Friday, July 24, 2009

It's crazy, I know

It's crazy, I know, but we drove to California--and back--in one weekend.  One of these days it will become clear to you, as well as to myself, why I would do such a thing. But in the meantime, I just want to assure all of you that my screws are still in and we had a wonderful time, despite the 300 degree heat.



There's just something about a car ride, especially a long one.  Sitting, immobile, for 16 hours in a car with your significant other is a great way to gauge how much you still like one another.  And, no surprises here, we still like each other. A lot.

To the great detriment of my physical well-being, Joe and I are reveling in the little joys of being grown-ups lately. Like eating white-cheddar popcorn for breakfast and ice-cream for dinner; reading for 8 hours straight and doing no chores; and, when the mood strikes us, packing up a bag and heading to California for a few blazing hot hours of something different.


Judging from the stories I've heard lately from friends, we're not the only ones.  So here's to the spontaneity of summer! Three cheers for the joy of adulthood--with all its strange responsibilities and glorious freedoms.  Whether you're dreaming of Paris , heading for L.A., completely lost (but in a good way) , or celebrating a new romance --I'm raising my metaphorical glass to you.

I hope your summer is wet, hot, wild and wonderful. Or just pleasant, as mine is certainly shaping up to be.



Cheers everyone!

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Raindrops on roses

If there's one thing I've learned in Portland, its that I really like stuff .  I'm coming to terms with the fact that I will never be a minimalist, and no-one will ever describe my house as "clutter-free."

Its not that I'm a pack-rat. You won't ever find my spare bedroom full of canned food--like my neighbor Denise.  You might find it full of spare shoes--but that's called fashionable.

No, no. My love of stuff is different. Its purely non-functional. And it really only extends to the old and weathered.  Needless to say, it's this same love of stuff that led me to a job marketing old, weathered stuff. Literally .

What is it about stuff I love so much? Well, I guess its a lot of things. I love the stories. I really love the stories. And if i don't know the story--I like imagining one.  I also like the dirt and the chipping paint.  Expensive stuff turns me off as much as new stuff, which is why I prefer the things that cost me less than five dollars.

I've collected a lot of neat things over the years (with the help of others, of course) and I like to think of my home as a cozy little gallery for all of the things I love most.
      
It occurred to me yesterday that this would be a perfect place to share them with you, so that's what I'm preparing to do. I'm beginning a feature called: Favorite Things. Or: Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. I haven't made up my mind yet (suggestions are welcome).

I'm slowly realizing that this blog has always been dedicated to the little things, and this seems to fit right in.

So, without further ado:: Favorite Things: #1



Is it a miniature rocket? A spaceship? Those are great guesses. But no, this is a blender--AND a lamp. It's the newest addition to my collection of lamps, which means I now own 12 (obsessive?).  My friend and co-worker, Pete Heim, makes these every once in awhile, and when he told me about them I jokingly asked if I could commission one. But he was totally serious--and for those of you who have met him--you can probably guess how that conversation went.

He got this great old blender for free from this junk shop in Portland, stripped the paint and wired it up.  It was delivered to my desk yesterday morning and I couldn't be happier with it.  I can't believe I own a blender lamp. I'm smitten.

Incidentally, Pete used to be a junk shop owner in Chicago, which makes him something of an idol to me. Every wall in his house is covered in thrift shop artwork like I've never seen before. Even more amazing is his capacity to remember where everything came from and how it got there and who sold it to him and what they talked about, ad infinitum.  His brain is a treasure. I'm going to unlock it one of these days over a cold beer and I'm hoping he'll make me a big, secret map of portland with all the best dives marked in big stars.

Pete also happens to be responsible for this magical creation: a table made of lawn-mowers he retrieved from of our metal scrap bin.  What an inspiration.






Friday, July 3, 2009

His lady



My brother and his lady came to visit me last weekend.  Aren't they beautiful?