I Am Living in the Present a Few Milliseconds More than Most People. Happy Fall!

At 5’2″, I may not be able to reach 75% of my kitchen cabinets without the aid of a stepstool, but apparently I am one millisecondal step (ha!) ahead of the rest of the world! (Also, this is a great article). Yes!

In other news, my mom learned the phrase “OMG.” She tried it out in an email but then totally ruined her questionable new street cred by asking, “Did you notice I know how to use OMG?”

And in other, even better news, I have gone part-time as a lawyer! This is the best news ever! I am going to devote the 6 hours a day that I used to spend still lawyering (I’m now doing 25 hours a week) to crafts! And you know, to being a real person again.

Slightly related, I will share with you the email thread among some of my LA dude friends (M, D & R) and me last week regarding the new M83 album:

M: New M83 out next week!

R: I predict D goes nuts for it and you guys proceed to engage in a furious two-man fwap session.

M: Too soon.

J (that’s me): Too soon since your last one? Still not over it?

M: You’ve changed seen you’re seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

So MEAN.

J: Nah, that’s just me trying retardedly to make dude-like jokes. Whenever I see the opportunity, I gotta try! [Ed. Note: So true! I didn’t have dude friends when I was younger and it is SO AWESOME to make dude jokes. I crack myself up and they are always AS STUPID as the one above!]

R: oh no.  you are quite skilled.  he’s right.  you’ve changed.

R (couple minutes later): Does anyone else really miss the nice jen?  man, she was so nice.

J: Now you are being mean!! You know I am totally freaking out that I crossed some sort of line now!!! I swear, I will never make a dude joke again. Probably. [Ed. Note: I was a little worried. At least for dramatic effect. (But also kind of really. But it is NOT DUDE-LIKE to admit you are, so I added the “probably.” It took me a long time to compose that email.)]

M: Ice water in your veins.  Black coal where your heart used to be.

They say this happens to a lot to people who go into arts & crafts.

D: And to people who live in SF.  NorCal makes you hard.

J: Ha, totally. It’s all the excellent coffee and local, organic produce. Makes you want to punch someone in the face.

D: F–king g-d damn super-high quality of life. [Ed. note: I inserted the hyphens.]

My friends are awesome.

Anyway, all this is to say, happy fall! And my fall is faster than yours because there is less distance to cover.

Ramekin Rebel

There are few dishes I’ve mastered.

– Pizza (Trader Joe’s pre-made crust, I heart you)
– Coq au vin
– Cheese straws and parmesean-stuffed dates wrapped in bacon

Other than than, I pretty much fly blind at every meal.

Tonight, I found Epicurious’ Scallops with Mushrooms in White Wine Sauce, which was awesome because it took care of some leftover stale french bread, parsley, sauvignon blanc (with some left to drink of course!) and parmesean from the party.

I started into this recipe like I do most (my fatal flaw as a cook) — without reading it the whole way through. And also without the right equipment (OK, another fatal flaw). Who has eight 2-oz. ramekins, I ask you, WHO?? I’m impressed I own ANY ramekins. I didn’t even know ramekins came in any size aside from the usual 6-oz. size. Again, WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE WHO HAVE THESE 2-OZ. RAMEKINS?

Hm. My incensement over these 2-oz. ramekin people — with what I imagine is like 8 kabillion cubic meters of storage space in their kitchens, and also probably some counterspace that isn’t occupied by either a) cat hair or b) drying dishes since those people probably also have a working dishwasher — has made me lose my train of thought.

Which is: yes, I have some fatal flaws, but DUDE, you fancypants ramekin Epicurians could help out in the instructional department. I have A LOT of questions.

For instance, “Cook mushrooms in 2 tablespoons butter.” Does this mean melt the butter first? Does it matter? “Then pour sauce back into pan and simmer, whisking, 1 minute.” Does this mean, pour sauce back into pan and wait until it simmers, then whisk for 1 minute? Or does this mean, pour sauce back into pan and somehow miraculously it should be simmering right away, and if it doesn’t because your stove sucks or maybe you accidentally burned a wooden spoon and had to turn the burner off to stop the acrid smell of scallop-juice infused wood from wafting through your apartment, what do you do then?

Anyway. Sometimes I love Epicurious. Sometimes I want to throw some kind of proletarian revolt.

For now, I’ll just have to be satisfied with a minor revolution: I cooked those scallops in 6-oz. ramekins, and it worked just fine, foodie fascists! Take that!

Procrastination, Experimentation

Apparently the best ways to beat the post-vacation blues is to continue to avoid any school responsibilities and explore new procrastination venues.

For instance, embroidery!

This is my first project — a soon-to-be-housewarming tea towel for my California-born-and-raised brother Jeff and his wife Jen, who are learning how to scrape Michigan ice off their windshields. I am using Jenny Hart’s Stitch-It Kit, which actually includes some kick-ass iron-patterns of SKULLS and PIRATE CRAP, but Jeff and Jen are saps, so they get flowers. Suckas!

Also, homemade vodka!

So easy! And such a cute gift for parties.

And Penny? I hate you and your damn Sodoku. Which I still can’t pronounce correctly, but this did not seem to discourage me from playing nineteen hundred and forty games yesterday. I am never having you over again. Until next weekend.

And finally, the worst idea I have ever had: letting Fred help me make the bed.

Hindsight Is Legally Blind

Saturday night I spent studying and puttering around. I rewarded myself for finishing 1/4 of my Copyright outline with some serious crafting.

First, I made Martha placecards for Thanksgiving:

Then, I made myself a wine box (on top o’ fridge), last year’s Christmas gift:

Then, I made some Pumpkin bread, still expensive but cheaper than Starbucks, and GOOD.

Finally, I made a bird’s nest, inspired by a Katie Brown episode, like, eons ago.

And you know? It is UGLY. It is less ugly than it appears in this photo because I fixed the big ole hole in the front and it will be even less ugly when The Boy returns and I can make him clip the scraggly wire I can’t reach, but it is still Ugly.

Part of this is because I didn’t have enough copper wire (tip to the occasional crafter: always blame your tools). Another bit of ugliness can be attributed to the fact I’m not tall enough to hang it properly.

And then of course there’s the help I get from Fred & Ethel.

The largest part of this Travesty of Grapevine, I blame on nostalgia.

Because you see, I made this damn thing once before, four years ago, for another holiday season. And I’d forgotten about what a pain in the ass it is to make. And about its sure-fire Love Connection with Ugly.

It’s like the time I went to Coachella. I came back from it complaining endlessly to poor Laurie about the heat and the crowds and the lines for the bathroom. I told her I was TOO DAMN OLD for that shiite.

And the next year?

Me: “Ooh, Laurie, The Cure is playing at this year’s Coachella. Wanna go?”

Laurie: “Uh, Jen. Remember last year? Do you remember how you told me you were too old for any venue where the line for the port-a-potties was 75 deep?”

Yeah.

So I now have this ugly thing hanging above my TV armoire. But I don’t care. It took me over an hour to make dammit, and it’s STAYING.

In fact, I’ll probably make it next year. But only because I’ll imbue its making with fond memories of the time my family will be spending with me next week.

And I say fond memories because, well, we could spend 3/4 of the weekend yelling at one another, but Thanksgiving 2007? I’ll be hankering for more.

From Martha to Fruit Flies in 2.3 Seconds

Wasn’t it just two days ago I was like a PARAGON of domestic perfection, minus the prison poncho and neighbor harassment?

Really! It was! Saturday my apartment was immaculate, my plants were watered, and I was preparing a picnic for 10 for a Hollywood Forever Cemetery screening of Dawn of the Dead. My kitchen was filled with the smells and sights of:

– prosciutto, melon and camembert-filled baguettes
– roasted vegetable and ricotta baguettes
– curried potato salad (which, btw, I amended by roasting the potatoes and adding raisins, yummy!)
– candied walnut and feta salad with blood orange vinaigrette

And I only burned myself twice! And only came to near-tears once!

And now? One paper due later and I’ve got a half-rusted baking sheet in my sink and there are fruit flies hovering which means that somewhere, some fruit or vegetable I can’t see is dying a slow, stinking death. AWESOME.

So, I surrender. I will never be Martha. Martha doesn’t cry. She certainly doesn’t allow fruit flies in her kitchen. I probably couldn’t even pull off Rachel Ray. Mostly because there is NOT ENOUGH COCAINE IN THE FREE WORLD to make me that perky.

It’s fine. I can accept that I’m no domestic goddess.

At least…

Until Thanksgiving, which I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT because I am making it this year! For my whole family! And Laurie and Amber! But I’m not going to get too ambitious. No. I can’t subject my family to my crazy machinations and self-induced stress implosions.

Now, where were those instructions for that grapevine chandelier I made a couple years ago?

I just hope at Thanksgiving my guests depart before the fruit flies arrive.

p.s. If you have any tried-and-true favorite T-giving recipes you want to tell me about, I would be ever so grateful! And so would my family!

Project Craftway

Inspired by the ever-lovin’ craftiness of the designers on Project Runway (tonight’s episode? fashion + figure skating = pure genius!), I thought I’d share a little craftiness of my own.

For Christmas, I gave a few of my loved ones their own person wine journal box. And paired it with a wine course book. My favorites — either The Wall Street Journal Guide to Wine, or even better, the Windows on the World Complete Wine Course.

Ah, yuppie gifts, so fun! The lovely Laurie, who has a mind like a steel trap, has already memorized half the contents of the WOW course, which will come in very handy in Paris! And I have not heard from Jeff & Jen, but the quality of Jeff’s blog posts (three buttocks, ahem) leads me to believe they have been imbibing some of the good stuff recently.

See the pic of the outside of the box above. And if you look carefully, you’ll see the tail of the elusive sasCATch, who only comes out to stalk my toes and to get his belly rubbed. Oh, and to poop.

Back to crafting. All you do is get a photo storage box — I got that one from Aaron Brothers in a nice faux leather finish.

Then you write in nice pen on the separator cards that come with the box — “Reds,” “Whites,” “Dessert,” “Sparkling,” etc.

Then, on 4″ x 6″ blank white index cards, you print out the labels, which I made in Photoshop my very own self.

You can save the bigger image (click on the small one above to get the big one) and make them yourself! Although note that depending on how your printer is set up, you may want to rotate the image to the right to print (I had to do that on mine).

Anyhoo, what better gift for the yuppies you love most in your life! An excuse for them to get their Boozley McDrinkerson on, AND it’s educational!

I’ll toast to that.

I’m a Wrappin’ Fool, Yo

Neeta and I at The Grove

You know how that second glass of wine somehow makes you believe you have tapped into a world of WISDOM and INSIGHT? Apparently one too many days in consumer-driven frenzy can make you believe you are The New Wrapping Czar. I thought I was channeling the spirit of Martha Stewart in my bedroom over the last couple days and I HAVE WRAPPED. Wrapped and wrapped and wrapped. Bizarre, hitherto unknown combinations of wrapping materials. I am The Iron Wrapper.

Behold:

Oh yes. There is a big pink gerber daisy on a present for my dad. He’s going to LOVE it! And those cute jingle bells on Penny’s present? Oh, they will be a nice, unabating accompaniment on the NINE-HOUR DRIVE up to Redding* tomorrow. Luckily Fred & Ethel will be so drugged they won’t hear the constant ringing of holiday cheer in the trunk.

Normally I am a crappy wrapper (wow, that’s a horrible sentiment divorced from present-giving context).

And it’s really a miracle I could wrap at all given all the help I had:

But something took a hold of me and all of a sudden I WAS ON WRAPPING FIRE.

And now my poor family and friends have to pay the price of my fervor. Ah, how I love to give!

*Or, The ‘Ding, as my sister calls it. Where I get no celll reception at the ‘rents. So e-mail is my lone connection to the real world for the next week, aside from trips into town for Starbucks or take-out or last-minute mall purchases. Really, though, sounds heavenly. Yay, vacation!

%*#@$ Finally!

OK, that Knittin’ and Other Krafty Krap category has been haunting me for what feels like YEARS, YEARS! And nothing. Because I have been working on the same freaking scarf since 1992. OK, since August, but you know what I mean. But! FINALLY!

Above is Katie’s (um, an Aries) birthday scarf, which she will most likely get as a Christmas present because I am po’.

And because Fred is responsible for much of the cat hair lovingly interweaved throughout, here is another pic.

Isn’t he GINORMOUS? I swear he as long as my leg.

In other scary news, here are some pics from Halloween, further evidence that I de-ho‘d my outfit. And before you ask, my Globo Gym partner there is a purely platonic one. And also before you ask, I have no idea why the photographer believed a shovel went with my construction worker outfit.

And in other knitting news, I finally met Carolyn! Who is just as funny and charming and pretty and girly as one might expect from her blog. And p.s. Carolyn, I owe you an e-mail but school has been kicking my butt. Over brunch her friend told us how she has been experiencing role reversal with her current beau — HIS unreturned phone calls, HIS fruitless attempts to smooth things over after emotional outbursts, etc. And HER immediate impulse to pull away. Seriously disturbing to understand how boys typically feel. Yikes!