Viewing posts for the category my favorite things
Tuesday, apr. 1, 2008 | 0 comments
Easter of last year, Washington Mutual (an evil, evil bank that PS: Ate up $700 of Marco’s dollars in its maddening and always hungry bureaucrazy) ran a “Free Range Checking” campaign (a glorious pun, I know, too bad and sad that they’re awful and wrong and you should never, ever bank there!) They celebrated this campaign as anyone with endless (and surely shadily obtained!) resources does: They plastered their windows with gigantic posters of hypnotically cute baby chickens.
My want-o-meter went deep into the red the very first second I saw that poster, oh! And then, upon closer inspection, I realized that the poster was mounted on the OUTSIDE of the window, and surreptitious picking revealed that it peeled away with unexpected ease! My internal needle soared into white-hotter realms of desire, and I started hatching great, Marco-alarming plans of visiting the bank in the (t)wee(t) hours of the night and robbing it of this, its most precious asset.
But before I could even purchase a ski mask, the campaign winds shifted, and (that rotten bank!) Washington Mutual started systematically removing the chickens from its branches. I came home and dejectedly delivered the news that the chickens had all but disappeared, and Marco clucked sympathetically.
But! The very next morning, luck lightning struck with astounding timeliness when Marco decided to stop at our local branch to deposit a check in the blue, pre-dawn hours before his frighteningly early work begins, and he caught the chicken-removal team just as they were putting up the next round of posters. After much hand-gesturing (the chicken-removal team spoke little English), Marco learned that the beautiful chicken poster had been crumpled into a big sticky ball and shoved into the trash. Sadness! However fears that the poster was balled beyond rescue proved unfounded when the poster softened in the warmth of the back of Marco’s truck and over the course of the day it unfolded all on its own, just like a pretty flower.
And now those gigantic chickens have a new lot in life: Now they must focus their Rasputin stare upon our naked bodies as we scrub our skins and hairs with foaming agents!
Wednesday, mar. 26, 2008 | 0 comments
To my dear mid-century amoeba-shaped Tamac dish collection,
Ever since I stumbled across you on eBay and snapped you up as my own, I've admired the way your curves and indentations fit into my hands with a rightness that borders on sensexual.
I must admit that I worried your spring-singing "Avocado" coloring (so much more cheerful than your "Frosty Pine" or "Frosty Fudge" (!) sisters) would look less than toothsome as a backdrop for actual food.
But in practice you are a canvas of inspiration, turning everything from brownies to spaghetti into pure art.
I also love that your line of plates, bowls, and creamer detours for something called a "BBQ cup," a shallow vessel perfectly proportioned for saucy dippables.
Yes, my pretty Tamacs, you were well worth the many hours it took to track all of you down, and even the hefty price of postage. And how glad I am that you wended your way from your Perry, Oklahoma birthplace all the way to my Oakland, California kitchen and heart!
Friday, mar. 9, 2007 | 0 comments
Continuing on this informal theme of profiling of some of my favorite “grab in case of fire” things, I present to you a sampling of my dad’s art, which is sprinkled throughout our apartment.
I have a couple of his vintage light-refraction sculptures, which he made in the 60s and 70s and which I just adore (despite the fact that the years he spent working with all those toxic plastics did a number on his internal organs, and he’s got the fifty-stitch scars to prove it, oof):
Recently my dad’s been getting really into nature-ful painting. A few weeks ago, he invited Marco and me to pick out some of our favorites, and both Marco and I immediately fell for this flock of cranes (and one errant pelican):
The bird painting is on the big side, like 2’x3’, and we’re still experimenting with finding the right spot in the house for it. Currently it’s hanging in our room, which feels a little odd, but I think it’s going to take a few more weeks before it becomes clear if it’s a good odd, or a bad odd. (What’s the feng shui ruling on bird paintings in the bedroom?)
And then there’s this little (it’s much smaller, maybe 8“x11”) ode to the colors of Marin, which is now hanging pretty in our foyer:
I feel so lucky to have these things hanging out in my house! Not only are they lovely in and of themselves, but they’re also this constant gentle reminder and extension of someone I love. Ditto my collection of paintings and crafts and books and jewelry and CDs created by all my talented friends, which I’ve threaded throughout my nestibule. It all just makes me feel plumped and patted and loved and just, yeah…lucky.
Saturday, feb. 24, 2007 | 0 comments
This week Annie and I went and gobbled artichoke things and wine and mountains of spaghetti at Emmy’s, and then we went back to her beautiful house (she has a painted forest in her bathroom!) and had more wine and too many Cadbury Mini Eggs, and we talked about bangs and fringes, kerning and leading, and abdominal surgeries. And oh, I had such a lovely time! And then I swapped one of my books for one of her amazing paintings, and it makes me so very happy!
As Annie pointed out, it looks kind of like it sprang from a box of fancy chocolates:
Marco is very pleased, and Marbles loves it, too:
In other news, another one of my Desperate Housewives recaps is now alive. Highlights include:
“Zana’s hair, it should be noted, looks resplendently nuts, with artful curls flipping up everywhere like he spent the morning in hot curlers. Hey Zana? Rachel from Friends called, and even she thinks you your hair is stuck in second gear. And it isn’t its day, or week, or month, or even its year.”
“Why oh why is Carlos confronting Zana in the bathroom? Oh, so that way he can get an eyeful of Zana’s gigantic cockadoodle. Once again, I am compelled to compare Desperate Housewives unfavorably to Rescue Me, which also featured a men’s-room confrontation, but on the (alas far superior) FX show, the argument ended with one of the men peeing all over his brother’s pants. Which is like a metaphor for men’s territoriality, except that it’s literal.”
“Huh, the Susan I know would have been on that ring box like white on a wedding dress.”
Wednesday, feb. 14, 2007 | 0 comments
A few months ago, I randomly discovered a piece of “twice-chewed beaverwood” on eBay (I’ll leave it up to you and your despicable imagination to come up with the search terms I used to get there, because now I actually can’t remember how I did it).
Obviously I was ultra intrigued by something, anything called “twice-chewed beaverwood,” so I clicked in to learn more. But there wasn’t more. That was it! Just a foot-long piece of wood, neatly gnawed by actual beavers at either end. A plain old log! And yet…wouldn’t it look nice up there on the mantle? You know, if ever I owned a mantle? And the price was so right: only $2! Sadly, the shipping was over $20, and ultimately I couldn’t see my way clear to spending twenty-something dollars on what was essentially just a block of wood, albeit fondled by beavers. Allegedly.
So I let the auction go, and went humming about my way. But Marco! He mentioned my discovery to some guys at work, and apparently one of them, a hunter, scoffed and said the forests of California are CRAMMED with twice-chewed beaverwood. So Marco asked him to bring a piece back for me. You know, for Valentine’s Day? And that’s exactly what he did:
It’s totally insane (Marco was laughing and laughing as he dragged it into the house): crumbly and muddy and HUGE…almost five feet long (forget putting it on the mantle, it IS a mantle), but there it is. My very my own piece of twice-chewed beaverwood!
Thank you, Marco! You sure are one awesome Valentine.