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. 

Preston Howard Burdette

I will always remember the way you smelled - aftershave and doublemint gum. I am so thankful. I am so blessed. Camping trips, card games, New Years Eve parties... quite the Grandfather. 

Just look at those two. They really lived life together. 65 years! 

It will be quite the trip home to Bakersfield to mourn, to remember, to celebrate. 

In My Head.

A few of my required texts this semester

Stuck a bit in my head these days. Words are not flowing easily from head to page. Or from page to head for that matter. This semester is difficult, and it's leaving me feeling a bit wonky. My writing is becoming more repetitive, less original, and less cohesive. Everything is at a bit of a jumble. 

This may have some correlation to the films I am studying (or the 18 credits that I'm taking). Cinema of the 1970s, Film Noir and Horror films. They are all emotionally taxing, demanding, and sophisticated in a way I will never be. Not to mention the fact that the women of the 1940s can make anyone feel slovenly. It's quite the one-two punch, to feel inadequate academically and physically. Not a pity party for myself, it is just that these actors, these directors, these writers - natural aptitude pours out of them in a way that I feel I will never muster the energy for. There are those who do effortlessly, and those who work long hours to appear to do simply, effortlessly. I am the latter. 

To do all of it and to do nothing. I lean towards one while striving for the other. 

What I need is a terribly good novel, a damn good cappuccino, and a long day in the park. The winter has been mild but it has felt long. Long. Dry. Cold. I feel drained and wind-whipped.

Tickets arrived today for a concert Sean and I are attending the day after finals week ends: Flight of the Conchords with Iron & Wine and Arj Barker at the Red Rocks Amphitheater. A big deal because we really don't attend concerts. But this one, this one I need. I simply have to get myself through to 16 May, so that I can restore the pieces of my soul I feel I am losing. 

Red Rocks Amphitheater Lightening Storm

Beauty

Shalene & Kongolo

Giovanni

Sean, Jeni, Matthew

Eric & Kongolo

Jordan & Travis

Jordan & Myself

The talented Travis himself.

I can only take credit for a few of these photos. Most of them come courtesy of our new friend Travis (who is fabulous by the way). This past weekend was one beautiful montage of people. Our camera battery died, hence the stealing of photos from someone I've only just met... However, I still feel shaken by the enormity of emotions and business that took place over the past few days.

This is what it is to be blessed.

Daily

The dividing wall of books in our apartment.

At times it feels as if all my decisions are silly and inconsequential. Most often, that is quite honestly correct. And then at times they seem not only silly and inconsequential, but also unoriginal. 

It's a lot to take on all at once - foolishness, inconsequential-ness & unoriginality. 

More accurately it is probably more an issue of the wide birth of humanity. The unoriginality of it all, as melodramatic as that sounds. The coming to terms with, not only has most everyone gone through what you have, made the decisions you've made, and even made the ones you've yet to make - but they've even written about it. And some have even done that unfairly well.

I am so small, and mostly I am thankful. And often I am tired of being so silly, so small and so inconsequential. 

It is then, and before then, and after then, that I know that I will never tire of being loved.

January's Breakfast

Homemade bread with butter & honey. 

Berries covered in cream. 

Steaming fresh french press.

Mornings are simple & quiet lately. Just the way I love them.

Quarter Of A Century

Red Velvet (my absolute favorite) Cupcakes from Sprinkles, and gifts from Anthropologie.

There is a lot I would change, and a lot I hope to change. Places I hope to grow, things I hope to hold on to. Places yet to be visited, and friends yet to be discovered...

Hello 25. 

Hold 'em & Fold 'em

Poker Night. 

First a little lesson. Then a little wine. The dealing of chips. An agreement on what game should be played. The donning of a poker face. Cards shuffled. Game begins. 

Chips up, down, rolling in & whittling away. Peanuts, pizza, Swedish fish. 5 of clubs, 10 of hearts. Trail mix, popcorn. See the bet and raise it 20. Chili lime pistachios. Pair of queens! A flush! Lemon water & wine. 

Fun. That's all this was. Not in a simplistic way - in a simple, true, honest, belly laugh way. Some of us needed a night of distraction, some a night of relaxation, others simply needed to remember what it is to play. It is good and wise to surround yourself with others who allow you to play - to enjoy, to partake ... fully and without reservation. With mouths full of candy & nuts, we laughed and relished the evening, long into the morning. This is the way it is supposed to be. This is what we hope for. This is what we should be striving towards. It's not prestigious, it doesn't have a title, or letters after your name. It's friendship. And love. And joy. It is life sustaining. 

I find myself wanting to roll around, and wallow in these evenings - in this time. Glasses with puddles of wine. Pistachio shells littering the table. Empty plates and full stomachs. Full hearts. Cheeks sore with laughter.

And you thought it was just game night.

She took it all with style & a smirk - swindled us out of every last chip.

Organized Yet Unprepared

Entirely unready for another round, I brace myself for what may be the most ridiculous semester of-my-life. Panic sets in with the realization that I maybe have not made the most of every last moment of freedom. I fear I may have a breakdown before it begins. That questioning inner voice has started again, and I wonder if I have it in me to do this once more. Yet again I will sit down in ignorance, and leave with some semblance of knowledge. Roughly 3,000 hours of absorbing, digesting and regurgitating. 

Breathe. Sit. Begin. 

Saturday evening, the 10th of January, 2009.

Mayan Theater Denver, Colorado

One by one they show up. Free themselves of coats and scarves. Greetings and laughter fill the apartment. On the docket for the evening: Jerusalem Cafe & Mayan Theater. We catch up over wine and snacks, our stomachs anticipating the dinner ahead. Between sips of wine, we hear about lovers, or future lovers, or those who may never become. We talk about friends and life until finally, we are ready to head out. I had been craving this meal like a lunatic pregnant woman in her third trimester. (It's a simile, don't get your hopes up.) After a short wait in a crowded space, we fumble our way to our table. The food was divine - as it always is, without fail. Gyros, fries, onion rings, chicken & beef shawarmah, baklava... aaahh. Having eaten more than any of us should have, we waddle our way out. A short jaunt later we arrive at the Mayan Theater in the Baker District - a theater built in the 1930s, designed in the Art Deco Mayan Revival style. We found our seats and experienced a stunning performance by Sean Penn. A little shaken, and a little hopeful we collected ourselves back at home. Coats discarded, bags tossed to the wayside, shoes kicked off - we seatled down and simply let the evening wash over us.

Satisfied from the top to the tips. We were built for city life.

Mouths full of goodness - Jerusalem Cafe

Life.

Early Morning Walk In The City - Lily, Josh

A month ago our friends Lily & Josh came out to visit us. An overabundance of words could describe our time together, and our friendship. But most appropriately: laughter. I am more than thankful that these two are in our lives. They're comfortable, home - and Sean and I will always welcome the beauty that they bring.

I've been quiet for the last month for a myriad of reasons. Much has happened, and it takes time to soak it in, let it fill me up,  and settle in me. Another semester has ended in the classic tangle of books, papers, coffee breath, red eyes and exhaustion. It is a freeing feeling, the end of a semester, but I find a tense swirling sensation growing in my stomach as I dread the onslaught of another attack, I mean semester. "Like an unstoppable rebel force."

As a celebration of sorts for the end of a semester, I spent a wild and crazy evening with friends. We literally romped about the South Broadway shops, concluding with a jaw-dropping few hours at Beatrice and Woodsley. Although I somehow ended up with big head, this photo, courtesy of my beautifully talented sister-in-law Amanda (aka Ruby), really captured the evening in all of its glory. Like crazy fools we enjoyed each other, great food and even more incredible drinks. It had been too long since I had had an evening of this caliber. It was no doubt, and evening to remember. One is hard-pressed to find a group of people more ready to enjoy life and laughter in their fullest.

Sean, Deanna, Giovanni, Ruby, Jules

Our holiday was spent with my family. A whirlwind of curly blond hair, new baby and video games. I love my nieces, and after a well deserved nap for us both, Gwen and I  spent some quality time watching The Wizard of Oz (Victor Fleming, 1939). It was her first viewing, and her expression seems appropriate for the film. Lyla Starr, the newest member of the family took her first holiday in stride, and I'm sure often wondered why a small black box was being shoved in her face.

Gwenevere Scout

Lyla Starr

Since being home, Sean and I have spent time trying to recover from the past month. Yesterday, after sleeping in, we fully committed to a day of rest by watching movies in bed until four o'clock, complete with meals in bed and naps at will. 

As lovely and well deserved as it has been to rest and hide from the world, I have begun to get the itch to create, to do... to leave the apartment. In an attempt to re-socialize myself, I ventured out to the Nuggets vs. Pacers game. Although picture-less, last night was the perfect "welcome back to life" evening. I now feel somewhat ready to begin again. However, a relapse of movies in bed may not be entirely uncalled for before all is said and done.