31.3.08
I've been a lame blogger
But that's because I'm in Paris. And I've been speaking loads of French. I have lots of pictures, too, but I can't put them on this computer so you'll have to wait! I'll write more when I get home.
19.3.08
Tomorrow....
I leave for England. A weekend in London with my sisters and our "partners". A week in Dorset with my parents and relatives. And finally, 5 days in Paris with my hot boyfriend. Wow, I am one lucky lady.
But all I can think about is my cat. Last night, he came home covered in mud. He looked like a japanimation porcu-cat. And, the recently healed ear was cut open and bleeding. I gave him a bath. This sounds dangerous, I know. Especially if you've ever witnessed Mister and a vet. But he's actually not that difficult if you know how to handle him. I washed his fur with my "refresh" grapefruit scented shampoo, rinsed the dirt out, and by the time he was able to react, I was done. I squeezed him in a towel, and put him on my bed. It made a huge wet spot. I put the medicine on his ear, and we went to bed. He snuggled in my arms all wet all night long. Didn't move once. And when we woke up this morning, he was dry and his fur was so soft! I couldn't stop petting him! Before, I liked to snuggle and pet him because I love him. But now, I want to snuggle and pet him for the sheer pleasure factor. Is that shallow? There must be some argument here for the use of exfoliation & moisturiser, and shampoo and conditioner as a way to catch or keep a mate.
All of my life, I've loved the feeling of soft hair. It comforts me. As a child, I would "soft" and "twiddle" my hair when I was upset or to help me fall asleep. I still do it. Sometimes I fall asleep with my elbow pointing up and my hand firmly anchored in my hair. When I lived in the North, my favorite way to sleep in winter was under a gazillion blankets with the heat off and the window near my head cracked open. I would pull all of my hair up over the pillow and cover myself to my nose. Cold air makes your hair even softer. Then you can pull down one lock at a time and soft it until it gets warm and then switch for a new, soft, cold one.
So anyway, now I love my cat even more, in a different way, and I'm convinced by the statistics of this month that I'm going to come home and find him cold and stiff on my bed, dead as a doornail. The more I think that he's dead, the more I'm convinced I won't have a nervous breakdown when it actually happens.
But all I can think about is my cat. Last night, he came home covered in mud. He looked like a japanimation porcu-cat. And, the recently healed ear was cut open and bleeding. I gave him a bath. This sounds dangerous, I know. Especially if you've ever witnessed Mister and a vet. But he's actually not that difficult if you know how to handle him. I washed his fur with my "refresh" grapefruit scented shampoo, rinsed the dirt out, and by the time he was able to react, I was done. I squeezed him in a towel, and put him on my bed. It made a huge wet spot. I put the medicine on his ear, and we went to bed. He snuggled in my arms all wet all night long. Didn't move once. And when we woke up this morning, he was dry and his fur was so soft! I couldn't stop petting him! Before, I liked to snuggle and pet him because I love him. But now, I want to snuggle and pet him for the sheer pleasure factor. Is that shallow? There must be some argument here for the use of exfoliation & moisturiser, and shampoo and conditioner as a way to catch or keep a mate.
All of my life, I've loved the feeling of soft hair. It comforts me. As a child, I would "soft" and "twiddle" my hair when I was upset or to help me fall asleep. I still do it. Sometimes I fall asleep with my elbow pointing up and my hand firmly anchored in my hair. When I lived in the North, my favorite way to sleep in winter was under a gazillion blankets with the heat off and the window near my head cracked open. I would pull all of my hair up over the pillow and cover myself to my nose. Cold air makes your hair even softer. Then you can pull down one lock at a time and soft it until it gets warm and then switch for a new, soft, cold one.
So anyway, now I love my cat even more, in a different way, and I'm convinced by the statistics of this month that I'm going to come home and find him cold and stiff on my bed, dead as a doornail. The more I think that he's dead, the more I'm convinced I won't have a nervous breakdown when it actually happens.
5.3.08
A Lovely Saturday
I had a lovely Saturday.
I made breakfast, omelettes with portabella mushrooms, leeks, kale and wine-soaked goat cheese seasoned with herbs collected from Mummy's garden.
We drove into L.A., first to Culver City to see a show of Evan Hecox. This show was of pieces he did in Mexico City, lots of woodcuts and color-blocked watercolors. It was great! We peeked into another gallery that was in the process of hanging a show to open that night and saw a whole slew of great pieces! As we headed to our next destination, we talked a lot about what we liked about the works, how they worked, and tried to define why. I love talking about art, and I'm so lucky to have a hot boyfriend that loves it too!
We went to Fairfax near Randy's house and looked at books in this great bookstore, Family. They had comics and lots of art books and novels as well. Julie Doucet and Dame Darcy! A diary of Werner Herzog's as he walked from Germany to Paris! Our tummies were rumbling so we got a pastry at a bakery/deli across the street that has obviously been there for years, and they must put crack in the stuff b/c people were lined up out the door and pushing and shoving and yelling at the people behind the counter. What a mish-mosh it was! That's when you know something is good, when people will wait in an obscene and violent line to get it. We got it, and it was GOOD!
We drove around the corner to Randy's house and had a nice visit with him & Julia. Someone stole their aloe plant off the porch, and I decided to try and take a cutting from the monster in the back of my house and propagate it. Challenge: all of the appropriate pieces on this behemoth are HUGE and will require a small army of supports to keep it up in water so it can sprout new roots....
Then we made our way over to Little Tokyo, to a little place called Daikokuya which is rumored to have the best authentic ramen in the city. We knew it must be true when we walked in and saw how many people were crowded patiently into the tiny and cramped waiting area. Alas, the menu was not created with vegetarians in mind. Brian had the famous ramen, and was so enthusiastic about it that I copied down every detail that the menu revealed, with promises to try my best one day soon to replicate it. I will not, however, be boiling down pork joints for two days at an undisclosed location before adding the fresh veggies and noodles in front of him. This is what the menu claimed as the secret to the mystique, flavour and success of the dish... I had tuna wrapped in these wonderful leaves (I can never remember their name), dipped in tempura batter and fried. AMAZING!!!!!
THEN, as if the day couldn't get any better, we went up the street to the Frank Gehry Disney Concert Hall to see the L.A. Philharmonic open up for Grizzly Bear. Are you kidding me?!?!?!?!? Brian had never seen an orchestra perform live, so I had fun being a little know-it-all, answering questions both posed and imagined. The acoustics in this room are unreal. It's like a round pod, with every angle designed specifically for the sound coming from the stage. Grizzly Bear's performance was unbelievably beautiful, they are truly great.
We drove home laughing, tired and wired on energy drinks that did not inhibit a full on crash into bed...
I made breakfast, omelettes with portabella mushrooms, leeks, kale and wine-soaked goat cheese seasoned with herbs collected from Mummy's garden.
We drove into L.A., first to Culver City to see a show of Evan Hecox. This show was of pieces he did in Mexico City, lots of woodcuts and color-blocked watercolors. It was great! We peeked into another gallery that was in the process of hanging a show to open that night and saw a whole slew of great pieces! As we headed to our next destination, we talked a lot about what we liked about the works, how they worked, and tried to define why. I love talking about art, and I'm so lucky to have a hot boyfriend that loves it too!
We went to Fairfax near Randy's house and looked at books in this great bookstore, Family. They had comics and lots of art books and novels as well. Julie Doucet and Dame Darcy! A diary of Werner Herzog's as he walked from Germany to Paris! Our tummies were rumbling so we got a pastry at a bakery/deli across the street that has obviously been there for years, and they must put crack in the stuff b/c people were lined up out the door and pushing and shoving and yelling at the people behind the counter. What a mish-mosh it was! That's when you know something is good, when people will wait in an obscene and violent line to get it. We got it, and it was GOOD!
We drove around the corner to Randy's house and had a nice visit with him & Julia. Someone stole their aloe plant off the porch, and I decided to try and take a cutting from the monster in the back of my house and propagate it. Challenge: all of the appropriate pieces on this behemoth are HUGE and will require a small army of supports to keep it up in water so it can sprout new roots....
Then we made our way over to Little Tokyo, to a little place called Daikokuya which is rumored to have the best authentic ramen in the city. We knew it must be true when we walked in and saw how many people were crowded patiently into the tiny and cramped waiting area. Alas, the menu was not created with vegetarians in mind. Brian had the famous ramen, and was so enthusiastic about it that I copied down every detail that the menu revealed, with promises to try my best one day soon to replicate it. I will not, however, be boiling down pork joints for two days at an undisclosed location before adding the fresh veggies and noodles in front of him. This is what the menu claimed as the secret to the mystique, flavour and success of the dish... I had tuna wrapped in these wonderful leaves (I can never remember their name), dipped in tempura batter and fried. AMAZING!!!!!
THEN, as if the day couldn't get any better, we went up the street to the Frank Gehry Disney Concert Hall to see the L.A. Philharmonic open up for Grizzly Bear. Are you kidding me?!?!?!?!? Brian had never seen an orchestra perform live, so I had fun being a little know-it-all, answering questions both posed and imagined. The acoustics in this room are unreal. It's like a round pod, with every angle designed specifically for the sound coming from the stage. Grizzly Bear's performance was unbelievably beautiful, they are truly great.
We drove home laughing, tired and wired on energy drinks that did not inhibit a full on crash into bed...
4.3.08
How To Have Breakfast at "hom"
"Hom".
That's the name of the house that Granny and Gaffa used to stay in when they came to visit us in Pawlet, the little town we grew up in. It was shingled with red and green trim, and sat on the curve of a hill with a river running behind it.
This morning I had a breakfast that reminded me of home. First, I woke to the sound of Alexis' voice, which was strange, because I was dreaming about her at that very moment. So her voice pulled me out and away from her voice.
Second, I had an orange to eat from the tree in the back yard, and for me right now, this is the essence of the house I live in, and a big part of what makes it a home. We've had a lot of wind lately and there are oranges all over the back yard. I looked them over, trying to find one that hadn't been damaged by the fall, or succumbed to those weird potato bugs that also love the sweet treat inside. I found one, it was covered it dirt and webs, there are a lot of spiders living in that tree... but once rinsed it looked like a miniature sunshine, and it was warm from sitting in the morning heat. I've learned that the very best oranges are the ones that the tree gives me. Those are the ones that are at their peak of sweetness. The ones that I pick are always good, but they have less sugar.
Third, coffee. Need I say more? Well, I will anyway. I have found the most wonderful coffee shop where they roast their own coffee. I hate to say this, you know that I do, but I think it might be better than speeder's. They roast it in the same style, full city roast, to the point of the best flavor highlights for the bean, but not so dark that the bean is burnt. And, I re confiscated my little sugar jar from Brian that he'd been using for q-tips. It's one of my favorite pieces I ever made. That and the mug I'm drinking the coffee out of...
Fourth, and the inspiration for this piece, Wasa rye crackers with butter, and honey on one, Marmite on the other. When I was staying with Granny in the summer after 7th grade, every morning consisted of this combination for us. She would make toast and place the pieces neatly in the little toast rack on the table. The we would butter each one and choose between all of these wonderful options: Marmalade, thick cut in the white jar and appointed by Her Majesty the Queen. Marmite: one of my favorite things in the entire world. So wonderful to have a cucumber and tomato sandwich with marmite, veggies fresh picked from the garden, still warm from the sun, in the afternoon. So comforting to know that even when the bank was empty, the garden was always full of the very best of the best. And honey: all of my life I've had a love affair with honey. We had friends up on the hill in Pawlet, the Winpennys, they kept bees and had the BEST honey! Their bees were happy bees, and the honey was raw and unfiltered, like cream. (pause for coffee refill) There is a wonderful apiary in Ferrisberg that makes all kinds of honey products. I fell in love with their cough syrup one year when I was very sick for a long time. I don't know how effective it was medicinally, but it was soothing and tasted like heaven. Good thing you can't really o.d. on that stuff! Guess what? I found a jar of raw honey from Honey Gardens apiary at the local market! And I am savoring it like the rarest jewel, like golden flowers from that tree that grew underground where the Twelve Dancing Princesses would go every night.
Fifth, I have my Meow, Mister the Terrible, nesting at my feet in a pile of freshly hand-washed sweaters. His ear is FINALLY healing. And we are happy and content this morning.
That's the name of the house that Granny and Gaffa used to stay in when they came to visit us in Pawlet, the little town we grew up in. It was shingled with red and green trim, and sat on the curve of a hill with a river running behind it.
This morning I had a breakfast that reminded me of home. First, I woke to the sound of Alexis' voice, which was strange, because I was dreaming about her at that very moment. So her voice pulled me out and away from her voice.
Second, I had an orange to eat from the tree in the back yard, and for me right now, this is the essence of the house I live in, and a big part of what makes it a home. We've had a lot of wind lately and there are oranges all over the back yard. I looked them over, trying to find one that hadn't been damaged by the fall, or succumbed to those weird potato bugs that also love the sweet treat inside. I found one, it was covered it dirt and webs, there are a lot of spiders living in that tree... but once rinsed it looked like a miniature sunshine, and it was warm from sitting in the morning heat. I've learned that the very best oranges are the ones that the tree gives me. Those are the ones that are at their peak of sweetness. The ones that I pick are always good, but they have less sugar.
Third, coffee. Need I say more? Well, I will anyway. I have found the most wonderful coffee shop where they roast their own coffee. I hate to say this, you know that I do, but I think it might be better than speeder's. They roast it in the same style, full city roast, to the point of the best flavor highlights for the bean, but not so dark that the bean is burnt. And, I re confiscated my little sugar jar from Brian that he'd been using for q-tips. It's one of my favorite pieces I ever made. That and the mug I'm drinking the coffee out of...
Fourth, and the inspiration for this piece, Wasa rye crackers with butter, and honey on one, Marmite on the other. When I was staying with Granny in the summer after 7th grade, every morning consisted of this combination for us. She would make toast and place the pieces neatly in the little toast rack on the table. The we would butter each one and choose between all of these wonderful options: Marmalade, thick cut in the white jar and appointed by Her Majesty the Queen. Marmite: one of my favorite things in the entire world. So wonderful to have a cucumber and tomato sandwich with marmite, veggies fresh picked from the garden, still warm from the sun, in the afternoon. So comforting to know that even when the bank was empty, the garden was always full of the very best of the best. And honey: all of my life I've had a love affair with honey. We had friends up on the hill in Pawlet, the Winpennys, they kept bees and had the BEST honey! Their bees were happy bees, and the honey was raw and unfiltered, like cream. (pause for coffee refill) There is a wonderful apiary in Ferrisberg that makes all kinds of honey products. I fell in love with their cough syrup one year when I was very sick for a long time. I don't know how effective it was medicinally, but it was soothing and tasted like heaven. Good thing you can't really o.d. on that stuff! Guess what? I found a jar of raw honey from Honey Gardens apiary at the local market! And I am savoring it like the rarest jewel, like golden flowers from that tree that grew underground where the Twelve Dancing Princesses would go every night.
Fifth, I have my Meow, Mister the Terrible, nesting at my feet in a pile of freshly hand-washed sweaters. His ear is FINALLY healing. And we are happy and content this morning.
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