holidaze

it's wednesday.
i'm having a cup of tea.
the train whistle is blowing in the background
the music hums.
it is almost Christmas -
the unwrapping of gifts, the red glow of the tree decorations,
bottle after bottle of wine, my mother's laugh,
a puzzle covering the dining table for days,
warm blankets,
snow.

thank you for reminding me

my eyes are melting from the beauty

One of the most beautiful films I've seen in a long, long time.

The Long Winter Road

The first of December. The air is biting. The fog is thick and hovers over the city, adding the weight to our shoulders. The weight of winter. Of the holidays. We sip coffee. Red wine. Whiskey. We make elaborate dinners. Some kind of stew. Or go out to hear our friends play music. We fill the hours, dark past five, with activities to add some light. To lift the heavy blankets. To get us through until Spring.

The Importance of a Friend

...and then he asked her the question no one knows how to answer. "Well then, what would be the perfect job for you?" And so, later, over a glass (or two) of amazing wine at Kir, we discussed it. What would it look like, feel like? How would it be to go to work every day knowing that you were making a difference? Contributing a part of yourself to the world? Do something you believe in? Something you could do that would allow you to answer the question 'what do you do' with pride...all this and still be able to pay your bills and maybe buy that skirt hanging in the window.

And from that topic, we, half buzzed and now fluid, moved along the line of questions that haunt the average twenty-something. What am I doing here (in this town, in this world, with this man, in this skin?) And after answering them the best we could, and playing the Devil's advocate on each others scenarios or declarations, we paid the bill, hugged that long lovely hug that means so much more than just a squeeze, that means I get you, I know how you feel when you are in a room full of people and still feel alone, or when you look up at the stars and feel minute, or gaze across the room at a stranger and wonder if their heart feels empty too. That hug meant thank you. It meant connection. It meant I'm so lucky to have you in my life.

on my nightstand

one of those books that makes it hard to put down and go to work...

i want too much

i feel like a million bucks...wanna feel?

I've been on the edge lately. Assuming I'll get sick any day now.
Not sleeping well. Staying out a little too late on Halloween (it was worth it!).

But yesterday brought all of that to an end. I went to the salon (Burnside Proper). My dear friend Twila pampered me. I ran errands. Got my boots fixed. Bought some new ones. Went grocery shopping after a long, long time of coping with empty fridge syndrome. Went for a run. Cooked myself a pile of veggies. Went to go see Kelly Bauman and then slept like a queen! I feel like a million bucks today!

sunday morning coming down

happy halloween

"Dream tonight of peacock tails,
Diamond fields and spouter whales.
Ills are many, blessings few,
But dreams tonight will shelter you.

Let the vampire's creaking wing
Hide the stars while banshees sing;
Let the ghouls gorge all night long;
Dreams will keep you safe and strong.

Skeletons with poison teeth,
Risen from the world beneath,
Ogre, troll, and loup-garou,
Bloody wraith who looks like you,

Shadow on the window shade,
Harpies in a midnight raid,
Goblins seeking tender prey,
Dreams will chase them all away.

Dreams are like a magic cloak
Woven by the fairy folk,
Covering from top to toe,
Keeping you from winds and woe.

And should the Angel come this night
To fetch your soul away from light,
Cross yourself, and face the wall:
Dreams will help you not at all."

— Thomas Pynchon

is it always going to feel this way?

the wind is running its fingers fiercely through the trees
outside my window and i wonder,
why is it always easier to be honest to a blank page?

Listen to Olsen Olsen by Sigur Ros

Another song to draw your tears

I Remember by Devendra Banhart

Foxfire: Confessions of a Girl Gang

"The strangeness of Time. Not in its passing, which can seem infinite, like a tunnel whose end you can't see, whose beginning you've forgotten, but in the sudden realization that something finite, has passed, and is irretrievable."

Joyce Carol Oates

Thank you for saying it for me...

A review by Carrie Brownstein that says all the things I know and fear:

On Friday, I saw Viv Albertine of The Slits, Softpower (featuring Mary Timony) and The Raincoats play at the Knitting Factory in Brooklyn. How do I feel? Lucky.
As I wrote last week on this blog, The Raincoats influenced nearly every musician that sprang forth from Olympia and countless other similar towns and scenes across the U.S. Needless to say -- or perhaps I do need to say it -- so did The Slits.
So, at the Knitting Factory on Friday, watching not The Raincoats (who were fantastic, by the way) but Viv Albertine, I realized I hadn't really witnessed fearlessness in a long time, at least not at a rock show. As one of my friends put it, more succinctly: "This was one of the punkest things I have ever seen."

If there is a voice in music that's seldom heard, it's that of a middle-aged woman singing about the trappings of motherhood, traditions and marriage. A woman who isn't trying to please or nurture anyone, but who instead illuminates a lifestyle that's so ubiquitous as to be rendered nearly invisible. She places in front of you -- serves you up -- an image of the repressive side of domesticity, the stifling nature of the mundane, and turns every comfort and assumption you hold on its head. It raises questions that no one wants to ask a wife or a mother, particularly one's own. Are you happy? Was I enough? What are you sacrificing, and are those sacrifices worth it? And when someone is brave enough -- honest enough -- to confront the difficulty of it all, the strange, often irreconcilable dichotomy of being a mother and an artist, a woman and an artist (and why should it be a dichotomy?), frankly, it's scary as hell. It makes people uncomfortable. And this sentiment of unease, especially coming from a woman in her 50s, sounds somewhat silly, even juvenile. Why? Because after a certain point, we're supposed to feel settled, or at the very least resigned.

As an audience, we can handle teenage girls and young women singing (sexily, coyly, prettily) about heartache and boys and loss, about unfairness, about redemption and about payback. But when an older woman sings of those same subjects, well, it wrecks everything. And, by that, I mean that we have certain expectations of older artists: They can turn into caricatures of their former selves, be campy or kitschy, sing stories of survival and resilience, and deliver pearls of wisdom. But that's about it. So it's shocking when an older woman gets on stage and basically says: This way of living and of being did not work, and the comfort that we all strive for was barely a comfort for me at all.

Viv Albertine did that. She did it with humor and with guts. And you can bet there were people who didn't get it.

I haven't even mentioned that Albertine's guitar playing is beautiful and unsettling in its strangeness. It's not simple, but rather a distortion of the facile. Sort of like the subjects of her songs.

I'll say it again: I felt lucky to be there.

Seen anything punk in a while?

Songs to make you laugh and cry

Modern Girl by Sleater-Kinney

About Face by Grizzly Bear

Island, IS by Volcano Choir

Darkly Smiling by The Great Society

the great struggle

Help!
I should be working, writing, washing my clothes. Why
am I constantly having this heated argument with my best
self - consciously creating a situation where I slip slowly
into a state of unmotivated malaise?

The real problem is

resting

on the fact

that all I want is to be sitting on the beach
with a pint of ben and jerrys and a glass of bordeaux.

Writing Woes

Feeling things and actually writing them down are completely different realms. Sometimes I read other people's blogs, short stories, novels and think, that's not so hard. I could write that. I think those thoughts all day long. And yet, it is hard. Beyond hard. It is like swimming through sand. What is the right word? How will it come off after it is written down?

Creating is difficult, whatever the medium. It is the translation from what is on the inside to the outside world. And because everyone sees (hears, feels, reads) things differently, it is even more difficult to know whether or not what you have created is being perceived the way you meant for it to be - which, by the way, rarely happens. Not to mention, most of us have conflicting views within us.

So, if someone is trying to convey their opinion of how terrifying marriage is, the same reader could completely agree and, simultaneously, disagree. Therefore, the writer has to either be very convincing with the argument so the reader has no choice but to agree (or at least understand), or vague enough for the reader to interpret in what ever way he/she chooses.

So, all of these thoughts run through my mind before I even set pen to paper, making it nearly impossible to create one intelligible sentence. A teacher I had in the past told me in order to minimize this anxiety, just write. Write a bunch of junk until you hit your rhythm, then keep going. Later, come back and edit. Cut, re-word, and add. Check spelling, grammar, and punctuation.

It all sounds warm and fuzzy, but I can't do it. Can not. The only thing I can do is to keep trying. I guess I'll do it my way. My way is slow and leans very heavily on the "I can't do this" procrastination technique. Perhaps I'll publish when I'm in my 80s....

Madmen yourself

Since we all pretty much pretend we live inside the AMC show Madmen, chain-smoke cigarettes all day long, drink copious amounts of whiskey, and sleep with Don Draper, now with the help of the world wide web, you can put yourslef inside that world. Sort of. Madmen yourself. Go ahead. Try it here.





This was mine.

Hot Chili on a Chilly Day!

Throw a bunch of stuff in the crockpot and let it sit there for the entire day and what do you get? Spicy chili enough to feed two bike racers, one pregnant lady, a guy who has been working on his house for two days and me, a voracious eater. And that's it. No leftovers.

After dinner, C. said to me "I think we should just keep the crockpot out all winter, don't you?" And, he's right. It is the perfect cooking tool for winter meals. Lately, the days have brought cold winds, days of rain, and cold mornings. Even though Fall has just began, Oregonians are already preparing for Winter. It's really all the same to us. Once we have that last warm summer day and the rains come, it doesn't really matter if it's 60 degrees or 40. So, get out your crockpot and warm up!

The End of a Season

Today is October first. It's chilly when I leave the house and rain drops cover the ground and plants from overnight showers. I pull my jacket tighter around me and take in a deep breath of air.

In Portland, welcoming Fall is like coming home from vacation. Back to regular life. When you go away on holiday, there is excitement. Something different. A change in routine. But you are always excited to come home. You are tired. You need your regular sleep and your home cooked meals. Summer = vacation.

For nine months, Portlanders are used to more or less the same weather. Sweaters and long pants. Boots. Scarves and hats. A light rain jacket. We are used to cozy. We drink red wine in low lit bars. We snuggle up with a blanket and read books. We play board games and cook chili. We go to movies, plays, lectures.

There is excitement in the air almost. A return to the world that we know. Summer is over and we put our dresses and sandals in a bag under the bed. We can't tell one another we are excited, because we will think the other has gone mad. Why is he ready for rain? Didn't he appreciate the beautiful sunny days? The mojitos in the park? The barbecues in the back yard? And he did. And you did too. But this is the flight home. We are comfortable in our winter.

Pumpkin carving party anyone?

And it produces!

With the name of my title, I just realized why it must be called produce. Ah-ha!

Anyhow, the garden story continues. I apologize for the two month delay, but my summer job did not allow for the mid-afternoon leisure that my regular job does. And so I'm back, as Gloria Gaynor would shout, and with photos of the garden's progress.

Early spring brought radishes, cilantro, and arugula. Then came early summer with lettuce, beets, peas, collards, chard and oregano. Mid-summer gave us more collards and chard, carrots, cucumbers and broccoli. And at this moment, we have little squash, one nearly ripe tomato, several smaller cucumbers, and one bell pepper. We also still have chard coming up! Some photos:

Pendulum

High then low,
up and down,
black or white.
Day and night,
happy and sad
heaven or hell

In breath, out
top of the world,
then crashing
tip of the iceberg,
all the way in.

Cry or shout.
Just when you think
you can't sleep any longer
the sun will come out -

So you wanna be a bike racer?

I'm not sure if it's because I just don't have enough danger in my life or because I enjoy pain, but I have decided to start a new chapter of my life. The chapter is called Kate, bike racer. Am I good? No. Am I fast? Not really. Am I having fun? Hell yeah!

So, you go out to the Portland International Raceway on Monday nights, slip into something a little more comfortable, i.e. spandex with diaper-thick padding, hop on your bike and go round and round the track as fast as you can, inches away from the wheels in front of and behind you and then when you think you can't go any faster, or any further for that matter, you get to the final straight stretch, stand up out of your saddle, and sprint whatever you have left in your legs across the finish line, slobber streaming across your face.

You probably don't win and even though you're more tired than you've ever been, you wish you could just race for one more lap so you could have a do-over or that the next race wasn't a whole week away, because if you could have just jockeyed for position a second faster you probably could have taken that bitch.

But whatever.

And then the whole ride home you think about how tired you are and how much training you need to do to get better. Anyone want to join me?

Solutions

Let's cut to the chase. I have a Facebook account. Yes, I know. My partner makes fun of me daily. What's more, I have a Facebook app on my iPhone. I'm hooked. I read updates from people I haven't spoken to for ten years and stalk others whose lives are far more or far less interesting than mine. And until now, it hasn't really proved useful with the exception of preventing any of us from having real conversations via phone, or even email. It's the lazy man's conversation tool. A way to stay connected, in the least involved way possible. Hey, at least it's not Twitter.

But that was all up until this; A couple weeks ago, I updated my status to say how sad I was to find little green worms eating my plants in the garden. I very quickly received a status comment from an old friend (again, one I probably would not have connected with had it not been for Facebook) who suggested either Cedar or Neem oil as a worm/bug deterrent. I replied and asked how to apply and she wrote back and told me to follow the directions on the bottle to cut it with water, then either mix in a spray bottle or invest in a pressurized garden pump and coat both sides of the leaves of my plants.

So Chris and I walked down to Pistils Nursery, bought some Neem Oil ($15/8 oz) along with some tomato, cucumber, and pepper starts and came back to the house. The bottle has extensive directions, so we were set from there. We bought a garden pump and mixed the oil with water, waited until evening when the air is cooler and the plants are out of direct sun and applied the mixture to both sides of all our leafy plants. Finito! No more worms! What is Neem Oil, you are probably wondering? According to the bottle, "Neem oil is pressed from the seeds of the Indian Neem tree. Neem oil has been used for centuries by people in India. Neem oil is an excellent foliar plant spray." Cedar oil may have been cheaper but they didn't carry it at the nursery. Plus, you only need to apply Neem oil once every 2-4 weeks, so it will last a long time.

That same weekend, we harvested our first vegetable from our first garden. Radishes! Gloriously colored, crisp, spicy radishes. From seed to table in only 24 days. We pulled them up, washed them and sliced them for our salad.















The next day, we pulled up more, washed, and sliced them and added them to a quinoa salad with carrots, cabbage and zucchini for a healthy summer salad.















Cami came over and brought Vodka. I went to the store and brought home fresh fruit, sparkling water, and vermouth for making cocktails. We blended some ice and shook everything up. We cut a melon, set up a table on the porch and played scrabble. It was the perfect Memorial Day.

Garden Update

Our beautiful garden is growing with just a little water each morning and sun every day for the last two weeks! I have found little green worms on some of the leaves of lettuce, broccoli and chard. My goal is to get rid of them without using chemicals. I will keep you posted on how I accomplish this.

Vacation

The word vacation comes from the Latin word vacare which means to be empty and stems from an Indo-European root eu which means to leave or abandon. Not only are we leaving or abandoning the office, but we are mentally moving out of that head space.

I had no idea I needed a vacation so badly, but now (after being refreshed) I can look back and see all of the reasons why a break was so necessary. The economy is shit, everyone is broke, work is stressful, it has been raining since October and two days off per week just doesn't cut it.

So, I went home "sick" on Thursday afternoon and was ever so "sick" on Friday as we flew to San Francisco. We walked all over the city, seeing Museums, strolling through parks, and basking in the sun. That's right, it was sunny and warm the entire weekend.

We drove up to Napa on Saturday and it was even more glorious there. Warmer and less breezy. We took a picnic and after our first tasting, bought a bottle and drank it on the perfectly manicured lawn, paired with a variety of cheeses and fruits. The dog cooled his belly on the shaded grass. We then toured the beautiful valley, admired the rolling, vine-covered hills, and made a final stop at Mumm, famous for their sparkling wines. A little bubbly to finish off the warm day filled my angsty soul with calm. And the best part? It was only Saturday.

Sunday morning greeted us with yet another sunny, breezy day. We could smell the ocean everywhere we went. We had a nice breakfast in a coffee shop in the Mission before calling our mothers on their day, not daring to tell them we were going to eat ice cream, piled two huge scoops high on top of sugar cones, for lunch and then headed out to explore the Sutro bath ruins and hike along the trails overlooking the bay.

This week, despite how busy I have been, I am completely refreshed, genuinely happier, and ready to take the world on. We should most definitely be given more vacation days throughout the year. We would all be easier to get along with!

Some photos:



Renzo Piano's California Academy of Science



Herzog & de Meuron's de Young Museum



James Turrell's "Three Gems" skyspace installation



Napa Valley



Merryvale Winery



Mumm's Winery



Mitchell's for lunch!



Sutro Bath Ruins



Tunnel at Sutro Baths



No comment necessary

Have stress, will travel

sun, fun, wine, good company.....can't wait!

Garden Sequence

And that, my friends, is how you put dinner on the table!

And then, there was sun......

it really makes a difference.

Garden Bed, Part Two

We let the soil sit for two weeks, turning it every few days. There are more worms in there than when we started, which is a good sign, and I'm sure after a few good rains, there will be many more.

We went to Portland Nursery to buy seeds and mushroom compost. We combed the compost over the top of the soil about half an inch thick and then planted the seeds directly into the compost. It will help with nutrients and act as a mulch. We then diagrammed the beds, sectioning them up and planting seeds according to how much distance each plant needs. The packages give great directions as far as how close to plant the seeds, how far to space the rows, and how deep to push them into the soil.

We planted on a cool, cloudy Saturday morning and a few hours after we were finished, we received a nice, gentle sprinkle. Then, we had sun for a day and rain for three days. I figure those seeds are liking the weather, although personally, I could be happy with more sun.

Most plants will start to come up in a few weeks, at which point we'll have to keep the birds and cats out of the beds. Maybe chicken wire? A screen of some sort? In 40-45 days we will be able to pick the lettuce. Following the lettuce will be carrots, various herbs, radishes, beets, chard, broccoli, collards, cilantro, peas, etc.

In about a month or less, we will plant our summer squash, tomatoes, spinach, green beans, and anything else we start to crave. I will keep you posted.

Just a Taste....

I think I was happy in my dream last night
or was that this morning?
I can't remember
what happy feels like, but it seems
I was light.
no pressure in my shoulders.
I must have been drinking wine or coffee,
but now I'm making that up -
because that is what happy would feel like
awake
and maybe in this alternate reality I create
when I am breathing calmly
fresh sheets snuggled in around me
mind shut off from internal nagging,
happy is cool breezes and lush foliage
playing in moonlit stares,
maybe happy is calm
and I will never get there
awake.

Am I allowed to be obsessed?

Uh huh........