Overheard conference call from upstairs:
(Kate on phone)
OK, so the profanity filter is working, but “ass” isn’t listed. So we need to add “ass” to the list of words.
9 Sep
Carpe Diem…
September 6
We woke up with two plans today. Black sand beach in the morning followed by a sunset cruise around the Caldera in the evening. We had our lovely poolside breakfast and grabbed the first shuttle out. The Parissa beach is entirely made of black volcanic stones (hot as asphalt) and the clearest, calm blue waters ever. We lounged about in a couple of long chairs under the palm fronds of an umbrella, relaxing and reading to the soundtrack of the breeze and the small waves gurgling through stones. Very nice, if you ask me.
After a few hours, we grabbed the shuttle back in time for our ride to the port. What are the chances. Our boat maties were another lady couple wrapping up their honeymoon. Of course we hit it off right away. Add to that they’re from brussels, one of our favorite places, and we had a blast.
The catamaran sail boat (named “Carpe Diem”) took us all around the caldera (the old volcano that made those black beaches… the red beaches and white beaches and made the wine taste so good). It’s probably the worst/best thing that could have happened there. We saw the largest lighthouse on the island, those aforementioned beaches, high cliffs with endless white-washed buildings. Then we pulled into a small inlet where we swam in the icey, then jaccuzzi waters of a volcanic hot spring. The rocks were midnight black and the waters hot, orange and very much sulfur. You could smell it and see the rust forming on your skin and bathing suit. It was incredible (not to wash off). .
After boarding again, we rode around to see where a hermit lives on the island. He believes he owns it. He and his goat, dog and apparently, cell phone. I can’t imagine how he pays his bills. The dinner bell sounded and we were invited to the dinner table for a feast. They grilled right on the boat: pork chops, sausages, fresh pita bread, grilled feta, salad, homemade tatziki and eggplant dip. The works. We toasted with wine and with our new friends and ate everything. Gluttony at it’s finest.
After dinner, we returned to the front of the boat and watched the sun set orange and lavender across the endless sky and the mountainous islands strewn across those waters. A truly spectacular sight.
7 Sep
Happy birthday in Exo Gonia
September 5
I turned 31 today. 30 was a year full of wonderful, but starting off 31 in Greece AND with my new wife was pretty darn awesome.
I sleep with a mouthguard to prevent grinding, because I am a masochist and work in advertising. Jaime woke me with a big hug and proudly presented me with a cute card of a dog missing its dentures. “I wuv thist” I said through the plastic.
We started the day with an in-room breakfast. A feta and tomato omlette, fresh pastries and a whole pot of delicious coffee. We agreed to take the 11 am shuttle to the island of Fira.. then take the day organically.
We perused the shops specializing in glass work, figures of porcelain and tourist shit and wriggled through the narrow streets, snapping photos like paparazzi; the angles, shapes, views and colors could not be captured as we saw with our eyes, so we blinked hard and saved the memory.
We continued to wander through the labyrinth of stone streets until we hit the top of the donkey trails. The asses, though very cute, stunk like hell. We opted out of the ride and instead took pictures in their direct path. Jaime was nearly trampled. I have a photo to prove it.
After our donkey photo session, we ventured up to a taverna which clung to the edge of the cliff. We got a seat with one of the better views and ordered some lunch. I had the spanikopita and Jaime a fresh fish with a sweet grill. This time she deboned herself (sans the teeth)… even pretended to swallow a bone at which I played along and said I did see something protruding from her esophagus. Aren’t we cute.
After lunch we wandered back through the streets, raced past the creepy guy trying to sell us wine and cheese and slowed to a casual pace to catch the 2:15 (pronounced here as “two-fifty”) shuttle.
We returned to the room and rested for a bit. The heat and climbing hills take the juice out of you.
Refreshed, we headed over to see Demetria and do some grape stomping. What was it like? Awesome. The grapes tickled my feet. The family takes the process quite seriously – they even have a system where they stomp for so many minutes and then rotate the grapes. They were very kind and welcoming, though… even let us try the fresh stomped juice. I declined because I am not that cool. Jaime said it was delicious however. (This particular bottle of Vincento wine will be out in 2017. ‘It’s shake-n-bake and I helped’). Demetria comped us a couple of tastes for our labour and then we were on our way.
For dinner, we dressed nice and took a taxi to MetaxeMas in Exo Gonia (the place recommended to us by the man with the photo store). The taxi dropped us off in a parking lot next to a church. There was nothing else around for at least. .25 miles. Jaime noticed a wall painted to read “taverna” and shepherded me down the stone road to the taverna entrance.
We sat at the edge of the cliff – overlooking the village, the mountains, the distant ocean and the Caldera. The sun and moon were trading places in the periwinkle sky and Jaime and I were speechless.
The waiter brought us some Raki, bread, green olives and fresh greek gruyere cheese. Jaime and left the olives for the gods and enjoyed the rest.
For apps, we shared the sesame crusted fried gruyere and the baked eggplant with tomato sauce and feta. Amazing. For dinner I had pork tenderloin with feta creme sauce and rice pilaf while Jaime enjoyed the pork ribs and potatoes dripping with a honey-orange sauce.
When I asked for the bill, the waiter said “No. You have dessert, then you can go.” (Jaime had told him it was my birthday). He returned within minutes with two tiny portions of the fluffiest strawberry cheesecake and some cinnamon-honey homemade Raki. What a treat!
Our taxi on the drive back took us through the pitch dark back roads and talked on his cellphone. It was so fun! I had one hand on the door handle and another on my seatbelt the entire 8 min. We got to the hotel safely and in time for the church bell to ring 10 times. Jaime smiled.
In the room was the most beautiful vanilla cake with chocolate mousse and chocolate icing. She got me a cake! They gave us two serving spoons (awesome) and when I blew out my candle I wished I would never take for granted how lucky I am.
6 Sep
Arctic Char?
September 4
After our ferry rocky arrival in santorini (puny no?), we made it to the wildly hectic port where tourists heaved bags and attitudes every which way and locals kept offering their rooms to let. Our driver picked us up and took us through wine country and across endless dry fields to the tiny village of megalachori where our hotel was. The village still maintained its authenticity as we were probably the only commercial entity for miles. The hotel blended in with its volcanic rock walls, some white-washed, and cavernous rooms. The tunnel like shape of every room kept it naturally insulated. Its the method they’ve built for wine storage but later realized it kept an even temp for living in such extreme heat or cold winters. The wine bar is in a 400 year old wine cave and the restaurant is medieval, dark and only lit by torches and candles. The rooftop pool overlooks an old church clock tower that chimes every ten minutes or so and the grounds host dark metal sculpture work, the one out our bedroom window is made of old boat parts reconstructed haphazardly. We were welcomed in with a glass of local sparkling wine and a grand tour. Our room is completely white with hints of volcanic rock peaking through. The floors she tells us are made of sand painted over. Each window is a dark blue shutter with ancient facets and handles. From each you could look out to our terrace or bouganvilia flowers creeping past pomegranate trees full of fruit.
We get settled in and spend the day poolside reading, hearing faint sounds of a dog, sometimes a confused rooster and the ever-persistent clock bell.
After a few chapters and hours we decide to explore the village with its narrow stone paths, quintessential white domed or squared house with blue doors, bell towers and churches. At the top of a hill we could see the mountains in the distance and those fields of grape vines. They train the vines into low wreathes on the ground instead of across trellis because of the high winds. Even the cherry tomato plants look like tiny half dead bushes on the dry sand. But the fruit is ripe and sweeter than anything. We discover a family winery. Gavales winery is 5 generations family run and their method hasn’t changed. The building is over 300 years old. We see grapes laying across the grounds drying for what the daughter Gavales tells us is the method for making the famous vincanto sweet wine. Dimitria gives us tastes of most varieties and tells us they are stomping grapes tomorrow. We could help. Of course we will.
We leave and discover some small art shop. The owner tells us about his work. I, as always, get dinner recommendations. Ill save that for Kate’s birthday.
We go to Rake for dinner right by the clock tower. Its simple taverna tables are shaded by a trellis with pink bouganvilia vines twisting around it. Above that is a giant tree filled with chatty finches. The table next to us has a group of old men gossiping about whatever. Their wives pass by with the children rolling their eyes and hollering across the square. Another group of older kids run and play hide and seek up and down stairs and around the houses. Its more than local. We order the special. The waiter says what it is. Kate repeats “arctic char?” The waiter “yes”. We start with the most fantastic eggplant salad made with their white, sweeter eggplants and then dinner arrives. “Where’s the fish?” “I don’t know” “ohhhh” “artichoke” “ohhhh” it was delicious anyway. We’re bound to lose some things in translation. It was a perfect start to our days in santorini.
5 Sep
The restroom on the ferry to Santorini
A lot happened today.
We’ll start with the most fantastic sunrise. We both slept nervous the night prior…fretting that we would oversleep and miss the boat. Literally. We woke just a few minutes before the sun stretched it’s coral red beams out from Spinalonga.
Jaime ordered coffee sans bread. They brought coffee with 4 mini chocolate chip cookies. I saved those for the boat ride.
Our taxi driver was a nice man…57 and eager to get his pension so that he may have more time to enjoy his garden. He took us up through the winding backroads at 85 mph. He too drove a Mercedes. The views were spectacular…we saw goats and sheep and even some grapes. He explained to Jaime how much he loved to garden. Jaime bragged about her cucumbers and he told her to try them with some salt and a drink of liquor I could not pronounce. He explained that with the right crops and animals, you could survive just fine. And then I realized… there were no supermarkets or targets/walmarts. Life is so simple here and people are happy.
We got to the ferry 45 min early, which gave us ample time to get our tickets, find our seats, use the restroom and fight with a lady (very rude ) over our seat. I won the fight. Jaime was in the bathroom. The woman’s husband convinced her she wasn’t reading her ticket correctly. She did not apologize.
In the final stretch of the ferry ride – when the wake was at it’s highest and we had been airborne about twice, I decided that I really needed to use the restroom. I expressed my love to Jaime, grabbed the metal handle and hoisted myself into the pinball machine. There was a handle on every other row, so I recalled my learnings from gym class with Mr Kensy and flung myself from row to row as if I were on vertical monkey bars. This was amusing to both myself and other passengers until I hit the peukers in the back. I held my breath, put my hands to my sides and cried “WC?” to the man behind the stale doughnut counter. He pointed to a metal wall draped with sick passengers. I frowned and flung myself in that direction.
The door was a push which is just dumb. I understand the safety rationale, but when you’re on a ferry in 5′ waves… well – you turn the handle, fly in, bash against an occupied stall door and then bash in the other direction into the sink counter only to get your shorts wet with what you pray is water.
I entered the stall. The seat was up. There was a “brace-yourself bar” on the right. There was pee on the floor. What happened next can only be reenacted… but I am sure all of the angels and saints in heaven laughed their asses off.
I made it out clean and safe, ping-ponged my way past the peukers and into my seat. Jaime was laughing when I returned – I suspect she had been laughing the entire time.
We arrived to our hotel around 1. We will tell you about it – and of our trip to Fira – tomorrow.
4 Sep
A yellow Vespa
September 3
We skipped coffee and bread for 10 today and headed out by 9 for our Vespa adventure.
We met Pierre ( french actor who played a role in a movie about Spinalonga – had pictures to prove it) and his (our) yellow Vespa just a few minutes past the hour. Pierre lived in Plaka next door and couldn’t speak more highly of the town and environment. He took some information from me, showed me how to start the bike and the function for all of the controls – then sent us on our way.
For you first time riding a Vespa do not have a passenger. Get used to your own weight and then add theirs. We practiced riding and turning in an employee parking lot. No one seemed phased by our erratic “scooting” and near misses on every turn. Once I was doing figure eights, I knew we were ready.
We stopped 2 miles out in a town called, Elounda and had an iced coffee. The town was sleepy and kind of forgettable, so I convinced Jaime that we should go further.
We rode the winding terrain another 7 miles to Agios Nikolaus and smiled in the beauty. The town is shaped like an S and is surrounded by crystal clear water on both sides. We parked in front of a boutique where Jaime would buy a beautiful sun dress and I a postcard.
After shopping, we explored the back streets… white facades, blooming hibiscus trees and lots of stain glass in the windows. What a find!
We turned a corner to find more shops and stopped into one which was showcasing the art of a locally renowned glass blower. Her colors were all the best of pastel and she would blow into old beaten cans and other scraps of reworked metal. Jaime got me a vase as a gift. I love it.
We chatted up the store owner for a bit, then Jaime asked him for lunch recommendations. He sent us down to the beach heavily populated with locals and their naked babies. We ate looking out at the water. Jaime had a fresh salad with smoked salmon and dried tomatoes; I had zucchini balls and a Cretan salad with hard boiled eggs, potatoes, feta and the freshest tomatoes I’ve ever tasted. Oh and I had a coca-cola in a bottle… it was the responsible thing to do.
After lunch we happened into a couple more shops…found a tiny yellow model Vespa and had to buy it for keepsake. Then we headed back.
The ride back was as majestic as the ride there, but the wind had picked up. Picture us going 45 mph in 50 mph wind on top of a winding mt 100 meters high (with no guard rails) on a yellow Vespa scattered with ads that read “we rent bikes!” Now picture a line of 5 cars behind us…desperate for a straightaway so they can pass. Now picture Jaime video taping the whole thing. Now picture me:
“Kate, where are we?”
“Just shut up!”
Aside from a wrong turn which led is deep into a farming village, we did pretty well. We returned to the hotel full of giggles and with over an hour of pool time to enjoy before our massage appointments. It’s a hard knock life.
We are now on the ferry to Santorini. I’m fighting the urge to vomit as there are a lot of waves. We have a window seat though, so here’s hoping we see some dolphins.
The guy next to me just burped. He may vomit as well.
More soon!
2 Sep
Spinalonga and the hanging drawers
I was woken around 8:30 to the glorious sunlight bursting into the room. Jaime had ordered us breakfast which would be arriving in moments. I covered my face in blankets and waited until she called for me outside.
Breakfast was amazing – delicious coffee with fresh creme, fresh fruit, warm pastries and enough bread of four varieties to feed our entire floor.
We ate outside and gazed out to Spinalonga Island cradled in the gulf of Elounda. We would visit there in just over one hour.
We took a 29 Euro half mile speedboat ride to Spinalonga. The water was so crystal clear ice blue that I longed to jump off and swim. The gentleman docked us and we hopped on to the island which to our dismay was oozing with tourists waiting for their guide to start. We got our tickets and rushed past them and up. We went all the way to the top where the wind yanked our clothes nearly off. The views were incredible. Every angle was a photo opp. The island itself is peaceful, but sad. This was a refuge for people with leprosy. We could not imagine how they must have felt… under the hot sun with no coverage – surrounded by salt water. There are remains of their small town, what’s left of homes, probably a post office, wood burning stoves and before that, an ancient Venetian fortress. We have a perfect view of the whole island from our fancy private terrace and pool. We spent over an hour climbing around the stones and through tunnels. Would you believe wild onions were growing in the desert-like sand and gravel. It made me miss my garden. I thought of how I might prepare them then. though picking onions from leprosy island might not be the best idea.
Zeus and homer gave us a lift to Plaka, a tiny old fishing town near the resort. Since all the men here look like greek gods or part of some epic- not to mention one of course had a tattoo of posseidon – I named them as such. Plaka was about a minute big. You could see all of it and the walk back would take more time. But it was charming. Little shops and fish restaurants haggling you to eat there. Zeus recommended giorgios so we went there. Kate tried to order the sword fish but the waiter said “you don’t want. It’s frozen. You have Dorado. Fresh today.” We both got the Dorado. A whole fish a piece that was cleaned by a sailer who travelled the seas of the whole world. It came with potatoes and zucchini. It was the best meal we’ve had in so long. The most simply spectacular grilled fish ever. We ate everything while sitting on the water overlooking our newly conquered island and the boats that catches our meal. Kate mistakenly shared with a tiny stray kitty who then wouldn’t leave her side. It was perfect. Sometimes you have to trust the source. We thanked them and complimented the chef who sent us a plate of watermelon in gratitude. We’ve had more desserts on the house this week then I can count. I don’t know if it’s because they want to feed us or if they’re just not used to such gracious american tourists. Probably the latter. The rest of the day was spent poolside, had a midday ice cream because we could and dinner at the italian restaurant at the resort. Did we mention they sent champagne and nibbles to the room? We still haven’t fished the fruit bowl and ouzo from yesterday. Though, we didn’t touch the ouzo. Ick. Licorice.
Tomorrow is already here. Im thinking beach and spa day. Maybe another Dorado.
Wait! Jaime forgot the funny story! So I did some wash…underwear and some tanks…and lain it outside to dry. When we were walking back from lunch, the wind picked up and I worried it may all be in the neighbors pool. It was not. Instead it was strewn all about the outdoor furniture like Christmas decorations. Apparently the cleaning staff wanted to ensure it was dry by our return. Emotion = mortified.
More soon!
31 Aug
About Crete
We woke to our 6:40 wakeup call, chugged some coffee, hustled out of the hotel grande bretagne and into a taxi to the airport in Athens. We decided to take a cab vs. The metro… didn’t want to deal with the commuting rush hour. The ride was nice…got to see the changing of the guards and some really awesome sculptures.
A 45 min plane ride and we were in majestic crete. We collected our bags and hailed a Mercedes cab. An hour drive into the island and we were at the resort. Holy crap. Words can’t describe it … so here are some pictures.
Tomorrow we check out the village and neighboring island, spinalonga
30 Aug
Day 1
We had a very awesome first day. We woke to a march at 11:34. Slept 12. Jaime got us coffee and we walked 20 min to the Acropolis. It was incredible to see the work from over two thousand years. Athena was nowhere to be found. But we saw plenty of columns, street performers and the most spectacular view of the city.
Afterwards we walked around the Plaka. We bought some souvenirs including two more pieces for my car collection. Then I lost my mind from hunger. We ate at a nice place. Had eggplant dip with warm pita for an app. Then I ordered the Moussaka and Jaime had a souvlaki mix…chicken, beef and sausage. She gave me the sausage.
After lunch we wandered into a rug shop. Jaime had spotted a pillow case she liked. The owners took to us. Asked us about our lives, gave us wine and showed us 15 floor rugs…each with a different story. Susie (owner) had us pegged. Jaime would say “how much” then “no” kate would say “but it’s so pretty” and “it’ll go great in your office.” Sue “squeezed lemons” for us with her calculator and we left 20 minutes later with two glasses of wine, a rug, a pillow case wrapped like a handbag in ductape by herkules and a recommendation for Theo’s aunt’s taverna for dinner. From there we walked past the seedy flea market, the ancient agora and back to the hotel pool for a quick and needed frozen rooftop dip. Now for showers and dinner with Theo’s aunt and maybe a glass of grappa in thissio. I probably spelled everything wrong. Meh. Happy honeymoon day 1. Tomorrow off to Crete. Weeee.
Ps. Jaime hijacked my post… can you tell?
PPS. No toilet seats in public restrooms. Squat or you’re screwed
23 Aug
Ikea Hacker Approved
Remember when I posted this little bit about the nightstand I made Kate?
Well, it’s now up on Ikea Hackers.net.
Scope it!
http://www.ikeahackers.net/2011/08/malma-mirror-nightstand-storage-thingy.html
23 Aug
Unfair
Kate and I were invited to go see a logrolling/chopping/splinter-inducing event this weekend. We were all jazzed about going on a tiny, 1 hour-long road trip on a sunny Sunday afternoon. We’ve never been on fair rides together. How exciting!
We listened to happy music, sang terribly, ogled an outlet mall on the way…
And then we took this photo instead.
10 Aug
Kate, upon killing a spider in our bedroom
Kate: ::kills spider with slipper::
Jaime: Ew. Did you get it?
Kate: I’m just checking for other ones before I get it
It’s still on the wall.
Jaime: what if you came back and I was stuck wrapped up in a spider web?
Kate: I’d just sleep in the other room.
5 Aug
This photo requires context
When we moved in, we discovered a sun-bleached pair of boxers on the roof. How they got there – we don’t know. But – they have remained – sunrise to sunset – rain and shine and some potential hail – for going on eight weeks.
In addition, during our second week in town and after 4 full days of rain, we discovered our gutters were clogged. We requested that be addressed – but it was not.
Segue to last night
Jaime and I were walking up to the house when we heard an odd creaking sound. Looking up, we discovered that a branch from the giant tree out front was digging into the roof. This made us frown.
We entered the house and carried on with our responsibilities – feeding the pets, doing the laundry and hanging a curtain rod in the guest bedroom so we could stop accidentally flashing the neighbors every single day. Once that was complete, I can’t remember how, but we decided that we would cut that branch digging into the roof. Well – not we – Jaime – I’m too clumsy and would surely fall into the shrubs below.
“I’m not letting you go out there without a rope tied around your waist.”
“We can use the extension cord”
“Ok.”
Jaime went downstairs to get her clippers and I prepared the bright orange, three-pronged, belay.
Jaime returned and I fastened the belay around her waist and around myself. If she was going down – I was going with her.
I gave her sufficient lead and out she went.
“Don’t dilly-dally”
She got down on her knees, leaned over and began to cut the branches
“Not too close”
She cut more branches. Then moved to the gutter
“Oh don’t clean the gutter. You should have gloves on.”
She cleaned the gutters – tossing the needles and dirt onto the sidewalk below. “We’ll need to sweep” she said, assuring the neighbors who were most likely witnessing the nonsense.
“You’re too close to the edge”
She continued
“Be careful. That’s enough”
She did the lobster walk backwards and hoisted herself to her feet. She smiled at me.
“Okay come in”
She eyed the boxers. “I should pick those up.” She picks them up with the very edge nail of her pointer and thumb.
“Hand them to me – I’ll throw them out.”
She moves to the edge
“Hand them to me. Oh – be careful. No – don’t throw them off the roof.”
She throws them off the roof – attempting to get them into the basket for Yard Waste. “Ugh! Just missed it. We’ll have to sweep.”
4 Aug
Malm Mirror Nightstand Storage Thingy
In short, Kate needed a nightstand, and I needed a project.
WHAT I NEEDED:
10 Ikea Malm black-brown mirrors, straight joiners, L brackets, tiny screws, two hinges
WHAT I DID WITH IT:
I had a bunch of old Malm mirrors lying around and figured it was time to do something with them (read: I’m sick of making Swiss cheese out of the walls trying to line them all up grid-style; and I needed another nightstand, and I didn’t want to buy wood). So, for a first go at building anything from scratch and without plans, I set out to use what I had on hand (minus the 4 trips to the hardware store for screws, joiners, etc.)
First, I sorted my mirrors to use the nicest ones towards the top, and the scratched one on the bottom. I used the straight joiners to attach two mirrors vertically. This I did four times (two joiners for each mirror). This created four tall rectangular boards. Then, I attached a mirror to the bottom, centered so it would be inset, using the L brackets. After that, I used the hinges to attach the top mirror to create an top-opening lid. I thought it would be nice to have a bit of storage for an extra blanket, etc. I bailed on adding a knob/handle since the lid sticks over enough to open easily. I’m considering adding some sort of embellishment… any ideas? I’ve considered adding feet. Open to ideas.
Anyway, voila. Nightstand!
3 Aug
What the animals are saying
I enter through the front door and am nearly barreled down by Samson and Kojak
“Mom! I am so glad you are home. I was having the best dream about…”
“Mommy! Mom is great! Mom is great great great great! Can I have a treat?”
“Oooh can I have a treat mom? One off a plate?”
I shepherd them to the back door and shoo them to the back grass to pee.
Moments later, they return – completely forgetting our former greeting.
“Mommy! Mom is great! Mom is great great great great! Aren’t I cute?”
“Mom! Let’s wrestle. You can’t come up the stairs. I’m gonna eat you. I’m eating you. Mom! mom! mom! Listen to my bark!”
“Mom can I have a treat?”
I open the door and shoo the dogs back into the house. They rush over and station themselves next to Jaime, who happens to be chopping broccoli.
I move to the upstairs where I secretly wish an alien would come and erase my memories of the day so that I can just relax.
No alien. Just Loopy – shedding all over stair number 8.
“Hello mother. Rub my fur.”
I rub his belly for 14 seconds
“Nice”
I move past him and he follows me up stairs 9 – 12.
“Now – I didn’t do much today. Just laid around. Thought about things. Oh and I watched that filth from next door. He spent the whole afternoon on the roof across the way cooking himself in the sun. Even left some droppings up there bound to roll into the gutter and create just a mess.”
I move past him to change into something that fails to confine my exhausted body.
“Oh mother? Mother I’m hungry. I’m fatally starving. I can hardly get on.”
I pivot on my heels, go back down the stairs, move into the kitchen, yank open the fridge, grab his food, pivot again, yank open the drawer and grab a spoon.
The dogs take notice.
“Ooh is that for us? Is that for us us us us? Aren’t I cute?”
“It’s not for us, is it mom? It’s for him. You like him better than us.”
Loopy circles me. Purrs. “She does.”
I put the food in front of Loopy and he waves a tail of “Thanks.”
I move back upstairs, change into sweats, sit in my chair and stare at the dried uneven strokes on the wall.
“Hey Katie? Dinner.”
I have 56 seconds before she realizes I can hear her and calls again.
1 Aug
Finding that sense of peace
When you’re a kid – you throw a temper tantrum and someone tosses you in time out.
When you’re an adult – you have to learn to throw yourself in time out. Or you could act like a piss pot – but then you won’t have any friends
I spent a lot of time acting like a piss pot the past couple weeks. With all the life changes, I kind of forgot the sound of my own voice. Work picked up and so did my pace and soon enough I was burnt out and unable to remember what peace felt like. I felt a feeling I hadn’t felt in a very long time – discontent.
I took everything apart and studied hard to find the culprit. Was it my job? Was it the chair in the front lawn? Was it PMS? Was it Portland? Was it Jaime? Was it the fact that the chairs we ordered 4 weeks ago still had not yet arrived? No. It was me. Buried under piles of to-do lists, excel sheets, projects, laundry, Facebook posts, financial projections and project aspirations was little old me – folded 4 times over, wrinkled, dusty and quite annoyed. I was tired, but I wouldn’t let myself rest. I wanted more R&R on the weekends, but I wouldn’t take it. I was exhausted from work, but I still kept working harder and longer hours. It was just dumb.
I realized I needed to give myself a time out. Here I was happily married living in a beautiful apartment in a beautiful space and I was so miserable I couldn’t stand to be around myself. So on Friday, I rebelled against myself and worked from home. I even took 40 min and sat in the sun. I told myself – I don’t want to ever say “if I had my life to live over, I’d have ‘this’ or ‘that.” The whole reason we moved to Portland was to enable ourselves to break free from control and learn to live again and here I was getting right back into my old bad patterns.
I told myself, if I felt exhausted – to go slower, if I felt overwhelmed – to delegate, if I felt tired – to take a nap, if i felt stressed – to be with mother nature and get some exercise. So far so good.
Tonight I got to run for a few miles in the park while Jaime walked the boys. When we got home, I cleaned up the lawn and watered the grass and now – now I’m sitting here in Jaime’s office watching the last glitter of daylight tiptoe down the leaves of the back tree and I honestly can’t remember all the things that frustrated me today. And I don’t care about them. I only care about how peaceful I feel right now.
28 Jul
A Rooster Crows in BrooklynPortland
Every day or two I hear a rooster crowing from one of my neighbors yards. It’s not like I live in the boonies or wear plaid (often), but this town/city blurs the line between the middle of nowhere and a bustling somewhere.
Maybe its a trend, or a sign of the times — getting back to a grow-your-on mentality — but its certainly not uncommon for people to own a few chickens for eggs, a goat or a swarm of bees. They don’t live on farms, but maybe you could call them urban farms or eccentric households or dedicated foodies.
Hearing a rooster crow, oddly, isn’t new to me (or us). Every morning in a very Brooklyn neighborhood, we’d walk to the morning train to hear the same sound. Sure I could chalk it up to a local crazy, but it was actually a rooster. A rooster crows in Brooklyn, if you would believe it.
There was a poultry shop/slaughterhouse right near our old place. Every morning, we’d walk past the delivery truck filled with flat yellow crates and angry chickens. I think Kojak got upset by the site during his walks. Or, it might’ve been the smell. You couldn’t miss that smell three blocks away. That and the stray feathers pasted on the sidewalk and floating heavy in the thick wind. You’d catch their eyes on the walk passed and you could tell they knew what was coming. It never bothered me much. I can see what I’ll be eating and not cringe, but be happy I know it’s fresh. Not everyone can look at their future food (ahem Daniele/Kate).
I always threatened to serve Kate one of those very fresh birds. Just to get a rise out of her. 🙂 I can’t imagine if it tasted better than what was probably in the freezer for a week, then defrosted for four days in my supermarket. Not to mention, with “2% water” somehow injected into the meat. So, I’m paying extra for a drink with my chicken dinner, I guess. I’d take the chicken eye contact pre-dinner over a mass produced, corn fed robot any day. Of course, in Brooklyn, I wouldn’t exactly consider them free range.
Still, it’s weird to hear a rooster crowing anywhere. Growing up near shopping malls, strip malls, department stores and a distant beach hardly hints at a future in farm noises. At best your neighbors dog wakes you up again. And again.
It’s a welcome change to pick my own lettuce for dinner and watch my cucumbers grow from little cornichon impersonators to grocery store-worthy produce. I can’t say how long we’ll be here, living with the neighbor’s rooster crow, my raised bed of green things or my home office view of it, but I’d take the sound of the living thing over that of its future you-know-what any day.
As for whatever comes next, I can only plan as far as dinner and I’m pretty sure I know what I’ll be making.
27 Jul
Dear Abandoned Chair – With Love, Abandoned Cushion
Dear Abandoned Chair,
We used to sit together all the time. We’d watch the cars go by or try and parallel park.
You were always the tall one. Me, I was walked all over, spilled on, sat on, treated like Foor. We had good times. Didn’t we? Remember that time we had five dogs and three outdoor cats? I still have the scars to prove it.
I don’t know why you thought a “FREE” sign wouldn’t make me seem cheap. Even after weeks of trying it your way, we still had trouble finding a new place to live after our sudden eviction. I remember you said this “camping out experience” would be fun. I mean we did have friends early on. Couch and Chaise… we had long nights of hanging out under the stars and that walnut tree. Even the kids from our old place would come out and chill. Like old times.
But then the rains came and “FREE” became “POSSIBLE INFESTATION” and “GREAT CREATIVE PROJECT” and later, “SERIOUSLY, TAKE THIS.” Sure, we laughed about it at first. Then, started bickering when the flies came around all the time.
Now, you’re gone. Left this morning without a word. Maybe you found a home or just got a ride somewhere else. I don’t know. But I can’t believe you left me here alone. I’ll never forget you.
With love,
Abandoned Cushion
P.S. So you don’t forget me…
20 Jul
There’s a Pig Fetus in Her Bedroom
I get my hair done in the “pink building.”
for your reference
My hair dresser, who is now in nursing school, is a bird lady. She tells me today about how the humming birds hang by her window and beg, the squirrels stand up and wave, her parrots shit on the carpet… you know, girl talk. She tells me she’s scored 100% on her finals, that she’s better at writing essays than math – but, of course, she’s acing algebra – and there’s a pig fetus in her bedroom.
A pig fetus. In her bedroom.
She says it like she’s reading me her grocery list: milk, eggs, Kashi cereal, quinoa, chickpeas, fetus, dried apricots… And I’m sitting at the other end of a pair of scissors, blind without my glasses and smiling because that’s what you do in these situations. I ask why she didn’t leave it in school.
“Because they only let us keep it in the fridge if it’s been opened.”
I’m thinking, “Open fetus container. Insert into fridge.”
“But it’s not like it smells or anything. It’s in a tub.” Then goes on to make hints that the other ladies in class are married, have dates and so on. She’s wondering, not saying, why not her.
Bird lady. Crap on rug. Fetus in bedroom.
In any case, she does a fabulous job on my hair. We’ll catch up on her in a few months.
Side note: We women get so attached to our stylists. Changing to someone new is like breaking up an ex without letting them know. It’s just wrong. And while sometimes this must be done, in this case it’s worth the do and the entertainment.
20 Jul
The Return to “Beervana”
We liked it so much we came back. For how long? The lease on our car says 2 years, so we’ll go by that.
A lot has happened since our two month stint. Married in Massachusetts while moving from Brooklyn to Portland. I guess you can say we like to keep things interesting.
Here’s to two more years of our “season of yes,” and, more than likely, a lifetime of the same.
5 Apr
Not My Kitchen Cooking: Steak and Snow Peas with Soy Lime Pan Sauce
The fact that I haven’t added anything new is mostly because I haven’t been cooking. I’m a little off my game when there are so many restaurants to try out.
Last night, however, was a prime example of making something out of nothing in terms of sauces. During Kate’s recent jaunt across the pond, she brought me back a few gifts: gummy things, stroopwaffles and 4 tiny jars of jam and honey. I already have the t-shirt. For this recipe, I used the honey. Also, I had sushi last week with my dear pal Kindo. I kept the soy sauce packets at her advice… which I also used here.
Ingredients:
1 soy sauce packet
1/2 mini jar of honey (probably 1-2 tsp)
4 cloves of garlic
1/2 lime, juiced
ginger powder (still using the same ration from an earlier recipe)
big fat top round London broil steak
snow peas (are in season at last!)
salt/pepper
Pierre Poivre pepper blend (from Lisa’s hamantashen)
Recipe:
Season the hell out of that steak with salt and Pierre McPepperton. Sear on both sides until it’s as bloody, or not so bloody as you like it. Meanwhile, saute snow peas with half of the garlic and season. While the steak is resting aside, make a quick pan sauce of the honey, lime juice, remaining garlic, soy sauce and ginger. Serve over steak. MMmmmmmm.
4 Apr
Sit Up Straight Epiphone
AHA! Pam, the yogi slash real estate agent (which I also discovered during my latest kidney slapping class) reveals… anasana means “posture.”
Ok, so it’s a little anti-climactic. But you can imagine the smirk I had to hide when I was balancing on one foot and she divulged. It’s the little things, I tell you.
1 Apr
Would You Like To Come For Supper?
Yesterday was the second time a colleague of mine invited Jaime and I over to their home for dinner. We haven’t obliged just yet as things are quite busy, but we intend to. There is something about being invited into someone’s home. It’s their safe place – their routine – and they want you to be a part of it. It’s pretty awesome.
We’re very accustomed to meeting new people out at a restaurant or bar, so this will be entirely new. And I just don’t know what to expect.
Is it weird that I imagine a woman of the 50s with a red-checkered apron working in a yellow kitchen? Have I just watched too much TV? It’s also a bit unnerving – like, what if we just don’t jive – or what if they’re really weird – or what if the food is inedible. I suppose I should look at it as a win-win – provided we survive – we would a) walk away with new friends or b) walk away with a killer story.
29 Mar
Rooster Hair and Worry Wrinkles
When I woke this morning, I had the most incredible rooster hair. It actually looked really cool. I may just leave it like that.
No.
Rooster hair tells me that I was tossing and turning – evenly – on both sides. And I was – until I woke in a fit of anxiety. My term on this rodeo has been a wild one – awesome and strange. And its coming to an end is causing all sorts of stress for me. I need to decide my next move and I need to that it’s healthy for both me and my family.
My biggest fear is drowning. I tend to think I can handle something for just a little too long – and when I realize I can’t any longer – I can only hope there’s someone there to help me. So right now, I’m trying to find that balance between wanting to do kick ass work and drowning in it. I’m on thin ice.
It’s kind of wild to be sitting here at such a crossroad. I have always been so impulsive – but now, I’m really stuck. I don’t like it. I just don’t know what to do.
My Grandfather was really my idol (I wish he were here right now to steer me right)… his greatest wisdom to me came when I was screaming through puberty and asked how he got along with Grandma so many years. He said, “You have to have your own life and a life together.” That phrase has echoed through me for close to 20 years now and has helped me to find my balance.
In my mind there is a wooden teeter totter. On one side are my Interests (work, adventures, etc.) and the other are my Loves (family, social responsibility, etc.). Sometimes – when things get rocky – I accidentally let Interests slide over to Loves just to keep things from going completely out of whack. But that’s not fairly balanced – and those Interests (especially work) can erode Loves quicker than Sweet Tarts to tooth enamel.
I was inspired to conclude this with some metaphor where I compare myself to a certain shape. As I was browsing through the definitions in Wikipedia, I discovered this Philosophical argument, “In Plato’s Meno, Socrates questions Meno as to the most accurate definition of a figure/shape. By showing the possibility of there being more than one definition, Socrates shows that a definition cannot wholly and accurately describe something and that there is no one absolute definition for anything including shape.”
I like this.
I need to determine the type of environment that suits best my balanced ratio of Interests and Loves. Once I do that, it is mine to create. I am the one who controls my wooden teeter totter of balance. I always forget that part.
—
In other news, we watched “Wanted: Adventure Woman” on Fox Sports last night. With my dental guard in, I do an exceptional impersonation of Carmen. Ask me about it sometime.
23 Mar
Spice Girl
How this could happen, I just don’t know. With all of the excitement about my kick ass care package, I missed one of the all time most important kick ass presents. I saw what I assumed to be a roll of fancy cookies – given the mass of gummy bears and sweets, my mind could go nowhere else – and set them aside for a moment of weakness. I figured I’d open them when I could commit to eating all of them, or at least after Kate came back to help.
Well, how could I have not known? How did I not see the signs?! What was not in fact a roll of fancy cookies, was instead a collection of the fanciest, most delicious spice blends a girl without her kitchen could ask for!
Lisa and her dear, sweet hamantashen Lior sent a trio of his La Boîte à Epice spices:
Bombay: A blend of turmeric, clove and fenugreek for my stews, fish or really anything.
Pierre Poivre: A seven pepper blend that has “steak” written all over it.
Cataluna: A mix of pimenton and smoked cinnamon that I’m probably most excited about. I might wear it to work.
Anyway, I’m super excited about this little dose of happy. A girl without her spices is a sad thing. Thanks friends.
P.S. Can you see how excited Kojak is about this too?
20 Mar
Purim Hamantashen and Bingo
Purim showed up in my inbox this year. I was reminded via FW that the holiday was upon us. Now, Purim isn’t Shabbat… it’s not Hanukkah nor Rosh Hashannah. It doesn’t get the attention of its holiday all-star brethren. It’s like being a middle child. Once in a while, someone throws you a bone. As if the creation of Purim’s signature cookie, the hamantashen, was creating by its PR department. “Here, we’ll make you a cookie and people will love you.” Whatever the reason, this year it got my attention.
Kate was off running the world in London, so I invited one of my most fantastic characters for a little visit. Evan came in from Seattle for the day and when I told him it was Purim, he was all over it. When I said “Let’s make hamantashen” he was already picking out filling flavors. After a day of wandering the city, shoe shopping, eating bento boxes and such we made our list of Purim to-dos based on said FW email.
1) we must give charity to two people
2) we must bring food to someone
3) we must make hamantashen (ok that wasn’t a must for the holiday, but a definite for us)
So, we put two dollars each in our pockets – the first two people to ask us for money would get it. Charity. We would make hamantashen. Hamantashen. And we would eat them. Food brought to each other. Check.
Thanks to Whole Food’s bulk aisle, I didn’t have to fully break my Not My Kitchen Cooking rule on flour and such. For fillings, our search for Nutella ended with a dark chocolate almond spread. Holy hamantashen, Batman! And apricot jam, my old school all time fav. We planned to spend our evening making the cookies, but quickly found out the dough needed to rest for 2 hours! So, how can we waste time… oh, there’s free drag bingo tonight. Obviously we’ll just go there while the dough rises. Obviously. After an interesting night of losing at bingo, we returned to finish our cookies and eat as many as humanly possible. So good. Mom would be proud.
Purim success. Yes, most definitely we did Esther proud.
In closing, the fact that WordPress keeps giving me spell check warnings on my holidays is insulting. It’s been thousands of years, people. Get with the program.
19 Mar
Cheese, Kimchi and Duck Sloppy Joe’s at the Portland Farmers Market
That headline says a lot about my Saturday alone at the farmers market. Kate left that day for her London-athon, so rather than sulk and eat my feelings, I marketed and ate cheese.
Ever since the notion of coming to Portland came about (which was, frankly, moments before we actually did) I couldn’t wait to get my hands, feet, belly into one of Portland’s famed farmers markets. It’s by far one of my favorite activities. This one was at the college campus and it was huuuugeee. They had bands playing – more specifically, a man playing the blues (I have a video. It’s too big to add… Kate? Help?).
They had dozens of vendors selling anything from homemade goat cheeses, apple ciders (soft and hard), every kind of local fruit or veggie, very expensive eggs ($7 a dozen!), freshly butchered heritage breeds, assortments of pastries and wines and a few handfuls of food trucks serving up the gamut of items.
I did what anyone would do, or at least what my mother would certainly do, which is sample my way around and around. I tried every cheese, sipped wines, sampled kimchi and jams. And then when I decided it was time to eat, I discovered a magical wonder. A food truck with an unassuming chalkboard sign and a camping grill selling DUCK SLOPPY JOES. Holy crap, what a good idea. I immediately ordered one and thanked them for being geniuses. For 7 bucks, I feasted on this delicacy matched with some sort of greens…maybe mustard… and on top of two slices of buttery corn bread. Thank you very much.
Feasting as I listened to live blues and the sounds of happy kids playing in the grass, I felt fat and happy. Then, I bought a bottle of cider and a jar of freshly made salsa, and spent the rest of the day with the boys recovering from the cheese. Not a bad day by my lonesome. Of course, it would’ve been infinitely better with my Kate.
18 Mar
Jane Finch
Kate: I’m gonna tell everyone I’m Jane Finch.
Jaime: What?
Kate: I’m gonna tell everyone I’m Jane Finch and wear track suits.
Jaime: Um, you mean Jane Lynch?
Kate: What? Oh, yea.
Jaime: Please don’t tell anyone you’re Jane Finch.
Kate: Who’s Jane Finch?
18 Mar
An Irish Annex
Last night we decided to go out for St. Patti’s. I’m tired as hell as we both had to get up early, but we had to see what was what. We had to.
We ventured to Jakes – the one with the big crab on top as they have had banners advertising their St Patti’s day extravaganza since we got here. Or maybe they never take them down. Anyhow, we arrived to see about 6 white tents wiggling a “NOW that’s a party 2011” dance mix. The cover was $10 and it was cash only. I mean – who listens to Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” on St. Patti’s. NO. That is a FAIL. You are SUPPOSED to pretend to be of Irish descent. You are SUPPOSED to sing Irish songs, dance Irish jigs and in attempts to sound Irish – talk like a pirate.
There were 5 of us and not one was in the mood, so we ventured to McMenamins’ Annex.
You walk into this place and it’s like 60 sq ft. You pass a narrow bar with an eerily grinning bartender, venture down 11 wooden steps and you’re in this little pub area with handmade tables (3′ deep) and music posters all over the walls. I personally was most happy with the table – it was the perfect depth and beautifully crafted. My IPA was delicious as well
We had a couple of drinks and many laughs – then our exhaustion kicked in and like a bunch of old farts, we joined a chorus of yawns and left.
It was a happy St. Patti’s though. I had fun.
Hey, have you seen this. Hi-larious
17 Mar
Not My Kitchen Cooking: A Pork Chop and then a Salmon
While I don’t intend to publish everything I cook – that would make this a daily newsletter – I will put up the things I thought answered to this challenge:
- Is it healthy?
- Is it flavorful but not because I buckled and bought sauce or extra seasonings or vinegars or anything?
- Would I make it again (read: would Kate eat it again)?
A Two-Dinner-in-One Post:
–RECIPE #1– Pork Chops with Orange Marmalade and Roasted Broccoli
In my delightful care package this week, I received a lone packet of Smucker’s orange marmalade (no doubt from the kitchen drawer at work). It’s the kind of thing you toss into the pantry and forget until you move and then have to toss it out because you have no idea how long it’s been there. But, since I don’t really have a pantry (aside from the mass of gummy bears and chocolate bars from Seattle) I wanted to use it for something… other than toast.
Broccoli
Well, I mean, I roasted it. Ask me if you want the details.
Chops
Seasoned, cooked in a pan until just cooked through. Takes about 6-8 minutes depending on the thickness of the cut – mine were an inch.
Orange Sauce
Reduced just under a half cup of orange juice with the marmalade until it was thicker and more syrupy – scrapping up all those yummy bits from the pan. Added chops back in to turn a few times. And voila! Delicioso. Clever-o. Not jello.
–RECIPE #2– Salmon with Cilantro, Garlic and Lemon with Sautéed Kale
2 salmon fillets
3-4 cloves of garlic, minced
1 bunch kale, torn off the bitter stem
cilantro paste – I usually use fresh, but it’s one of the few things I got for the long haul
Salt & pepper – the only other things I got for the long haul
3-4 slices of lemon
oil & balsamic vinegar
Season the fish and put in a glass oven-safe baking dish with a little olive oil. Rub cilantro and garlic over top. Then, top with lemon slices. Into the oven at about 350 for 20-25 minutes, until fork flakes. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, saute kale with remaining garlic, olive oil and a splash of balsamic vinegar. Cover and let cook until wilted. About 10-15 minutes. Boom.
What I love about making greens like this is it requires almost no attention. Just cover and let ‘er go (thanks Kindi for the tip). And the salmon takes care of itself. Easy peasy and delicious.
Sorry, no photo of the chops. Just imagine it. Good? Yum.
16 Mar
Not My Kitchen Cooking: Shrimp & Avocado Salad w/Grapefruit Vinaigrette
I love to cook. For some, it causes anxiety. For me, it is both a creative outlet and somewhat relaxing. It’s also a way to show my love. They say (or should say) the way to a woman’s heart…
I actually enjoy putting thought into the menu for the week and finding creative ways to use the fewest amount of ingredients possible while still making something healthy and delicious. I like going to the store and looking at all the produce, finding the perfect whatever. I like changing my recipe to accommodate something that just looks amazing and I must buy it.
Being this far away from home, more specifically my kitchen, I’m forced to be even more creative. I don’t have my gadgets, my good knives (these are like trying to use a piece of paper to cut anything), my sauces, spices, collections of oils and vinegars, even my larger cutting boards and decent pots and pans. I mean, they didn’t leave us with nothing, it’s just the way anyone feels about not having their stuff. At home I know how long it takes to heat my oven, what temperature it actually is, and I like my gas range over this electric thing. Takes FOREVER to heat up.
But, I’m getting used to it. And I don’t want our dinners to suffer because of my less-than-optimal kitchen situation. So, I’ve decided to take on this challenge. I’m going to find ways to make healthy, money-conscience, balanced meals without my stuff and without buying any sauces – we can’t stock up in a temporary situation. I’m going to try to post some of my better successes (per Erin and Kate’s requests). Of course, I’ve already missed a few things. But I’ll recap at some point.
Last night’s success:
Shrimp and Avocado Salad with Grapefruit Vinaigrette – Under $10
Ingredients:
1 grapefruit
1/2 lime (leftover from another meal)
1/2 lb. shrimp (it was cheaper to buy them steamed)
2 avocados
2-3 cups fresh baby spinach
handful crushed almonds (sent as part of my care package yesterday)
olive oil, salt, pepper
ginger powder (Kate discovered that our grocery lets you measure out and buy as much seasonings as you want – I spent only a few cents and got more than enough for a few meals)
Vinaigrette:
I segmented the grapefruit over a bowl and squeezed the piths and whatever fruit clung to them into the bowl. Added maybe half as much in oil. Seasoned with salt, pepper, and ginger to taste. Done.
Salad:
Cut up avocados into slices, added to bowl with grapefruit segments, spinach and shrimp. Topped with almonds and lime juice.
Voila! Delicious, nutritious, ambitious?, few dishes? knishes.
p.s. I resent that “knishes” comes up in spell check.
15 Mar
a Gas
*huff puff
*giggle
*huff “Don’t laugh” *puff “don’t laugh at my pain.”
*giggle *cough “I’m not laughing at your pain”
*huff puff
“I’m laughing because you’re doing Lamaze at your desk!”
14 Mar
Hanukkah Harry Comes Early to Portland
Somehow, and for reasons far beyond me (unless it was the doughnuts), I received the most incredible package in the mail today. By the looks of it, my first thought was Mom sent me a care package of cooking gadgets, spices from Marshall’s Home Goods, Sunday comics and grocery coupons. Wrong was I.
Some of my dear friends (along with a few shady people, no doubt) sent me love and other things all the way across the middle states, of which half I can name. What an unbelievable surprise to open a mystery box full of goodies.
The Contents:
- Gummy Bears – Aliya? Everyone?
- Gorgeous Brooklyn mugs from Fishs Eddy, my favorite place ever – Juls, I know this was you
- A Judith peep – no idea who that’s from… it’s AWESOME. How long can I keep it before it lays an egg?
- More peeps…mmmm peeeppppssss.
- Gummy Bears
- Gabe in a cheetah dress…. again
- Totally tubular sweets. Yes, I said tubular.
- White Plains train schedule – I love this, but heaven help me if I need it again. ::shudder::
- Clippers. ahem.
- Smucker’s orange marmalade. I’m gonna say it. It’s the jam.
- Cascade dishwasher detergent – someone has been reading this blog. we thank you.
- Peacock toothpick thing from my desk, formerly the property of Kenneth, obviously
- Gummy Bears.
- Audra’s note on the back of the envelope.
Now, I don’t know how to begin sending love and thanks back, but I must say I would’ve expected it in a Gilt box for sure. I suppose Crate & Barrel will do.
I organized a photoshoot of this momentous occasion with almost zero budget and two furry, not helpful assistants. Enjoy:
Love you guys!!
14 Mar
So You Had A Bad Day
I woke up this morning in a fit of anxiety
A FIT!
I was sweating with stress about the wedding – all the things that could go wrong – all the drama that could ensue. And then next steps – where will I work, what will I do? And then the event in London – never been there – have no sense of direction – have to stay up for 24 hours straight – what if I get lost… what if I oversleep and miss my flight… And then Jaime – her plants are dying back home. She loves those plants. Is she unhappy…
So I went running – ran a couple of miles at a good pace. Felt better – but still, not right.
I took the dogs out and Kojak would not poop. Naturally. But nothing like taking more control from someone who feels completely at loss for control. I wanted to wring his tiny furry neck – but he just looked at me and said “Mom – I just don’t have to poop right now.” Simple.
So I brought them back inside and threatened them that I got word of an accident, they were in big shit. Then I realized that I was 30 min late to work. So I stormed out – fighting back tears.
I know everything will be okay. I know I need to just sit back and take one moment at a time, but I would love SOMETHING to be consistent and stable.
And then I think about the people in Japan and those in the states with relatives in Japan. I can’t process.
I guess it is when we start doubting ourselves that the rug really gets pulled out. We are capable of surviving, of enduring so much more than we would ever think. Trick is to stop back-seat driving and enjoy the ride.
I still feel like I’m gonna cry, though.
10 Mar
There’s not enough CANDY in Portland
I am tired, okay?
When I am tired, I need sugar. Mike + Ikes, shock tarts, skittles, something.
We have a candy machine – but it’s near empty. Savages!
There is nothing – no bodega man with a plastic bin of stale Bazooka gum and gobstoppers. I need!
Where is it hiding? There must be a place! Where is it!?
Am I going to have to resort to doing an order off of Amazon Marketplace!?
I have a problem with this image. Everything is fine, except – well – Hi – who eats Halls as candy? Who? You? You have a PROBLEM. Seriously.
8 Mar
Finding the Next Gig
Monday will be 4 weeks. Can you believe it?! It’s amazing how fast a month goes when you’re loving every minute and how S-L-O-W a month goes when you’re miserable.
Anyhow, I need to get myself the next gig. And yes, I have decided I will contract for a while. It has taken me far too many years to accept that I do not like settling down with a company. I guess that stability and consistency makes me feel antsy – like I’m confined. I guess it’s also that I know once I am a mom, I cannot flutter around this way and that – so I want to get all of this opportunist behavior out of my system.
Finding a job is like dating. Most people memorize your interests and profile on LinkedIn and claim to be everything you’ve been looking for. A few handful are bitter and self-loathing and almost want you to help them find a new job. Filtering through that is ever so enjoyable.
The key is to flag buzz words “kick ass,” “process,” “traditional,” “growing so fast,” “working out the kinks – perhaps you can help”
They need to say things like “client loves us,” “proprietary,” “resource manager,” “quality of life,” “learning”
Hi – just like I wouldn’t date someone with loads of baggage, I won’t take a job and help you fix all your crap. You’re the boss. You’re the person with the bigger check. Tell me where my desk is, tell me of my assignment, tell me where I can find the bathroom, check on me from time to time and we’re good. Helping you work out your process or conditioning myself to work without one, no thanks.
If I go back in time and log all of the times I was happy, it would have been all of the times I was doing what I love to do – organizing chaos, brainstorming, creating, leading, actualizing, optimizing, learning – all that. The times I have been miserable have been when I could not or was not doing what I wanted to do – like swapping static graphics on a Facebook tab or coding a page myself due to lack of resources.
So this will be an interesting exercise.
What is this, by the way?
7 Mar
Catcalling Across Coasts
Catcalling in Brooklyn
(while lugging 3 bags of laundry on a Saturday)
“Hi baby – doing laundry? Want some help? I’ll fold your clothes. Have a good day, beautiful”
Catcalling in Portland
(during a morning run at 8:17 a.m.)
“Oooh baby – look at you! You’re looking good!” *softer “Be careful, okay?”
6 Mar
Adventures in SEATTLE!
I think my favorite part of being out here is the complete ease of taking a weekender. I described leaving New York as giving birth. I haven’t given birth, but I imagine that when I do one day that I will stop and say “This IS like driving out of New York.”
In Portland, Nancy tells us to drive about 10 blocks and make a couple slight turns and we’re off.
This past weekend was Seattle. We left around 9 a.m. and headed North into the happy puffy clouds and blue skies of Washington. Yes – it was a very nice day. It’s actually warming up, so we no longer have to dress like pillow people.
The drive to Seattle is quick – I mean, it’s the 5, so the view isn’t so hot, but it’s only the 5. I like trips like that because they give Jaime and I the chance to have some great conversations – conversations about life, about next steps, about things that stress/frustrate us, and the sudden absence of Ashley Judd’s career.
We got to our hotel with enough time to walk the dogs and explore before meeting my friend Molly and her partner, Genevieve for lunch at Steelhead Diner.
I had the sausage po’boy and Jaime had a salmon cake with lump crab meat and a bowl of roasted vegetable chili. Jaime’s choices were highly recommended – mine, well – it was a good dish, just wouldn’t order it again. We hung out with Molly and Genevieve for a good while, laughing – sharing stories – and then we hugged and ventured on our separate ways.
[enter Jaime]
Oh, the market. You know I love me some markets. There’s something about walking through the buzz of vendors selling their hand-made (or total touristy crap) wares that excites me. The calls of jewelry vendors talking about river Jasper, the offers of blueberry jams and vinegar tasting spoons, the quintessential throwing of the fish. Pikes Place Market was much larger than I expected, an endless covered path of anythings branching to lower, winding floors with vintages signs marketing a peep hole to view the “world’s largest shoe” or an endless coin collection or a random bronze sculpture of a squid hanging over a t-shirt shop. You could literally spend a day there, or at least spend most of it eating. Samples of dungenous crab meat with cocktail sauce in tiny cups (btw, an abomination to sauce such a delicacy), a piece of salmon jerky or sweet candied almonds and home-made doughnuts. Yes, please. And it was certainly a mad house of tourists filming flying fish (as did we), taking pictures of themselves in front of the postcard-perfect market sign (did that too) and trying on earrings and other things with freshwater pearls (check).
[enter Kate]
But you can only take it so long. The market was a little too crowded, so we swung by The Confectional. I got Jaime a chocolate mint cheesecake truffle and I had a qaudroople chocolate mini cheesecake. We ventured back up the 45 degree hill to the hotel. My friends, there is something hilarious (to me at least) about what I must have looked like – eating cheesecake and climbing such a steep incline.
The cheesecake was forgettable and made me feel guilty – Jaime loved her truffle, however. (note from Jaime: too rich, too good)
We dined with our friends Mykol and Evan at Seatown Seabar & Rotisserie. [enter Jaime again] Holy crap this place was good. Totally unassuming, totally empty, totally delicious. We ordered nearly everything, or so it felt that way: duck rillet with raisons, poached duck egg and caramelized onions on toast, bread with lardo (ew), soups, steamed salmon, porchetta roulette with rapini and polenta. Oh my. Sweet gluttony. Delicious everything. And with a view of the water from the tip of the, then, quieted market.
[enter Kate]
Then we ventured up to Capitol Hill to go exploring. Our first stop was Molly Moon’s handmade ice cream. Yes! It was delicious. Naturally I had chocolate. But it was SO rich – like chocolate melting in your mouth. [more from Jaime] They made their ice creams from scratch, pairing interesting and sometimes local combinations: balsamic strawberry, honey lavender, salt caramel… the line, not surprisingly, was out the door. And it was cheap!
We decided to round up the evening with one round at Elysian Brewing Co. I’m still surprised by the amount of brewpubs out here. Sampled the Mens Room Ale (irony) then off we went.
[enter Kate]
We turned in early so to have enough time to play in Pike’s place market before we had to leave. First we went to La Panier for some morning yummies. I had a raspberry croissant. It was heavinly! Like the perfect jelly doughnut made a baby with a buttery and perfect croissant. I could have had 9. I only had 1. Jaime had a crudités of peppered goat cheese, tomatoes and cucumbers. Mmmmm.
Next we stepped into a store which featured a nervous cashier and a TON of smoked fish and jerky. We got some salmon jerky and headed next door where I could stock up on uniquely flavored chocolate bars.
Finally we ventured back into the market with high hopes that it wouldn’t be so busy – and it wasn’t! There were amazing booths – really artistic stuff. We stopped by a jewelry booth and actually got my earrings and necklace for the wedding! The woman was so excited. She had been there for 30 years and made us promise to come visit the next time we were in town.
After that we came upon another booth where I found the perfect birthday gift for my little niece. Then we ventured out and made our way to the Nordstrom Rack. Have you been there? It’s my favorite.
The ride home was a breeze – we even got to sing along with Bohemian Rhapsody!
And then came dinner. See – we spent 16 hours staring at crab legs that were grossly priced by the pound, so Ms. Jaime decided she would get some when we got back to Portland. So – [enter Jaime – again with the food commentary] – I NEEDED to get some Alaskan king crab legs. These wickedly priced delights are worth every penny. I also got some cocktail shrimp and sauteed some kale, and we ate right off the butcher paper. A perfect ending to a weekend of (clearly) eating our way through Seattle.
[enter Kate]
Overall, Seattle was a lot of fun. Would love to go there during the summer – apparently the sun goes up at 5 and doesn’t set till around 10. We also have some lovely friends there. BUT – we prefer Portland, just feels a little cozier.
4 Mar
Beer Logging: Alaska Amber, Alt Style
Had this little ditty at Scandal, a very friendly guys bar in what apparently was or is known as the “Pink Triangle.” Take a guess why. We went there to watch RuPaul’s Drag Race (best show ever). When we get there, people are singing fairly awful karaoke, and we were two of the four women in the whole place.
I ask the bartender, “what time does Drag Race come on?” He says, “Oh, well Glee wasn’t on tonight so we moved Drag Race up. Now, we’re having Drag-eoke. What can I get ya?” “Um…well.. I’ll have that Alaska Amber.” Awesome.
Flavor Flav
Drinkability: Yes, it has some of that. I could have two. Not three.
Hoppy: Not so much.
Tastiness: A little thicker than a typical amber ale. A bit nutty too. Pretty rich, but not chocolate ice cream. A bit malty.
Color: Dark Caramel, I think. The bottle is brown. I mean, how am I supposed to know.
Where From: Juneau, Alaska. Across the street from Russia.
Drink Again: Yes, but not after I try everything else.
PS. Sorry about the lousy image quality. It was the best I could do under the circumstances. Not to mention how awkward it was when the flash went off.
3 Mar
Poop Damn You. I said POOP!
I am supposed to be working, but I am too angry. My shoulders are wet, my hair looks like a toupee that came out of a street drain and my favorite shoes are damp and may never look as sexy again. Why? Oh because of Kojak. See Kojak doesn’t like to poop in the rain.
It took 4 years of begging and mild tourettes fits in Brooklyn just to get him to pee in the rain, but the pooping – well – he will ONLY go if he has some nice grass. And it has to be nice grass – like a lawn – not a patch around a post.
I walked him all around Portland this morning – walked 25 minutes in horrible rain until I finally conceded and took him to the park.
There is NOTHING more demoralizing than standing in the pouring rain and begging your 9lb dog to poop. Begging! Passers by think it’s so cute. I almost gave my dog the finger. The finger! Can you imagine if someone had witnessed that?
Anyhow – now the sun is out and the sky is blue. Mother nature just thinks she’s so funny.
This guy has created a video on teaching your dog to go on command. I watched about :24 of it and kind of wanted to punch him. I bet he doesn’t even have a dog. Kojak doesn’t “spin” in the rain. He cowers and stares at me with disdain.
1 Mar
Tomato TomAHto Obstetrician
Jaime: … it’s just, he has a mushy body.
Kate: Oh, ew.
Jaime: … and his knees are too close together…
Kate: Well, remember our obstetrician?
Jaime: Our what?
Kate: Obstetrician.
Jaime: Ostrich? …Onomatopoeia? …Oakland A’s? …Otorhinolaryngologist?
Kate: OBSTETRICIAN!
Jaime: Kate, we don’t have kids.
28 Feb
Portland Happy Hours: Reason 5,642
So, late yesterday we decide to hit it up. We had intended our Sunday to be lazy followed by a food cart exploration (a must in PDX). Of course the carts are closed by Sunday afternoon (or they never open on Sunday’s, we just don’t know). Backup plan: Jake’s.
We go in an it looks a bit like McSorely’s Ale House but classed up with white waiter coats, original antique finishes (it is apparently the second oldest bar in the city), and smooth elevator jazz. All of that topped off with St. Pat’s banners and a formal wooden countdown to the main event. A pub/seafood restaurant with an identity complex, indeed.
They carried only local beers (there are no bad ones. this is a major plus). I get a Rogue Dead Guy, an old standard of mine, and then we peer at the Happy Hour menu. No drinks, just food. Apparently, most, if not all bars have really good happy hour food menus. Apparently an old law wouldn’t allow bars to promote cheap booze, so bars would lure people in with at-cost food. And they still do. Not just crappy stuff either, I tell ya. I ordered the fish tacos (excellent) for 4 bucks; Kate’s gets a chicken quesadilla for 2 bucks. Never in Manhattan. My yenta side perks up at this fact. So, for under $20 bucks (literally under 20, no sales tax here – reason 2), we eat dinner topped off with some killer local brews. Never thought I could save money by dining out. Hooray.
What have we learned today:
1) Happy hours ARE a good idea (I mean, I didn’t just learn this… but I agree with that statement more now)
2) I am still right about Rogue Dead Guy (can’t believe their brewpub is in walking distance from our place)
3) I know what I’m doing for St. Pat’s
27 Feb
Poncho Sanchez and 80’s Night
The week was Portland’s annual Jazz Fest. Of course we needed to find our way to at least one show. On Friday night we decided to go see Poncho Sanchez, a Grammy-acclaimed musician (so he tells us several times). It was at the Crystal Ballroom on minutes from our place, fortunately enough. It was freezing and windy outside. No one told us we were actually headed for winter here. The ballroom had its original feel, from whenever it was built. It’s a McMenamin’s spot, one of their many in this city. It had a circus like feel to it… kitschy, colorful chandeliers, murals of trippy scenes, gargoyle faces in the old columns… a strange place, but a fun one.
Kate invited along a work buddy and we all watched as odd couples did even odder dances. This place, this city, is made for people watching. The floors were so old or thin that each step made for a springboard, bouncing us around like the high-tables here and there. You can’t leave a drink on one of those in a place like this. Everyone seemed to be on the same page about that.
The show was great, but we kept hearing this weird competing music coming from somewhere. You don’t expect a thumping club sound at a jazz show. What was it? It was 80’s night downstairs at the other bar. Oh yes, we were so in.
So, after our sophisticated evening of high-brow jazz and bongo beats, we danced our asses off to Michael Jackson (80’s night/bar mitzvah/everything staple), Brass Monkey, and even the wrong decade Ice Ice Baby… no one was surprised by that pick. We had a blast. What a random, unexpected night. Of course, I’d do it again… I’d probably dress a bit differently though. You don’t where “a nice sweater” to 80’s night. Let that be a lesson.
Friday night success.
Check!
26 Feb
Turky Jerky, Pillow People and Sturgeons
I picked up the car at Avis just a few minutes after 9:30. The desk clerk in training was buying time to fix her mistakes by making small talk. I didn’t mind. I don’t ever feel in a rush out here. We talked about the weather mostly; shared a laugh about how excited people got about the quick burst of snow. It was then that I brought up how I was from New York and how this weather was a peace of cake. Suddenly her trainer bounds out from the back office, eyes flickering like she had just seen a unicorn.
“Have you been to the gorge?”
“Is that Multnomah falls?”‘
“Yes yes!”
“Yes, that’s where I’m headed.” *Smile
“Oh here, take this map.” She takes a pencil and feverishly marks away, “You have to go to here and here and oh – start here.”
They followed me out of the office waving and full of elation. It was like a car commercial where the mom’s waving her kid off to school for the first time.
I headed up to the 10th floor of the garage and hopped into the gray Mitsubishi Galant. I started her up, gripped the icy wheel and flipped the heat on high. After floor 6, the air coming out of the vents was still cold and I was convinced I was going to barf if I went into one more loop of the parking garage. At floor 2 I was ready to black out. At the exit, however my color and smile came back and I headed NE back to the house where Jaime and I layered up in as much as possible – looked like pillow people dressed in leather coats. We put the boys in their sweaters and headed out.
The ride to the falls was a mere 36 miles on the 84 east bound, but damn was it pretty. Our interactions reminded me of my parents during road trips as a kid:
“Look at those mountains. Ugh – the sky is the perfect color – looks like a picture book” *Slight Swerve.
“Watch the road!”
At about mile 28, I noticed snow, furrowed my brow and engaged in a very brief nonverbal exchange with Jaime and the dogs:
Me: Shit
Jaime: I told you we shouldn’t have brought the dogs
Dogs: Oh no f-ing way
We stopped off at Wahkeena Falls for some photo ops. I also was curious as to how cold it was. We had intended to hike with the boys and stop at each waterfall on the way. My people – the water was frozen.
We got back into the car, munched on some turkey jerky and drove about 6/7 more miles to Multnomah Falls. The falls stood a blustery mix of ice and rushing water at 611′. It was a tremendous sight.
The dogs lasted about 8 minutes before they started shivering and putting on their “pity-me” faces. I even got scolded by a woman from the Netherlands. “Oh, they have sweaters on! Oh dear, oh they’re cold!”
We dropped the boys back off at the car, supplied them with some treats for distraction and headed back to the falls. We took some great shots, then got decided that despite the fact that the trail was covered in ice, we should head up to the bridge for some better photos.
You may have noticed the very bizarre looking fish. Yes. Okay so, when we were on the bridge, Jaime happened to engage in a quick chat with a fisherman, let’s call him Doug, and his presumed wife, nameless. Doug took our photo (but I don’t think he did, cause I can’t find it) and recommended we check out Bonneville Dam and the fish hatchery. So we did. Why the hell not, right?
Parking the car
Kate “So what’s a hatchery?”
Jaime “It’s where fish hatch.”
Kate “No! Fish don’t hatch”
Jaime “Yes they do”
Kate “Do they?”
Jaime “I’m just giving answers”
In front of the hatchery – shivering and staring at tiny fish
Kate “This isn’t of interest to me”
Jaime “Yeah, let’s get out of here”
Doug and nameless presumed wife appear again.
“You got to check out the sturgeon over there.” Points behind him
“Yeah?!”
“Yeah – go in that room and you’ll see a 10′ fish.”
So we did and that was where we met Herman.
The sturgeon species has been around for 200 million years!
We took some pictures and then headed to the dam visitor center. It was there that I found a brochure for WAAAM (Western
Antique Aeroplane and Automobile Museum). I declared with much enthusiasm that it was to be our next stop.
We headed downstairs to check out the fish ladders. And there was Doug and nameless presumed wife again. No kidding. (I felt like it was “Truman Show” – except “Gottleolieb show”)
“Did you see the fish?”
“Huge!”
“I caught one once”
“Yeah?”
“Had to throw it back. If they’re over 6′ you have to throw them back.”
Hi – so I have a question – how do you “throw back” a 6′ fish?
This guy could:
We headed back to the car and drove another 20-30 miles to WAAAM.
The place was incredible, 100 years of cars, motorcycles, fire trucks, airplanes, everything. We took some photos, but this video tells it better:
After about 90 minutes of cooing at everything and wishing I had it in replica size, we headed down the road and to the rightto Cathedral Ridge Winery. We got a bottle of the Rusty Red, because it was just fantastic. The 2007 Pinot Noir is excellent as well. Would go great with a nice steak.
Hey look, you can order online. Hey look, no sales tax! *wink *wink
We made friends with the girl doing the tasting. She was a foodie herself and even showed us a magazine article featuring a cheese recipe she intended to master. Speaking of recipes, hey look, they even offer recipes which match well with their wines (JAIME) *wink wink *wink
We headed home just as daylight was tucking under the covers of what could be snow or maybe rain clouds.
The entire trip cost us $35. No joke. Worth every penny.
24 Feb
The Volvo Sign Looks Fuzzy
It snowed last night. There is approximately 2″ on the ground and I am just dying to see if anyone comes to work. Snow here is like rain in LA. People just don’t know what to do. I find that cute.
Anyhow, my morning view is tucked under a fuzzy blanket of fog and mist – so sad – yet so mysterious.
This coffee is awful. We got it from whole foods and it’s like the free stuff you get from the airplane. The flavor disappears when it hits water. I am drinking brown water. I wonder if I add a few extra scoops if that will help things. I’ll experiment with that tomorrow.
In other news, since part of my team is in the UK and the client is on the East and my creative director has gone somewhere near the equator, I like to check my e-mail when I wake up. So. Turned on the Mac to see 28 unread messages. I felt anxiety. But I kid you not, every single one of them was a happy e-mail. Good news, positive conversation. It was remarkable. Has never happened to me before.
I have been working 12 hour days – so I am a bit tired. But I feel good. This week and next week are critical weeks. The following two weeks are more for the event producers to worry about – so I won’t be as taxed. This project is so cool – I’m a senior integrated producer on it, so I get to put my fingers in all the pies: creative, ux/ia, technology, development, strategy. And everyone I am working with is super on the ball – so I am learning every single day. Me like.
Did you know we have a nap room in the office? Isn’t that stupendous? I may have to visit it today. We’ve been getting 7/8 hours, but I think it’s my brain that needs a rest more than my body.
There’s something wrong with my 8 key. I have to hit it really hard 8 8 8 8. Yeah – see those spaces? Those are ghost 8s. Not good.
Well, I’m going to get caught up on my Facebook and e-mail Spam now.
23 Feb
An Italian Dinner and Some Real Bad Wine
I decided to make Jaime some nice italian pasta with spicy meat sauce for dinner. I asked her to pick up a bottle of Pinot Noir.
Guess what it tasted like.
Guess.
23 Feb
Getting Too Comfortable in Yoga Class
Went back for another yoga class with dear, sweet Pam yesterday. When she introduces herself to someone new in the class, who is inevitably sitting on the floor, she crouches down, knees bent to sit on her ankles. Then, she gets close. Very close. Puts her third eye somehow on both of yours within breathing distance of your face, outstretches her hand to yours, “Welcome. Hi, I’m Paaam. What’s your name? Any injuries? OK…” All the while, you’re feeling like this might be that date you really really really didn’t want to be on. But she’s not being icky, she’s just being a yogi… or something. She gets all close-talky like Kojak when you don’t give him enough attention.
The lady, Carole or Caroline or whatever, was just prior to class, having a very long (and very illegal – no phones or shoes allowed) conversation just outside the room with some masseuse (I presume).
“Do you bring your on table? How much? For what, 60 minutes?”
At that point the other two girls who were there early, ass cheeks in the air, were laughing together about how rude or how silly to talk about a rate so early in what was obviously the first conversation these people had.
My sentiment: “Yea, never on the first date.” Apparently some people here do get sarcasm.
Carole or whoever, with her green and purple flowered white tights and her stretchy black tank came in to sit next to me. Of course. I could see the white of her hair at the root. She was the older of the gals in this room. No gents that day. What she might have missed was a sports bra. I’m not judging. I’m just saying. Then, we stretched into some fine, uncomfortable poses. Arms out, twist here, “feel the air around your heart, yet let your shoulder soften,” Pam poetically instructed. We even slapped our kidneys again… gotta love that “jolt.”
Then, we all turn to the left. I’m looking at sweet Carole’s or whoever’s back. We bend to touch our toes.
And she farts. Loudly.
Why do these things happen to me? No one had better think it was me.
22 Feb
Beer Logging: Pelican Angler’s Amber Ale
While I’m here, I might as well try everything. And here, they have fantastic brews. Stay tuned for my entirely biased opinion.
PELICAN ANGLER’S AMBER ALE
Flavor Flav
Drinkability: Yes.
Hoppy: Slight hoppy aroma
Finish: Smooth with a crisp, slight floral bite at the end.
Color: Caramel
Where From: Oregon, of course.
Drink Again: Yes, but not after I try everything else. Story of my life.
PS. How quintessential is this shot? Whole Grain Dave’s bread, Whole Foods coffee (Pete’s and Stumptown were way overpriced, just so we’re clear), Yoga magazine in the background…
PPS. To clarify, this is not my first brew in the city. I’m only now getting around to logging.
Also tried: Full Sail’s Bump in the Night (a little too bitter for my taste), MacTarnahan’s Amber Ale (yum yum yum and local), Fat Tire (been there done that never get tired of it). Also, tried the Green Lakes Organic at the Deschutes brewpub. Good, nothing to write home about. They did give us a couple free pint glasses to take home. So there’s that.
21 Feb
It’s been one week since you….
Today marks the 6th day at my new gig and the 8th full day here in Portland, OR.
I do not regret my decision to leave my job, nor do I regret the decision to pick up and temporarily move all the way across the country. I do best in extreme chaos. When I feel stressed, I clean messes – helps me to focus and find the right path. I thank God that Jaime supported me. I am lucky that she believes in me as she does.
The gig is awesome. I am working with some really seasoned people from all over the states and Europe. Every day I am challenged to go out of my professional comfort zone. Every day I come away with new skills or honed existing skills.
I have a lot of stress though – being a contractor is stressful because your margin for error is a lot less as is your stability. When I was the director of production at a previous job, I had to let some really great people go (maybe the client didn’t like them, maybe the project was off schedule and we didn’t have enough funds). I try to ask a lot of question and research the e-mail threads and conversation history before I jump in too deep. I also go above and beyond to organize information and the workflow. I want them to know I am doing my homework and that I really care.
The major stressor is “what happens when the gig is done?” This isn’t just work – it’s my life.
I am not sure I want to go back to New York work environment. I’ve loved the energy so much, but it’s not where I do best. Now, I loved my first agency until they worked me to death (which later I learned I had let them do), but after that – just really hated it. Too much chaos, too much sexism. You spend all day doing something, you should love what you do and you should feel that you’re growing. More important, the ratio of what makes you angry to the ratio of what makes you happy should be much in favor of the happy. I was angry nearly every day in New York. Most of the time it was masked behind grinning sarcasm, but sometimes I would just be glaring mad. That’s not healthy. I couldn’t even make friends because all they or I could talk about was work.
Out here, it’s much more chill. There is still stress and bullshit, but there is a better quality of life. People go out and get a cup of coffee – clear their heads. There’s a community in the office – dog lovers, bikers, skiers, whiskey drinkers (yes). They’re just happy people who want to do good work. And that’s not just the production team, either. The account team is the same way. They like to know what’s going on, but if something goes awry, they’re not going to slap you with a splintered ruler – or cry. Hate it when they cry.
So now’s the time where I need to really think about what’s next. Which is insane, because my campaign completes in 5 weeks – so while it’s “go-time” I’m also planning my next move. I will have to work hard to find balance so that I don’t stop enjoying the moments here in Oregon. Life is about balance, faith, love and happiness. If you have those things, you can find your way through some pretty fucked up shit.
Okay, sun’s rising; time to get ready for the day
20 Feb
Papa Haydn – My Heaven
Jaime and I ventured to 23rd avenue to explore the shops and what not. We were in a home and garden shop and I asked the store owner if he could recommend a good place for lunch. This is what he said:
“Papa Haydn is the best in the area by far. It’s a little bit expensive, but very worth it. Oh and they have the most incredible desserts, so I would order something to share and then get your own dessert.”
The end.
19 Feb
Holy Mary, Mother of Goonies
Jaime and I woke up this morning like two kids on Christmas morning… or on the first day of Hanukkah. Today sweet Kindi and darling Chad picked us up for an adventure to Cannon Beach. Today was the first sunny day in about a week (though Friday had partial sun) and the temperature was a balmy 50 degrees so we were aching to get out into the wild. We geared up in our long underwear, winter gloves and fleece jackets and prepared ourselves for a heck of an adventure.
The west bound ride along the 26 was majestic with dancing clouds, lush grass (especially at the Intel Headquarters) and happy pines all over. As we got further along, we even encountered snow (which I thought looked too beautiful to be real).
After another 20 minutes or so, we merged onto my old friend, the 101, turned left at Ecola Park and found a spot on the welcoming streets of small town, Cannon Beach. After a quick tinkle break and a short trip to the candy store to refuel (cinnamon taffy, chocolate fudge and 2 pepsis) we took a side street, ventured down 16 steps and rushed onto the sands of the surreal coastline. Hurriedly snapping photos of every angle and every subject (I had two cameras) we hardly had enough oxygen to gasp as the 235′ handsome Haystack Rocks crept out of the heavenly sunlight.
[enter Jaime]
The beach was long enough to feel like you might get close to it. And as you walk closer to it from one end of the beach to the other, the sunlight makes it change. What was a backlit mass, turned into a sunlit living thing.
After endless photos, we walked back up through the neighborhoods with the most envious views and into the main town. Found ourself at Ecola Seafoods, a little cafe/fish shop. Bought ourselves some of the freshest seafood for lunch and packed up a variety for a fish fry later at home: steamers, cod, oysters, and dungeonous crab.
Back at Kindo and Chad’s, Kindi and I spent our time in the kitchen preparing our mad feast. Beer-battered oysters (gluten-free!), foil packet cod with lemon, tomatoes, zucchini and dill, steamers in a wine cream sauce, sautéed kale and chard, and fresh crab with butter sauce. YUM YUM YUM. It was a belly success, topped off with some delicious beers (of course) and Wii bowling. We’ll never forget it. Ever.
[enter Kate]
Oh yeah! I forgot about the Wii Bowling. I kick ASS at Wii bowling. If I played in real life like I do on the Wii, I’d be a star!
19 Feb
Sugar cubes in a salt shaker
Okay, so I am really excited about this – so please don’t roll your eyes.
We need sugar for our coffee, so that was at the top of our grocery list; (just below Coffee, Haribo gummies and Lactaid).We decided not to get a full box/bag of sugar because there was no way we could go through all of it before we left. We also decided against sugar packets because that’s bad for the environment. So we got the cubes. The cubes worked out pretty well for us until today – when I needed to make cinnamon sugar for some english muffins.
I had a shaker full of cinnamon, a box of sugar cubes and an empty salt shaker. This is what I did
I used a tablespoon to grind the cube down to crystal form. I mixed the cinnamon in (just a dash or two). I used the spoon to pour the mixture into the salt shaker and Voila! I had cinnamon sugar for today’s breakfast and perhaps tomorrow.
Pretty smart and resourceful, eh?
17 Feb
The Kidney Awakening and a Linda Blair Cat
Pam was working my anasana or whatever again today. I thought, how nice… get a hot chamomile tea, sit in the window on the first sunny day and read that book I’ve been trying to get through for months. How relaxing.
Class starts with pinching our nostrils, one at a time, and deciding which one does a better job. That, followed by a series of uncomfortable but helpful poses/stretches/improvisational dances and we’re on our way to calming, meditative state. Peace of mind.
“Ok, now stand with your feet apart, keep your hips forward and spin your arms back and forth. Let your hands smack your kidneys. That’ll really wake them up.” Of course it will, Pam.
I got brownie points today for standing the straightest of everyone. I know that because when we paired off into teams, someone held a rope to my hip. Where the belt fell is where my ankle should be. Good news. My ankle was right there. A+ for the day.
Then, feeling calm, kidneys kidney eye wide open (I do only have the one, after all), I took the long way home. Found a new cooking class, saw an incredible moon rising up through the colbalt sky… and then I got home.
Loopy went Linda Blair on me.
Not on the beeeeeddd…. ohhhh! not on the bed there too!! omg…on the floor? on the blanket! ugh.
Attempting to do some laundry now. Let’s hope I fare better than our earlier dish washer did.
I’m wearing a raincoat and a metal shield to bed.
17 Feb
Kate Puts Palmolive in the Dishwasher
You see where this is going. So did I.
Kate comes home for lunch every day since she works one block away. I consider this bonus time. We have lunch, we catch up, we b&c, we do easy choirs. Kate decides to run the dishwasher for the first time. How exciting for a couple of New Yorkers who are used to a foot-long counter top and a drying rack from the cheapy store. She proceeds to tell me this wacky story about how when she was younger, she put laundry detergent into the dishwasher and that there was foam everywhere. That wacky, crazy girl…
Then, she tells me she has just used the Palmolive dish soap in our dishwasher.
Me: WHAT! There’s going to be foam all over the floor when you leave and I’ll have to clean it up!
Kate: No no. It’s fine. We use it to wash the dishes. It’s the same thing. You have to trust me.
Me: Great.
There are few times when a woman can blatantly claim to be right and actually be right. And not just because the other person gave up.
I. WAS. RIGHT.
16 Feb
You can borrow my car
As you might imagine, there is a considerable difference between the work environment and quality of life here and in the big apple.
Big Apple
“What are your plans this weekend?”
“Laundry! Oh and I might meet some friends for a liquid brunch. I’ll probably be working most of it, though.”
“Yeah, me to, sans the liquid brunch.”
“uh huh.” *continues typing
Here (God’s honest truth)
“What are your plans this weekend?”
“Well – I heard Saturday was going to be sunny, so I think I’d like to do something outdoors, maybe a good hike.”
“You know we’re closed on Friday, right?”
“Oh yeah?”
“Monday too.”
“Yeah?!”
“You should go to the coast – or go skiing.”
“Oh yes, we talked about doing that.”
“Yeah, you should. I’m taking a weekend trip with my family, you can borrow my car if you’d like. It’s a stick.”
“Oh, I can’t drive stick, so I don’t think you would want me to borrow your car.”
“Yeah, no I don’t think that would be good.”
“You’re so nice to offer. Thank you.”
*smile
16 Feb
Pam, the Yogi for Beginners
Portland makes you a little granola. You want to wear Keen shoes and cotton, stretchy pants, sit cross-legged while you have your coffee and read some undiscovered first edition poetry book by Amy Ray or someone.
Since I’m working eastern standard hours, I need to find something productive with my afternoons. That, and I need to be sociable (since I work from home), and not get fat (since I work from home). I decided to sign up for some yoga classes down the street. It’s been years since I contorted myself to the sport, but I hate jogging or doing anything that makes me sweat a lot, really… unless it’s eating at Duff’s (mmmmm Duff’s). I got an introductory deal for $20… unlimited classes for two weeks. Unheard of in the city. That would’ve cost me at least a hundred bucks, plus the judgments from snobby regulars with fantastic postures.
Here’s how my first class went:
Counter lady: Here’s your mat. Down the hall, on the left.
I go down the hall and open the door to the studio. I’m 20 minutes early so there are only a couple of people warming up. One is up-side-down, the other is sitting cross-legged with a 24oz. water bottle on her head. I closed the door. I’m early. I’ll wait.
Fifteen minutes later I go back into the dark room with up-side-down people, and it started filling up. Some people had stretchy bands wrapped around their heads and connected to their feet. Some were doing headstands. Some were laying on purple bricks. Some were breathing loudly. I asked a regular, “do I need one of these bricks?” “Um, I mean, we don’t know what she’ll use today.” I grab one anyway and sit back down. After a few minutes of watching contortionists, I realize, this can’t be the class for beginners.
I lean over to a guy with his upper back perched on a brick, “This isn’t Beginners Yoga, is it?”
“Oh, no no. That’s next door.” Thank G-d.
Grab my mat, push through rubber band lady and snobby brick girl with tight pants and go into the right room. This one had 5 people, not 25, was brightly lit and had a bunch of people with lousy postures and smiles looking hopeful. Definitely in the right place.
“HIIIII. I’m PAM!”
“Hi, Pam. I’m Jaime. This must be Beginners Yoga.”
“Yes, this iiiiiissss,” says friendly Pam, the yogi, who talks with her lips pursed and quiet enough that I know she guides meditation.
“That explains why everyone in the other room was up-side-down.”
Awkward smile… she’s thinking, “Is this what humans call sarcasm?” Yes, Pam. It is.
Thirteen days to go to make this $20 worth while.
And why does everything they say end in “anasanaaaaa?”
15 Feb
Finding clarity in the chaos
Today was exhuasting. It was like being flown into the middle of the jungle, handed a parachute and pushed out of the plane.
This is the painful part. Finding the morsels of information hidden in minds, on napkins, in e-mail, on Sharepoint, in chat windows, on basecamp, on sketch pad; cross-referencing; stitching them together; vetting them with the stakeholders; discovering there are new stakeholders; discovering that there’s actually two other producers in Europe on this and you’re all unclear on who the hell is doing what; asking for a brief /some objectives / something; finally wrapping your head around the scope and then realizing that the idea as incomplete; throwing it all against a wall and trying to determine what the KPIs should be.
And all this while time is running out.
You know you’ll figure it out. You know you’ll have a successful launch. You know it’s too early to really start freaking out. You know you can’t look stressed because your team will doubt you or find you scary or call you “intense.” You know even more that you’ll be forced to do a shot if one more person advises you on its “cluster” status.
But that’s digital production. It’s masochistic and chaotic. It’s a big trippy labyrinth – a wild game with schwag and portfolio highlights as prizes. You work with amazing minds, you act on a dime, you swear you’re going to have an aneurysm and you do not take a deep breath until after it is live.
15 Feb
Rite Aid Robbery and a Red Tutu
How’s that for a title? I’ve become less and less surprised by the things I’m seeing here. You’d think I’d be used to strange by now. Here, I don’t get the sense that they are the “crazies” I’ve come to love and lovingly avoid in New York. They are artists, creative people who are free to express themselves. If New York is where the success-driven masses come to rule the world, Portland is where those who strive for freedom go to retire from never trying. It’s not that they don’t want success, they just define it differently. Community, love, expression, kindness, greenness… equal success. If they were rich, you wouldn’t guess it by their Channel bags or Louis shoes. You’d see it in their faces.
Yesterday I found a lone pharmacy, a Rite Aid, hidden in the neighborhood. While inside, digging for a very last-minute Valentine’s Day card, a man brushes by me, “Excuse me,” followed by a woman who worked there yelling, “are you going to pay for that six-pack this time?!” He just kept walking in front of all of us. Everyone smiled and saluted the woman’s effort. I was just amazed he had the manners to excuse himself. THAT would never happen in the Big Apple. I left to wander some more like a tourist, looking up and around instead of straight ahead. Of course there was a woman wearing a bright red tutu walking carelessly across the street. She wasn’t wearing a costume.She was’t going to a dance class. She just was. And no one stopped what they were doing to gawk at her.
I think I’m going to like it here.
-jaime
14 Feb
The first day
Yesterday was my first day on my new job. Would have updated this last night, but when I got home from work, Jaime had surprised with a dozen cherry-red tulips and a delicious steak dinner with roasted fingerling potatoes and Brussel sprouts. I wasn’t about to be like “oh this is so great! can you hang right there, I need to update my blog.”
We woke at 6 so that Jaime could start work. It’s actually nice being up at that time. Everything is so quiet and the view out the window is dreamy with pretty color lights dancing up the mountainside.
Anyhow. At around 9:15, I headed out to work. It took me 1 minute to get there. Literally. It is across the street! I confess that I still used my GPS. I did. I was walking and I knew it was in between Davis and Everett, but I couldn’t see the numbers. Nancy may have well said “Look up, you dumbass!” because when I turned her on, she was very abrupt with her statement “you are AT your destination!” It echoed and I felt dumb.
I received a tour of the office from a nice girl named Porsche. How cool of a name is that!? Oh, and there’s another girl in the office whose name is “Amber lavender.” LOL. Awesome, no? “Amber Sage lavender you come here NOW!”
Ok, so this office puts JWT to shame. It’s all wooden floors and open. Nice kitchen on each floor. An atrium with a ping-pong table and grand piano. Props (giant popcorn boxes, giant slices of pie) everywhere you look. A conference room encased in sticks to look like a nest. A free coke machine. A giant cafeteria with outside deck, bbq grills and an unobstructed view of Mt Hood and Mt saint Helen. I wept.
I met my team about 30 minutes later and away-we-went! The project is huge and goes live in 5 weeks! This is the largest project I have ever worked on (in terms of exposure). I am PSYCHED about the concept, the execution and how we will track user engagement. It’s a little chaotic as I’m taking a hand off from a guy who just took a hand off, but I know what I need to do. I am really impressed with the people I work with – they are very talented and knowledgeable so I am looking forward to our collaborations.
Funny story, so I got hungry and decided to head out for lunch. To me, nothing is more embarrassing than getting lost in the office on your first day, so – as I was taught in Wilderness Wise, I took a visual inventory of my surroundings – white bike, printer to the left, giant slice of cherry pie to my right. Yes – my marker is a giant slice of cherry pie!
Another funny story. My tech director asked me to help him draft an email last night. In the middle of giving me direction, he stopped, looked at his watch and exclaimed “Ugh – it’s late!” It was 6pm. I wept again. Yes, my friends – these people leave work at 6pm!
Anyhow. The environment fosters creativity and quality of life, so I feel good about it. People work really hard, but they still take time to chit-chat with each other about weekend adventures, child rearing and new foods from Whole Foods. I know I will work hard – mainly cause I want to show my shit – but I know I won’t work to death.
Okay, have to get ready for the day
Happy Birthday, Jaime! You’re 365 days away from 30!
Kate
13 Feb
The Voodoo in Doughnuts
This afternoon we decided to go on an adventure to Voodoo Doughnuts, a must-taste of Portland.
We got there to find a line of 60+ hungry people wrapped around the side of the building. Jaime asked if I minded the line and I told her, “the biggest regret I have is that I never tried Pink’s hot dogs in LA – only because of the line.” So – we scrambled up behind a couple of chain-smoking out-of-towners and waited.
ONE HOUR LATER (no joke) and fully saturated with *secondhand cancer, we found ourselves at the front of the building. This was much more interesting than the side of the building, because it featured a stretch limo with a handicap sign. I found this to be remarkable. The driver – who looked very much like Skipper from Gilligan’s Island, cept with inspiring side chops was in fact handicapped (Bum leg), and was offering rides as a gypsy cab would in Brooklyn.
A family of 4 took him up on the offer and in just 3 minutes, the limo pulled away with 2 tired parents and 2 delightedly sugar-crazed 7 year-olds in the back. This all happened before a building tagged with, “Keep Portland Weird.” I kept looking for cameras.
Finally, it was our turn to enter the doughnut shop. I have never SEEN so many doughnuts of varying flavors, shapes and decor. I had the Dirt doughnut and a chocolate coconut and Jaime had a Dirt doughnut and a Bacon Maple Bar (which I refused to try).
We took our doughnuts a couple blocks away and ate them in a recreational area off of the water. Yes – we mowed down on confections while cyclists and those training for the next marathon whizzed by – shunning us.
Oh and I forgot to mention. Jaime also bought a Voodoo Dozen for her work pals and FedExed them overnight to arrive tomorrow. Voodoo puts the doughnuts in a big girly pink box which everyone recognizes and makes cooing noises at. Best example, a not-homeless guy asked us to spare some change:
“No – I’m sorry man.”
“Oh Sweet! you got Voodoo Doughnuts! Awe-sommmmmme.”
*I frequently fantasize about bringing a bottle of Lavendar Febreeze out with me (it could fit in my purse) and when people smoke around me, just fogging them with the can until my index finger starts to hurt.
– Kate
13 Feb
Twooooo OYsssTTTEEERRRRSS (say it out loud like that)
Had out first dinner out in Portland’s South East area. A long drive of about 6 minutes and Nancy, our GPS vocals, lead the way. Barb, the odd other voice that cuts Nance off at times, chimes in for quick lefts. She’s so finicky.
We met Kindi and Chad (the latter for the first time) at Le Bistro Montage, more specifically the bar next door. There was a wait forever, apparently. The bar was wall-to-wall a rotating collection of artwork. A cubist version of The Last Supper, a pink pig, a collection of objects photographed, framed together, and a giant wasp. We chatted over Bump in the Night beers, the name is worthy of calling out certainly. People all around us are always including us into their circles. Nice people everywhere. This jaded New Yorker thinks it’s an odd cultural study, and by far the city’s finest attribute by day one, at least. Who knew? EVERYONE is nice. Fantastic.
We got into the restaurant for dinner and sat across eachother on the center, long communal table. The space was great. Ordered spicy catfish jambalaya and hush-puppies. TWOOOOOO OYSssssTTTERRRRRSSSssss… the waiters would scream out of no where to make the order. I jumped every time, then smiled (as did the waiters) at how great of a show it was. All around us, as people paid their bills, a zoo of animals landed on their tables… scorpions, cats, mice, a two-foot giraffe. Another shtick. They wrapped your leftovers in wild foil shapes. It was a hoot. I got a duck… or a scorpion. Not sure. Probably wasn’t the artists best work, but at least I get to have that jambalaya again. Saturday one: accomplished.
-Jaime
12 Feb
Accidental Window Shopping at Spartacus Adult Shop
“Look Jaime. That’s the type of metal work I WANTED to do for the mirror stand.”
“Kate. No one that sees you looking in this window thinks you’re talking about the metal work.”
“No, but I was pointing…”
“No.”
-jaime
12 Feb
The Journey from JFK > PDX
We did a pretty good job of planning out our final days. We went to our favorite restaurants, ate from our favorite bakeries, broke our errands into bite-size manageable pieces. The only thing we procrastinated was the packing. I mean – how do you pack for 2 months? Thanks to the advice from Kate’s dad, we made a list of each room and the items we would need. Due to the fact that our Portland Apt. was pretty damn stocked, we didn’t need that much. We packed and repacked a few times to ensure we weren’t over-packing, but still – I think it is safe to say that our luggage weighed more than our body weights combined.
We decided to head to JFK 2 hours before the flight just to be safe. Our gypsy cab arrived 15 minutes late with a trunk full of shit (plastic crates, an empty gas caddy, a vintage clown) and a latch that was faulty. Imagine heaving over 100 lbs of luggage over icy snow with mine fields of dog crap and cat litter (yes, there was cat litter in the snow bank) only to discover that the trunk would not close. Kate immediately asked the driver if he had bungees (Magroober!), but the grace of God, we did not need them as the trunk did eventually close. and off we went.
We got to the airport in about 45 minutes and dragged ourselves to the Delta attendant to check in. Man was that a pain in the ass. The lady must have been training her colleague because she was by-the-book – citing excerpts from the Delta 2011 terms and conditions.
“Okay so we’re checking two bags and then we have the pets.”
“Pets?”
“Yes – two dogs and a cat. It should be noted on our reservation.”
“Okay, okay. I need to see. There’s two in there?”
“Two dogs in one, fat cat in the other.”
Silence.
“This should be noted on our reservation.”
Calls manager. Manager arrives. “They should be able to stand up and turn around.”
“Yes – they can.”
“I need to see.”
Opens cage. “Say hi, boys.”
“Oh, they’re cute. They need to be the same sex.”
“They are. They’re both boys.”
“How do we know?”
“We can show you.”
“Oh no. That’s private.”
After we got through security, sedated Loopy became a little irritable. You know, hissing, growling, banging his head at the top of the bag. It was very much like “David after the dentist” you know – except with hissing. As we got about 9,789 feet up, he passed back out, but we think that could be attributed to the fact that, at that very moment, Kojak started his nervous farting. We managed to refract the fumes with the powerful ventilation system above us. Sorry row 21.
We landed in Portland around 12:30 a.m. EST. We loaded up the Toyota Matrix and headed down the 205 to our new home.
2mnthsinportlandia 
