Tag Archives: dad

“I pack my suitcase with myself but I’m already gone.”

We had a major lag there for a while. Did I say “we”? I meant I DID. I HAD ONE, not you.

MARY, we will cook lots of food together, do not worry one bit about that.

I think Paul is doing okay, has probably been better, but I have this strange faith that he is psychic and maybe knew that something like this would happen to him one day in his adult life, and that he’s got these internal guides that will carry him through whatever life brings, hard stuff and good stuff, through it all. He is a truly spiritual guy and has a lot of faith in himself, at least when he’s talked to me about that sort of thing. It’s reassuring and inspiring.

It is SO GOOD to be in One’s Own Bed. Charlotte just bought a new bed this week and has been sharing similar stories of bliss. The dollar bill story reminds me of every time I think I see a dollar on the ground while on my bike. It happens more often than you might think. Maybe I’m seeing things, or maybe people lose money all the time and you just have to look out for it. And then decide not to pick it up, for whatever karmic reasons you might carry.

I love, love, love the story about riding on the sidewalk. Perfect timing. Now you can feel better about not being quick enough to quip, “I’m not asking for money on the street and I still think you’re a dumbass” to those popped collar d-bags in front of Squatters.

Lots of Things have happened between today and my last 5things. I will now list a brief summary in carefully selected words and phrases, to catch you (all of you) up:

…At Fresh Market on the way home, a dude who saw me saddling up and said I was “hardcore.” Jason (my favorite clerk) goes, “You have fenders!”
…Charlotte on the phone feels fired up and crazy after watching Ru Paul’s “Drag Race.”  We commiserate about how that show makes us feel, and she shares her recipe for red beans & rice.
…Mental stamina wearing down.
…Soundtrack this week: Honey Watts, Mountain Man, Kurt Vile and Bert Jansch.
…Mom & Dad’s trips. The car and the dog and the doctor’s appt.

5 things / Thursday-Friday / October 6-7 / 2011

  1. RAIN RAIN RAIN RAIN RAIN. Cold. Wet. Woodsmoke. These two mornings are full of late autumn: fallen leaves, deep red brick, streaky pavement, reassuring grip on my new bike tires. It feels like winter already and it’s much too early. Dad says all of the snow will melt next week and it will get temperate, normal, gradual again. This happens in Utah. Mary referred to it the other day as “bipolar” weather. I couldn’t agree more! It’s what I enjoyed most when I lived here. That there could be a completely warm, sunny and bright day in the middle of February. I believe I may be ready for more consistency, as this cold snap shocked my system and I immediately felt like SUCH A BABY. Where did the stamina and stoicism earned by all of my hard Vermont winters go? I’ve become soft, like an old pear.
     
  2. I was supposed to have a doctor’s appointment this morning, but I had to reschedule due to gnomes taking the doctor’s office hostage. So instead I used my morning to update my blog. And went into work late anyway. Hahahaa! Take that, universe! I told Dad (whose car I was borrowing for said doctor’s appointment) the truth when I returned his vehicle. But it still felt awfully surreal and luxurious. If and when I get up early enough, I love lounging and drinking coffee and writing, pretending like that’s my for real job. Maybe someday it will be! When I got into work it seemed like everything was still chugging along like normal. Jacob is at some wedding in Tennessee and everyone else was grumbling about the cold weather (it was 70 degrees and sunny three days ago, now it is 41 degrees and rain/snowing) (See Thing #1). I pulled out the ol’ heat dish which spent last winter camped three feet from my desk chair, as there are only two heat vents in the downstairs area of my work and it can feel like a well-lit cave November through March.
  3. Yo, I made BEET PATTIES for dinner Thursday night. Another recipe gleaned from the twin sister. Due to much improvisation from the original recipe, they turned out a bit confusing in texture, but I like them. Boiled about three pounds of home grown beets of various colors and shapes, plus a few nubbly white, yellow and orange carrots, tahini, and yellow onion in a blender. Then I added an egg and some chickpea flour, plus salt, pepper, curry powder and some cumin, but they were still pretty gloppy. So I added more regular all-purpose flour and a bit of cornmeal, which ended up giving them a slight polenta-esque texture. Light-fried them in some vegetable oil. Oh man. Delicious with salt & pepper & ketchup. This is a crappy phone picture of the victims, pre-boiling:

    Ready to walk the plank

     

  4. I smelled like a deep-fryer when I headed over to M&D’s. Dad gave me the house/car/dog run-down as I am house-sitting for them this whole week, until the 15th. Don’t burn the place down, keep an eye on the tomatoes out back, here’s how you make coffee with my fancy new Japanese ceramic coffee dripper and glass range server, here are the phone numbers of our neighbors, take Lucy on walks, talk to the cat, empty the compost, keep lights on and stay here as much as you’d like. Also, he says, “Don’t drive my car like I do.” Which is hilarious. He does drive like a crazyman sometimes. At least he is aware of it. (LOVE YOU DAD) Went home exhausted even though it was only 10:30. I think my thyroid is acting up again/forever.
  5. Rode into work on Friday morning and it was like I was riding straight into January. What the fudge, seriously?! It was so effing cold. It was exhilarating. I needed my woolly mittens, headband, thick socks and two jackets. There was an amazing air of REALITY riding in the cold. I reflected on this feeling all the way to work; summer is easy, lazy, challenge-free in most endeavors like “getting places” even if you’re on a bike. Actually, maybe this is only true if you’re on a bike. It’s crappy and sweaty and smells like pavement and gasoline in a car in the heat of the summer. At least on a bike you can dress almost naked and feel the wind on your entire body. In the winter you have to bundle up and feel that strange cold-hot-sweat in your armpits and back of your neck and down your boobies.
  6. I spun the length of time between phone calls at work reading about artist’s residencies, the Occupy Wall Street movement, and how overly-emotional people are getting about Steve Jobs’ death. Took Dad to the airport midday, and then I got to hang out with Lucy at work, which is always fun. Many dog owners think she is an Irish setter but she is alllllllllllll goofball golden retriever. There are lots of people who want tutoring sessions over the weekends; it is so, inexplicably difficult to line these up sometimes. But sometimes parents do not understand that the world does not drop to their knees every time their son/daughter would like a three-point improvement on their ACTs.
  7. After work, I rolled home and holed up with some echinacea tea to finish a letter to Joanna. Then I went over to Marilyn & Shari’s new mother-in-law apartment right behind their old one. It is tucked away behind the main house, and they have this cute backyard & garden zone. Shari has laid down an impressively wide stone path to discourage the dogs from tramping mud into the house during the wet months. Paul rolled in with a 6er of Natty Ice and it was so good to see him. M & S served us all incredible homemade mole sauce, with almonds, cinnamon, chile peppers, other spices… holy hell. It was so good. Next food club venture for sure (it was vegan!).
Advertisements
Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“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
Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Advertisements