I just made a wonderful discovery. I was one of the first five people to comment on a recent entry on a blog I enjoy, and for that I will be mailed a special handmade gift...if I promise to make the same offer to readers of my new little blog. This reminds me of a possibly failed Facebook project I saw a little while ago. This time, the promise of a handmade goody arriving at my house is enough to prompt me to offer some goodies to you!
Here are the rules:
1. The first 5 people to post comments on this entry will receive a handmade gift from me.
2. I will tentatively say that this gift will be a handbound book. If you are specifically opposed to this gift, let me know and I'll come up with something else.
3. I will make and mail this gift within 6 months.
4. Please email me with a couple favorite things: colors, objects, animals, seasons, textures, etc. Also include your mailing address!
5. I don't anticipate complaints about a free present, so I won't add any disclaimer on that topic.
6. If you are one of the first 5 to comment, please repost this offer (with your own rules) on your blog so you can make gifts for others. If you don't have a blog, please find another way to bestow a surprise on a friend or stranger.
That's it. I look forward to hearing from 5 lucky winners!
4.29.2009
4.27.2009
alpaca
It sure is hard to remember what I did this weekend. The internet was down, or just so slow as to be down in essence, so that component of my life was stalled. I couldn't update, couldn't see the updates of others, couldn't track my actions.
Here is what I do remember. Yumm Bowl. A new restaurant, Cafe Yumm, opened recently, a block away from our apartment. The cuisine is a strange melding of many culinary themes and my dish of choice is a tasty vegetarian mashup that includes brown rice, a rich tomato stew with zucchini and corn, cheese, avocado, black olives and a curious pale yellow sauce with a lemon tang. Jesse ordered BBQ tofu on a skewer. The tofu was cooked in my favorite way, chewy on the outside and airy and egg-like on the inside. I must figure out how to accomplish that technique at home.
Helvetia Tavern with their renowned burgers drenched in 1000 Island and their ceiling covered in baseball caps. I inadvertently took photographs of the Roloff farm. I imagined living out there, in the serene outskirts of the county, where the drizzly rain seems more tolerable and a variety of farm animals dot the landscape. It seems as though creativity would come naturally out there. I'd like to make a cozy workshop in a corner of an old barn where you need to wear big sweaters and rubber boots to stay warm and dry. And owls watch you work from the eaves.
Here is what I do remember. Yumm Bowl. A new restaurant, Cafe Yumm, opened recently, a block away from our apartment. The cuisine is a strange melding of many culinary themes and my dish of choice is a tasty vegetarian mashup that includes brown rice, a rich tomato stew with zucchini and corn, cheese, avocado, black olives and a curious pale yellow sauce with a lemon tang. Jesse ordered BBQ tofu on a skewer. The tofu was cooked in my favorite way, chewy on the outside and airy and egg-like on the inside. I must figure out how to accomplish that technique at home.
Helvetia Tavern with their renowned burgers drenched in 1000 Island and their ceiling covered in baseball caps. I inadvertently took photographs of the Roloff farm. I imagined living out there, in the serene outskirts of the county, where the drizzly rain seems more tolerable and a variety of farm animals dot the landscape. It seems as though creativity would come naturally out there. I'd like to make a cozy workshop in a corner of an old barn where you need to wear big sweaters and rubber boots to stay warm and dry. And owls watch you work from the eaves.
We registered at REI on Saturday, hoping that we might be able to secure all the necessary camping tools. The lady who helped us set up the registry was extremely excited about our impending vows and just about fell on the floor when she saw my ring. People really like to hear about weddings.
4.23.2009
potato leek
The grand plan I developed for my evening while still at work seemed much less appealing as I rode the MAX home from work and the steady, smooth movement of the train over the tracks moved me toward sleep. I had intended on going to SCRAP (Portland’s “Creative Reuse Center”), Collage (one of my favorite local art supply stores) and the recently-opened Grilled Cheese Grill (http://www.grilledcheesegrill.com/).
After dropping Jesse off at work, I went home to grab my camera and had to fight the urge to change into pajamas and fall asleep on the couch. My head was pounding from lack of coffee, but I tried to adhere to the notion that getting out and doing something out of the ordinary would be beneficial.
SCRAP had mysteriously moved since the last time I visited, but I found it without too much difficulty. The place is open, cool and dim, full of buckets and bins and tubs of rubber bands, corks, greeting cards, photographs, postcards, file folders, bubble wrap, carpet samples and zippers. The possibilities are overwhelming, but my creativity needs a bit of improvement before I will be able to stock up on random gizmos and make something attractive or useful out of them. Their stock is constantly changing as donors drop off bags of the most random, seemingly useless objects you’ll ever see. The most interesting things I found this time were huge rolls (four feet tall?) of heavy-duty, plastic/paper with hologram designs in bright colors. I only left with what I had come for: 5 durable cardboard shipping tubes, which I’ll use to protect my bookmaking papers, which keep getting smashed up in my closet.
I drove over to Collage and was greeted by a friendly, yet vaguely imposing homeless man before I could slip inside the store. He started to give me an animated, rehearsed speech about the one dollar he needed for bus fare in order to get to the shelter that had reduced their bed price from four dollars to two dollars, TWO dollars, for the most worthy homeless people. Unfortunately, I had spent my entire $1.25 in change on those handy tubes.
I picked up a couple things for a friend and upon leaving the store, thought for several seconds that my car had been stolen. I thought the man who had spoken to me had found another way of reaching his destination. In actuality, I had just parked much further away than I realized. I drove towards the big painted school bus at Alberta & 11th that houses the seating for the Grilled Cheese Grill when I realized, to my disappointment, that grilled cheese didn’t even sound appetizing. Let down.
The day was so, so gray, the wind too brisk and chilly. Though venturing out hadn’t been awful, I needed to go home. I grabbed some soup on the way, something to warm me up and sooth my spirit. It helped.
After dropping Jesse off at work, I went home to grab my camera and had to fight the urge to change into pajamas and fall asleep on the couch. My head was pounding from lack of coffee, but I tried to adhere to the notion that getting out and doing something out of the ordinary would be beneficial.
SCRAP had mysteriously moved since the last time I visited, but I found it without too much difficulty. The place is open, cool and dim, full of buckets and bins and tubs of rubber bands, corks, greeting cards, photographs, postcards, file folders, bubble wrap, carpet samples and zippers. The possibilities are overwhelming, but my creativity needs a bit of improvement before I will be able to stock up on random gizmos and make something attractive or useful out of them. Their stock is constantly changing as donors drop off bags of the most random, seemingly useless objects you’ll ever see. The most interesting things I found this time were huge rolls (four feet tall?) of heavy-duty, plastic/paper with hologram designs in bright colors. I only left with what I had come for: 5 durable cardboard shipping tubes, which I’ll use to protect my bookmaking papers, which keep getting smashed up in my closet.
I drove over to Collage and was greeted by a friendly, yet vaguely imposing homeless man before I could slip inside the store. He started to give me an animated, rehearsed speech about the one dollar he needed for bus fare in order to get to the shelter that had reduced their bed price from four dollars to two dollars, TWO dollars, for the most worthy homeless people. Unfortunately, I had spent my entire $1.25 in change on those handy tubes.
I picked up a couple things for a friend and upon leaving the store, thought for several seconds that my car had been stolen. I thought the man who had spoken to me had found another way of reaching his destination. In actuality, I had just parked much further away than I realized. I drove towards the big painted school bus at Alberta & 11th that houses the seating for the Grilled Cheese Grill when I realized, to my disappointment, that grilled cheese didn’t even sound appetizing. Let down.
The day was so, so gray, the wind too brisk and chilly. Though venturing out hadn’t been awful, I needed to go home. I grabbed some soup on the way, something to warm me up and sooth my spirit. It helped.
4.21.2009
gusta
After work I went in search of three mystery gravestones. Requests for photographs of these headstones were submitted at http://www.findagrave.com/, a website I had joined several months ago, at the suggestion of my genealogically minded mother.
I had spoken to a cemetery employee around 12:00pm, confirming the row and plot numbers of the sites I was looking for. The woman told me a map could be found just inside the chapel on the cemetery grounds. I got home from work by 6:00pm and packed up my camera, heading to the nearby hills to the tiny Jewish graveyard tucked in the midst of quiet residential neighborhoods. The sun was threatening to fall behind the rows of tall evergreens, so I knew I had to locate and photograph the three stones quickly.
As I approached the chapel, I immediately saw a small sign listing the building's hours. It had closed at 3:30pm. I paced up and down the aisles of headstones for several minutes, eventually spotting diminutive plaques embedded in the healthy grass. Row letters. Thank goodness. I easily found the first two names on a shared gravestone with classic, decorative script. I had more trouble finding the last stone, though, and I walked up and down the row I thought for sure was the one I wanted.
I was reminded of living in Rochester, NY as a kid and walking around the beautiful and serene Mount Hope Cemetery (where I hope to be buried, but it seems unfeasible) with my mother. We were looking for the grave site of a long-dead, distant relative, but despite having the necessary information and knowing the approximate location, we couldn't find it. I noticed a little squirrel running around through the headstones and my eyes followed him. After a little while he climbed up on top of a headstone and turned to look at me. I read the name on the stone and, of course, it was the one we were searching for.
At the Neveh Zedek Cemetery, however, there seemed only to be insects and the occasional bird calling from above.
After what seemed like quite a while, I found what I was looking for, in a sense. The last grave was marked only by a flimsy temporary marker, though the deceased had passed away in 2008. I cleared the site of leaves and shriveled pine cones and pressed disturbed clumps of dirt back into place before taking several photographs. I hoped that the man requesting the photo wasn't too close a relative, but I knew that he would be.
I had spoken to a cemetery employee around 12:00pm, confirming the row and plot numbers of the sites I was looking for. The woman told me a map could be found just inside the chapel on the cemetery grounds. I got home from work by 6:00pm and packed up my camera, heading to the nearby hills to the tiny Jewish graveyard tucked in the midst of quiet residential neighborhoods. The sun was threatening to fall behind the rows of tall evergreens, so I knew I had to locate and photograph the three stones quickly.
As I approached the chapel, I immediately saw a small sign listing the building's hours. It had closed at 3:30pm. I paced up and down the aisles of headstones for several minutes, eventually spotting diminutive plaques embedded in the healthy grass. Row letters. Thank goodness. I easily found the first two names on a shared gravestone with classic, decorative script. I had more trouble finding the last stone, though, and I walked up and down the row I thought for sure was the one I wanted.
I was reminded of living in Rochester, NY as a kid and walking around the beautiful and serene Mount Hope Cemetery (where I hope to be buried, but it seems unfeasible) with my mother. We were looking for the grave site of a long-dead, distant relative, but despite having the necessary information and knowing the approximate location, we couldn't find it. I noticed a little squirrel running around through the headstones and my eyes followed him. After a little while he climbed up on top of a headstone and turned to look at me. I read the name on the stone and, of course, it was the one we were searching for.
At the Neveh Zedek Cemetery, however, there seemed only to be insects and the occasional bird calling from above.
walnut tree
9:30am is way too early for spinning class at the gym. Jesse managed to wake me with his shuffling shortly after 9:00am, and we opted for a regular outdoor bike ride instead, since the weather was so nice. We decided to ride toward the Beaverton Farmers' Market to get a snack in preparation for the 2:00pm BBQ at Marquise and Maria's house. Meandering through the streets of town at a more relaxed speed than Jesse's usual break-neck pace was nice. Unfortunately, the Market was nowhere to be seen when we arrived at its usual location next to the city library. Nonetheless, we had started the day pleasantly early and were able to pick up the necessary cases of beer with plenty of time before the party began.
Maria's friend, Jaime, was in town for a long weekend and the two of them worked feverishly in the kitchen while allowing me to talk about my job and sip pina coladas. The gentlemen coordinated on the actual BBQing and I ended up having a cheeseburger, hot dog and chicken over the course of 4 hours. Not to mention the dreamy array of grilled vegetables. The afternoon was incredibly relaxing and warm and for once I got in trouble for being too affectionate in public. Hm.
Maria's friend, Jaime, was in town for a long weekend and the two of them worked feverishly in the kitchen while allowing me to talk about my job and sip pina coladas. The gentlemen coordinated on the actual BBQing and I ended up having a cheeseburger, hot dog and chicken over the course of 4 hours. Not to mention the dreamy array of grilled vegetables. The afternoon was incredibly relaxing and warm and for once I got in trouble for being too affectionate in public. Hm.
4.20.2009
celebrity
Eat Mobile 2008 was a bust last April. We got off at the correct MAX station on the east side and the location of the festival, which I expected to be somewhat apparent, became a complete mystery that was never solved. After walking around the gritty, imposing blocks of one of the industrial parts of town, frustration growing and tempers growing short, I think we may have just gotten back on the MAX and headed home.
This year, however, we were ultra-prepared. Both Jesse and I independently secured directions and location markers before departing for the city. We picked up Danny along the way, who was lazily trailing the Yellow Line train we needed to hop on as he smoked a cigarette. To launch a weekend of punctual arrivals, we landed at the Disjecta art space, in the shadow of a giant Paul Bunyan, with time to spare. After a brief rumble/protest over the rampant line-cutting going on, we entered Roach Coach Heaven.
The lines were long, but the food and drink delicious. We sampled German sausage, veggie tamales, cookies, BBQ chicken and coleslaw, Czech food, 4 kinds of grilled cheese sandwiches, waffles, coffee, beer and vintage-inspired cocktails. Jesse's and Danny's votes went to the Czech goulash, while I went for the sausage and maple butter waffle. I keep finding myself dreaming of those grilled cheeses though... We particularly enjoyed the two dogs walking around without owners, who Jesse suggested had been
After reaching the point where additional food consumption was absolutely impossible (I couldn't fit a single bite of Italian street food or falafel), we headed back downtown to my new favorite bar, Kelly's Olympian. The place is neither Irish or Greek-inspired, instead soothing neon signs and motorcycles adorn the walls and ceiling. The first highlight was seeing two raincoat-clad, hairsprayed 40-somethings who strutted into the bar like it was a red carpet music awards event.
McKenzie and her folks showed up after several beers and several onion rings had been consumed. Our time with them (with her) was immensely too short, but we now have a long July visit to look forward to.
This year, however, we were ultra-prepared. Both Jesse and I independently secured directions and location markers before departing for the city. We picked up Danny along the way, who was lazily trailing the Yellow Line train we needed to hop on as he smoked a cigarette. To launch a weekend of punctual arrivals, we landed at the Disjecta art space, in the shadow of a giant Paul Bunyan, with time to spare. After a brief rumble/protest over the rampant line-cutting going on, we entered Roach Coach Heaven.
The lines were long, but the food and drink delicious. We sampled German sausage, veggie tamales, cookies, BBQ chicken and coleslaw, Czech food, 4 kinds of grilled cheese sandwiches, waffles, coffee, beer and vintage-inspired cocktails. Jesse's and Danny's votes went to the Czech goulash, while I went for the sausage and maple butter waffle. I keep finding myself dreaming of those grilled cheeses though... We particularly enjoyed the two dogs walking around without owners, who Jesse suggested had been hired to clean the floors at the venue.
After reaching the point where additional food consumption was absolutely impossible (I couldn't fit a single bite of Italian street food or falafel), we headed back downtown to my new favorite bar, Kelly's Olympian. The place is neither Irish or Greek-inspired, instead soothing neon signs and motorcycles adorn the walls and ceiling. The first highlight was seeing two raincoat-clad, hairsprayed 40-somethings who strutted into the bar like it was a red carpet music awards event.
McKenzie and her folks showed up after several beers and several onion rings had been consumed. Our time with them (with her) was immensely too short, but we now have a long July visit to look forward to.
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