Stop Touching Things

"Miss! you can't touch the artwork..."
"He means you, too, G-ma"

Monday, April 21, 2014

Twitter is like evesdropping on inside jokes

Because I refuse to admit that I can't keep up with "Kids These Days", I have signed up with the social media mega giant TWITTER. That was, oh, five years ago, and I can barely understand it.
I've got selfies down pat

I get the concept. I know how to post what I'M doing, I even get hashtags! #notaloser I get what they were meant for AND I get what they've become...

... so what's the deal? I can't follow a tweeter for sheet. If I was only following one person and was reading the feed constantly, I'd be golden, but that's not what happens. To me this is what happens:

@awesomeperson tweets: THIS! #ihatethis and leaves it at that and SIMULTATIOUSLY people are retweeting this, commenting on it, and also random non-related tweets are thrown in. AND THEN people start responding to the replies and then the original tweet is lost and there is no frame of reference to what anyone is saying #wtfjusthappened.

My eyes turn into the swirling depths of the twilight zone and the 'whooo oooo whooo' sound plays through my head and I think "I'm too old for this!" 

I imagine those scenes in movies where the lonely telepath stands in the middle of  a city plaza with crowds of people passing all around... hands over ears... getting all giggle and cry-y over all the random thoughts going through their head that they can't keep straight. That's how I feel trying to read a twitter feed.

So, like I said a bajillion times, "Twitter is like an inside joke that you are not apart of."  You laugh because everyone else is laughing. You get irate because everyone else is pissed. You get whatever is happening, but if you stopped for just 15 seconds you'd realize... you were just confused. I mean, that is, unless you're one of the before mentioned "KTD" who still have enough room on each brain cell to keep track of that shit. #mybrainistired

So, I've mastered the selfie, and figured out (for the most part) Facebook #dontgetmestartedongoogle+ and have become hilariously amused by hashtags, but I am going to leave it up the kids to tweet. In fact, I'm going to have my 11 year old nephew tweet for me and I'll show him how to master fast forwarding cassette tapes to get to that song you want. #toosophisticatedforthis

Sunday, August 25, 2013

I made a bed today!

I made my bed today.

That is pretty impressive in two ways. One I used to make my niece do it when she was 5... she thought it was riot! Now I just make her clean the litter boxes.

The second way is that what I'm really referring to is building a head and foot board for my king size mattress.   Back before I was completely grown up (about 3 years ago), I slept on a futon... for about 12 years. IT WAS A NICE ONE! really. it was.

The Point being, it had 'arms' that held all the bedding in. When I graduated to an adult mattress, I was flummoxed as to how to keep the dang bedspread from sliding off the end of the bed at night.  I got a dog and made her sleep on top of the bedspread to hold it down.   That worked pretty well... the cat moved around too much.

As I lay there at night,  I started to dream of bed frames. I had looked at the stores, but to no avail. They never had a King size one in stock, and though you could order one, they were usually $500 or more. Mostly more. I decided I wanted to make on from an old door. I had watched enough HGTV to know that if those yahoos on Design Star could do it... so could I!

Then we got rid of cable and started exclusively watching PBS (not 100% true, but close).  Doctor Who is awesome, but not really a interior design inspiration (except the looking bigger on the inside, part).  Then along came Pinterest and I was agog with ideas again. After trying some Pinterest disasters in the kitchen, I scaled back my expectations and reigned in my HGTV Yahoo ego. I asked my dad for help.

This summer my parents called me from a garage sale with one word: Doors.  I gathered my sister for design discussion and we went to take a look. They were not the doors I was I looking for.  HOWEVER, they were pretty cool. They were bifold sliding doors, solid wood. One set narrow (broom closet) and another set wide (bedroom closet). They had dark stain and were in good condition. $15.

My dad and I talked over breakfast and furiously drew on napkins. He schooled me a few times, and I insisted it would be fine on a few others. I bought extra parts and screws and brought the doors to my room where I discovered... the stain matched my other furniture perfectly. Not only that, the doors were the exact length needed for the width of the bed. This was going to be easy.

And it was! We put it together this weekend and the whole ensemble put me back a measly $50!
King size foot and head boards out of bi-fold doors... 
It was hard to get both the foot and the head board and show how much it matched my desk and dresser in one shot, but you get the idea.

Check one more thing off my list of things I said I was going to do and no one thought I really would.

Thursday, April 12, 2012


Bleepity bloop! Ima Nerd! Every time I say that my friend Mikey the Crooner says "oh yeah, that's nothin" and proceeds to out nerd me to such a staggering degree, that I run home crying looking for comfort in hipster elitism and elite foodie hips. He really is the biggest nerd I know and he proves it by rubbing it in all the time (SQL this beta nerd! I really hope that was an insult). Anyway. I'm feeling nerdy and... ermm, lazy, because I am attempting to blog from my phone. I'm doing this because I love space, technology, and doing things tucked in with a cozy blanket and pillow. I love my phone because it reminds me of Star Trek and living in the Space Age promised to us as children. No doubt it would be easier to type this on a laptop (do people even have desktops anymore), but this is way cooler, even though I don't know how to add a pic. I know that kids these days do this all the time, but I'm not really a kid, and plus I try to fix my spelling and grammar. I think that is really what makes me a nerd more than anything. Plus I'd rather do this than knit… So it turns out the future isn't to terrible for my generation. We get cool gadgets and Nerds and their ilk or strangely popular. Neither of which was true for me 20 years ago. Hail to the Space Age! Hail to Tang! (oh those things aren't around anymore? But the astronaughts drank it? No astronaughts anymore? Shit, I think we just hit Gen XYZ s future. Stupid grunge bands).

Thursday, February 16, 2012

What happened to the bran muffin?

Check out Chef Gaynols Bran Muffin Recipe
I remember the 1990s. Asymmetrical hair dos, flourescent green biker shorts, and biker caps worn askew. We were Fresh, like the prince of Bel Aire and when we felt like being healthy, we ate muffins That's right, muffins. Bran muffins to be exact. High in fiber, good for digestion, etc. the thing is, all that healthy mumbo jumbo ruined the bran muffin.

These days a muffin is an evil gluten sugar carbo bomb, not worthy of health food mention, and nary a bran muffin can be found. Have you ever had a bran muffin? A good one hot from the oven with butter melting into the crooks and crannys? One that is earthy and sweet with little bits of juicy sweet apple and raisins to surprise the palette with candy like glee? One that reminds you of the '90's, where you could get a bran muffin and not be looked at like you ordered the devil on a plate? I have.

Last month I came across a Perkins that still sold bran muffins and bought every single one they had left, and then when the waitress came and said she found more in the kitchen, I bought those too. I shared them with family and I got a migraine because they are made with evil wheat (which I have a "sensitivity too, must be because I'm an artist), but then my digestion was aided just like I remembered and all was good in the world.

Monday, January 2, 2012

Drinking Coffee since 1981

Check out this dudes landscapes made from coffee rings.
The G-Ma was a small town farming gal. There are stories of my grandparents sneaking across the border to Iowa to bring back Margerine in 10 lbs blocks. The dairy board had much influence in this state and margerine was illegal... but that's another post.  She served thick slices of tomato for lunch and coffee was always consumed hot and black.

When my sisters and I would visit, there was always the peculator going and the smell of coffee and cigarettes defined my childhood visits to Southern Minnesota.  She had the same coffee mugs my whole childhood. Thick brown mugs with tiny finger holes. These and two tiny white porcelain cups. Too large to be doll cups, and too finely made to be toys. Both these sets of mugs fascinated me during my childhood. The brown ones because of the thick glaze dripping from the the top. The feathery mixture of these mugs led me to start my own collection of Hull crockery.

Even more facinating were the tiny cups. To this day I do not know why she had these cups, or where she acquired them. My best guess is that they were espresso cups that she found a thrift store or garage sale. That in itself adds another layer of mystery. This was 'back in the day' people. What kind of farmers had espresso cups? They percolated their coffee for crying out loud... the worst possible way to make coffee.

If we pestered the G-ma enough, she would serve me or my sister or cousins what amounted to a 1/4 cup of bad midwestern coffee in these cups. My 6 year old brain could not figure out who would drink out of such small cups.

To this day I love coffee. Stong. Black. and in Small cups. 

Friday, October 7, 2011

The greatest revenge is to live well

That was my motto as I stuffed slurped down my coffee and refilled the trick or treat bag that I keep filled at the office every October... chocolate... dark chocolate... that I eat half of, by the end of the first week.

Maybe this sentiment was fueled by the soup I made last night. It was phenomenal. I made it up on the fly and I totally messed up a few things... but I fixed them, and, well, let's just say I was pleased. As I was standing in front of the stove, wiping up the mess, and putting the soup in containers to store (you know I'm having that soup for lunch today) I blurted out, "Cooking some good makes me so happy, especially when I pull it out of my butt." er, metaphorically speaking that is.  Then I was stunned for a minute as I was able to acknowledge happiness in my own kitchen. Happiness has been hard to find lately, but here it was with in easy reach. Today, I think I'm going to make french onion soup.

Here's to finding those happy moments, and holding on to them for a few moments before the rest of life distracts you. Live well, eat chocolate. Ride bike in your apron.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

I came for the music, I stayed for the food.

Find more picks at The Heavy Table...  By the way, can you spot me in the above montage?  
photos by 


A few weeks ago it was penciled into my calendar was Rock The Garden 2011.

Have you noticed the weather lately?  If it's not 1000° F out side, a great tidal wave of God's tears are flowing down the road, into your basement, and all over your hair and makeup?  But, I digress.

It was penciled in to my calendar to attend this event, and it took great pains (by Jolleen at least) to get tickets. We had gone a couple of years ago to see Andrew Bird (swoon) and hadn't been able to get tickets again until this year.  I had heard of the bands playing, but I wasn't really into any of them... maybe Neko Case a little, but that was more tied to a dating infatuation of even longer ago so I wouldn't be too bummed about not going, if the weather was bad, but not bored if it was good.

I started driving the 2.5 hours to Jo's  house that morning when about half way through it started to rain.  Ugh! Rain! Annoying.  I was crossing my fingers that the rain would be over with by the time the show started, I do not like being uncomfortable at concerts. 45 minutes later I was camped out in a Target along I 35 waiting for the downpour to ease up so I could see the road, and waiting to hear the announcement the show was cancelled.  As I wandered from aisle to aisle, I think "If this rain ever stops... it's going to be a mud pit"

Light. Bulb.

Then I ran over to the shoe section and searched through the Rain boots. They had a really cute pair in kids sizes that I just could not get my feet into (I tried. Twice).  So, I bought the least ugly adult sized pair and headed out the door. The rain had cut back a bit and was at least drivable. Radio announcer guy says "ROCK THE GARDEN: RAIN OR SHINE" Good thing I bought those boots...

When I get to Jo's, the rain I left behind 50 miles ago, caught up with me and arrived in Minneapolis. It was coming down so hard I could hardly open my car door.  When I could creep out, I zoomed into the house and just looked at Jo.  Are we really going to do this?  I mean I don't like being wet.  I'm not into the bands.  And it's a DELUGE. She was wringing her hands because she really wanted to go, and she could tell I did not want to be wet.

We discussed the options and it came down to Jo was really looking forward to going, AND we paid good money for those tickets.  We would go. Unless there was a tornado or lightning, and then we wouldn't stay long. We devised rain gear (ponchos for them, i brought a trench coat) and a battle plan.

I in my rain gear and the gals in their new boots
After Katy arrived and we discussed matters, we noticed that the rain was letting up a little. The other girls praised me for my footwear choice and wished for their own Rubber boots.  "Well," one of us said, "we still have time... let's run to Tar-shjay and see if they have any left!" So we did.  They had 5 pair, and luckily the gals found two that fit... and they all matched.  
The official Rain Boot of RTG 2011
When we got to the event, and the pattering of rain was barely noticed in the mud and mist. We noticed were all the rain boots from Target ended up that day, along with the ponchos. I made it a side project to take pictures of all the different rain boots people wore... unfortunately my camera battery died in the middle of it. The music was playing, and we couldn't really sit down since the ground was wet, so we went from food stand to food stand eating and drinking our way through the day.

The tacos were great, the falafel was amazing... and the ice cream... Hagen Daaz... Oh and I'm not ashamed to say I had a fantastic corn dog. I want to go back, but no so much for the music, but to get to those food stands I missed. 

Yeah, the music was good. There are a trillion and one blogs out there to tell you all about it (where do you think I found the picture of me and my friends in the montage?) and I'm sure Jo was disappointed that I get bored easily standing in a crowd staring at someone signing, but the highlight of my day wasn't the bands, or hipsters, or standing the mud with 5000 other idiots... It was the corndog. Or the ice cream.  Or the look on Jo's face when she tried something she liked.  Or the conversation with Katy on why we were taking another picture of what we were about to never see again... our dinner. 

I think that's one of things I love about food, I love the eating and the talking about it and the taking of pictures and then maybe learning how to make it and eating it again with different (or the same!) friends... Food, like music, is easily shared and easily accessible on many levels... but food holds my interest much longer, and even though it's technically rude, you can still talk to each other while your eating.