A Patch of Grass: June 2005

Thursday, June 30, 2005

On $83 and Billy Idol

All kinds of exciting things are planned for today. I am going to make us a roast in our new cast iron dutch oven, I am going to go buy an embroidery hoop, and I'm going to apply for a job-or freelance, or something. I've been contemplating setting a wedding date for May of 2006. It would have to be after MayDay, of course. We were even thinking that we could drive out to MN for May Day and caravan back with people who don't want to fly to Portland, but still want to come to our wedding. The small amount of research I have done so far on weddings is truly eye-opening and bizarre. All I have to say is that if you are ever thinking about it, start saving now.

Speaking of saving, I have been reading Personal Finance for Dummies and I would like to highly recommend it to ALL OF YOU. Its SO good and easy to read and SO SO SO SO important. For instance, if you saved $83 a month in a retirement account that earned 10% (which I think is about average-or amybe you have to look around for one like that) that would be $1000/yr. First, you pay less income tax because you aren't taxed on retirement savings, so that saves you money right there, but THEN, after 5 years, the $5000 you have put in is actually more like $9600 or something. After 20 years, its $44,000. That's HUGE! OKay, that said, let me say this one other thing, if you hope to ever retire you will need 65-85% of your current income. So, if you make $30,000/yr, and you want to retire at 66, you will need approx. $22,500/yr in retirement. For 20 years of retirement thats 450,000! Start putting it away yall! Anyway, get the book. Its very good. (And teaches you all about the stock market).

On Titles and Taking Notice

I didn't really say that F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote East of Eden did I? yarg! What I meant to say was This Side Of Paradise. I bet you weren't even looking. But just in case you were...

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

On Elephants and Books

July is my month. I know it.

Carls and Keegs left, but we had a rockin' time. I've decided that I am very jealous of Carly's awesome embroidery talents. She showed me how to embroider and now I want to add that to my list of 80 million crafts to do and love. That chick is gonna go far, I know it. When we went to the zoo we visited the lorikeets and two of them crawled on me. I was in bird heaven. But the elephant museum!!!!!!!! Oh my GOD!!! ….

Okay, so I was reading this book, Out of Africa – you may have heard of it-which is about this woman’s experience on a coffee farm in Africa. “If I have a dream of Africa, does Africa have a dream of me? Will the gravel on the drive remember the way my shadow fell across it…?” Okay, its not an exact quote, but I couldn’t find it in the book. Anyway, there is a section of the book about a young Kikuyu (the native people that live and work on the farm) named Kamante. He is different from other children in that he seems to know that he is soon to die and it has made him silent and grave. (He has a very large, oozing wound on his leg) Anyway, the author and Kamante form a special relationship after she insists that he let her help him and after her failed attempts takes him to the hospital where he heals. Okay, so it’s a very touching part of the book. There we were at the zoo, in the elephant museum, and I was looking at some Dali sketches of elephants and some other artists’ sketches of elephants and I looked at one of them and read the description. “Kamante” (I chuckle to myself at the name-look, it’s the same name as the boy in the book) Then I keep reading: (former house-boy for Karen Von Blixen, aka Isak Dinesen). I NEARLY POOPED MY PANTS! Once, I had been reading East of Eden by F. Scott Fitzgerald and it had talked about his time at Princeton a bunch. A month later I was at Princeton checking out the school and had the strange experience of thinking that I was walking in the same place that he had walked. It seemed a powerful experience at the time, but that was nothing compared to this. I have never in my whole life had a book come alive for me to that degree. It was amazing. I cried. (I’ve been doing that a lot lately, I think my hormone levels must be changing-getting older is weird).

The last couple of days have been gray which is poop-e cause it’s summer. My dad is coming this weekend and I think Peet should be here one of these days. Oh, oh, the sun is coming out! Whoo hoo.

for the birds

Kamante's elephants

Thursday, June 23, 2005

On Lawns and Lighter Fluid

okay, these are the last of them. The first one is my own design. I drew the second. Okay, technically speaking I drew all off them. But I like the first 2.

http://www.bigwhistlestudios.com/socks/W15.jpg
http://www.bigwhistlestudios.com/socks/W14.jpg
http://www.bigwhistlestudios.com/socks/W13.jpg
http://www.bigwhistlestudios.com/socks/W12.jpg

Anyway, so Carly and Keegs are supposed to be here in a couple days. Fun times ahead, especially if I can manage not to burn down the house with my BBQing attempts. For everyone who has sent stuff or written - thank you so much. we've enjoyed it very much. I am very behind in my "keeping in touch". Bad Ilona! There sure is a lot to do when you are unemployed. Really though! Its kinda aggravating.

Our downstairs neighbor, Ryan, waters the backyard lawn almost everyday.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

On Ninjas and Carrots

Monday, June 20, 2005

On Socks and "Current" Events

I feel like the world’s biggest dipshit. After applying for quite a few jobs I just noticed that my resume says that I “currently” work at Old Chicago in Minneapolis and that I am “currently” interning at Ai Minnesota. I could pull my hair out!

On a happy note: I am now designing socks. Actually, I am drawing out someone else’s ideas and putting them on a sock template to be sent to Korea to be made. Who knew? http://www.sockittomesocks.com/

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

On Death and Flying

Be ye warned.
If you are less than 1” in diameter.
If you possess wings.
If you make noise as you pass.
If you are in the same room as me.

I have a long, bright blue, all-powerful* plastic fly swatter and YOU WILL DIE!

count so far:
Wasps: 2
Regular Flies: 1, 1 in progress
Small Biting Flies: 1

*there is a small cut-out in my fly swatter in the shape of a fly. You might get lucky.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

On Strawberries and Lack of Money

Today I am feeling a bit low. Looking for a job is just not fun. I know this is not news. I feel like I am 85% networking like a mo-fo. The opportunities are few and far between and usually for really random stuff. I think Big Whistle Studios may have to open shop and do freelance. I know that may sound exciting, but it’s more scary than anything else.

On another note...I made strawberry salsa with the reddest strawberries I have ever seen. They were solid red all the way through. And sweet as can be. We are having fish tacos tonight. Tacos are one of the best foods ever invented.

I really miss my friends and I really miss my Daniel. This 40-hour workweek is for shit. Poop-E.

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

my lovely red worms

On My Love of Bathtubs

There I was...
nice summer morning, windows and doors open, sunlight spreading itself across the wood floor. Suddenly the air was filled and I had to rush to the window to poke my head out. There on the street below I spied a pair of long-white socks with little tassels thru the trees. Then a skirt, then I saw the tops of the bagpipes. THERE WAS A DUDE IN FULL PIPING-GARB PLAYING THE FRIGGIN' BAGPIPES ON MY STREET!!!! (shrug) Nothin'...he was just walking around in front of his house playing. Well, of course I cheered loud enough for him to hear when he finished his first set. Yes, first of many. He played for 2 or 3 hours. How much better could life get? Well, I'll tell ya. This glorious serenade was interrupted by my doorbell (which is somewhat obnoxious). When I got to the bottom of my stairs a precarious package sat before me. It was none other than my worms. My sweet red wigglers. I had to order these babies. I guess you can’t just go and buy worms at the store or nursery, or any freakin’ where for that matter. I eagerly opened the box to find a plastic tub with a bunch of little holes poked in it. The instructions said not to open it just to look at the worms. Like givin’ a kid a lollipop and telling him not to lick it. COME ON PEOPLE! I WANNA SEE MY WORMS! I imagined a tub of slimy red worms writing and wriggling and twisting around each other and damn it! I wanted to see it. Well, I resisted. First things first, I told myself. I got out the bin I made a couple weeks ago and emptied it. I had bought, along with the worms, some strange coconut “bedding” which arrived in the shape of a brick. I was to soak it and it would expand 9 times it size. Well, of course I thought (as I think about nearly everything), “I’ll just throw it in the bathtub”. I love my bathtub. I have almost always had good tubs. And if anything can be cleaned by throwing it in the tub, well, damn if that’s not the way I would do it. I dye fabric in the tub, give large plants a shower when they get dusty, I’ve done laundry and dishes in the tub. I throw Ringo in the tub all the time. I LOVE MY TUB! Today, however, I wished that “throw it in the tub” was not my first instinct, because it was not pretty. That coconut brick didn’t just expand. It expanded and fell apart. Instead of having a very large, wet brick, I had brown soup. I had to use a tea sieve to try to corral the millions of little tiny coconut pieces. Okay, so now the bedding is in the bin, along with a bunch of shredded newspaper and phone book pages. It turns out that our paper here, the Oregonian, uses soy-based ink (how very Portland of them, don’t you think?) Who knows, probably all newspapers do. Finally the moment came when I could unveil the worms. So I did. Nothing. Just a bunch of dirt. Grrrrrr. I dumped the bucket upside down on the bedding and lo’ and behold! there they were. A bunch of skinny red worms. Within minutes they had all disappeared down into the bedding. Tomorrow they will dine on their first veggie-scrap cocktail.

I love worms. And my tub.

And bagpipes.

Friday, June 03, 2005

On Whistling and Cooking Meat

In the early days of my youth I took quite a liking to whistling. Not my own, for I was without the knowledge or skill, but to other peoples'. It tickled me pink to see an old man walking down the street whistling to himself. What greater proof of the possibility of happiness exists? (Ice cream comes to mind, but I think that's more a cause of happiness than evidence.) Being pragmatic, I assumed that if I could whistle surely everyone would think I was happy also. I mean, I was happy, but now everyone would know it. So, I attempted to learn. I asked everyone, I tried to disseminate the mechanics while watching actors in movies, I even tried to read about. To no avail. No matter how pursed my lips were or what position my tongue was in, I simply couldn't whistle. What came out instead was a kind of pathetic wheeze completely lacking in any semblance of tune. I also can't snap my fingers, but if you've ever seen my fingers you may suspect, as I do, that they are simply inadequate in size or heft or bone-age to achieve the task. Anyway, at 18 I gave the whistling thing one last stab. I asked my boyfriend (who came from a whole family of talented whistlers) how to whistle. He explained and less than a minute later I was off. I'm not talking Beethoven, but I can indeed whistle. I won't try to explain what he told me, but let to suffice to say that my years of inferiority were simply a matter of someone explaining in a way that worked for me. More than ten years later, a very similar thing has happened. Three days ago I cooked steak that was edible. A simple thing, so I've been told. But for some reason, both Daniel and I have been heretofore incapable of cooking a decent slab of meat. Not that we haven't tried. I've even bought the most expensive cuts I can find, asked the butcher how to cook it, asked my mother AND my grandmother (both remarkably good cooks, and Jewish mothers (which pre-disposes them to knowing how to do just about anything). To make a long story shorter, I simply followed a recipe exactly. Voila! I can whistle and cook meat. I bet I could even do them at the same time if needed. I am very proud.

A Patch of Grass