The Great Techno Migration

I've been slowly trying to move myself over for years... 

It is still a work in progress, and no doubt the look of it may change daily or weekly, until I find what I like.

But for now, please follow... My New Wordpress Site.

Along for the Journey.

Utah Desert.

On the docket: develop film. Until then, here are a few shots from the digital camera. I can only take credit for the first two, the last one is Sean's.

Roadtrip.

Six hour road trip to Arches National Park in the Utah Desert. The drive & the desert were good for my soul. A brilliant way to begin a new season. 

Butter, Berries, Cream & Spice

Because of her and this I decided to make my own homemade butter. And can I just say.. what the hell have I been eating for 25 years?!!? Because this.. this... ahhhhhh. I now spend my time dreaming of what I could put butter on. I actually had to stop myself from making a "butter sandwich" consisting of just butter between two cookies. I know right? But I'm still currently having to stop myself from making that sandwich. 

This butter... if it is possible to make a tangible form of grace - this is it. This is grace. This butter. There is no conceivable way in which I am deserving of this - so, grace. Grace literally melting in my mouth. This afternoon I licked some of the butter off of my finger, and just started to cry. This tangible, edible grace. (And if you want - out of convenience and ignorance I've been eating shit for butter, and this is what He had for me. Don't tell me there isn't a perfectly packaged Sunday school lesson in this. Perhaps, minus the word shit. Maybe...)

For a mid-afternoon snack, and in an attempt to not completely clog my arteries, I had a bowl of blackberries & strawberries with cream, sugar, and cinnamon. It's over. I'm in love. I have a difficult time with Church, "Church", this church, that church, my church, your church, and, and, and, and, and - but what I do not have a difficult time with is this - this makes sense. This makes every word clear. This makes what is hard, understandable. This is joy. This is sustaining. This is grace. This is love. 

Butter Love. Berry Love. Cream Love. Spice Love. God Love. 

Sometimes You Need It

I don't know if you need the laugh, or the booty grab, or both - but here it is. I look forward to spring break - I look forward to taking some awesome photos around the city & beyond. 

Until then, I'll leave you with this gem of a photo... ohhh the numerous interpretations that can be made. It brings a smile to my face every-single-time. And after finishing a paper at 1:22a, I needed that smile.

Today's Special

Chocolate. Bacon. Chocolate Chip Cookie.

Sean, Kenna, and I walked down to Marczyk's this afternoon to pick up milk, heavy cream, fresh mozzarella, coffee beans, salami, applewood smoked bacon, lemon poppy seed scone mix... and these cookies. 

I had no intention of buying these cookies - the owner talked me into it. (As if it took much convincing?) These will be a staple in every picnic basket I pack for the rest of my life. 

Valrhona 70% Chocolate, Niman Ranch Bacon, Plugra Butter, NOCO Eggs, AP Flour, Madagascar Vanilla, Sugar, Brown Sugar, Baking Soda, Salt.

Before My Toes Freeze - The Neighborhood Part 3

I. Love. Alleys. 

The sound my shoes make on the broken pieces of gravel, glass, stone, dirt - ahhhh. Quiet. Calm. An odd secretive world. The city is screaming with its sirens and people, and then I turn a corner and ... shhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHPP. Gone. If I, someday in my photographic wanderings, find a secret garden in a back alley, well, then it will be true love. 

A peek at my walk this evening. Before my toes became too cold to move. Before my camera battery died (which wasn't funny - and it still isn't funny. Not. ok. to. joke. I'll announce when I'm ready to find the humor in this situation). There was terrible light, but the actual event was more important than what I ended up with. 

A sample...

When You Need It Most

It is on its way. 

The Neighborhood Part II

...Did you experience a fit of patriotism and give in to an overwhelming urge to immortalize your country on your living room wall? 

No. 

...Are you really into experiential night lights?

No.

... Is this an attempt to communicate feelings of duality and opposition?

No.

Oh. You live in "that area".. with "those" people...

...Right. 

It would seem to follow rational, logical thought that if I live in "that area" with "those" people, that I am presumably by extension, also "those" people. I realize there is a distinction made for a myriad of reasons. I am not interested in having that discussion. Simply ironic and wonderfully hypocritical - the ostracizing of people so that one feels less ostracized. There does seem to be a prevailing sense of security in othering people. 

The photo in actuality? The reflection of police, fire & ambulance lights on our living room wall. A typical evening near the "fax" of life. There is a sense of grounding, a changing of your view of life. Sterile life and gated communities - I'm not convinced of the benefit; I am yet to see the reward. If all we breed is more germaphobic, gate locking, poverty-fearing, privacy-obsessed children.... if that is our legacy, how heartbreakingly devastating. 

I simply wonder, I simply ask - if you don't see it, if you pretend it is not there, does it go away? Are you more safe?

Pizza Night

Finished my intensive weekend course of Horror films today at 4:00p, complete with a few classic falling-asleep-head-bobs on the bus on the way home. Realizing that I still needed to plow through a few hundred pages or so on cinema of the 1970s, I made myself an iced espresso and soaked up the last rays of sunshine on the "patio" behind our apartment. Reading completed, I glanced over a list of films deciding which one had the magical ability to help me turn out a fabulous paper... tonight. Not surprising, The Godfather (Francis Ford Coppola, 1972) found its way to the top. As I turned the film on to begin screening it before starting my paper (reviewing key scenes I might want to write about) the smell of fresh pizza dough, sauteed chicken, garlic, onion, mushrooms, chicken stock, olive oil, balsamic reduction and sundried tomatoes wafted their way into the living room. Needing a little reward as well as a good compliment to what was sure to be an incredible dinner we opened a bottle of Masciarelli Montepulciano d'Abruzzo. Film, food and wine = one satisfied girl. 

Tomorrow on my way home I am picking up a very specific type of ricotta cheese at The Market for cannolis. It isn't finals week - but it is midterm week, and when you are somewhat successfully keeping all 18 credits worth of plates spinning, I believe cannolis, red wine, and left over pizza are in order. 

Small Pieces.

Good morning Denver. This morning I was out of the house early to greet the sun as it joined the living - or at least the showered, scrubbed, walking dead. This morning was an attempt to accomplish multiple things. One, soak up the last bits of summer weather before it snows on Saturday. Two, to plow through my weight in literature about world history in the years between the world wars. And three, to not break down. 

I am hitting a wall. It happens every semester, but this semester - this semester... There is not enough time. I'm always behind. My writing is a cold, gloppy oatmeal. Ugly, unappetizing, and stale. I don't feel like myself, but I can't get past it. Stuck in a terrible fog of unoriginal thought. It seems I have lost my voice - that it is just out of reach. 

There has been no time to grieve. No space. Sometimes I'm barely holding myself together. This part of my life, and the rest of my life intersect, and at that intersection there seems to be one ugly accident with confused people wondering around with bits of dirt in their hair. The claustrophobia of emotions, expectations, sickness, overwhelming feeling of a never ending, far too large commitment... overpowers me. I need out of the city for a moment. I need an expanse. Perhaps a road trip, and a stop in the middle of the Utah desert. 

I am growing tired of the continual battle with education. I do not enjoy this. I am tired. I am tired of the continual striving toward being someone I am not. The constant battle - if I would just allow myself a bit of room... The real crux of it all - I am unfortunately good at what I do not enjoy. More simply out of perfectionism and fear than talent. It is hard and difficult to change.

"Too Late To Quit (Too Soon To Go Home)" by The Wallflowers popped up on my iTunes today - I often believe that God has a twisted, twisted sense of humor. Either that or it was a gentle reminder that I am sickeningly normal, and that I need to move on, and move out of myself, and into others.

Simple.

I love simple food. Fresh baked bread. Salami. Pepperoncinis. Mayo. 

Simple food - Food that you feel you could eat in the middle of a grassy field with the sun pouring down on you. Food that makes you want to run around. Food that speaks to your soul and your belly because it is simple. Food that gets eaten on cafe tables. Food that is fresh, and simple and has a taste explosion that knocks you down. Food that tastes like love in your mouth. Food that makes you smile. Food that makes you make noise, or roll your eyes back in your head. Food that makes you giggle. Food - the way we were supposed to react to it. Not the jam it in and go. Food as a part of life - not food as something we do to get from one point to another. 

Winter Citrus. Spring herbs. Summer Berries. Fall Squash. I love it. I love planting it, growing it, fixing it, and eating it. 

I know - I talk about food all the time. And yes, perhaps I plan entire days, or weeks around food, or the making of food, or the finding of food, but once you're in, you're in. Once you find your love of food, and then stumble upon other people who love food, the way you love food, then you're done. It's all over. 

Spring[like] Days

My lovely, lovely friend Rachel and I grabbed an impromptu espresso at The Market this morning. Quick and a bit chaotic, it didn't matter - we simply needed some face time. We talked about our lives, and about food & restaurants and about where we want to eat next. [Potager is at the top of our list, for those of you who are curious.] This family brings life to Sean and I in a way that is unique. They are honest, with hearts and souls that are ready to laugh and enjoy. 

I thoroughly enjoyed my time with Rachel, the 70 degree sunshine weather, and my double espresso over ice. 

It is these mornings that will sustain me through the inevitable spring onslaught of snow and school work.

Gwenevere Scout & Lyla Starr

A few of the reasons it would be ok if Uncle Sean goes to medical school in California.

Kitchen Love

A kitchen garden is what we have now that we live in the city. And although we miss our little yard, and hope to expand this out-of-control succulent/cacti garden into an herb garden as well -  they seem to enjoy life on our kitchen windowsill. That and the love that emanates from our kitchen. Plant love, food love, music love, public radio love, baseball game love, college football love... you know - kitchen love. 

Friday Morning Breakfast In Bed

Accompanied with tower of books/texts to plow through before the weekend is over.