Thursday, November 18, 2010

What would you know about Cee Lo? Cause you're like 40.

As I'm about to turn like 40 this week, I found this scene especially fun.
Go Gwyneth.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Painted by Hand

There, 2010

The city was silent in the distance. Each building oddly outlined in white. The sky a vacuous black. Stars formed thick amoeba-like clusters, none stood alone. It was time to go. I drove through the deep night and emerged on the other side, continuing until the roads grew narrow and all of the signs were painted by hand. I made my own shoulder, as large as the road, so others could pass, and continued on foot. I discovered a bed made of pine with a mattress of fallen leaves bound by a white cotton quilt. My pillow, it did feel it was mine, was crisp and clean and scattered with wild strawberry cross stitch. Beside the bed stood the stump of a tree, on it a hollowed apple filled with fresh cider. It fit my palms perfectly. I lifted it to my lips. I slept until I woke, unsure if hours or days had passed. My apple was full, again. I sat up and sipped, looking out the lace curtains and across the prairie, prepared for the unknown.


possibilities, 2010

Can a plant grow too many roots?
What if I don't anchor these roots into soil?
Will they spiral out of control?
Am I really seeking the answer to another question?

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

And the winner is (drum roll...)

got it, 2010

Someone in Norway is going to be sporting some Brooklyn Tweed SHELTER this winter. Anne Marie from Life in Yonder, you are the chosen one.

Per Anne Marie's request, I will surprise her with one of her two color choices (Homemade Jam or Soot). I'll be visiting Bainbridge Island and making the big decision soon.

I'm sending a big thank you to all of you who joined in on the fun with your kind comments. You make me smile.

Congrats Anne Marie!

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Summertime Olives

Fresh & Bitter, 2010

A friend of a friend has a grandfather who is a farmer and now this mountain of olives is mine. Beautiful fat green California olives grown on trees that have been around for 125 years. It's all very grand. They were delivered to me last night. I've been looking at them today, for a while now. I'm feeling a little intimidated.

I've done some research. This gentleman says Brine-curing is stupid easy, but takes FOREVER. Somehow this appeals to me. The intimidation is fading. This is the path I will follow.

It seems we are entering a long-term relationship. We'll begin today, but they won't be ready until June or July. I bought a nice large glass jar. I have a box of salt. All I need is some white wine vinegar. The Moroccan spices will be added later...

I'm going to have my own homemade olives, eventually. This is kind of exciting. Summertime Olives.

Thanks, Susan.

Last chance...

Noro at Trinka's, 2010

Tomorrow I will select the handmade scarf recipient. Would you like to toss your hat into the ring? Do so here.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

as my father does

salt, pepper, egg, 2010

November 2, 2010
5:37 pm

The sky is fading and the sounds of the landscape have shifted. Most of the birds have gone inside. They sit at their small tables, plates of worms before them. Something croaks, a frog or toad, I imagine. I've never known the difference. The clock ticks, loudly. Strong, secure. It will go on long after I've stopped. Tonight, I will eat a hard cooked egg, just as my father does, or as he did, the morning of my wedding. I will pinch salt onto a plate, grind pepper over the salt, and tap my egg into the mixture before each bite. I will eat an apple pulled from the tree just outside my window. The sheep will watch. And I will drink water from a wine glass because the night is special. Later, I will wake and stumble to see stars so strikingly bright I will be afraid to return to sleep. I won't want to let them go.

Monday, November 1, 2010

+issue forty-seven+

I am honored to join a group of such talented and creative individuals.