Memorial Day 5.28.12

Goofy Girl

In these modern days of doorbuster sales events, sometimes it’s hard to remember that Memorial Day actually serves an important purpose in the year of the American.  The percentage of total population serving in current wars is down to .5% present day, so being alienated from the culture of injury, loss and longing is easy for many people.  Many of us forget that living among us are war veterans who will never receive adequate compensation and care for the emotional and physical injuries they’ve endured.

All we have is our time and our good intentions (since our coffers are bone dry these days), and as the people of our small, Maine hometown came out of the woodwork almost instantaneously this morning for the Memorial Day parade, we listened to the orator of the morning implore civilians to give service in the spirit of those .5% currently serving, or those who have served before, if not for anything but simply the life changing events they have witnessed and taken part in.

We can only hope, then, that our leaders are taking care to keep our men and women safe from harm unless all possible alleys of diplomacy have been tried first.  We can only hope that consumption and greed as a cultural phenomenon of epic proportions in the late 20th and early 21st centuries do not guide elected officials’ wartime whims.  We can only hope that we wouldn’t send our flesh and blood, America’s young minds, across the globe to be wasted on a battlefield in efforts to secure crude resources that, ultimately, have a limited stock.

These hopes may be dashed somewhat easily in a world where water is a sellable commodity, where the last truly justifiable war happened over 50 years ago.  If we ask our soldiers and sailors to make the ultimate sacrifice for us, shouldn’t it be for a just cause and not a staggering, aim-anywhere strike against an adjective or a noun like ‘terror’ or ‘drugs’?

A craft blog, as this probably must mostly look like, is not usually a place for these types of reflections.  But today, looking out over the Memorial Green, dotted with the 50 waving flags (and counting) donated by families of service people killed in action, there really is no place that isn’t appropriate to give our thanks to those who deserve them, and our most severe scrutiny to those in power who wield the fates of men.

Work Doodles

thea’s shower monster, imagined

I’m obviously a professional.  Sharpees, highlighter and a little ingenuity…

Saving for a Home Can Make You Do Crazy Things

I’ll miss you, mustard tiger!

It’s no secret that J. and I are kinda tired of paying rent every month, even though our landlord is a pretty cool guy.  We’re cool, too, and flushing money down the hole every month without building equity is too much.  So last September we started a savings account, and planned on a certain contribution every week which would put us at our down payment goal at the end of three years.  It hasn’t even been one and I’m obviously impatient… so I’m starting to sell awesome things that I love, because I would love it even better if we had a basement and a little yard and no one living below us, even though our neighbors are pretty cool, too.

So up on the Etsy went my favorite mustard yellow bowling bag, circa late 60s early 70s, Escort brand.  I tried to price it fairly, also noting that there was a certain dollar amount I’d have to get in order not to feel sadness (fleeting) shipping it up to go to some other home.  There’s that word again!  Reminding me that even though it’s goin’ to someone else’s it’s contributing to the one I’ll have one day and that’s a-okay.

We still have two years and a couple months to learn, save, plan and worry but it’s not a bad start learning to make some sacrifices in order to reach the real goal!  You can click on the big, pretty picture or here to view the listing in all its humble glory.

Many uses, … AND it looks like a smiling face!

New Tote!

Anna at work gave me a really cool tote bag!  Her friend’s friend makes them, and you can get one, too, at MapTotes.com.  They do have a Portland one, but it’s the other Portland, so I think my favorite is actually the one I have!

We stuffed $30 worth of groceries in to it last night, and I think I’m gonna keep it folded up in my purse so that I can stop bringing a kabillion plastic bags home every year.

Thanks, Anna!

Morning Cup, Revisited

magic beans from cbd (photo by Audrey)

My morning routine for the last two years has taken me off of the peninsula – the downtown amenities like local coffee shops, funky thrift stores on a lunch break, all possible banks within a 1/2 mile walk have been replaced with Dunkin’ Donuts, the mall, and a 10 minute drive to Wal-Mart if I even want a chance of doing any banking on my 45-minute lunch break.  Yipes!  Sorry to say, I’ve grown a little lazy and forgot that better things could exist – I drink whatever dregs off coffee are available at the Mobil Station, stuff maple-glazed donuts from DD in my foodhole while racing down Rt. 22 to work and am not as disturbed by the general 1984-ness of Wal-Mart as I have been in the past.

This morning I stopped in at Coffee By Design on Washington Ave. (across from Silly’s) because I had 5 extra minutes before leaving for work.  It’s literally right up the street from our house.  I was in and out in three minutes, knew the first name of the person behind the counter who was helping me, and the coffee was wicked good.

That’s a serious understatement, because it was so good I thought I should write a whole post about it.  It was so good that it made me remember why I drink my coffee black, even though lately I’ve been eyeing the crusty creamer jug at Starbucks and pondering the risk of asking the DD cashiers for ’1 sugar’ and getting the equivalent of 1 heaping cupful.

Look out, alarm clock, I’m setting you for 5 minutes earlier and I’m going to learn to work this in to my day.

Spring Color: Farmers Market Photographs

All of these are now available for sale in my Etsy shop for $6.50 USD.  $25- if you’d like it framed with white mat and black frame!  Click on the picture to view the listing.

Basil, by Little Eye

Strawberries by Little Eye

Shallots by Little Eye

Oh, Ick: MLK, Jr. + I think I’m gonna be sick:

I opened my email inbox this morning to find an email from the Gap, advertising this sale:

Not O.K.

“Sound the trumpets!  We’re going to celebrate one of the most forefront leaders of the civil rights movement by slashing prices on baby graphic T’s!!”  Yes — absolutely — because what better way to celebrate a man who helped organize the nation to change.

Oh sure, — the man who sacrificed his own safety and eventually his life for the preservation of the safety and the lives of millions of others.

Yep — one of the finest speech writers underlined by his famous “I Have a Dream” speech at the 1963 March on Washington.  Gap has a dream, too, and it’s 1st quarter earnings so who cares if our sale undermines the integrity of American history and heroes?

Boo.  Today’s gonna be a long one.

"..I've been to the mountain top.." (and rest assured, The Gap isn't there selling denim half off)

Home Improvement: Cleaning Up the Attic

Darn it, I know I should have taken some true ‘before’ pictures.  But really, I’m glad I can’t possibly get back to where the attic was before I attacked it with a vacuum and some organization tonight.  Just picture less twinkly lights and more cat fur embedded in the carpet.  Ew.

Music Space

Our apartment is awesome.  The first floor has all the regular living necessities:  kitchen, bathroom, living room, bed room.  But then we get an entire extra floor, the same size as the rest of the apartment, to make art and music in.  Yesss.

Tonight I spent time setting up the music area.  This is about 1/3rd of the total floor space of the attic, the other 2/3rds reserved for my crafting (ay ay ay I can’t get this organized!) and my closet area.  Music was an easy place to start.

keyboards and amps

So now, upstairs, we’ve got a place to make nice sounds.  That seems like a pretty good luxury to me.  If I can get it together again this weekend the next task will be cleaning up the closet/dressing area so that my mornings before work aren’t so hectic.

Then:  the dreaded crafting area.  I think I might actually need a different piece of furniture from what we have to make an actual work area, so this is the biggest challenge because I can never seem to commit to what will be the most functional.

Stay tuned for more improvements, and more pictures!

the rest o' the mess

CATS: Even though it’s horrifying, it’s actually funny.

This is Bath Salts' logo, actually. But it's like what happened this morning.

I’m sorry, I just can’t not share the magic of my Monday morning with you today.

I’m someone who has lived with cats, by choice or not, for a good 24 years out of my total 28 years of life.  Considering the frequency of my exposure to cats, my exposure to gross cat things (i.e. fleas, tape worm, poo-poo, pee-pee, hair balls, dead animals being dragged home… the list goes on…) is pretty remarkably low.

Besides the errant hair ball or the random turd nuggest flung from the litter box in a fit of post-BM cat joy I’ve only had one major incident.  Until now.  Until this morning.

~~~

The year was 2007 and I was living in Watertown, MA with a rather large group of people in half of a house.  There were two cats there (one mine, one belonged to my roommate) and his cat was a major, ornery pain-in-the-whiskers.  She was this massive thing with a big, fat head and not the kind of big cat that is endearing, no — the kind of big cat that laid in wait to attack feet and other kitties just to pass away the fatty fat days until it’s time to go to cat heaven.  She was miserable – and my first introduction to a cat that I ‘didn’t like’ (although secretly I liked her, because for the two or three pats you could get in before she hissed at you she was still a sweet thing.  Sometimes.  Way down deep in there.  Plus I kinda pitied her…)

Anyways – I had just gotten a job at a furniture company in Framingham and I was super excited for my first day.  Not like any other job I’d had (ahem… it wasn’t in food service) I was just super psyched to not have the threat of ketchup stain and espresso machine burns FOR ONCE in my ding dang life.  So the night before my first day I laid out my outfit and hung it on the bedroom doorknob:  an angora sweater and a pretty, shimmery silk skirt that I had just gotten that holiday season.  Simple and understated, yet true to my need to wear comfy fabulous things whenever possible.

So I put the outfit on in the morning, drive the insufferable 10 miles on Route 9 out to Framingham, and spend the first half of the day kinda sniffing around – something wasn’t right.  Was it me?  Was it my new coworkers?  Was it my pits?  When was the last time I washed this sweater?  Pee-ew!  Something was subtly, horribly wrong.

Fast forward:  lunch time.  With more opportunity to investigate I found my skirt, which had been hanging on the doorknob outside of our bedroom all night, had been brutishly DEFILED by this big monster of a cat.  I didn’t even know lady cats sprayed.  I dunno, maybe she was a boy and I just didn’t know it.  In any case, I’d smelled like sickly ammonia cat pee for the first half of the day and would have to suffer it gladly for the second half.

Horrified, embarrassed, but seemingly undetected by my coworkers (it was a pretty subtle smell, surprisingly) I sat in wait until I could get the hell out of there.  P.S. if you are wondering – no, you can’t get cat piss out of silk:  you just have to throw it away.

~~~

Monday, January 2nd 2012:  A stinky start to the New Year.

Last night, I got super excited about seedlings.  It happens sometimes, and rarely at the right time in the year, but this is the closest I’ve been in a long time.  I whipped out the seed collection while JR was out-n-about (I love doing house-y things when I have the run of the place) and gleefully decided what I could start early, without confusing the hell out of the poor little plant.

We have a rocky patio outside that our landlord said we can use – most things will be growing in pots, anyways, so I decided to start my rosemary in two, small terra cotta pots (should be about two bushes by the time September gets here!)  I also started a really nice tray of habañeros and poblano peppers and cilantro.  Whoa!  Was I excited:  a south-of-the-border medley to ensure delicious, fresh salsas all summer long.

With my kitchen table full of promise for the future, I shut the lights and went to bed.

This morning, when I woke up the bed was so super comfy and the blankets and comforter so warm.  I didn’t want to get up!  So I procrastinated a little, set the alarm a couple times, had a really lazy go of it.  When I finally got up I did the usual routine:  teeth, clothes, splash splash, collect random items that migrated from the purse, breakfast.

So I go in the kitchen to get breakfast and while the rosemary pots are in tact, the tray of delicious, spicy salsa is DESTROYED.  My cats have dug in my plants before, usually in the middle of the summer when they’re on the deck and pretty easy to save.  However!  Seedlings that say they need to be 1/4″ from the surface mean exactly that – once a kitty goes digging around in there there’s little hope of that seed doing well.  In attempt to save what one of my cats (I’m pretty sure it was the gray one) obliterated I kind of tried to push the soil back where it was supposed to be, in hopes that maybe the seeds would go back with it.

OH GOD.

Cupped in my hand, within the layers of upturned soil, was a big, steamy CAT TURD.

OH MY GOD, OHMYGOD.

I was TOUCHING IT with my hand.

Apparently when I had laid out the seedling tray (of mouth-watering salsa ingredients) this big dummy thought that I was being a super-nice Cat Mom and putting together an entirely new litter box for the two of them.

He’s all like “Whoa!  You’re putting MINE on the kitchen table, Mom?  I love you so much!  Thank you!  I will poo in it now to show you how much I love it!”

I don’t normally talk to myself at home but I was carrying on big time as I ran over to the sink and began furiously washing my hands:  about 7 times or more.  As the water poured out of the tap, though, and I thought about it my swearing turned in to uncontrollable laughter.  His little feeble cat brain logic was spot-on, it was totally my fault my hands were covered in dookie right now!

So, my salsa seedlings will have to wait.  No big deal.  New Year’s resolution:  swear less, laugh more.  I think next time I’ll put them on top of the fridge…

Another Christmas Wish: L.L. Bean Edition

Ooh, shearling strap liner!

Ha-ha!  Last year I spent the month of December talking about ways you can give (without necessarily spending money).  Hmm!  Full 180 this year, I’m just gonna talk about the things I want, want, WANT.  One of these things, above, is the beautiful and rugged Continental Rucksack from L.L. Bean.  It’s made with waxed canvas and what looks/feels like buffalo leather.  The canvas is really crunchy and the leather is really soft.  It’s got shearling-lined straps, for God’s sake!

While I’m climbing up mountains with my beautiful new backpack I should probably shield myself from the weather with this clearance-priced Black Point Parka from L.L. Bean Signature – what can I say?  I’m a product of my environment.  I think I’ll need a size 8… wink wink.

Those sleeves are totally removable!