Alphabet Winter Hibernation

The weather channel has issued an alert.  Family in the Midwest have called to taunt.  Even my friendly Street Sheet salesman, Slater, gave me the heads up as I came in the door yesterday...  it's going to snow in San Francisco this weekend.  That's right.  And it might even stick to the ground for a few minutes up on Twin Peaks. I know, it's ridiculous. Crazy weather!  Climate Change!  But I think an East Coast vs. West Coast 90's style feud has started.*  Finally, they say, those Californians are experiencing winterWe, they think to themselves, have been dealing with the worst winter since 1972 (date that is completely made up by author), it's about time they got a dose of true winter.  What people from The East don't seem to understand is just how cold 40 degrees (with rain and fog) in this godforsaken city can be.  Especially when you live in an old Victorian apartment with no central heating!  And then you and your two housemates plug in your space heaters at the same time, then someone decides to blow dry their hair, and poof!  No temperature difference between inside and outside.  It's enough makes one consider the advantages of being able to afford one's own apartment (equipped with heating and laundry) in Buffalo or Burlington.

For what you pay in San Francisco for a dingy, rundown studio in some rich family's basement, in Burlington you can get a NEW two bedroom apartment (Thanks, Craigslist!).  What I wouldn't do with a two bedroom!  Oh the crafting space!

That's it.  I'm following Lorien and Ryan out to Vermont.  It's just as weird and at least they know how to insulate their buildings!

In the mean time, though, those of us stay-cationers here in the Bay Area should all brace ourselves for the killer snowflakes that are headed our way.  Long johns and Smartwool socks, check.  Throat Coat tea, check.  Rain boots for the sure-to-be-rainy snowstorm... check.  See you on the flip side, friends.

*Please note: Author does not truly know who she is.  A Midwesterner? A Californian?  Feel free to state your opinion.

Alphabet Novelties


Well, it's officially official. I am a National Novel Writing Month champion!
Yesterday, November 28th at about 7:00pm, I finished writing and clocked in at 50,050 words, sick of the sight of my main character, her name, and her annoying habits. One day later, though, I have to admit something. I miss her and her lack of personality a little bit. I even found myself missing the weight of the heavy laptop I schlepped around town all month. And I most definitely miss drinking cafe au laits with my writing posse, distracting ourselves with word clouds on wordle.net and catching each other on Facebook when we really should have been writing. Good times. But, alas, I've always been the sentimental type. I'll eventually get over it.
While the novel as a whole is entirely too bad to share, what with it's cringe-worthy romantic encounters and complete lack of character development, the experience in itself was highly enjoyable.
And I learned an important lesson about fiction writing.
It's HARD!
It makes me re-think my whole identity as a reader. How easy is it for us to soak up a novel in, what, two days? When in reality, the writer has poured hours upon months upon years into those 200 pages. And then has had someone sit down and pick it apart. If "Spanish Ham" even sees the light of a bedside table, it will look absolutely nothing like it does now. It might not even be called "Spanish Ham," but something atrocious like "An American in Valencia" or "Love in the time of Oranges." Yikes.
Even though in the end I have done this only for myself (can you believe NaNoWriMo doesn't give monetary prizes for crossing the finish line!?), I have decided to share a small snippet. A bad snippet, but a snippet it is.
And you better believe I edited this excerpt at least fourteen times before posting it here, and it's still bad. Considering it took me about 24 hours to revise 800 words, don't be expecting to read more anytime soon.
(My main character has gone to a soccer game alone because her BF is out of town and she wanted to gain some "life perspective" by experiencing it on her own.)

And there she was, at 7:30, in the vomitory seat where the previous night she had sworn that this was going to be therapeutic. As she looked at the empty seat next to her, she wondered if she shouldn’t have just called Paco to see if she could give his ticket to one of her friends. But which one of her leftie-indie-hippie friends would have taken her up on that offer? She did, however, half expect one of Gabi’s other crazy family members to appear on the spot.
But kickoff came and went, and still no seat filler. She looked down at the field. Nothing exciting going on. A lot of back and forth. Five, ten minutes passed. She looked around her in the stands. A group of boys in their late teens shouting into their cell phones about some party on Friday. A group of middle-aged men. A little girl with her dad. Ugh, maybe this was not the ideal place to come to any life conclusions. The little girl next to her started making head motions towards her, apparently intrigued by this light-haired fair-skinned lady who was on her own and very out of place. Entertainment, Farrah thought, and asked her the first thing that came to her mind.
“Do you like watching the soccer?” was all she could come up with.
The girl looked at her dad, who was too busy making violent arm gestures towards the field to notice his daughter eyeing him for assistance.
“You know,” Farrah continued, “When I was your age, my dad used to take me to see football.” The girl played with her Valencia scarf, but Farrah sensed she was listening. “I used to love it, all the shouting and the jumping up and down. What do you think of it?”
The girl hesitated. “It’s alright,” she whispered, “My brother normally comes, but he is in trouble, so my dad brought me.” Her last statement was in a braver tone of voice, more confident.
Farrah was only thinking about the unfairness of it all. Why does the brother get to go and not her? Typical.
“I have an idea,” Farrah was scheming. “What’s your name?”
“Carmen,” she stated.
“Good, Carmen. Listen. You have to show your dad that you love coming here, that way he’ll bring you all the time. Not just when your brother can’t come. Football is not just for boys, you know.”
“But I don’t really like all of the shouting,” she admitted.
“Well, you’ll see, you’ll see how it’s actually very exciting,” Farrah slipped in, more for herself than for Carmen.
At that moment, Valencia’s forward took a shot on goal, high over the left side of the cage, sending everyone to their feet. Farrah let out an enormous groan, Carmen holding both arms high in the air while her dad yelled “FUCKING SHIT!” She looked over to Farrah as if to say, “What do you expect me to do about this guy?”
As Farrah turned away to giggle, her foreigner radar honed in on a blue-jeaned Americano approaching. Oh god, he’s coming over to this empty seat, she thought.
“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” He asked in perfectly American English. Dammit. Yes, yes it’s taken. Go away, if I wanted to meet Americans, I would still be living in America. No, don't be like that. Be nice, Farrah.
“No, it’s not,” she finally squeaked out, careful not to be speaking too loudly in English, so as to not lose face with Carmen.
He sat down. She turned back to her only other hope for salvation, but Carmen was involved in some kind of cell phone-texting scheme with her dad.
“Whose seat is this?” the stranger asked, and Farrah noticed a neutral accent, most likely from the central part of the homeland, perhaps Colorado or even one of the Dakotas.
Extremely hesitant and not wanting to get sucked into the same old Ex-Pat conversation, Farrah brusquely stated, “It belongs to a friend who is out of town.” And she hoped that would, by some miracle, stop the conversation.
“Do you live here?” He continued.
Sigh. “Yes, for many years now.” She said, sounding arrogant to anyone but herself.
“Oh, I see. Yeah, I’ve been here for a bit, you know, traveling around and all of that. My name is James.” He slipped in that last part as if she had actually asked.
“Farrah.”
“Ah! Like Farrah Fawcett! Nice!” James said, in the same way that the Spaniards would say, “Oh, like farra! Let’s go out for some farra!” Which would, of course, make Farrah feel the opposite of wanting to have a crazy party. But she forced out a smile, which clearly invited him to continue the interrogation.
“How is it that you have been here for so long, Farrah Fawcett?”


So, there you have a piece of "Spanish Ham." Pretty hammy, huh?
Now, for your further enjoyment: A wordle.net word cloud that represents the top 500 words used in my novel. The more a word is used, the bigger it gets:

What is Alphabet Summer up to?

Well, yes, it could be time to call it Alphabet Autumn, or even Alphabet Indian Summer for those of you in the Bay Area.  But even though my crafting fingers haven't been making crafty things, I have been keeping my little alphabet soul busy during this month of November. I have been writing a novel!  Yes, I said, NOVEL!  50,000 words to be exact.  Today, which is day #23, I am officially on track with my word count!  38,440 words and counting.  Ten days to go,  and a little over 12,000 words to go. Inspired by (first and foremost) my friend Molly last year, and then later by my bf Chris, or as the program director Lindsey referred to him the other day, the "reason for the season," the goal is to write an entire novel during the month of November. Check it out: National Novel Writing Month What is my novel about? Wouldn't we all like to know. It's a very mediocre story about an American girl named Farrah who lives and works in Valencia, Spain. Hmmm, sound familiar? Yes, I decided to stick to what I know for the first try. It started out as a kind of Nick Hornby-esque story about a girl who goes to some soccer games (football, or futbol for some of you) and it literally has turned into more of a Bridget Jones-esque romantic comedy. But what can you do? I recently just made a fourteen year old girl named Arantxa (who didn't even exist a week ago) into a key player in the resolution of the love story. But whatever! It's fun, and I'm highly enjoying taking on the "novelist persona" that gives me the right to occupy tables at coffee shops for hours on end. Not to mention the friendly competition amongst other participants, including my own boyfriend (my word count has been above his for the entire month thank you very much.) On Sunday night, I had the distinct privilege to attend the NaNoWriMo fund raising event called "The Night of Writing Dangerously." It was amazing. Imagine: Wedding reception in a ballroom in the financial district of San Francisco, but except the tables were filled with not gaudy centerpieces and name cards, but laptops. And they were serving drinks called "Novel-tini's" and "Cosmo-novel-tons." It was open bar. Need I say more. Check out the amazing poster: Oh, also, I have discovered Google Reader and also Twitter. There are so many blogs and so little time! I'm alphabetashley on Twitter, if you are interested! November 30th, here I come!

Z is for Zeitgeist! (The End.)

True to it’s definition in the Merriam-Webster dictionary (the general intellectual, moral and cultural climate of an era), Zeitgeist has been more than representative of this era in my life.
The closest bar to school, I have spent many sunny (read: chilly) San Francisco Friday afternoons on the patio at Zeitgeist.  For those of you who have not experienced this place, I am sorry to say that I have no picture proof.  Because of the “flexibility” on what you can smoke outside on their enormous open-air terrace, the “photo police” are on constant patrol.  So, I am challenged on my last blog entry (sad sigh) to photograph the big Z in words.
Picture (for those Ann Arborites) a very large Dominicks, minus the family vibe, plus a large biker-bar contingency.  Wallet chains, tattoos, suped-up hipster road bikes hanging from the bike rack with the warning to not leave your bike or else it will be gone.  Four Port-O-Potties, delicious hamburgers, and the occasional Tamale lady.  The best Bloody Mary in town, according to some.  Sunglasses, skinny jeans, card playing, giant heavy glass pitchers of beer, American Spirits and Parliaments as far as the eye can see.
Check out their website for a few actual photos!  http://www.zeitgeistsf.com/
I chose to celebrate the end of my blog drinking the only beer with a Z in the name, the Franziskaner Hefeweisen.  Delicious.  Now, here comes the Zeitgeist-induced self reflection!
Favorite blog entry:
I really enjoyed talking to my Grandma.  I think that was the most fun, in terms of process and final result.  In terms of a crafty activity, I really like the DIY skinny pants I made!
Hardest blog entry:
Well, naturally, the most physically and mentally demanding one was that bloody Patchwork Quilt.
Most enjoyable to make blog entry:
I had so much fun at the Tea Party!  That was a great day.  The X-tra credit research was also fun, in that dorky way. And obviously, Vacation was unbeatable.
Favorite thing about blogging:
My favorite thing about this experience has been the writing.  It turns out I really enjoy writing!  I was scarred by graduate school, and assumed the process of writing and editing was always painfully boring.
What have I learned from this experience?
That when I get set on something I like, I become stubbornly obsessed with it!  I had several minor panic-attacks when something went wrong (paypal sucks) or when I would have trouble coming up with ideas.
What would I change for future Alphabet Summers?
Not a lot.  I think I would like to have more photography skills in order to properly capture the experience.  I would also love more web design and HTML knowledge.  And while I’m asking for things, I’d also like a bigger work space!
I would like to say thank you to everybody who kept up with my little summer challenge. Thanks to my devoted comment-ers, who made me smile. Also important to me were those silent partners out there, too. You guys rock.
This is just the end for now.
Thanks and adiós por ahora!

Y is for Year.

Last week, on the first day of school (yes, I realize I missed my August 23rd deadline by two!), I heard Jodi greeting everybody with an enthusiastic “Happy New Year!” Such wise words, I thought to myself, especially now as I enter into my second year in San Francisco.
To commemorate that first year, I made a collage. If I've learned one thing from the Quakers, it's that thoughtful reflection is therapeutic. My collage looks like something out of a third grade art show, but essentially it did the job. It's amazing what a color printer and some Mod Podge can do!  For lack of picture proof, a lot of things are not included, but some memorable ones are: My first breakfast at Tartine, my first trip to the two story Target (with shopping cart escalator), carrying Stella in the Baby Bjorn, and of course, my trip with the 7th graders to Nicaragua.
As I embark upon my second year in the Friendly middle school world in San Paquito, I realize that I have gained not only an inspirational group of colleagues, several dear and devoted friends, and a loving and bearded boyfriend. I have also gained invaluable knowledge about the world, about being green, and about crafting.
But, like in all reflective practices, one cannot help get nostalgic.  As this Alphabet Summer draws to a close, I can't help but honor those ladies whose Tuesday evening traditions were my true inspiration.  May the crafting spirit stay alive for everyone!

X-tra credit!

Were you one of those people who always took the extra credit opportunities in school?  I think it says something about a person, whether or not they are comfortable broadcasting their own nerdiness to the entire class.  As a middle school teacher, I am reminded of how it takes a very special teenager to actually do this.  But there they are, the geeked-out minority, not afraid to rush up to the board to conjugate a verb.  And, bless them, they will most likely grow up to write a blog entry about how finding extra information for the sake of learning is oh-so-thrilling.
On that note, this summer, many questions have come up.  So many, in fact, that they have been written down into a little notebook.  So, I have set out on this second to last weekday of freedom to uncover the mysteries and give myself gold stars for extra credit.

1. What exactly is a glacier? And I can’t remember how to say it in Spanish. 2. What causes a volcano? 3. What is up with the supervolcano in Yellowstone? 4. Why are barns red? 5. How did those dumb car stickers with Calvin peeing start? 6. How does Google know about traffic? 7. Who was the original artist that made those catchy newspaper cut-out magnets with 50’s housewives on them? 8. Why is there only one type of bear spray on sale in Montana? And why is it so expensive? 9. Why do all movies use 555 numbers?

Okay.  So here’s the dirt:
1. According to Wikipedia, a glacier is a perennial mass of ice which moves over land.  Se dice glaciar en español.  Duh. This is the Perito Moreno glaciar en Argentina.
2. Well, here it is, thanks Wikipedia: There are four causes that I could determine:  Volcanoes are generally found where tectonic plates diverging (moving away from each other) or converging (colliding). A mid-oceanic ridge, for example the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, has examples of volcanoes caused by divergent tectonic plates Pacific Ring of Fire has examples of volcanoes caused by convergent tectonic plates coming together. By contrast, volcanoes are usually not created where two tectonic plates slide past one another. Volcanoes can also form where there is stretching and thinning of the Earth's crust (called "non-hotspot intraplate volcanism"), such as in the East African Rift, the Wells Gray-Clearwater volcanic field and the Rio Grande Rift in North America.  Volcanoes can be caused by mantle plumes. These so-called hotspots, for example at Hawaii, can occur far from plate boundaries. Hotspot volcanoes are also found elsewhere in the solar system, especially on rocky planets and moons.
3. The Yellowstone Caldera, or the Yellowstone Supervolcano, like Hawaii, is believed to lie on top of an area called a hotspot, where light, hot, molten mantle rock rises towards the surface.  The area experiences between 1,000 and 2,000 measurable earthquakes a year, but the last full scale volcanic eruption occurred 640,000 years ago.  Residents of Victor Idaho and the surrounding area can rest assured, because the U.S. Geological Survey, University of Utah and National Park Service scientists with the Yellowstone Volcano Observatory maintain that they "see no evidence that another such cataclysmic eruption will occur at Yellowstone in the foreseeable future. Recurrence intervals of these events are neither regular nor predictable."[Wikipedia] Phew!
4.  According to the Farmer’s Almanac: Many years ago, choices for paints, sealers and other building materials did not exist. Farmers had to be resourceful in finding or making a paint that would protect and seal the wood on their barns. Hundreds of years ago, many farmers would seal their barns with linseed oil, which is an orange-colored oil derived from the seeds of the flax plant. To this oil, they would add a variety of things, most often milk and lime, but also ferrous oxide, or rust. Rust was plentiful on farms and because it killed fungi and mosses that might grow on barns, was very effective as a sealant. It turned the mixture red in color.  When paint became more available, many people chose red paint for their barns in honor of tradition. Interesting.
5. Origin of Calvin peeing stickers. As far as I could find out, the stickers are not sanctioned by the creator of Calvin & Hobbes, and the only “real” information I could get on who was the first to do this was from sites like Uncyclopedia and the Onion.  But, I did find this out on Wikipedia:  Almost no legitimate Calvin and Hobbes merchandise exists outside of the book collections. However, the strip's immense popularity has led to the appearance of various counterfeit items such as window decals and T-shirts that often feature crude humor, binge drinking and other themes that are not found in Watterson's work. After threat of a lawsuit alleging infringement of copyright and trademark, some sticker makers replaced Calvin with a different boy, while other makers made no changes. Watterson wryly commented, "I clearly miscalculated how popular it would be to show Calvin urinating on a Ford logo."
6. Holy...  Ain’t technology somethin’? “If you use “Google Maps for mobile” with GPS enabled on your phone, that's exactly what you can do. When you choose to enable Google Maps with “My Location”, your phone sends anonymous bits of data back to Google describing how fast you're moving. When we combine your speed with the speed of other phones on the road, across thousands of phones moving around a city at any given time, we can get a pretty good picture of live traffic conditions. We continuously combine this data and send it back to you for free in the Google Maps traffic layers. It takes almost zero effort on your part — just turn on Google Maps for mobile before starting your car — and the more people that participate, the better the resulting traffic reports get for everybody.” http://googlemobile.blogspot.com/2009/08/bright-side-of-sitting-in-traffic.html
7. Anne Taintor:  http://www.annetaintor.com/
8. Bear spray.  The only one we could find on sale in Glacier National Park was the brand “Counter Assault,” which is advertised as “the Original.”  But I figured out why we could only find this one kind ($49.99/canister).  According to their website (http://counterassault.com), they are the official providers to many government agencies, one of them being the US National Park Service.  Ah ha!  P.S. If you are going there let me know, you can have our unused (thank god) canister. Also, they don’t tell you what to do in the case you do encounter a bear, so I found this great website (if you ignore the comic sans), if you’re interested:  http://www.yellowstone-bearman.com/b_spray.html
9.   The question about the 555 numbers came up under the argument, “When you see a 555 on the movie screen, doesn’t this just remind the audience that what they’re watching is fake?”  Well, once again, I consulted the Wikipedia machine, and found this interestingness out: Phone companies encouraged movie companies to use the 555 prefix starting in the 1960’s.  Nowadays, only 555-0100 through 555-0199 are reserved for fictional usage, and only within the US.  Check the website for a funny story about Gary Larson being sued in Australia for having used a 555 prefix to call Satan (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/555_%28telephone_number%29).  Ha ha!
Do I get my extra credit points?

W for Wallet.

Ahh, yes.  My favorite item to make.  I wonder why that is.  Is it my general philosophy on crafts and men, that they must carry a lot of cash?  Ha!  No, that’s not it at all.  I think it’s because we look at wallets almost as much as we look at our cell phones, and having them made with pretty batiks is just so aesthetically pleasing.  Yes.  It’s so pleasing, in fact, that it nearly offsets the anxiety one feels when the wallet is opened only to find that there is, in fact, no cash, and the nearest ATM is four blocks away.  Nearly.
Nevertheless, this particular wallet was custom made for one Victor Idahoan as a replacement for a previous model (Note to potential customers: my wallets are not necessarily like Apple products and do not need an upgrade after two years.  She just wanted a new one.)
I was given free reign on the design and colors, and while it came out bigger than expected, the bright side is that it can now double as a passport holder!  My “company name” is currently in limbo (Alphabet something or my old Olive? Any ideas?) so I opted for the free-hand “Libby,” which did get a few excited yelps from female friends and wallet covet-ers.
Have a look at the wallet-of-fame:

V is for Vacation!

This could be the most well traveled blog entry yet! 3,411 miles, five states, many mountains and several pounds of ice cream later, the letter V has earned it’s victory as the most liberating activity in the alphabet.
In a post-vacation downer today, I sought alphabetical inspiration in Ken Burns´documentary on the National Parks. America´s Greatest Idea Ever, it seems! Don’t get me wrong, I am not taking for granted the fact that I got to see not only the breathtaking Grand Teton National Park but ALSO the awe-inspiring Glacier National Park in one ten-day journey. And surely these places have inspired many a writer, politician and tree-hugger. But where documentaries, pictures and words cannot do justice, I will just say that you must see these places. And hurry! The World’s Greatest Destroyer Ever, Global Warming is making the glaciers go bye-bye.
Besides the “ooohs” and “wows” and “holy mothers,” there were other highlights from this epic natural expedition. Montana, it turns out, is a heavenly place to be, especially in the summer. Now I truly understand the meaning of “Big Sky.” And the license plates! They have 135 different options! Talk about complicating the license plate game, sheesh! (We got 34/50 by the way.) Also, they have the tradition of slapping a giant letter on the town mountain in a very abbreviated Hollywood sign style. My alphabet brain was truly enjoying figuring it out, especially when there was an “M” in Butte and and “L” in Missoula. Perplexing.
Anyway, to conclude, I would like to give a special thanks to: The Salvation Army in Twin Falls, ID for the $.75 belt that held my shorts up; Libby Paglione, for not only reading my blog but for being the best tour guide in Victor, Idaho; The mechanic in Victor for fixing the headlights for free; The Bureau of Land Management for the free camping along Highway 50; The Sleep Inn, Idaho Falls for the first shower after four days of camping; Chris’ mom, Martha, for the GPS unit that persevered where the iPhone failed; Nick Hornby, for writing Juliet Naked so that we could listen to the audio book for nearly 8 hours; The voice actors on the Juliet Naked audio book for doing unintentionally hilarious American/English/Scotish accents; and last, but certainly not least, Doodle Jump, the best/worst iPhone game since Angry Birds.

U is for Used Books.

A lot of people were curious to know what I missed about the US while living abroad for so long.  Big hamburgers?  Giant parking spots?  Spatial awareness while walking down the street?  Nope. Used bookshops!  And, I arguably chose the best neighborhood to find these dusty treasures.  Although most recently my favorite has been Half-Price Books in Berkeley, the Mission is loaded with second-hand reading material.  In honor of my one-year anniversary of being back in the US of A, I decided to take a used book tour and look for U authors. Unlikely?  Perhaps.  I started out at my house on 16th street and ended up at the ultimate used-book center: the Mission branch of the SF Public Library.
My first stop wasn’t a long journey: Adobe books, literally across the street.  By far the most chaotic in terms of organization, Adobe is also the coolest and the quirkiest bookshop in the neighborhood.  It’s full of dusty paperbacks, worn-out lounge chairs and even more broken-in SF natives.  Today, I went to the Spanish section to look for my U book:  Score!  An staple from any undergrad Spanish lit course: Miguel de Unamuno, San Manuel Bueno, Martir.  On the inside, a bookplate proving its origin at the UT Austin Department of Spanish and Portuguese.
Next up, Community Thrift.  Usually fairly reliable for $1 books, but unfortunately today’s trip was quick.  Their “U” section?  One book.
Further down Valencia street, I thought I would try out the sci-fi specializing Borderlands, whose U/V combined section contained approximately zero books by U authors.  Next door at Modern Times Book Shop, another fruitless search through their used book section, which consists of a cart on the street.
On to Dog Eared Books, also known as the place where I purchased my first used book in San Francisco (Armistead Maupin’s More Tales of the City.)  Here, I noticed a slight obsession with John Updike.  An entire shelf!  My interest is peaked.  Anyone have any opinions about this author?
My last stop was the library.  Frustrated and fed up with the letter U,  I took on a different mission:  Audio books for my upcoming road trip to Montana.  A sparse selection, but I managed to walk out with a few, including Jack London’s Call of the Wild.
Conclusion? There are not many authors whose names begin with the letter U.

Tea Party!

Yesterday, Molly, Claire and I indeed "took some time for tea" at Lovejoy’s Tea Room in Noe Valley (www.lovejoystearoom.com).  We were truly transported to your English grandmother’s country house for tea and crumpets.  What a tea-rrific place!  Mismatch china to perfectly clash with the mismatch antique furniture, lace and doilies as far as the eye could see.  A mixture of tables full of families, giggling girls like us, and the one standout all-male table.
The Earl Grey and China Rose Petal tea was bottomless, and the sandwiches were crust-less and triangular. Our favorite was the Pear & Stilton sandwich. With two thirds of our party convinced we remembered what Stilton was (me claiming "mild, like a white cheddar" and Claire sure it was "not strong at all"), it turns out to be of the stinky, strong blue variety! The scones were pretty much authentic (according to Claire, an actual Scottish person) and the Double Devon Cream was richer than butter.  Having become a self-proclaimed coffee snob since moving to San Francisco, Lovejoy’s took me back to my days of living with English gals, who would not really consider themselves fully hydrated if they didn’t have at least one cup an hour.
After we finished what the menu referred to as “Light Tea,” involving about 15 cups of tea and 12 pounds of butter, we headed across the street to Lovejoy’s Attic, where you can purchase tea paraphernalia, including (to Claire’s delight) Branson Pickle and McVitie’s biscuits.  And what tea party would be complete without trying on kitschy English party hats?
Afterwards, because for some reason the caffeine in tea doesn’t make your head spin around until you’re sleepy in the same way that coffee does, the three of us were fueled with enough tea energy to take our wallets over to Fort Mason for the Renegade Craft Fair (www.renegadecraft.com), a place which needs no explanation.  As if the day needed more terrific-ness!

S is for Science.

The California Academy of Sciences +21 evening.  Half-price tickets, alcoholic beverages, DJs, and hundreds of twenty and thirty-something “singles looking to mingle.”  Was it science, or simply chemistry?
Full access to the rain forest, the aquarium and the Extreme Mammals exhibit.  A Capoeira show.  All the cool and dorky science fun, minus the kids.  Only, this was really just a bunch of grown kids in a giant adult-sized playground.  Grown women shrieking as they ran to the children’s eel cove.  Some guy shouting things at the sharks.  A museum dude showing a special exhibit of baculum, or penis bones (he was particularly proud of the one belonging to the walrus, which the Eskimos use as a club to hunt.  “It’s really heavy!” he exclaimed!)  It was surreal.
Up with the Extreme Mammals, I learned what it takes to fit into this category, and quite frankly, I felt like a mediocre mammal. I have no large tusks, no enormous antlers or a crazy-long tail! But I was particularly taken with the AMAZING ADJECTIVES they included in all of the descriptions.  Someone was having fun with their thesaurus!  Things like “the biggest brain ever!” and “massive metatarsals” and “unbelievable arm strength” and “the most mind-blowing creatures to ever walk the earth.”  Props to the crafty wordsmith who wrote the clever catch phrases.  My friend Susannah would have been in heaven at the marsupial display, where it explained the “awesome pouch births” with the title, “Hang in there, kids!”  Oh, bless them, trying to make science fun!
Down in the aquarium, it was a pretty dreamy scene.  The lights were low, the house music was turned up, and the cocktails were flowing.  I half expected to find a couple making out near the nautilus tanks.  But alas, it all seemed fairly PG-13, and I managed to get some great shots of the underwater party animals.  My last image was seeing a group of friends plopped down in front of the Phillipine Coral Reef, staring up at the scene, mesmerized while the DJ played Men at Work’s Down Under to close out the night.
Outside in the foggy night, groups of excited mammals were saying their awkward goodbyes, perhaps exchanging phone numbers, perhaps wondering how the hell to get home from the middle of Golden Gate Park. All in all, the evening was very amusing.  A very entertaining way to witness science in action.

R is for Reading.

After the Patchwork Quilt fiasco, I was having trouble looking at the sewing machine.  And the hangover was pretty rough, so I had to come up with an activity that involved sitting still.
One of my favorite sitting-still summertime activities has been to listen to the radio program Forum with Michael Krasny for it’s entire two hour broadcast every morning, while working or doing things around the house (read: checking Facebook).  It’s really hit-or-miss, but one highlight was hearing David Mitchell (author of Cloud Atlas) talk about his new book, and then later that evening going with Chris to hear him read in Cut Wood, CA (Corte Madera).  He is an amazing writer! I haven’t read any of his books yet, but I just know!
Another highlight was the program on Mystery writers.  There were three guests (Cara Black, Jacqueline Winspear and a guy whose name I can’t remember), all mystery writers, and they were invited to discuss their books and the genre in general.  I have never really been a huge mystery reader, but something about them really grabbed my attention.  I really do want to attempt to tackle Cloud Atlas again, but these mystery books just seemed (how do I say it without offending anyone) more accessible.
So, since then I have started reading Murder in Belleville, part of Cara Black’s series that takes place in Paris.  Since, as some of you know, I have taken 16 weeks of French this year and am now not only a fluent French speaker but an expert on France in general, I liked the idea of reading about something familiar.  The main character is Aimée Leduc (whose mother was American, and in flashbacks featuring conversations with her, she refers to herself as Amy.)  The experience has been enjoyable, and I’m admittedly addicted to the plot.  And, once I find out who killed the poor woman in Belleville, I have the added satisfaction that there are 10 more books waiting for me in the series.  Since I’m currently 564th on the wait list for The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, it’s pretty likely that I’ll be spending some more quality time with Aimée.

Mind your Ps and Qs!

I had to wait a full 24 hours before I could find my Ps and Qs to write about this project.  I had to go out and consume some Pints and Quarts to forget about this project.  Me and this project are still not on speaking terms.  This project is such a huge b-word that she takes up two entire letters.  She and I got into a full-on physical battle, and I have to aches and bruises to prove it.  And this morning, when I could barely stand up because I felt like I had done 4,209 squats, I was definitely not “minding my language,” as the expression goes.
This project, I can only imagine, is the equivalent of what a parent must feel towards their child.  A very big commitment, yes, rewarding, sure, mostly a giant pain in the ass, most definitely.  At the moment, the quilt is acting like the bratty teenager who causes irreparable emotional damage without showing any real remorse.  And, if it’s one thing I’ve learned about teenagers, its that it takes a really special one to step up and mend fences.  Therefore, I think I will have to be the one to bite the bullet and make peace.  Sigh.
Patchwork Quilt.  Ugh.  The words still make my upper back/ neck area tense up.  It started out as a fun project.  40% off on materials at the Fabric Outlet on Mission, another awesome Denyse Schmidt pattern, the ambitious confidence that I would be making my first big quilt.  But my eyes were indeed much bigger than my stomach on this one, and three days after I started, I have an aching body and not even a quilt to keep me warm at night.  Perhaps someday, when my knees are healed and I can actually stand up from the sitting position without grimacing, I will forgive this project.  But for now, I’m thinking it’s on to the next letter for some R and R.

Olives and oranges

Not necessarily the most appetizing combination for an appetizer, but clearly a perfect pairing for a pencil case! I went back to my old notebook where I used to record all of the things I made/sold back in Valencia, the home of the oranges. Since I have moved to the “Other Orange Grove,” as some people (me) call California, I haven’t found the time to make/sell much of anything.
So, I wanted to get myself back into the groove by somehow channeling my creative energy towards my former home. I wanted to make something functional, something that would aide in the organizational nightmare that is my desk. So I found the pattern that I used to make Elizabeth and Julio their his & her pencil cases back in February 2009.
The fabric might look familiar to some. One of my jugglers features this exact combo! The olive print comes from a little shop in Ashland, OR. The oranges are from R & C Patchwork near Girona, Spain. Some might also be familiar with my obsession with olives, which became a sort of unregistered brand-name for the things I made/sold in Valencia.
Enjoy the product of my trip down memory lane!

N is for narwhal.

This past June at the end of the school year, me and my students became obsessed with this Scatergories-type game called “Alto!”  Because fifth grade Spanish vocabulary is somewhat limited, we had a rule that one of the words could be given in English, because, in the end, it was supposed to be a fun game.  When the letter “N” came up and one of the underdog teams shouted “ALTO,” I was excited to hear some new voices.  There’s nothing like a good old-fashioned “quiet student finally finding their voice” moment.  So, when they got to the category “animal,” my heart sank.  I had to disqualify them.  They wrote narwhal.  “Um, I think we need to use real animals, chicos,” I said.  You want to hear a room full of twenty-five 10-year-olds go crazy?  Try telling them that an awesome unicorn-like creature (that, in reality, actually does exist) doesn’t exist. They looked at me/ yelled at me like I was some fool who actually believed that the world was flat, and had just tried to convince them of this fact.  Talk about losing credibility!
Since that fateful day, the pesky narwhal sure has poked his little nose into my life in other ways.  Remember back to my late night screen printing class?  Claire’s print was of a narwhal! You can see her beautiful work below. I asked some other non-10-year-olds, and sure enough, they all knew about narwhals.  I consulted the Google machine.  One of the entries calls it, “the best mammal in the ocean.”  There’s a Facebook page dedicated to it.  National Geographic refers to it as “the unicorn of the sea.”  In fact, in the Viking times, narwhal tusks were sold for more than their weight in gold to people believing they were unicorn horns.  And I was thinking it was something out of the latest YA sci-fi fantasy series! Ha!
Today, I set out to redeem myself with the animal kingdom by creating a stuffed animal effigy of this not-so-mythical arctic creature.  Although it wasn’t my intended result to make a caricature of the poor beast, that is what happens when you use a combination of intensely bright colored fabric, not enough stuffing, and absolutely no pattern or warm-up.  In hindsight, I probably should have just written a haiku.

Sources for all of my narwhal knowledge? Where else but National Geographic and Wikipedia.

"M" marathon!

Martes. El martes por la mañana. I have to admit, I started off my marathon feeling a little moody. After a week emerged in the Midwest summer heat, back home in the “sunny” Mission, the clouds and crisp air was making me feel melancholy. So I started out by mailing my friend Mar a letter. I miss her, just like I miss all of my amigas back in my second madre tierra. It made me smile.
Next up, I walked up towards Market street and caught MUNI (SF public transportation) to a movie matinee in the mall on Market and 4th. Me and six other people (three of them women on their own with bags of popcorn, just like me!) enjoyed the film, The Kids are All Right, starring Mark Ruffalo and Julianne Moore. Maybe it was because of the time of the month, or perhaps I was tired and still in the midwest time zone, but this movie made me cry. Me gustó mucho. My favorite kind of movie: memorable character development with a non-cheesy, slightly-awkward portrayal of real life. The music (including MGMT at the end) rocked. Afterwards, I meandered a bit through the mall, walked to Macy’s and contemplated buying makeup at the Mac counter, but decided I didn’t really have the money for such a meaningless purchase.
So I made my way back to the Mission on Bart, direction Millbrae. I grabbed my MacBook and moseyed over to Maxfield’s House of Caffeine (across the street from Mission High) for a single soymilk mocha, where I finally solved the mystery of the word myriad.

This word has plagued me for some time now. I remember being told that it should never be used with the word “of.” I would refer to Interpol’s accurate usage on this one, from the song Slow Hands: “You make me wanna pick up a guitar and celebrate the myriad ways that I love you.” But then yesterday, I was browsing Chris’ guidebook on the windy city (long story), and, noticed this: “The best times to come to Chicago are when the myriad of city-sponsored music and food festivals... (p.6)” Hmmm. If the ultimate grammar geek is using “of,” I need to get to the bottom of this!
So, I consulted the master, the Merriam-Webster online dictionary: “Recent criticism of the use of myriad as a noun, both in the plural form myriads and in the phrase a myriad of, seems to reflect a mistaken belief that the word was originally and is still properly only an adjective. As the entries here show, however, the noun is in fact the older form, dating to the 16th century. The noun myriad has appeared in the works of such writers as Milton (plural myriads) and Thoreau (a myriad of), and it continues to occur frequently in reputable English. There is no reason to avoid it.
I feel much better now, thank you m-w.com!

Next thing on the agenda, to finally cancel that pesky Myspace account that I tried to get rid of about six months ago. This time, within minutes, they followed through, and just like that, my relationship with myspace is all over.

After a mini-siesta to maintain my energy, I met Molly for a beer at the Monk’s Kettle, where we both had Belgian beers (a McChouffe for me, a Maredsous Blonde for Molly) . Then more peeps came and our group multiplied to five and we headed to our favorite Mexican joint in the Mission for some famous margaritas and a meal (I had the torta milanesa: a breaded steak sandwich? Next time, definitely the mole.) The service was mediocre, but the margaritas were magnificent and the company was marvelous. Our last stop, a nightcap mojito. Minty goodness. Then it was off to sleep by midnight. I felt tired, almost like I had just run a marathon.

M musical melodies: Modest Mouse, Maná, MGMT, Joni Mitchell, Madonna, the Magic Numbers, Matisyahu, the Mendoza Line, M. Ward, Laura Marling, Marvin Gaye, Ida Maria, Bob Marley, Lisa Mitchell.

L is for Lioness

In what can only be explained as a “crafting coincidence”, the movie Julie & Julia was on this morning as I was taking a crack at Martha Stewart’s sugar cookie and royal icing recipe.  My daydreaming mind wandered, and before I knew it, I was imagining Meryl Streep playing Martha in the next “amateur blogger meets her womanly role model” genre Hollywood blockbuster. Yikes!
Unlike Julie and her cooking idol, I have never really thought much of Martha and her perfection.  Something about her monotone voice maybe.  Or maybe I am just intimidated by her?  Whatever the case is, a few weeks ago I looked through Claire’s copy of Martha's Encyclopedia of Crafts, and began to have a change of heart.  It all looks so pretty!  Plus, her recipe was pretty much your run-of-the-mill sugar cookie recipe (with the exception that I didn’t have brandy for the cookies or meringue powder (?) for the icing, so I had to substitute milk and egg whites, respectively.)  Any idiot can do it, right?
The lion cookie cutter is clearly a tribute to the crafting lioness herself, Martha.  Unlike her lazier male counterpart, the lioness is motivated, cunning and deadly.  She is a hunter.  She sees what she wants, she examines it, she attacks, she gets what she wants.  Her tenacious spirit and perseverance will never let silly obstacles (like “jail time”) stand in her way.  I was reluctant to admit it before, but she is truly a force to be reckoned with.  She is the queen of her crafting kingdom!
One would think that Martha’s karma would have been with me today, since I was dedicating my craft to her and all.  Well, it wasn’t.  As you can see below, our lion cookies would be more likely to be found in a 2nd grade bake-sale than in Martha Stewart Living.  It was that pesky meringue powder, wasn’t it?  That was a cruel, lioness-like move, Martha...  If it’s going to end up soupy with egg whites, why tell me it’s an acceptable substitute?  Huh?
Oh, well. In the end, they tasted good, but I'm still slightly scared of her.


*Thanks to Jessi K. for the Martha Stewart caliber kitchen supplies.  She got to decorate three whole cookies before Stella demanded her boobs!

And, did you know that Martha had a "moderately successful" modeling career?

K is for kids!

This week, instead of crafting in my habitual cramped quarters in California, I decided to look for inspiration elsewhere.  So, I took the big cross-country flight to meet my newborn niece, Stella K (K!)  Since I’ve arrived, I have received an education on kids, the having of them and, what’s slightly less time-consuming, the aunt-ing of them.
The first thing about kids to remember is that the are constantly producing fluids.  They need to change clothes about three times a day, because they either have a spit-up explosion, a pee explosion, or my personal favorite, a poop explosion. As a proud Tia, I’m happy to boast that Stella is good at all three!  A highlight of the trip was the day that Stella pooped in the bathtub.  This was a special day, not only because of the baby’s digestive fireworks, but also because it was the day that Bailey the Dog’s general anxiety level/ fear of thunderstorms/ slight younger sister jealousy manifested itself in the form of diarrhea.  Twice.  I thought picking up solid dog poop was thrilling, but this was taking it to another level.  But the poor thing, you can’t blame her! That small human steals all of the attention!
So I decided to help out the Kavanagh household by providing more onesies for the little star.  On Monday’s big outing, Jessi and I went to exotic New Jersey to Babies R’ Us and bought a package of onesies (I believe these are called growers across the Atlantic.)  We managed to make it one more stop (to Michaels for fabric paint) before Stella told us how she really felt about car travel.
The results?  A sleeping baby and an Oberon later: Emotional blackmail in its most familiar form.

*Note: Screen printing or stenciling on baby onesies: MUCH easier than hand painting!

J is for juggling

You know how some people wish that life was more like a musical, where everyone spontaneously bursts into song?  Ridiculous.  But what if life were more like a circus?  What would that be like?  Cotton candy being sold on street corners, elephants carrying people to work, and if you’re like me and imagining it more like the Cirque du Soleil, we would all be crazy flexible and would fly from building to building using flowing strips of fabric.  Imagine that.  But I’m pretty sure we all have an “inner circus clown” that we keep hidden.  Let’s let it out!

I have to give a shout out to Denyse Schmidt and her book “Quilts,” (http://www.dsquilts.com/paper_goods.asp) because she gives some pretty awesome instructions on how to make juggling bean-bags.  While I’m in this paragraph, I’ll tell a funny story about that (some of you might have already heard this in person this week, so you get to hear this thrilling story again!)  I was on the phone with my mom (who was on a quilt-teaching trip in Sisters, Oregon, this becomes relevant in a minute) and I was telling her how I was making juggling lentil-bags, and she said, “Oh how funny! Where did you get that idea? “ And I said that I had found this really cool book the other day in Berkeley by this woman Denyse Schmidt, and she said, “No way, I’m teaching with Denyse Schmidt right now in Sisters!”  Ha ha, small world.

But back to the project.  I decided to honor the letter “J” by machine appliqué-ing on each bag.  There’s three, so the first one, naturally, is for Juggling.  The second one goes for my sister, Jessi.  And the last one, for my favorite Spanglish word for “yes,” Jes. I chose my fabric for a double-sided, contrasting look:  Food on one side, fun on the other.  I even managed to sneak some more artichoke fabric in there!  The oranges can be in honor my former city of Valencia, and the cherries, for my home state of Meechigan.  But I have to say, my favorite part was making the paper cone and pouring in the lentils!  Strangely satisfying and addictive, sort of like watching sand in an hourglass.
But wait, the fun really came when I had finished production. I can’t remember when I “learned to juggle” (as I claimed earlier in the day yesterday), but it became pretty clear as I began to “try them out,” that I hadn’t really made a serious commitment to mastering it back in the 6th grade.  It’s a good thing I decided to seal the bags with a sturdy machine stitch instead of the recommended hand slip-stitch, because those bad boys were experiencing some major ground collisions.
On a scale of 1-10, this activity gets a 10 for fun.  An actual final product that you can play with, not just something that looks pretty and hangs on the wall.  Who knows, maybe now I will spontaneously burst out juggling from now on.  And, I am pretty sure it’s helping my hand-eye coordination.

Recommended juggling music- Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins, The Big Guns.  (and I dare you to juggle through the entire song.)
**Thanks to the ultimate crafter-nator, Suze C, for the alphabet tea towel shown above!