gettin' crafty

I feel full of all kinds of exciting, inspired thought. It's as if I've been sleeping (or at least that my creative spark has been taking a very long nap) and suddenly it fills me up and my brain is filled with excitement for projects and creation and Doing-ness.

There's nothing like a sister's wedding to fan the flames. It's months and months of delight, when someone else is the bride and all you have to do is play with ideas and share blogs and photography sites to help her stay inspired. I love it when I don't have to feel the stress of something like planning a big event.

On the other hand, I constantly plan big events in my head, and wouldn't it be nice to plan them out loud for real? Like for weddings? For special people celebrating special things?

A couple of my favorite sources of inspiration:

Style Me Pretty

ee photography

this is glamorous

elizabeth anne designs

cup vs bowl

There is a reason one doesn't eat soup out of a cup or a narrow-mouth jar. It's not a soup bowl.

And it gets soup all over one's chin.

It is easy to reheat this way, though, and I do enjoy the sound of a proper spoon against the glass. It masks the sound of my slurping (when the soup is really delicious or extra hot).

take your soup to work in a jar. and get soup on your chin.

con-ta-gion

My ears are filled with a random music mix which is pretty great. Not amazing. Not "Oh-my-god-I-love-this-song" great, but pretty okay. I'm listening to it because I've been missing music lately and hunting through old CD's (yes, I still have lots and lots and I refuse to give them up regardless of how fancy my personal luxury item is). I also watched the movie 'Contagion' last night and I really, really liked the score.

Lately I've been hearing so very many remakes. I'm sure it's fun to take someone else's ideas and re-create them. Should you get an award for re-mixing someone else's composition?

I had begun to wonder if we've passed the point of no return. Have we a population that can no longer create new sounds? Is music on a downward spiral along with the changing climate?

I hope not. I am one of those people who is brought to tears by the beauty of groups of people singing together. I don't even have to understand the words. Live music, up close, is my favorite and oddly enough I've hardly taken time to enjoy it for a couple of years, now.

Why? Perhaps I needed this long stretch of time to realize just how much I miss it.

My faith in the musical ingenuity of humanity was restored thanks to Cliff Martinez' beautiful, haunting, creepy, lovely, thrilling score in 'Contagion'. It's like nothing I've heard before. It's new and creative and it gets you where the script doesn't (or can't). I am not wholeheartedly endorsing this movie for the plot line; I recommend it for the sound.

So, thanks, musical wonders of the world. There is hope for us, yet.

biohazard zombie contagion sticker credit

black + berry = delicious

I love blackberries. I love them a lot. I'd characterize it as more of a passionate, sparkling affair.

Vine-ripened, they are just about the most delicious thing I've ever tasted. They are summer, freedom, fun, giggling, adventure, end-of-a-hot-day sighs. Perfection.

Every summer (assuming I'm in the Northwest), I head out with my pails (typically a random assortment of plastic tubs). I dress in hardy clothing (if I don't, there will be blood). I wear tough shoes (again, with the blood). And then I pick. I pick a lot. Enough for pies and crisp, ice cream and breakfast (which is often crisp). I freeze it for later, and savor every bite. There is something about this amazing, weed-like vine (it grows like crazy out here!) offering nature's bounty that delights me to no end. If I don't make at least one blackberry crisp, I feel it as a loss.

Blackberry picking is the perfect combination of danger, tantalizing moments, sweetness, and effort. Danger because the thorny vines grab and poke and tear your skin (ask a friend who tried to wear shorts and sandals out picking with us last year). Tantalizing moments because the best, biggest, ripest berries are always just out of arms' reach. Sweetness, because, well, they're ripe berries. And effort for the hours of reaching, and narrowly escaping sharp thorns, for the hot sun, the little spiders, and the standing on tip toes or reaching from ladders. All of this is totally worth it.

This Labor Day weekend we (I had help) picked nearly 4 gallons of blackberries. We picked at a place I've been going since childhood, where the berries get so big that just two of them can fill your hand. I have to remind myself to eat them as I'm picking, because since the age of about 9 it occurred to me that if I didn't eat so many as I was picking, I'd have loads more to cook with and munch on later...

We made a cobbler. Then we made a crisp. We made vanilla ice cream to go with the crisp. We ate the crisp after dinner, and again for breakfast. It's delicious with yogurt. It's probably delicious with bacon and sandwiches.

My crisp recipe is one of the best. It has come from years of practice, having to make it up when I didn't have the recipe with me, adding more of this because we were out of that. It's best just out of the oven, when the crisp is still crispy and the berries still hot. It is a delectable combination of brown sugar, butter, old fashion oats, flour, and cinnamon. Sometimes I add nutmeg. With apple crisp I add a little bit of powdered ginger. With blackberries, I add almost no sugar to the berries themselves because the sweet topping and the sweet-tart flavor of the berries is the perfect combination.

After our picking extravaganza, I lugged a giant plastic bag of berries home with me and it is sitting in our fridge, taunting me with its potential. I put blackberries in my breakfast this morning. Tonight I might make jam.

photo credits:

Blackberry Crisp

Tiny crisp

Fresh Blackberries

here we go again

As the leaves start their autumnal procession (suddenly, shockingly beginning to change colors just in time to greet September) I am motivated by the urge to grasp every last moment of summer. Grilling, dips in the lake, sailing, walking under umbrellas of greenery, making fresh summer-things salads... These will all too soon seem a distant, shaded memory replaced with candlelight and rain, puddles, and piles of crispy leaves.

Have we come this far? Will I survive until next summer without bare feet or a sun-kissed nose? I'm not ready, I tell you.

the changing room

It was a hot weekend and we had a wedding to go to. Rather than sweat all the way to the hotel in our pretty dresses and three-piece suits, we decided to leave it for the last minute and change when we arrived.

We parked in a dim garage that was pretty empty (luckily for us) and spent a few minutes fixing hair and donning our satin and heels. Ours was a hippie changing room, reminiscent of silent-film-era movies when all the action is sped up. Cars rolled slowly by, their passengers giggling at these girls and boys madly changing out of their summer shorts into fancy suits and cocktail dresses. We used our Volkswagon pop-top camper to change, and we even had our dog.

At one point we took out a folding camper chair so I could apply my sister's makeup. An older gentleman walked by and chuckled. He teased the dog, who was watching patiently. I could almost hear him shaking his head, saying, "Silly hippie kids" and reminiscing about his past as the boy in the boxer shorts standing behind the van, pulling on his suit trousers, and knotting his tie.

scabs

You shouldn't scratch at them.

Nor should you talk about how scratchy that flaky patch on your arm is while you're working at a cash register.

It's just a thought, but I'm pretty sure everyone would agree with me. And your neighbor? Why is she mumbling that it's unsanitary and that she's leaving for 10 minutes and is hoping that when she comes back you're not itchy anymore?

Is it contagious? Should you really be at work touching my legal size envelopes and those pens that I'm about to hold with my bare hands?

This was my enchanting adventure on a quick trip to the office supply store today. Usually my walks up and down the aisles filled with organizing bins and special-tip pens leaves me feeling happy and inspired. This time was different. I really really need to find some more hand sanitizer. I used all mine.

PS When you're using hand sanitizer or hand soap, try using one without your typical anti-bacterial. It's bad for the environment.