Origins

Oh, hi! It's spring here, kinda. And this year, I'm forgoing buying vegetable starts and growing ’em all from seeds.

It's not that huge of deal. But honestly, I've tried it before, with little success. There were bunk seeds that didn't sprout, there were mysterious silvery mildews, there were slugs that put a smack down on my spindly starts within seconds of me stuffing them into the garden beds. It was a bloodbath. 

This year will be different! ’Cause I'm really for real serious about trying—not half-assy like in year's past.

Yes, yes, I like the idea that I can walk out into my yard and forage for food there. But this year, in particular, I'm interested in getting to the beginning of things. How much closer to the beginning of food (which is the stuff of life, right?) can you get than this?

Here's what I'm growing this year: lettuce (spring mix), herbs (cilantro, dill, basil, arugula), kale, tomatoes (yellow pear, red cherry, red beefsteak heirloom), pattypan yellow squash, sugar snap peas, cucumbers.

Who's got knowledge they wanna drop on me about growing any of the above stuff in the Northwest?! I'm here and I'm listening.

New beginnings, et cetera.

Winter Voodoo

Phil, the groundhog, saw its shadow. Do you buy into Phil's voodoo? Because as predicted, snow dumped down onto Portland a few days later.

I like the way, when it snows in Portland, everyone is immediately wild with joy and never once doubts that it'll all be over in one to two days' time. It's brave, ya know? I like the way the house looks with said snow treatment—cute and old timey. And I like the way a snowy brightness streams in the windows all day, resulting in a light-splashed living room.

HOWEVER, was there ever anything uglier than a thaw? Wet brown snow banks, low-hanging gray skies, and rain on fields adorned with dog turds.

Everyone should know the happiness of dogs in the new snow. Life-affirming and shit.

Riding bikes in inappropriate conditions on streets not being used for anything else.

Still life with melted snowman and pee.

Warm/Safe

Last week, my furnace broke and the house was an icebox for 24 hours. On New Year's Eve morning, there was nothing to do but watch, cheek in palm, as a dude replaced the furnace igniter and then asked me for hundreds of dollars.

Aaaanyway, the whole thing rekindled my love for my wood stove—its steady warmth and friendly, flickering light—which precipitated a peculiar childhood memory: how Little Me used to crawl beneath our kitchen wood stove (like the one below) in the afternoons after ski class, curling up there beside the cats with a baggy full of Cheezits. If I hadn't peed my pants that day, I'd still be in my long underwear. If I had (too often!), I'd be in my blue velour sweat suit. Either way, it was fucking heaven under there. Womb like. The warmest place in the house.

Big Me would kill to have a cozy, safe place of this caliber to curl up now and then.

2014 To-Dos

  Be calm: Can I get my wasted-angst numbers down to almost zero? Despite life?

Rebuild my kitchen: Cut open. Tear down. Sand. Repaint. Install. Make new. Or at least a LITTLE more like the photo below.

Eat more vegetables: Got this cool cookbook from my mommy—a vegetable-based recipe for every single day of the year. Seasonal and stuff. No excuses now.

Portugal: As in, go there.

Good Hair

Let's all agree that I love Lefty because of his personality. But! I mean his hair, how good is his hair? It's at peak cuteness fresh out of a bath—all clean and glistening in the early morning sun.

"Look, if I loved you it was because of your hair. Now that you are without hair, I don't love you anymore."—Self Portrait with Cropped Hair, Frida Khalo