Tag Archives: birthday

A Very Special 5 Things!

Okay, blog-readers. I will let you in on a little secret. Normally, Mary and I exchange our 5 things via email to each other, so we can read through the day’s/week’s happenings and get a feel for the recent news before it goes live on the blog. Because this is a project we started together, I think this practice is nice and important.

But! It’s MARY’S BIRTHDAY today! So guess what, homies. This jawn is a surprise.

Thanksgiving themed fodder: Thanks for sticking with us. These are crazy times, indeed. I’m not “just saying that.” Look around you! Crazy times. We are all feeling it. I am especially feeling (and am thankful for) the listening, hugging and general “It’s going to be okay, we got this” vibe from friends and loved ones. Thanks.

5 things I could write about today:

  1. 5 things I appreciate about this week
  2. 5 things I have realized this month
  3. 5 things I look forward to in 2012
  4. 5 things I want Mary to have on her birthday
  5. 5 things I love about Mary

I think I’ll just stick with a Combo Deal: #s 4 & 5. Without further ado…

5 birthday-themed word-morsels (for Mary) • Saturday, December 3 • 2011

  1. Banana-times

    This is a picture I took the morning of one of the first bike rides Mary and I ever took together. We are headed to the Salt Lake Marina. Just before we parted ways for the day, we marveled at the fact that we had just spent 7+ hours biking and talking together with joy and ease. Mary (like me) has a certain piety for and devotion to riding bikes, no matter the distance, destination or purpose. For her birthday, may she receive at least one awesome, joyous bike ride this week, and many more to come (of course).

  2. Dog party

    Dogs all around, all the time! This is a photo of Sarge, Lucifer and Copper. They are dog-friends. They hung out together on this May day, a few weeks before Mary moved to Portland. I love this photo of camraderie and secret agendas. Sarge is obviously plotting something. Copper just wants to belong. And Lucifer appears to be off in his own world, wondering how he got smooshed (again) between two young hyperactive pups. For her birthday, may Mary receive at least one frolic (if not many) with Lucifer and other friend-pups.

  3. Nectar of the gods/goddesses/gender-neutral term for holy beings

    COFFEE. Road coffee, diner coffee, backyard coffee. Garbage coffee, garage coffee, cowboy coffee. Camp coffee, house coffee, field coffee. Early morning coffee, midnight coffee, all-day coffee. French press coffee, pour-over coffee, Italian coffee. Spendy coffee, cheap coffee, proletariat coffee. Whole bean coffee, ground coffee, broken coffee. Perfect coffee, bad coffee, just-right coffee. For her birthday, may she receive a great cup of coffee.

  4. Surrounded by goodness

    This is a picture of Mary writing out a Stereolab playlist (for her lucky girlfriend) while simultaneously eating a jalapeno-mango sausage hoagie. I think it’s pretty badass.  Wait, it would only be more badass if that glass next to her was filled with some gnarly beer. But we can pretend, right? Either way, for her birthday, may she receive Stereolab, loudly, and as many sophisticated, foodie, hot dog-esque creations as she’d like.

  5. Life Essentials 101

    Mary and I like to video chat. This is one of the first times we video-chatted. We both happened to be wearing grey hoodies with white drawstrings. We also both happened to be drinking stouts. It was this hilarious moment of unplanned synchronicity that I feel is important to document. We’ve had a lot of similar moments since then. For her birthday, may she receive beloved grey hoodies that are lost in Buffalo Exchanges and then miraculously found again, and the warmth that comes from said sweatshirts, not to mention from drinking chocolate stout.

Happy muthaflippin’ birthday, Mary. ♥

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“Snakk om sitt”

Dear reader(s)! Several days have passed since I have submitted my last 5 things! This is just how it goes; sometimes daily lists bubble forth with ease, and sometimes there are dry spells.

My excuse (if you’ll have one) is that I’ve been working on my own personal blahg for writing/zines/artwork/photography/life. It’s exciting, and many hours this weekend poring over its inception have proven worth it, but my eyes are tired…so tired.

Without further ado, 5 things. Sunday/Monday, October 2-3, 2011.

  1. October 2 is Paul B’s 29th birthday!  I sent him a text message wishing him HBD at approximately 12:30 a.m. “this morning.” We all (Greg, Kris K, Daveed, Marilyn, Shari and myself) spent some QT together with Paul and his family at his dad’s glass studio last night. Paul’s dad passed away a week ago from a sudden, unexpected heart attack.  I’d met his pop a few times. Really good dude. I imagine this week hasn’t been easy for Paul. So strange that I was just hanging out at Paul’s house the Saturday prior, watching his film(s) and shooting the shit and asking, “How are your folks?” I made Paul two vegan pizzas and brought them over to the studio gathering. Despite the somber atmosphere, they were well-received. Labors of love. Paul B holds the title of Emily’s First Salt Lake City Friend Ever.
  2. Sunday morning I woke up to my alarm going off at 8 a.m. and I immediately thought it was Monday morning and I needed to get up and go to work. Then I realized it was NOT Monday and it was glorious and I slept another half an hour and got up “early” anyway! Made a huge pot of coffee and read some of “Living Juicy” by SARK, recording her book recommendations (which are pretty woo-woo and self help-y, but I find I am drawn towards this type of stuff a lot lately) and basked in the morning of nothing-to-do. I have also been researching about artist residencies (I’ve got this book out from the library), specifically those in the Pacific NW region of this world. There’s a place called the Sitka Center for Art & Ecology that looks particularly magical. Been mostly just stirring up some info, planting some seeds of intention here & there and wondering if/when I might venture into residency-land in the next year of my life. Friend and fellow UArts fiber-grad Jen Gin recommended told me recently that Penland changed her life and that I need to go. Hmmm…I mean, look at this place.

    Beautiful images of the Sitka Center from dawnstetzelsitkacenter.blogspot.com


  3. I had leftover Daiya mozzarella-style “cheese” from the pizza-making, and for lunch I had this on top of pasta with tomato sauce, garlic and fresh basil. Goddamn it is tasty. I couldn’t even tell you all of its ingredients, although I know it doesn’t have any soy, which is BALLER because my innards do not like soy, and it might have something-something-coconut. Ooooh! And “pea protein.” Whatever that is. Speaking food, which we were and I always seem to be, Food Club officially struck again on Friday at Matt/Alex/Jordan’s. Aka, the Fortress of Cattitude. We made sushi and I honestly think it was the best sushi round ever. This is how making sushi with food club always goes down: start early, drink lots of beer. Wait for what seems like ages for the rice to be done. Chop vegetables. BUTTLOADS. Some you might like to try: green onion, alfalfa or radish sprouts, red pepper, carrot, cucumber, butternut squash (TRUST ME), sweet potato (TRUST ME MORE), pickled beets (JUMP OFF THIS CLIFF WITH ME), mango, kimchi. Other ingredients: cream cheese, sriracha or that dank chili-garlic sauce, sesame seeds. Do this while waiting some more for rice to cool. Drink more beer. Then finally make the damn sushi and make everyone wait while all of your rolls are ready to be sliced and arranged delicately on a pretty plate and then realize you have made way too much sushi and continue to eat it all, anyway. Sit in food coma/stupor with a bellyache (well worth it). The end. P.s. Maybe I’m done talking about Sushi in 5things? Or maybe not.
  4. My weekend obsession was owning this glorious pen in 16 different colors. Perhaps you’re familiar with Acute Art/Office Supply Lust. I will admit: it’s absurd. I haven’t felt such a fever for an object of art-making in a long while. Maybe not since I was obsessed with gouache and Dr. PH Martin’s ink last year. Anyway, I finally buckled and purchased a 16-pk of these puppies for a shamefully low price from the website of a shameful corporation, whose name I will keep secret to protect my spotless, tree-hugging reputation. Despite the shame, I am excited to start drawing in 16 super-human colors once they arrive in our mailbox. In the meantime, please enjoy this vintage advertisement:

  5. Since I was too busy working on my BLOG all dang day Sunday and missed my usual “family dinner time,” I called up Ma & Pa on Monday night and asked invited myself over for dinner. My mom leaves on a 10-day trip to Turkey this Thursday (buffered by one day in NYC at both the front & tail end of her travel days), and my dad leaves Friday for an 8-day trip back East to visit my brother, sister(s) and my deceased grandfather’s wife Norma. Norma who came of age in the 30s and 40s and worked as a typist and a journalist, went to an all-women’s college and is always encouraging me to build my writing portfolio, like,physically with photocopies of everything I’ve ever published. Which isn’t too shabby of an idea, but I’m not sure how I’d recoup everything in print that has my name on it. It’s still a very sweet gesture. Norma lives in the house in Kent, CT that she shared with my grandfather Paul for 25+ years. It’s an odd-smelling, creaky, dense, musty house filled with exotic sculpture from Zambia and Tanzania, ancient-feeling rugs, lots of VHS tapes and cat hair. 
  6. ANYWAY, after dinner Mom kept asking “Where are the cookies?” but Dad & I forgot to get any at the store and she looked dismayed. But all was not lost; we ate honeydew melon (yes, that one) and I couldn’t find the 30+-year-old melon-baller that’s been in our family since before I can remember. Instead, I used the perfectly round stainless steel measuring spoon (1 tsp) and it made the most delightful melon balls! Have you ever had an ice-cold honeydew melon ball? Do yourself a favor. Then I wanted to show my parents my new blog and my mom said, “Hver snakk om sitt,” which sounds like “hvair snock ohm seet” and is a Norwegian saying that means “Each talks about his/her own [stuff].”  It’s a tongue-in-cheek remark you can use when you’d like to subtly point out that the topic of conversation has mysteriously turned away from you and towards whoever you’re talking to. You can also shorten it and just say, “Snakk om sitt,” which is even punchier and wittier, apparently. My mom spent 16 months in Norway in 1968-69, as a student with AFS. She is fluent in Norwegian.
All I ever talk about is food.
-posted by Emily
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It never quite happens how you plan it, and when it does, it’s a miracle.

+ (5)Cinq Choses + Vendredi/Samedi + 30/01 Septembre/Octobre + 2011 +

  1. I dropped out of school.  Such a sad, and disheartening blow of a thing to do.  After much deliberation and the buying of textbooks I am currently not a student.  I called Financial Aid and the helpful person on the other end (this is not sarcastic, they seemed genuinely sad and tried to be supportive of my decision) told me I could use the dispersement meant for this term and split it up between Winter and Spring terms, but there is an air of defeat around me now.  And I will probably just wait the year and go in the fall when I am an official resident, but it’s nice to know I have the option of Winter/Spring, as it might give me the semblance that my whole plan of moving up here to be a student is not completely in vain.
  2. I met up with Katie Z. for coffee, who has a great androgynous style about her that she pulls off nicely and that I appreciate and admire.  Katie is funny, and so, so awkward, but she is kind and warm and gracious.  While we were sitting in the sun, a bee flew into her coffee.  It was kind of sad.
  3. I met Elizabeth at the North Portland Library after she got out of her yoga class, where I returned some books and printed out a copy of resume draft #324.  We walked around for a while, sitting by the fountain at Peninsula Park and lamenting about the changes of plans that we weren’t counting on.  My failure to be back in school, her failure to be back in Nicaragua, we are both running out of money.  Our failures and then our blessings, where we both admit to good fortune, and know that things will always work out in the end.  We walked some more, and then ended up at a little utilitarian playing field on the corner of Kerby and Alberta.  We sat on her yoga mat that she had been carrying around because the grass was a little wet.  Lucifer rolled in the grass, rolled and rolled, snorting and scratching and blissing out so hard.  He is captivating when he does this.  It really might be my favorite thing that he does right now (other examples are when he “makes his bed” by scratching at rugs or carpets, and what I call his “dinosaur noises” that he only started doing in the last couple of years).  Elizabeth started going though her phone and suggesting networks of people she knows about for potential jobs.  It was very encouraging, as she seems in the know about a lot, and has a lot of hustle with a lot of people.  I’m moving the rest of my stuff this weekend, and Elizabeth offered to help me with the big stuff, so we will do that tomorrow and then go to Portland’s Greek Festival, drink beer, and eat spanakopita and those little deep fried bread balls drenched in honey, and it will be good and rewarding.  It’s the little things.
  4. Seeing as how it was Meredith’s birthday, I was happy to see her feeling so much better then she has been all week with her bunk back.  Earlier in the day they drove out to Lake Oswego to buy some gluten-free cupcakes for the birthday times.  She split up the four that they had bought and we all shared, my favorite being one called “Hot Chocolate”, followed by the lemon-raspberry. Jeremy and Sam both were eating the Mexican chocolate one, and Jeremy kept making an amazing/confusing face.  “What’s wrong?” I asked, “is it gross?”  “Oh, that is his face of approval,” Meredith informed me, and Jeremy nodded emphatically with crumbs falling out of his mouth.  Then they were off to a different birthday party, just like that.  Sam was going to a party also, and he wore a suit.  He looked amazing.  Damn, that man is handsome.
  5. I went to Katie Z’s house for Evan’s birthday party.  I didn’t really know anyone there except for Katie, but it was okay and I do alright mingling.  I was planning on not staying too late, but after a couple of hours I had met some really nice folks, and two other ladies named Mary which doesn’t happen too often, though Mary and I discussed that old lady names are making a comeback.  Mary is also a twin, and we ended up discussing twin experiences with another lady (whose name has left me) who is the older sister of twins.  Me personally, I am not a twin, so I can’t even pretend to know anything really.  Katie, Evan and I all danced to John Maus and the Rolling Stones “Emotional Rescue” which was great fun.  THEN!  In true form, I decided then and there that that was the crux of the night and therefore it was time to leave. So I did, just like that.
    -posted by Mary
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Seven-burrito week

5 cosas • Domingo/Lunes • 25/26 Septiembre  • 2011

  1. Mom and I were at Whole Foods (Sugar House) on Sunday night shopping for dinner ingredients. Going to WF (or any grocery store) with my mom is always entertaining, but on this particular evening, something amazing and totally Seventeen Magazine-worthy happened to me. So, Dr. Kathy (mom) and I are waltzing into WF on the hunt for melons. Having seen only watermelons (including these ridiculous “personal” watermelons, like regular watermelons but smaller, have you guys seen them? And they have stickers that say “PERSONAL SEEDLESS WATERMELON,” pretty amazing and First World privilege-y, “I simply don’t take seeds in my fruit.”), we were searching for the honeydew or cantaloupe variety. A nice-looking bearded gentleman named Kale (totally real name) probably sensed our frantic energy and approached us, asking if he could help us find something. My mom asked where the honeydew/cantaloupe were, and he said, “Oh yeah, we have those. They’re in the back. Let me go grab you one,” to which my mom called a bit desperately, “I want a really ripe one!!” Five minutes later, Kale returned with a giant honeydew, handing it to my mom with one caveat: “I’d honestly give it a day or so, but it’ll be really good.” My mom sniffed the butt of the melon and confirmed its ripeness with a “Oh yes. This one’s gooood,” then we thanked Kale and turned towards the pears. My mom, thinking he’d gone far away, says to me all under-her-breath, “He was more interested in your melons.” What Mom didn’t realize was that Kale was actually RIGHT BEHIND HER. He hadn’t gone ANYWHERE. And he totally heard her. Not like, he might have heard her? I don’t know? NO. He heard her. Because he was stocking pears nary 3 feet away. Mortifying (if I were 15).

    Kind of like this, FACTS ABOUT YOUR BOSOM

  2. Ma & I cooked up a fuggin’ delicious meal (sweet potatoes, steamed chard – not kale, sautéed zucchini and beets from Dad’s garden breaded all-natural chicken with GRAVY holy hell). Then we ate strawberries. Talked about our Thanksgiving trip Eastwards – very exciting! Planning to be in NY Tues 11/22 through Sun 11/27, then bus to Philly Sun-Tues for a quick visit with dear friend/soulmate Joanna (and other Philly staples). I want to fly out of Philly because I’m more familiar with that airport and it’s easier and cheaper to get there – $9 on the train or something. Dad & I ended up watching a documentary called peladaa film that two would-be soccer pros made together, travelling through 25 different countries and experiencing different pick-up soccer games. Pelada is a Brazilian word that literally means “naked,” or a game that has been stripped down to its essentials. It was interesting and slightly whiny (“I’m white and privileged and want to go prooooooo but now I’m 28 and WAY TOO OOOOOLD”) but I am just being judgmental there. Mostly really awesome stories like paying drug-dealing thugs 3,000 bolivianos to play pick-up soccer in a trapezoid-shaped court inside a Bolivian prison, buying fake Euro Cup soccer tickets, filming and interviewing construction workers who play pick-up soccer on their lunch break while building the World Cup stadium in Johannesburg, South Africa… etc…
  3. Oh hey, it’s Monday Morning (Fleetwood Mac. Great jam.) and we hear the lawn-care dudes arriving to go about their business at precisely 8:30 a.m. It’s not the most pleasant alarm clock; BZZZZZRRRRTTTT through every window of the house. I don’t like it, but it’s not really our choice (homeowner’s). I can’t help but think what a waste of labor and time and energy and fuel it is. Plus they use one of those BLOWERS which is so absurd for our kind of hippie-dippie house – we’re made of dirt, dirt dirt dirt everywhere, peace on earth, maaaaan, knamean? It scare s the chickens (but then, lots of things do). There’s no way our lawn needs to be trimmed and manicured every week. In the summer before Louise (homeowner) hired the dudes, Jake would only really mowe once every three-four weeks! Nothing like the smell of gasoline and the sound of an edger/blower that early in the morning. (Blarf)
  4. Work work work. It’s full-swing Fall 2011 semester for these way-too-hard-working-and-stressed-out-kids. Life’s too short, knamean? But whatevskis. I got a paycheck. I will not complain. Walked to jade market on my break for supplement to my lunch, which thus far only consisted of a bunch of mixed greens on the way to compost if someone didn’t eat ’em soon (rescued from my parents’ fridge). I was looking for dressing and I found Brianna’s HONEY MUSTARD dressing, which has a picture of an avocado sliced in half, saying “Great with ripe avocados!” I’ll admit, I fell right into that marketing trap. Bought a HUGE avocado too, and a bag of chips. On the way back to HGL, the funny perky owner of The Rose, Erika, sauntered by and, seeing my bundle of goodies, gasped, “No way! I was JUST ABOUT to buy avocado AND chips, too!” I was like, “Were you also going to get HONEY MUSTARD DRESSING?!” and she was like “NO” vehemently. 
  5. Ma gurl Mary started school today, very exciting also. Spen t my break listening to her describe her adorable French professeur while hanging out on the back steps watching vintage cars buzz into the gated/locked parking lot to the east of our building. A cute bullet-colored (read: dark silver) Datsun from the 60s cruised by with two miserable-looking fancy people in it.
  6. At about 9pm I biked to the library to meet up wi th Isabelle for friend Rachel’s 25th birthday drinks. I’ll admit, I roped Isabelle into coming with (aka driving my ass) to The Garage, which is about a 7 mile bike ride way up on weirdo-industrial-land Beck Street and I didn’t feel like biking alone. But I also hadn’t seen Isabelle in DAYS. Making good choices. We drove over to Rio Grande where Isa’s beau Andy and Andy’s friend Jared (who is visiting from LA) were finishing up platters of greasy Mexican food. We headed north to The Garage. What a CUTE BAR. Seriously. Isabelle & I were giggling about the layout, like who made these design decisions? i.e. “the galv anized zone,” “the hubcap zone.” Isabelle was starving and the kitchen had closed (11pm) by the time we wanted tater tots, so she ate Andy’s leftovers inside the bar, NBD.  A sweet stranger named Patrick gave me an unexpectedly tender hug after I helped him light his cigarette in the scary pit of gravel, framed in stone, on fire. Rachel is adorable and loved her card and tupperware full of cookies I brought (see my last post).  There was a rock and roll band(s) and the two frontmen did two AMAZING things:  a) shared the mike while singing and b) played guitar BACK TO BACK. And Jared had JUST said, “Man, I wanna see some mike-sharing and back-to-back guitar playing,” because it was that kind of music. AND THEY TOTALLY DID.

posted by Emily

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