza ushered in the red period of our day: Strawberry Fig Jam cooked while sipping a Rogue dry hopped red ale.

We subbed figs for rhubarb in this stage when we failed to locate the rhubarb patch at Berkeley Bowl West, and the combination certainly made for some nice photo ops. Ruby red against plumesque purple was just a photo waiting to be taken. Then I had a little affair with the part of the recipe that instructed us to combine 10 cups of sugar with all that fruit to let it mellow for an hour. Sugar is rather photogenic, in my defense.

Cara's help was instrumental for this part because she not only chopped strawberries, but also juiced all the lemons. You may or may not know that the hero that juices the lemons is contributing the most important part to any jam making project. In the end, we maybe could have used a few more lemons for our monster batch of jam because it's a little on the saucey side. Then again, I don't really mind the saucey side.

After that we had to let it cook for what seemed an eternity, so we broke for a hot dog snack and a root beer float out back. It was exactly what the Preservation Doctor ordered, a Top Dog with everything.

And before we knew it, we were ladeling the hot jam into sterilized jars like professional jammers. Next up: Dilly Pickles.

Glimpses

2009-09-11T11:36:00.000-07:00

Trying to find a subject for my drawing class assignment has turned out to be more difficult than I had anticipated, but sitting on the train tonight I caught these two subjects that would have been perfect.

The first, a woman named Lupe, who was mopping the platform at Embarcadero and the second, a man dressed to the nines in a long black evening jacket with red and green plaid trousers, patent leather shoes and even a flower in his lapel. You can see him striding away between the shoulders of those two girls in the foreground. I'm not quite brave enough yet for asking strangers to take their picture, but I am sneaky and shameless enough to take their pictures anyway however quickly through the car's closing doors. Someday I'll bring you splendid portraits, I promise.

A Record of Life

2009-09-10T04:43:00.000-07:00

I don't know how some people have such capacity between their two hands. This is beautiful:

Peach Butter with Cinnamon and Vanilla Bean

2009-09-09T14:16:00.000-07:00

I mentioned I was out collecting mason jars, but did I mention why? I don't think I did. This labor day weekend, Miriam and I opted to labor over some of late summer's bounty and put it up over 12 odd hours in her cozy kitchen. It was the perfect thing for a three day weekend. One day to gear up, one day to do it, and one day to recover from all the hard work. Maybe we're insane, but we undertook three separate projects to do in one day. Which means that by the end, we'd made more than fifty jars of preserved food to gaze upon with self satisfaction. If that constitutes insanity, then you'd better lock me up. I'd do it again in a heartbeat...but give me some time to get through the stuff. There is a lot of food in my cupboard now waiting to be slurped, spread and crunched upon.

We bought a box of peaches from the Temescal Farmers Market, 50 cents a pound for the bruised ones. Even these were of such high quality that we squirreled away some of them fresh while we were busy cooking down the rest.

Here are some photos of the festivities. I'm going to post them in stages, so that no one has occassion to be overwhelmed. To keep things light, we paired a nice beer with each phase of the process. For the huge batch of peach butter, we selected Anderson Valley's Summer Solstice Cerveza Crema. The beer was light but flavorful, a good combination to savor over the three hours that pot of butter sat on the stove. Waiting for spoon-coating consistency can seem an eternity and so it was important to keep our hands full of cold beverages.

Next up: Strawberry Fig Jams

A Boy and His Bike.

2009-09-07T12:44:00.000-07:00

This Saturday began like any good one should, with a little coffee in the morning and a big plan: garage sales and errands and a good chunk of time to myself. Not that I mind company on the weekend, of course, but lately that hasn't been balanced much with time for absolute solitude. By this weekend, I was ready for it. There is something about browsing through junk and walking around the grocery store that focuses my usually wandering gaze momentarily onto a single dusty plate.

This weekend, I was restricted to going to garage sales in our neighborhood for one reason or another and Miriam had called with a tip on some mason jars on Clarke Street. With backpack and cash in tow, I headed there first. Three little old ladies greeted me warmly, with all manner of things laid out on card tables, pulling evenly from the latest five decades. They were contentedly sitting in the shade, discussing the neighborhood generally while I scoured the piles until I settled on a few silly things: 3 yards of red cotton fabric, a gold barrette, a new belt and an old-fashioned metal ice cube tray. As I traded 8 dollars for the treasures, I asked after the mason jars. The oldest and least mobile of the three indicated that she'd been the one who talked to Miriam and sure, she had some jars, but no one but her knew where to look for them. She'd have to go down to the basement herself, but she wasn't feeling up to it just then. Could I come back a little later on?

Of course, I said, I could certainly stop back later but not to trouble herself too greatly after just these jars. She got a curious look and asked why we wanted mason jars after all. Her friend answered for me, Why, these girls want to make jam! The older one looked again at me doubtfully. Jam? And then what are you going to do with it! Eat it? She chuckled at the thought and told me again to stop back later on. Then she handed me back a dollar, reconsidering after this little while her earlier price on the piece of red cotton fabric.

The younger lady then nodded toward the end of the driveway where a younger boy, of 13 or 14 had set up a stand selling lemonade and had displayed some things of his. I do hope he sells some things, she said to her friend. He's such a nice boy. And you know, his parents don't help him out at all either. But he is such a nice young man.

I said I'd take a look at what I might be able to use, but glanced doubtfully at the old computer printer, skateboard and BMX bike. As a junk collector, I reach more readily for old lady junk than for 13 year old kid junk, but looking more closely, I saw that he was selling an old bike lock too. We can always use another bike lock around our house, with all of our bicycle riding friends, and I asked him the price.

He asked how much I had to spend. I offered five, and he offered seven, and I caved at the higher price, because this was a little kid after all. And a bicycle lock with a working key is a commodity indeed. As I handed him the dollars, I asked why he didn't need a bike lock himself and looked up for the first time at his face.

For a boy, he was pretty quiet and he had nice manners without sounding maladjusted. Although his sneakers weren't name brand or new, they were clean, like he'd made an effort to stay out of the dirt. Well...he said, I'm selling my bike too, so I don't need a lock anymore. I felt a sting in the end of my nose. Oh, I said, a little lump caught in my throat. He handed me the key to the lock, wrapped carefully up in a little plastic sandwich baggie and I placed it into the pocket of my backpack. I turned and headed back to my own bike, feeling fairly rotten.

I had meant to be nice, to buy something he was selling, but that was before I realized he was just a little kid, selling off his bike just as the weather here is getting nice out. I imagined that he needed school supplies or some similarly responsible thing, the kind of kid the elderly ladies next door affectionately call a nice young man, and here I was letting him sell me his bike lock.

My own little brother, another quietly responsible kid who's always been helpful and responsible beyond his years, watched too closely as my grandfather got sick when he was only 12. And here was this kid Chris, who so reminded me of Jake, both without much mischief behind their eyes.

I ran the rest of my errands and came back a few hours later for the mason jars. The bike was still for sale. Another truth hit me after leaving the second time: that if he didn't sell his bike now, he wouldn't be able to ride it without the lock he'd sold me that morning. I was fairly crushed at this thought, but didn't want to meddle. On the other hand, I couldn't bring myself to use the lock, knowing he probably needed it.

At five o'clock I succumbed to the guilt of the thing. I called my mom and laid it out for her. She assured me that I wouldn't seem totally insane if I went back and tried to give it back. So before I really knew what I would say and before I could get nervous, I rode my bike back to Clarke Street for the third time that day. I found Chris next to his own house next door, wearing his bike helmet and getting ready to ride out on his bike.

Hey there, I said, So, no luck selling the bike then? No, he replied, Actually I'm glad you came back. He too, had realized the mistake in selling the lock in advance of the bike, but he seemed troubled over the issue of refunding the money he had already grown attached to. So I proposed a solution. I told him I wanted him to keep the lock as long as he still had the bike. If he did sell it, then he could email me and bring me the lock, but he could hang onto it until then. I wrote down my email address and told him that it didn't really matter how long it took him, I was in no hurry, and in the meantime, he could also hang onto the money I'd already paid him.

I handed him the lock and the key and my whole person felt instantly lighter. He seemed pretty relieved himself. Even if I never see that lock again, I'm not too concerned about the seven dollars, either way. For me, seven dollars is a tiny amount of money, but for a kid, I recall it being quite a lot.. And I'm happy to gamble on the possibility that it is.

First Family Farm

2009-09-03T10:23:00.000-07:00

I love to be pleasantly surprised. I know Alice Waters and Michael Pollan and by now, everyone else under tarnation has implored the new White House to take on food access issues and plant a White House kitchen garden, as existed during the depression. But who knew the Obama's would come through on this one? Not me, that's for sure. I'm feeling so impressed with our first family today:

And I've been having a bit of writer's block lately so bear with me, in the sometimes lengthy interim between posts. I usually don't like to repost other things from around the internet, but I'm making a temporary exception for this.

Adventures, of late

2009-08-24T07:03:00.000-07:00

I've been withholding a minor detail of my state of mind from you people. I have what you might call an elephant in every room right now. He's really terribly enormous and invasive and he seems to whisper, always, the things I should be working on. Drawings, research, letters of recommendation. It being August, it is the beginning of application season, for those of us who dare to apply for graduate school. And this year, of course, that means me.

But last week Miriam had the good idea to take a bike ride out to the furthest point west, in the East Bay, to the port of Oakland for some exploring. It was a great way to ease my mind against its tendency to become overwhelmed and subsequently useless, but also a good time to just pedal and think and formulate. It had been too long since I'd visited a place unknown and it made me want to hop in the car and just drive somewhere new. Maybe with my next visitor, I'll enforce this plan.

Here are some of the parts of our journey that were best suited for a quick picture:

I'm a kid in a candy store, when it comes to industrial landscapes, because they offer such intense contrasts in color and texture. I wish I had a nicer camera, for times like this more than ever, because some of the lines get a little muddy with further distance. The scale is harder to convey, but in case you were wondering, those white cranes behind the shipping containers are bigger than anything with moving parts you've probably ever seen.

Full of Beans

2009-08-22T17:49:00.000-07:00

Check out the texture on these beans that Bert brought us. He's learning lots in the way of roasting coffee, and shared a miniature batch of French roast with us last week. Grinding them up for brewing in the French press, they dissolved into papery, oily little flakes before my eyes; like some precious metal, they actually sparkled a little. The whole pot felt very ceremonious, delivered in that hand stamped tiny bag. It was a nice treat, a step above our usual fare.

I've been feeling like an especially lucky person recently. Bert brought us coffee and gave us a really amazing old Indian cookbook. Miriam gave us surplus heirloom tomatoes and quince jam. And Karrie gave me recently TWO lovely bottles of bitters out of the goodness of her heart. Whatever I did to have such generous friends, I do not know, but I'd like to become that sort of friend myself one of these days.

Today though, I'm happy to count these blessings and put off repayment until tomorrow.

Listless

2009-08-14T19:27:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, I pretty much owe you one. Honestly, August has hit me a bit across the face over here. For one, my tomatoes are still green. Do you know how wrong that is? That's entirely-opposite-on-the-color-wheel wrong. And have we talked about August? How August marks one year since we moved here? One year not quite as I'd planned and one year worth of California sinking into my skin.

One whole year! Especially this year, I really can hardly say how I managed to fill up 365 days, it feels like we only just parked the car in front of Miriam's house and said to each other, Well, Here We Are. But then there are little things that mark time's passing: growth in the garden, most prominently but also, the way the Berkeley Bowl feels old hat and the fact that I no longer include We Just Moved Here in my personal introduction. I suppose it was all the tiniest of things packed together, end to end, that propelled me through this year. It makes it hard to explain what I've been doing when anyone asks, but I know I must have been doing something.

So this California Anniversary it makes me want to write lists of things, just to keep in a little stack, to reference from time to time as way of collecting all the small things and maybe making them feel bigger. I haven't been on any fancy trips this year, I haven't bought a house, I'm certainly not getting married and professionally speaking, well, I haven't done much in that department either. But I did bake at least 5 pies. Made 10 or so jars of pickles. I made Marianne a dress. And took several picnics. And biked to Sonoma. And made some friends. I would really like to have a list of my friends to put on the wall, old fashioned style. Just so that I can remember, if ever that knowledge seems distant. Maybe this, a shorter version can suffice for now:

The goal is every day. A list every day. And the only rule? No TO DO lists allowed.

xo

A Yeti For Everyone

2009-08-05T08:09:00.000-07:00

I've been holding back on a wholly self-indulgent purchase I made at Renegade a few weeks ago, because honestly it's just so silly a present to myself, it must be a sign that the financial drought in our house is over and the rains have come. But when I saw this puppet, I just really wanted it. To have around, to lord over unsuspecting scenarios and wreak some harmless havoc on any days that look to be aiming at regular.

Without further ado, may I present this Yeti, with his silent snarl and moving arms:

The puppets are a little light duty, unfortunately as mine's mobility has decreased somewhat since the purchase, but no regrets, even if it looms statuesque from now on.

Tincture

2009-08-04T07:32:00.000-07:00

What will cure the ailing heat-lover her suffering the blustery summers of northern coastal California? One cocktail of whiskey and lavender syrup, with just a splash of soda.

Soothing, refreshing, and best of all, packs some heat.

Slow Motion

2009-08-03T18:13:00.000-07:00

I loved this series that Roxanne caught at dinner, the three of us wearing sweaters in shades of popsicle and laughing like crying.

First of Many

2009-07-29T21:58:00.000-07:00

Obviously there are the daily howdies. The sharing of sugar, flour and eggs. The occasional dog walking sorts of favors and chit chatting on the front stoop to digest the humdrum of our days. But there is one thing about neighboring that doesn't occur to the mind immediately upon moving in: that someday you'll co-host a dinner party together with your two kitchens, your two sinks, your two sets of plates and forks and knives. And that together, the two of you will maneuver a cart full of produce around the Berkeley Bowl and gather a mix of friends to feast upon it--two sets of hands at the helm of the ship, steering it toward the dusky table where masterfully, you'll feed the people.

With a little planning last weekend, Marianne and I did just that in the second half of a Sunday afternoon. Chopping vegetables and finding ways to prep things for grilling in our rather cozy kitchen was challenging, but also meditative; washing dishes between rinsing mint and pots balancing on stools, for instance.

No matter how much you think about setting the table, I love when you can count on the guests to contribute top-shelf costume elements to the mix. That orange pattern pictured was a jumpsuit Nicole wore, and she may as well have overtaken that small vase of daisies as our centerpiece.

It was the first time we've played host to so many people at once, now with the expanded space of our backyard to use. And we billed it as a trial run for our grill, which newly functions thanks to some rigging. On both counts, it was quite a success, as the grill carried on like a champ and our otherwise huge table felt perfectly sized, and we settled in elbow-to-elbow over some of the finest food of my summer.

The menu was changing up until the last minute, but at last count featured: White Sangria; Goat Cheese with Roasted Garlic dip; New Potato Salad with Salsa Verde, Grilled Corn & Shaved Fennel; Panzanella; Red Onion, Eggplant, Zuchini, Mushroom & Lemon wedge skewers with Red Pepper Pumpkin Seed Slather; and for dessert, a Gingersnap Mascarpone tart topped with stone fruits and fresh mint.

House Guests

2009-07-26T10:11:00.001-07:00

Living in a Destination City, for me, has been a new experience. Philadelphia, for some reason, fails to attract vacationers' attention like the Bay Area and though some people came to visit us while we lived there, they were more interested in quality time with us than in the Liberty Bell.

Since moving here last fall, on the other hand, we've hosted six friends on our couch and seen several others while they were in town. Even after all this traffic, I still don't feel like I know how to entertain them, aside from going to the Berkeley Bowl to buy produce with abandon and drinking beers in the middle of the day and driving to the beach. Most of my friends by now are happy with this simple plan, but I hope that at some point I can add some other tricks to the repertoire. If you're looking for a vacation that revolves around meals and lying around, we will be sure to show you a helluva time. If you're hoping for a tour guide, I'm not sure what to tell you.

This last go around, we had two favorites in town: Kathleen of Astoria, and Mary Wegmann, soon to be of Portland. They are easy going sorts of friends.

Mostly we employed the usual tactics: a hike to the albany bulb, a drive to the coast, Burmese food to die for and a picnic apiece. Mary Wegmann brought some fresh beer from Wynkoop in Colorado, a peppery brew which we enjoyed thoroughly.

With Kathleen, John arranged for a particularly eventful event: a headless dead bird fell out of our tree, while the two were sitting in the chairs in our backyard. After exclaiming thoroughly at the insanity of it, they gave the poor guy a proper burial, not before documenting the unlikely, unsightly thing. I'm not sure this sort of thing will ever become a regular on the Mary-and-John-Oakland-celebrity-tour, but for Kathleen, a bird enthusiast, it was certainly a notable occurrence. And one you will not find in any guidebook. Here is a snapshot, but beware it is a bit graphic.

I think we'll stick to the easy going sort of hosting duties, feeding and sheltering and the like. That way, the unexpected headless birds have room to fall from the sky and you'll quite possibly have a perfectly unbelievable story to tell the folks back home. What more could you want in vacation?

Kaleidoscope Weekender

2009-07-15T21:05:00.001-07:00

You can't plan being this technicolor, but when it happens it makes you feel like you're on fire. Like the momentum of your life is unstoppable, like everything is going to work out and like you are at the center of it all. But then again, maybe your new orange sweater is just stealing all the light.

On Saturday Marianne, pictured above, made me the most amazing meals I've eaten in recent memory, also pictured above. They were bursting with summer's vegetal bounty, in all shades of yellow and orange and green. And they tasted as much, if not more.

Like That

2009-07-12T08:33:00.000-07:00

Although we've been undertaking plenty of projects lately, we've also taken whole days off to relax in honor of the various mid summer holidays, including the Fourth of July, Pride weekend and the like. These swatches of uninterrupted leisure time have yielded a few photos here and there, but very little to report. Mostly I think, with my new routine of steady employment, I'm more comfortable putting my feet up and sitting in the sunshine than I have been in quite a while.

As anyone who has struggled with the cruel ritual of job hunting can tell you, the hardest part about not working is not the lack of paycheck. Not the depression. Not the feeling that you're less than human. But rather the feeling that you never stop working, that there's no end in sight, that you're constantly engaged in the process of sending out resumes and waiting for responses and hoping. That standing obligation to convince others of what you know you can do is one of the more exhausting conditions of nowaday.

And so I find myself in the very middle of summer, with a rather lovely excuse to stop all of that, for the first time in a year. I find myself feeling more like myself again, a person who lives to enjoy the present tense. Working, sometimes, is a beautiful thing like that.

All I Can Think About

2009-07-02T19:06:00.000-07:00

Is the dinner parties to come! John put the finishing touches on our measure it, 96 inch! picnic table yesterday. That's seating for 10 at least, 12 if we're cozy. Since moving into our miniature apartment last fall, I've been dreaming of hosting outdoor style dining events but haven't had the furniture to turn that dream into a reality.

But Saturday we joined the tool library, and checked out a jigsaw (they were out of circular saws), which made the sawing a whole lot easier. And Sunday we bought materials and started cutting all the wood to size, and then a little every day after work we kept working on it, through several snags in our directions, until yesterday when John championed it and finished it without me in the middle of the day.

That's all salvaged wood, which came in way under the budget I'd made for Fresh From Home Depot lumber and I love the variations in the top. We may seal it up one of these days but since it so seldom rains out here, we're not in any rush.

ps. Ryan requested a "full body shot" so I'm adding it here. I'm a sucker for close ups, and so sometimes forget the bigger picture. My bad.

When in Rome

2009-06-29T09:18:00.000-07:00

Here is the remainder of our days in Philly, most of which were spent retracing old routes and enjoying the familiarity of the city's bumpy streets, perfect skyline and friendly faces. With meals like roadsigns, we set out to capture not only the very best parts of our three year existence but added to it, the landscape of life in Philly now, in a whirlwind of five short days. It feels so GOOD to see your friends.

On the Things We Did In Philly Past side of things: getting tofu hoagies from Fu Wah, in West Philadelphia; drinking a Citywide Special over pool at Fiume on a Monday night; beers and dog watching in Clark Park; Sarcone's sandwiches (we saved these for the airport); Indian buffet at Sitar with the extended Gang; standing in line to buy 8 dollars worth of vital wheat gluten at Mariposa; a ride on the broad street line through city hall (shiver) to transfer to the Green Line; the walk for a case of Lion's head, complete with word puzzle bottle caps home from Salt & Pepper; taking my seat on the bench outside Via Bicycle to wait for John to fix our flat tire; the view from Sabrina's across Christian Street in the Italian market; talking with Sue in her bright sunny studio about every single thing; and the smile that crossed my face watching John and Ryan riding the tandem together, two peas in one pod.

And of the Philadelphia that postdates our move, we got to see a new apartment for Halimah and Larissa, while breakfasting on a fruit salad of melon and avocado and lots of toast and picking out clothes from Halimah's closet. We drank late night coffee at Starr Garden (that's that dark rectangle directly below) to refresh ourselves after jet-lag and barbeque at Brie and Sebastian's new house. We saw new workplaces for three friends at a restaurant, a gelateria and a storefront. We checked out Local 44, the new fancy gastropub in our neighborhood with a huge beer selection and a nice bartender.

This photo courtesy of Sue & her fancy new camera.

Can't say when we'll be back next, but I sure hope it's Soon.

Pooling

2009-06-29T00:23:00.000-07:00

Never underestimate how happy a pool party will make you. Even if it's a bit of work and even if it requires a lot of prepping and even though you require a new bathing suit and the water's too cold and you don't actually like to swim. No matter what, you should get started planning one because truly, you will thank me later.

Our friend Halimah's parents, whose home is nestled in a nook out in Narberth, PA, have graciously allowed us to hold aquatic court at their home, in the form of pool parties, three years running. They always entail about a quarter tank of propane in grillable vegetarian products, badminton, ping pong and all the trimimings. This year, in honor of our annual (or so they say) visit, we piled into a fleet of automobiles (RIP to the Pony Pants band van, that held us all so cozily within you) and headed west to relax. By now perhaps you've guessed, it failed to disappoint.

Though we're not necessarily equipped to install an in-ground pool in our backyard, we're officially in the market for a ping pong table.

The Wedding of Colin & Sarah

2009-06-28T12:22:00.000-07:00

The impetus for our trip! It deserves its own post, I have to say, so here it is. I'm just going to use photos because weddings are a bit, er, self-explanatory. But before I do, I must extend a virtual high five to Andrew and Whitney, some of the most fun people I've come across in my adult life; and to Ben and Katherine, who were impeccably dressed and completed the trifecta which made ours the second best table at the wedding.

ps. Here are my tired feet in the light of Lauren's room after returning home. Congrats to Colin & Sarah, who both looked beautiful in a gray suit and old fashioned lace gown, respectively, despite my camera's focus on the friends at our table.

Back to the Present, briefly

2009-06-27T12:16:00.000-07:00

Lemon corn waffles under fresh stone fruits and strawberries tossed with fresh basil and topped with whipped cream. All that and served up along with a conversation about hand guns' role in the rural and shooting range setting. I realize I only just posted about last Saturday's brunch yesterday, but in my defense, brunch is quite the flirt.

Happy Saturday.

Happiness Is

2009-06-26T10:07:00.000-07:00

Arriving in town amidst drizzle, being swept off your feet and whisked away to homestyle brunch and then lingering over coffee and watermelon mimosas, until you are escorted out back to see that the garden you left behind last summer is now exploding with tomatoes, cucumbers and perennials. Even the raining part was a welcome sight to those of us from drought country.

Our trip to Philly was a grand success. This is the tip of the iceberg.

Soundtrack: Philadelphia by Atom and his Package

Via Philadelphia

2009-06-19T11:01:00.000-07:00

People out here ask me all the time, "Where are you from?"

It's a perfectly reasonable question, especially because here in San Francisco most of the residents have relocated from somewhere else. The concentration of the young, attractive, healthy and progressive is just too high for any natural urban evolution. We tend to flock here in droves, and so when people inevitably ask me the big question, I usually just say Wisconsin because it's shorter than the truth.

While Wisconsin is certainly where I was born, and where I was raised, and where I go when I'm going Home, the truth about where I am from is somewhat more hairy. I feel like I did a fair amount of growing up in New York State, where I went to school, in New York city, where I first learned to know a city, in St. Petersburg where I learned to go it alone and mostly, in Philadelphia, where I made my first permanent home.

These days there seems to be a great divide between the people I know who pick up and leave to travel the world and live out of some combination of a tote bag, a bicycle pannier and a backpack, and the people who go somewhere to stay, to sign a lease and build a life in a single place. While both have attractive qualities, I've always fallen quite softly into the latter group because of how happy I am to settle in. Knowing my neighbors, building a routine, hanging up curtains and learning the best parts of a city are things I count as blessings.

And yet, I have an eagerness to live in new places, which has now carried me into my fifth urban residence since high school. So when I'm asked where I'm from, I have such a compound sentence at the ready. "Well..." it always starts. "Wisconsin, via New York State via Philadephia."

My hybrid loyalties to both the nomads and the settlers has made this most recent move bittersweet. And this weekend we're headed to Philly and it will be my first visit since leaving that great city last August. A tiny part of me is nervous that I'll feel more at home while I'm there visiting that past-tense landscape than I do out here in California. It will be a good litmus test for me, to sort out my mix of feelings around our move to the west coast; the lingering regret over leaving a life we loved and the strength of conviction that we did the right thing, for the sake of the adventure. Change, I'm always reminding myself, is a good thing.

I'm excited beyond words for these next five days, whatever the result. I think I'll count happy visits back in the "Advantages to Moving" column of my pros and cons chart...or would if I had one of those.

Sporadically

2009-06-17T10:36:00.000-07:00

I've something to confess, friends. Though it's not set in stone, I've begun working at a JOB recently.

Which leaves far too little time for the number of projects I'd been undertaking at an increasingly ambitious pace this spring. Including my commitments around here. Caramels have been keeping me rather busy, besides the actual 9 to 5, in addition to learning how to compost using red worms, joining a soccer team and oh did I mention, sampling the homebrew?

That last task has taken up the better part of my evening two nights running and I dare say I'll probably have another one tonight as I wrap the last of the caramels for the highly anticipated wedding of Colin and Sarah, which we plan to attend this Sunday. And depending on how it goes, I may even whip up a dress for the occassion.

In Costume and Pretty Crazy

2009-06-12T16:24:00.000-07:00

Last weekend John and I went to see Chris play in his new band, Eldridge Eyes at Fort Gallery here in Oakland. Hardly ten blocks from our house, it was a breeze to get to and the venue is really nice for music, as well as for art. Bands usually occupy their rearest room (there are several) and its intimate but roomy, bright but dim. Right now the gallery is showing a collection of motley photos, by various photographers, framed in sort of raggedy old mis-matchy frames which I rather like.

EE was really great, especially considering it was their very first weekend performing anywhere. They're last song was heavy and optimistic and had some pretty psychedelic vocals I'll be anxious to hear more of. They were joined by another baby band, Free Execs, who were a one boy, one girl duo that sounded ten times bigger than they were. An orchestra sized sound coming out of only two people. And then there was this other band, which might have annoyed me if I were performing with them because it sort of turned into a one band show, owing to a string of three dimensional teddy bear bunting that read "I Like You" and the spectacle that followed. This band was called Terror Pigeon Dance Revolt, to give you some idea. Their music is a bit manipulative, as they basically repeat affirmative sorts of phrases, like There's Nothing About You I Don't Love and I Know We All Get To Be Like That Sometimes. So that half way through their first song, I felt like I'd seen them somewhere before, maybe at a Dan Deacon/Atom and His Package split 7" release party, but this time they'd come bearing disguises for the YOU to wear and expected some help in putting this big old show.

Because I realized it'd be difficult to explain in words what this experience was like, I just took my handy dandy video camera and made a quick sample sized movie for you. Keep an eye out for the giant glowing robot:

Costumes Dancing from Mary Casper on Vimeo.

It's not that it wasn't pretty fun. Fun, as in Chris wearing a shark hat and a pumpkin costume simultaneously, mind you. It's just that it feels difficult to wholeheartedly enjoy that particular hipster, art kid, prop-based brand of fun and still go home and look yourself in the eye again, you know? So, while the curmudgeonly gentlemen who lives inside me remains skeptical of such antics and showmanship, I think it was still technically fun. And I like fun.

June Potluck, in Style

2009-06-08T20:27:00.001-07:00

Real cherries, in a kaleidoscope of gold and red, nestled here inside a vinegar-kissed butter crust. I'd almost forgotten how perfect cherry pie could be.

How to Make It Home Alive

2009-06-06T09:14:00.000-07:00

As with the trip, the third day was our longest and just as it took 10 hours to do the actual biking, it took me a little while to work up the strength to transcribe it here. We heated up real coffee with the last of our stove fuel and made some barely passable oatmeal before packing everything up and leaving town for good. Our route to the east out of town started with a big big hill but then we found ourselves smooth sailing through a valley with the sun shining and the wind at our backs. Some construction, by luck actually, sent us along a concurrent small country road that couldn't have been more idyllic if we had made it ourselves, a hundred years ago in anticipation of riding down it now.

We started out in Sonoma County and it took until after midday to cross over to Napa, right around the time we stumbled upon a taco truck in the middle of a field where we pulled in for lunch. And with burritos longer than my forearm, including fingers, we sat at a picnic table in the side yard of an abandoned storage facility and chowed down. The hunger satisfaction ratio was right around critical, so that just recalling this meal makes my stomach sigh with gratitude. Dreams, it seems, really do come true.

Even so, we dared not devour our entire burritos right there, with 50 miles (optimistically) looming ahead. Rationally, a burrito longer than your forearm, lying in your belly does not an eager cyclist make. So we saddled up, thanked our hosts for the hospitality, and headed down the road.

We hardly made it a hundred feet before a man in a camper pulled over to give us some advice about even more construction on the highway ahead, and conveniently, a bike detour we should look out for. Grateful for the foresight, we hung a right and traversed the countryside full of rolling hills, vineyards and pastures, along roads we had mostly to ourselves. With the exception of a particularly territorial peacock. He left his post at the entrance to his farm only to chase us, aggressively, at the sight of our camera. We hopped back on the bikes and ran away. John was crying a little bit, but we were physically unharmed.

And things continued in a positive direction for much of the afternoon. Karmically, we were due for a mishap, as we'd had pretty solid luck throughout the trip. And sure enough, our route got confusing almost immediately after the lovely detour rejoined the main highway. Ahead, at the very intersection where our directions insisted we merge onto 29, stood a sign that said no bicycles allowed.

Thinking sorts, we tried to recall the maps we'd studied prior to departure but with little success. So we decided to just head south and hope for the best, placing our faith naively in the logic of rural roadways. We turned and began to follow a bicycle trail which we hoped might take us down river to again join up with our cue sheet later on. To no avail, I might add, as this bicycle trail instead looped around through a marsh past a commercial wine-making facility, only to dead end in the middle of a field with private property signs all around.

After making nice with the private property holders and asking directions, we turned entirely around and headed north (and due opposite from where we were ultimately headed) to catch the road that we hoped could carry us home. By this point, we'd added almost fifteen extra miles to the day, which was beginning to close in on 4 o'clock.

Once we were back on track, we realized that our next many miles would be along the shoulder of a very busy four lane highway with a speed limit which would honestly prevent both of our mothers from sleeping soundly through the night. But we took it slowly, paid attention and chugged along. That is until John got himself one flat tire, along a stretch with no easy exits. Which caused us to amble over a landscaped berm in a brand new Marriott parking lot in order to have a safe spot to stand while he swapped out the innertube. Which only took a minute because John is a juggler at fixing bikes.

Meaning he's pretty good at it.

And before you knew it, we were headed through Vallejo and over the Carquinez Bridge. Here we are happily on the other side.

We stopped to gobble up the remaining halves of the burritos (remember those?) and we were awfully glad to have exerted such self control earlier in the day. By 6 we were headed through the towns of the northeast bay: Rodeo, San Pablo, Richmond and lickety split, finally back on the Ohlone Greenway trail. Things got familiar again, like our shadows.

Just as the sun was setting, we pulled up to our house. At last! We were so excited that we danced around for a bit. Gingerly though, as we were still sporting cycling shoes.

I was so tired, I almost couldn't toast my oversized novelty celebration beer in honor of completing 203 innaugural bike tour miles.

I said almost.

How To Keep On Going

2009-06-05T08:31:00.000-07:00

Day Two started off well, except that our amazingly seductive compact camp stove turned out to be less efficient than we would have liked and we used up most of our fuel the night before making dinner. And Long Story Short, we couldn't make any coffee. Boo! Camping with no coffee? I was ready to quit right there. But with a little coaxing and some reverse psychology, John was able to convince me that we could probably find some in town. And who knew? We were to pass through town that very Morning. I was hopeful. We took in a quick view of the lake at our campground, John secured a photo for his 2009 Christmas card and we left for our Day Two: Tour de Sonoma.

As you might expect, there were some vineyards involved. Rolling, rolling hills of vines as far as you could see. Naturally we stopped a few times along the way to sample some of the local nectar. We decided that the Chardonnay at DeLoach won for Tastiest Snack of the day. They're located outside of Santa Rosa on a rather fancy estate, but we couldn't stay long as we were headed for Guerneville and the mecca at Korbel.

But those 20 miles or so between the two were very hard work. Really, just stren-u-ous. We were parched by the time we reached the Champagne tasting room. We obliged and stayed for a few sips of Champagne in their cozy tasting room, before taking to the patio with a small bottle of Brut for sandwiches of summer snausage (Field Roast) and Gouda on sourdough baguette. Something about those flavors, overlooking the Russian River, accompanied by a small glass of Champagne made for such a perfect lunch.

We passed through Guerneville long enough to note its quaint small town feel and motley crew of townies, before beginning our homeward loop. This amusement park sums up Guerneville oddly well. While trying to get a better photograph of it, we were hollered at by a neighbor who declared the road leading up to it to be Private Property. It's a bit of an adjustment in rural places to remember that regular looking streets are often not public roadways. Getting lost can be tantamount to trespassing, if you're not careful. In any case, we found this private property declaration a bit offputting and so we scooted.

And on that note, we headed back toward Santa Rosa, but on the other side of the river. The road, a small winding country route with very little car traffic was so pretty we forgot to document it. So you'll just have take our word. So breathtaking and quiet that we forgot to take another picture until we hit the Santa Rosa city limit, thirty miles later.

And just then, I happened to notice the trip odometer, thus far.

Our whole plan for day two culminated at Russian River Brewery at happy hour where we got to have a couple of Tasty Tasty craft beers: Pliny the Elder, Consecration and Perdition. Three of the finest beers I've tasted in quite a while, though the sense of entitlement may have something to do with it.

After that we made dinner by campfire, squared away the food so we wouldn't be devoured by bears and fell fast asleep. Our two day total: 110 miles.

Stay tuned for the third chapter: How to Make it Home Alive

How To Set Out

2009-06-04T22:33:00.000-07:00

I'm presenting the account of Our Very First Bicycle Tour (please, hold your applause) in three parts. Mostly so as not to overwhelm you with awe, but also so that you can focus more intently on the details which carried our trip from the just so-so level of fun up to the more elevated, grand level. We definitely achieved the highest level of fun.

First so we're on the same page about what exactly it was that we did, let me say that our trip was a bicycle tour, with camping. Not bike camping, but a short trip with camping accommodations and cycling every single day. Bicycle touring generally refers to traveling by bicycle over some distance, with the emphasis on the journey, while bike camping is just biking to your camping destination in order to camp. In both cases, the rider carries all belongings atop the bicycle, though on a tour, one may opt to sleep in hotels, houses, hostels in addition to camping. In my mind, the inclusion of the word Tourism helps to emphasize the leisurely pace of travel, the emphasis on sightseeing and the ambitious nature of such plans.

We left mid-morning on Sunday with our sights set on a small campground outside of Santa Rosa which would be our home for the two nights of our three day excursion. Mostly so we could leave some of our weight behind the second day and tackle more countryside. In addition to regular bike clothing, extra socks and a toothbrush, we also carried with us a full outfit of camping equipment: one tent, 2 sleeping bags, 2 sleeping pads, 2 aluminum plates, a 2 qt. pot and a small stove.

All of this was carried by way of a handlebar bag for each of us, and a set of panniers for each of us; in fact, my set had been whipped up in a frenzy only 12 short hours prior to our departure. Like magic!

John gets full credit for devising our route, which was concocted from a combination of Google maps, Mapmyride and the various county bike maps available in pdf on the internet. That way we were able to investigate the route accurately and with an eye for safety, in order to make it ultimately the most enjoyable. Because it's much more fun to obviate potential arguments over traffic situations, it was worth it to spend plenty of time perfecting the cue sheet and double checking the size of a road's shoulder.

Our route began with a short 9 mile warmup ride up to the El Cerrito del Norte BART station, where we caught a bus across the Richmond Bridge and into San Rafael, CA.

And really we were off to a good start. We met John's ghost of cycling future in San Rafael, who rode with us a good three miles or so. A man of 60 or so who shared John's facial bone structure, cycle enthusiasm and hometown of Charlottesville, Virginia. The coincidence was eerie. In spite of all the interesting similarities, we failed to snap a picture of the man and so he lives on as a mere figment of our imaginations. Instead, we got a shot of how the man might remember us:

From there we took a scenic route to Santa Rosa, via Petaluma. This leg involved a great valley, a big hill and a small redwood forest.

John wasn't always way out in front of me, but he was some of the time. Especially when we were headed uphill. We did manage to arrive at our destination together. We made camp quickly before the sunset and were so tired we didn't even have a campfire. This exhaustion turned quickly to lunacy; somewhere between setting up the tent and sleeping inside it, we all but lost it, as evidenced by that wink. I couldn't stop winking! The wilderness works in mysterious ways.

62 miles down. Stay tuned for How to Keep On Going, the next installment of Our Very First Bicycle Tour.

I could go on and on

2009-05-29T09:45:00.001-07:00

But I love these guys. I love their shirts. I love their simple, smart, catchy words and their font. We used to work in a neighborly fashion back in Philadelphia at 319A N. 11th St. And they just opened up a store, not too far from these old friends and I happened to just catch up with the commercial they made for their grand opening. It is FUNNY, let me just warn you.

If memory serves, this is either a riff on an old classic from College Humor or a riff on any local clothing commercial produced from 1995 onward. Either way, solid marketing.

Big Plans

2009-05-28T13:03:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago we hatched a scheme for biking and camping up in Sonoma County at the end of John's semester. But then there was the craft fair, and other things, and you know how it goes, it's almost June and we're still planning. Tuesday one of us, fell off his bike and sliced open his hand. To the tune of Three Stitches. I'm not going to name any names of course, but let's just say our ETD was Sunday morning and now it may be a bit further afield than that.

But, ever ready lady that I am, I whipped this little number up on Monday. It's a handlebar bag for myself. For carrying some tools maybe, the map or some variety of snack. Here it's modeling on the front end of John's bicycle, just because his bars are shinier than mine are. And that makes them more photogenic.

It came together from the scraps of some newly shortened Dickie's and some leather scraps that were just lying around. So whenever we do head out on this grandly planned small adventure, I'll be ready to roll.

Speaking of Hikes at the Park

2009-05-28T00:00:00.000-07:00

The parks out here never cease to amaze me. They are far more breathtaking, far more extravagant and far more exciting than any Local Nature I've explored in the past. Sure the Hudson Valley is nice enough, and certainly Pennsylvania has its moments, but it's really an entirely separate league out here. If these various Natures were college sports, we're talking Division I and Division III. They aren't even in the same championship.

So I find that every time I go hiking out here--something that I've never done voluntarily before--I am caught up by the minutiae of it all. That is, the redwood forests, the ocean, the mountains. You know, the big dogs of landscape. All of a sudden, I'm grossly captivated by the tiny parts of that great majestic whole and standing there, mouth open and zoned out. Maybe it's my own little test to see if the grand vista holds up to my awesome scrutiny. In any case, I lose track of myself and have to jog to catch up to my fellow hikers. And it feels so healthy to do that, I also can't help myself but get lost in it.

California Nature, I'm telling you, is an endlessly unfolding book of wonder. Because not only were all of these moments from one single hike, but captured in one single spot.

Ack!

2009-05-27T22:13:00.001-07:00

How does a girl get so busy?! I've been downright neglectful. It all started because I was thigh high in caramel. It sounds hot, but not like you think...

Caramels are so much work! The craft fair was fun, but exhausting. So I had to do some really heavy duty relaxing after that. A good night's sleep, donuts, a trip to the flea market, lunch at Jen and Larry's house, a hike at the park and then a rare treat.

Thanks to Marianne for keeping me well fed, always. This is called a "Cookie Connection"

You know how there's a man's man? Well this one makes me want to coin the term, Sundae's Sunday.

Tiny Craft Fair!

2009-05-19T06:14:00.000-07:00

I'm in it! Woot! Selling caramels for the first time in person out here in California.

It's THIS Saturday from 10-4 at Knit One One in South Berkeley. Read more here. And if you live here, and even if it's just to say hey, you should come.

Snapshots from a Saturday Barbeque

2009-05-19T05:40:00.000-07:00

Our friend Anthony's special lady, Ruth just finished her master's thesis (!) and there was a grilling event on Saturday to celebrate. Anthony's house has a particularly memorable backyard and Garden, owing to his particularly crafty housemates who are not currently in graduate school. And anyway I just took some pictures of the things happening in their backyard while lingering over my beer, and there were plenty to note.

The epic woodpile really set a tone.

The light in this tree was so summer.

I couldn't stop myself.

Empty plate, empty shoe.

Coldframe sort of box built from old windows.

Dinos.

Great outdoor table under all those grillettes.

A keg of homebrew.

The last of the light.

The garden was full of stranger children and I felt funny taking pictures of stranger children so you'll have to wait til next time I visit for pictures of that. But I'm telling you, artichokes like hydrangeas. Patience, I'm always reminding myself, is a virtue.

Our Volvo Is A Champion

2009-05-18T12:27:00.000-07:00

My Friday afternoon went something like this.

Roxanne: Want to drive me to Monterrey tomorrow and back to pick up a table and chairs? I'll pay you fifty bucks plus gas money!
Me: Of course!
Roxanne: Super!
Me: Super!

Maybe I'm a pushover. Or maybe fifty dollars is a lot of money these days. Monterrey is 2 and a Half Hours away, friends. And it was SO HOT out on Saturday in our wagon with no air conditioning and vinyl seats. But I knew I'd made the right decision when we pulled into an In N Out Burger at 11:30 in the morning for "breakfast", unflinching, and Roxanne not only bought me lunch (not part of the deal, you'll recall) but also Taught Me How A Real Californian Orders At In N Out. Let me just say Animal Style, people. Grilled Onions, Special Sauce, Cheese and Pickles atop French Fries. Oh baby. I should have documented, but I was too busy getting all the nubbins from the bottom of that little paper boat and sucking down my silky chocolate milkshake.

With that caliber fuel in our belly we set off again down the freeway, bound for glory in the way of a formica dining set located in Seaside. Jennifer, the peddler, lived in some pretty wacky military housing near the DoD base in Monterey. We must have been catching some radiation or something because we got a little spun around, wandered through a commencement at the nearby Cal campus, stumbled across a self-proclaimed Scout Hut, noticed that all the cars in the whole town were sporting For Sale signs, got some bum directions to an atm and then took the longest possible route to her house.

But finally Jennifer greeted us warmly and even helped us strap the thing on top of the car before we got back in and headed off back in the direction from whence we'd come.

All in all, it felt pretty quick; down and back in roughly 6 hours, with only a driver's sunburn and a memento to prove we'd been gone at all. Roxanne finally has a table! Hooray! And now I know where Watsonville is. But the very best part was the new friend bonding. Even mini-roadtrips are good for that.

A partner in crime...

2009-05-18T12:00:00.000-07:00

Is the very best sort of partner.

Mid day green goddess themed snack. And Beer! In the middle of the damned day. I may be losing it, but at least I've got company.

Now we just have to wait.

2009-05-14T10:56:00.000-07:00

So John finished with school this week, an event we celebrated on Monday evening with Jelly Beans and Beer at the park. One whole year of graduate school closer to being Doctor Geography is nothing to sneeze at.

So that also means that now I have an extra set of hands around here for things that are really more of a two person job. The first on the list was getting that aforementioned hefeweizen into bottles so they can start carbonating and aging so that we can drink it. You may however remember that the most dreaded, most labor intensive part of the whole process is when you have to put that stuff into bottles, a process that goes something like this: power wash, suds it up, rinse it WELL, sanitize, and then repeat.

It takes a while just to get everything prepared and then you have to also siphon the tasty beer from the primary into the bottling bucket (I've reverted to single stage fermenting since moving here, as it is a bit simpler in our tiny quarters), managing to leave the trub behind, mixing in the sugar, keeping everything Clean. And then actually dispensing it into those shiny vessels and capping them all off. I'm getting tired just thinking about it.

But we did it. John cleaned the kitchen and kept things orderly while I cleaned out the bottles and then we did that brilliant waltz described up there of doing the damned thing and afterwards, John scrubbed the floor. Truly.

Afterwards, the payoff is all those shiny bottles lined up on the countertop ready to do their part and turn that delicious hoppy liquid into something refreshing. Now we just have to wait.

I couldn't have done this one alone. Thanks to Andrew and Miriam for being such trooper beer drinkers and giving us a bundle of bottles. And thanks to Gerik back in January for so considerately saving those big old 33 oz. re-sealable bottles he drank out here, which were Great for this.

Seasonal Specialties

2009-05-14T10:28:00.000-07:00

Or, what's on sale at the Berkeley Bowl. And how to use it before it spoils! Good looking strawberries, for one. These became strawberry shortcake with corn shortcakes and whipped cream taken to Kate and Elana's house for dessert.

And over ripe hot house tomatoes, turned fresh salsa.

But the bag of Five Ready-to-eat-yesterday Very Large Haas Avocados has me a little puzzled. I'm taking suggestions about what to do with them. Guacamole obviously, but five avocado guacamole seems a bit much. Am I wrong?

Help me save them!

Whats Better than Bananas?

2009-05-13T13:30:00.000-07:00

Banana Bread of course. I even have proof. While a bunch of bananas sat untouched in the fruit basket in our kitchen for a Week, people, that loaf of banana bread was half gone by the time we went to sleep. And that's after it popped out of the oven at 6 o'clock. PM. That's a lot of nibbling to happen before bedtime.

The chocolate chips scattered in there may be partly to blame, because last time I checked regular bananas don't come in a chocolate chip variety, though if God knew what was good for him he might try making that happen.

Terrace, In Progress

2009-05-10T06:00:00.000-07:00

We've been undertaking a huge project around here lately: turning our inhospitable dirt yard & non-functioning driveway into a backyard space that will not only grow tasty food, but also be home to many fabulous garden parties and ultimate relaxation. Up there, through the window, that's the Before.

While the former goal, as you know, is well on its way, we have yet to hang out back there. I've only just begun to find some things that will spruce up the place and turn it from dingy driveway into a place for sitting. And already, I sense a bold color palette emerging.

We're still configuring all the disparate elements and in the end we hope to have an outdoor dining setup. But I dare say, the thing is well on its way. Assembling patio-type furnishings that are neither plastic nor expensive is tricky business it turns out, but our luck is finally changing. We're now the proud owners of 2 loungers, 2 benches, 2 chairs (plastic, but forgivably) and a ceramic Swan, all of whom are becoming acquainted. With a little finesse and some rigged lighting, I think they'll get along swimmingly.

I can almost taste the mojitos we'll be sipping out on the Terrace.

Solid Saturday

2009-05-09T17:07:00.000-07:00

In heaven, all Saturdays would start with a half dozen Golden Gate donuts eaten in the car en route to five estate sales, culminating with a fancy Floral brunch in the early afternoon. In fact, if every day in heaven went something along these lines, I wouldn't much object. Especially if I had such stellar company as Roxanne, Marianne and Jen for each go around. Groundhog Day, I say, bring it on.

A sampling of today's loot, in order of acquisition:

Square Ceramic Floral Dish with Lid + 2 smaller dishlets

Shell shaped vinyl placemats in avocado, the kind you can wipe down with a damp cloth and they're good as new. Perfect for those of us who are laundry-deficient.

Long coveted first volume of the Julia Child staple in any cookbook collection. I spotted this one despite the key information faded entirely from its spine.

Linen placemats with pockets for their contrasting napkins. I may need a larger table in the near future, so that I can mingle both sets simultaneously. Goodness, do I love to set a tidy table.

The other purchases are more the outdoorsy type if you catch my drift. They'll make an appearance in the next post, so stay tuned.

Impending!

2009-05-07T13:55:00.000-07:00

I was looking out the window last night around sun down, and saw the most ferocious shadows on the trees. Swooping. Like a flock of some unfathomable giant monsters. Or worse.

Yes, of course, it's only the freeway. But with a little imagination...I'm just saying that it might be a good idea to keep an eye out for a thing like that...you never know when the dino-zombies are coming for us.

Let Us Play Your Party

2009-05-07T10:21:00.000-07:00

Saturday night found John and I at Ghost Town Gallery here in Oakland. It's our favorite place to see shows because it happens to be 8 blocks from our house, with the appearance of a genuine venue but the price tag of a domestic one. This place is a whole maze of rooms hard to describe with much accuracy except to say that each one smokier than the last and Saturday night it was packed wall to wall, brimming with people.

Through the haze of cigarettes and smoke machines and the booze we'd been sipping, we caught a pretty good show. It was old fashioned boppy punk rock and really, really good. Let's just say that if it hadn't been too crowded to move, I would have been dancing.

I have these moments, for the last year say, where I feel like my head is clearest in the middle of a crowded room like this. I've long wished that there were a typewriter ribbon at the ready in my frontal lobe so that I could record the stream of things flying by up there.

One of the things that I managed to catch and hold onto Saturday night was a little bit about the indescribable energy of that show, contained by the four walls of that big white room. And the related feeling that I was Glimpsing Something Really Important to the Secret of Living. I've had that glimpsing feeling before, but not much since moving here. It makes you feel really lucky, like you're catching something most people will never see and it makes punk feel downright Romantic, in all its croony, catchy, melody-driven manifestations. Amidst sweaty bodies and filthy bathrooms and beer soaked t-shirts, that Ramonesy beat reminds me of being 13 and crushing hard on the Screwballs and knowing hardly anything.

It's a pretty awesome feeling. If it's been awhile, you should go find yourself a packed house show sometime soon and get your shoes a little dirty. It may do you some good.

Flaw in Marketing

2009-05-06T09:45:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure if I'm the only curmudgeon to catch this, but the folks who orchestrate Bike To Work Day & Bike to Work Week might have reconsidered the name of their cycle holiday this year. You know, in light of the rising unemployment rate? Here in S.F. I know there are plenty of people participating/celebrating the event, but no one's acknowledging that Bike to Work might be more aptly titled "Bike to Play" or "Bike to the Grocery Store" or "Bike to Not Work", to put it bluntly.

In the Great Depression, do you think something like this, a holdover from the Roaring Twenties, er...Booming Nineties, would catch on? Okay, okay, it's not THAT bad. But a little tip of the hobo hat to those of us who Can't Bike To Work, much as we'd like to, would be appreciated. As it is, I'm feeling a bit cynical myself. Maybe that just means I should get more involved?