Garments

I guess I should probably tell you about the fact that I made a dress. And I wore it. And it needs straps. And I’m already crossing stuff off the list.

It’s just the smocked sundress from Heather Ross’s Weekend Sewing, and was so freaking easy I could die. Well, actually, it’s the grown up version, available for free here. It was long, and I felt kind of matronly in it, so I chopped about 16 inches off the bottom and feel much cuter in it now. I also made the medium size originally but then took it in to be the small size. I don’t know if I’d wear it, like, to the bar, unless that bar has a patio that leads to the lake where you can pull up your boat and order a beer without getting out, but it makes a very nice swimsuit cover up for occasions such as that. It would be a cute maternity dress too, if I ever thought about going that route. Which I likely won’t. Maybe in fabric that is more flowy, like a double gauze, the pouf that’s happening below the smocking wouldn’t be so pronounced. As much as I like strapless, the elastic gives it this tendency to want to slide down, so I’ll be putting straps on it. Sometime.

I also started the summer blouse from the book, got to the neck binding and got totally stuck. I need a garmet sewing rescue operation. I’ve ripped it out and am currently assessing my options. Does anyone have an easy way to explain how to do this? And frankly, I’m a little nervous about setting the sleeves. But I really want to wear this before the breezy, flowy summer days are gone. They’re going fast, people.

Just Right

I am a fish taco fan. So many people give me this look when I say that, like, ew, really? Fish tacos? But they don’t know. It may sound weird, but they are one of the best things to grace a plate. I used to make that same face, until I had one. It was at a little restaurant in Northern California, with my dad. I was there for my grandfather’s funeral, and we’d gone out to dinner one evening. They were made with some white, flaky fish, sauted in butter, on white corn tortillas, with salsa and thinly shredded cabbage. We talked about good things. It was heaven.

My favorite part about fish tacos is that they are always so different wherever I get them. Different fish, different cabbage slaw, different garnishes. Which is why if they are on the menu, I am always compelled to order them. My favorites in town are at Tex Tubbs, the blackened tilapia with vinegary red cabbage, a bit of creamy sauce and guacamole. But I’ll order ‘em anywhere if you got ‘em.

So when I meandered to Sprouted Kitchen a couple of weeks ago, after being Totally. Blown. Away. by the pretty pictures, seriously, even if the food didn’t sound good it would be worth visiting just for the photography, I made plans to make these fish tacos, and soon. This weekend turned out to be a good time. We got a slab of line caught halibut, unfortunately not local as suggested in the recipe, but still fairly sustainable. Man, I wish we lived where there was local seafood other than bluegill and northern. We grilled that baby, along with peach slices, and red peppers, blackening the skin. The sweet elements were so interesting, but made perfect sense in the end.

But the sauce. The sauce is astoundingly good. Stop you in your tracks good. So good that it took some willpower not to stand in front of my food processer and eat it straight from the bowl with a spoon. It’s so worth the pain and annoyance of cracking a half cup worth of shelled pistachios.

And eating these on the porch with Nate and another friend who shares my fish taco love was just right for a Sunday evening. Just right.

Those Sweet Summer Girls Will Dance Forever

Man. I used to not like summer. I mean, what the heck was I thinking? My favorite seasons were spring and fall, and I really do still love them, but the heat of summer didn’t do it for me. Even as a kid, when summer means no “work”, I still had other preferences for seasons.

These days, though, I am a summer girl. Or at least, moreso than before. I think it’s the color. There’s so much color. And I have found I just can’t function properly without color.

And there’s concerts. I’m still coming down from a weekend full of Dave Matthews, dreaming of the next time. And picnics. We had one at American Players Theater on Saturday with a couple of friends. We love to grill, but sometimes it’s just fun to eat cold chicken and cheese with crackers and wine as the day turns into evening. There’s something satisfying about sitting down and being able to eat without having to start a grill or prepare or cook.

I can’t believe that it’s almost August, though. That’s kind of mind boggling, isn’t it?

Chicken en Fuego

When my friend asked me if I could make her an illustration for her kickball team with a chicken riding a kickball with flames coming off of it, how on earth could I possibly refuse?

She really only needed a black and white drawing for some t-shirts, which I delivered to her, but I really wanted to finish it out with color. For my own posterity. And because it was fun. I drew the outline and some crosshatchy shading by hand with my trusty micron ink pen, scanned it and fleshed out the color in photoshop, adding some texture to the background and the flames. This has been sitting a few steps from finished on my computer for a few weeks now, and I needed to show the bugger off.

You Make My Heart Sing

Nate and I had sort of a spontaneous date night Monday night. We met at the bank to sign the refinance papers – finally! – that has been in the works for like, months, and afterward decided to go out for dinner at Brasserie V and to see Harry Potter. The dinner was lovely, the movie was alright, and the day itself was pretty great. I’d been resting up from some pretty hard playing all weekend, and it was a nice way to end the day.

Plus, before the movie we saw the trailer for Where The Wild Things Are, and it made me kind of teary, in such a good way. It felt kind of like Labyrinth, kind of not, with this air of uplifting hope and kid-dom and music by The Arcade Fire and handwritten type and it made me all excited and smiley. Like immediately upon seeing that monster shadow and knowing exactly what it was I was excited. Did you have this reaction? In fact, I’ve watched it again three times while writing this and I still feel that way.

Pushed

There were so many alternates I wanted to title this post. The Wilderness. Whitecaps on Poplar. Adventure Canoeing. That was one of my favorites, care of J. And more that I have since forgotten.

We spent 3 nights in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area and Wilderness earlier this month. I wouldn’t call myself the outdoorsiest girl in the world, but Nate convinced me last year that if I could handle a few days in the woods a mile from the car on the lake in Door County, I could handle dropping into the Boundary Waters. He’s been there a handful of times before, but this was my first experience.

We paddled in on Poplar Lake with friends J and C on Wednesday, and it was a beautiful day. Not too hot, pretty calm, sunny. We portaged twice, doused ourselves in bug spray after the first where we were swarmed by mosquitoes, finally settling into a campsite on Caribou Lake, two lakes into the BWCAW. We were shooting for Horseshoe Lake, one more portage away, but after traveling on foot and canoe for a couple of hours we were wanting to get settled.

We settled into it pretty quickly. I found myself surprised every time I would see other people out there. There certainly weren’t many, though. There were a few other occupied campsites on our lake, and every so often I would see another canoe out on the lake, someone passing through or out fishing. The only sound other than the birds and wind was the occasional jet 40,000 feet above us. And sometimes the whisper of someone’s voice across the lake. It was so quiet. And that’s a rule, they tell you not to yell. We joked that we’d get kicked out of the wilderness if we got too rowdy.

Over the following days, we did some fishing. Neither Nate nor I caught anything, although I hooked a big ol’ Northern, but lost it inches from Nate’s net. Oh well. J was the most persistent fisherman, and managed to nab 2 walleye and a good sized bass that we ate the last night we were there. And they were delicious. Nate and I saw a moose standing at the shore of the lake as we paddled one day, with her two calves. There were loons too, we saw a few, and heard many more. We drank coffee and a bit of wine that we packed in, ate fancy camping food, made many jokes about snacks and napping, laughed alot, got crabby, got sunburned even though I wore a ton of sunblock, finished a book, and I, for one, fell even more in love with these two friends of mine. I miss them terribly now, my day just doesn’t seem whole without them in it.

The whole experience was so relaxing and so challenging at the same time. We sat and looked at the lake a whole lot, settling into a comfort with each other that was so lovely. We battled mosquitoes that came in swarms, escaping them by paddling out in the lake during the day, but steeling ourselves for them when we had to walk into the woods to do dishes or brush teeth at dusk. Laying in the tent at night you could hear them, a steady whine just inches away, trying trying trying to get in. There was frustration as the fish refused to bite, and the bear bag that we hung just wasn’t in a good place, nor high enough, and we hoped that we wouldn’t have to find out if it would actually do its job. The wind blew, it rained a little bit, and the wind blew some more.

But the paddle out was the most challenging experience of the whole time. Harrowing, is more like it. We were pushed, literally, by mother nature, close to our breaking point. It was windy that morning. The mediumish lake that we’d camped on was a bit choppy as we paddled to the first portage. Liz Lake, small and narrow, was better. But as we emerged from the woods after the second portage, to larger Poplar Lake where we’d entered, we could see the whitecaps out past the little bay, and our hearts sank. This was going to be hard.

As we were gearing up to face the onslaught, a guy passed us on the portage. He was solo, just himself, his pack, a canoe, and some paddles. Not only am I so amazed that people can do the BW solo, but he was going out on that lake on his own. I wished him luck, and he replied, “It’s all in your attitude.”

When we turned that first corner, Nate and I were scared. I could hear it in his voice, which scared me even more. We weren’t pointed into the waves quite right, and hit those swells a bit broadside and rocked the canoe a few times. We really thought we might dump it. Luckily, we didn’t. We all stopped a few times in the leeward calm of islands and peninsulas to regroup and rest. What should have been a 45 minute paddle took us an hour and 45 minutes. I worried that at some point the granola bar and beef jerky that I’d eaten to fortify myself for the trip would run out and my energy would just be gone. But we kept paddling. And I kept reminding myself that it’s all in the attitude. Just keep paddling.

We made it, windburned, exhausted, but with all of our gear and ourselves dry and safe. And that relief, that joy, above all the fear and anger at the wind, felt so so good. We were pushed to the edge, but having conquered the challenges, especially that paddle out, made us feel so strong, and grateful. The trip was certainly a success, in more ways than I can count. They say something happens to you when you’re on your own in the wilderness. Now I know that that’s true.

You can see the whole set of photographs, not including film which isn’t yet developed, here.

Two by Two

I took a bunch of knitting out to the woods, but I only knit on anything during the car ride up to the north. I finished this scarf in the hotel the night before we camped. I started this thing forever ago. I only have one skein of the yarn, and started a scarf, then ripped it out, and then started this. I’d tell you what kind of yard it is, but I’ve been processing photos for awhile and that would require me to get up and search for the tag. And who knows where that might be?

It’s skinny, and short, knit in a knit 2 purl 2 pattern that alternates every two rows to create sort of a large seed stitch look. I think it’s cute, and I’m glad it’s done. I took it out camping with me, mostly just to take pictures of it, but I’m glad I did, because it got CHILLY out there!

Processing

I’m still processing over here, and fell into a last minute (sort of) brochure project that needs to be done asap, so I’m up to my eyes in stuff. But I wanted to stop in and say that I’ve been catching up on blogs in my free moments and have been seeing all sorts of summery food going on out there. I am having a serious craving for summer squash and corn now. And peach pie. That sounds awfully good right now. I haven’t been to the Farmer’s Market in a couple of weeks since I’ve been traveling, and I’m telling you, I miss it so much.

I hope you’re having a good week!

Collection

I’m back from the north wilderness, alive, and to my amazement, dry, and it’s going to take me a little bit to process the mountain of photos that I took and to even try to put into words what the experience was like.

In the meantime, I’ve aquired two additions to what is now officially a collection of cameras. I was so hoping that the pentax k1000 would come before we left so I could take it with me, but unfortunately it didn’t. It was waiting for me when we got back. I already love it. That click. And the simplicity. It didn’t come with a strap so I gave it the one I made a couple of weeks ago for the nikon film camera.

And my mom found her old 1951 German rangefinder that I’d asked her about. It’s a Balda Super Baldinette. And that’s about all I know about it. I took it to the woods with me, and am about halfway through the roll. This baby is hard to use, but so groovy. I can’t wait to see what the pictures are like, and if they are all blurry or not.

31

There’s fireworks and parades and red white and blue and I made cupcakes, pink ones, that don’t look so pink, but that taste of strawberries and summer, and I bought myself a kitchy vintage film camera for my birthday present.

We watched A Clockwork Orange the other night, so I can cross that off the list that apparently I never made. And I got over my fear of the library, started a giant tattoo, chopped my hair off and went on a road trip by my lonesome while I was 30 years old. So this time around, I’d like to make a list, my own list:

31 things to do before I turn 32

1. shoot with the K1000
2. go to Voodoo Doughnuts
3. drive from San Francisco to Seattle on the 101
4. sit by the ocean and marvel
5. make a dress and wear it in public Done!
6. knit a pair of socks
7. organize my graphic design inspiration
8. hang art in the guest room
9. find the perfect pie crust
10. sleep on the beach
11. pierce my nose
12. finish the sea sock
13. sleep under a homemade quilt
14. make a new friend
15. camp in the wilderness Done, BWCAW for 3 nights
16. walk through the doors of an ad or design agency
17. eat at Harvest
18. collaborate
19. frolick in the rain
20. twirl
21. visit a friend who lives in a far off land
22. spend an afternoon at the union terrace
23. mend a relationship
24. watch Full Metal Jacket
25. acquire a pair of rubber rain boots
26. go night swinging at the park
27. make a difficult pastry that I’ve never attempted
28. show my art and/or photography in public
29. get some film cross processed
30. go to a parade
31. wear a skirt or dress without a special occasion the special occasion may have been that I made a dress, and it was cute, and we were going to a beer drinking festival, but hey! I wore a dress! And it wasn’t a holiday!