Mother, may I?

one of my favorite little first graders, margot,  just told me,

if i could pick any mom in the whole world, i would pick you, miss molly

well, i said to her, YOUR mom is really, really pretty great...

 oh, well, she could be an aunt, she replied....


I always figured I'd have a lot of kids. Five, actually.  I think the number 5 stuck with me because I have four brothers and sisters and being one of five is one of the best parts of my life.  I've always been happiest when I'm with my family. At a party, I feel stronger with my sisters and brothers there. I'm proud to walk into a gathering with this crew. I'm proud of how my siblings make people feel alive. I think, in a very large part, we owe it to our two awesome parents. I'm one of those people that thinks alot of what we are, both good and bad, we owe to the people who raised us.

From the moment I met RK I thought 'damn, we'd make good parents. we'd make those kind of parents other kids wanted as their parents. those all-around parents that are just being themselves cuz they like each other so much and they're digging on you being your own person and they still like going to beastie boys concerts at the hollywood bowl and they're cool but have good boundaries that i won't totally appreciate until waaaaaay later....'. You know, I went there. I've always wanted to carry and raise a bunch of little kids.

So, it seems inevitable that I envisioned living out this life with my husband and this large brood doing all the fabulous things my family did. We'd go camping and canoeing A LOT. We'd stop at every river along the road and look for fools gold. On the way home from a long day at the beach, we'd do chinese-fire-drills at every stoplight.  We'd hike into canyons and climb trees and go skiing in the winter.  We'd throw crazy parties & wear costumes for any occasion: valentines day, st patricks day, halloween.  I'd make my mom's infamous sugar cookies stamped in the current holiday shape.  We'd own a VW van.

As fate would have it, I don't think we'll be birthing our own.  And, other than family, friends and first graders, I don't know that we'll ever have kids in our day to day lives.  It's a little strange to accept.  And, as it turned out, it was a loooooooong, strange acceptance.  But acceptance it seems to be.

Though sometimes I don't know if comments like margot's keep me sane or quietly break my heart.

 

i see, you don't doooo things that way that weeee doooo

I went to put a baked potato in the oven and found myself stabbing it repeatedly with a fork.  I started cracking up and wondering, as I almost missed the delicate web of skin between my thumb and forefinger, does everyone do this precarious food preparation for a really good baked potato? *  It then occurred to me that most everything I do in the kitchen is because I learned it from my mother. 
I love that. 
And I love knowing that most everything she does in the kitchen, is because her mother taught her that way.

The list, of course,  includes millions of things,
--the way I store certain foods:  I don't put butter, ketchup or syrup in the cupboard, I also don't mind milk past it's 'due date', I hate peanut butter from the fridge, and dressed lettuce is one of the very few things I'll throw out after a dinner.  Millions of little glass jars with a few olives, a tiny bit of sauce, or a few slices of orange line the short shelves of our refrigerator.  Leftovers, a belief system.

-the way I wash and dry lettuce or pop popcorn for the movies, pack cookies and fill a thermos, believing its better to bring your own movie food

I also love that fact that more and more of my dishes and kitchen appliances are actually hand me downs from, not just my mother, but my mother's mother.  I use my grandmothers garlic press!  Many who have cooked at my house have a nice chuckle over this little old press.  I'm actually used to it.  I take a great pride in my vintage kitchen tools.  Someone laughed at my salad spinner because it has a string you pull like a toy top.  And when we had a movie night at our house & I pulled out our popcorn popper, a friend mentioned that the only thing missing is the little butter cup that used to rest in the back of the machine.  Yeah, it's old school and it still works and you don't just get rid of  things if they still work. 

My mother calls it my 'farm mentality'-- I get it from her.  Again, another point of pride for me.  I don't think I would ever have thought of it, but it's been pointed out enough times that I'm actually glad for it.  It makes me feel even closer to my mom and to my grandma, who's passed away.  I love the idea of one's history, a simple history of the way you do things in the kitchen, being passed down to the next generation. 

*i have since looked up the baking of a baked potato and, apparently, this barbaric habit is recommended

Sing Like Nobody's Listening

I don't believe anyone that tells me they don't sing.  At All.  Not even in the shower?!
Nope, sorry, I don't believe it.
EVERYONE sings.
(personally, i think i hit my best notes in the shower, but washing-dishes-singing takes a close second)
You're walking down the street, humming a tune that, by the time you turn the key in your front door, is a full blown song you're singing under your breath,
until, you get just inside your living room and you belt out the final line.

If it's not that, it's while you work, or while you play, or while you're cleaning house, or while you're riding your bike.  It's okay, we all do it.

My aspirations for singing have gone a little further than the shower, I'm not too proud to admit it.  I've always wanted (deep down inside) to be a singer.  What kind of singer has run the gamut:  country band, background vocals for The Cure, soloist, harmonizing with John Denver, torch singer laying across the top of a piano.  You name it, I would sign up for it.   I've sung at a wedding, I've sung backup on a friends' records, I sang at my High School graduation, and as the above photo is my proof, I've just recently sung 'boy named sue' at a packed-house karaoke club.

And then, when I saw this video, I was reminded that singing in a wide-open-acoustical forest with your sister is really some of the best singing out-loud that there is.



video find thanks to a fellow blogger

identity in others

First, you answer these 12 questions,

01. What is your first name? (molly)
02. What is your favorite food? (corn on the cob)
03. What high school did you attend? (pvhs)
04. What is your favorite color? (celadon)
05. Who is your celebrity crush? (jimmy stewart)
06. Favorite drink? (milk)
07. Dream vacation? (greece)
08. Favorite dessert? (ginger snaps)
09. What do you want to be when you grow up? (totally confident)
10. What do you love most in life? (family)
11. One word to describe you (wacky)
12. Your Flickr name (mollshot)

Then, you build a mosaic by typing your answers, one by one, into Flickr's search function. You choose one photo for each of your answers, and you can only use images that appear on the first page of  your search results.  Time consuming? Yes.   Kinda fun when it's finished? Yes.

1. morning stretches; molly, day 63, 2. Mmmmm, Corn, 3. joe, 4. Egg Love, 5. Jimmy Stewart & Family II, 6. Pure Milk, 7. OIA, handmade houses, 8. 054 | C is for Cookeh, 9. these girls have strength, 10. Let's ice skate to the sunset horizon, 11. my Momoko Family12. There was no photo for my flickr name

irst


irl

at the

arty

First Girl at the Party has a new posting:  Kaari & Jon.  It's a 'home away from home' for me & RK.

We spend many a good time at this abode.

Kaari & Jon have a new book out that is like a family album.

Nearly the entire family went to work for this one:  We were runners and designers, models and chefs, we drank coffee, we drank wine, and we finished it all off with a huge outdoor fête into the night.

In so many ways, that book is just a little peek into life with Kaari & Jon and their entertaining ways.

ps: she's got another book coming out very soon that we had a lot of fun digging for...

Erik Otto has been down in the Dump

Erik Otto used to have a studio next door to me in the Mission.  I own one piece of his work and now dream of the day when I can afford to own more.  Not long after he moved in, he moved out and he moved on and he's done nothing but rise in his success since then.  It's been beautiful to watch from afar.  Those of us at the old studio who knew him for one hot minute get a bit giddy around him.  His always super nice, super down-to-earth attitude and his ability to articulate where his head is at regarding, not only his art, but the Artist-in-Residency program as a whole is such a pleasure in the art world.

He's just finished, what many of us consider a real 'get' of a gig, working from the dump.  It's a coveted, application-only spot for a very short amount of time.   It's 24-7 access to the immense amount of stuff that people throw away on a daily basis.

It was a 'challenge' he said, in a lot of ways-- one of the main ones was realizing just what that amount is that we're all throwing away.  Once you come to grips with that, then realizing what you can use, what you have to let go.... if you're a hoarder, or a junkie for junk, a flea market lover, a garage sale haunter, a dumpster diver, a collector of any sort, you'll relate to this feeling.  Sure, it would be hard for me, but I'm always up for a challenge.  It would be a challenge you'd learn to love because you'd discover a lot of other things.  A garage sale is usually one family's miscellany. The dump is the city's repository of thousands of people's stuff: good, bad, unused, unopened, crushed, wet, beautiful stuff.

I started dreaming about getting a spot there a couple years after we moved to San Francisco.  Then about six months ago, a guy named Michael walked into my little studio and said, you should think about the dump.

I've been thinking about it non-stop since then.

Recology's Statement:

The goal of the Artist In Residence Program at Recology San Francisco is to use art to inspire people to recycle more and conserve natural resources. The company provides selected local artists with the opportunity to create art using materials they gather from San Francisco's refuse. This includes 24-hour access to a well-equipped studio, a monthly stipend, and an exhibit at the end of their residency, but artists seem most excited about having 24-hour access to the materials. 

Now, that's a dream come true.

Talking to Erik today and hearing about the depth of the program & the depths that it took him to, I was so inspired!  I walked away wanting it even more than before.

More photos of Erik Otto's AIR at Recology

you got questions, i got answers

Every week in the first grade, we brainstorm sounds.  We make a chart and try to come up with as many words as possible.  I say "we" try to come up with them because really Miss P. and I are doing half the work and having most the fun.  When the kids seem at a blank for another  bŭ-  word:   They've given us bubble, bump, bunny, and bumble bee and I'll jump in with okay, what about a type of pan that you bake a cake in?...you know it's bu-bu-bu  and then Paula jumps in with  yeah, that's right, it's a pan or tray or some people say it's a type of cake?...you know, it's bu-bu-bu
and finally, with all their empty-eyed staring at us, or guess-out-loud-yelling: "BAKING PAN!", "CAKE!", "CAKE PAN!","Bŭ-TRAY!"  We usually then share a moment of i guess that mighta been a tough one while the kids sit there wondering why we're cracking each other up over the word "bundt".  They'd never heard it before.

This week was the sound "da" as in:  dance, dangle, dad, dandruff.
Two of our more curious boys sat at the this particular work station during Language Arts and one of them asked me why they couldn't use the word "damnit", because that worked too.

D: and it was up there before but Miss P. crossed it out 'cuz she said it was a swear word

ME:  well, it is a swear word

O: (perfectly innocent O.) you mean like the word 'stupid'?

ME: no, worse than that

D: you mean like the word 'fat'?

ME: no

O: you mean like the word 'idiot'?

ME: worse than that, and D, 'fat' isn't actually a swear word

D: yes it is, like if you call someone 'fat'

ME:  well, 'fat' is an insult, 'damnit' is a straight-up swear word


O: you mean like 'fuck'?

ME:  yes, O, just like that

That cleared it all up!

doubt has never looked so sweet.  so innocent.  so rendering of something beautiful, rather than something scary.

i have lots and lots of stories, ideas, thoughts

half written, sorta begun,

pretty much thought through,

and they all sit, waiting in draft, wondering where i am.

i lament this 'wasted' time and wonder what's holding me back.

i read other people's nuggets of knowledge, funny stories,

or wondrous adventures

and think how inspiring it is to read.

i then feel inspired to write, so where does it go?

i don't know what it is but every time i sit down to write, i let something distract me,

take me away, lead me astray.

it could be a good book, a phone call that has to be made,

a letter that has to be written.

tonight, it's the continuation of Twin Peaks.

RK and i have rented the entire first season.

i do plan to overcome this  doubt

get back to blogging as usual and

stop worrying about it already.

but, when?

What's in the water but rain?

My parents told me LA was expected to get hit by a flood of biblical proportions.
Where'd you hear that craziness? I asked.
We read it in the LA Times!, they laughed, but my mom did say they were thinking of building an Ark.

I suppose we have gotten quite a bit of rain in a short amount of time.  Though "biblical" may be a bit off the mark, on my way to work this morn,  I had to walk around what appeared to be a mini swimming pool at the edge of Dolores Park.  The fire hydrant was only half visible.  Obviously the drains had gotten backed up in all the rain...  Maybe RK and I should look into some sturdy 2 by 4's ourselves...

In December, when the weather in Southern California was still gorgeous, my siblings and our spouses all took long walks on the cliffs. One day, in particular, there was quite a bit of commotion over the wales swimming by. They would blow their water spout and a big gush of human Ohhhhhhh!'s would be heard over the whole of the cliffside. Though I grew up with this wale watching, it still seemed like a bit of miracle to imagine these huge beauties out there, just out of reach.

because this looks like something i would do...

I love this--I don't even actually know what it is and I still love it.

With all the uncertainty in life, it seemed like a really good, strong directive.

I don't know what RK and I will be doing this time next year, or even what city we'll be living in.

But I hope we'll be doing what it takes to get it done and get it done well.

to see the entire list

via RL

You Won't Even Miss It

The Jolie-Pitt Foundation is contributing $1 million to Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontiéres, whose three hospitals in Port-au-Prince were severely damaged.

Okay, so I can't donate a million dollars, but it sure did feel good to send a little help to Haiti. If you haven't done so yet...

Mercy Corps
Doctors without Borders
Project Hope
Red Cross
Unicef
Clinton Foundation

Fuse

 oh miranda, miranda, miranda

i can't read enough about you, from you

 

and then Regina came along and added one more dimension to my inspiration

oh, to write like that!

oh, to sing like that!

ah, but to dream...

 

Dallas Clayton has created a "very awesome world".  
He wrote it for his son.  And while I think it's perfect for my 1st graders, it was great to read as a 'can I really achieve all I dream about' adult.

I love day dreaming.  I love thinking that something just might happen, but it could totally not happen, too.  It's everything, always, on the edge.

I'm working on this with all different situations.  I figure, people that walk into every situation thinking they know the outcome, well, they're usually of the the-world-vs-me-attitude & that's rough to get through life with.  I know because I've tried it.  But, with day dreaming, you never have to walk into a situation with that dread of, 'ohman, i know how this is gonna go!'  Maybe it'll go one way, maybe it'll go the other.


It's why the sleep-kind-of-dreaming is soooooo much fun:  Flying, talking to animals, riding rollercoasters through new york city... whatever your thing.   RK and I often wake up saying to each other, 'man, my dreams were realistic/trippy/intense/weird/wild.'  And, depending on the ability to do it any justice in an early morning explanation (or just moving it on into your day dreaming) will decide if we say anymore.

The Future of Yesterday

It's been incredibly difficult and insightful and strange cleaning out/up/in the apartment. Cleaning out our clothes closet has been tough. Now I'm on to paper files, and books and journals and calenders from years past. But, it started with the clothes.

Me, to my own head:
Well, I can't get rid of that. That little piece of fabric we once called a shirt, that little thing holds a TON of memories for me. And, no, no I can't get rid of those jeans. I wore those on the very first date I had with RK.

It's a weird trail down your past. It all takes you back to a moment in time.
And it's not just about my clothes. It's his, too.

Me:
No, no, no, dude, you can't get rid of that tshirt!

RK:
um, why not? it's got holes, it's totally worn thin, i'm not gonna wear it anymore, it's seen it's day.

Me:
yeah, but that t-shirt...you used to wear that t-shirt all the time when we first dated!

In the opposite way one might think, I'm truly detached from some things and absolutely, down-right ridiculously sappy about others.  It's weird. 

So, now I'm in the other closet and doing the paper version of a past life.
Damn, between the two of us, we must have thousands of photos, a ton of music, a die-hard amount of vintage cameras, turquoise pottery, journals for each year of our lives, a flurry of watches, a stack of wallets, an aray of notebooks (both filled and empty)-- a lot, a lot of stuff.  That comprises a lot, a lot of memories both fresh and far. 

It's been a kick.  Though this project has been going on for months, just last night we did the mid-relationship-review of the photo-books of our high school youth- into -freshman year of college:  Always a good laugh, for both parties.

Stuff:  It's got a funny sentimentality.

irst Girl At The Party has a new post: Lucy & Brian.




I love Hollywood. Especially, the Hollywood Hills. So, when we all piled into the car on New Years Day and headed up into the hills, keeping our eye on the Hollywood sign that went in and out of view, having near misses with each car that was coming down the one-lane roads, it was a thrill to finally land at Lucy & Brian's apartment.

It's also been SO great to have an excuse to shoot people's homes!

My Own Two Feet

While living in NY, I walked everywhere.  When I first got there, I often took the subway, but soon enough realized that walking is what really gets you somewhere.  It almost always gets you something, as well.  I gained new friendship, gathered new goodies, and rarely met a sidewalk-discarded-something-or-other I didn't pick up and take home.

I never had a car, I never longed for a car, I never needed a car.  There wasn't any other place to go, why would I need a car to get there?

When we moved to SF, everyone said it was a car-kind-of-town.  Since we had planned to drive across country, it seemed a perfect marriage of new place + used car = new life.  After 2 years of tickets, parking frustrations, and a one-time towing, the car had seen it's day (the breakdown on the freeway--the car's, then mine-- might have been the actual straw that broke the camels back).  We donated it that summer and never looked back.  We've been car-less now for a little over 2 years and, while I don't exactly love it all the time, I have recently re-discovered my old NY-walking-feet-ways!

When I was driving the car, I never looked around.  I used to get truly frustrated trying to navigate this city and it's one-way streets.  Once the car was gone, I moved to the bike, which gave me great insight to the city.  While avoiding curbs, people, poles and parked cars, I looked up, down and all around as much as possible.  I was moving slower and had a lot less blind spots than in a car.  Of course, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end and that good time came to an end when my bike got stolen.
Back to my own two feet.

On foot I see things in the nooks and crannies of everyday life that I wouldn't see any other way.  I see the hidden graffiti and the small tchotchkes on window ledges indoors.  I see the strange flyers that are posted and the sorta seeming open-but might be closed-cuz i'm not sure it's a studio-or a shop shop/studio (man, I've seen the inside of a LOT of those and feel lucky to say so!). 

Maybe I'm just feeling a bit melancholy because any month now, I'm hoping we'll actually get a car.

watch how they land, always leaving a little room for something else to come along...

Oh, little house in the clouds, my little blog, don't worry... I shall return victorious!  

(very, very soon, I promise...)

Holiday Cheer (up!)

 

why so sad, mr. utility?

can't you see the red bow behind you?

it's xmas time!

apartment lovers

New First Girl at the Party post