plant dreaming deep

thoughts on the creative process

2009-10-27T23:54:00.000-07:00

Phoenix, on songwriting:

Branco: "Usually we have this illusion that we're going to come up with a product of our expertise, our genius, and create a song, you know. But it never works like that. When we do that, we always end up with something very normal, very boring. And what we are expecting in all this, is just this emotion, where something alien, something you don't know yet has happened. So we just work endlessly until this happens, and usually it's more the product of luck or mistake than of our personal qualities, our personal genius."

...

Thomas: "There's a whole preparation which is getting our egos tired, getting our bodies tired. So that you come up with something where there's no calculation.... and usually -- the thing we learned with making a lot of records is that now we record everything we do -- sometimes we hear something we like and it's only two or three days after, it's a long process, and it's not the thing you think is interesting when you make it, that's the most interesting, it's the thing that's unfamiliar, alien."

vampire weekend

2009-10-24T00:55:00.000-07:00

From the land of Twilight.

green belts + green glasses

2009-10-12T00:58:00.000-07:00

One of the things that captured my attention while I visited Austin was its greenery. Everywhere I looked, lushness.

under the Crepe Myrtle @ Cafe Mundi

S. Congress Ave.

the courtyard @ Hotel San Jose

from the green belt

backyard, after a good rain

bat country!

2009-10-09T23:32:00.000-07:00

Congress Ave. Bridge, Austin, Tx.

When I was a kid, I was always tantalized by the Chronicles of Narnia series, and in particular, the wardrobe in the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. There's something really powerful about there being a secret passageway between 2 universes. All of this is buildup for the only new fact I'm presenting in this post: In Portland, Oregon, there is swift watching; In Austin, Texas, there is bat watching. Sooooo, sooooo, cool.

2009-10-08T23:14:00.000-07:00

Thomas Mars of Phoenix signed my bag

2009-10-03T14:49:00.000-07:00

....at Austin City Limits yesterday. I could die happy.

three thoughts

2009-09-30T23:52:00.000-07:00

1. Aren't suede shoes the cat's pajamas? I came across these at this shoe store on Fillmore Street. J'adore.
2. Since my trip to San Francisco, I've been trying a bit harder to see things again. It hasn't been easy. I have a paper-pusher job, and it's been sucking my soul lately. I am still exploring what creativity means for me, and I feel utterly out of practice with that side of myself. I traditionally have a crafty side that I'm able to access fairly well, but I'm not so in touch with the more artistic side. That might sound pretentious. I don't care. It's going to be lurchy and hard and at times it will feel like I'm trying to brush my teeth with my left hand. But so what. I figure if I start by naming what I love, and showing what inspires me, then that's a start.
3. Music is for lovers. Check out my bloggy-widgety playlist thing up there. I'm trying it out--for a while--at least until I find one I like better.

PDX-SFO-PHX-PHX-PHX-PHX....

2009-09-24T22:23:00.000-07:00

A rock band with good manners.

Last week I flew to San Francisco to see Phoenix at The Warfield.

If you will indulge me, I will try to explain the obsession. Firstly, people: these are French guys singing in English. Can anyone name an American band trying to make French pop music? "No, you can't. Except for a few Talking Heads' "qu'est-ce que c'ests," or Blondie's "Sunday Girl," I can't think of any shining examples of Americans writing full-blown ouevres in French. I am not cynical enough to believe that Phoenix's approach is purely market-driven. Besides, one of the strange effects of this music is that it makes a person really, really, really want to understand French. And that can't be bad for the world, now can it?

The lyrics are hypnotic, melancholic, as this show in Paris demonstrates. But see how those Parisian kids aren't dancing? I think in the end though, it is we Americans who are being seduced.

My favorite moment of the evening was when Thomas Mars said "Ok, parents and children, hands in the air. Now we're going to do the Prince Clap."

postcards

2009-09-21T00:02:00.000-07:00

On the last night of my stay in San Francisco, I had a dream that I received two cards in the mail from my ex-boyfriend.

The first card was a card I actually received from him in real life, while I was living in France. The second card, the dream card, is covered in his handwriting, but I can only read one part clearly. I think it's weird that I can dream, with utter accuracy, my ex's handwriting. The point isn't what the handwriting looked like, of course, but rather, that the card contained an apology. In big, capital letters, BABY, I'M SORRY.

When I woke up, I shrugged it off, and moved through my day. I had a plane to catch and souvenirs for friends to buy, and I didn't think twice about the dream card. I walked from my hotel down Market Street to the Ferry building, marveling at how different the street looked from the way I remember it as a 25 year old. I savored the walk down Market, seeing the dead end ahead, knowing that I wouldn't walk the same way back. I felt a little pinch in my heart knowing that. I could already see myself on bart, emerging the airport, goodbye California.

I'm back in Portland now, and I haven't really thought about the dream card until now. But there are some weird things that happened today. The first is, I walked out my front door and headed off in a direction I never turn: west, with my 11-year old dog. We walked to the grocery store. Later, on our 2nd walk of the day, on our usual route around the park by my house, I wondered why I had never walked in that direction before.

Maybe it was a sarcastic apology. The fact that I am dissecting whether my dream apology was sarcastic or not tells you I am not really splitting hairs about it being an apology in a dream. A sarcastic dream apology is ok--serviceable, even-- if you feel that for the first time, you can accept it. And this is what happened today.

I haven't thought about that ex in a long time. My life has been consumed with other things. But what I think is so unique about today is that I realized that even if I think I am traveling in the same direction, and actually do go in the same direction, every day, I simply do not. It has nothing to do with intention. It just has to do with time, and space, and the limits of where we can be, where our hearts can be. And sometimes our hearts know that there is a limit to the time we have, and then is when you start to feel the pinch.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, applying this time-space knowledge to the relationships I've had, I can see that between knowing this and not knowing it is a huge gap. Like the size of the maturity gap between age 13 and age 16.

So if one of the cards in my dream was a real dreamed card from my past I am willing to believe that the other card was a card from some other time. Maybe it wasn't the time I was supposed to live through. Maybe I was supposed to live through this moment of remembering my ex's sarcasm, and his cheesy big handwriting.

golden voices

2009-09-19T23:40:00.000-07:00

Just returned from a trip to San Francisco: golden, gilded, well-wrought city. I saw a lot of public art that was thoughtful and inspiring. The sequence above started as I emerged from the bart station at the SFO stop. I have ordered these photos the same way I experienced them; I only wish you could seen the thousands of little silvery discs sparkle as the gusts blew up from the trains. I saw lots poetry in the street as well:

Market street.

I have more to tell about the concert I went to last week, but I haven't processed all of my thoughts about it yet. More soon.

awakenings

2009-09-13T22:51:00.000-07:00

- It started by passing time here:

- And listening.

- And noticing:

- And listening/watching again:

- Stopping by the library to pick up a copy of this.

- Letting myself realize that I don't always need to solve the problem I think I need to solve.

- And then buying a beautiful pair of shoes:

- I hope you find beauty and inspiration this week, as I have:

housewarming

2009-08-30T22:14:00.000-07:00

A quick post to show some things I have been working on. New patio, a few new pictures on the wall, curtains for the living room, running around trying to get my house ready for a housewarming. It was a nice gathering, and for about 10 minutes after it was over, I felt the letdown of not knowing what to do next. Then I discovered all the weeds that have grown up along the side of the house all summer, neglected. So I tackled that today.

I've been reflecting on what makes it so nice, having people over to see your house. Part of it is bringing people you like best from various disconnected parts of your world to your inner world, the one you created, the one you feel safest in. Another nice thing is knowing that some of these people live just down the road, and even if they don't spend a lot of time at my house and I don't spend a lot of time at theirs, knowing they're there is important, and knowing they can come together for an evening is almost like magic. I think this overrides the gut-turning anxiety I had about it all beforehand.

It's been a good summer. My hands hurt from lots of manual labor. There will always be small messes here or there. But my home feels more like mine.

fair day

2009-07-13T00:04:00.000-07:00

I went to the fair today to attend a wedding. It rained all day.

It was still beautiful, beautiful, Oregon.

I enjoyed being there, alone, and having time to see things, and space to remember other things.

I have things to say. I'm out of practice.

leave a light on

2009-06-06T12:42:00.000-07:00

I found this little guy at a hotel gift shop and just had to have him. I smile every time I walk by. If you are also inspired by animal talismans, you should check out this. All I can say is, for a lamp, he is oddly soothing...

environments, man-made, and not

2009-06-01T22:37:00.000-07:00

1. This is a nice place to sleep, for dogs.

2. I am G, with the baby blues. I am here with my sweet V, with the chocolate browns.

2. Coffee-drinking colors

3. And one space I am working on in my house: My living room, circa 1963. The sofa is a new-to-me craiglist find. The paint color is called "Ocean," No. 5. It is made by this paint company.

4. Box of rocks. Petrified wood, quartzite, sea glass...

This post is not about anything more than stopping -briefly- to take a snapshot of my surroundings and stretching- somewhat vainly- to see a pattern taking shape. I'm tired. I've been working on my house all the time, or at least it seems that way. This weekend I took down the storm windows from the front of the house and cleaned the windows and was surprised at how different the light looks inside, with clean windows. It was a very satisfying chore. Unlike the chore of moving the rocks, which I seem to be doing a lot lately. I am trying to clear a place for a new patio, and in the process I'm getting in touch with dirt. And the many piles of bricks, broken concrete, plastic, and other rubble that has lived in my backyard. On Sunday I had friends over. We ate in the backyard. It felt good to sit down for a bit.

5. A blue scrub jay watches from the trees. Under this table, dirt.

yard work is hard work

2009-05-04T19:04:00.000-07:00

These are a few things that you'd see if you came to my house for a visit. I have been working HARD to get the backyard in shape, not without a little help from my neighborhood cleanup and my neighbors and friends. On Saturday I woke up early and bagged up yard debris for two hours, until my friend C. came over with her dad's pickup. We made 3 trips to the Mt. Scott-Arleta /Foster Powell Neighborhood Cleanup Day. All told, I'd say I got rid of 30-40 bags of yard debris:

G. LOVES yardwork. Or, should I say, loves the DIGGING part of yardwork. Not a bad helper for the ivy madness going on here.

These are some of the birdhouses I found in the yard. They were mostly falling apart, but I kept the one on the lower left with the rivets.

On Saturday, after all my yard work was done, there was a freak thunderstorm in Portland. It hailed sideways. The big doug firs in the backyard swayed. The bluejay that had spent all afternoon building a nest in my lilac bush was disappointed, because this is what happened after the storm:

On Sunday, I took to the yard again, this time with an ingenious tool my neighbor T. lent me, called a "saws-all". I'm not sure if that's the right way to spell it, but it is one of those tools that does what it's name says. I sawed through ivy roots that had grown up through my basketweave fence for years. Some were 6-7" in diameter. It felt good. I'm still not finished. And then, there are these to contend with:

At the end of the day on Sunday, determined to get a last bit of ivy, I absent-mindedly sawed right through my neighbors hanger-cord that was holding up her downspout. This meant a 4:30- pm-on-a-Sunday race to the hardware store to find new hanger-cord, and then find a screw that would work to re-fasten it, before the next rainstorm hit. It was only after I got to the hardware store that I realized I had mud up to my elbows, on my face, and brambles attached to my hat. At least the hardware store guy believed me when I told him I was doing yard work. More like, yard "battle." That is the news from the yard. I didn't even get to the bruises part.

weekend at home, settling in

2009-04-12T23:54:00.000-07:00

A nice weekend, settling in. I took most of these outdoor pictures last weekend. Saturday and Sunday I spent cleaning, and getting a little more unpacked. I watched a couple of movies from my newly reupholstered loveseat. It feels good to be inside while it rained. Not ready for the workweek yet. But am glad for rest.

birds, birds, birds

2009-03-25T20:49:00.000-07:00

Another find! This is the umpteenth bird figurine I've unearthed from my backyard...isn't she sweet? I feel like it's my prize for diligent ivy-patrol. Now, to make friends with the pair of jays who live in the ivy hanging from one of my trees...

digging

2009-03-22T21:45:00.000-07:00

This weekend I spent at least 8 hours in my backyard, pulling ivy. I actually probably spent 10 hours, but I can't be sure, because I sort of lost track of time. I made some discoveries, and I feel like now is a good time to document them, before I forget.

1. I used tin snips to cut down the many pieces of wire that was used to hold up (train?) the ivy to this fence. There were probably at least 30 wire loops, and I'm not done yet.

2. The little old lady who used to live in my house loved birds. I knew this when I bought the house, but yesterday I met my neighbor, Olivia, and her husband Sherman, and their son Charlie, who is 10. They have lived next door in a triplex for 8 years. They came over to look at my ivy. They said that Irene, who was 93, they think, was very deaf and loved to be out in her yard. They said that in summer, there are so many birds that it's noisy. They had never seen the yard before, and Sherman's first comment, when he got his first glimpse, was, "No wonder the old lady never found my bungie cord."

3. The next day, I found Sherman's bungie cord. Under 3 feet of ivy.

4. I also found:
- a silver hubcap that says "Packard"
- two more birdhouses, one wood, one with an asphalt roof, like the roof on my house
- a car radio antenae
- various pieces of unidentifiable rusted metal
- a plant marker for "yellow boy" marigolds
- a small plastic seagull
- a plastic red decorative item of unknown purpose
- a green pottery shard
- two strange concrete items, below

I'm sure there will be more discoveries. It's so strange to think that I am unearthing 45 years of someone's existence. It feels sort of like archaeology.

I have more to write, but I'm feeling kind of tired after all the manual labor. It's a good tired, honest tired. It's nice to be home on a Sunday night, feeling this kind of tired.

To sleep!

time

2009-03-14T23:19:00.000-07:00

It's been a few weeks now that I've lived in my new house. I have felt overwhelmed, afraid, joyous, and at peace--fleetingly--and then the cycle of emotions begins again. I feel like I don't know anything.

No picture to post, because my portable hard drive is lost somewhere in the garage. And the cable to connect my camera to my computer? Is somewhere vacationing, without me.

I just wanted to post tonight to say that it is weird, owning something. And it is even weirder, when the feeling creeps up that you are the one who is owned by it. It's sort of a dark feeling, and I can't say I like it. I am determined that I won't be owned by it, and when I say owned, I mean when I'm standing in the supermarket wasting 13 minutes trying to decide what lightbulb to buy, that's being owned. There should be simple choices, but there are infinite choices. And it can trap you.

So, even though I love my house, I think my favorite part about it are the trees out back. I feel the best when I'm out there, pulling ivy, clearing away pine boughs. It's weird that I spent so much effort and persistence to become a homeowner, and yet the thing that gives most satisfaction is to be scratching in the dirt, pulling up a juniper, or a sprig of holly, unlacing ivy from around the base of a spruce. I think it may be that there are only two choices about ivy. It feels good to be on the side against ivy. I'm team no-ivy. It's nice to think of it as simple as that. My team, against ivy, and the ivy.

Lots of things have happened lately--all of my siblings have changed residences this past month, and there seems to be a new order of things forming. I don't know what it is yet. I hope it will give peace.

new habitat

2009-01-31T17:36:00.000-08:00

current backyard resident

living room windows

the workshop/converted garage

view to the bedrooms, from living room

dining area

spot for the new stove...
...and the new (old) stove!

It's going to be a lot of work getting the backyard in shape, but I think it will be a good home for me & g. and a nice place to share with family & friends!

2008-12-21T21:05:00.000-08:00

It snowed, and snowed, and snowed, all day yesterday and today. I couldn't ask for a better christmas present than to see snow on the ground in Portland.

I have been tromping around in it for the past three days, loving every minute. Tonight I headed out with G. and a friend's dog, and we ran and played in the snow. Everyone in the neighborhood is walking in the middle of the street now, because it's easier than navigating the sidewalks. I saw a man with a giant christmas wreath draped over his neck, walking with a big smile. I saw a couple carrying giant shards of ice as though they were large trophies, won from some cold conquest in the snow. Tomorrow, work is cancelled due to snow. All of it makes me smile.

I hope you are enjoying these days before christmas as much as I am.

snow!

2008-12-14T13:31:00.000-08:00

This week started out not so great. I lost my cell phone while walking G. I had no idea how much I rely on a silly piece of electronic equipment. It kind of makes me long for the old days, when your phone was not an item requiring insurance.

Today has made up for all of the inconvenience I felt earlier this week. It snowed last night in Portland! Here are some creatures of the snow for you to enjoy.

hello

2008-12-06T12:48:00.000-08:00

This morning I woke to find a new bird at my suet feeder, the lovely yellow rumped warbler. This one is a female. It's so interesting to me to observe the different bird behaviors; this little miss posed so nicely for me, it was easy to get a photo. She reminded me a bit of the way finches are so curious about people. She even stretched her neck up to get a better look at me. This, in contast to the chickadees, who are the tiny thieves; their one and only concern is to make off with the primest and plumpest sunflower seed possible. It makes it hard to get a decent picture, but when you do, it's so gratifying. I enjoy watching birds so much. Happy December!

box full of light

2008-11-24T21:52:00.000-08:00

Lately I have been taking a lot of pictures of the inside of my apartment. I've been getting up earlier to catch that moment in the day when the sun comes through at just the right angle, and then I see it for a moment--the moment now, the one I am living in.

There are only three other activities besides picture-taking that I feel this kinship with. The first is collecting rocks, because a rock collection is also a collection of moments. Moments that you participated in, and also, more importantly, rock-hard evidence of those moments you did not.

The second is, writing. Postcard writing used to be my absolute forte. One of my favorite activities on a Sunday afternoon in college was to head down to the antique shop and sit on the floor and ply through the biggest, oldest box of postcards I could find. I found postcards of places in Oregon that I bet are not even places anymore. Some of the cards in that box were not postcards at all but personal snapshots, the kind that were printed on cardstock, and that someone mistook for a postcard, because they seem like places now, through the lens of time--a photo of someone's back field, a sepia of a fine oak yard tree. Once I found the best card ever, a photograph that seemed impossible--like it was taken from a small glider plane, above a field of hay. In the foreground was a tow-headed boy running toward the camera. A dog chases him, or rather, just a blur indicating a dog. This was the best card I ever found. I still don't know if it was really taken from an airplane or what. Anyway after I found exactly the right card, I would take it over to the cafe and write out a moment on it, and send it to my best friend, who was in another college town exactly one state away, doing the same thing. I don't do it anymore, and I don't see why. Maybe when you are young you feel that every moment is new, and that here is somewhere, and not just for vacations, you write postcards and send them on the weekends.

The third is activity is, surfing in, or swimming in, the ocean. No analogy.

I don't know why this focus on the moment tonight. I feel out of touch with it sometimes. Other times, like I could reach out and touch it.

hello

2008-11-15T13:13:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have one of those weeks where you just feel relief? Relief that there was no bad news?That you made it through the week, and that things are going along ok? No flat bike tires, no bounced checks, no phone calls with bad news. It's been one of those weeks for me. I guess it's a combination of relief and thankfulness. It's just been such a hard go of it for a while for me--an illness of a close family member is something that is so hard to witness. On the bright side (I never used to say things like on the bright side; that alone speaks volumes about how far I've come), I have learned so much from it, about myself and about what (and who) I love.

Anyway, I am excited about this weekend not only because of the sunny weather we're having, but because for the first time I am not too tired from work or traveling to start working on some projects that have been hanging around. I put up a suet feeder in my window for the blue jays, and chickadees have been flitting about all morning, making off with the sunflower seeds as though they were small prizes. It is one of my favorite things about winter--seeing these birds return to my window. I recognize two of the chickadees from last winter.

I really should sign off now, so that I can get to work on my knitting, and Twin Peaks watching. Happy weekend!

thank you, veterans

2008-11-11T13:30:00.000-08:00

Today I feel compelled to remember how much I have to be thankful for. It's not everyday that we stop to remember the veterans who have risked and in some cases given their lives so that we can continue on our merry way, planning holidays, puttering about the house, knitting, traveling, watching movies, or just enjoying the peace and quiet of our homes--whatever way we chose to use our freedom. There is so much to be thankful for, and there are people who deserve thanks.

So thank you, veterans.

the color of the day

2008-11-09T18:04:00.000-08:00

Hello. I am back in Oregon after a few days in Idaho. It is always so nice to come back here after being somewhere more conservative than these parts, and I always end up feeling thankful for my walkable neighborhood and good coffee and my cozy apartment.

The morning I left Portland I heard a report about this on the radio.

Tomorrow it's back to work. Happy Sunday, all.

... and so the dems voted

2008-11-05T00:10:00.001-08:00

Happy Democracy again everyone!

ain't it hard

2008-10-29T22:28:00.000-07:00

This will be a short post. I am cleaning, cleaning, cleaning, and I need a break. I sometimes wish my apartment would self-clean while I'm away at work. But I suppose I should have gratitude toward that clean feeling, the one you can only get through toiling away at something.

I have just a few things share this evening. This is one. Or, if you aren't in the toiling mood, you could just watch this.

perspective

2008-10-22T21:22:00.000-07:00

This morning at 6:30 a.m. you would have found me in my kitchen carefully measuring, grinding, French pressing, and adding cream. At 7:45, you would have found me on my bike. My thermos of coffee, in the same moment, would be right where I left it, on the kitchen counter.

It has been that kind of day. Luckily it is a wonderland outside right now, and my favorite season to be in Portland.

down

finding the way

2008-10-16T20:41:00.000-07:00

I took this photo a few days ago, when it was still quite light out on my 7 am dogwalk. That's my camera strap in the reflection there. I have no idea what the mark on the ground means. It reminded me of les fleches bleus.

I wonder sometimes if there isn't a path marked out, written in birdseed or a trail of breadcrumbs, and I just don't see it? Tomorrow, I am going to look for it.

the chocolate bomb

2008-10-13T13:42:00.000-07:00

Comfort food, for hard times.

on being rich

2008-10-11T14:11:00.000-07:00

These sand dollars have been sitting in my windowsill for about two weeks now, turning a lovely shade of white in the fall light. I gathered them from my trip to Pacific Beach a few weeks ago, a last-hurrah-of-summer kind of trip, and I'm really glad I brought these home as souvenirs. I haven't felt very rich lately but looking at these makes me remember that not all richness has to do with the stock exchange.

But it's hard not to feel worried about the direction of things. I saw on the news last night that the stocks of companies like Kraft and Campbells are the only ones showing significant gains, and people speculate that it's because of the comfort food factor. I'm not surprised. Tonight I'm invited over to a friend's for mac & cheese, and I can't wait.

I have been thinking a lot too about my old friend M.F.K. Fisher, and taking comfort in the fact that others have had to batten down the hatches. And that there is some joy to be had in enjoying what you have. It makes you more sensitive, to the sharing of things amongst eachother, like what happens when you read an inspiring blog, or go to a friend's for dinner, or get a special mix CD, or sit down to make something. These are all important things to me lately.

today

2008-09-25T23:13:00.000-07:00

Today at work I translated from English to French. To all those who want to know how I'm using my degree in French and one year of study at l'universite de lumiere: it is by assisting fellow coworkers to write snobbery.

Today I realized that once in a while, I should try to dress better.

Today I ate soup and read the newspaper.

Today I sighed and wished I were somewhere else. So I could eat one of these.

Today I watched a Woody Allen movie. Woody Allen movies always make me sad and happy at the same time. I don't seem to have trouble feeling sad and happy at the same time these days. It takes so little effort to feel them both at once. I am suspicious of people who feel only one emotion at a time.

I'm trying to have joy, or at least courage. I really really am.

hello, fall

2008-09-16T21:26:00.000-07:00

It's interesting to consider the things we like around us best. All my summer things all look like they belong in fall. My wool herringbone picnic blanket, a corner of my summer purse (black and white), dog leash, stripey brown flip flops, spotted merle dog.

And the best proof of fall impending: I've got knitting in that bag. And even though it's still predicted to be in the 90s tomorrow, I am looking forward to fall.

dernier jours

2008-09-01T21:18:00.000-07:00

Last days of summer. I've had such a lovely weekend. Two long hikes in Forest Park, school clothes shopping (except I'm not in school), and then Swifts at Chapman School. Knitting season coming up. And running season. Combien j'aime etre au dehors.

go team fall

2008-08-29T20:52:00.000-07:00

Do you have a crush on anything right now? I am big on crushes. I get them all the time. I get big ones pretty easily, but I actually like it better when I have lots of little crushes. Right now I am REALLY excited about fall. Walking in the neighborhood right about 8 pm, just before it gets dark, I just love the light. To me, it's a whiter light. Like there's a beginning about to happen.

Some of the other things that I'm crushing on about fall:

I am going to go camping at least once.
I might try out a team sport.
I am gonna go surfing at least a couple of times.
I am going to see about placing an order for a beauty pretty bike.
new shoes.

This album.

Hail the crush. I don't know how I would get by without it.

somedays

2008-08-01T19:41:00.001-07:00

I get this feeling.

summer

2008-07-23T20:05:00.000-07:00

Oh, summer. Your azure glints, your green embraces. Your rocky upward pushing through my thermarest, insisting on my age. Summer, I like thee a lot. But I'm getting all excited about fall, too.

It's been a good week for me. I got a haircut. I am a little worried my new haircut resembles his, but not too worried. Hair grows back.

I am trying to plan some exciting things for myself over these next few weeks. I don't know what they'll be.

post-fair blues

2008-07-13T16:57:00.000-07:00

On Friday, I took the day off to go to Oregon Country fair. Hurrah for days off.

This is the famed coconut island, from a booth set up by this restaurant. Sticky rice with coconut ice cream and all those toppings falling all over you. Omg.

The only thing these pictures do not let on to is how hot, sticky, and summer-ed out I feel after the fair. It's almost like the feeling you get right after your birthday party. Nothing is as vivid or as carefree, as normal life sets in again. Maybe that is why it's good to take pictures, to remember. And get some temporary souvenirs:

And Poor G. He has been alternately sitting on my bed in front of the AC, and following me about despondently, tail down in a low wag. Hot dog. I finally took off his collar and threw him in the tub. No soap or anything. Now it is just me and a wet dog following me about. And can't forget, the hum and rattle of the air conditioner. I kind of wish I had the energy to make some hibiscus sun tea, or any sun tea, really, but I am too lazy to make the trek to the mexican grocery store for the hibiscus. I kind of wish I had the energy to do anything. Hope your Sunday finds you well.

found

2008-07-10T23:35:00.000-07:00

I started reading the most wonderful book today. It's this one. I am only a few chapters into it, but I can already tell it is going to be a favorite book. I can tell because it already has me thinking of other stories, my own stories, stories I thought I had forgotten.

The other reason I know I love this book are the animals in the book. I adore the animals in this book. Animals I have counted so far: a wolf pup, a golden dog named Almondine, and an otter. All of the animals in the book seem so real you feel their eyes on you. This is strange and surprising and I don't know what to think of the feeling quite yet. It is sort of the same feeling you get when you are looking hard trying to see a bird in a bush so you can know the bird, know it by the shape of its wingtips or the bars or bands or stripes of its plumage, and to be able to name the bird, know by naming. And you suddenly realize, foolishly, that bird is looking back at you. And there is no naming that feeling. This book has a little taste of that.

I am going to spend some time outside tomorrow. I'm going to get up early and walk G. and then make coffee and put it in a thermos, and then be on the road. I couldn't be more excited.

meme

2008-07-06T22:35:00.000-07:00

Inspired by Fig and Plum.

1) What was I doing 10 years ago?

I believe I was about to get on a plane headed for London with my boyfriend. I can't be sure of the exact date we left, but I know my trip to the u.k. lasted exactly 50 days in 1998. About eight days of that were spent hiking a hilly 95-mile trail. We made it as far as Kinlochleven, where, after a grueling 16-mile day which involved hiking something called The Devil's Staircase, we checked into the bed and breakfast and settled in to watch a bit of the world cup on tv in the pub. I fainted from exhaustion at the table, and we ended up taking a bus the last 15 miles to Fort William. What I remember most about the trip is how fantastically bratty I was the entire time. I had wanted to cut my hiking baby teeth on the flatter english coast-to-coast, but my boyfriend insisted on the steeper, shorter, craggier, scottish west highland way. I think most of my exhaustion was caused by pouting for eight days straight prior to actually setting foot on the trail. Still, I count it as one of the most stunning trips of my life.

2) What are 5 things on my to-do list for today?

1. organize my closet
2. ~~Post to the blog~~
3. see the latest James McAvoy flick. I would watch that boy read the phone book.
4. rest up for monday
5. post to flickr
6. ponder my next trip out of the country
7. not get totally sidetracked looking at old photos i found in my closet

(oops that's more than five...)

3) Snacks I enjoy:

carrots
popcorn
kimchi
fig newtons
briney, cold feta cheese on crackers

4) Things I would do if I were a billionaire (in no particular order):

always fly first class make a big trip yearly, not once a decade
give $$ to medical research
give $$ to people planning bike routes through urban areas

5) Places I have lived:

wrangell, alaska
greeley, colo.
springfield, colo.
tacoma, wash.
eugene, ore.
lyon, france
portland, ore.

6) Jobs I have had:

pie baker
lab tech
bookstore clerk
administrative assistant
copy editor
magazine writer
code writer
technical writer

You're it!!

freeze frame

2008-06-30T23:52:00.000-07:00

I don't know what's happening to my creative life. I know one thing for sure: it's changing. It's being influenced, lately, in a big way, by big things happening. I started this blog to document, in part, the details of my life, the stuff of everyday around me that enchants and reminds me that I am here, on this planet, and that time is passing, and I am experiencing it. But lately, it feels like everything that happens is so big, and sweeping. It feels too big. Like I need to narrow the focus, to just one frame. Do you ever get that feeling? You just want one, digestible, totally tackle-able thing. Maybe a puzzle. Or the comics. Or the crossword. Or one very slow walk around the block. Right now I am looking for that thing. Looking and listening.

far and flung

2008-06-24T22:31:00.000-07:00

I recently visited the Seattle Public Library for the first time. I loved the carpet best--a big graphic print of seafoam green weeds underfoot. There were nice places to read. And the light poured in from everywhere, beautiful blue-grey Seattle light. I can't wait to go back soon.

It's been a busy couple of weeks. Strangely, I have had a lot of down time. I read this book. And started this one. I've had time to ponder knitting for fall.

While I was in Seattle last week, I took the ferry across the Puget Sound, from downtown Seattle to Bremerton. Even though I have lived in the NW for a long time now, and have taken many ferry rides, this one was probably my longest. It took an hour to make the crossing. I was glad it was sunny that day. And I'm glad I brought a book. That's a funny thing about traveling. It's half about being there, exactly in the moment, and half about being perfectly ready, with all your creature comforts.

Here are some things that I've learned from traveling a lot recently:

1. I try to limit the number of electronic gadgets I haul around with me, even though it can be hard.

2. I only carry a smallish overnight bag for clothes, and change my mostly black-brown-grey wardrobe up with a scarf or different shoes if I have to see the same people from day to day. Because I hate doing laundry.

3. Library books. But don't leave them on the ferry!

4. I am embarrassed to admit that I usually carry 4-6 different kinds of lip balm around with me at all times. There is no way around this. Same goes for my toiletries--it is probably the heaviest part of my luggage and the most difficult to pack.

5. Always, always get the $1 coffee from the vending machine when you ride the ferry. It's not good coffee, but it's a miracle that it's even there. I drink it with a little blessing in my heart for the commuter-ferry planner gods.

6. Read the hotel room service menu. I never order anything from it, but one of these days I will.

7. I always throw all of my stuff into a $9 hot pink duffle bag I bought at Tar-J. It's cheap and I always know which one's mine.

That's all for now. Talk soon!

liminal spaces

2008-06-22T16:59:00.000-07:00

This is a picture of a place in Juneau called False Point. I had a great time here, bouldering around in the tide pools and inspecting the barnacles up-close. I love how you can forget yourself for a little while at the beach. Or maybe it's just that the world, considered from the land's edge, is just overwhelming enough that the voice in your head has a hard time justifying making too much of a racket. Surely, places like this change you forever. I think for me, this is a big part of what summer means to me.

I haven't posted much lately, and I am still trying to work out how or why or under what assumption I want to continue posting. I am not focused enough to make this simply a travel journal, or a chronicle of my creative life, or even just a place to vent. I find myself inconsistent. And yet, this place, the blogging place, is still important to me. I spend a good 8 hours a day in my working life writing things down, and so the extra writing that I do here seems like it should be more meaningful. I'm not sure how.

I'll keep you posted.

alaska story

2008-06-10T23:45:00.000-07:00

I went to Alaska to visit my family. I took a lot of pictures. There are so many, and my computer is so slow. I will be uploading them to flickr all week.

zen and the art of stick carrying

2008-05-30T22:50:00.001-07:00

prairie land

2008-05-26T17:41:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while it is necessary for me to get out of my head, see something that completely changes my perspective on the world. This weekend, that place was Zumwalt Prairie, in eastern Oregon. I only spent about 2 hours there, but it was enough to turn me into a prairie-devotee. See more pics of prairie and plants and birds here.

dear stumptown, love me

2008-05-18T12:19:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I ended up at City Market, on a mission to buy a nice summer cucumber, when I stumbled upon the new packaging for Stumptown. Ain't it cute? This little card pulls out of the pouch, so you can read up on where the coffee was grown, and how high up, and what the flavor profile is. The elevation is important because it means it probably wasn't grown on a coffee plantation, (a landscape-destroying agricultural practice). It's not organic, I notice, but it is something called Direct Trade, which is different from Fair Trade, because it pays the grower a premium.

I not only love the details that are revealed here, I love the coffee. This morning I tried Nicaragua Los Delirios, and I am smiling. It is light roast coffee like I like it.

better living through dogs

2008-05-07T23:36:00.000-07:00

One of my coworkers recently told me that the human mind can only effectively hold 4 things in the mind at any given time.

Which is why I love G. so much. G. will get an idea, and he sticks with it. Sometimes I will come home from work and he does a little dance around the sofa, like Give it. Red squeak ball. Under sofa. Jeez.

I wish I had his sense of purpose. I wish I could be as present for someone, as he is for me.

visitor

2008-05-04T14:29:00.000-07:00

I have been trying for weeks now to get a shot of this little guy. He is a mountain chickadee, and he's the first bird to discover the feeder I've had up on my apartment window since last year. He has a friend, a black-capped chickadee, but they always visit separately. I think he is getting more used to me being here, typing away at my desk, which is directly next to the window. I only wish I had the patience of other birder bloggers, who seem to be able to capture their backyard visitors without any effort at all. Well, I'm off to enjoy the wonderful sunny weather we're having here in Portland. Have a good Sunday!

favorite things

2008-04-29T23:16:00.001-07:00

I'm up late tonight, doing a load of laundry, feeling awake. You know that scene in Amelie, when the narrator says, Amelie Poulain aime .... and then cuts to scenes of her cracking creme brulees and skipping stones? Get ready. I thought I'd share a little bit of what has inspired me lately, and how it came into my life.

1. Fleet Foxes Sun Giant EP. First heard during a rare drive around in my car on a late-night quest for a certain kind of green tea. I didn't find the tea, but I did hear this song, which is full of reverb (my new vocab word of the week) and reminds me of Bruce Springsteen and Band of Horses all at once. Even if these guys think they are not hippies, they definitely are. Plus it is right next to Fleetwood Mac on my iTunes library, and it blends.

2. This tea. I am a tea junkie. A whole cupboard in my kitchen is devoted to the stuff. And I'm a total sucker for cute packages of bag tea. An assortment goes into my bike pannier every Monday morning so I can have something to look forward to at work. Current favorites? Ginger. Green.

3. Cotton. I am mostly a wool person. But lately I have rediscovered the joy of warm cotton things fresh from the dryer. Right now I am coveting this.

4. Wooden kitchen things. I recently made a trip to see my 24 year old brother. He has no kitchen stuff. I mean no kitchen stuff. We bought him wooden spoons for $1.89. They are the best thing to stir the sauce with.

5. My new friend who comes down from the Mountains to eat breakfast with me on Sundays. He does not diss hippies.

6. My new celly. It's shiny. I can play Ms. Pac Man on it.

7. Blankie. Pictured above. I can't find another one like it. Because I want to make a bathrobe out of that material.

8. Bachelor. Especially, I love the two final contestants, Shayne and Chelsea. I love both of them. Because they are both better than the bachelor.

Ok, laundry's done. You know all my dirty laundry now. Goodnight, all.

on coping

2008-04-27T10:26:00.000-07:00

It's been a tough week. I don't know how I got through it, but I do know that I need to lay my hands on some coping strategies for this next bit. What do you all do when life seems overwhelming?

On Saturday Portland was like summertime--sunny and mild. I took G. down to Jamison Square and we lolled about in the grass for a while with all the families out walking and kids running through the fountain. G. loves just sitting and people watching these days, which was about all the energy I had in me to do. So for a while, there was a reprieve.

Today I've got a few things in mind I'd like to do, and I think I better go do them before it gets too late. Bisous.

other habitats

2008-04-25T20:22:00.001-07:00

Out of my Portland habitat for a week. I only took one photo, and this is it.

cookies and houseguests

2008-04-13T21:09:00.001-07:00

I think I have discovered the key to taking good pictures of pets. First, be sure it is a small pet. The bigger ones are harder to get in the frame. Second, lure them with cookies. These are the molasses spice cookies from Chistopher Kimball's Yellow Farmhouse Cookbook. I love this recipe because it calls for only one egg, no milk, and I always have all the other ingredients in my little dry pantry. I doubly love this recipe because molasses spice cookies are my absolute favorite sweet to eat with green tea. And green tea is what we are having this evening.

That little girl in the corner, looking so sweet and innocent? Shelby, my friend C's dog and who is visiting me this coming week while C's out of town. Shelby weighs about 12 pounds. Don't tell C, but I call her Blondie.

After a week out of town, I had been craving a hole-up weekend, one where I did not really need to think about anything. And so that is what I did. It is nice to have a retreat.

That's not to say I am not thinking about things. But it's funny how, when stressing about whatever the stress of the moment is, I come back to the basics. Cookies and tea.

And that's not to say I didn't have daydreams about what I could have accomplished this weekend. I could have followed up on my plans to make some curtains for the window by my bed, or to make one of these to hang in my bathroom. Instead, I cleaned the bathroom, caught up on some favorite new blogs and oh yes, drank green tea. Did I tell you I am thinking about writing a book? Called Cooking With Pets. Ok. Not really. But I did come across this recipe for dog cookies that I may have to break down and try out.

Alrighty, that's all for now. Monday tomorrow. Bon courage, tous.

houses and homes

2008-04-12T10:47:00.001-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about houses recently. This one is my parents' old house. They sold it in 2003, a year of upheaval in my life, and a year when I really resented them selling it. I had the opportunity to drive by it recently and I wanted to know if I still felt as attached, after five years. The new owners painted it a wan green, and it's a little sad to see that it doesn't look better than the way my parents left it. But am I still attached? Yes, utterly.

I wanted to take this picture because it's a good likeness of the image I carry around in my head when I think of home. And the funny thing is, that image is not that changeable, even if the actual structure is.

This house was far from perfect when we moved in, but its imperfections were a part of what I loved about it. I would sit in the backyard with the fruit trees on the old weathered wood deck and imagine how this would look here, how the sunroom in the back would look like this, and what we could do about the patio. Nothing was perfect, but there was all kinds of potential. And as anyone with an overactive imagination can attest, potential gives you hope. It gives room to dream.

During the mid-nineties, my stepdad worked tirelessly on this house. All the fixing up just never seemed to end. The roof got replaced. House painted. Kitchen redone. Floors refinished. Endless small chores. I don't remember helping much.

And not only did the house change, but we changed. My mom was diagnosed with cancer while we lived here, and she got better here too. My youngest brother graduated high school. I finished college. My middle brother moved away, and then moved back again.

I am not ready to buy my first house, not yet. I just want to document this now, this feeling of what it is that shapes my understanding of houses and homes. Some of it can be shown in a drive-by photo, but a lot of it is in my own heart.

weekend cures

2008-04-06T18:33:00.000-07:00

The only thing you can't see in this photo are the many, many balled up tissues scattered across my bed. It's allergy season, and I am affected.

Knitting is hugely distracting, but for the times when I can't hole up in my apartment, I have discovered some little cures that help me make it through the day. For my sore throat it's something hot, preferrably with echinacea or licorice root in it. When I've had enough herbal brews (and believe me, there is a point when you actually can't drink anymore of the stuff), there's this great new water I discovered, which has mint in it. I sip on a bottle for as long as I can draw it out. It's great. I love how it gives me the illusion that I can breathe through my nose.

And I never thought I would say it, and I won't elaborate, but if you can get over the weirdness of it, I highly recommend the neti.

So that's the fascinating world I have been dwelling in for the past week. Tomorrow I am headed north for a work trip, where I hear the pollen counts are even higher. Bye for now.

on the slow but steady process

2008-03-30T15:54:00.001-07:00

...of geeking oneself out. I went to the last day of the REI sale today, on the pretense of "just looking" and came home with these. They are bike shoes. They don't even technically work with the new pedals I just bought. But they have pink stripes. rawr.

it hailed today!

2008-03-29T17:25:00.001-07:00

the view from under my umbrella.

greetings

2008-03-27T21:23:00.000-07:00

from me and the tree growing about a block away from my office building, in downtown Portland, Oregon.

how to be cheerful though starving

2008-03-25T21:36:00.001-07:00

"... it is not that she wandered at night hunting for leaves and berries; it is that she cared enough to invite her friends to share them with her ..." M.F.K Fisher, How to Cook a Wolf.

If the night=the internet, then tonight's leaves and berries=

1. two! favorite! new! songs! in! one! week! called: 1. Heartbeats and (appropriately) 2. Rich Girl

2. japanese books.

3. pure talent.

3. thoughts about faraway places.

4. sleep, glorious sleep! goodnight!

renew

2008-03-23T11:17:00.000-07:00

Do you have a favorite something? Something that is so old, that it is almost a part of you? I'm thinking of something knitted, of course, but it could be anything. A song, a pair of well-worn shoes, something gifted, or something that has been transformed, from ugly-new to beautifully worn?

I am not a religious person, but I do have this general feeling that renewal is a good thing to ponder. And I believe strongly that we can find beauty in our lives, without needing to go out and buy it. Some of these ideas come from a wonderful book that a friend recently gave me, which proposes the not-so-new idea that beauty is interactive. That beauty can be coaxed from your life, documented. The book is mainly about a philosophical approach to living. So in honor of renewal, I am proposing a challenge: show me the old-new beauties of your life. Flick over to my new group, where I've posted some of mine.

spring for reals

2008-03-22T14:56:00.001-07:00

I took a long walk down to the waterfront this morning in hopes of snapping some more cherry blossom pictures. Because I am a flower fiend. Apparently I wasn't the only one with this brilliant idea. The place was literally crawling with people, cameras in hand. Cherry-blossom-fever people, I call them.

And then, the best picture I take all day, is this one. Taken next to the dumpster behind my apartment building. Some days are like that. Beauty where you expect it escapes out the back door, maybe for a smoke, or something. And beauty is therefore found out back, I guess. Enjoy your Saturday!

happy spring!

2008-03-20T21:13:00.001-07:00

I took this picture in front of the justice center today. Whoever thought to plant cherry trees here, bless their heart. We worker bees (and jail inmates too) we all need to be nuzzled by cherry blossoms once in a while.

This has been a week of playing catch-up for me. I got some good news toward the end of the workday, and it's always nice to end the day on a high note. Even though I don't work more than most people hours-wise, it feels like all I do lately is work. But today I took a hard look at my vacation calendar and tried to plan some. It's nice to do that sometimes. Maybe it just opens your horizon a bit.

a post about a post about a post (or, what I did in las vegas)

2008-03-18T21:12:00.000-07:00

Hi! So, I just got back from Nevada and Arizona, and I learned some stuff. Like, you can't drink in parking lots there. Or hotel lobbies. But sidewalk drinking? It's cool.

I am making fun, but I have to say, after my first involuntary 24 hours in Las Vegas (delayed flight) and after a lifetime of resolving to never go there, of my own will and on my own dime, I would definitely go back. The roller coaster ride was pretty good. The $4.50 Americanos at Starbucks, were not. My favorite part had to be calling Hard Rock Cafe to see if they accepted the free meal vouchers that my airline gave me for my trouble. I didn't actually eat there, but just in case you were wondering, they really do answer the phone with "Thank you for calling Hard Rock Cafe. How Can I Rock Your World?"

Anyway. The real point of this post is to tell you that your normally programmed Paris-Hilton-free plant dreaming deep will be back soon, with tales from the world of knitting, plants, domestic life, pale skin, unmanicured fingers, and the occasional intermittent deep sigh. Talk soon. -Anita

10 spot

2008-03-12T22:27:00.000-07:00

If you've ever been to Portland, you know of a little pizza shop called "Escape from New York," on NW 23rd Avenue. And if you know Escape, you also are intimate with all the vintage photos from the 70s they have hanging on the walls. I've always regretted not taking more candid pictures of friends, especially when I meet them on the street. There is just something so delightful about encountering a person you know on a street, in their own habitat. Maybe that is why I love looking at these pictures so very much.

But back to pizza. Even though I rarely venture in for a slice anymore, every once in a while I get this hankering to feel the grit. That old-time Portland grit, I mean. Portland is full of places that are not scrubbed and happy and sparkly, and these are the places that feel the most right to me, that feel most like places to me. Like the old Bridgeport Brewing building, with the vines trailing from one building to the next. Or Escape from New York. Or the Shanghai Tunnel, for a quick game of pinball. These things were all things I discovered the first year I moved to Portland, in 1998, just after college. The grit is harder and harder to find, but it's still here, if you look hard enough.

One of my favorite things about Portland is that it's so layered. Sometimes, when I walk through the Pearl District, I get this weird feeling, like somebody decided to renovate their Victorian-era kitchen, but left the cast iron appliances, and decided that damnit, it works with stainless steel countertops.

This week, I had lunch with an old college friend, and we joked about how we couldn't remember who moved to Portland first. I maintain that he moved here before me, and he says it was the other way around. What's clear to me is that I can hardly remember what it feels like not to live in Portland, I have lived here so long. All of my adult post-college existence, in fact.

And when I try to remember why I moved here, or what the exact formulation about it in my mind was when I decided it, I really can't say. If I had any idea then that I would still be here, in practically the same neighborhood, and going for dog walks down the same streets, with my now 10-year old dog, or that I would be so attached to the idea of being here, I probably would be slightly worried.

But I am not. I am looking forward to traveling this year, to a couple of different places, maybe. And even though my life is hardly glamorous, I like the thought of me-and-my-town, me, 10 years older, but an inhabitant of someplace. There is me, in my dog walking outfit, coming around the corner by Couch Park, or me, in my boring worker bee clothes, coasting down Alder street. Happy anniversary to you and me, Portland.

dog mountain

2008-03-09T22:02:00.001-07:00

I don't know why, when I get in a funk, it takes me so long to remember what to do about it. It's always the thing that instantly makes me feel better, but somehow I seem to put it off or act like it's medicine. It is medicine. Dog Mountain, on the Washington side of the Columbia Gorge, that is. Or any small hill that one can climb. G. thinks so too.

The thing is, this week I have been in a fever about lots of things that, for the moment, are totally out of my control. Like dwelling on what to do about work? On a Saturday? When it's 60 degrees outside? Right, not really feelin it so much anymore. That will be for tomorrow.

The thing about climbing hills, and especially steep hills, is that you can't think about anything else except putting one foot in front of the other. I mean, I did think about stuff. But when your lungs are full of fresh air, and there are twittering sounds from the bushes and small butterflies landing on you, you tend to kind of push the work back. Along with everything else.

There were hardly any people on the trail today, but there was sun, and once you got away from the sound of trains and cars moving through the Gorge, everything was wonderful and silent. When I got to the top I met this little Japanese man who was off by himself taking in the view. He told me I should go back the way I came, because the west side of the mountain was still covered in snow in places, and the trail was too. I said thanks and headed back down the south side. Sometimes that's all I want from the world. Someone friendly there, when I need them, to tell me what to do. And I obey, because it's the sensible thing to do.

Here's what else I did this weekend. Happy daylight savings.

me vs. the life-suckers

2008-03-08T20:09:00.001-08:00

Today I picked up some new pedals for the bike. Aren't they pretty? That's G. in the background there, who is nonplussed by new bike pedals. He did dig on the pretty bike boy who installed these at the shop and fed him biscuits.

My visit to the bike shop, and just about anything else I do outside of the confines of my little office cube, gives me spring fever. It could be all the effing catalogues arriving in my mailbox each day, which I now believe are designed to torture people without trust funds. I don't think I'm the only one with a case. I walked by the REI in the Pearl today and saw the hordes streaming in.

The thing is, I can't do the vacation that I am dreaming about right now, and it makes me cranky and impossible to be around and sucks about two ounces of life out of my soul each day. I know because those two ounces come out of the hollows of my once-young mien. My truest and most pristine and untainted-by-thoughts-of-work behavior lately has been the 13 minutes during my bike ride to work. So fuck it, I'm going to pimp it out.

don't blink

2008-03-06T23:34:00.000-08:00

...or you'll miss it. It seems like everyone I've talked to recently has marveled at how quickly the year has flown by. March already. Incroyable.

This is what I've got for today. I wish I had more.

$1.99 kind of love

2008-03-02T11:43:00.000-08:00

Hi again. It's March! The corner has been turned! Yesterday in Portland we had some really spectacular skies, my favorite intermittent-rain-then-cloudbreak kind of weather, the kind of sky that doesn't let you dwell on anything for too long. I spent a good part of the day driving around to thrift shops, which is one of the things I love to do when I have free time. It's the closest to meditation that I get. Maybe it has something to do with not really wanting anything in particular, but being open to whatever comes. And then there's the fun part, where you imagine the past life of the object you find.

In my imagining, this honeypot used to grace the table of a little cabin up on the side of Mt. Hood somewhere. A pine table with crumbs from bread baked on vacation, and the smells of spring drifting through the window. Maybe here.

And this baker dish, with the sweet acorns in gold leaf? A little old woman kept this in her cupboard for years. The kind of cupboard that creaks when you open it. And even though she didn't use it much, it was busted out on any occasion where a root vegetable needed roasting, or a potato needed scalloping, or even as a holder for roasted nuts.

I don't know why these things make me happy to think about. But I take what I can get.

creative fuel

2008-03-01T12:55:00.000-08:00

Well, hi there. This is my new pimped-out camera strap. And that's my French Press.

I wish I had more to show for all this time not really blogging. But I've been bus-y at work, and when not working, I've been in the dentist's chair or recovering from it. I took yesterday off, and took the opportunity to 1) ranger la cuisine (that's French for clean the kitchen) and 2) sit on my couch and watch Becoming Jane for the 14th time. I also sewed on this ribbon. Now I'm about to go enjoy some more of this strange faux-spring we've been having. More soon!

restorative work

2008-02-28T22:32:00.001-08:00

...is how the dentist describes what he has been doing to my teeth lately. I say, no sir. Restorative work, well let me tell you a thing about restorative work. It is done in green places, like Scotland or Oregon, in the out of doors, and with the touch of mild air on your skin, and with the whisper of spring kissing your neck. It is possible to do while planting trees. Or running near rhodedenrons, and their perfumey fug. You can do it while rereading Anna Karenina. Or laying on a hot flat rock in sun, near a creek. One thing I know. It is not about teeth.

spring

2008-02-17T17:32:00.001-08:00

Can you feel it?

dreams of baby trees

2008-02-12T23:45:00.000-08:00

This is a grey wall. Those are barren branches. It's February. For me, this means a lot of hot chocolate in the evenings, caffeine in the mornings, crushes mustered for the sake of crushing, and courage, courage, courage.

One thing that is keeping me going this time of year is my participation in the Friends of Trees neighborhood tree planting, coming up this weekend. This will be my second year doing neighborhood coordinator work. There's nothing like a little bit of community to bolster the spirit. And dreams of baby trees.

good beginnings

2008-02-09T12:47:00.001-08:00

First weekend, age 33.

where love lives

2008-02-07T23:39:00.000-08:00

It's taken me 33 years and a couple of hours to formulate the thought I'm about to tell you. It may sound simple, or naive, or I don't know what. It's a thought about love, and how we give it, or get it, or hold it, or have it, or withhold it, or live with it, or without it.

In my little life, I find it's easy to think about love as something that other people have. When really, love is walking into your morning coffee shop and feeling the misery of your barista, even though she has scowled at you every day this week. Love is walking into your brother's new house and letting him walk you through it, showing you all the contents of it. It's waking up in the morning and talking to your dog, and asking him questions, even though he doesn't ever answer. It's being there, in your grey-walled little cubicle, wearing that same Monday sweater with the elbows nearly worn through, when your boss calls you. Love cleans up messes. Love gets around town by bike. It doesn't sneak out the back when your family comes for a visit. Love stays.

It's love that I love when I love.

There's even a kind of loving in all of the small actions of every day, if you look for the places where love can fit. I sometimes think of love as the cheese in my sandwich. A little love happens whenever I run for a bit, or walk quicker than usual, or slower, or really shut up and listen for it. And sometimes, love dawns slowly, and sometimes, we conk heads. Love happens equally well when I refrain from interrupting it, or interrupt it gently, but with love.

It's true, there's a brand out there of one person love, and some people spend a whole lifetime, trying to buy it. The apple of your eye. The butter on your bread. But the brand of love that I'm spreading. on. thick. is richer! creamier! smoother & will not ever make you fat. It comes in a completely recyclable container. 30% less heartache.

What's clear to me is, I can't go around saying it's something I don't have. It's not something to be had. And now this is the thought. Love lives.

birthday weather

2008-02-06T23:22:00.001-08:00

In Portland, there's this bike event they call "The Worst Day of the Year Ride". I always feel a big smirk coming on when I start seeing the advertisements for it, because my birthday nearly always falls the same week. Gotta love it.

for you

2008-02-05T19:25:00.002-08:00

sunday ode to the digital camera

2008-02-03T12:42:00.001-08:00

I am still getting used to my new digital camera, but the more I use it, the more I love it. Here's why:

1. 6x digital zoom
2. setting for pets & kids that can also be used on the errant sparrow that crosses one's path
3. review button
4. one handed picture taking
5. assistance in bird ID
6. the way it enhances my listening skills, as in the clip below. I didn't realize it when I was taking this video, but if you listen carefully, you can hear the church bells that this little guy is jamming to in the background.

home sweet

2008-02-02T15:02:00.001-08:00

Being home again after a week of Albuquerque parking lots, airports, and hotel food is like coming home to a luxury spa. I have a whole new appreciation for my walkable neighborhood, my corner grocery store, and a million other small things about my life that I never would have reflected on had I not gone away. I am so thankful that I brought a new knitting project to work on in the evenings. It's good to be back.

wherein I admit to my friday night

2008-01-25T20:36:00.001-08:00

So no, I didn't drink the whole bottle. But, yes, I did eat the whole pizza, alone, with even more arugula than you see here. Ahh, Friday nights in singledom, as Bridget Jones would say. V. v. good for curling up by telly. V. v. bad for waistline. But there is a reason for all this dairy. You see, there is a little wee bit of a reason to celebrate chez moi: this week I got a fat bonus. And an "exceptional" rating from my very sweet boss, who said I have "unlimited" potential with the department. This is something that honestly has never, ever, happened. Or not in such a nice way.

It makes me want to buy a plant and an oriental rug and a little feng-shui mirror for my little cube, because I feel like, now, I know they like me. Now, I can stay a while.

It feels good to get a bit of recognition, but I shouldn't discount all the hard work and focus it has taken. This Sunday I leave for Albuquerque, NM, for a week of training. It should be interesting. I am not looking forward to spending my Sunday in Mountain time airports, but that seems to be on the agenda. Tomorrow, however, will be a day for a much-overdue hike in Forest Park, new yarn for a knitting project to take with me on the trip, a new library book, (or, more realistically, a few trashy magazines) and then maybe some laying about.

My contribution to the blogging world tonight isn't much more than the passing on of good recommendations I have had from friends who have more experience than I navigating the world of tvs. Now that I own a dvd-tv combo (it felt v. trashy to say that, btw) recommendations are pouring in from everywhere. I heard from K. about the British version of The Office. A. says that the new BBC Jane Austen series and Arrested Development are good too. I have been subsisting on repeated viewings of season 1 of Shameless, at least until I can lay my hands on season 2. It is nowhere to be found on Amazon, or anywhere. Why the heck would Great Britain need a DVD player that doesn't play American DVDs, and vice versa? I don't get it.

While we're on the subject of stuff coming out of the UK, I will now provide a link to the most shamelessly brilliant arts-entertainment-celebrity blog devoted (in part) to my new favorite Goonie. Ok, James, you're a Goonie now.

Ok, time for movie and bed. G'night.

knitted things

2008-01-21T12:52:00.001-08:00

I haven't had a post about knitting in a while, although I have a few projects kicking around. This is a hat I started a few weeks ago, made from Joseph Galler pashmina cashmere. I originally thought I would try making this, but after testing out the pattern, I decided it might be more trouble than it's worth.

My other project, not yet begun, is this. I have a work trip at the end of the month, so I'm hoping to get in a fair bit of knitting during the travel time. Yay for new projects.

therapy

2008-01-20T20:55:00.000-08:00

Today I went surfing with my old friend M. near the Cove at Seaside. We hadn't been out in a while. I am no hard core surfer--in fact, seeing me out there in the waves, you might mistake me for some little kid playing in the surf. But that's what is so great about it. Actually, the absolute best part of it, aside from all the zen staring-into-ocean, feeling-sun-on-face, and feeling part of a huge massive, moving thing, is the coffee afterwards.

More pics:

redin. hikin. bein in the countryside.

2008-01-15T17:22:00.000-08:00

There' s big news chez moi. Big news #1: I bought a tv. Who cares, right? Big news #2: I never would have done it if I hadn't been needing to pause, replay, and review frequently my entire collection of James McAvoy-centric DVDs. I now own 2.... and counting: the Becoming Jane DVD release is February 12, and I have had it on pre-order through Amazon for, oh, about 3 months now. Oscar night is February 24. And you have not even seen my Netflix queue.

I have to say, I feel sort of sheepish about the tv purchase, given that I know nothing about the technology, and that I really won't ever watch tv until 2009 when it all goes digital. But it's frickin January. I will not feel bad about wanting to watch a movie now and then, even though I already kind of do. And if I am obsessed with a movie star, that's where I'm at. I totally should not feel bad about it. It's okay to have a crush on a movie star. Really. It is. I can go to therapy later, is how I feel about it right now. But tonight I am gonna curl up and watch a movie.

I don't know what northern soul is

2008-01-10T23:15:00.000-08:00

but I like it.

vendettas, charms, and prayers

2008-01-07T20:37:00.001-08:00

Almost not enough energy to post. This week has been a killer adjustment, going back to work after two 4-day weekends in a row. I feel hardly capable of sitting. I have to get up, walk around, then force myself to sit back down. It doesn't help that last week, while dog walking, I pulled one of those tiny muscles in your back where you imagine wings would attach (if you had wings) and so that has rather been the pits.

I don't know what's keeping me going right now, if not thinking about the random little hopeful things that I always fall back on this time of year: the color red, which I always get excited about this time of year, probably due to some drilled-in marketing from Hallmark, looking for that ever-evasive bird, visits to IKEA, where I purchased this over the weekend. This means that I now have T.S. Eliot and Joseph Brodsky back on the shelf, after years of hibernating in boxes, and a stint in my friend T's basement. T. could have charged me inner NE rent for the space, which ain't cheap anymore, but he charged me nothing, and now my books from college are safe and dry and organized by subject and in arms reach.

There is something magical about opening a box of books you haven't looked at for a while. I found all kinds of treasures, including: the business card of an old boyfriend, stuck in the middle of Margaret Atwood's Wilderness Tips, an old handwritten essay exam from a French poetry class I took back in undergrad, and just a feeling, and a flutter of memories attached to each book jacket; where I was when I first bought it, read it, thought the thoughts in it.

My two birding contributions for today are pretty decent: the first, a blue heron, spotted stepping carefully along the rip rap down on the waterfront. I don't have energy to describe him much beyond the his slinky blue-and-white '20s looking headpiece and his dinosaur-resembling feet. I also saw another hummingbird, which I fancy I am getting good at picking out the sound of. But, sadly, no birds at either of the home feeders--suet or black oil sunflower seed--to report.

January and February are rough months for me. I scrape around at the bottom, dredging up memories, and others come without any bidding at all. But it's really weird, that with all the hardpan, exposed feelings that come up for me this time of year, that this is also the time of year when I am most sensitive to things happening in the natural world, birds flitting in the periphery, movements in bushes, small things growing in pavement. I cry a lot this time of year. When I cry, I do not cry like this.

Looking at birds seems like such a wild encounter, a little glimpse, from faraway, of some distant garlandry that I am hardly a part of, but feel better off, knowing it exists. You could never buy the feeling it gives you, and yet it still shimmers, even as a memory.

This poem is from a book of poetry that I found in my box. The book is called Vendettas, Charms, and Prayers, by Pamela Gemin. I highly recommend it, if for no other reason than right now I feel like I need a few or all of the aforementioned. This poem here was my 21-year- old self's favorite. I still like it quite a lot.

To the Doe Last Seen
Running Up the South Exit Ramp
toward Wal*Mart Plaza

Through rearview mirrors
you promise her
the worst is almost over:
fur bristling, ears pricking,
horns honking,
clack of her scattering hooves
on asphalt, delicate lungs
pumped full of diesel exhaust.
In her blown-glass eyes
you read the history of prey,
whole chapters cut loose and let fly
over cloverleaf roads,
pages tearing in the whizzing force
of arrows, bullets, engines.
She's already the star
of somebody's coffee room story.
By lunchtime
she will have been somebody's reason
to kiss and make up,
go back to church,
to reconsider everything;
somebody's chance to breathe deep,
let the last, best breath
of wildness run out in a whistle,
stroking the dented fender
or brushing the scrape
of blue paint from her tail.
And if you weren't already
late for work,
if you could take
just one wild ride again
you'd take it now,
in the wisps
of her velveteen ears,
be the whisper that tells her
Wait
Steady
Now
Go
Run

year of the scrub jay

2008-01-01T20:29:00.000-08:00

This morning I walked out the front door with my bird sensors on. I had in mind a book I read a few years ago, Lyanda Lynn Haupt's Rare Encounters with Ordinary Birds, in particular the chapter called "First Bird". In this chapter, Haupt describes a game that people who are interested in birding will play at the start of the new year: spotting the first bird for the year, that bird becomes your bird, your totem species, your Chinese Zodiac stand-in, your avian blessing, for exactly one year. I owe credit to all this bird-thinking to Born Again Bird Watcher (who introduced me to the concept of the BIGBY, and also has a lovely post on his own First Bird).

When I lived in NE Portland in a rental house last year, hanging a bird feeder at the kitchen window was one of my most rewarding projects. The suet feeder attracted everything from red-shafted Flickers to Townsends Warbelers (which I think is what you see in the photo above, though I can't really be sure) to Ruby Crowned Kinglets and Oregon Juncos. I stood at that kitchen sink captivated by these small winged creatures, wishing I could stand and watch all day. When it comes to bird-watching, I consider myself in the camp of "extremely non-technical but eager to learn". One of my old coworkers is an ornithologist, and I credit his lively, detail-sharp stories of encounters with ordinary birds as the spark that ignited my interest in learning about urban birds. I am an amateur through and through, and I would never get in a car in pursuit of adding a new bird to my list, and wouldn't dream of owning specialized equipment to view them. But I do think bird-watching gives texture to my life that I wouldn't otherwise ever experience. Something like an experience of wilderness, but that's not all.

When I walked outside this morning, into the late morning sun in NW Portland, I heard quite a few birds, but was disappointed that I couldn't spot a single one close enough to identify. They twittered and sung out of eyeshot, high at the treetops. It was on my second dog walk of the day that I heard the rustling and telltale wingflap and screech and picked out the dusty-blue and grey of the Western scrub jay.

One of my Christmas gifts this year was Birds of Oregon. I own a similarly titled illustrated version, but I am liking this one much better because of the clear photographs and the greater variety of species. Consulting the page on scrub jays reveals that my bird of the year caches its food, unwittingly (or wittingly) playing a role in the distribution of future oak and pine trees. Scrub jays are also a species that form a long-term 'pair-bond', and while I only saw one jay this afternoon, if you read my post from yesterday, it seems to make perfect sense.

Haupt, in her book, quotes a famous naturalist, who says, "Every species is a magic well." I conjur up the image of me looking down into a well and seeing my own shimmering reflection on the water. Which is a metaphorical truth that I have only in the last 5 years or so come to understand: it is only by looking outward--at nature--that we can ever begin to understand even the surface of ourselves.

the lovebirds

2007-12-31T22:59:00.001-08:00

Maybe it's fitting that I spent the last full day of 2007 cleaning my apartment. Pulling up the rugs and vacuuming underneath gave me some time to reflect on what a new year could mean. Scrubbing out the sink with baking soda, I realized what I was hoping for: a fresh newness tomorrow. A bright and shiny new beginning.

Ever since I was a kid, I have always felt there is something magical about New Year's Eve. If there are days in your life that move more slowly, where you remember exactly the mundane details, this has to be it for me. On New Year's Eve in 2003, during a similar bout of cleaning, I can remember running downstairs to check the mail, and finding a mix CD from my friend A., along with a lovely mohair knitted scarf. I remember exactly the shirt I was wearing, and the dust on my hands, and the excitement and thrill of that day. It was the day before the big snowstorm of 2004 hit Portland, the day we would wake up to a world all covered in white. My friend C. spent New Year's morning with me, trapped on the west side because of the snow, and we made French toast and bacon and watched as the big flakes collected in drifts on my window. That was the first day of 2004.

Today too, in the middle of cleaning, I ran downstairs and discovered the mailbox held a gift. I was expecting it, but not so soon. I knew what it would be, but not what it would look like. I would like to share this gift with you, because I would like to tell the story of the Lovebirds as I first remember it being told to me.

When I was a kid, my mom told a story about how one day, I would need to find a Raven, and marry him. I spent the first 8 years of my life in a small Alaskan island town, one where you were either Tlingit Indian, (in which case you had an Indian name and a clan, like my mother's side of the family), or you were White. If you were Indian, you most likely lived in public housing project called, simply, "Housing". If you were White, you most likely lived in a split-level house on a hill with a view of the water.

My dad was a white man, with blue eyes and curly hair, and I spent exactly one winter and spring living with him on that hill, with that view of the water, during or just after my parents divorce. I read something recently about how certain birds will "imprint" the shape and texture of their first nest, or their first bird box, and go on to reconstruct it later in their bird lives. Living with my dad those months probably imprinted me with some of the textures I seek out in my life: I remember green things growing inside the house as well as out; eating a fresh vegetable from the garden, the fuzz of a green bean seeming almost prickly in my mouth; the snowcaves we built in the backyard at night, with a flashlight, and the hours spent sitting on the sofa, looking out the picture window across the water, trying to imagine how or when my mom would reappear from her first term at college in another town, on a different island. At that time, I barely had any idea what another island might look like. I had only known one, my own.

The story of the Lovebirds, the Raven and the Eagle, I know now, are the equivalent of an intermarriage rule between families. But then, as a young girl, I remember feeling somewhat of a separation inside myself hearing the story of the Lovebirds. What part of me was Eagle, and where did that part begin and end, and where did the White part of me begin and end? And who was this Raven, and where was he? I can remember even then, the strange thought that somewhere, he was out there, living a parallel life to mine. And if I was somehow hybrid, or not wholly Eagle, this Raven was authentic, and he was whole.

I have not had much exposure to my culture in my adult life. My mom did finish that first term of college, and went on to get a law degree. The tradeoff was that she had to move our family away from the island town, and the result was that I spent most of my growing up amongst White people. It has only been recently, as an adult, that I have had time to reflect on what my heritage means. Today, I have a job where many of my coworkers are Native American, and it's really strange to say it, but going to work every day, I feel a strange kinship with these people, many of whom are from far-flung tribes from the other side of the country. It was with a shock of recognition that I overheard two of my Native American coworkers discussing a quirk of Native American speech. They were laughing at how Native family members never referred to each other with their full given names. The infant in the family is simply "baby", no matter if she is the grandchild or daughter. To this day my brother will rarely use my given name over "sister". A quirk from childhood maybe, but it wasn't until I overhead my coworkers that I realized it was a quirk we shared with an entire culture.

In one of the classes my mom enrolled me in to learn traditional Native American crafts like beading, and making button blankets, I can remember awkwardly beading the outline of an Eagle head onto a piece of felt. But if my own life was colored with the proud orange and white of the Eagle head, one which I could attempt to show with clear outlines, this Raven, this unknown future husband, was not similarly bounded; his existence was dark, unknown. He flew off into the shadows whenever I tried to imagine what he looked like.

My Christmas gift was made by Tlingit artist Gene Chilton. The design depicts the Lovebirds, the Tlingit Raven and Eagle, touching beaks.

I wanted to tell the story of the Lovebirds because I am thankful to have family in my life. The past can be an indistinct place, and it is built up of memories that are overlapping and contradictory, but sometimes even a day spent scrubbing the sink and reflecting on the past can more fully hold the meaning of family and ties than all the holidays combined.

Former selves are a little like my first understanding of the Raven and the Eagle; we don't know and can't know ourselves as others see us, and we don't and can't ever understand even our own selves. But there is a clear path that is marked out by stories being told, and the way in which those stories are told and the way they are heard by the listener is a way of telling the future. I haven't yet found the Raven. I hope all of you out there who haven't yet found your lovebird, find him.

Happy New Year, everyone.

projects, plans, and a movie-star obsession

2007-12-30T13:13:00.000-08:00

This is the new bird feeder that I am hoping will bring new little feathered friends to my window. I can't vouch for it not falling off the window yet, but for $6.99 at Fred Meyer, you can't beat the price. Black oil sunflower seeds are a versatile bird food favorite, and now in the winter is when they need it most. This is all a part of one of my new year's resolutions, discussed here. I am going for the Walking Bigby, seeing as I spend so much time walking anyway.

Sunday afternoons at home have to be my favorite time of the week. I have time to think about and actually execute things that are only peripheral conjurings as I sit in my cube at work all week. And it's nice to actually have time to do stuff now that the holidays are over.

On that front, I have all kinds of projects cooking. In my last post you saw a wonderful pair of knitted fingerless gloves, modeled by my friend K., whose mom knit them for her. I would love to make a similar pair, but I have yet to find the right yarn or pattern. I would also like to make a new pair of pajama bottoms, maybe out of a fabric like this. Pajama bottoms are probably the most lived in item of clothing I own. I actually can't sleep without them, and I am always on a quest to match the comfort of my oldest, softest pair. I'd also like to add a pair of flannel sheets to cupboard this winter; it's been a long time since I've slept in flannel sheets.

Other plans for the rest of my luxurious 4-day weekend include finishing the book I started over Christmas break, watching another episode of the BBC's Shameless, my latest in a long string of James McAvoy-centric DVD rentals. I am aware that a movie-star crush is not exactly age-appropriate behavior for someone about to turn 33. But this actor chooses really interesting films, many with themes about social class and the attempt to move beyond them. And ok, it doesn't hurt that this guy is so well spoken. And that little smirk I could watch all day.

thoughts on a new year

2007-12-30T00:06:00.001-08:00

So a new year is almost here, and I am really looking forward to it. I just can't help being excited about it. I always feel like it's a chance to reflect on what kind of a life I want to make for myself. Books I want to read, places I want to see, pictures I want to take, people I hope to meet. None are decided yet, only imagined. 2008, here we come.

loll about Christmas

2007-12-26T21:02:00.000-08:00

This Christmas had to be the mellowest ever, spent with my family in Astoria.

I did quite a bit of lolling about places, which is what I like best and never have time to do here in Portland. I lolled at the Fort George on Christmas eve until about 5 pm, drinking my pint of Cranberry Peppermint Wheat and waiting for D. to get off his shift. I lolled at the Astoria Coffeehouse the day previous, where we played a cutthroat game of Scrabble. I lolled about in Cannon Beach as well, where the tide was so high it lapped at the retaining wall in town. A bit further down the beach, it looked like this. But my favorite discovery of the day was this frothy stuff below; like a giant bottle of bubbles had leaked out all over the beach.

Back in Portland, I got home just in time to catch the last of the snowstorm on Christmas day. Walking G. down NW 21st, I was stunned to discover a bedraggled hummingbird sitting in a tree. He looked wet and tired. Maybe it was that he flew right up to a branch at eye level, and looked at me, that made me think I could see how weary he felt. It reminds me that I haven't yet put up a bird feeder this year, although I've meant to.

Do things like this ever give you melancholy? They do for me. If you're not lolling properly, like above, you're lolling without intention. And then the things you planned to do, but never got around to, they start cropping up in your heart and making you regret. Maybe that is what a New Year in the middle of a dark season is all about. Setting things to rights, after much-bedraggled 1000-heartbeats-a minute flying around.

maine coon christmas

2007-12-25T18:08:00.001-08:00

This is Dirty Harry, the cat with the worst name ever. He lives at my brother's house, with his sister cat, Angel Love. Actually Angel Love might have the worst name ever. I can't decide.

Merry Christmas!

Day 2, G9

2007-12-19T20:30:00.000-08:00

There is a new G. at my house. There is G., the dog, my constant companion, my sweet furry headed friend, and now, there is G9, the new image-stabilized, black-and-boxy like the camera I used in high school, heavy like a tank, NEW CAMERA! I don't even really know how to use it yet, but pictures I would have had no contest against with using old camera are coming out much more true to life. Low light shots are just so much more possible. I just can't believe how much I love a manual ISO. And I love that this camera will be one I can grow into, skills-wise. It's not a digital SLR, but it has lots more manual settings than your typical point and shoot. If you'd like to read more about this camera, you can look here. There are all kinds of mysterious dials and settings to figure out on this camera. I still have lots to learn. But the little G9 owner's manual is now on my bed stand.

G., the dog, is not at all impressed with this camera. He isn't impressed with anything that sucks my attention away from him. And I haven't even had the chance to use the camera in natural light yet. I do know that walking around at night, in the howling wind, with a dog, and carrying a camera, is not the easiest of feats. The above shots I took on NW 23rd. The G9 definitely passes the portability test. It's a bulge in my North Face puffy jacket, but it fits in there!

This picture, I am amazed to report, I took in my kitchen with no flash whatsoever. Incredible. I could never have captured this before. Anyone who has pets knows how hard it is to get their cute little faces in focus, because they move around so much. There is the issue of "noise" when you crank up the ISO, but if it's a choice between noise and no picture at all, I'll choose noise. I may even be using the ISO in a non-optimal way, too. I just know that the difference between the high ISO setting and AUTO means I get the shot, or I don't.

I will report back on the other features as I get more used to using them. Seriously, though, this camera is one of those toys that totally transforms your outlook for a while. Like, before, that was pre-G9. Today, well today is Day 2, G9.

Yann Tiersen - La Noyee (solo)

2007-12-17T23:36:00.001-08:00

When I can't say what I want to say, I listen to this.

This sweater vest is not my boyfriend

2007-12-10T21:50:00.000-08:00

Non-knitters who read my blog, you might want to click away. Still there, huh? Well, I told you I am a geek about knitting. This is the finished product. It was the best self-portrait I could muster with the Canon, taken at the highest resolution on the gloomiest Sunday in Oregon. The back view there is to show you how the collar is still doing wonky things. I am considering a small brown button there, in the middle of the collar, to tack it in place. It occurred to me to stitch the whole collar down, because it is QUITE a collar, but that just seems too weird. Anyway. You can almost see at the bottom there how it cuts in nicely at lower back and has this really nice drapey quality to it.

Here is how the front looks. Original pattern picture here. Tragic bobbly sleeves, here.

As you can see, my one major modification was to decide to lay the sleeves to rest, RIP. They were just too, too. I did knit them. I did spend HOURS on them. But in the end, I just couldn't go through with it. Me and the sleeves broke up.

And you know what? Without those sleeves, I begin to comprehend my soul a little better. I have gotten to know myself again. Like, why would I want that arm candy anyway? This sweater vest is way nicer without them. It is the color of chocolate. It's snuggly and nuzzly. And best of all, it gives me room to breathe.

fantasy fourneau

2007-12-09T17:48:00.000-08:00

OMG. I had to show this to you, because this is truly the kind of advertisement that gets me all riled up about houses, domesticity, feeling inadequate about the stuff we don't own. I LOVE this chocolate brown AGA stove. I would love to own this $15,000 piece of equipment. Why didn't I buy one of these instead of a car, anyway?

When I saw this advertisement in the British edition of Living, Etc. magazine, I just had to buy the whole magazine and take it home with me. What I wanted to know was, why does this advertisement irk me so much? Is it because I will never be able to choose the paint color of my rustic-looking stove? Is it because I will never be curling up in my bare feet in front of my electric economy extra-narrow stove, to read the newspaper, or cuddle with my puppy? I have since seen some gorgeous photos of this same style of stove, and it's true--dogs love to sit in front of these things.

Or maybe it's the tagline, "At home with Aga," which implies that 1. AGA, the company, is really a quite fetching female companion, and 2. if you don't have Aga, the stove, you can't really feel at home, now can you? I don't know why this bothers me so much. But I read that AGA is now marketing these stoves for people who live in condos, in cities. Even though the stove's primary market live in British country estates and probably had to shore up their floor joists, there is now a market among condo-dwellers.

If any of this object-love interests you, you can read a great article about home and hearth envy here.

Anyway. This is advertising. Fantasy. I don't have an Aga. But I am at home and I can feel that way without a new stove.

small pleasures

2007-12-09T14:28:00.001-08:00

So the sweater I've been toiling away on is finally done. I don't have any good pictures of it yet, but here's a little peek. The thing is, the sweater arms turned out to be a disaster. So I took a deep breath and turned the whole thing into a sweater vest. And I love it. I can wear cute long underwear shirts underneath, and it leaves my arms free, which is great because I am almost always overheated from bike-riding or dog-walking or what have you.

So next week is exciting because I am going to actually order the much-awaited new camera. I have the one I want all picked out, and I've had it bookmarked for weeks. Almost every day I go online to read up about the reviews or flip through slide shows of the product specs. I am turning into a big geek about it. My biggest piece of advice for you if you are in the market for a new camera is to buy a camera with at least one flat end. A flat end is key to taking decent macro pictures. This is the one thing I don't like about my old Canon Digital Elph. It's a lovely camera otherwise, for only 3.2 megapixels, but the fact that it doesn't have a flat end means you can't set it on a flat surface and get a still shot in low light, because the camera tips over. With the new optical image stabilization of my new camera, I'm hoping this will be less of an issue.

I promise more pics of the sweater taken with new shiny black camera soon.

bougie love

2007-12-08T17:44:00.000-08:00

I never need an excuse to burn candles, but tonight's special. I am safe in my home, I don't have the plague, and even though I'm not here, drinking du vin chaud a la cannelle, I am happy and glad to be alive.

wish list

2007-12-03T12:07:00.001-08:00

Okay. It's been raining for, oh, about 72 hours straight. The windstorm never really got as bad (by my standards) as they were predicting. Maybe it's just that I live in a courtyard style apartment that's sheltered from the big gusts. (Or in a cave. Apparently I ought to read the news once in a while).

The weather I am not minding so much, but the stomach flu I picked up from somewhere is giving me trouble. Last night I was sincerely considering setting up a little bed for myself on the floor of the bathroom. Now I am at home, sipping on my coffee and G. is contentedly licking the contents of his peanut butter bone. The worst part of being sick is having no energy, and having to sit in the midst of all of your undone chores. I think if I could be sick at someone else's house I would be a very happy camper. A guest room somewhere, with a stack of books and some knitting. One of those little trays for eating breakfast in bed. And some small pets, maybe a kitten or puppy or both, to warm up my feet. And a nice window to look out of. Being sick would just be like taking a mandatory break.

Alright, things are not so bad here I suppose. I do have a nice internet connection and a whole day of lounging about in my pajamas and a big wet dog to follow me around. I guess it's time for a wish list, but really it's just because I'm bored and stuck at home.

Oh, wait! Before I go into the list, I wanted to point out the picture above, and remind you that if you didn't know it, December 8-12 is la fête des lumières, one of those place-specific holidays that originated in Lyon, France. I am reviving it this year for myself, because there is so much satisfaction in it. Here's how it goes: back in the 1600s the city of Lyon was ravaged by the plague. Since then, the people of Lyon have paid homage to the virgin mary for protecting them from the illness by setting up little altars in their windowsills.

These days in Lyon, the light shows verge on the Disney-esque, with all the churches and bridges lit up with spectacular special effects. But it all started with a few votives in the windows of regular people, and that is the tradition that I find so lovely and endearing. While Christmas lights can be a little jarring--even a little aggressive, this early in the season, there is something so simple and sweet about a few candles on your windowsill. Mine are red. I'll be back to show you more pictures next week.

Okay, the list. It's more than a list, really, because I'm gonna show you where I found each of these things. Some of these places on the internets are my favorite places to visit, so enjoy!

1. Marcovaldo: or, the Seasons in the City, by Italo Calvino. Author discovered via Keri Smith's blog, Wishjar, which was brought to my attention via my friend A.'s blog, Annemone.

2. A new digital camera, so that I can take lovely pictures. Maybe one day I'll have it down pat, like Alicia over at Posie Gets Cosy.

3. Appreciation for my small living space, and more photography and design and knitting inspiration from Brooklyn-based Fig and Plum. (Fig's Wish List was also inspiration for my Wish List...).

4. More street smarts and stylish sensibility and beautiful photos, found over at The Sartorialist.

5. Even more appreciation for photography (there's a theme developing here), this time of beautiful landscapes and the French countryside, chez à la recherche de l'Absolu...

6. A new cardigan wool sweater. From online prepster store. Just because.

7. Sporty athleticism, even in winter. Especially in winter. Found at Meg's Blog.

8. Pictures of anything, everything, occurring almost anywhere. One of my favorite things to do is search by subject. That way you can find everyone's photos of the first snowstorm in Portland. Flickr. Flickr. Flickr.

9. The ability to see, and to observe, and take joy in, things close at hand. Reminders frequently posted at Born Again Bird Watcher.

10. End of war. End of war. End of war. I wish there were a link to this.