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.

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.

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...

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.

Two Houses

Last night, I dreamed of two houses.

The first was tucked away in a cozy neighborhood somewhere in L.A. It stood supported by four very tall trees at each corner, three stories with the fronts all open and white gauzy curtains blowing out at the sides. It was a basket house and it got gradually larger at the top. The interior was very simple and all natural colors. I was fascinated by the idea of using trees as a support system, turning the building into a treehouse, and hidden right in the middle of a city! I saw a group of children nearby and they had supplies and tools all around them and they told me that they built the house and they showed me the piece of paper that had the directions and diagram: "How To Build A Basket House". The whole place housed a sense of peace and mystery.

*warning: stop reading if you don't want to read something bloody and awful!

The second house was a one story concrete block and the front was open but with a glass face. I went there with a woman, an acquaintance. Because the front was transparent, you could see inside and it was very dark and dirty and it was full of water. There were no windows other than the front, I could see debris and one or two indistinguishable pieces of furniture and I was mesmerised by the dark beauty of the water and the things floating in it and the colors. I wanted to take photographs of it. Another woman was walking by us and she looked like she was on her way to work. I asked if she would be a model for a moment because she was wearing red lipstick and had brown hair and I thought it would look interesting. I took a couple of pictures and then she left. But I didn't want to stop because I didn't feel like I'd gotten a good picture that really showed the beauty that i saw inside that house. So I asked my friend if she would model and she said yes but no nudes and don't use these for anything. I thought that was strange but didn't care too much I just wanted to take more photos.

I took one and I could tell I was getting closer. I took another and saw that something was floating toward the window. I took a third and the camera showed that it was a woman's body floating toward us, and it was all white, as though it had been there a long time or maybe it wasn't real, like a mannequin. And then the story of what had happened in that house flashed through my mind very quickly.

A woman had been murdered there in the most awful way, piece by piece head first with a strange log cutting contraption. There was lots of blood. And screaming. The image of this man covered in her blood and pushing her into the machine as she screamed kept going through my head for the rest of the dream, like an overture.

And then the woman I was with took the memory card out of my camera and said that she wanted to hold onto it, implying that she wanted to make sure that no one saw the pictures of her. The police came and we told them that something bad had happened there and they asked if we had proof, because the body had disappeared. And then the woman I was with began acting even more strangely saying that she had the proof but they couldn't see it. I could sense that something bad was going to happen again and then....

the phone rang. Thank GOD! Or, thank Laura for calling at that very moment.

I can't stop thinking about how strange it was to dream of two houses that were so very different, and also wondering if the dead woman and my acquaintance were one and the same...

Pathetic

I was on my way out the door to the gym, but now I'm writing a post instead. here's why:

Last night I spent the night at my good friend Sheila's house. We watched the Oscars and ate the latest incarnation of my spinach and artichoke dip and drank wine. We laughed, we cried, I was particularly inspired by the folks who won best song, and their call to "make art!"

I came home this morning with the intention of heading straight back out to work off all the dairy I've been eating (as though it were crack, and i an addict). Sometimes cutting something out of your diet can turn it into a tempting vice...

But when I came home, Mister came down and presented me with yet ANOTHER battle wound, this one the sickest yet. It took me three rinsings to get all the blood off of his fur to see the wound for what it was, and expose it enough to put his extra strength ointment into it. All of his other wounds had finally healed and I thought we were in the clear. Not so, not so. This one is relatively superficial, it still isn't as bad as that one time with the raccoon and the huge open hole that I had to stick back together with this weird super glue fake skin stuff. I do have faith in my nursing ability at this point in our relationship, it's mister's ability to heal in his old age that has me worried.

(By the way, according to Jon Stewart's method of figuring out your stripper name, one of my many options is "Mister Pleasant"...)

So now, I've decided that it is more important for me to hang out in my room with meow than to get to the gym. I'll do it later. I mean it. I'll go tonight after work.

Speaking of my room, I must tell you how exceptionally clean and zen-like it is. I've re-arranged it yet again, and now the focal point has become my beautiful valentine's day orchid. It is living happily in front of the window, and every day it seems to grow new blooms. I was very nervous at first, but it seems so happy now that I feel more confident that i won't kill it.

I had another show with my band, Dig A Pony. It was raining again. The sound system at this little cafe is truly horrendous, it sounded like I was singing through a blanket, and not in a good way. I probably shouldn't have used the mic, the place is small enough. But at the time I didn't really care. I was really focused on what the songs are all about. Most of them I wrote about my journey out here, what I was chasing and what and who I left behind. It's been a year, and I'm feeling pensive. I have changed a lot, and my vision of my life has changed. I think that I have become simpler. Stupider, maybe, but I think it's okay to be stupid for a year. Just not much longer than that or it has more of a chance at becoming a permanent state, instead of a rest.

Right now, I am desperately anxious to see my family next month when we convene in London. I miss them all a little too much, it hurts. MUST MOVE CLOSER. Patience, my child. A virtue I think on every day... when does patience become pathetic? When is it time to pick up and make something happen? Looking forward to some Wall Sister Magic. You'd think that in Southern California I'd be surrounded by Glitz and Glamour, but I have yet to see anything that really compares to what occurs when the three of us get together. My sisters are the epitome of Glamour, and how it translates to everyday living. Emmy looks like a movie star in Carrharts and cow manure, and Soe looks like a supermodel in a flour-encrusted apron. It's all about the attitude and being yourself. Now, my challenge is how to be famously intriguing whilst cleaning my cat's pussing neck... He is so grounded.

I don't have a specific topic, so I'm set to ramble.

Mister got in another fight and has a slice in his ear. I cleaned it with peroxide and put neosporin on it, that's all they would do at the vet, I know. He came in this morning and his eyes were all black and his fur was all tufty and dirty and had little pieces coming out. I saw the spots where someone had bitten him and looked for blood, found none on his throat, but the ear is pretty gross, it's deep.
He's fine though. Looking as regal as ever.

I made pizza for dinner two nights in a row. Trader Joe's is selling pizza dough now for a dollar, and last night I made whole wheat crust and roasted japanese eggplant and onions and mushrooms, basil, spinach and leftover sauce from Brian and I's gnocchi extraveganza this weekend. Carolshine came over and did most of the work: as soon as I found out that she'd moonlighted at American Flatbread in her youth, I started calling her the pizza guru.

So Brian and I had a cooking craze this past weekend, we made gnocchi with tomato sauce. The first batch came out okay, the second came out as mush, but the third came out perfectly. I learned a lot and want to try it again. The next morning we made birds in a nest with hollandaise sauce. Brian made the birds and I made the sauce. The first try was a complete failure because i was using a metal bowl for the double boiler and the yolks cooked immediately. So I switched bowls and started over and this batch came out PERFECTLY!!! BUT, I did decide that next time I will use vinegar instead of lemon juice for hollandaise on eggs, and use lemon only if topping a fish or vegetable.

I think that the next time I cook for someone, I'm going to have to do a repeat of what I now consider to be my signature seafood dish. The trick is getting a really fresh and beautiful salmon steak. All you have to do is a broil/poach in the oven. Top the fish with a nice coating of your favorite miso paste. Place in a baking dish with a lip. Add liquid to come up halfway to the top of the fish. And the liquid is just orange juice, soy sauce, and chopped shallots! I'm pretty critical of my cooking in that I'm always looking for ways to improve the recipe. But this one might be perfect as is. Try it and let me know what you think.

That's all for now, I'm tired and must go and snuggle with meow.