garden update

Beets!

Hops!

Peas on my genius trellis! (Twine and a curtain rod)

Spinach!

Jalapeno!

Kale!

Mustard greens!

Wear a damn helmet

Before I am chastised by the awesome hair set about my new Bike Helmet Evangelism, learn this: I was in a crash two weeks ago yesterday that woulda killed me had I not been wearing one. So wear a damn helmet. I've hashed and rehashed this story, so check it out elsewhere, please.

So the accident and the attendant Oxycodone haze explain the lack of posting, right? Yep. That and the garden taking over my whole life. Pictures at eleven.

Virus attack - don't click on links from me

Hi folks,

I got virused. Please don't click on any links from me for the time being.

Best,
Erica

Turbo!

Taken at a party with a phone. Quality pictures to come, eventually.

Enter Turbo

The Scene: A birthday party for a friend who answers to "Creepy"
The Time: About a beer into it
The Cast: Myself, my roommate, a couple buddies

Enter TURBO THE CAT, who looks like my mom's cat, if my mom's cat had been left outside for a couple months.

TURBO
Meooow!

ERICA
Well, hell-O! (Starts petting TURBO. TURBO immediately starts head-butting ERICA, and showing a desperate need for affection)

ROOMMATE
(coos at TURBO)

TURBO
(works her way onto our laps)

FRIEND WHOSE APARTMENT WE'RE AT
Take that cat! She's my neighbors, and he's going to abandon her. On account of his eviction and his laziness, you see.

ERICA AND ROOMMATE
Oh great heavens! We must adopt her!

TURBO (From ERICA'S arms)
purrrrr.

Once said friend confronts the cat's neglectful owner, Turbo is all ours. Turbo is a new name. Old Owner called her Macaroni. Unacceptable.

Also, I've been at work for more than 2.5 hours and just now noticed the box of doughnuts on my desk.

the verdant hills of north portland

I do love these tiny beet sprouts and their purple stems.

DINO KALE! RAAWWR! If only the leaves were dinosaur-shaped.

These peas are growing so quickly that I don't think I can afford to wait until the weekend to put up the trellis. Uh oh.

The chard is the only green in the self-watering containers that is still going strong. Perhaps we didn't trim the mesclun mix back enough (too much?), but they're bolting like banks from Bernanke. (Does that make sense? Topicality isn't my strong point these days. Bolting like hysterical tourists from Mexico?)

Hops! Mt. Hood variety. I biked them home and they've been reacting well to the transplant. A home-spun dry-hopping this fall? A girl can dream.

Remember when this strawberry was but three leaves and no flowers? They grow up so fast...

Garlic.

Pretty little spinach, row on row.

Arugula! Better, cheaper, pepperier than the store-bought stuff by a mile. Verily, by a hectare.

bikus

woodpeckers rattle
as dogwoods slink into bloom
how alive we are

wafts of hops and malt
as I pass widmer's mash tuns
a shame their beer sucks

In your face, Houston!

That's right, suckas. 107-103. In your collective face. Even you, Brooks, although I secretly hope you and Pretty Boy Roy will swap someday soon.

it's true

The greens taste better when you grow them yourself. These salads were picked about 30 minutes before dinner. Subsequently devoured with just a hint of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. The mesclun had a thickness and - dare I say it? - meatiness to it that I seldom encounter in salads. Our baby rainbow chard is downright sweet. Yum.

food not lawns!

Sugarless Update: Easter ain't easy without sugar. I allowed myself a little hit of celebratory dark chocolate, but have been otherwise confined to agave when sweetener is needed. This has been a great excuse to avoid the peanut M&Ms at work. I can be strong. Aiming to drastically reduce my intake of refined sugar has been a far more manageable goal than cutting it altogether, but I've still gone over a week without any at all. Again, major progress.

Garden Update: We kick ass. Here's the 7'x4' raised bed in the front yard. Contains (left to right) arugula, oregano, mesclun mix, bitty kale starts. (I had a dream about tupperware cloches for the little things - that will probably happen today.)


The backyard. Note the raised beds and tomato planters on either side of the door. Also note the buckets, which are the self-watering containers that I may have raved about recently.


Detail of the left side. Left to right: directly sown peas and spinach in the large bed, strawberries in the repurposed peach crate, empty bucket, lavender in a pot, future site of tomatoes. In the right bed (not shown), we've sown beets and will plant jalapenos and broccoli later.


We made this raised bed yesterday out of cinder blocks that our landlord had just abandoned in the backyard. Soon to house tomatoes and basil. It didn't take too long, and I think it looks rather awesome, especially since we had to build it up around the rosemary. Salvaged materials are beautiful.


Self-watering containers! There are holes in the upper bucket that allow water to wick into the soil and condense back into the lower bucket reservoir. Here's a better description of how they work.


Mesclun mix and rainbow chard are totally BFF with their SWCs.


Tomatoes and jalapenos. We have more seedlings than we know what to do with. The little blue house has experienced a bit of a population explosion.


We may need to start a CSA once all this gets rolling! We're not even done planting, and I haven't yet made the bean poles.

ETA: Forgotten link for SWCs

morning commute haiku

dumpster convention
oddly devoid of pigeons
but a good band name

morning commute chronicles: signs of.

There's a difference between year-round bike commuters and the fair weather variety, and it's not just the self-righteousness, although that's certainly the most strident feature of Portland's rainy cyclists. The faded raincoats and worn panniers belie the sunglasses and shorty-shorts. We've been eroded for months; our rust and mildew, resistant to scraping, is starting to dry and fall away with the sun. Our bikes stay clean longer, and look shinier and newer than the garage-protected sleeping beauties that took five months off. Looks of confusion - when did the Broadway Bridge get so crowded? why are there so many cruisers? I didn't know they made saddles that wide! It's like a surfboard! - pass over our faces (which, I'm certain, are slightly more aged due to weather-beating) on sunny days like the ones we're having now. Timid riders who have forgotten the fearlessness with which bikers can own the roads look askance at the bikers who juke in and around traffic with ease. The bike racks of Portland will soon be over capacity, so I'm enjoying this shoulder season with all the human signs of spring. Welcome back, prodigal bikers!

Sugarfree Day 4 again/Victory Garden 2009

It occurred to me when a friend offered me cookies sweetened with maple syrup, and as I considered agave-ing my oatmeal, that I should probably define this project as a No Refined Sugar situation. Cutting sweets entirely ain't gon' happen in a month for this girl; that would most definitely be a set-up for failure. That said, the above cookies (cashew butter crunch somethings) are badass, and I'll post the recipe once I make the suckers.

But back to not setting myself up to fail. Cutting refined sugar is manageable in some ways. I can at least identify which foods are likely to be sweetened with refined sugar or high fructose corn syrup. "Baked goods and anything processed" has been a pretty handy rule of thumb. Drinking a cup of mint tea or just a big glass of water have not been entirely satisfactory fixes, but they've worked well enough to get me through two three-day stretches without sugar.

Enough blah blah blah, though. Victory Garden 2009 is well on its way. I (with intermittant help from friends and girlfriend) built three raised beds. The tomato and kale seedlings are going to town on our kitchen table, and the peppers are starting to sprout. The starts (so far: oregano, lavender, strawblies, arugula and mesclun mix. to come: mustard greens, beets, collards, leeks, onions, potatoes, garlic, runner beans, basil, mint and cilantro) are hardening off in the glorious sunshine that we've been getting. The chard and salad greens in the self-watering containers are doing smashingly. I plan to make a vaguely propagandistic sign for the raised bed in the front (it's the big one - 7' x 4') about victory over economy, food not lawns, or something like that. Any suggestions on the text are welcome.

Pictures of the garden and seedlings and the rest of it to come. Really this time.

Sugarfree Day 4: Ink and Cookies

So I broke already. Three days without sugar is probably the longest I've ever gone, frankly, so I'm pleased about that. Break it down: I went to Icon Tattoo to see the raddest tattoo artist ever (she birdwatches, has chickens, wants to be my mom's valentine and makes puns WHILE TATTOOING) and got myself further inked. Sitting in that chair being needled for hours without dinner makes a girl thirsty, antsy and peckish; when all was said and done, I took the cookie I was offered without thinking twice. (They were wholesome, if it makes things any more forgivable.)

So I traded the integrity of my no-sugar pledge for some ink and a cookie. All told, I've got no regrets. I'm back on the sugar-free wagon, again at Day 1.

New foodsperiment: sugarless

Sweet tooth is beyond control, and girl's got to get a handle on it. So this month, I'm going sugar-free. Not only that, but as soon as this loaf of bread is gone, I'm cutting out refined flour as well. Operation Save The Teeth is effective today. Look out, fruit. Fresh, dried, whatevs. Ima destroy you.

Full disclosure: Cutting flour shouldn't be too hard, since the roomie is a gluten-free girl.
Further disclosure: The new ladyfriend doesn't do the sugar thing, so I've got a leg up there too, speaking of the peer pressure.

I'm already seriously hankering after some chocolate. This is going to be rough.

birdwatching tattoo 'ku

flicker on the wing
a white-rumped omen flying
low over dumpsters

(Tattoo appointment - of a northern flicker - is April 2.)

morning commute haiku

lying cold, alone
banana in the bike lane
forsaken breakfast

recent accomplishments

-Shamrock Run 8k - ran the whole way and finished, my only goals for the thing. Don't ask me what my time is. I have no idea.
-FINALLY returning my library books. No, this is major.
-Brewing two batches of beer within a week, with another to be brewed tomorrow.
-Made and mounted a hanging picture thing/bulletin board whatsit out of an old bicycle wheel. Damn right, it's not on my floor anymore!
-Purchased book club book #5, am 136/500ish pages through it. Haven't complained too much, either.
-Put in my last volunteer shift at the Outside In kitchen. Didn't cry upon leaving.
-Tweaked brakes on new bike. Adjusted seat on new bike. Fell in love with new bike.
-Cooked. (Polenta loaf, zucchini crust pizza with about a million different veggies on top, stock, and black bean soup, among other things.)
-Carried the whole delivery of cleaning supplies (read: many 5 gallon buckets of things like disinfectant and cases of god knows what other chemicals) up our flights of fun house stairs at work, to the surprise of the delivery dude.
-Called my Papa on his birthday.
-Started knitting a beanie for myself. With cables!

But alas, all of this feels inconsequential because it's only 11:40 and I am out of food. My lunch rations didn't cut it. Leftover polenta loaf has forsaken me, and lo, I am hungry.

morning commute chronicles, part 19

Me to a POWER RIDER of the first degree on a really fancy, decked-out bike, who was totally spaced out: "Hey Spandex Ballet! The light's green!" (Russell, I thought of you.)

Yuppie dude on Surly as he passes me: "On your left, bro."
Me as I pass him a couple minutes later on the bridge: "I'm not a bro. I have tits."

damn good no-bakes

1 c shredded coconut
1 c almonds
3/4 c (or so, I think I may have used more like 1 c) dates, pitted
1-2 inches peeled, grated ginger
1 tsp sea salt

Grind almonds and salt into a powder in a food processor. Comment on how much you love your food processor. Muse on how you may want to be buried with it, or wouldn't will it to just anyone at any rate. Add coconut and ginger and pulse until blended. Add dates one at a time, pulsing to a pastey, lumpy mixture. Form into whatever shape you please and refrigerate for at least an hour or two, although they're best after a day or longer. Makes a bunch. Devour with abandon.

le pre-season sigh.

The Cubs traded DeRosa. Johnson's handling the in-season blog, which is rad because I heart catchers, but... sigh. DeRosa had a very endearing online presence.

new bike brings catcalls
or maybe it's the haircut
either way, hot damn.

if you love it so much, why don't you blog about it?

NEW BIKE!
Sporting a Trek 370 frame, and all new, all fancy components (I'm most excited about the Shimano SX shifters (such a step up for little old me and my chunky Schwinn business) and the new wheelset. The bullhorns are taking me a minute to get used to, but so far, I heart this bike.

also, it snowed on me this morning hardcore.

New coworker

Meet Wanda Starling. She flew in through the hole in the ceiling and has yet to leave. I can only assume that my boss hired her to take care of the unseasonably early fly problem we've been having. So far, she just sits above the window sill looking nervous. She's still new, so I'll give her a couple days to open up.

Count it, anti-choicers!

Total slam dunk: The Obama team is going to repeal the asshattery known as the "conscience rule" - a tricksy little parting gift from the Bush administration that allows medical professionals to deny patients abortions on moral grounds. As far as I know, this moral decision could override medical necessity or the incidence of rape and/or incest. Once this rolls back, a doctor's personal beliefs cannot affect a woman's health or the difficult choices she must make.

I'm all about personal freedom and responsibility for one's choices. I'm all about being able to air beliefs publicly and to have those beliefs respected. For some medical professionals, the Conscience Rule was a godsend because it allowed them a legal recourse for a difficult personal and professional decision. I sincerely do not envy the pro-life doctor who is asked to perform an abortion, and I hope that someone who disagrees with me out there can say the same thing in some inverse way (maybe, "I don't envy the queer who gets told regularly that she's in the wrong bathroom"). That said, a decision about one's own body is not fundamentally a doctor's decision. A doctor advises and performs their job, but the patient must make their own medical decisions or have an agent or guardian make the decision for them. Doctors don't have the right or privilege to impose their will, generally speaking, and the Conscience Rule was thus unfathomable to me; that affords doctors an enormous amount of power and sets a precedent for all manner of co-opted medical decisions.*

HIPAA (the Health Information Portability and Accountability Act, for those who don't have the pleasure of dealing with it daily) gets a face lift, courtesy of the stimulus bill. Ultimately, the rules surrounding protection of health care information will be tightened up, and everything will be made electronic. This is great for protection of patients and efficiency, but it's going to be a short term pain. Pretty appropriate for the stimulus bill, which, if all things go as El Presidente says, will have much the same crunch effect.

*Obviously, there are many exceptions - ER medicine springs to mind - but I'm speaking of planned procedures here.

Utterly petrified about law school

JD to be, suckas!

That's right. I got into my first choice law school, Lewis and Clark. AND they're giving me a monster scholarship. HELL YES!

The Coastal City Badass

NPR nerd alert: http://michelenorrisfacts.com is the liberal elite answer to the Chuck Norris facts of yesteryear. Check it.

Today's theme seems to be nerdy obsessions. I'll try to come up with a hat trick. Birdwatching? Problems with keeping my glasses on my face? My athletic ineptitude? The possibilities are endless!

Confirming fears that don't pertain to Billy Crudup's naked body

Right, if you're not a Watchmen fan, just skip this one.

The leaked scene of The Watchmen film was rather disappointing, but will likely translate somewhat more flatteringly to the big screen. Yes, Malin Ackerman as Silk Spectre 2.0 was a hot-if-uninspired choice, but I'd rather see her navigate the Sally J/Doc Manhattan lines with grace and butcher the action scenes than vice-versa. This will be a sweet-looking, ahem, visually astounding film no matter what. It's the stuff between the explosions, the political messages, the subtext, the cinematography and editing, that will make this film either kick-ass or an overwhelming disappointment.

Honestly, I'd have rather seen it made into a mini-series. I'd steal cable for that.

Also, if you want to see the leaked scene, go through Blogtown, PDX. Worth it for their splash illustration.

Take that, Palin!

What does it say about my family that my mother sends me homemade granola for Valentine's Day? Buncha Alaskan hippies.

strangely timely, salon.

This little number very nearly inspired me to post 25 random (or at least non-connected) things about myself on Facebook. Read it - the article addresses the exhibitionism and poignancy of putting the personal on the internet. That's something I've sort of grappled with, since it feels like I need to justify my use of time and space on the blog. To that end, the few people who read this must care at least a little about what I have to say. So while I'm not about to throw out a number list, or even take Megs' very thoughtful idea of writing a sweet, short note to 25 people, I'ma talk about me. Unabashedly. Because I want to and because this crazy digital culture of ours allows it.

One thing that I take very seriously is keeping my engagements with friends and not turning down invitations. I've been on a streak of flaking out on people lately, and that makes me feel tremendously guilty. There's a mental list going of who I need to call and make plans with, of who I need to see first and foremost next time I hit Eugene, Seattle. Even if it's not a big deal to the other party, I can't help but take it to heart.

Being queer has shifted in meaning significantly for me. At this point, it's critical that I keep that face forward, that I not shy away from correcting people ("I'm not a sir", etc) or seeking out a queer community to call my own. Navigating queer/straight business has not been hard for me, not since I moved to Oregon. Since it's sunken in that I'm in a friendlier place, that it's okay to like the ladies, that that is what is natural to me, I can stop looking over my shoulder or feeling like the Man is about to vandalize my wheels or what have you. Alaska-wise, I got off easy, but finally starting to let go of the internalized ickiness is such a release.

Not to be all linked out (or to totally shill for Salon), but this article came on the heels of my snot rocket post. We're talking different fluids, but I'm all for more openness about the body. That said, I found it extraordinarily difficult to publish that last post on the grounds of Eww. It's funny how we can intellectualize things like that.

Although I like my job and think that I'm on a solid trajectory work-wise, I wish that I'd studied totally different things in college. Spanish, for starters, and biology. There were so many programs that I was too clueless to try, or too scared to fail because of big, scary math. So I read comic books and now that feels like something of a cop out. For that reason, I aim to take a Spanish class when I can afford it.

I hope my little brother knows just how important he is to me. These are the conversations that are hard to have.

Biking, boxing, and running help me enjoy my body more. I know full well that I'll be of the scrawny persuasion unless I pop out a baby, so I definitely enjoy feeling strong even though there's not a whole lot of meat to me.

Giving up meat has been fantastic. I haven't looked back.

I am a birdwatcher. Some people know this and some don't, because it's frankly rather nerdy and used to be somewhat embarrassing. If I could learn all the names of the plants and animals in the Northwest, I would.

Law school count so far: One acceptance (Temple), one rejection (Northwestern, shock of shocks), four no shows. I am not going to move to Philly, but it's nice to know that Temple thinks I'm worth it.

Cleaning my chain rings yesterday felt GREAT. Cleansing. Like taking a shower after a long plane ride or like some sort of spiritual rebirth. I took my chainguard off (finally) and it's never going back on. My poor bike needs more TLC than I give it. Her.

I want to make art again.

Dee 'sgusting

That was your warning.

I snot-rocketed so fantastically, the business-suited motorist next to me, with an astonished (perhaps admiring?) smile, mouthed, "WOW." As if to say, "That was an achievement. I will arrange for a plaque." People are strange, particularly when it comes to non-verbal commentary.

Verbal commentary, unfortunately has yielded crappier results of late. Biking mid-afternoon the other day, a guy in the passenger seat of what looked to be his 20-something son's car. He opened his window and shouted to me as they pulled away, nodding at the woman on a bike in front of me, "I wish I were riding a bike behind HER, too!" He threw in a lecherous grin for good measure. Initially stunned into stutters, I didn't want the woman (who didn't acknowledge this exchange at all, or at least didn't turn around) to interpret my silence as complicity, so I shouted "ASSHOLE!" at the parting car.

Something about the range of communication on the streets between cars and bikes intrigues me. It's intrinsically combative, I think, as both cyclists and motorists feel entitled to the road. But it's also a little bit intimate, as the commuter sphere is a personal space - think of all the things you do in your car, think of how it's your own traveling bubble. Most bikers I know have a certain biking face, a certain biking mentality they enter, which I think is comparable. I'm more apt to talk to a stranger when I'm biking than walking or grocery shopping or whatever. Still, the latter example shows that being revealing is a two-way street, if you'll pardon the pun/cliche.

new favorite food

Stir-fried tempeh with any green veggie (last night: kale and leftover steamed broccoli) over brown rice. The stir-fry sauce? A nearly holy trinity of tahini, Bragg's and hot sauce. Salt and pepper to taste, destroy.

Also, I just heard Obama say "...the last couple of years" (talking about Pakistan, I think) and I definitely heard "let's have a couple beers." Obama for drinking buddy! Yesh we can!

in the last 48 hours...

Blazers win! Rudy Fernandez's sweet reverse dunk was definitely a highlight, as were every single one of LaMarcus Aldridge's 25 points and 9 rebounds.

Iceland - perhaps because of their own economic hullabaloo, perhaps because they're AWESOME - elected its first lesbian prime minister. She was a union organizer, and the public seems to trust her, that she "actually cares about the people." Woo!

President Obama signed the Ledbetter Act. See the previous post for more on why this kicks ass.

Book club tonight. We read Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie, and I'm not crazy about it. Metafiction annoys me, and I guess I prefer a more spare style of prose because damn! The wordiness killed me.

I have now received confirmation that all of the law schools to which I've applied have complete copies of my applications. Great. Now I just get to sit in my puddle of anxiety (at least I hope that's anxiety) and wait.

For the record, I applied to Lewis and Clark, UW, UO, Berkeley, Temple and Northwestern. Northwestern was very prompt in rejecting me - fully anticipated that, and none too bothered.

Tonight, however, I will dissipate some of this tension with a Blazers game! They're playing the Charlotte Wildcats. Let me just say that I'm pretty well over the whole NBA musical mascots. New Orleans should be the Jazz (Utah?! Come ON), Charlotte should be the Hornets, and Utah can deal with the Wildcats or some other insanely generic mascot. Don't wreck my frame of reference, NBA. Also, I know Seattle's having some hard times, but letting Oklahoma City take the Sonics was just cold. Calling them the Thunder, even colder.

At any rate, I will continue to harbor my illicit straight crushes on LaMarcus Aldridge and Martell Webster. They're adorable, and I'm not apologizing.

Holla: Lilly Ledbetter

Today, the Senate passed (by an astonishing 61-36 margin) the Ledbetter Fair Pay Act, a landmark case in labor law. The holding is a little difficult to capture in a single sentence, but I'll try: Former employees seeking back pay as a result of a successful pay discrimination suit (race, gender, age, etc.) are now entitled to back pay starting up to two years prior to the alleged discriminatory act. Further, as the Library of Congress summary points out:

Amends the Age Discrimination in Employment Act of 1967 to declare that an unlawful practice occurs when a discriminatory compensation decision or other practice is adopted, when a person becomes subject to the decision or other practice, or when a person is affected by the decision or practice, including each time wages, benefits, or other compensation is paid.

This is really fundamental. No, really. Every time an employee gets a paycheck (or tips or what-have-you), it's a throw-back to Ledbetter. It's a legal check mark against a discriminating employer. Rather than look at the entire scope of an worker's employ, the courts must now look at each paycheck as a separate discriminatory act. This, rather than damages assigned as a blanket fix-it, seems like a more accurate dispensation of justice and a protective measure for those who do not get the pay they are owed.

Frankly, I'm stoked. Lilly Ledbetter campaigned and lobbied hard for two years to see this done. She was a plant manager at a Goodyear tire factory who realized way too late that she'd been getting crummy pay on account of her gender. Short version: legal loopholes stood between her and her back pay, so she took her fight to Congress. Props, LL.

troubling

I'm starting to like Excel.

Watching Out for Dykes (or: A Paean to Alison Bechdel)

Alison Bechdel blogs. I knew this, at least, I'd heard it from her very mouth at Wordstock '08, but until now I hadn't actually bothered to check it out. Naturally, her blog is as insightful, intelligent and rad as her comics. Check it:

[Lesbian author Jeanette] Winterson... talks about being identified as the “homosexual authoress” in her small village. “I suppose I should be writing racy novels in a tweed skirt and brogues, but then everybody else around here wears those.” This calls to mind my own experience of lesbian rustication here in New England, where everyone dresses like a butch dyke, even the gay men, which is sometimes confusing.

This statement also very aptly applies to Alaska, if you're lucky enough to be outside of Anchorage. Having been mistaken for a gay man (COME ON) in both urban and rural settings*, this little blurb reached out and grabbed me. The number of layers a gender-ambiguous person wears is, in my experience, directly proportionate to the incidence of incorrect pronoun/address usage (see also: don't call me "Bro"). Relatedly, I've been getting some interesting looks on the light rail when I bust out the Michelle Tea.

Back to Bechdel, though. Perhaps I've already gone on at great length about her interview in the Comics Journal #282, wherein she speaks to the satisfaction one can derive from chopping wood and her desire to do so naked (which happens to be her cover illustration for that same issue). The entire interview, which I re-read from time to time to validate my need to demonstrate my rather bitchin' vocabulary, is fantastic, but what stands out to me is how well she articulated the need to connect bodily to things outside one's head. One's head is a difficult place.

Anyway, Alison Bechdel is rad, and now her radness graces my RSS feed.

*and, most recently, been mistaken for a transguy on a plane. (I appreciate your coolness with that but again, COME ON. Also, don't ever inquire about the "hormone thing" EVER on a plane to anyone in any context. What compels people to speak sometimes?)

breakfast recipe

Coffee:
3 parts coffee that the roommate made half an hour to an hour before
1 part hot water to take the edge off the above

Add any one of the following

Granola bowl-a:
1 part granola
1 part yogurt or soy milk or fruit or tahini by accident (while looking for peanut butter)

Leftovers:
2 parts cooked rice from last night
1 part anything else
dash of bragg's, yumm sauce (if available), peanut butter by accident (while looking for tahini)

Sandwich on Stale Bread a la Pre-Caffeine:
Two slices stale bread
PB & J
-or-
cheese and hummus
-or-
cheese and that god damn tahini (pathetic leftover salad greens optional)

The Holy-Crap-I'm-Already-Late:
Handful of cashews
Piece of fruit hastily thrown in bag
Spoonful of yogurt followed by spoonful of jelly
Absolutely no tahini
Be sure to forget coffee. Curse loudly while running to catch public transit, as the bike is once again broken.

hangin' on the cusp

Last year, I:

-Lost a dog and finally stopped blaming myself for it
-Switched jobs and got a better picture of what I'd like my big girl career to look like in so doing
-Applied to law school (see above)
-Moved again and again hoped it would be the last time
-Spent 7 months+ as a vegetarian and a month of that as a vegan
-Took some sweet trips - Seattle, Montana, the Sierras, Puget Sound and Phoenix* - to see some of my nearest and dearest
-Rode my bike nearly every day
-Started my first garden
-Learned to knit
-Got back into counseling
-Came out as a birdwatcher (expect more bird blogging)
-Occasionally got laid and even dated someone for a bit
-Fell out with a good friend, made some good friends, wrote faraway friends
-Reasonably accomplished my 2008 theme of "be mindful" - resolutions are too constraining, maaaan...

Next year I'd like to:

-Keep up with the above, particularly the travel and hobby parts
-Attend all five weddings (!!) I've been invited to without using my credit card (much)
-Get back to Alaska at some point
-Start at Lewis and Clark or UW Law (fingers crossed!)
-Write folks
-Call folks
-start a spanish class
-Figure out excel - hate that shit
-Take up the themes "get organized and follow through" - those are hard.

Also:



*This is my cousin's baby, Lia Beatrice aka the Bean. She's the happiest baby and the folks at Trader Joe's in Phoenix agree.