A Day in the Heather

Change Your Mind About Cleveland

2010-01-07T09:15:00.000-08:00

Whenever I announce that I'm heading to Cleveland, I steel myself for the inevitable round of "CCCs" (crappy comments re: Cleveland). "WHY are you going to CLEVELAND?" "Didn't Lake Erie, like, catch on fire a few year ago?" or more simply, "Oh, I'm sorry." It's obvious to me when you say things like this that you've never been there, you don't know what you're talking about, and you should STFU. Or just read this blog about some great things to do in Cleveland.

You think Seattle has the market cornered (no pun intended) on outdoor markets? Cleveland has one of the best markets I've ever seen called the West Side Market. Started in 1840, the West Side Market features 15 bakeries, 34 produce stands (whose prices make me wish I'd never heard the words "Metropolitan Market"), about 35 butchers, dairy merchants, flowers, and the whole nine yards. We bought some of the most delicious baked goods I've had (other than my own! Just kidding.)

Cleveland of course features the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Museum, but it's also a great place for sightseers of a more low-key type, such as those who like historical architecture. We stayed in the historic Clifford House Bed & Breakfast in Ohio City, and enjoyed walking neighborhoods of beautiful old historic homes. Clifford House itself was wonderful -- a beautiful home built in 1868 -- featuring an amazing breakfast each morning and a wonderful dog named Sherlock. In Ohio City was a really great restaurant named Heck's. We went there for lunch and everyone was incredibly impresed with their food, and then later that same day stopped by again during a sudden snowstorm for desserts and hot chocolates. Yum!

Another great haunt in Cleveland is the Beachland Ballroom & Tavern. Yeah, it's in East Cleveland, which isn't a really great part of the city by reputation, but I've never even seen anyone sketchy anywhere near the club and it's really fine. Parking is readily available and the location is a quick 5 minutes or so from downtown. The Beachland features good bands, bad bands, and a lot of music in between. It's just a great old school rock club and a fun place to meet people.

There are some great neighborhoods in Cleveland that are really fun to explore. Besides Ohio City and downtown, there are Lakewood and Rocky River, among many others. I personally love Lakewood, with its great boutiques like Turnstyle and delicious restaurants like India Garden.

So, please consider that that place you so freely dismiss sight unseen is someone else's beloved hometown and a wonderful place to visit. Book that trip to Cleveland and I dare you to tell me I'm wrong about it!

Real Simple = Real Bad?

2009-11-03T19:11:00.000-08:00

I have a problem with Real Simple. For one thing, they've gotten way to woman's magaziney with their content. I don't need "morning make-up solutions" or "6 great new ways to do your hair." I don't care what the folks at Real Simple think I should be wearing this fall. There are far more fashionable magazines to get fashion and beauty tips, and I don't need Real Simple to tell me how to do crunches (um, hello? That's why I get Shape.)

But the biggest problem is that the quality of the recipes varies so widely. Last night, I made a recipe from Nov. '09's Real Simple that turned out perfectly. It's listed in their section, "Weeknight Meals," under the subsection "One Pot." Aptly named Roasted Chicken and Carrots with Olives and Lemons, this recipe is truly wonderful! See the end of the article for the recipe reprinted. I highly suggest you try it if you like chicken. It was an easy, no-brainer recipe that even novice cooks could get right. Plus, if you and your spouse don't like the same parts of chicken (for instance, I like white and Alex likes dark), since you're cooking a whole bird, you're both happy.

Heartened by my recent success, I cooked another Real Simple recipe tonight. This was only two pages away from the Roasted Chicken that was so fabulous. But unfortunately, "Steak with Crispy Potatoes and Pistachio Pesto" was not a winner. The steak was good, but I'd be surprised if all of a sudden I couldn't cook a sirloin steak and make it amazing. The crispy potatoes were good. But the two items that were the most work, namely the pistachio pesto and the broccoli rabe, disappointed greatly. The pesto required me to shell a number of pistachios, and while the pesto tasted nice, it was completely overpowered by the steak. This would be much better on a delicate fish, such as halibut. The broccoli rabe required a special trip to Metropolitan Market, where I learned it is pronounced "Rah-Bay. And, it was inedible. I cooked it EXACTLY like the recipe suggested and it came out nothing like it. Maybe broccoli rabe is just no good? Seems strange, considering I like leafy green vegetables like Swiss chard, bok choy, chinese broccoli, and kale. But it wasn't just me. My husband looked incredibly relieved when I declared the broccoli rabe disgusting and threw it in the trash. So, Real Simple approved this recipe that contained two good elements but added one element that was unnecessary and another that was inedible.

That's why I subscribe to Good Housekeeping, despite the fact that the magazine is very dorky and is overly geared towards moms. (By the way, don't moms have their own mom-related magazines? Why does the fact that I want to excel at "housekeeping," including cooking, mean I need to learn about how to resolve fights between kindergartners?) GH has this excellent policy of testing out all their recipes in their test kitchen three times before they'll publish them (oh how I'd love that job!) And so, only one time out of probably 50 or so recipes from GH I've tried has the recipe gone wrong.

Real Simple has great fonts, photography, and some interesting ideas about stain removal and alternative uses for everyday objects. Just don't count 100% on loving dinner if you use their recipes.

Recipe I LOVE (+ my notes):
Roasted chicken and carrots with olives and lemons
1 3 1/2 to 4 lb chicken, cut into pieces (can get them pre-pieced at grocery)
2 lbs carrots, cut into 2 in. pieces (halved lengthwise if thick)
1/2 cup pitted kalamata olives
4 bay leaves
1 lemon, cut into wedges
2 tbsp olive oil
Kosher salt and black pepper
1 tsp paprika

Heat oven to 425. On a large rimmed baking sheet (such as a jelly roll pan), toss chicken, carrots, olives, bay leaves, lemon, oil, 1 tsp salt, and 1/4 tsp pepper. Arrange in a single layer and sprinkle the chicken with the paprika.

Roast, tossing the vegetables once, until the chicken is cooked through and the carrots are tender, about 45 min.

Serve with crispy Caesar salad, if desired.

Pumpkins, pumpkins, pumpkins!

2009-11-01T19:09:00.000-08:00

I have a new motto for fall decorating: you can never have too many pumpkins. I thought before that you should only get as many pumpkins as you can carve for Halloween, so probably one, unless you're a staffer for Martha Stewart or something. Now it seems like the more the merrier. And there are so many cute pumpkins you can get -- the white ghost pumpkins, the tiny mini pumpkins, adorable and ugly squashes (which aren't even really pumpkins), and these perfectly sized sugar pumpkins.

Yesterday, I was in a hurry to get the place finished being decorated for Halloween before the kids came by trick-or-treating, and none of my several pumpkins were carved. I had bought all these pumpkins because I had a housewarming party a couple of weeks before Halloween. I've discovered something: uncarved pumkins = fall/harvest. Carved pumpkins= Halloween. Uncarved pumpkins, outside, will last for weeks in the cool fall air. But as soon as you carve them, they quickly begin to fade. That's why I waited until the day Halloween to carve the pumpkins.

Since I was in a hurry, I thought we should do the smaller sugar pumpkins to save time. Boy was I in for a surprise. Apparently the sugar pumpkins are designed for making pies and have much thicker shells -- making them harder to cut than the larger, normal pumpkins. Who knew? So we saved no time there. But we did make a really cute kitty cat and a "Boo!" pumpkin. Note: you must make enough airholes to feed a candle if you're using a real candle, otherwise it will extingish! Learned this the hard way with the "Boo!" pumpkin.

What to do with those seeds? Preheat oven to 350 degrees, and meanwhile clean the seeds using a round sieve and running water. The pumpkin bits go to the bottom. Then dry the seeds with paper towels, and put in a bowl. Add 2 tbsp olive oil (per about two pumpkins worth of seeds), 1 heaping tsp cayenne pepper, 1/2 tsp cumin, and 1 tsp truffle salt. Stir with whisk until all seeds are coated. Pour the seeds on a cookie sheet -- you can use the whisk to spread them around. Roast seeds for about 27 minutes. Voila - spicy, delicious pumpkin seeds!

A Wild and Wonderful Day!

2009-07-10T09:26:00.000-07:00

What an amazing day yesterday was! Just closing on our house was a huge accomplishment. Our lender was keeping us in great suspense by not turning in the paperwork until the final hour, but the title company really came through and did everything completely on the fly for us. But when we went over the papers, we realized that our lender had structured the deal in a way that left about $2800 of our money sitting on the table. Drat! So we got lender on the phone and worked out a way to make the deal happen so that we got all of our money, and we also got an even lower interest rate than we had originally bargained for! Our title agent was "double-fisting" it with phones on both ears, talking to people at the national HQ for her company and our lender down in Texas. It was pretty crazy, but for some reason I never got stressed out about it, at all. I think I knew it would all be o.k. A closing can be difficult, but I imagine it's rarely fatal, so I didn't get too worked up.

Nevertheless, afterwards I still needed to decompress, so I stopped for a mani/pedi and that really helped (even if the guy who gave it to me was highly unlikely to've been legally licensed... oh well).

Shortly thereafter, it was time to check out the exhibit. Here I have to stop and thank my friends for being open-minded to learn about the history of Tacoma's architecture. Just because I moved here in September and became fascinated with Tacoma's history, doesn't mean my friends did. But they still came and supported and that means the world to me. I also have to thank the director of Tacoma Historical Society, Mary Bowlby, for believing in me and my vision. It was amazing to see it played out in an exhibit, even in the cramped THS space. Many thanks also to Jeff Cunningham and his family for bringing treats to the reception, and Sanford & Sons antique shop, who let us use their space for the reception (very cool shop btw. I'll be there for an auction on July 20 if anyone cares to join me).

We all started to get hungry, so went down the recently-repaired Spanish Steps by the Elks (soon to be McMinemins!) to get to the Matador. It was a beautiful night, and the walk felt good. Matador was bustling with hip couples and groups of friends, and my Seattle friends seemed surprised that Tacoma is indeed fun and lively. Get used to it! We admired the wrought iron and wood decor, and crammed about 12 of us into a giant booth that still didn't feel big enough. My friends who arrived later were relegated to another large booth right next to us. Let me tell you, for me to butterfly between these two tables and still manage to get some dinner was no small feat, but I think I managed quite well. The mood was very festive and I had a fabulous time. Also, I am very blessed because I have not one but two friends who are jewelry-makers with great taste. So I got some pretties (thanks!). I also appreciated getting a book by Victoria Beckham called "That Extra Half an Inch" -- I'm told it refers to fashion, not to her hubby. Hee hee.

As we unfolded ourselves from our booths, the plan began to form of going to The Tempest for karaoke night. We said our goodbyes to those who had to go, and then several intrepid souls joined me at this fabulous joint on Hilltop. The Tempest is like a wonderfully shady living room, with funky secondhand furniture and plenty of atmosphere, and a bartender and karaoke host that almost immediately felt like family. While performing, I lost an earring (due to my insistence on wearing a platinum blonde prop wig and then flinging it away from me), and the bartender assured me in serious tones, “We will find that earring. Don’t you worry,” – and she did, minutes later. Many of us sang, and all of us seemed to have a great time. I did a reasonable job on “Hard to Handle” by The Black Crowes – you know what? That song is hard to handle! I realized while singing it that I’d never understood about 95% of the lyrics (who knew it says “Boys’ll come along a dime by the dozen/that ain’t nothin’ but dime-store lovin’”?) My friends said that my enunciation shed a whole new light on the song. Anyway, I never respected Chris Robinson, the singer of that band, the way I do now. Think rock stars don’t make enough money? Try belting that bad boy out at a stadium! That’s twice as hard (hee).
Anyway, we had a great time, and many great songs were sung, and I loved every one, even the country songs.

After we left the karaoke behind, Alex and I couldn’t resist a quick peek at our new abode. We went on in and practical me, I had to close the blinds in all the rooms to make sure no one can look in (at what? Beats me.) I took off my grey t-straps with their little maroon platforms and let my feet glide on newly-refinished hardwood floors that are mine-all-mine. Alex and I walked into the kitchen and my feet loved feeling my tile floors. We marveled at our bread box, our dishwasher, our butcher block island, our very own wonderful kitchen! We stepped out into the backyard around midnight, and the air still felt warm as I walked on the smooth wood of our deck, the cool concrete patio, the damp grass of our backyard. I hear the soft sounds of our new neighborhood, and I loved my life so much that my little heart nearly burst.

Sometimes life can be so hard, so terrible, and I don’t lose sight of that. It just makes me cherish days like this even more. Today I thank you, my friends, my family, the universe, and above all, God, for giving me such a day as this.

And now on to less lofty thoughts, such as packing my breakables and making a trip to Goodwill.

My Latest, Greatest Discoveries

2009-05-31T20:11:00.000-07:00

I got a wonderful early birthday present from my husband: a bike! It's a little Trek commuter bike, very light, indigo blue, and I love it! I love biking right now the way I loved it as a kid, riding down dusty red roads in southern Maryland, loving the sun on my face and the breeze you get only riding a bike. So fabulous. So that's my first discovery, that apparently I love to ride my bicycle.

Today we rode over to my friend Lara's place in Hilltop; she and her husband are apparently moving to Kirkland. That's too bad, but I cannot imagine leaving the cool stuff I'm finding here! After we saw her baby and chatted a bit we caught this bike path to the Narrow's Bridge. Along the way, we stopped and saw the War Memorial. A little late for Memorial Day, but still meaningful. This park smelled so good; I kept thinking, I hope those POWs and MIAs who are remembered at the park get to smell beautiful flowers like this in heaven. I hope souls can still enjoy beautiful fragrances in the world after this one; hopefully it can make up for the terrible things these brave men had to endure during this life.

Anyways, back to my trek. We went over the Narrows Bridge! It is so incredibly beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking, the blue waters and Olympics to the west and on the way back over, Mount Ranier. Wow.

We were starving, and we just happened upon this place called Papa Eddie's Corner Cafe & BBQ. We got the barbequed chicken breast plus collard greens, cornbread, and yams. Just one dish was enough to feed us both! So delicious.

I also recently discovered this amazing Filipino restaurant in Lakewood, WA, called the Polynesian Grill. If you're ever in Lakewood, check it out. Actually, might even be worth a trek down there. It's at 10518 S Tacoma Way #G.

The last discovery of today was Don's Market. Yummy milkshakes. Not as good as Frisco Freeze (delicious Dick's-like burger joint) but still quite good.

Life is good! Today is Pentacost, so this could just be the Holy Spirit talking, but thank God for all this. I am so grateful to be alive and well today. Praise God for all this good stuff! Whoo-hoo!

This Just In: Sexy Hair Possible in Tacoma!

2009-05-28T19:46:00.000-07:00

I finally did it. I had to lay off my Seattle hairdresser (thanks for all the good hair-dos, Sierra) and find a new stylist in Tacoma. A new business owner has to be as frugal as possible in all things, but she also has to look sharp. So this means finding ways to save, like driving less, and seeing if I can get less expensive haircuts. I had heard about Embellish, a salon in downtown Tacoma, and decided to give it a shot. I went on a "hair model day" which means, "we let the new girl practice on your head" day. It also means, hairdo is half-price!

My stylist, Eleanor, had a reddish pixie-cut 'do and big hazel eyes. I respected how she had come to styling hair a little later in life (she's in her late 30s), and just finished up at Gene Juarez. We had fun talking, but when I sat there with sopping wet hair, I was freaked out. What would this woman do to me? Was I going to look like some freakshow stereotype of Tacoma white trash? I imagined that I would look like a meth addict with slightly better teeth than average. "Do you think it's going to look o.k.?" I asked nervously. "I hope so!" said Eleanor, sounding a little worried. She blowdried me and a beautiful head of hair revealed itself. Then she asked the owner, Trish, to do that "thing she did" with my bangs and the fringey, piecy bits along the sides. Snip-snip, snip-snip, and voila! Perfect! I love it.

I feel more like I'm at home now. This is my place, now that I have a salon in town. In fact, Eleanor gave me a wig brush (of all things) and showed me how to backcomb the crown, for those days when I need some big, extra-sexy hair. Good stuff. Tacoma offers a more luxe lifestyle on my budget, without foregoing sexy hair. This means I can stay.

"Feels Right" Oatmeal Cookies

2009-03-09T08:49:00.000-07:00

Baking is something that I'm good at usually because I'm very precise about following directions. However, I've baked so many cookies now that I wondered what would happen if I made cookies based on what "felt right." My husband loves oatmeal raisin cookies, so I decided to try those. I've only ever made oatmeal cookies once, and they were "Oatmeal Scotchies," which have these delicious butterscotch chips. So, I only had a vague idea of how much of each thing to put in, but I just did what felt right. I'm happy to report that Alex thinks they're some of the best he's ever had.

"Feels Right" Oatmeal Cookies
Ingredients:
2 1/2 sticks very soft unsalted butter
2 1/2 cups light brown sugar, packed
2 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
2 large eggs
2 cups oatmeal (quick or old fashioned -- I used old fashioned)
2 cups flour
1 heaping tsp baking powder
1 heaping tsp cinnamon
1/2 level tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/4 cup chopped walnuts (optional)
3/4 cup raisins (optional)
3/4 cup dried apricots, chopped into small bits (optional - for if you or friends don't like raisins)

Put racks in upper third of oven (I was able to cook with both racks for once). In a large bowl, beat butter, brown sugar, and vanilla with electric mixer until fluffy. Add eggs one at a time and beat until fully blended in. Add baking powder, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt, oats, and flour and mix. Add nuts if you like and beat gently, then, if you want, divide the dough in 1/2, and add raisins to the one half and apricots to the other half. Mix until blended.

Drop rounded tbsps dough on cookie sheets covered by parchment paper. Ensure at least 1 1/2 inch space between cookies to avoid cookie joinage. Bake about 12-14 min, until golden-brown. Cookies will look soft but will firm as they cool. Leave on baking sheet about 2 min, then put on cooling racks.

Makes about 30something awesome cookies.

Media Overload + Reviews

2009-03-07T12:13:00.000-08:00

I am completely overwhelmed. I know that sounds silly. I'm not working (well, I'm volunteering a lot. I'm just not getting paid). What could I possibly have to overwhelm me?

Right now, it's media. There are several things I "should" watch, Letters to Iwo Jima, Into the Wild, Man on Wire, Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, and Season 2.5 of "Battlestar Gallactica" topping the list. This brings me to a weird thought: these things are designed to be entertainment. Why do I feel I NEED to watch this stuff as if it was part of my duty? I have lists of movies that I NEED to watch, or else I'm going to feel like a lesser human being.

So, let's start shifting through the detritus. I love your opinions on this and if it helps me prioritize, so much the better, so please share what you think. I've never done mid-read reviews before. I think it's a good idea.

BOOKS
Black Hole by Charles Burns. I started reading this right after my surgery, thinking that a graphic novel would be a good light choice. Uh... WRONG! Heavy and weird, man. There is some seriously messed up sh&t going on in this book. But I love it so far. Wow. 1/2 way through. Book so far: A

Anna Karenina by Tolstoy (Pevear & Volokhonsky richer, meatier translation) Really good, but I'm having a hard time getting myself to actually read it. It just doesn't go with Percoset, and right now, I do. Anyway, I've heard it has a really sad ending and I am not looking forward to that. I'm trying to read it with Woody Allen's Love and Death in the back of my mind; that helps make it more amusing. Through Book 2. So far: A

Wonderful Tonight by Patty Boyd. Autobio of George Harrison and Eric Clapton's old lady. Began reading just before surgery because I thought it would be a light fun read. Didn't consider Boyd's unbelievably boring description of her childhood when I had that idea. It's starting to get better, though, because she finally met George. Through p. 69. So far: C+... actually, given that I keep reading it, it must be at least a B-

Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates. I wanted to read this before I see the movie, and boy, oh, boy, is it a heavy, depressing ride into the depths of suburban hell. So far, I like Bret Easton Ellis's Lunar Park much better, when it comes to novels that tell us why suburbia is horrifying. p. 118 out of 463. So far B+

Courtesans & Fishcakes: the Consuming Passions of Classical Athens by James Davidson. Surprisingly accessible book about the ancient Greeks. Just started; can't grade yet.

The Algebraist by Iain Banks. I've been reluctant to read Banks due to an ex's great love for him. However, my neighbor talked me into it. So far, seems very good. Great quote: "Dear Reason, maybe none of us are safe anywhere." Another great quote: "It could choose to go with some elegance, or not, but it could not choose not to go. No-unchoosing death." Just started; can't grade yet.

Why Marriages Succeed or Fail... and how you can make yours last by John Gottman, Ph.D. Really great relationship book. Maybe the attempts to quantify love are offensive to some, but I need all the help I can get. Very helpful insights, and plus, lots of fun quizzes. 1/3 of way through. So far: A-

Magazines
Some of these are guilty pleasures. Ok, they're all guilty pleasures.

Bust I've been a reader and a subscriber for years. This magazine is like the grown-up version of Sassy. Feminist in a fun way, this rag never fails to lift my spirits and teach me something useless, like how to make a belt out of beer bottle caps or a kitschy pouch for my sanitary napkins out of vintage reproduction fabrics. Then it'll have Lily Allen as the cover girl and I'm really head-over-heels.

Good Housekeeping Yes, you read that right. This magazine has such good recipes, which also tell you calorie counts and how much the meal will cost approximately. I take out all the recipes and put them in a three-ring binder. This month, GH will teach me how to make a delicious healthy version of eggs Benedict, how to store asparagus, how to make leg of lamb with oregano & lemon, and Roman-Style Artichokes. Doncha wish your girlfriend - could - cook - like - me? Doncha? A wifely must. Is it terribly un-PC of me to say that. Does reading Bust cancel this last one out at all?

Real Simple - kinda like the previous entry, but a little more modern, and doesn't necessarily assume I have kids like GH does (which gets old). Great organizing and money tips in this good little magazine.

Fitness & Shape - I like to tear out the recipes and workouts from these and try the new workouts at the gym. What's fun is when my trainer comes up and yells "What in tarnation are you DOING??" in my face while I'm trying to do something called "good morning raise" or "pistol squat."

Juxtapoz Art & Culture Magazine- the magazine for pop surrealist art. This is great for releasing your brain from its logical left-side bondage and experiencing visual bliss.

Washington State Bar News - Let me be real here. The only things I read in this mag are Bob Cumbow's amusing reflections upon the misuse of grammar, and the disbarment notifications. Unfortunately I've seen a couple of names I know, but (fingers crossed!) not mine!

VFW Magazine - not just for old farts! I love this magazine's tales of wars, heroes, and veterans working to get the recognition and benefits they deserve. I've actually considered being a Ladies Auxiliary Member because I love this magazine so dearly.

Vanity Fair - this is where I get a lot of my information about current affairs, which is why I can talk to you about Anne Hathaway's failed romance at length, but don't completely understand what the "Dow Jones Industrial" whatever-it's-called is.

Assorted others, from time to time:
GX: the Guard Experience - the National Guard's magazine has great pieces about health and kickass pictures of our soldiers um, kicking ass.

Giant Robot - from time to time, I need a Japanese culture/art fix. This is it.

Newsweek - Alex subscribes to this and I read it from time to time so I learn about "news." I always wind up reading the articles about things like Barbie's 50th Birthday and Afghanistan. The economy, sadly, I still find boring, despite the fact that we are in desperate times. (It's bad. OK. I get it!)

The Believer - I like McSweeney's (collections of short fiction) a LOT more than The Believer. But Nick Hornby writes book reviews in it which are good, and my good friend, writer and games expert Brian Schneider, gave this subscription for me as a gift, which was really nice. (Sorry for the name dropping. But it's true, that's who gave it to me).

Martha Stewart Living and Better Homes & Gardens - These are basically more housewife porn. MS Living has lovely pictures and descriptions, but honestly, the recipes call for very expensive and ridiculous food and equipment, and aren't always "all that" when it comes down to it. BH & G is like GH but has fabulous pics of gardens, and homes, which are all much better than mine. (Couldn't resist).

National G, Conde Nast, Adventure - I don't buy travel magazines, but when they're around I love to read them and make collages of the pictures in them.

So that's most of it. What's shocking it's not all of it. I'm not bragging here. I think it's an illness. Hopefully all the stuff that I read and the bits of information I collect reach a critical mass and foment an amazing novel. I'm just going to keep reading and watching and listening and learning and writing and synthesizing and making it happen every single day until one day, it all makes sense and turns into something beautiful.

Finding a Reason Where Reason Fears to Tread

2009-03-03T14:46:00.001-08:00

Warning: TMI very possible here. If you're not really a friend or interested --don't bother to read.

I finally have a little bit of closure from the great ordeal that was 2008. I have never publicly blogged about this because I felt so sad, but also, because there was a little bit of shame, like this was somehow my fault. But here goes. I miscarried twice in 2008. The first was only after a few weeks of being pregnant, so while it was tragic and very difficult for me, it was easier to simply say it wasn't meant to be. The second one was in October after 12 wonderful weeks of pregnancy. I made it through the first trimester, thought I was clear, and told practically everyone that I was pregnant. And then the unthinkable: I miscarried. Again.

After the second one, I vowed to my poor lost baby that I would do everything in my power to get to the bottom of the problem and prevent this from happening again. I went to my ob/gyn at St. Joseph's Hospital in Tacoma. She said that m/cs are common and "we don't really do much about them until you're had three or more... but we can run these tests for you if you really want." I began the testing procedure there, and she discovered that I have a gene mutation which can sometimes cause blood clotting, which has been linked to a greater number of miscarriages. She glommed onto this information as if it solved everything. Luckily, I had done some research on my own, and the experts in m/c agree that often there is more than one cause, and the biggest mistake doctors make is in assuming that if they find one cause, it is "the" cause. Furthermore, the causal connection between my partiular gene mutation and miscarriage is tenuous at best. I talked to the doc at St. Joe's and she was unwilling to do further tests. I promptly got myself into Madigan Army Hospital, where they take a very proactive stance towards reproductive problems. Happy families mean happier soldiers, I suppose.

My doc at MAMC ordered additional blood work and genetic testing for Alex and me, and when those showed no definite problems other than my gene mutation, she recommended an additional test. This unpleasant procedure, the "HSG," is where they take x-Ray pics of dye as it flows into your uterus (which the doc at St. Joseph's assured me was not worthwhile to do in my case). They discovered a problem with my uterus where I have this septum, present from birth, which is low in blood vessels and does not provide a healthy environment for a fetus. The fetus basically starves (THIS [and many other reasons] is why you don't tell someone who just miscarried that it's "nature's way of taking out the garbage" -- there was probably nothing wrong with either baby. They just starved to death in my inhospitable womb. And don't tell me my effing baby is GARBAGE! How obvious is that?)

Anyway, the HSG results led them to do the laparoscopy/hysteroscopy, which they did Friday, and it turns out there was indeed a septum, which they removed. I need to rest for a few days, and let myself heal up. Hopefully, after taking estrogen to help the lining of my uterus, in a couple months maybe I can get pregnant again, and we'll hope for the best.

So, new mommies-to-be whose biggest worry is that they're being overly materialistic by purchasing Seven maternity jeans (and you are, by the way!) -- I can't relate to you at all. People who tell me "just don't worry about it -- let nature happen!" == shut the F*CK up. You Do Not Know What You Are Talking About! And to those friends, the majority of my friends, who supported me and helped me through all this -- I love you. You are amazing. I wish you every blessing in this world and if you ever do decide to have kids, may your journey be easy and simple and free of the pain of loss.

Now you know the full story. If you ever have a friend lose a baby, give them a huge hug and tell them how sorry you are for their loss. Make them something to eat. Show them you love them. That's all you can really do.

Nouveau Comfort Food for Depressing Times

2009-02-23T20:11:00.000-08:00

I am depressed. I just found out that an old friend died last week. I'm seriously depressed. And I also noticed it's been a month and a half since I last blogged! Wow. So, here's a new blog for your mid-winter blues. Eat your heart out on some nouveau comfort food.

Beef Tenderloin Steaks with Mashed Potatoes and Swiss Chard (The steaks and chard recipes are adapted from Jan. '09 Better Homes and Gardens).
4 6oz beef tenderloin steaks
1 tbsp butter
1 tsp olive oil
4 shallots, halved
3/4 cup beef broth
1 tbsp butter, softened
Snipped flat leaf Italian parsley
Peppercorns (optional)

Sprinkle steaks with salt and pepper. In a large cast iron skillet, heat 1 tbsp butter and the oil over high heat. Brown steak bottoms (1-2). Turn and cook 6 min or more until desired doneness. Remove steaks and keep warm.
Add shallots to skillet. Cook about 5 min, then add beef broth. Scrape skillet to remove browned yummy bits. Whip in that last tbsp of softened butter. Then put the steaks in and dollop the liquid over the top. Throw some snipped Italian parsley on there, and a few peppercorns, if you like. Voila! Bon appetit.

Momma's Mashed Potatoes
While the steaks are cooking, throw about 3 pounds of peeled Yukon gold potatoes (yes, it makes a difference in the taste!), cut into 1" cubes, in a big pot of boiling water. When the potatoes are almost soft, take a stick of butter and 3/4 cup whole milk, and saute over low heat, taking care not to scorch. When the potatoes are fork tender (10-15 mins), drain them in a colander and then put them in a mixing bowl. Use electric beater to smoosh them up, and add generous dashes of salt and pepper. Also dash in some heavy whipping cream until your potatoes are the desired consistency. Delish-eee-ous, I gawrawntee.

While all this is going on, boil up another big ol' pot of water. Take some nice Swiss chard (don't be afraid!) and chop the red stems off. Throw them in the water as soon as it's boiling and let them boil about 4-5 min. Then throw in the leaves and let it all boil about 2 more mins. When chard is tender, strain it in a colander, and drizzle a bit of good olive oil over it, dash with salt and pepper, and also drizzle some yummy vinegar on top. So good that you won't believe you never (or rarely) eat chard!

And what about dessert? What comfort dinner is without dessert? Well, let me introduce you to some cookies I'm really proud of. These are all my own invention.

Heather's Chocolate Caramel Monsters (aka amazingly good everything-but-the kitchen sink cookies)
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
2/3 cup baking cocoa
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup sugar
2/3 cup packed dark brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 large eggs
1-12 oz package white chocolate chips
1-12 oz package small round caramel bits
1 1/2 (ish) cups chopped pecans

Preheat oven to 350. Combine flour, cocoa, baking soda, and salt in a bowl. Beat butter, sugar, brown sugar, and vanilla extract in very large bowl, until creamy. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each egg. Gradually beat in flour mixture. Stir in chips, bits, and nuts. Drop by large rounded tsp on cookie sheets covered in parchment paper.
Bake for about 10 minutes, until set. Cool on sheets for 2-4 min, then move to wire racks. Enjoy, and don't forget to brush your teeth after these. (Your dentist would not be pleased with me if I didn't say that.)

Cook, eat, feel better, repeat as desired.

Ch-ch-ch-cherry Cobbler

2009-01-02T21:05:00.000-08:00

This is a mixture of two cobbler recipes, "cobbled" together. Hee. The crust is superb... try it with different fruits. I bet it's amazing with blueberries.

Ingredients:
2 cans Oregon tart pie cherries
1 tbsp cornstarch
1 cup sugar, or to taste
1/4 tsp almond extract
1 1/2 tbsp baking powder
1 1/3 cups flour
1/2 tsp salt
8 tbsps (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut in small bits
1 egg
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

For cherries: drain one can of juice, and put the all the cherries with one can still having juice over low heat. Using a small bit of cold water, dissolve a tbsp of cornstarch separately. Once fully dissolved, add to cherries, stirring gently but constantly with a wooden spoon. Add 1/4 tsp almond extract and 1/2 cup sugar and stir until thick.

Preheat oven to 375.

Grease a 8"x8"x3" glass or earthenware casserole with butter; put cherries at the bottom and set aside.

For dough: whisk dry ingredients including the remaining 1/2 cup of the sugar. Add the 8 tbsp of butter in small bits. Cut the butter in until it's party mixed. Get out your electric mixer and mix in the eggs and vanilla extract until it's all damp. Don't worry about it being all smooth and perfect. That's really against the whole spirit of a cobbler.

Spoon the dough by tablespoonfuls; leave little bits of cherry peeking through. Bake about 35 min until golden yellow and just starting to get brown.

Soooo good. Serve it up hot with vanilla ice cream.

"The Godfather" Bread Soup

2008-12-24T08:45:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, Alex and I finally got around to watching The Godfather and The Godfather II. I know; it's shocking that we hadn't seen them before. And now having seen them, I'm even more appalled, because they are so very freaking good. I think I need to see III even though I heard it's not so great, because I want to see what happens next. In any case, what could make any experience watching The Godfather better than eating some amazing Italian Bread Soup? Now apparently, the soup I made might be Tuscan, not Sicilian, but I think it's close enough and whatever region it's from, it's amazing. So, for a rough facsimilie of what I had last night, you could just click this recipe for Pappa al Pomodoro. But for something even yummier, that you can have for two meals, do this. A few days before you want the bread soup, make this amazing Rustic Cabbage Soup from 101 Recipes. Accompany it with some baked French or white, country bread. Have that for a few meals until you get kind of sick of it and have a medium pot left, and about 1/3 loaf of the white bread. Then take the soup and put it in a big pot over low-medium heat. Add 1-16 oz. can of diced tomatoes. Add a 16 oz can of organic, low-sodium tomato soup. Stir gently. Toss in bite-sized chunks of the stale French or white bread. Do not stir -- the bread's too delicate for that. Gently push in the bread so it soaks up the liquid. Serve hot with grated parmesan cheese on top. Tocca a te...Buona fortuna!

Lawyer, Store Owner, Housewife?

2008-12-16T22:54:00.000-08:00

"The Christmas Wife." No, it's not the title of a Lifetime Original Movie. It's me. It's what I was thinking I would call a TV show or movie based on what I've been doing lately. Now that I'm not a "lawyer," and the idea of saying I'm a "writer" just seems ridiculous given how much time I actually spend writing as compared to cooking, I'm not really sure what my identity is. But "wife" will do for now, I suppose. How about "baker"?

My 2009 resolution was to make a perfect cream-based pie. I have to find a new resolution because I did it. It wasn't that hard. Just follow the recipe in Joy of Cooking exactly. That means where it says whole milk, you use whole milk, not skim (who knew milk fats were so important?). Where it says bring to a bare simmer, you don't let that bad boy boil. And for God's sake, where it says to toast the shredded coconut at 300, don't just throw it in the oven at 400 because you already have a freaking lasagna in there and you just figure you can get away with it if you watch it really closely. Nope. Do it EXACTLY like Joy says.

Now, I wish some people actually read this freaking blog, for instance, people who make Red Velvet cakes. Or people who just really know their cake and want to contribute their favorite Red Velvet cake recipe. Because unfortunately, Joy doesn't have a recipe for Red Velvet cake, and I made the one posted by Sara Moulton on the Food Network site. What a terrible disappointment. The icing was great (how can you go wrong with an entire POUND of creamcheese, and the cake was indeed very, very red. It was unfortunately dry, not as tall as I would've liked, and flavorless. I don't think I overbeat the cake, but even if I did, that wouldn't explain the flavorlessness.... I think the recipe just isn't that great. Quantities seem off. You'd be better off buying a Betty Crocker white cake and adding 2 tbsps of red food coloring and a quarter cup of cocoa than making this recipe. But by all means, make the frosting! Just put it on a more worthy cake.

Other recent firsts: first pork chops, first lasagna, first many different types of cookies. Not lemon bars though. Those I've been making for years.

Advice for cooking holiday favorites: play Christmas music really loudly. It makes you feel like you're in this fabulous holiday musical. Wear a holiday apron. Sing along to the music, even the really cheesy songs you don't like. Talk to your pets! You'll feel like Snow White meets It's a Wonderful Life.

Holiday stuff I did lately: a seemingly endless pile of Christmas cards. It took hours; enough to watch the Woody Allen movie Love and Death (very funny send up of Russian lit), two episodes of Emeril Green's cooking show (Cajun cooking was the topic of one. Can't remember the other.), two episodes of Wife Swap (horrifically entertaining), and one episode of a show called the First 48 Hours (unrepentantly grim with major gleams of bleakness). So, like five hours. And I already worked on it a few hours in the preceeding days. Wow. If you didn't get a Christmas card from me, then here's your big "Merry Christmas, Love Heather & Alex." Hope that'll do, because I'm not doing any more.

Previously: Shopping. I'm almost 100% done. Luckily I did it almost all ahead of time. That really, really helps make Christmas more fun. However, I do still have to brave the stores for one last gift. For those of you who haven't begun your shopping yet, all I can say is that I've been there too, and may the Lord have mercy on your souls.

Tomorrow: I have to stamp and mail the freaking cards, wrap the Christmas presents for faraway family, and ship them off. I can't stand packing the presents in boxes... way too much spacial reasoning for my pleasure. Boringly enough, I also have to do some menial chores: laundry, dishes, cleaning. But then there's the thing I really want to do, which is to make a gingerbread house. Guess which one I'm prioritizing? Gingerbread house, I'm gonna make you. I don't care if you're difficult and not all that tasty. A house made out of candy just sounds too sweet not to make.

Tomorrow is pretty typical of my days these days. Is it wrong that I actually kind of like it? I wonder if I should feel guilty that I'm "just" a housewife. Truth is, if there was no money worry attached, it would be a pretty greaqt gig. However, money is an object, and I do wonder if eventually I'd feel unfulfilled or regret leaving the workforce (though never will I regret leaving the public defender office).

So what to do next: I'm thinking of opening a clothing shop. That might be more interesting than being a lawyer. My worries about that are that we might not stay in Tacoma. It wouldn't make sense to start a shop here if we're moving back to Seattle (or elsewhere). But I have a lot of experience with retail and I do love clothes, and I love business, and it would be a great thing to be my own boss. But then there's that worrying voice in my head that says, "What about the economy? Are you seriously considering starting a small business during this terrible economic downturn?" and "You could make so much more money being a lawyer!"

Oh, and in case you've been reading long enough to know that I have been considering starting a wedding planning business, I still think it's a great idea, but my location is not ideal for it. I don't have many contacts in Tacoma yet, and I'm just a leetel to far for it to make sense to commute to my clients and vendors up in Seattle. Plus the economy thing again... who is seriously going to pay to have their wedding planned if they're worried about losing their jobs? So that idea's on the backburner for now to dust off for later.

There are some interesting law job prospects that I'm seriously considering. I am definitely not completely tossing out that possibility. It will be fascinating for me to see what the new year brings.

Britney & Bush: Please Go Away in Peace!

2008-12-06T08:13:00.000-08:00

Recently the January issue of Glamour arrived at my door. The cover features a noticeably cleaned up Britney Spears in a white shirt against a white backdrop. She's all brown eyes and tenuous smile, legs folded underneath her demurely. The headline reads: "Healthier at Last, She Finally Opens Up About Her 'Crazy Year.'" In the article, the interviewer notes that her manager is there, disallowing Britney to answer many of the questions. Furthermore, Glamour states "it's a recovery in progress," and that her energy levels fluxuated wildly from alert to lethargic.

I hope, for Britney's sake, that she's better. But more importantly, I hope for the purposes of branding "American culture," that she's done making an ass out of herself. I think the comeback attempt is sweet, but unlikely to succeed, and it would be better still if she would just go away.

I don't hate Britney. I'm not crazy about that kind of music, but honestly, I mostly feel sorry for her. I just wish she would knock it off because she's embarassing me.

Same thing with George W. You'll never see me with an "Impeach Bush" bumper sticker, because I actually feel sorry for the guy. He wasn't really capable of dealing with all the problems that came with running a nation. He's just kind of ... embarassing.

So we're wrapping up with George W., and that makes me feel incredibly relieved. Maybe it's time for Britney to "retire" as well? Wouldn't that be grand? Please, Britney, Bush -- just go away already?

The Officers' Spouses' Club

2008-12-04T07:56:00.000-08:00

Sixteen military wives
Thirty-two softly focused brightly colored eyes
(The Decemberists, 16 Military Wives)

When I married Alex, I jokingly asked if I should join the Officers’ Spouses’ Club, but I never thought I would actually do that. However, when I first moved to Tacoma, I had only two friends down here besides Alex. (Now I have roughly four friends – the number has doubled! Not bad.) Anyway, I needed to find a new doctor very quickly, and I had no one to ask for a reference. I remembered that there was the Officers’ Spouses’ Club, and I contacted the club president to see if she had a recommendation of doctors in the area. She didn’t, but suggested I start getting involved so I could talk to the other wives and get their opinions. She was so friendly and welcoming that I thought it was worth looking into joining.

Meanwhile, I’ve already found my own doctor, but I still wanted to see what the OSC was all about. I agreed to volunteer as a docent for today’s Tour of Homes. Once a year as a fundraiser, ten higher ranking officers open their homes and people tour through them to see what their homes are like and also for decorating ideas. This year it’s on Fort Lewis in the stately Broadmoor community. Since I’m pretty nosy, I knew I just had to get involved with that!

Last night, the OSC held a reception at the OSC president’s house for the volunteers who were opening their homes as well as the docents. Then we got a VIP tour of the houses ourselves; otherwise, we would only get to see the house that we were volunteering in.

I was surprisingly nervous getting ready. It felt like the first day of 7th grade all over again. Would they shun me? Maybe I don’t look officer-wifey enough (whatever that means)? Maybe the fact that my husband is full-time active duty National Guard, as opposed to regular Army stationed at Ft. Lewis, would be a barrier? And then I thought, so what if they don't like me? Will the world end?

Then I told my wussy butt that facing fear is the best way to make it go away, and I walked into a throng of about 30 beautifully dressed and coiffed ladies. A man in a red shirt and jeans slunk out quickly, sensing that this was not a place for men. Oh no. It was all about the ladies. It reminded me of my sorority from college except the women were for the most part nicer and much less drunk.

We ate amazing baklava and drank punch or wine and chatted.* I met a woman who worked in investments until she had her son, who is autistic and needs a lot of care. She was my age, pretty, smart, and hip. I also met a really nice lady who unfortunately tried to convince me to go to her church. She explained that even though I’m Catholic, God is God and it doesn’t matter which church you go to. While on one level I agree with her, I just simply couldn’t do that. Not just because her church is one of those Assembly of God things, but because I’m Catholic. I like my worship old school. Really old school. But I digress.

One of the most fun parts of the night was hopping in this lady Kathy’s SUV to go to the other houses with two other ladies. Kathy is a former military police officer (MP) who now works in public affairs. My favorite thing about her is that she had her satellite radio station tuned to Butt Rock and we were rocking out to Poison, Junkyard, Def Leppard, and other hair bands. That was hilarious.

So about the décor. Some of the homes were a little too robustly patriotic (think all-American red white and blue Christmas tree) for my taste. But most of these places served to make me feel deeply, irreparably inadequate in terms of how clean, organized, well decorated, and large my home is, for my homes is none of those things at present time. I gasp to think at the hours and hours of labor hanging all the greenery, putting up multiple Christmas trees, and installing a myriad of soft white lights must have taken. Not to mention the women who sew their own drapes, who hand make appliqués for the walls, who make adorable curtains out of ribbons and Christmas ornaments…. Wow.

But that feeling of inadequacy apparently is something we all share. Almost everyone said something about how they felt guilty at the state of their own homes. One of the women whose home was in the tour was fretting about how lame her house was compared to all the others. It wasn’t as big, she didn’t have as many Christmas decorations, she didn’t have handmade drapes. She only had one Christmas tree! Her home wasn’t nearly as clean, nearly as sophisticated, nearly as lovely as all the other homes, she lamented. I went there and it was full of beauty. She had the cabinet her grandfather made her that her husband refinished as a surprise. She had a painting her grandmother made. She had personal mementos all through her beautiful, clean, organized home. How dare she feel inadequate? She’s a freaking domestic goddess, and she works full time on top of that.

Maybe it’s too far to say these women are the real heroes of the Army, but really, it’s probably not that far from the truth. Rock on, officers’ wives. You all are pretty, you’re good moms, and your houses are great. And don’t let anybody, including yourselves, tell you any different.

*Diet tip: to avoid eating a lot, wear a skirt with a really tight waistband like I did. The discomfort literally prevents you from eating so much.

Goodbye, Myspace Blog

2008-12-03T12:01:00.000-08:00

Dear Myspace Blog,
I really loved you at one time. Most of my friends were active on you in one form or fashion, and my blog got some readers because I had so many myspace friends. (Honestly, I think it might have helped that I was single. Marriage hasn't been kind to me in terms of blog readership). Plus myspace was so easy to format and just very user friendly.

Now it's feeling like I'm talking to myself out there. I'll still keep up the blog on myspace, but I can't help but think that this crosslinking my posts is really a waste of time.

So for now it's adios myspace blog, hello Blogspot!

p.s. If anyone knows secrets for making my blog look better, let me know. I am still basically a luddite at heart.

The BEST Pulled Pork Sandwich

2008-11-20T08:10:00.000-08:00

My mom used to make this amazing pulled pork. Turns out I can make something that tastes just as good using a crock pot and a whole lotta liquid smoke (which is not some nasty chemical -- it's the collected, distilled water they get from burning a bunch of hickory chips. So it's like charcoal-y water).

I gave some to an Army Sergeant from Arkansas. He loved it and said it reminded him of pulled pork you could get at a shack these black folks had run for generations way out in the middle of nowhere in Arkansas. Never have I recieved such a compliment! And a friend asked me for the recipe after trying it, so I'll share this with you too. Please, by all means, experiment with it and let me know what you come up with!

Heather's Not-So-Famous-But-Maybe-Should-Be Pulled Pork.
Ingredients:
1 nice Pork Shoulder (3-4 pound size)
1/2 bottle (5 ounce size) Hickory Liquid Smoke1
1/2 cup ketchup, divided
1/4 cup whole grain mustard
1 cup brown sugar
1 clove garlic, finely minced
1/2 teaspoon each: salt and pepper
Reserved broth
2 packages hamburger buns
Your favorite BBQ sauce (I like Jack Daniels original)
Couple dashes Worchestershire Sauce
Coleslaw to serve on the side
Mayo for buns

Directions:Place pork shoulder in a crockpot (fat side up) and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Add liquid smoke, 1/2 cup ketchup, spices, and mustard. Cover and cook on low 8-10 hours. Do NOT open the lid at all during the cooking process.

At 8-10 hours, check meat w/ meat thermometer and make sure it's done. Set aside to cool. Save juices from pot and separate broth from fat.
Mix in the reserved broth, 1 cup ketchup and brown sugar in medium bowl.
Pull the meat into shreds for the BBQ, using a fork if the meat's too hot. Place in pot on stove and pour the broth mixture over meat. Put in several generous squirts of BBQ sauce and a couple dashes of Worchestershire sauce. Stir it up till it's nice and warm. Serve on steamed (NOT toasted) buns, lightly coated with mayo on one side. Side of coleslaw is recommended.

Serve with love! (Love is the secret ingredient.)

Letter About Dreams, Horseback Riding on Mount Ranier

2008-11-15T08:24:00.000-08:00

Hi you.

Things have been crazy. Bona fide certifiable.

I hope you're well. Miss hearing from you. I had a dream you were working with me at this coop which was under construction. We were involved in some big media start-up venture. It was all very exciting. But the place was haunted by this ghost that you and I both saw.

Did you know that when you dream about houses or buildings, apparently the building represents your mind? So if you dream of construction, it means there's new growth and new ideas forming in your head. But apparently I have a ghost in my mind. Also, I've heard that everyone you dream represents a different facet of your own personality, so if you ask your dream friend a question, you're asking it of yourself. I personally think that sounds a bit egotistical. What do you think?

I miss LA really bad. I was listening to America on the radio and that "Horse with no name" song reminds me of running out in that arroyo in S. Pasedena where that horse ranch is. Did you know the rangers in the parks there ride horses? It's so cool.

Yesterday I went horseback riding way up in the mountains on these trails. It was terribly cold and rainy. I was wearing an Underarmor long-sleeve shirt, a fleece sweatshirt, a waterproof jacket and a down vest, a hat, jeans, waterproof pants, wool socks, hiking boots, and roping gloves made out of kangaroo skins (yeah... not so animal friendly I guess) and I still was cold. But the scenery was beautiful. It was way up by Mount Ranier and the fall leaves were all orangey and red and the drops of water looked like crystal on everything. My horse was named Desperado. There was this point at which we were coming down this steep precipice and the trail was very muddy and slippery, and Desperado nearly fell down and he sat on the ground, and somehow I stayed in the saddle. I felt like such a horsegirl.

Please tell me about you. Something besides work and relationships and such.

For some reason I really love this email. I'm reposting it as a blog.

Miss you,

Heather

City of God and Other Brilliant Movies

2008-11-04T08:17:00.000-08:00

City of God (2002) Portugese with English subtitles.

I had heard about this movie, but only here and there. No one looked me in the eye and said, "See this movie. See it or I can't be your friend anymore." And I don't really understand that. It's about a boy named Rocket growing up in the gangs of Cidade de Deus (City of God), and one of the other kids from the city Lil Dice, who later becomes Lil Ze -- the worst bad guy in the City of God, and possibly in movie history. He is a very, very bad guy. A gang war starts, Rocket gets a camera, and the movie captures it all so poetically. It's tragic and brilliant and the cinematography is breathtaking. MUST SEE. A+

Full Metal Jacket (1987)
WORSE STILL is that I only saw this movie for the first time a couple of months ago. How did that happen? I really don't understand how I missed seeing it. This is now my favorite Stanley Kubrick movie besides The Shining, and it's stunning to me how the same director could do arguably the best horror movie and also arguably the best war movie. How did he do it? I don't know.

Full Metal Jacket is a two-part affair, from the point of view of a Marine cadet named Joker (Matthew Modine). First we see the dehumanizing effects of training on the soldiers, specifically the tragic consequences for poor Gomer Pyle (Vincent D'Onofrio). It's tragic, but it's also extremely funny. The drill sergeant is outrageous. The second half of the film takes place during the Tet offensive in Vietnam. For those of you who have seen this movie, I haven't really got any great pearls of wisdom about it. This review is just saying to my readers, please, please, don't be like me. Don't wait years and years to see this movie. Watch it now. Brilliant. MUST SEE. A+

We Were Soldiers (2002)
A good war flick, starring Mel Gibson. The scene where the soldiers' wives have to give the bad news letters to the other wives made me weepy. It's sentimental and misty-eyed, the opposite of Full Metal Jacket, and most would say not as good. But still an enjoyable and emminently watchable movie and I recommend it. I give it an A- because I like war movies and am a sentimentalist.

The Last King of Scotland (2006)
I saw this movie at the wrong time. I saw it after it won numerous awards and all my friends really talked it up. I had very high expectations, and it was a little disappointing to me, though I would say on the whole it's a great movie. I also have to disclaim that mutilation scenes really, really bother me, so the part with the hacked up body was not ok. Also, I found it really annoying that Mr. Scrawny Scottish Hotpants (James McAvoy) sort of barged into a very stupid situation, got in way over his head, and then expected everyone to bail him out. But I guess he didn't exactly get off scotsfree, so to speak. Haha. Anyway, yeah, it's a good movie and you should probably see it if you haven't, but don't be like me and expect it to be as good as Full Metal Jacket or City of God, because it isn't even close. B+

And hopefully that's enough movies to keep you out of trouble for awhile!

INCREDIBLY Delicious: Cherry Tamarind Pork Tenderloin

2008-11-03T08:20:00.000-08:00

As you probably know, pork tenderloin is the filet mignon of pork. But even a filet mignon can use a twist now and then. If you want a reasonably easy dinner that tastes remarkably high end, try my recipe that I invented last night.

I started with a 1.5 pound tenderloin, which is a little larger than the 100% perfect tenderloin should be, but ensures some delicious leftovers. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Next, take Tom Douglass's "Pork Rub" and rub the pork generously. Place pork in a square, glass baking dish. Next, take two cans of Oregon brand tart cherries. (NOT pie filling -- the cherries). Drain one can and set aside the juice. Use the cans of cherries to make a fabulous pie according to the recipe on the inside of the can, if you like. Take the drained juice from one can, and put in a sautee pan, along with one tbsp cornstarch, and 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon Tamco tamarind sauce, according to taste. Stir constantly over medium heat until sauce thickens, about 4 minutes. Once the sauce is thick, pour it over the tenderloin, making sure to cover the exposed skin. This keeps your tenderloin juicy. (Since it's incredibly lowfat, it has a tendency to dry out. This is also why to cook it at a higher temp for a shorter time rather than slowroasting it).

Pop the pork in the oven for about 30 to 40 min. Remove from oven when meat thermometer inserted into thickest part reads 145 degrees.

Enjoy your pork. My side dish was a green salad and Zataran's long grain wild rice. Start it right after you put in the pork and the timing should be about perfect. Surprisingly delicious. And with the pie... what an incredible dinner!

Happy cooking!

Point Defiance: BEST Park in the Northwest

2008-11-01T08:28:00.000-07:00

I love walking down at Point Defiance. The garden area with the roses and hydrangeas and duck pond and pagoda are beautiful, but better still is the long, long waterfront walk. I went there the other day with Alex and we saw seals diving and playing in the water. A baby seal popped its head up above the surface and stared at me for a long time. Its dark eyes were like a playful, shy child's. I returned its gaze and looked forward to the next time I can dive and be under the water like him.

That same night, we saw two beautiful egrets at the water's edge. One flew away upon seeing us. The other just shifted down the beach a bit. It seemed to meditate as it was standing there, though I imagine the main thought in its mind was, "Fish?" I envy that kind of focus and clear sense of purpose. An egret's purpose: fishing. A seal's purpose: fishing, and playing. A Heather's purpose: that's a bit hazy. Bringing delight and innovation to people everywhere? Um, sure.

Alex saw a fox at Point Defiance. I wish I had seen the fox too. I'd love to see a fox in the wild.

Tacoma is so much nicer than I thought it would be from my limited previous experiences of just passing it by on I-5. I just wish my friends were here. I am starting to meet people but it doesn't replace the 12 years of making friends in Seattle. I miss everyone today.

Superfunds in Tacoma

2008-09-30T08:31:00.000-07:00

I'll start with the bad news. Superfunds. Yes, those big, toxic nasties that you hear about? Well, they're real and they are right in our backyard. there's a big superfund site from toxic company ASARCO in the town of Ruston, better known as the place just west of Tacoma near my beloved Point Defiance. Ruston seems like a great place, but this smelter created tons of toxic waste. The company causing the problem is now in Chapter 11 (of course), and they're literally building condos on the site of the superfund, saying that that portion of the land has been successfully reclaimed. I'd never seen a superfund before, so tonight after work, I drove down there.

It's weird to see something that you know is dangerous intellectually, but where you're unable to see the danger. Sure there's environmental impact signs everywhere and chain link fence, and "Private Property" notices -- but that'd be the same at any construction site. Maybe what scared me the most was the cheerful sign that said "Welcome to Point Ruston!" and the fact that there's a huge sign reading "Condos! For Sale NOW!!" What's really scary is how normal and everyday it looks. What's scary is that people are going to buy those condos and maybe not really understand what happened there. It's scary that that must happen all the time. It's scary that the only reason I know about it is because I'm a little obsessed with the history of this beautiful place I happen to be living, and I love researching these little mysteries.

And why did I get so obsessed with Tacoma history, already? Because it's a wonderful place. As someone once said, "Scoffers may scoff and be damned." I mean it -- it's gorgeous here. Commencement Bay gazes back serenely whenever I look to the north. There are so many old, lovely homes. There's a real sense of community here. I think I really like it.
I had my housewarming and my neighbors came. The across the street neighbors brought a big ceramic fish filled with pepperoncini, and an amazing fresh tomato and basil salad with veggies fresh-picked from the garden. The next-door neighbors like cats and offered to catsit for us. I think I can live with that.

Other exciting news: I go to Point Defiance about every other day. It is the coolest park ever. It's got the pretty coastline and internal beauty similar to Stanley Park in Vancouver, but it has also has a zoo, rose garden, beautiful pagoda (where I insist on planning weddings at some point), an old Fort, and a logging camp. Everyone is invited to come ride the Santa train with Alex and me at Christmas, and to take a tour of the Zoo Lights, which are supposed to be beautiful.

My big news: Friday is my last day at work, so I'm looking for a new job. I'm really looking forward to a little time off.

Other news: I'm planning on doing a lot more hiking! These hour-long walks at Point Defiance are inspiring me. I'm also interested in trying camping. If you have gear you want to get rid of, let me know.

I'm just really enjoying life lately. I like being that lady that walks forever along the shores of Salmon Beach, and the lady that knows where the superfund is.

Book Reviews: Lunar Park, Prep, Good Omens, My Soul to Keep

2008-09-16T08:35:00.000-07:00

Some book reviews. You should probably read more, you know?

Good Omens by Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman
I really loved Neil Gaiman's book American Gods and so I went on to read Coraline (cute, not nearly creepy enough) and Anansi Boys (slick in a way that intrigued me a little but annoyed me more than intrigued). I came away from those three books thinking, "I like Neil Gaiman. He's the kind of author I like." But having read only one of Terry Pratchett's novels (the first of the Discworld series), I knew Terry Pratchett was the kind of author I do not like. I even had a thought that reading the coauthored Good Omens might associate Gaiman and Pratchett in a way that would put me off Gaiman for good. And I fear that's what's happened.

Good Omens is funny, I suppose. In a trying-way-too-hard, "aren't we so very, very English and very, very clever, and ever so impressed with ourselves!" sort of way. In short, it's this book about the Apocalypse, and it's supposed to be funny, and it reminded me of drinking a soda which doesn't totally suck but which you realize about two sips through is way too sweet and why did you decide to get a damned Orange Crush anyway?? and you don't really want it but you already bought it and well, you can't really just dump the crap out where you're at so you take unenthusiastic sips and think how it's just another 250 cal you have to work off and another little bit of tooth decay and by the end it's flat and your tummy hurts and you just can't stand Terry Pratchett.

Lunar Park by Bret Easton Ellis
Amazing! Page turner + literary genius + creepy as all HELL. I cannot recommend this book enough. I ignored everything else in my life until I finished this book. As a result, I hardly noticed the fact that I moved to Tacoma. It just sort of happened in between slipping away to go read.
Briefly, it's a semi-autobiographical supernatural horror with strong ironic awesomeness. Wait till you get to the plot summary of Teenage P-. I laughed out loud really uproariously on the train. And then I almost started laughing later the same day in court, on the record, remembering how the narrator couldn't concentrate because he kept thinking about Teenage P-. Read it. Read the book now. And then if you want you can come talk to me about it at my beloved Nerd Out! bookclub, which will be October 12. This book goes on my list of favorites, which I'm starting right now.

My Soul to Keep by Melanie Wells
This was a quick little read and I feel kind of stupid for having read it. It wasn't really that great. However, I mention it in case you want to have a little mental break and read about some psychology professor who discovers that demons were somehow involved in the kidnapping of her friend's little boy. It's like watching The Closer or one of those shows. My Soul to Keep is entertaining, but the romantic line completely falls flat and the Christian overtones might annoy some readers.

Prep by Curtis Sittenfield
This portrayal of prep school culture and teenage insecurity is definitely making it to my unofficial list of favorite books. Having survived an incredibly snobby school in my high school years, it rang very true. I won't say this is a happy-go-lucky feel-gooder where you get a tear and say, "Wow, those days were really something, weren't they?" But if you're me, you'll say, "That's right. The good, the bad, and oh, GOD, the ugly was in me and everybody else."

So, read Prep and Lunar Park. Let me know what you think. Especially Lunar Park. By the way, Lunar Park would be a great choice for Halloween. Go buy it and read it and love it, please.

Thanks for reading!

Tacoma, Ellen DeGeneres, Monkeys

2008-09-03T15:33:00.000-07:00

Last night, we finished moving into our two bedroom craftsman in Tacoma. With our things in it, the vibe has switched markedly from somewhat creepy to mostly homey. I love it. We still don't know where to put the tv. Apparently they didn't think about tvs when they designed homes in 1930.

I had somewhat troubled dreams. The Tacoma version of Ellen DeGeneres was showing me around the Point Defiance zoo, saying how ridiculous people were for not getting how cool Tacoma is. She pointed at the monkeys and shook her head, saying, "See? Just as cool as Seattle monkeys."

I thought the neighbors would be a little nicer in our beautiful neighborhood. So far, only one neighbor has said hi to me. I live across the street from an older man who drives a Subaru Outback and has an immaculate garden in front of his huge colonial-style house. You think he'd say hi, welcome to the neighborhood, right? Wrong. He looked towards my general direction and glared a little, then walked into his house without even waving. However, a local five-year-old drove up to me on his tricycle, abruptly shouted "HI!," and then pedalled away as quickly as his little legs would pump. The welcome wagon it was not, but it beats the neighbors by Marcus's place who welcome you by furtively smoking crack and leaving greasy nacho containers in your yard.

I drove to work to day... only took about 40 minutes and on the way I listened to "Guns, Germs & Steel." I love the drive to my new house, actually. As I get off my exit in North Tacoma I see the port on the right side, and as I pass through Old Town, it makes me feel like I live in a small harbor town. It's beautiful.

Things are good!

Kayaking the Arboretum

2008-08-26T21:57:00.000-07:00

Alex and I kayaked in the Arboretum this weekend. We rented from the Aqua Verde Cafe & Paddle Club (I'd always rented from UW in the past and found Aqua Verde to be just as good. I'll have to compare rates).

The Arboretum is beautiful on foot, but even more so by kayak. The lagoons glimmer green in the We wandered amongst lily pads and dragonflies, ducks, and a lone egret stalking some fish. We were on our way back near Montlake cut, when the sky opened and we got drenched. The rain plastered my hair to my skull and we paddled through the choppy water in the cut, yelling, "1-2-3-4, I love Marine Corps!" to keep time.

Rain or no rain, I love it! More kayaking to come!

Prospects on the Proctor District

2008-08-26T12:23:00.000-07:00

Last night we took a trip down to our new place in Tacoma. It's right in between Old Town and the Proctor District, which are both nice, old fashioned neighborhoods. Proctor District reminds me a bit of Wallingford or the Admiral District in West Seattle. The neighborhood is quiet and pretty, and most of our neighbors have flags. I want a flag too.

Our house is a 1930 craftsman, with sage-green painted wood. It's all one floor except for the requisite creepy basement. There long, awkwardly shaped front room has a great view of Commencement Bay. The house is quaint, but it has that slightly-off feel that old homes sometimes get. It's been remodeled somewhat, but obviously in a fairly hurried manner. The new walls make strange shapes in the rooms. The "office" is tiny and oppressive feeling, so I'm trying to scope out a way I can do my writing in the front room. The kitchen window overlooks the stairway to the basement instead of outside. I wonder if plants would improve the situation? We were dismayed to learn that there's no dishwasher, so I'm going to be hand washing dishes all winter long. There's no fireplace either. That really bums me out. This winter could be depressing -- moving away from my friends in Seattle to live in an old house in Tacoma with no dishwasher and no fireplace.

We went to dinner at a place called Knapp's. It's one of those classic places that's been around for 70 years. You'd think in that amount of time you'd learn to cook a steak. Alex had the surf n' turf, and his medium rare steak was medium well. It was actually pretty gross. My salad was frozen, the meatloaf so-so, the service was pretty terrible. The only saving graces of dinner was the baked potato, though actuallymy sour cream was frozen, so I take that back. Dessert, however, was great: the coconut cream pie was fresh and delicious and very coconutty.

We stopped by the Metropolitan Market and the Safeway. The vibe I got was that eventually we could call this area home. It'll probably be o.k.

The Perfect Party: Basics & A Little Spice

2008-08-12T07:50:00.000-07:00

Every party, no matter how elaborate its trappings, has some essential basics. You can have a pretty good party without these elements, but it will never be an amazing party. The items are remarkably simple, but unfortunately quite easy to get wrong, which is why planning is crucial.

Any amazing party will ensure that there are:

1) Good people
2) Good drinks
3) Good food
4) Good music
5) Optional (particularly if you have at least three of the above): Entertaiment

If you don't have one or more of the top four, prepare for your party to be anything from average to abysmal. But notice that none of these things has to be incredible or amazing for the party will

HOW NOT TO PARTY:
I went to a dinner party very recently, and it was a nice effort on the hostess's part. Homemade dinner, some alternative satellite radio station playing in the background, and a group of friends -- actually, two groups of friends brought together. And honestly, it was an o.k. party. How could this party have been amazing? Skip the weird orzo 'n squid casserole or whatever tf that was supposed to be. Baked chicken legs (legs only -- no white meat?) with nothing but olive oil for flavor? No! And NO BOILED VEGETABLES. Ever. Mushy and tasteless should never, ever describe anything at your party, much less the food. And even more important, the people, while they may have been great, were not getting to know each other. That's an important aspect of hosting a great party. Introduce your friends and acquaintances to each other. Let them mingle. This is very often neglected. So we were all talking to the people we already knew and not to anyone else. It was pretty boring.

Later the host (a lawyer) told a story about a child molestation case that he hadn't even worked on. That's when the orzo squid decided it just wasn't sitting right in my stomach and I needed to make a hasty exit. The party was breaking up anyway. Moral: avoid talking about disgusting subject matter like child molestation at a dinner party. If it's hard to grasp the why on this one, you may want to read up on a book like Miss Manners to get some ideas about basic social skills.

What could they have done? Put spice on the chicken. Spicy (but maybe not too spicy) is more fun. Always err on the side of spicy in your party planning.

If you follow the above advice, your parties will be nothing short of amazing, every time.

NEXT UP: More parties!

Movie Reviews: The Happening, Hancock, WALL-E

2008-07-13T08:38:00.000-07:00

Tonight I thought I'd write some movie reviews interspersed, or even nestled, amongst some little tidbits about my personal life. Saving the best for last, we would of course start with the M. Night Shamalayan piece of shit that I was stupid enough to spend money and 90 minutes on... The Happening: Wow, it sucks. Not that I'm surprised. M. Night Shamalayan is the watchword for not-worth-watching, unless you're re-watching The Sixth Sense, which is permitted. So, The Happening should be called "When Trees Do Even Worse Things to You than Cause Hayfever, and It's Not So Much Scary as Really Annoying, and Even Mark Wahlberg Cannot Make the Insipid Dialogue Work."

Speaking of hayfever, I've got it bad. The 20-40 kleenex per hour (kph) kind, three kinds of allergy medecine at once, the kind where I have to breathe through my mouth for fear of upsetting my pathetic nostrils kind of hayfever. It's funny how it always coincides with the really hot weather. So it's 85 degrees and I don't have AC, and if I open the window it just lets in more filthy pollinated air which will kill me if I allow it to. If I were a magazine centerfold, perhaps my turn-ons list would be something like this: Hepa-filtered, anything hypoallergenic, air conditioning, non-drowsy antihistamines. Turn offs: Dextromethorphane, dust mites, grass, and picnics in the park.

Hancock: A run-of-the-mill Will Smith action movie. Which means that it was pretty good -- never terrible or amazing. It starts of very well and then just kind of ... meh? Charlize Theron plays a superhero too. What I don't get is why, when she goes into superhero mode, does that necessarily mean she has to wear so much additional eye shadow?

I watched the previous two movies with Alex in Aruba. So I was in an amazing place with my husband and we went to see two mediocre at best movies, but it was good because it was so nice just to relax and not have to worry about a thing. The one I watched today, WALL-E, was with Marcus at Pacific Place cinemas. We went to the movie theater just so I could escape the disgusting plant sex and microscopic dust mites that are plaguing me. And I wound up inadvertantly seeing a very good movie.

WALL-E: This movie is really great. It's got the dystopian nightmare scenario that I love, AND Robot Romance. It's one of the very, very few really interesting movies I've seen lately. Go Pixar!!

Alex is in Yakima for his job, which is prepping 3500 National Guardsmen for deployment to Iraq. He's a JAG lawyer, which means that sometimes he's doing desk work like a regular lawyer, but other times he's out shooting bad guys with machine guns and rescuing people from hostile territory by helicopter and infiltrating terrorist hotspots, where he wears a wire to collect evidence to get those terrorists! It's awesome. And then the rest of the time, he just really helps out these poor dudes who have to go to Iraq by getting them wills and helping them sort out their child custody/divorce issues, and other uber important stuff. So, I'm supposed to go to Yakima for a few days this week for my birthday. "Happy Birthday" and "Yakima" don't really seem to go together, but what can you do?

So, July. Really important month for me. Alex is in Yakima for the rest of the month, which is terrible. My biggest plans for July are to deal with all the wedding stuff, all the thank you cards, name change documentation, moving from Marcus's place, putting stuff in storage, and prepping to rent Alex's condo, and looking for a new place for us to move --all of this On My Own. I hate it. Newlyweds should not have to do this alone. But, me having things the way I want them isn't always good for me is it?

Besides dealing with the above stuff, I have a couple of other projects going on. I'm helping Ben & Libbe with their wedding, and I'm considering auditioning for some plays and movies, and I'm getting back into working out. I signed up for a half marathon for Labor Day weekend. Things are just humming along. It's basically the usual. Except I'm married now. It's
different, it really is, but I'm not sure why.

More will be revealed.

Ain’t no sunshine

2008-07-06T11:16:00.000-07:00

It's 47 degrees in Seattle. This is not the record coldest; that was a high of 40 degrees in 1924. This summer reminds me of the summer of 1997. That summer, it was still cold well into June. I was working at the Pierce County Prosecutor's office as an intern. I would take the hour-long bus ride and then walk up the huge hill to the courthouse in Tacoma, shivering in my penny loafers and suits bought in North Carolina. What a strange summer. And now, 11 years later, I'm preparing for a wedding here in Seattle. I never thought I'd be doing this. I can't believe I've put up with this weather for so long.

Here's the sort of thing that gets me through: today I'm breaking in a pair of silvery Betsey Johnson shoes, with this cluster of cheery golden crystals on them that almost make me feel like it's sunny outside. They make me feel like a raindrop goddess.

I have some thoughts about maintaining passion. I spoke to my colleague Mark Tackitt today; he's an attorney who does conflict cases for the Office of Public Defense, so he does essentially the same job as I do, except as a solo practitioner. His hobby is civil war reenactment, which he's been doing for over 12 years. I asked how he keeps his interest in his hobby fresh, and he indicated that he tries to work to make everything as close to how it really was as possible, and that this is a very difficult thing to do. He also tries to do better and better events. Soon he'll be going to Gettysburg for a march that he's leading. See http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LnppcGNvbi5uZXQvfnNpbGFzL2FuZGVyc2J1cmdtYXJjaC5odG0=

I'm going to try to do that to maintain interest in my passions. It's partly about keeping things as close to your artistic vision as possible, and try to make every "event" better than the last.

Right now my event is, of course, the wedding. I'm working hard and I think it's all coming along. The main things I need to do now are to design the programs, select paper for them and the favor tags, and figure out how much of each beverage we need. And there's a number of other easier to dos (call florist back with updates, bridesmaid gifts, pick up rings, pick up dress, get it cleaned, things like that), but I'm actually pretty happy with the way it's all coming along. I think everything really will be o.k. But anyway, I decided that there were some parts of the vision that could be compromised for the sake of economy (I didn't really need a photo booth, for example), and others that simply could not (I HAD to have terra cotta pots for the floral centerpieces-cum-favors that I'm making. Pastel baskets with checks wouldn't do. I actually had to fire this woman who was going to make them because she couldn't get that it had to be terra cotta pots with pansies and lavendar, not pastel checked baskets with hen and chicks. Sometimes it's difficult to make your vision a reality. I'm just glad my vision was something that is actually pretty doable. It's humbling that my vision is what kind of centerpieces to have on tables at my wedding reception, but that's how it is.

It's freaking cold in my office. Really kinda wishing I were in LA right now.

Aruba Honeymoon

2008-07-03T08:45:00.000-07:00

Yes, I'm blogging from Aruba. I can hardly believe that the wedding is done and Alex and I are getting started on our married life.

We're staying at the Renaissance Hotel in Orangestad, Aruba. It's a four-star place with it's own private island, three beautiful swimming pools, a spa, many, many restaurants. The people working here are undoubtedly the friendliest service people I've ever encountered in my life. The motto in Aruba is "One Happy Island" and it fits really well. It's amazing to see so many cultures come together and blend so well, instead of colliding in strife. Aruba is part of the Dutch Federation, and that influence is prevalent everywhere -- many, many Dutch tourists and Dutch is the official language. However, Aruba has people from over 70 nationalities living here -- and the Spanish influence is especially strong. It's really close to Venezuela and many of the natives predominantly speak Spanish.

So far, we rented a Jeep and went off-roading (yee-haw!) and got a flat (awww!) but got it fixed by some nice latino guy, and it all worked out fine. We went diving several times. We have done a lot of swimming and relaxing and sleeping and everything. You know, it's just as amazing as I always dreamed a honeymoon would be.

Well, I have to go now. The pool calls.
See you soon, Seattle!

What to Do When You Have the Flu

2008-05-15T08:47:00.000-07:00

My brief blog telling you what sucks and what rocks when you have the flu!

Here's what sucks:
The way you feel

Here's what's great:

Dirt
The second season of this fast-paced FX tabloid-centric drama was cut woefully short due to the writer's strike, but the quick-'n-dirty plots with an easy to follow story arch are perfect when you're running a 99 degree fever. If it gets worse, you're going to need something like….

The Dead Girl
This movie reminds you of why it's good to not be a corpse, even if you're pretty sure that the flu is actually going to kill you. I'm not sure the movie has much more meaning beyond that but it's cinematographically fascinating and there are some great performances in it by Toni Colette, Brittany Murphy, and others. And there was a lovely line about trees and sky that got repeated a couple of times. I really liked this movie and I have no idea why.

The Husky Deli Split Pea Soup
Oh my word. I've always been a big fan of the Husky Deli in general. It has all the fancy foreign foods with none of the uppity attitude. Plus the best homemade ice cream in Seattle, and my favoritest deli sandwich, the Turkish Delight (cream cheese, turkey meat, and mango chutney – get it grilled and praise the Lord for its sweet and savory amazingness!). But I've never had the split pea soup until today. It is sooooo good. It's not a murky, grayish-green-brown mush. It's a wonderful soup with wonderful, fresh tasting peas. So creamy and good. Awesome!

Ratatouille
Pixar is awesome for children and sick people. I'm sure other people like it too. Anyway, this is a cute movie about a rat who dreams of being a chef. I liked it, but then again, by this time my fever was up to 101 and my ears hurt which made me need my Spiderman doll.
What else…

The Riches
This show is so good. It's about the Irish "travelers" and their scheming, conning ways. Eddie Izzard and Minnie Driver are so good, even if Izzard's American accent is not 100% believable.

Other Assorted Good Things to Have Around:
The cats!
Bunny slippers
Unlimited liquids
Chicken Soup with Sautéed Garlic
Blankies

Wedding planning and other insanity

2008-04-22T11:19:00.000-07:00

I haven't been blogging. I'm sorry about that. It's just that the wedding takes everything I have. Don't get me wrong: I love planning all the little details that go into one great, special day. But it's taking everything. My free time -- gone. I'm at tastings and fittings and planning and scheming. My money is pretty much all going to the wedding. My mind? It's on the wedding. It's hard right now to talk about much else. I went to a "girl's night out" type of party recently where the topic kept veering to local politics (these are not your average girls, apparently). I kept longing, longing, for someone to talk about weddings instead. I should have a little button that says "ask me about my wedding." So it's high time I blogged about it.

So, I got engaged in late January. Here's what I've gotten done since then: choosing and booking the ceremony location (St. James), the reception (Skansonia), transportation in between (for Alex and me, a Rolls; for the wedding party, a really great, um, van), selected a photographer, got a DJ, found a cake baker, decided the menu, registered for some basic gifts, sent e-save the dates, ordered invitations, bought dress, bought corset lingerie thing and stockings, bought crinoline, did first two rounds of alterations on the dress, commenced Catholic premarital counselling, found bridesmaids, picked out bridesmaids dresses, working on picking out their gifts, helped groom pick out groomsman tuxes, looked at honeymoon options with the groom, began shoe shopping (still haven't decided), found hairstylists for rehearsal dinner and wedding, found florist, discussed and decided on floral design, decided on a color scheme (jewel tones) and stylistic theme (vintage and Art Nouveau-inspired).

What's left to do: rehearsal dinner site, contract for DJ, song list for DJ, buy shoes, personalize invitation envelopes, purchase stamps, address and send invites, purchase and assemble favors, let caterer know food selections, create detailed itineraries for wedding party, get marriage license, decide on honeymoon location and pack for that, figure out where we'll live after marriage (I still reside separately from Alex), pick bridesmaid gifts, create hospitality baskets for out-of-town guests, get addresses for the vast numbers of (inconsiderate) guests who failed to respond to my electronic request, finish our registry, book hotel room for wedding night (if we're not immediatly flying off to the honeymoon), buy a guestbook and nice pen, decide what kind and how much beverages we need and order that for reception, buy a veil, go to bridal shower and bachelorette party.

I can't decide if I totally rock and I'm right on schedule or if I should be panicking a little bit. I guess I'll go with totally rock?

Cook or Baker?

2008-04-06T11:22:00.000-07:00

"Baking has the reputation of being more difficult than cooking -- the specter of chemistry frightens some people. And baking is different from cooking. A great cook may create dishes intuitively, almost casually, working with what is in the larder and refrigerator, tasting and correcting the work in progress. A great cake baker is attentive to technique, details, and timing. Unable to taste, correct, and create along the way, the baker is a stickler for measurements, insistent on proper pan sizes, and fussy about the temperature of everything from the oven to the butter. Because the same ingredients combined in a different order, mixed differently, or even used at different temperatures result in quite different cakes (or failures), good bakers are dedicated to the small things that produce beautiful cakes that taste heavenly." Joy of Cooking by Irma Rombauer et al.

I’m a baker. I love that if you follow the directions it will make something beautiful, like magic. Cooking is unwieldy and uncertain. My sister is one of those geniuses that can take random things from the fridge and turn then into dinner, never following a recipe -- just making it up as she goes along. That’s like hell for me. Give me a fantastic recipe, and I’ll make you a fantastic loaf of bread, dreamy pie, or beautiful birthday cake.

It’s been busy lately, but the kitchen has been calling. I made a beautiful key lime pie for a dinner party recently, and then I made a shoofly pie (a delicious, Pennsylvania Dutch molasses-based pie), a childhood favorite of mine. I cooked recently too, but that’s less interesting. I think I might make something today.... what should I make?

So, are you a cook or a baker? Or neither? What’s the last thing you made?

Travel to Long Beach, Washington

2008-04-04T08:52:00.000-07:00

I wrote this over President’s Day weekend, but never posted. Hope you enjoy hearing about my little trip.

Writing from Long Beach, Washington: It’s a beautiful night. I’m out on the balcony of my 3rd floor room at the Chataqua Lodge Hotel, watching at the sun set into the surf of the Pacific. The frogs sing a jubilant chorus to the setting sun as its afterglow sends gold, peach, fuschia, flamingo pink, daffodil yellow streamers into the cold dome of sky. And to the north and south, mauve, lavender, slate bleed like watercolors into the deeper blue sea.

First – Bases:
Yesterday morning we began our journey. The night before, I couldn’t sleep. My mind was ready to go much, much earlier than my body. I don’t know why I was so excited. I’m a traveler, right? Why so excited about a three hour road trip? Well, whatever the reason, I was, and I made Alex wake up way too early too. The sun had barely risen when we headed south through White Center and Burien and down I-5. We turned west at Camp Murray, and I got to see where he does his JAG thing. I only saw it from the outside – a tiny, unassuming building, but the fact that I didn’t have to walk over any empty meth baggies or broken crack pipes on the sidewalk to get there make it seem luxe compared to my office. We stopped across the street at Gallopin’ Gerties – an old-school diner with a heart of gold. Our waitress was the kindhearted sort of diner waitress that you can’t help but call a "gal." She reminded me of a great photo-essay in a recent issue of Bust which featured diner waitresses. I have a whole new respect for the ladies who can serve coffee and real good food for twenty plus years, always with a smile. She even took my fussy egg-white and veggie omelette order with only an indulgent smile and an "o.k., sweetie."

Next we went to Ft. Lewis, which has always held some strange fascination for me. Maybe I like watching the Army guys going about their business in their green uniforms and bad haircuts. I like going through the gate, the whole feeling like it’s a border crossing. But most importantly, I love to go to the PX, which for most civilians probably either doesn’t ring any bells or if it does, it’s probably a "who cares" reaction. But the PX is amazing. It’s like a huge Target, but there’s no tax on anything. Because of this, I decided to buy a Zune 80 gig mp3 player (I’m still waiting to find out if that was a mistake). Anyway, the most notable thing besides not paying tax was that there was a huge line of people waiting to see some ultimate fighting champion dude named Iceman or something like that. A HUGE line. People we lined up all around the PX, which is like a mall, so it was a mass of people, mostly young enlisted guys. And they waited patiently for this white trash on ’roids looking guy to sign his cheesy-looking book on which he is pictured topless. (You know, for an organization that is not exactly pro-homo, there’s a lot of homoerotic stuff going on with some of these military guys… )

Something else you may not know about the military: not all branches are created equally. For instance, we had to go to McChord AFB because Ft. Lewis was out of the 80 gig Zune but McChord had it. So when we went to the McChord PX, Alex and I ran into this jail guard from King County Jail. He’s a retired Marine guy, wearing his Semper Fi hat. Ass. I fucked with him when I saw him, saying, "Oh, I didn’t know you were retired Air Force." Boy did he get pissed. He then gave Alex crap about being in the Army National Guard. This guy has the IQ of a slow iguana (and the looks of one as well), but was still all prideful about being a Marine. I think that’s my least favorite branch. They seem the most brutish and possibly evil of the branches of the military. But what the hell do I know?
I never thought I’d be an Army wife. But it’s different, right? My guy's an officer, an Army JAG, for gawd’s sake. Not some jarhead. Does that make sense? It’s still weird that I’m marrying into the military, after all those years trying to escape my dad’s military career. (It’s not Freudian, either. Alex has dark hair and my dad is blonde. And Navy, not Army. Seriously.)

Long Beach:
Long Beach is cheesy and touristy, like most seaside towns. It’s better than Ocean Shores – it just seems to have a friendlier vibe. One thing I noticed is that there were a lot of gay tourists out – and gay tourists would seem to have better taste, wouldn’t they? I should probably know better than to speak in such generalities. In any case, it’s pretty nice.

The first night we got there, we realized that we’d forgotten to eat lunch, so we were hungry at about 5:00 p.m. This worked out well for us because we wanted to check out the 42nd St. Café, which was packed with people having late Valentine’s celebrations. We got in right at the time another party had cancelled. For dinner, we ordered the Valentine’s meal, which was a special menu and came with a free pearl choker for me. We started with the fried green tomatoes, which the friendly and fey waiter correctly advised us "they did exceptionally well." Next we had deliciously fresh wild green salads, with exquisite dressings. I particularly liked my dill and feta dressing. For the entrée, Alex had the duck, which was outrageously good. My only fault was the rockfish with pineapple. It was flavorless and weird tasting – the worst rockfish I ever had. I had to ask the waiter to bring me some more of the dill and feta salad dressing to make it edible. Yes, I poured freaking salad dressing on my fish. All was forgiven after I ate dessert. We had the warm blackberry crisp with ice cream, and it was scrumptious.

The Chautauqua Lodge was one of those somewhat run-down, unfashionable beach places. It was clean and the desk help seemed a little white-trashy. I left my favorite sweatpants there, which really upsets me because they were from REI and were so comfy and fuzzy. Sucks. Anyway, the place was so-so – rough sheets, uncomfortable bed, blah décor – but fabulous in how close to the beach it was. Very conducive to daytime adventures and moonlit hikes.

Cape Disappointment Lighthouse & North Head Lighthouse:
These lighthouses at the south end of Long Beach Peninsula are beautiful and very scenic. Cape Disappointment has the distinction of being the oldest functioning lighthouse on the Pacific. However, I didn’t do the tours of them because I’ve already been on a number of lighthouse tours (Heceta Head, Westport, others) but there are excellent hikes around the area that we did and which I highly recommend.

One cool thing about the lighthouses is that there are two of them, because Cape Disappointment is so dangerous that the sea offshore is known as the "Graveyard of the Pacific." Mariners still need a special certification in order to navigate the waters into the mouth of the Columbia River. http://www.funbeach.com/attractions/lighthouse.html

Leadbetter Point Bird Sanctuary:
This beautiful bird sanctuary at the north end of the peninsula is full of amazing views and hikes, and lots of birds. However, it was incredibly muddy and some areas were completely flooded. Unfortunately Alex and I didn’t have our hip waders along with us, so we had to cut our hike short. Which gave us time to go ride horsies on the beach!
Horsies on the Beach!:

There are pics in my photo album. Check it out. So fun.

Pelicano’s:
We heard great things about a restaurant called The Ark, but it apparently closed, so went to new restaurant called Pelicano’s in Ilwaco. Located in the south end of the peninsula, Ilwaco is less touristy and more upscale, featuring a quaint harbor and a relaxed pace of life – kind of like Wallingford crossed with Shilshole. The food was wonderful and reasonably priced considering the quality. Plus, they had one of the best desserts I’ve ever eaten, which was an ice cream "sandwich" made out of baked meringue cookies with pomegranate ice cream in the middle. Yummy yummy yum.

Only downside? The snooty waitress (yeah, waitress. Not server) was of the "aren’t you so lucky that you get to eat here?… you so don’t deserve to be here" type. A side note: we stopped after dinner at this beautiful lake just as we were leaving Ilwaco. The moonlight shining on it was just unreal. So still and perfect and peaceful, with frogs and bugs singing to the moon. I want to leave Seattle and go home, and this could be it.

Long Beach at Night:
First night, we walked along the dunes and up to the ocean, except the ocean looked so huge and alien that I was literally terrified that it was going to turn into a tsunami. I kept a wary eye on it as we made our way along the shore. We saw a fire burning and thought how cool it would be to hang out at the bonfire. We joked that we should just crash the people’s party and just go on up to the bonfire, but as we got closer to the fire, we could see that indeed, there was no one there. We went up to the fire and confirmed the builders of the fire had recently left. We both were uneasy. It felt strange, like an ambush was possible. Why would people build a fire and then just leave? After a time, we found that hanging out at the fire was less pleasant that it originally looked. If we were upwind of the fire, it was cold; downwind was smoky. There was nowhere you could sit comfortably and be close enough to enjoy the warmth of the fire. Plus there was a distinct feeling that we were being watched. We left the mystery fire and went back to the artificial but dependable warmth of our semi-shabby hotel room at the Chautauqua.

The last night in Long Beach, we went for a long, late, moonlit walk on the beach. It was surprisingly mild outside, walking amongst the silvered grass of the dunes, and down to the water. We wandered the beach, trying to figure out what everything was from afar. We had a terrifying moment when we couldn’t figure out what this weird-looking apparition floating out above the water was. Alex said it looked like one of the creatures from War of the Worlds. And to me, suddenly, it was. He was braver than I and went closer to the alien invader to investigate and possibly counterattack. However, the alien suddenly disguised itself very cleverly as a big sign up on a pole. (Why are there signs in the ocean? Who puts signs in the ocean??)

Fort Columbia:
I love how when you fall in love, you find out these wonderful things about your partner, things that they might not have been sure you would be o.k. with but then you wind up loving it. My guy likes, of all things, old forts and battlefields. I am into haunted spaces and forgotten corners, which actually works pretty well with his thing. At all these old sites, there’s enough creepy abandoned stuff to keep my imagination engaged and to make me happy too.

Fort Columbia features abandoned bunkers and observation decks out over the meeting-place of the Pacific and the mighty Columbia, some well-kept and oft-visited by tourists, some overgrown and isolated, even dangerous. We trekked up and down trails, which were actually listed as unpassable. We had to climb over fallen trees. We probably hiked for three hours. It made me want to hike like crazy. Alex makes me want to do everything more. More hiking, more horseback riding, more movies, more symphonies. I want to do it all, with him, over and over again. (I can’t believe I get to marry this guy!)

So now we’ve been to a few of these old military sites. The Civil War trenches at the Shirley plantation on the James River, Virgnina. Fort Worden up in Port Townsend. Friday Harbor British Camp and American Camp (site of the great Pig War – started because a British soldier allegedly shot an American pig. Seriously.) And when I was recently in Hawaii, I went to Pearl Harbor and the U.S. Army Museum of Hawaii. I guess he’s rubbing off on me.

Driving Stick:
Only really notable thing about the ride home is that Alex took us to an abandoned part of Ft. Lewis and gave me a lesson driving stick shift on his Mustang. And that just shows that love makes you do some crazy shit: go to abandoned bunkers, trust your fiancé to drive your sportscar, even really outlandish behavior, like inviting someone to spend your whole life together. Ain’t love grand?

Acting!

2008-02-12T08:59:00.000-08:00

It has been a long time since I wrote anything! Partly this is because I'm spending a lot of time acting in the WARP Production of nine short plays, "Cupid Goes Berzerk." I'm in the short play "Office Hours," playing a hot, manipulative college student with lesbian tendencies. It turns out that I enjoy acting much more than I thought I would. In fact, I love acting and I plan to continue with it. Oh, and if you want to see it, please don't forget that Valentine's Day (Thursday the 14th for those of you living in a cave) is the last chance ever to see it! I would love to have friends there for my last performance.

Here's a short film I acted in. It's a funny little comedy called "Speed Dating." In it, you'll get to see me knock the lights out of my "husband" Mitch Williams (the adorable Marco Kaiser) The lighting is bad and there's no soundtrack yet, but hey, it's a credit for my "reel." ;) Oh, and I also did the make-up -- check out the goth chick. Part 1 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_ZvQrLpgk4 (and Part 2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gYKDGgoaV0A -- which I'm not in, but linked in case you want the exciting conclusion).

My next big project is a short film called "Uncle Fox," which I wrote and hope to co-produce and co-direct.

More to come soon! Stay tuned . . .

Heather Gets Engaged!

2008-01-25T09:01:00.000-08:00

My boyfriend Alex and I had been talking about marriage for the past month or so, though I think we've thought about it for longer than that. We're both getting to the age where we want to have kids and it didn't really make sense to wait anymore. We've known each other a fairly long time and so even though we haven't dated that long, we know each other really well. Add to that the fact that we fell deeply in love, and it made sense that we should get engaged.

But even though I knew it might happen in the future, I didn't think it would be so soon. This past MLK weekend, Alex told me to dress up because we were going out someplace nice. That afternoon I got my hair done and wore a semi-formal gown (worn only once before at my friend Lara's wedding -- maybe it's good luck?). He was very secretive and gave me no clue as to what he had planned. That night, he took me out to Seattle's premier French restaurant, Rover's. We had this outrageously good eight-course meal, and right before the dessert course, he popped the question. Before I could answer, the waiter brought the dessert course and seeing the ring, gasped and said he'd give us a couple moments alone (gee, thanks guy!) After the waiter left, I said, "I haven't answered your question yet, have I?" He replied, "No you haven't," while smiling at me nervously. I waited a couple of moments, and said, "Yes, of course." Interestingly enough, Judge Veronica Alicia Galvan, who pro tems in Seattle Municipal Court where Alex and I used to work, was also dining at Rover's that night and saw Alex propose. So she (and the waiter) got the news before anyone else!

When Alex put the ring on my finger, I just about died of happiness. It's a beautiful diamond ring with an lovely ideal cut center stone, two smaller side stones, and a pave band. It's absolutely perfect and I love it! Oh, and I have to add that it's certified conflict free -- no blood diamonds here!

After that, Alex told me our night wasn't done, and he took me to the Seattle Symphony. Neither of us had been to Benaroya Hall, so it was a very wonderful experience. I have to add that a symphony is the perfect thing to do immediately after a proposal. The music was romantic, but we didn't have to follow a dialogue and could just get swept up in the music and the moment. Plus the low light of Benaroya is perfect for admiring the fire in your brand-new diamond ring!

And the icing on the cake: Alex told me to pack for two days, but didn't tell me where we were going. The day after he proposed, we hopped in his Mustang and got on the ferry to Bainbridge... turns out, we were going to Port Townsend. We stayed at the historic Belmont Hotel and enjoyed a beautiful, sunny weekend together.

*sigh* If only real life were always like this!I've been floating on a cloud ever since and I am so excited to get married. Particularly since it's to Alex, my true love.

Things I Haven't Said Yet

2007-10-09T09:04:00.000-07:00

Pearl S. Buck on being creative:
"The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: a human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create – so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, just pour out creating. By some strange, inward urgency, he is not really alive unless he is creating."

Now for some things I forgot to say or haven't said yet.
Things I forgot to say about plants:
The shrubs in the Arroyo Canyon showed me something about myself. Many of the same plants that flourish in Seattle would quickly shrivel and die in the southern California heat. But by the same token, some of the plants doing so well in LA would rot and grow black mold in the damp air of the Pacific Northwest. I am no shrinking violet, hiding from life in the shade. I am not an evergreen, either. I generally dislike the cold and I avoid winter sports. I am not a rose bush, requiring excessive pampering in order to thrive, though I'll take it when I can get it. I am a Heather. I will grow where I am planted. Each transplant takes something out of me but leads to new growth.

Things I never said about Maryland:
We moved to a farm in southern Maryland. I was eight and nine years old and I rode my bike down country lanes, past the farm where the Amish father drove a three horse team, past the other farm with the Brown Swiss cows looking forlorn with their liquid eyes. It was hot there in the summer, and the roads were dusty and dry. I rode through the inches of red dust, avoiding copperheads and crossing over culverts, to visit Little Jim and the other horses that livednearby. However, even though I liked dreaming and playing outside by myself, I also got a lot out of playing with other kids. I liked hosting events even then. Each summer I had my July birthday party, featuring hot dogs and hamburgers, ice cream cakes, and movies shown in our cool, dim basement. I always liked some boy. (Then, it was Scott. I was the only girl he invited to his birthday party. I got a bad sunburn because we all swam like crazy and played Marco Polo and I was very fair-skinned). I still nearly always like some boy but they are distracting and I have to watch out or they'll pull my hair.

Things I never said about Mississippi:
We moved back to southern Mississippi (a fun state to spell and to live in) to a part of the Gulf Coast that has since been completely destroyed by Katrina. My old house doesn't exist anymore. Back then, when I was ten years old, there was an old estate that had been abandoned after the plantation mansion blew down during Hurricane Camille. The lot was overgrown and then it seemed vast and mysterious. Daffodils still sprouted up in the spring, because no one told them that the garden was no more. In the sweltering heat, I climbed magnolias, had my feet stung by fireants, and scratched bites left by a million mosquitoes. I dreamed of the family that used to live there and their charmed life in the mansion.

And I still loved boys. I fell for Paul Gardener, who played Alexander Graham Bell in the school play. He sang this song that went "Dot-Dash-Dash-Dot" and he was a born star. I bet years later he went on tour with members of Wire. So ahead of his time.

My favorite pasttime was going down to the gulf and wading out for what seemed to be miles on the soft golden sand, the water barely reaching my knees some days.

Things I never said about Montana:
We moved to Montana when I was 11. We owned some 200 acres of land up in the mountains. I didn't really like the other kids at my school, so I retreated more and more into books and writing and making up elaborate fantasies about how amazing my life was going to be someday. I thought about it while I rode horses around in the fields. I took a million melancholy walks through the aspen-filled western section of the forest. (All those things people say about the cathedral of the forest, well, it felt like God was hiding everywhere.) I would wander around for hours and dream and dream. Sometimes I thought I would marry the beautiful Jamie Boyer from up north in Eureka (unfortunately, he was an Aries, so it was destined for failure), and resign myself to life in a small town. Or I'd marry Pat Triplett, a local cowboy who was too old for me, and we'd travel across the country togetherm and he'd be the 1 champion rodeo man in the country, which would somehow help me become a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader and a Doctor.

My favorite story for a long time was about Steve Howe from the band GTR. At the time, I was really into prog rock like Yes, Asia, Toto, and GTR (which featured members of my then-favorite Yes). Never mind the fact that he was already 40 years old or so and I was 12. I developed some pretty elaborate schemes for how I was going to meet Steve; I would win some national photography competition and get sent to New York, where I'd meet someone whose mom worked in the music business and she'd get us backstage passes to GTR, and then I'd meet this guy and he'd undoubtedly realize that we were meant to be together, and we'd agree that we would need to wait to get married until I was legally able to have sex with him.

That's the way I thought: if you can dream it, it could happen. It might need a bizarrely convoluted plot to get you there, but it could happen. (To tell you how much I liked this guy, I actually wanted to get my hair thinned so it would look like his. Now that's devotion.)

Lastly:
Here is something you may want to know about me: I still love being outside by myself, and my fantasy life is still AMAZING.

Los Angeles, I'm Yours

2007-09-30T09:08:00.000-07:00

I have the above-titled Decemberists song stuck in my head. That song is actually not a celebration of Los Angeles, but a sort of ironically melancholy lovesong. But here in Seattle, exhausted and... grey-feeling, I sing it, meaning it, without irony. It's raining and cold and grey and miserable and damp, and it reminds me of that September when I first moved here eleven years ago, and it rained for months on end. What a terrible winter that was. None have been that bad since, but winter in Seattle is just not a good thing. So Los Angeles was a welcome change. The sun shone in soft golden rays that actually warmed me up, unlike the pathetically weak grayish rays that suffice as "sunshine" in wintertime Seattle.

Should I just say I had a great time in L.A.? O.k., I had a great time. But maybe you're more detail-oriented than that. Maybe you want to know exactly what went down. I'm going to tell you. Everything. (You already know that's a lie, don't you? I have many secrets…) I'm going to give you the PG version, o.k.? Read between the lines or don't, up to you.

Tuesday, Wednesday (South Pasadena):
My first night: warm air and car fumes waiting for the shuttle to EZ Rental. I could feel excitement shimmying down the cement pylons and up my spine, adventures waiting to happen. L.A. is waiting for me to live it.

I had my first experience driving the L.A. freeways, going from LAX to Pasadena at night. I was so thoroughly freaked out at the prospect of driving that I found it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be.

Dave Stone's house is in South Pasadena. The night was much quieter than where I live in West Seattle, and palm trees swayed in time with orange-scented breezes, dancing with their deciduous partners. Dave's room is cozy and dry, nestled in a rooftop, and featured a couple of great Beatles posters. We had delicious noodles at a place in Chinatown… I wish I could remember the name of it. We went back to Dave's place. I like Tosh; he's a fancy Japanese dog. I think Lily is maybe an Aries; I know she's part Chow and she scares me because she barks a lot and stinks. Dogs are fun, but they are very smelly and dirty. I was talking with a friend in L.A. about how I'm going to write a book called, "The Problem with Dogs." It was really funny at the time.

Anyway, the next day, we drove back to Chinatown and looked around. We checked out a cool artsy shop called Ooga Booga. We went to Old Town Pasadena. It's got an H&M, where I did a little damage. I seem to be powerless over jewel tones. This season it's sapphire and teal. Last season it was violet and plum. What next? Don't worry; I won't do something horrible, like wear yellow.

Griffith Park: Just as cool as I remember from before, except that I'm not a 26 year old idiot (I'm a wizened 29 now, of course), and they've dug out two whole floors underneath the observatory. There are some really cool new exhibits, including one where you can simulate what would happen if an asteroid, comet, or other object were to hit the earth (hint: sometimes the world blows up!).

The night ended with me not getting to hang out with Daniel House because I had to meet up with these other people that Dave and I know. It was imperative and hopefully Daniel House doesn't think I'm a complete douche.

Thursday (Downtown, Santa Monica)
I went running at the Arroyo Seco, which is a huge gorge in Pasadena. My run originated at a horse ranch, led me next to the L.A. River and under the graceful curves of the Colorado Street Bridge, and I finally turned back at the Rose Bowl. As I ran in the shadow of the bridge, the song "Everything in its Right Place" by Radiohead came up on my iPod, and my runner's high kicked in. Need I tell you it was a transcendental experience? It was genuine and empowering, unlike the acid I dropped on my last visit to L.A., which was exciting but also left me frightened and vulnerable and feeling a million miles from myself and everyone else on the planet.

Later Dave and I hit Scoops, this amazing ice cream place. I had the Brown Bread flavor. I know, it sounds disgusting, but actually, it was incredible! It was mostly sweet and carmeley with crunchy bits, reminiscent of brown bread without tasting like a glob of raw dough as I had feared. Dave had the Sesame Ginger. Spicy and refreshing, sweet but not cloying. (Just like me, right?)

Before I knew it, it was time to go to Downtown. For some reason, "going Downtown" seemed almost as intimidating as "driving on L.A. freeways," so Dave was kind enough to lead me to the very exit I needed, and then I forged ahead on my own. I looked about, wide-eyed, at what appeared to be a bunch of road construction and old factories, and nothing that possibly looked like it could be a place anyone would ever deem "home." Donihue (the second of my L.A. Daves, as I like to call them) didn't pick up his phone. I tried again. "Dave, it's me. I'm here. Where are you?" Sent a text. "I'm here. Where u at?" And again, ring, ring, no answer. Panicked, I drove in circles, going down increasingly sketchy streets, and occasionally completely ignoring road signs (such as No U-Turn, Stop, and speed limit signs of all stripe). Finally I gave up and parked next to the side of the road, with the engine on and in drive, hands on the wheel and right foot on the gas, just in case. I later found out that the place I parked was in EAST L.A. That's right, folks; I've been to East L.A. and I lived to tell the tale! Though I guess these days, people are moving there. Soon it'll be the new Los Feliz.

Finally I heard from Donihue and we met up. He lives in a really cool loft, or maybe I should say lived, because he was in the process of moving out. I hung out while he frantically dealt with issues involving trailers and European releases and situations in India and what seemed to be a million different time obligations. The combination of the moving-related chaos in his house plus all the work he so obviously had to do informed me that despite his generous offer, to stay there would be to get in his way. So, we went to Japantown and had sushi and sesame chicken. L.A. has such great restaurants. After, I walked down the street, my fuschia dress flapping in the breeze and me daintily holding it down, while Mexican construction worker dudes gave my self-esteem a big boost.

We walked back to my car, and Dave gave me one of the best hugs ever. Awww… Dave Donihue! He's the best! Such a friend. A joke, told by Donihue: "So I was dating this girl and she was smart, and funny, and drop-dead gorgeous, but I had to break up with her. I told her, 'I just don't want to be in a long distance relationship, you know? I mean, I live here in Downtown and you're all the way in Santa Monica. That's like seven miles from here!'" I told everyone that joke. Hee.

Off to Santa Monica. I was not excited to drive west to Santa Monica in rush hour traffic, but it wasn’t that bad. Of course, going from west to east must have taken those poor people an hour and a half to get home. Ridiculous. I wended my way through the wall-to-wall traffic and eventually saw the exit to Santa Monica. I like the road directions to Santa Monica… it's basically like this: "Drive west. When you get to the Pacific Ocean, turn right and park."

Time to meet Jamie and watch the sunset. I put my bags at his place and together we walked the across the street to Santa Monica Pier (yeah that's right. He's oceanfront…. Hot!). I went and tried to get perfect sunset pictures with seagulls flying in the camera's path. The whole Jonathan Livingston Seagull look, you know? I would've settled for some Christian inspirational card look, but the light was no good for that. But I got a couple of nice pictures of the ferris wheel and the octopus thing and Jamie.
They have these outdoor movies at the pier and lucky us, they were screening Roman Holiday that night. Of course it was freezing right on the waterfront, and even with all those layers, it wasn't warm enough, so we watched it back at Jamie's. Lovely film, that.

Friday, Saturday (all over)
Friday morning, I had a headache and so I laid there for two hours waiting for the storm to pass. Bad, bad headache. After that, I felt much better and so went for a run from Santa Monica to Venice Beach and back. Some wonderful views and some, well, hmm. I saw a lot of things, like a beautiful young woman who seemed to think it was a great idea to wear orange spandex stretch pants with a pink and purple tie-dyed spandex top, and her hair in a pink and orange scrunchie on top of her head. Awesome! Venice Beach is full of all kind of fat tourists and lean locals being awesome at beach sports. Hot guys spiking volleyballs, abs and pecs gleaming copper in the high noon sun, while chubby Midwesterners shot pictures of real, live Californians. I saw some of the best skateboarding of my life, one guy with that low key casual "who me? Oh yeah, I guess I sorta do rock" kind of thing, another who was more overt about his skatergod status, punishing the pavement like a dom disciplining her Bellevue businessman.
After running I had to go back and hot myself up for the super-special behind the scenes tour of Paramount. It was really fun but it would probably not be as interesting to read about as it was to go to. Let's just say that I'm now tight with Jesus the security guard, I know Jamie's boss secretly wants to give me his extra (yeah, extra) plum-colored Vespa, and I know where Lucille Ball liked to kick it back in the day. And maybe, just maybe, when I was on my way from Astroburger back to Paramount to get my car… maybe I saw a three name celeb. But I couldn't tell you about it, because that's not very L.A. cool to do so, now is it? So I won't tell you about illy ob ornton and his ig eesey-ass grin at me. I guess even big old stars still think a purdy girl is purdy. Well, at least I'd know he's not phobic about making a lifelong commitment – he's done it a few times now!

I hung out again with Dave Stone and our mutual friends in Los Feliz that night. Our friends rock. I thought I lost my shawl that's 90% knitted (that's taken me nearly a year to work on so far) and had to invoke the good old Catholic standby, the prayer to St. Anthony to intercede in helping find lost things. I found it! St. Tony is such a badass, awesome saint.

Afterwards I met Jamie and his friend Mary at Birds, this trendy place in Hollywood that film industry people like to hang out at. The best part was when it started raining and all the starlet wannabes and trendsters had to crowd under umbrellas, while their Uggs (yeah, people still wear 'em. Seriously, ladies. What's up with that?) got soaked and their make-up became mussed.

The next day, Jamie and I had delicious crepes in Santa Monica at the aptly named Café Crepe. Is there anyone out there who can make the case that the nutella/banana combo is NOT the best crepe ever? I think not.
Afterwards, it was raining. WTF?? In fact, it was raining so hard that the streets flooded. See, since it rarely (not never) rains in Southern California, they don't put drains in the streets. So, just crossing the street, my jeans were wet to the knee and my shoes full of water. Thus, we did the only sensible thing to do: we went shopping. At Planet Funk I got a really cute Tokidoki shirt which features all kinds of insanity, like little dudes in cow costumes with Tommy guns, and evil milk cartons with horns. Double awesome! High school kids go into seizures of jealousy when they see it. I also checked out the new Sarah Jessica Parker (hint: shop carefully. The clothes are inexpensive, but some of them feel even cheaper than they are).

Later, I met up with Ashley. The rain had stopped and we enjoyed a coffee and a walk and a talk. She so rules. I'm sure she's going to be a hugely successful photographer someday. Next I went to Benihana. I had the lobster and the fillet mignon. But then, so did he.

Grabbed Ashley in Hollywood and raced downtown to some gallery show with Dave Donihue and his friend, and unfortunately we were only able to stay for about 15 mins because it was getting late and we were late for Dash Snow's show in Chinatown, and the galleries there close at 10 p.m. We only got to be there for a few minutes as it was, but the cool thing was this. The entire gallery space was one huge lightbox with his photos lined up against it. Everyone except for me was wearing black and seemed to have darker hair. I had on this fairly hot teal dress and you know what my hair is like. It was an ultravividscene moment.

I had fun hanging out with my friend Melissa's cousin Steven and his cousin Shari. We watched The Thrones with a sinking realization that we were wasting a lot of hearing damage on something unpleasant to listen to. But we really wanted to stay for Abe Vigoda. Ashley was amazing when she pointed out that they were not, in fact, Jade Pagoda, which is what I was calling them. It's just easier to say, o.k.? So, they were these fun, noisy kids having a great time on stage. Reasonably listenable and unreasonably cute.

Sunday (western L.A. and beyond)
My last day. Met up with Dave at some place and ordered from the kid's menu (you can do that without raising eyebrows in L.A. Everyone's on some kind of diet. I love that.) Then we drove all over the western parts of L.A. so that I could start to learn more about some of the neighborhoods. If I could afford it, I'd like to live in the west. Santa Monica would probably be my first choice, but it's pricey… maybe I can come up with some sort of deal? We'll see.

In the meantime, I'm here. I'm working some overtime, selling everything I can, trying to save up money. I'm culling needless people and activities and expenses and time sucks from my life. Sorry if you don't hear from me. I still love you. I'm just busy trying to do something with my life. I'm writing again and I'll be doing even more soon. This is a difficult thing about writing and friends: I kinda have to be alone to do it, unless you want to get together with me for coffee and writing. In that case, we’ll avoid speaking to each other, listen to our iPods, and occasionally look up over our laptops like we're playing Battleship (thanks, Shawn).

I think I gotta leave. I love Seattle. You know that. But I'll write about that some other time. For now, know this: as much as I love it, I need to move on. I need to shelve my past and the future that I dreamed about that can't happen. I need to have new dreams, new dramas, hell, even new disappointments. A future of sunshine and smog.

Bumbershot!: A Recap of Seattle’s Best Music Festival

2007-09-09T11:25:00.000-07:00

Let me preface this by saying: I LOVE BUMBERSHOOT! I go nearly every year. This year was as good as always: the talent, the Indie Mart, Flatstock, and my friends. Good job, everybody!

Day One: Saturday
I got there late so I missed Crowded House. And I heard they were great. Crud. So, got there when I got there and met up with my friend Jamie from LA and we watched the Shins. With those guys, you might as well just put on their CD. They threw a pretty dull live show, but they sounded perfect. We were starving, so we got a huge brick of undercooked curly fries and a Polish dog that was mostly bun. As usual, Bumberfood bumbersucks. There was a lull in the action after the Shins; it was unbelievably crowded and there was nothing I was dying to see, so we went and hung out by the fountains and laid in the grass. So peaceful and relaxing, that is, until some moronic hippie girl ran into me while trying to play hackey sack. Hackey sack? Really? Still? Give it a rest, stinky hippie douchebags.

After having dealt with the unwashed masses for a little too long, we went to the Starbucks VIP area. Yeah, you may not have known this about me, but I'm a Starbucks VIP. I signed up to be a Bumberfan (sigh) on the internet and you get some spiffy things like this. It was set up next to this outdoor stage, so we listened to the Avett Brothers (a so-so alt country outfit) and had free drinks, sitting in the shade. I went back to the VIP area a few times over the weekend and got some free beverages, so right now I am a big fan of Starbucks.

Next I went to The Moth: Sex, Drugs, & Rock 'n Roll stories. SO awesome. Dan Kennedy, a McSweeney's writer, was HILARIOUS about rock 'n roll and "not selling out," and Dan Savage had one of the funniest acid trip stories I've ever heard (and I have heard a LOT of them). Another great thing about The Moth show is that it was in Bagley Wright Theater. Fabulous venue to check out during the sometimes taxing Bumbershoot: it's cool, dark, and the sensory input is limited to the show in front of you. Highly recommended.

Next, Jamie and I met up with Julissa.* We went to a Phucket Thai; the Phad See Ew (sp?) was tasty but nothing special, but the bathroom was incongruously brilliant, with a tv playing sports and soft mood lighting and candles and cool Thai decorations. I give the food a 6 but the restroom knocks the overall experience up to a 7.

The last show of the night was Gogol Bordello, which was by far the high point of Saturday. High energy Gypsy rock 'n roll craziness. How fun! The only downside is the people doing that yucky ska pogo dance thing. Eww. Oh yeah, and the homoerotic heiney dance that these frat boys were doing right in front of us was awful to behold. Not hot. So not hot.

After that, Julissa and I hung out at an Irish bar (McMinemans?), where the bartender sweetly made sure that my club soda never ran out. Aww!

Day Two: Sunday
Started off with the last half of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. BRMC delivered the goods though they're a bit slow and droney for an afternoon out in the sunshine. I think of them as more of a nightclub band, but they're great and I'll never turn down a chance to see them live. After they finished, for some reason the jerkoffs at the mainstage decided to hose everyone in the audience. It was so freaking lame. It wasn't even that hot, and the crowd wasn't thick or unruly. There was absolutely no reason for them to do it, and it ruined my hairdo and got my suede boots wet. Jerks.

Kings of Leon came on the mainstage next. I was excited to see them, because I'd heard such good things, and then when they came out onstage, I was even more excited, because those guys are really cute. But then they started playing and it was this southern-fried blandly icky rock, and so we left. Kings of Leon, you may have a cool name, but you're no Fountains of Wayne.
Next we went to the Fucking Eagles. This Tacoma-based garage band seem like really nice guys, the kind of guys I'd like to go to a car show with. Their first song was really good, but then they played it again two more times. Or maybe their songs are all similar sounding. Hey Fucking Eagles, thought of doing covers? I bet this band would rock with some good songs.

So, I went to Stars of Track and Field by myself and they were one of my favorite bands at Bumbershoot. They are three guys, doing amazingly rich swirly pop, with beautiful harmonies – absolutely the perfect Bumbershoot show. Lazy, hazy sunshine music. I'm smiling just remembering it.

Then I saw my good friend Barbara and we hung out and waited in the sun for the Apples in Stereo. Talk about fun summer music! One of the best parts of this show was watching all the really young kids dancing energetically and getting really into it. I remember seeing these guys years ago; it's great to watch a new generation of kids feeling their psych pop vibe.

I cut out of Bumbershoot early; so lucky because Alex was passing through so he gave Barbara and me a ride home in his yellow Mustang. I know it's silly but riding in hot cars gives me a cheap thrill. Yeeeoowww!

That night, I went to a really great party thrown by Sound magazine at Solo. Nick from Death Cab was one of the DJs, and there were a lot of fancy people whose names you'd recognize. I'll not bore you by listing them, because that would be silly. Anyway, great party, great magazine. The only drag was that Heinekens were free for people…. But my drink, Red Bull, cost $3.50. Not fair! Word to the wise: if you want Heather Rogers at your party, please, make sure Red Bull or Rock Star is one of your valued sponsors. Got that?

Day Three: Monday
Time to do other stuff… Getting a little Bumbered out. But, I can't stay away 100% because I have VIP tickets…. Real ones, not just Starbucks VIP. So I got a late start, caught a few minutes of Lyrics Born, and took a good look around Flatstock. Great artists this year. I bought a fantastic Danny Danger print made for a Silversun Pickups concert. I got lucky, finding affordable artwork I love by an east coast artist, featuring a band I'm really into. Yay!
Then I ran into the Ice Cream Man and got free ice cream! I love you, Ice Cream Man. You and your tasty, cold, ice-creamy goodness.

Then, the band that I think wins the Bumbershoot 2007 Most Inspirational Award: The Frames. The Frames is this amazing alt band from Dublin that apparently everyone else in the universe knew about except me, but then I saw the stellar movie Once which features the lead singer/guitarist of the Frames, and now I'm a big fan. I say The Frames were Most Inspirational not only because of their moving music and lyrics, but also the way they had a woman in the audience sing their big hit "Falling Slowly" and it worked out so beautifully. It was one of the most affecting musical performances I've seen in a long, long time. If you're too cool or too hard for this music, well, fuck you. What a wonderful band.

Next was Steve Earle. Steve Earle is allegedly an alt country favorite. Why then were most of the audience fat white trash? Isn't the main difference between alt country and good ol' regular country that the fans of the former are hipsters and the fans of the latter are stupid people? Apparently I'm missing something, but I thought it was crap. Oh, sorry. I'm being mean again. I meant, "not my cup of tea."

The last thing I saw was a couple of songs by an experimental band, My Brightest Diamond. That was awesome. And then I went to the Indie Mart, which was closing up shop for the night and I got a copy of a back issue of McSweeney's for only $6! Yay. I Heart McSweeney's.
Monday was a bit bittersweet because it had that "circus is leaving town" melancholy feel. Also sad was the fact that I had to miss Miranda July (too crowded) and Wu Tang Clan (too late).

In all, Bumbershoot was awesome, like always. There are certain facts about Bumbershoot that have been true every single year since I've started going ten years ago. Follow these rules and you will be fine.
Bumberrules
1) You will not get to see everything you want to see.
2) Expect some physical discomfort (rain, heat, footwear issues, some asshole hackeysacking into your head).
3) The food is crappy and expensive.
4) Take the bus or get a ride. Parking's a bitch.
5) Check out some things you haven't heard of. The point is to check out new things without already knowing you like them. Every year, I do this and every year, I get into a new band as a result. Some good examples of this for me are Brazilian Girls, Gogol Bordello, Cat Power. Before Bumbershoot, I hadn't heard them and now I'm a fan.
6) Wear layers and sunblock!
7) Have fun.
8) It's all happening for a reason.

Until next year, I'll just be happy with the great memories. Bye-bye Bumbershoot!
*Funny story. Saturday morning, Julissa jokingly wailed over the phone about her clothes and shoes that she'd look like Enid from Ghost World. I said, "Oh, don't worry… I look like her friend, the blonde." She said, "Oh, you mean SCARLETT JOHANSSON!??" So funny. I forgot she was Thora Birch's friend in that film. Some comfort I am! Anyway, Julissa ROCKS and she's a huge part of why Bumbershoot was so fun for me this year.

Movie Reviews: Before Sunrise, Children of Heaven, SherryBaby & The Science of Sleep

2007-08-26T09:23:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's time for more movie reviews. Not movies that are new necessarily, but just ones that I've recently seen.

Please do continue to send me your suggestions for movies to see and review. Of course, it may take me awhile to watch your suggestion, given that if I watch one netflix movie a week, it will take me -- let me just get out a pen to jot down the figures -- a year to get through them all. Yeah, 'cause there's fifty-two movies on my queue. And fifty-two weeks in a year. See, I can do word problems! Take that, Mr. Nord! (Lower level math educators... bless 'em!) Anyway, I digress... but if you're read me before, you're used to it, right? Ok. Movie. Reviews. NOW!

Before Sunrise (1995)
Before Sunrise chronicles the short-but-sweet romance of a young American named Jesse (Ethan Hawke) who falls for a French student, Celine (Julie Delpy), on a train ride to Vienna. They spend the night before he has to return to the US walking, talking, and falling in love. This is a great example of a dialogue-based movie that actually works and does not bore. Often dialogue-heavy films do not hold my interest (sorry, I am just not into Clerks), but in this movie the dialogue was beautiful and engaging, and worked well against these lovely Viennese backdrops. If you have not yet seen it, now would be a great time, because Julie Delpy has a new movie coming out that she wrote, directed, and stars in, called 2 Days in Paris. It's supposed to be great. So check out her early work and see what you think. I'm definitely watching 2 Days and also the sequel to Before Sunrise, aptly titled Before Sunset. Look for that reviewed here soon.

Also, just for fun, I'm going to quote Jesse from Before Sunrise: "You know what's the worst thing about somebody breaking up with you? Is when you remember how little you thought about the people you broke up with and you realize that is how little they're thinking of you. You know, you'd like to think that you're both in all this pain but they're just like 'Hey, I'm glad you're gone.'" True that.

And for good measure, here's one from Celine: "I believe if there's any kind of God it wouldn't be in any of us, not you or me but just this little space in between. If there's any kind of magic in this world it must be in the attempt of someone sharing something. I know, it's almost impossible to succeed but who cares really? The answer must be in the attempt." Solid A

SherryBaby (2006)
Relentlessly depressing, bleak movie about the difficulties of a woman recovering from a life of abuse, crime, and addiction. Maggie Gyllenhaal plays a recently paroled Sherry, just out of the New Jersey pen after a three-year stint. Amazing part of this movie was how real it seemed; as a public defender, I've seen many a drug-addicted client. This movie documents well the broken coping mechanisms that female addicts often use to deal with their lives. Maggie Gyllenhaal's acting was right on the money, but the plot never really went anywhere and many scenes seemed to woefully lack purpose and direction. For some, the fact that there are a lot of nude scenes with a white-trashy hot Mags will be a plus, but honestly, the situations were so depressing that the sex was really not very sexy. C+

Children of Heaven (Iran, 1997)
I don't know if I've ever seen an Iranian movie before, but if this isn't the best one, I would be shocked. What an amazing movie! The story: Ali loses his little sister Zohre's shoes. His family is too poor for new shoes, so they concoct an ingenious plan: they take turns going to school in Ali's shoes, until Ali gets an even better plan. He will compete in a long-distance race where the prize for third place is a pair of shoes. This movie is sweet and affecting without being syrupy or trite. However, I need to cut this review short so that I can find an Iranian man to give me beautiful, wonderful children like these. Solid A

The Science of Sleep (France/Italy 2006)
Stephàne, played by gorgeous man Gael Garcia Bernal, moves to France to be closer to his mother after his father's death, takes a boring job at a calendar company, and then dreams, a lot. Most fascinating to me was the exploration between dreams and art, and the art was so darned cool. I truly loved the felt pony and the cellophane ocean and the cardboard car and the paper towel roll city. But as the film goes on, it seems Stephàne's "dreaming" is interfering with his "reality" a bit too much, and maybe he's just "completely fucking nuts." And like most crazy people, Stephàne is really annoying, especially when he hurts the girl he loves with all his crazy artist dude antics. The object of his affection, Stephànie, played by the um… interesting-looking Charlotte Gainsbourg, is one of the better aspects of the film.

So, on the plus side: interesting premise, good acting, cool art. On the downside: twee Velvet Underground cover, annoying lead character, disjointed plot, and a pretty big what's-the-point-of-all-this-anyway factor. For some, the Urban Outfitter aesthetic might be a bit much too take. It's no Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. But it also doesn't suck and you should probably give it a chance. B-

Travel: Croatia & Prague

2007-08-13T09:28:00.000-07:00

Croatia
We made it to the Istria Peninsula of Croatia as the sun began to set. As we entered Rijeka, we got lost in a very intimidating industrial district and had to ask for directions from a security guard. I'm not sure what language Robert spoke to the guy in; apparently the Croatian and Polish languages share some words, though not so many as Czech and Polish. My terror was unjustified; imposing looks notwithstanding, the guard gave us good directions and we arrived at our hotel, the Jadran, in time for nightfall. Our room was directly over the sea, where the Kvarner and Kvarneric* branches of the Adriatic meet. The sea comes right up to the foundations of the building, and I could hear it gently lapping below. It was a warm, still night, and a soft salty smell wafted up to me. The moon shone in a long milky track on the dark, silken sea. I sat on the balcony and realized that I might never be so content again, so I savored each moment. I felt I could taste the moon melting on the sea, hear the stars tinkling like far away bells.

The next morning, we enjoyed a wonderful and fresh breakfast, eaten on a balcony overlooking the sea. Everything at the Jadran was amazing except their farmer's cheese, which, compared to the cheese in Italy, reminded me of what happens if you leave thin sliced cheddar out on a table overnight and then eat it the next day. It was chewy and grainy and it just wasn't that great. But the baked goods and the fresh fruits and the coffee with milk… oh! So fabulous. We bustled out, and decided to check out the beach down on the island of Krk. Robert insisted on stopping at some small-town grocery, I think it was in a place called Njivice. I waited in the car and watched a pot-bellied old man standing around in a year by the store, wearing nothing but a saggy pair of white briefs. It was a hot day, and even the local goats just stood there, focusing on moving as little as possible. Then a piercing "whoop, whoop, whoop" sounded from the car and its lights started flashing on and off for no ascertainable reason. Something is wrong with the security system in Robert's parents' car, and the alarm started going off full-blast. Try as I might, I couldn't turn it off. The old man ran into a house and the goats scattered. As people left the grocery, they glared at me and looked even more annoyed than the average Croatian. I still have no idea how it eventually turned off. Nothing we did seemed to have any effect whatsoever.

We got to the beach at Baska. It was punishingly hot, and I already had a rash on my hands from sun exposure, so I knew our time at the beach would be limited, but I had enough time to memorize the fantastic views. It's not surprising to me why some people call Croatia part of the "Balkan Riveria." A number of tourists of different European nationalities were taking advantage of the relaxing vistas – the rare turquoise water and the sunbathers on the gravelly beach (which was very hard on the feet. I was glad I had sandals with me). When I went for a swim, I was shocked at the salt taste in my mouth. I've never tasted water that salty in my life. So after you get out, your skin is all dry and salty and you start to heat up in the sun, and it's no wonder so many of those large German women looked like big, overcooked sausages. On the contrary, I might have been the palest person there, but I'm so glad I went running a lot before my vacation. I have never felt so relaxed at a beach as I did then – it really helps to feel comfortable in your own skin (if a little salty and tight). In any case, if you want a beautiful European beach experience that's not nearly so expensive as the French Riviera, I can't recommend a better place than Croatia.

Next we drove west to Pula, which is an ancient Roman town. We visited the grand Colliseum that used to hold about 23,000 people in its heyday. It's still a viable performance venue, though its capacity is now limited to 5000. The coolest (in both senses) part of the Colliseum was the underground section, where you could see the areas that they used to hold the gladiators and animals between matches. You could also see the enormous person-sized jugs that contained wine and ale. It's very interesting to me to compare the ways we are still so much like the ancient Romans. Many consider sporting events to be the highlight of their existence, but in no way complete without an overpriced, lukewarm, flat cup of beer. And if we think we're so enlightened as to be above pitting one creature against each other, well, that's debatable. We've got illegal fights between roosters and pitbulls, and we have legally sanctioned boxing and ultimate fighting which is just a step removed from pitting gladiators against each other. It's just wild to me to see how incredibly influential the Romans were on the modern world, and how much their mark remains.

I realized with a sinking feeling that we really only had one day, two nights in Croatia. We'd have to leave promptly first thing in the morning to get to Prague by nightfall. We only had a limited amount of time left, and it was my turn to pick what to do. For some reason I was incredibly drawn to these ruins in Dvidgrad, which was not even on out maps. There was a one-paragraph description in the guide book, saying only that it was "about 10 km from Svetvincenat." We drove up and down the roads trying to find the castle, making some wrong turns into villages that looked like something out of a movie. Chickens plucked unseen treasures out of the dirt roads, scattering upon our approach. Villagers ran from their cottages to see who on earth was driving up their one lane road. We got the sense that everyone in the village would have already known if someone else in the village were expecting guests. Eventually, we drove almost at random, going back towards Rijeka and saw a tiny sign saying "Dvidgrad" pointing down a narrow, windy road. We decided to check it out. That late summer day golden glow hung on every single thing, lighting up dust motes and making the entire scene almost mystical. Crickets chirped their sad songs to each other. We walked in the leftover footprints of peoples' lives, trying and failing to understand what it was like so many years ago. What had been one of the biggest cities in Europe until the 800s was no more as of the 1600s, due to the plague, malaria, and finally, sacking by the Uskoks. The experience of going to the castle left a huge impression on me, and it even provided some of the inspiration for the screenplay I've been working on.

We spent the evening in Reijka, but honestly, it's not worth much space here. It's an o.k. city, very beautiful, especially because it's right on the water. However, the experience was nothing that special. We had mediocre pizza at some forgettable place. The service was terrible. The waiter was grumpy and horrible and tried to overcharge us. And I realized that most of the people I saw were scowling. Perhaps historical events form the character of the people. Croatia has held out for centuries immemorial against warring factions. A less noble explanation is that it's still the mid-90s in Croatia. The music still seemed to be heavily grunge influenced, and the kids there are just getting into baby tees and belly shirts. Lots of muffin tops there. Croatia more than anywhere else I went on this trip "feels" Eastern European. People were usually very friendly but their surly expressions make me wonder what's really going on.

Slovenia, Austria, Slovakia
We left Croatia going north, and quickly hit Slovenia. Beautiful rolling hills with forests gave way to picturesque fields of wildflowers. The houses were small and tidy and had beautiful, colorful flowers growing in front patches and windowboxes. We continued north, going through Austria, then Slovakia. The funniest thing that happened that day was in Slovakia, when we had to stop to use restrooms. While I was in the bathroom I noticed a big chocolate stain on my right on my ass. NICE. So, I used some water to try to get it out, and one of the towels. The towels, unfortunately, were treated with some green dye that got all over my khaki skirt. I tried to rinse it out, and that part of my skirt got soaked. It looked so bad with the huge wet spot that I just put the whole thing in the sink and soaked it. I went out to the car to find something else to change into, and there were these four Slovakian army guys sitting right outside the bathroom. They saw me and just started laughing, without any attempts to hide it. I changed into a different skirt, and that raised some eyebrows as well. Just call me Grace.

I guess maybe Slovakia's just not my lucky place, because we had a problem at the Slovakian border. The border official said that we didn't have a vignette, which is something you have to buy in order to travel across roads in certain countries. Austria, for instance, has a vignette; Italy and Slovenia do not, and charge a toll instead. (Wouldn't that be a good idea here? How about charging the people who use the roads the most more for road upkeep?) I didn't even know we needed to have one, but no matter, we had to change money to get Slovakian currency and then bribe the official in cash in order to pass. Meanwhile, as I stood outside waiting for this to happen, the wind and rain started picking up and it got decidedly chilly. The sky turned a dark yellowish bruise color. The uber-cute Czech border guards giggled a bit at me as my filmy summer skirt and top quickly got soaked and flapped like old rags in the rising wind. It proceeded to rain harder than I have ever seen it rain anywhere, in my life. It was coming down so hard that it was almost impossible to see the road. Much impeded, we lumbered along to Prague.

Prague, Czech Republic
It is so hard for me to write about Prague. Maybe you'll understand someday, later, when you're in love, and you have to leave your lover behind. But maybe you'll have the good sense to fall in love with a person, not a place, and maybe that's a totally different experience. In fact, I'm sure it is. Here's the thing: I dream about Prague all the time. I constantly think: how can I get back to there? What is going on there right now? Oh, I dream of it and I wonder, can a city dream? In my conception of the universe, Prague dreams of me too. It dreams of my rubber-heeled purple Campers roving on its cobbled streets like a shiatsu massage, my platform stilettos striking it like staccato hammers, driving the patterned cobblestones into the ground an infinitesimally small amount downward with each step. Prague feels my eyes roam all over it, taking it all in and loving what I see.

I have this theory that Prague and I are meant to be together. I'm part Czech, after all – my great-grandmother and great-grandfather were Bohemian, the part of the CR where Prague is located. Is it possible that I'm genetically predisposed to feel like I belong there? What if I'm right? I need to go back.

So, Prague, in the more, here's-what-it's-like, tourist-friendly fashion: Prague is a remarkable example of a glorious old European city wasn't bombed to high hell during WWII. Praha, as they call it there, is an amazing place, with many wonderful historical sights. I'm going to omit descriptions of most of them, because if you want a guide book, I suppose you'll just go buy one. For me the best part of all that was simply to see so many eras of history layered upon each other. One of my favorite parts of the city is called New Town, built in the 19th century. I love it, that that's "new" there.

We stayed at the Jeleni dvur,* which is in this wonderful, quiet part of Prague called Hradcany* behind the grand Prague Castle. The room was tiny but had windows overlooking the Castle walls. We had a great starting point for our excursions, just a few blocks from everything. One of my favorite excursions was to the Toy Museum in Prague. There was a myriad of wonderful old toys, and one couldn't help but feel sentimental for a seemingly simpler time. And then they had to bring on the Barbies: they had a Barbie exhibit which included all the old school Barbies and then all the new, crazy weirdass couture Barbies.

We had lunch at this old school Czech restaurant, where the menu was entirely in Czech, and the waiter spoke only Czech. I had a dish that was exactly the same as my mom used to make, some tender roasted pork with potato dumplings and other roasted veggies. I wonder if she learned it from her grandmother. Everyone talks about how bad the food is in the Czech Republic, but I think that's because they're eating at tourist traps. Anyway, I loved it.

An added bonus? There was an outdoor music festival going on by the Vltava River, and different areas up and down the river had wonderful music playing, all different genres: hardcore Czech rock groups, folk music, indie. My favorite stage was the one playing hip-hop. These girls were doing a fabulously good job dancing to Nelly's beloved "Hot in Here" song, and then a jester hopped up on the stage and began doing the exact dance they were doing. Perfectly. Every single move. A jester. In the US, the closest thing to jesters you get are acne-pocked teens at Magic the Gathering festivals who love Staind, Fatboy Slim, and Disney showtunes, who feel rebellious because they wear a jester cap that they got at Hot Topic. In contrast, this jester managed to be a jester and still be so completely fucking rock and roll at the same time. In between sets, he got on his razr and texted people. It was amazing.

I wound up making some friends in Prague, which was unexpected and
wonderful. I had such a fun night, wandering around the city, having cappuccino and cake, enjoying the way the lights play on the dark river, trekking through the silent courtyards around Prague Castle, empty of their tourists. I also went to a 100% weird club that was three levels and featured strippers on the bottom floor. I practiced my very few words of Czech, supplemented by my only marginally less few words of Polish. I loved being on my own on a Saturday night in this truly world-class city.

My last day in Prague, I went to mass in Czech at St. Vitus's Cathedral by the Palace, and saw the door where St. Wenceslas was rumored to have been murdered. We had lunch, and then all too soon, it was time to go. We drove back to Zurich through Austria and Germany. My last night there, we went to look for a traditional Swiss restaurant. Where the place had been, the restaurant was no longer, so we went to the next closest place, which happened to serve Thai and "pan Asian." Word to the wise: stick to cheese and chocolate and yogurt in Switzerland. (I'm spoiled, of course. I've heard people say that there's better Thai food in Seattle than there is in Thailand.) I picked up a last few boxes of Sprungli for Marcus and it was time to go to bed. My plane left early the next morning.

Post Script
Blogging about my experiences in Europe has been an interesting process for me. I realize that part of me doesn't want to finish this blog, because that means it's really over. It's over a month since I got back. Time for me to stop talking about it, dreaming about it – at least not so relentlessly, right? Maybe finishing this is exactly what I need to do to get "back in the swing of things." Maybe I've been waiting until I have another trip coming up to finish this series, because I fear my life might feel bland or boring without something to look forward to. No worries: today I booked my tickets for Los Angeles.

*I don't have the characters on my computer to spell some words properly. This is the closest approximation I could make.

A Night in the Life

2007-06-09T11:34:00.000-07:00

This blog post begins with my office life, takes a trip to my night life, and then tucks me in.

Things are heating up as I prepare to leave for my trip to Europe. Yesterday I had a number of appointments in the morning, and when I got to my office, the amount of work was utterly overwhelming and bewildering. I just started hammering away at it. I stayed a couple hours after people usually leave on Friday (usually 4:00 at the latest on Fridays), and once the incessant interoffice pages stopped and all the people who come to my office to interrupt me left, I got a lot done. I went through all 52 of my voicemails, got a lot of tasks dealt with, wrote an affidavit for an old case that is now a problem, and did a little bit of filing. It was amazing how productive I became. I thought I'd have to go to the office all weekend, but it turns out, all I really have to do is write this reply brief. Don't get me wrong -- that won't be fun, but I think I can do it from home and won't have to go in to the office.

After my hard day of work, I went to the "Venus" art opening at Roq la Rue, celebrating the portrayal of the female form in art. See www.roqlarue.com What a scene! Very well attended by some of the more attractive "art people" I've seen, the show featured DJ Vodka Twist (you can see him with me of his Vespa if you go to my pics), along with his co-dj, Barbarella (what a charming, gorgeous creature she is!). They played the best stuff; I must ask for the playlist. I recognized a Cibo Matto song in there.... and of course they played some groovy soul, and some French ye ye. I don't know what it all was. Anyway, the art show was so good.

Oh my God. I totally want to start collecting art prints, And even some of the original pieces were only just a leettle bit out o' my reach. Such as this AMAZINGLY cool portrait of a girl by Joseph Parker, called "There Is A Light That Will Never Go Out." http://www.roqlarue.com/showpages/Venus/gallery/gallery_petker2_det.jpg When you are a distance away from it, it looks like an old, faded cover of a gothic pulp fiction novel. But once you get up close, it is a modern pop technicolor dream, where the girl becomes this collection of wild streaks, smears, and globs of beautiful, glorious color. So awesome. Unfortunately, it was $850, which I don't have, what with the trip to Europe and all. The jpg on the website does no justice to this piece whatsoever. I can't believe no one bought it. Can someone please buy it for me? I must have it. I tried to convince Marcus to invest in some good art. Work by artists showing at Roq la Rue have generally been increasing in value, besides looking great on your walls. However, Marcus was unconvinced, and our walls shall remain unadorned for the time being. My friend and art collector Anne Wallace was in attendance. She has great taste in art. I am so glad for her that she got to purchase three of the most fabulous pieces in the show: both of the Chris Reccardi pieces, which are angular, cigarette-slim, vaguely alien-looking women loungeing in their space age bachlorette pads. So hip. Better still, she got the Lynne Naylor "Venus Rising" which is a portrait of a modish, stylized, buxom babe in a teal dress and long black gloves, who seems to be looking over our shoulders at some sexy man approaching with a martini glass and a rakish grin. The other Lynne Naylor piece "Cashmere," did not sell yet, which surprises me. This one is in shades of magenta, purple, and salmon (three of my absolute favorite colors for clothing this season, in case you care), and features a beautiful dark-haired beauty, knee raised in a come hither fashion, as she drops her handkerchief on the purple backdrop. It's fabulous. And it's only 2 Gs. Will someone please buy me that? I'm serious. I deserve good art.

Afterwards, Marcus and I went to Clark Humphrey's birthday party. See www.MISCmedia.com for who Clark is. What a fun time that was! Gillian Garr was there, and we had fun talking about this wild night we had with Krist Novacelic, and Kim Thayil, and Leaf Garrett. I also told her my going-to-a-strip-club-with-the-White-Stripes story. Nice to see Dean (aka DJ EZ Action). And Kurt, who owns Cafe Racer and wants me to do a mod night down at his scooter club in the Sodo. There was a fruit and cream cheese custard cake there; it was said to be delicious. So I'm told; I'm not really eating cake right now because I need to look hot in my bikini when I'm in the Balkan Riviera. Plus I'm saving room for all the chocolate and cheese I'm going to eat in Switzerland.It was a fun, happening night. Wish you could've been there (unless you were, and then it was great to see you!) After the night ended, I cuddled in bed with Romeo. He purrs so loud that it's like having a white noise maker. I slept a long time and I'm doing to go bang out that fawking brief now and pack. Maybe I'll go out again tonight.... we shall see. Maybe I'll see you out there. Hope so!

Shopping for Books

2007-01-14T21:12:00.000-08:00

If I don't stop shopping for books on amazon, I won't have time to actually read, write about, or even talk about books.

Consumption is its own weird kind of inaction, though I suppose that reading books is its own type of consumption. Reading books, however, is they type of consumption that frequently satisfies. I've noticed a satiated feeling after I've just read something really good. The better it is, the longer it lasts. For instance, after I read Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, I found it hard to even think about reading anthing for awhile. Then, for a plane ride, I unfortunately selected Sabine, a gothy vampire lesbian novel that somehow manages to be strangely non-sensual. The plot drug on, especially for such a short book. Anyway, after Jonathan Strange, it felt like eating stale nachos after having consumed an elegant seven course meal at Le Gourmand not long before. It was so bad that I actually read the in-flight magazine and then left the book in the seat pocket (in hopes that someone overly young, old. or fundamentalist would find it and be shocked.)

So, I'm going to go ahead and place my order. I don't know what I think I'm doing. I have so many books that I need to read. Maybe I should just procrastinate on this order. Yet, I want these books so badly. Part of the order is composed of books I loved in my childhood, including the hauntingly creepy Blackbriar and Susan Cooper's Dark Is Rising sequence, infused with Celtic and Welsh myths and just so very beautiful. I also am getting The Bell Jar as I've never read any Sylvia Plath and have intended to do so for a long time. So I have a huge list of books to read that I may never get to. Is this some sort of mortality-avoidance attempt? You can't take me yet, Death.... I've got so many more books to get through before I can sleep.

And with that I think I will have a short sleep, not the eternal type, hopefully.