Pretty Food

Evan found an easy sourdough recipe (masquerading as a weird, homespun horror film) for the starter that his parents sent us from Alaska. It has us baking up a storm-- Evan doing most of the baking and me providing the storm (aka mad chopping and ingredient acquisition).


Fresh rosemary and garlic cloves... Blue cheese and walnuts... The possibilities are endless (and all so tasty and good looking)!


And then there's King Kale (an apt nickname). I am craving the stuff like it's goin' outta style! Although I have to admit to consuming a grand total of three jars of ramen yesterday, my cravings are slowing shifting away from pasta and sugar.


Slowly... but surely.

All that said, here are some yummy recipes from my appreciative belly to yours:

Green Chile Biscuits and Chipotle Gravy

Coconut Shrimp Curry

Winter of Magic Puttanesca

Bon appetit!

Geologic Revolution

These photos of Mount St. Helens erupting are spectacular reminders for me that large-scale changes are often powerful, violent and beautiful all at the same time and can leave extraordinary landscapes in their wake.

Things That Go Bump In The Night

I am headed back to California in March (this time with Evan in tow) for the wedding of dear ones from high school. The trip promises to be a whirlwind reentry into the land of eucalyptus and salty sea-fresh air with nary a moment to even say hi to the 'rents.

Having grown up there, I gotta say...

That corner of the world is an evocative place-- a landscape that encourages a kid's imagination to run wild. Disorienting misty vapors and toe-nibbling creatures of the deep, the monsters of my childhood didn't live indoors in closets or under beds. They haunted the twisty roads of Northern Marin and the waters of the wind-whipped bay.


Little did I know that an artist named Don Kenn --born and raised in Denmark, miles upon miles away from San Francisco-- would perfectly capture these imaginings on wee post-its. How amazing is that? They remind me of the work of Edward Gorey-- macabre and beautiful all at the same time. I'm a fan.




If we DID want to bring this vibe indoors, we could plaster our home with this wallpaper by Abigail Edwards:


More spooky cool birds:

Clap For Evolution

(click on pic for clip)

Do you know where Lizzy found this? I don't, but wish I did!

The Slow Life

It's Saturday morning, I am still in bed at 10am and I just got introduced to a new blog that I love. Today is a good day in Wyoming.

Valentine's Day

I was so impressed... and grateful.

On a day when multiple husbands came into gym class to present their wives with valentines and new bouquets were arriving at HQ every hour, Evan successfully dodged cultural pressure to deliver roses, chocolates, jewelery and the like.

Instead, he gave me just what I needed on a day when I was feeling sick as a dog-- ginger/lemon/echinacea juice (my favorite).

To feel known --as in, "He knows me."-- is a joy.

On nights when I wake up at midnight reduced to tears of frustration by stabbing, prickly pain that makes me want to rip my skin off (happens all too often these days), Evan patiently searches the house in his pajamas for aloe vera and books that describe pressure points to relieve the electrical storm in my body. I value those tender, intimate moments way more than being on the receiving end of a Hallmark card gesture on a random day in February.

So thanks and love to my valentine for making me feel blessed on a daily basis.

As for the fake shotgun wedding thrown by NOLS Japan in celebration of Cupid and his works...


It blew my mind the way folks rallied and brought their A game.

The crazy cat woman had hand-drawn feline portraits in her locket. The ring bearer wore a shorts suit and scoured town for ring pops to place on a frilly, heart-shaped pillow. The bride wore a gown donated for the occasion by a now-divorced friend. The flower girl tossed foam hearts and tried to understand the nature of his mom's "wrestling" with the bride in college. Maritime law was declared at one point by the ship captain in penny loafers who preformed the ceremony. The ostrich feathers from my pillbox hat keep on getting in my mouth (originally I was cast as Xanadu, the stripper from the night before who hadn't been paid, but then I transformed into the mother of the bride when Amy found a costume at the Methodist Thrift Store that was too good to pass up). The bride's sorority sister got into it with the pushy videographer. The father of the bride sipped on his flask and looked dashing with his chrysanthemum boutonnière as he kept the peace between his daughters and found a solution when the intended groom was a no-show. The DJ stayed aloof and looked hot as she spun classic tunes for the dance floor. The wedding photographer captured the magic, but so far the photos have remained sheltered from view in order to protect the innocent.

Upshot?

I laughed until I cried at the sheer ridiculousness of the evening and was proud to call these people my friends.

I Found It!

The Apothecary Of My Dreams

Scratching An Itch (Is A Bitch)

This is the best I could come up with via a google image search-- quite obviously a hand model and that's not my skin.

My hands are utilitarian and stubby and my skin is racked with red streaks and bumps, not covered in bronzer like this model's.

You see...

I find it's mighty hard to resist scratching when my whole body itches.

No, I don't have scabies. I have hives. And they suck. Ass.

That said, I think Pema Chodron might be onto something (much as I hate to admit it).

Winter's Creativity

With snow falling outside, leaving feet of fresh powder in driveways, walkways and all other ways, it is easy to argue that it's time to hibernate and steep in creative juices.

Last night, it was only a fear of falling indecorously onto tabletops and hard edges that kept Evan from installing ice climbing holds on our living room ceiling.

Three artists that have caught my eye of late...


Adele Enersen takes photos of her sleeping daughter amidst her imagined dreams.


Pierre Le Hors has produced a book of stark firework photography that has me excited for the Fourth of July... in February!

(click on pic for artist profile)

I am sorely tempted to buy the winter hat that Yokoo currently has on sale at her Etsy shop.

Paper Products

...my first thought upon being introduced to The Big Harumph.

...my second thought. As in, "Shit! Hide the credit card."

Malaysia...

With Wyoming temperatures hovering around -18ºF over the past couple of days, this post by Pia Jane Bijkerk about a Malaysian island retreat really hit the spot...

Of Sin-Eaters And Hungry Ghosts

In the six stages of life according to the Buddha is one called the realm of the hungry ghosts. They look something like this:


...bloated stomachs and necks too thin to pass food make eating incredibly painful. With "mouths the size of a needle's eye and a stomach the size of a mountain", they become a metaphor for people's futile attempts to fulfill illusory desires.

As for sin-eaters...

A local legend in Shropshire, England concerning the grave of one Richard Munslow, who died in 1906 and was said to be the last sin-eater of the area, has this to say:

By eating bread and drinking ale over the body of the deceased and by making a short speech at the graveside, the sin-eater took upon himself the sins of the deceased. He would say, "I give easement and rest now to thee, dear man. Come not down the lanes or in our meadows. And for thy peace I pawn my own soul. Amen."

He Posits Certain Mysteries

The body of the boy who took his flight
off the cliff at Kilcloher into the sea
was hauled up by the curragh-men, out at first light
fishing mackerel in the estuary.
"No requiem or rosary" said the priest,
"nor consecrated ground for burial,"
as if the boy had flown outside the pale
of mercy or redemption or God's love.
"Forgive them, for they know not what they do,"
quoth the sin-eater to the corpse's people,
who heard in what he said a sort of riddle,
as if he meant their coreligionists
and not their sodden, sadly broken boy.
Either way, they took some comfort in it
and readied better than accustomed fare
of food and spirits; by their own reckoning:
the greater the sin, the greater so the toll.
But the sin-eater refused their shilling coin
and helped them build a box and dig a grave.
"Your boy's no profligate or prodigal,"
he said, "only a wounded pilgrim like us all.
What say his leaping was a leap of faith,
into his father's beckoning embrace?"
They killed no fatted calf. They filled the hole.

- Thomas Lynch
(The Sin-eater: A Breviary will be out this fall)

We humans are an amazing species, eh? We weave a rich tapestry with our beliefs.

Damn You, Auto Correct!

Just as auto correct changed "eval" to "veal" for the thousandth time in an email I was writing for work, Audrey (my partner in crime at the Big House) sent me these...

And I laughed. Because I understood.





And there are more where these came from! Along those lines, When Parents Text also tends to amuse.