Here's a recipe for "magic Toast":

Take a slice of bread that you like to toast, I use a local flourless sprouted seed bread. Toast it lightly. Then spread a nut butter on, I use hazelnut butter. Then throw some chocolate chips on top and broil for a couple of minutes, so that when you take a knife to that puppy, the chocolate mixes into the butter and you've made homemade nutella, minus the hydrogenated fat. I just invented this, and let me tell you, combined with a good cup of coffia, I can't imagine a better way to start the day.

So, I'm deep in the trenches, apartment hunting. And I've fallen in love with one. It still has to get Brian's seal of approval, he has yet to see it. But I had a good feeling when I saw the pictures on Craigs List, and the good feelings continued through the viewing, even as the property manager listed off very clearly the "drawbacks". All I can think about is how wonderful it would be to live there, and how much money we'll be saving...

In other news, I finished the quilt! I actually finished it last week, but didn't want to post about it until Emmy received it. So now that she has, here is the finished product....

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I'm very proud of how it came out, especially since I'm pretty sure I broke every rule of quiltmaking in the process.

Brian and I went to a show last weekend. It was totally spontanious and totally FUN! He had called me earlier in the day to see if I wanted to go out to a late dinner. I just happened to look at the club listings and saw that one of my favorite bands that I listen to all the time was playing that night. So we went to see Ladytron and The Faint. I had the best time, felt renewed and refreshed by the whole experience. We do not get out enough, and there is so much going on here. Hopefully when we find our dream home I'll be able to afford these things...

I took some pictures...

That's Ladytron!!!!!!!




On a whim, because I had no time to put on a fabulous outfit, I tied my grey leather obi belt around my head for a headband. It looked amazing, and now I'm all about belts for headbands. Try it.



Brian is growing a mustache for "mustache month" at work. During the show, we saw a gentleman with a particularly thick mustache and I was about to comment when he approached Brian and said something about the crowd and then gave him the pound it out fist and said "mustache respect", then went on his way. I guess it's a real club...




This picture is my favorite:



xoxoxo hannah

I now have two orchids living in my house. Brian has an aversion to cut flowers, and so has begun a tradition of living plants as gifts. The first one we had to leave in L.A. with his mother, it wouldn't have survived the trip up north. So now I have V-day and Easter 09 lounging in my living room.

V-day 09 is a Phalaenopsis (the moon or moth orchid). These are quite common, V-day 08 is a moth orchid as well. You have probably seen these orchids at the flower shop. The faces of her flowers are broad and giving when in bloom, full and protective of their secrets in blossom. I love that even though she was a little worse for wear when I got her, with a little love and consistency, the tattered flowers slowly fell and a whole new batch came out, just for me.




Easter 09 is a Miltassia Charles M. Fitch Izumi. He smells like pepper. He looks like a tiger with an apron on. I'm a little apprehensive about his future, he needs to be repotted and I've never done that before. Mama Sonia was waiting forever to repot one of her orchids, it never stopped blooming and she didn't want to hurt the flowers...



A lot of what I do is subconscious. I don't directly know the reason for a thing until quite a bit later. My mother never had orchids that I can remember, my sisters don't keep them. I've never had a conversation with an orchid enthusiast that convinced me of their beauty and mystique. But, my grandmother had orchids. She kept them in the side room of her last home, surrounded by windows, nestled on a bed of glass pebbles that always had water in the bottom, so the humidity would be high for them. It struck me recently that I have orchids because she had orchids. And that my little dining table that sits in the rounded nook so closely resembles her little nook, it is almost chilling. And there are her silver candle holders. And there are the three little cups that Cousin Beriah made; she kept green tealights in them.



I think about Mama Sonia a lot, perhaps more than I did while she was alive, at the very least I think of her differently. During the year before she died, I was very worried and concerned. I wanted to be with her, I didn't want her to be lonely, I wanted to be sure that I heard all of the stories, that there weren't some forgotten tales that I had yet to hear.

The last time that I spent with her, I stayed in her apartment while she was in the hospital section. She had someone taking care of the plants, but the orchids looked bad, so I watered them. I think I might have killed them. Either someone else was doing their job and I overdid it, or someone had neglected them for too long and the shock of care did it. Now I'm thinking that it was an oversight of mine to have not brought them into her hospital room. Not that there was any room, she had so many flowers and cards, signs of love and concern from all of the others who couldn't be there all the time. While I was there, I oscillated between wanting to take care of her and wanting to make her happy. So, one day I would try to cook a healthy meal with lots of fresh veggies. The next I brought salmon pate and wine, both of which were not allowed by the doctor, I'm sure.

I know that I am a very sentimental person, and attach a great deal to the relics of my ancestors. Now I see that a lot of me is changing to make space for their spirits in my everyday life. I wear the ring of Granny Dot on my right hand, and lately I wear oxford shirts with skirts and loafers and cardigans, her everyday uniform. All I need is a hanky up my sleeve and there I am, my Grandmother. I think of Mama Sonia every day, I feel her with me. Is this what they mean when they say that someone is always with you in spirit? I dream about her almost every night, we are usually in a house, we are content, she reassures me, calms me. Perhaps a part of her is becoming me. I recreated her orchid corner in my house without intending to. I've grown awfully fond of mid-century modern design, always in reference to her furniture.

Most of the furniture she had was from the house in Puerto Rico. They had a designer do the whole thing, she said he was a genius. Those pieces lasted over 50 years, beautiful oversized pottery table lamps, with wooden accents half-way up. Long, low sideboards and cupboards, home to a lifetime of treasures for the table. The dressers and end tables describing a series of rooms in a time line of houses, always uncluttered and tastefully arranged.

I doubt that I will ever reach the status of "uncluttered" of my own volition, but to me the ideal exists in the memory of my Grandmother's house. It was never stark, never cold, and the pieces that charactered her life stood the test of time. The paintings of Spain spoke easiliy with an etching by my sister; the low couches with a little pillow I made as a child. Everything had it's place, and that place was intentional and created with love.

I'm thinking that this entry is the perfect introduction to my rearranging the living room... I'll take pictures.

April brings flowers, they're everywhere. The trees look like pink cream puffs and the ground is speckled with yellows, reds, whites...



In the forest, everything came alive in one week. We had a few hot days and now everything is bright and thick and green. The forest floor is wound tight with vines and little purple flowers. And now, my favorite forest flower after lady's slipper and jack-in-the-pulpit: the trillium has sprung.




In clusters of thick green leaves nestle their bright white flowers. It is especially beautiful when you see them growing out of a muddy, littered area. Not that my forest has many of these, but I like the juxtaposition.

I once lived in a city that had a vegetarian restaurant called "Trillium Soup", but now I can't remember which city that was...

I planted some flowers in a pot on my balcony, not sure if they'll make it, they were on sale at the big box grocery, and don't look so hot. Soe reminded me that Emmy had a ficus from Price Chopper that started off sickly, but in the end, she had to kill it almost deliberately. That gave me hope... what was that ficus' name? Oh yeah, Fistula.

Here are some more flowers from around my house and in the forest:

the other day...







I took a walk.




a gentleman who had waited patiently behind for me to finish entered the frame. I took a picture as he walked away...



I walked further and found a diorama on the sidewalk. It said "all stumps go to heaven".



Here's a little Portland, OR history for you: it is referred to as "stumptown" because of all the trees that were cleared to make it. When it was time for the landowners to decide on a name for the new city, they flipped a coin. The winner got to name it after their hometown. Portland was this close to being named Boston. But the winner was from Maine. I'm kind of from Maine. I lived there for about 6 years, and sometimes near Portland...1: Boothbay Harbor 2: Pittsfield 3: Old Orchard Beach.

My very favorite Portland, ME memory involves my good old friend, Loren K... Crayons. Cerulean and Sepia?...toothbrushes, cobblestone and some guy named Crazy Horse who had a bunch of notebooks scribbled full of a very detailed plan to take over the US government... we ended up deciding to try to spend a summer in Portland, somehow it ended up being OOB. This was probably due to one of us being broke and not having the dough for the city. It was probably me. I remember we spent a rainy weekend in a tent, until we found a place to live at this Inn on the beach that was owned by a couple of "Snowbirds" (people who spend their winters down south, usually in Florida). Loren got a job at some bar, I got a job at a Chinese restaurant, we were 18.

One of our first nights there, we met "Bill" on the beach. We were drinking a big bottle of bad wine, and there was Bill, rolling around in the sand, just like us. Turns out he was the cook at the Chinese restaurant. It didn't have a proper name, it was just called "Chinese Restaurant", and that's what the sign said.

Bill could not speak English very well, and we could not speak Chinese at all. When he realized that I was to be the new waitress, he promised me that he would cook a real Chinese dinner on my first day. And Bill delivered. I watched him on that first night as he chopped a live lobster into pieces before sauteeing it with fresh vegetables in the wok. The slaughter seemed so much more humane than the way I was used to, with the boiling water and the screaming...

I learned a lot about Chinese food that summer, the most important being that the food that we ate every night at 9 o'clock, the meal that we all sat down to together in between the dinner rush and the drunken bar rush, had little to nothing to do with the food that was offered on the menu. I had always hated "Chinese" food. Now I knew better. Real Chinese food is made with very fresh ingredients that are not overcooked or drowning in sugary sauces. Real Chinese food is simple and good for you.

Halfway through the summer, the owner hired a new kitchen crew. None of them could speak any English and they all seemed sort of afraid. I was convinced they were all illegal immigrants. They used to write notes and attach them to the wall with smeared white rice, it made great glue. There was one man in particular that I got on well with. He was older and jolly; we communicated with sounds, smiles, and gestures.

During that Summer, every day was regimented. Each week was colored by the people that I met and the visitors I received, but there were constants. I usually woke up around 10 am and headed to the beach. The beach was punctuated by trips to the coffee shop and cigarettes. I was really into smoking that summer. There was a shop that sold really nice cigarettes and I smoked them all, the davidoffs, the nat shermans, I even dabbled in cigars. I would try anything that the proprietor suggested. It was a summer of abstinence for me in every arena except for caffeine and nicotine. In those places I allowed myself every indulgence.

After the beach, around four, I would go to work at the Chinese Restaurant. Although this was my first time waiting tables, I was for a while the only waiter. I worked every single day. And they would not give me a day off. In desperation one day, I called in sick. I wasn't sick. Bill would barely talk to me when I went back the next day. I never called in sick again, the disappointment was too much to bear, even in the face of literally endless workweeks.

Suddenly, halfway through the summer, Loren decided to go back to Vermont. I had to get a new roommate, and I found Charlotte. Charlotte was from France, Nice to be exact, and she was really into Rastafarian culture. There were a lot of kids from Europe that came to Old Orchard Beach for the summer, it was almost like a foreign exchange. Charlotte and I spent a lot of time at the coffee shop, which was open 24 hours a day. It was called "The Hobo Jungle" due to the fact that all of the proprietors had spent time jumping cars cross-country and were committed to the Hobo lifestyle. It was our home away from hotel. We spent a lot of time in that place.

I had a friend from England come to visit, James. I had an old friend from JR High come to visit, Benji. I had a brief romance with a guy named John who had long hair and a beard and rode a motorcycle and had children in the neighboring town. And then, the summer was over. It was time to go to school.

That was the last time I lived in Maine, near Portland, which is the town that the town that I live in is named after....

Anywho, I returned home from my walk that evening to a luxurious sunset, this was my favorite picture from the balcony...

February

...was a wonderful month. I met Sapphire. I spent some much-needed time with my sisters. I got to see my parents. I got to see my friends. And, I celebrated my three-year anniversary with my very own boyfriend.

I am a blessed person. My family is the most supportive, loving, encouraging, and just plain fun group of people I know. And my friends are the coolest, best, tried and true ones around. I find out again why I love the people I love every time I go home...

Now, I am obsessed with sewing. I'm still working on the quilt I started in August, and I have to say that I'm happy that I didn't try to rush & get it done in time for Sapphie's birth. It is coming out much better than anticipated, and I'm actually beginning to feel pride over it. So I'm going to keep plugging along, and she might get it by her 6th birthday!

The weather here is turning. Today it is sunny, and I can see little buds appearing on the Japanese Maple on my porch. There are daffodils and crocuses everywhere. Spring comes early in Oregon....

I went snowboarding for the first time.



As you can see, I am sporting a very nice board designed by my hot boyfriend. It is accentuated by my top-of-the-line bindings and super warm and functional AND fashionable jacket, thank you Col & Soe.My goggles have rhinestones all over them and my boots have fun stripes. Can you tell that my biggest motivation for getting out there finally was the chance to show off all of my hot gear?

Well, I looked great, and I actually enjoyed myself! I've always considered myself to be a "slow sports" person. I like yoga, snowshoeing, cross-country skiing, hiking. Activity that allows you to enjoy the scenery without worrying about cracking your skull. Canoeing, swimming, running, you get the idea.

I took a lesson, and that was my saving grace. I fell a few times, but not badly. I made it down the bunny slope in one piece. (Albeit including a short break halfway down; my quads were killing me!!!!) I'm really looking forward to the next time, I wish my wallet felt the same way...

In other news, I am anticipating the fast approaching trip home to VT. Someone asked me where I was from the other day, and when I told him, he responded with "You Escaped!" Escaped?! This moron has obviously never visited the most magical state in America, and I say good riddance! If you please, Sir, do not bother going there! I have now resided in all four corners of this broad country, and include many interior areas in my list of previous addresses, and none come close to delivering the quality of life that you can have in Vermont. Granted, I am biased. I have Maple Syrup running through my veins...

I can't wait. I'm going to meet my new favorite niece. I'm going to be able to congratulate in person my favorite new brother-to-be and sister. I get to see my friends and mummy and papa, and make Emmo hot coffee every morning. And, since they are getting a snow blast right now, I'll get to go SNOWSHOEING!!!!!!!!

Why am I not writing?

So much has happened, there is so much to write about. But my thoughts aren't making it to the blog. I've got excuses galore. But the real reason is that I just don't want to talk about it.

What am I inspired by? My new skincare regime, Mario Badescu. (Oh my dear God, I've just looked at the website, this line is endorsed by Martha Stewart. My eyes and pores are bleeding in protest! NO!!!!!!!!! Ok, I'll just pretend that didn't happen and go and wash my face and use my lovely lotion that is pure, and unendorsed. Yes, that is much better. "I use Mariot Badesquew, I don't know what you are talking about Martha Stewart for!")

What am I excited about? Golden place mats and my new horn table accessories and the ravioli filling I just finished. (Spinach, Shitake, Oyster Mushroom with smoked prosciutto and asiago, mozzarella, Parmesan). Alexis turned me onto a great wine, A-Z, it's from down the road. I've only had the red blend and the pinot gris, both amazing for the dough.

What am I doing my very best to not think about, so that almost every action of the day distracts me from it? The fact that I haven't seen my little baby Sapphire yet, and don't know when I'll be able to. Great, now I've thought it and I'm crying. You see? This is why I shouldn't blog right now. It's so much better to just read everybody else's blog and look at the pictures of her. Our little angel, sent down from heaven for us. Our little jewel, come to sparkle and shine like the ocean, like the sky. (That is, when she's not punching her mother's udders for more..., that"s not Angelic behavior, Sapphie!)

So, back to recipes. No, back to product. My new mascara is amazing. It's called Kiss Me, and it actually tubes your eyelashes so that they do not flake, run or smudge. AND YET, it comes off with warm water at the end of the day. I'm in love. Am I allowed to be in love with mascara? I hope not, that'll make this life-long affair all the more exciting. It doesn't give the thickness that DiorShow does, but how often during a week do you need your face to look like a 60's fashion spread? And for the first time in my life, I feel safe wearing mascara on my bottom lashes. This emotion is fully separated and lengthened from the only makeup advice my mother ever gave me: DO NOT wear eyeliner or mascara on the bottom section of your lids, it makes you look like a tart. Maman, I mean no disrespect, but if you could see my lashes now, I think you'd change your mantra...

Brian bought me the most beautiful chair for Christmas. He asked me what I wanted and I said I wanted a chair to sit at the dining room table. We've been using camping chairs and our exercise balls to sit at our lovely mid-century style euro-modern table, it's just not right. Now, we have one chair, and it is beautiful. I'll have to take a picture and post it. Let's see, this had been difficult lately...

No dice, maybe later.