I'm not proving myself to be a very consistent blogger, which I don't really mind so much. My blogging follows suit with my art-making practice and journal writing habit. I'll do it when I'm ready and when I need to (or in the case of journal writing, I'll do it until my mom reads something really embarrassing about me, but in my old age not much embarrasses me anymore). I find ways to be creative and expressive even if it's not a focused effort. Sometimes it's not every day, but I do it enough so that I don't become a stale, pathetic, purposeless human being.
Today I made amazing soup and popovers, which I was very proud of. My culinary creations aren't always this good, but today everything came together as it needed to. Then I tried knitting a scarf and failed miserably. The beauty of my knitting inspiration is that I'll forget about this incident and in another month or two I'll try another, only to fail again. Did it piss me off that I can't make a long skinny series of knots? Sure. Am I going to let that singular failure, or my lax creative discipline, make me go crazy over what I should be doing or how well I should be doing it? Maybe for part of the day, but the short answer is no.
In my last blog post back in November, I said I was going to be doing a major organizational overhaul. That hasn't happened yet and I am ok with it. Perhaps I would be a happier person if I didn't have piles of unfinished business laying around my apartment. I'll blame my angst on physics, for it's physics' fault that 500 square feet of space doesn't camoflage the vast amounts of stuff I have the way a nice big pad would. However, I've lived with piles my whole life, so I'm sure I can make it a few more weeks/months/years in this state (just perhaps not in this apartment).
I, like many, have never really been able to keep a resolution, so for the past several years I've not even given thought to making one. The same goes for this year. I have no major qualms with how I'm living my life. That said, I'm embarking on a new journey for 2010 and it has nothing to do with baby-making. I'll share this big new adventure soon enough, but for now I'm just going to keep on keeping on, enjoying each day as it comes, and getting to be better friends with my inner knitter.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
This is why
Yes, I was as happy as I seemed in this photograph on my wedding day. Kind of scary, right? My younger sister pointed out I looked like I was at a Phish concert. Except that my wedding was better. Way better, hands down.
I have the day off on Friday, so prepare to be blown away by some serious organization of the living room and non-utilized craft corner of our teeny tiny apartment. Before and after photos to follow!
xoxo
Monday, November 2, 2009
Gray day, yellow scarf
Annisquam
Some days I wake up and feel absolutely paralyzed by the fact that I haven't been physically creative in almost 5 years. I focus so intensley on what I haven't done that it keeps me from acknowledging what I know myself to be capable of. Such was my morning yesterday, which prompted the creation of this blog. Usually all I can manage in this state are the day to day tasks, mindless, constant. So making this blog was already a positive step away from the creative anxiety. Point for me.
John and I decided a car ride was in order. We could see from our living room window that it was sunny and windy, the tree branches looking like they were about to snap. The cats were having a ball chasing the flying brown and yellow leaves from window sill to window sill. What superb hunters they are! We stepped outside, completely overdressed in sweaters and scarves. It was maybe 70 degrees, probably the last time in quite a while we will see a day like this, which is both invigorating and unfortunate at the same time.
The North Shore has always been a source of renewal and inspiration to John and I. We fall in love with the area every time we take a ride, even if we've seen a particular place a thousand times. We fantasize sometimes about what town we'd like to settle down in, where we'd want to start our family. Honestly, I think we'd be happy anywhere up here, but John likes to add "anywhere where there's water or marshes", which really is pretty much everywhere. The few times we've been to West Gloucester or Annisquam, we've always been rendered speechless with the exception of frequent "this place is amazing" statements. It feels very much off the beaten path. It doesn't have the hub of business that Gloucester and Rockport have. There's not much there besides old coastal homes and the ocean, which is what we love so much about it. It's peaceful, comfortable.
We hadn't eaten yet, so once we got to Annisquam we stopped into Willow Rest. Summertime boaters come to Willow Rest's diesel pump to fuel up and get lunch. I'd always assumed it was like a quickie mart with a seasonal gas pump, but the last time we'd come to Annisquam we were told by a gallery owner we had to try this place. What I'd thought would be an overrated convenience store turned out to be an indoor farm stand and coffee shop with tables and a small bar for sit-down breakfast and lunch service. It was clean and quirky and one of those places that just makes you feel good. We sat down and I ordered curried cauliflower soup and a roasted eggplant sandwich, John had an omelet with bacon and potatoes.
Perhaps I'm alone in this, but sometimes when I'm in the right place eating something delicious and perfect, I swear I'm having a transformative religious experience. That's what it was as I sipped my soup, dipping the toasted baguette deep into the bottom of the cup. I was so content in that moment, sitting next to John in this funny little restaurant/bakery/produce market/gas station, eating my (absolutely mind-blowing delicious) soup and watching the busy chaos of the Sunday brunch crowd. There was a man across the store sifting through the open crate of fingerling potatoes while his young daughter opened every refrigerator case door to see what was within her reaching hands. The woman working behind the counter was clapping her hands to Bow Wow Wow's "I Want Candy" and that song from Empire Records - you know the one - playing on the radio. I liked the kitschy laminated floral placemats and the chalkboard with the prices of all the fruits and vegetables. I even liked paying for our meals and snacks as the clapping lady punched our total, rhythmically, into the old manual cash register.
This is the kind of experience I need from time to time. I realized that even though I rarely make art or create beautiful things, I can see it and feel it in the every day stuff. I sometimes think that's even better than having to create the beauty you want to see. Eventually I will get back to wanting to make it, but for now I'm ok just seeing it.
John and I decided a car ride was in order. We could see from our living room window that it was sunny and windy, the tree branches looking like they were about to snap. The cats were having a ball chasing the flying brown and yellow leaves from window sill to window sill. What superb hunters they are! We stepped outside, completely overdressed in sweaters and scarves. It was maybe 70 degrees, probably the last time in quite a while we will see a day like this, which is both invigorating and unfortunate at the same time.
The North Shore has always been a source of renewal and inspiration to John and I. We fall in love with the area every time we take a ride, even if we've seen a particular place a thousand times. We fantasize sometimes about what town we'd like to settle down in, where we'd want to start our family. Honestly, I think we'd be happy anywhere up here, but John likes to add "anywhere where there's water or marshes", which really is pretty much everywhere. The few times we've been to West Gloucester or Annisquam, we've always been rendered speechless with the exception of frequent "this place is amazing" statements. It feels very much off the beaten path. It doesn't have the hub of business that Gloucester and Rockport have. There's not much there besides old coastal homes and the ocean, which is what we love so much about it. It's peaceful, comfortable.
We hadn't eaten yet, so once we got to Annisquam we stopped into Willow Rest. Summertime boaters come to Willow Rest's diesel pump to fuel up and get lunch. I'd always assumed it was like a quickie mart with a seasonal gas pump, but the last time we'd come to Annisquam we were told by a gallery owner we had to try this place. What I'd thought would be an overrated convenience store turned out to be an indoor farm stand and coffee shop with tables and a small bar for sit-down breakfast and lunch service. It was clean and quirky and one of those places that just makes you feel good. We sat down and I ordered curried cauliflower soup and a roasted eggplant sandwich, John had an omelet with bacon and potatoes.
Perhaps I'm alone in this, but sometimes when I'm in the right place eating something delicious and perfect, I swear I'm having a transformative religious experience. That's what it was as I sipped my soup, dipping the toasted baguette deep into the bottom of the cup. I was so content in that moment, sitting next to John in this funny little restaurant/bakery/produce market/gas station, eating my (absolutely mind-blowing delicious) soup and watching the busy chaos of the Sunday brunch crowd. There was a man across the store sifting through the open crate of fingerling potatoes while his young daughter opened every refrigerator case door to see what was within her reaching hands. The woman working behind the counter was clapping her hands to Bow Wow Wow's "I Want Candy" and that song from Empire Records - you know the one - playing on the radio. I liked the kitschy laminated floral placemats and the chalkboard with the prices of all the fruits and vegetables. I even liked paying for our meals and snacks as the clapping lady punched our total, rhythmically, into the old manual cash register.
This is the kind of experience I need from time to time. I realized that even though I rarely make art or create beautiful things, I can see it and feel it in the every day stuff. I sometimes think that's even better than having to create the beauty you want to see. Eventually I will get back to wanting to make it, but for now I'm ok just seeing it.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Mornings
People who live in 4-season climates who claim not to suffer from seasonal depression are liars. They have to be. As the leaves on the big tree outside of our 5th floor apartment start going from summer green to a violent shade of yellow, as beautiful as it is, I can feel my heart sink into my gut. I love autumn because of all there is to see and smell and eat (mmm...cider doughnuts). It's sensory overload in the best way. However, I would be a fool to completely absorb myself in this fleeting season with the reckless abandon I'd like to. I know full well that any rainy, windy day will strip the trees of those leaves and all we'll be left with are gray skies and perpetually wet black branches.
This is the time of year I start distracting myself with beautiful things to lessen the blow of fall's quick descent into the 6-month season known as New England Winter. My distraction usually comes in several forms:
1. Obsessive online shopping where I spend hours, sometimes, filling up my cart, only to abandon it for another website, where the cycle starts over.
2. Investing far too many of my hard earned dollars in magazines about all the things I want. Martha Stewart Living, Elle Decor, Real Simple, ReadyMade, they are my porn. They allow me to fantasize deeply about how beautiful I wish my 500 square foot apartment could be. This apartment could never actually be anything that even remotely resembles beautiful, but the dream keeps me going. Cookie, Real Simple Families, Body+Soul, Fit Pregancy, for the life I would like to have sooner or later (though I've never been fit in real life, so don't ask me how I'll accomplish being fit while pregnant). Martha Stewart Weddings....I just had my wedding. MSW is just a sick addiction I'm not really ready to let go of.
3. Attempting complex recipes in my galley kitchen on my mini-stove for my husband who doesn't like adventurous food. These recipes usually fail anyway and we order chinese.
4. Planning projects, buying the supplies, then never doing them. Creative, household, etc.
My Private Sky is going to serve as an outlet for the things in life I covet or try to attain, whether it be inner tranquility, dessert plates from the flea market, or the bread pudding I tried to make the night before. The name of the blog is taken from the beautiful amazing thing I found in the most recent issue of MSW, a set of custom hand-painted dinner plates made by Nymphenburg called "My Private Sky". Seven plates map the sky as it were on any specific date, anywhere in the world. If only Nymphenburg had a shopping cart on their website, or listed prices. I would totally add these plates, then maybe the ruby-encrusted porcelain skull necklace they make, then perhaps a glass doll with red painted lips, only to abandon the cart and try to find something similar for less from Anthropologie.
By the way, if you haven't gotten me a wedding gift yet......
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