Monday, September 27, 2010

i now have an etsy. now i need to make/ find more things to sell on it. go me.

Saturday, September 25, 2010

show and tell

it goes as follows: fall garland i made to celebrate that it is officially fall (!) plus sweet, cross-stitched horse from the salvation army, the evolution of a friday night in, delicious cookies i made to drop off at the assumption church tomorrow for Bellingham Community Meals , and lastly, but most lovely, my handsome bird Royal.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

why i want breakfast for dinner

Today, everything

Today, everything happens

at once:

The poached eggs harden

as the bread pops.

The fan stops

as the shower drains.

The sky darkens,

as five crows fly over.

We woke at the same moment

and reached for each other.

It is the synchronicity of today

that I adore:

two mouths opening at once

to taste the benedict,

as it begins to rain.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

more fall crafts and such

sent this brooch and some of my own handmade pumpkins to mom and dad today. lately i just want to light a pumpkin scented candle, watch madmen, and make autumnal crafts. sigh.

this will look good on my mom's florist apron this season. for christmas it will be anything but a poinsettia.

eggplant and fruit flying

so i love my apartment and i love my kitchen but i have about two feet of counter space. check it out. the eggplant alone took up a third of the space. i also am afflicted with this terrible disorder where i get irritable (like, really. poor jordan!) when i am hungry. or as mackenzie, my clever coworker, coined it i get "hangry." i wanted to make eggplant parmesan, because eggplant is my favorite vegetable simply because it is so meaty. in the midst of the process i realized that my kitchen is not only lacking in counter space, but also baking sheets for crisping said eggplant as buried recipe called for. so i made jordan pan fry those patties and now my entire apartment smells like an eggplant fair and the fruit flies love it. i can't stand fruit flies and it reminds me of the time sade and kori and tori and i decided to have a fried chicken potluck at our old ellis street house. the last thing i remember is the swarming of small flies and sade falling off a chair crying. on the other hand though, dinner turned out amazing:

Sunday, September 19, 2010

crafty things

I love danielle thompson's blog, and these cute decorative pumpkins!

my love affair with dorothea grossman: two poems of hers

The Two Times I Loved You the Most In a Car

It was your idea
to park and watch the elephants
swaying among the trees
like royalty
at that make-believe safari
near Laguna.
I didn’t know anything that big
could be so quiet.

And once, you stopped
on a dark desert road
to show me the stars
climbing over each other
like insects
like an orchestra
thrashing its way
through time itself
I never saw light that way

It is not so much that I miss you

It is not so much that I miss you
as the remembering
which I suppose is a form of missing
except more positive,
like the time of the blackout
when fear was my first response
followed by love of the dark.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

since this poem is blue the next will be yellow

The Hours of Myself and Your Memory

For my grandmother

With him gone all day at work,

and your things everywhere,

in the new apartment I am more

alone than I have been in years.

Your quilt over the back of your couch,

your embroidered cloths in the kitchen,

your linens, your jewelry, your broom.

Your dustpan even.

I hung one of grandpa’s photos

of you in the entryway. There you are!

Trim, in black, a fish in one hand,

your face straight, unreadable, queer.

In another room, you are a just a girl

with braids on her head, nursing

a badger with a bowl of milk,

the chickens scattered around.

Outside there is music and traffic.

On hot days we went to the ferry docks.

You talked of everyone but yourself

and when I grew up, you seemed old.

We always think we will have time,

of course I didn’t get enough. I got your things.

Alone in the apartment, I sweep

the floors, prepare salad dressings,

wait for the new loneliness to break in,

to fit me like your well worn boots.