under the fig tree

this one will be our peace

2009-12-01T23:34:00.000-08:00

At The Garage, in Charlottesville, on Friday, starting at 4 PM: "This One Will Be Our Peace"-- an exploration of proclamations and coverings. This is my first attempt at an installation. So, let this be an experience in grace.

ARTIST STATEMENT

These banners explore a common language to name both the sacred and the profane. Rather than keeping our faults in the dark while esteeming our achievements, these praises and defeats acknowledge the co-existence of glory and mistake—to identify each as true. By abandoning the exclusive use of proclamation for celebration, these flags describe the character of both the sanctuary and the cul-de-sac, considering a way to lessen the margin between the church and daily life.

The garage's covering is the most bold and merciful layer. The knitting gracefully covers and triumphantly states its claim over both the exaltations and the faults of the space—or neighbor, community association, local church body, relatives, school board, self. “His banner over me is Love.”

In light of Advent, these banners find their roots in the redemption story. Though Israel abandoned the proclamations given by God to identify as His people, He still remembered His covenant and mercifully provided an everlasting covering—the Messiah. Woven through promised and fulfilled salvation, His ornament covers both the rebellion and performance of His people. This One will be our peace.

a high five

2009-10-08T07:47:00.000-07:00

bicycling in nyc serves an alternative purpose:
http://www.todaysbigthing.com/2009/09/29

also, according to Natalie, this is what we call a "signpost to redemption."

bluegrass and breakfast

2009-09-16T08:30:00.001-07:00

i am a statistic. i spent my college years thinking that Brooklyn or the North Shore could probably boast of a better breakfast joint. i graduated with hope in hand that my new life-after-college-neighborhood would hold for me a new home-made biscuit. i thought there'd be new locals and a different world on the horizon. i'm certainly no qualified breakfast boss, but i've tasted and seen some (and sometimes the "best of") only to conclude: Virginians, your hope remains on 2nd street.

Friend of a Farmer certainly has her french presses ready-to-order and her wallpaper nicely blanketing the wall and her griddles personal and simmering. but the salt on her home fries often slips to the bottom. and she requires a wait in the shivering plastic cold. and she was an hour away.

Kitchenette can boast of glass covered cake covers and weekend turnovers of different french toast specialties and doors-turned-into-tables. her kitschy decor makes you think that even your coffee might be polka-dotted. but her coffee is weak. and her wait is even longer, due to a staff that is seriously disgruntled (and not just locally so for flavor and "atmosphere"). and she commits the most serious morning-munch faux paux by staying open for... dare i say... dinner. we were faithful to her because she was like manna, falling at our doorstep when we were desperate for an early morning luxury.

however, according to housemates, there's just something about the tedious amount of painstaking concentration Bluegrass must've required to saw, place, and mantle tacky plastic covering over her country apple wallpaper in the glass building on 2nd st. she probably made those quilts that are crookedly spotted on the wall. her quality coffee makes thy cup overfloweth from her collection of mismatched mugs. her menu is simple, satisfying, and the same. her 1-2 hour wait is written by hand, and she only accepts cash for her hand-written tabs. there's something about not being open on Mondays that makes her mysterious enough to be "chased." she's fulfilling and full of friends. her hearty-ness makes her feel like family, like breakfast should be, and reminds her breakfast-buyer that... well... you might as well be home.

rock on, little high street.

2009-09-04T06:23:00.000-07:00

i met my roommate's stuff before i met her. i peeked through the kitchen door and into her... vinyl collection. creepy? maybe.

julie's records are set in a plastic crate, a box identical to the one my parents have chosen to store their old tapes n' tapes. at age 23, julie's impression is made by the range of choosings: from niche findings (Breathe Owl Breathe) to more main-streamed indie likings (The National and Grizzly Bear) all the way to the classics (Emmylou Harris and Bob Dylan).

those examples are a very incomplete listing. the thickness of the stack implies that she's actually investing, rather than just picking up a trendy hobby. and you know hobbies are legit when research and mail orders become a sustainable part of your everyday life.

thankfully, she occupies the downstairs bedroom, where she can play house DJ after her 9-5 workday. we've vinyl-ly made a friend we can music-ly rely on.

Parks & Rec

2009-05-29T09:46:00.000-07:00

my mom's new job is good for a lot of reasons. but it is mainly good for stories.

as a recently established Parks & Rec employee, Donna works for the Loudoun Area on Aging. every lunchtime hour brings a new scenario with the elderly to report to the rest of the elderly-loving Lovett family.

our favorite friend is a women with Alzheimer's who knows very well that she has Alzheimer's: Densy: "Hi, I'm Densy but don't tell me your name because I'll just forget it."

Of most recent, my mom brought the William Water's House home-baked cookies. When Densy was given some more to take to her room, one of her friends exclaimed, "Oh, Densy! You can eat those with your coffee!"
Densy: Breaking down in tears admitted, "I don't remember how to make coffee!"
Elderly friends: "It's OK! We all forget sometimes."
Densy: "I'm just so sorry. I'm acting like a baby!"
Elderly friends: "It's fine! You're not acting!"

My mom called to make sure that when she was older and forgot how to measure and stir, I would be there to help out. Upon hearing Densy's account, Natalie admitted that, despite working at a coffee shop and not having Alzheimer's, she too has no idea how to make coffee and can empathize with Densy's feelings of forgetfulness. Rest assured, I'm happy to provide.

Law & Order: SVU @ Crunch

2009-04-07T10:18:00.000-07:00

a celebrity sighting update. Richard Belzer and I go to the same gym. He even wears those sunglasses when he works out. And yes, he still works out. We did crunches together.

Best Funeral Ever

2009-04-02T19:24:00.000-07:00

i totally got April Fooled because of this. i seriously considered removing my membership. well done, IE.

Listen To Your Buds

2009-04-02T14:06:00.000-07:00

Here's an email from my dad to his daughters that is being passed onto the blogosphere because it's important. Bruce knows best.

"Girls,

I was talking to a senior person at a speech, hearing association this week and she was saying one of the biggest issues today is long term hearing loss due to iPods/ear buds. She said that much of the hearing loss will not be noticeable until people are in the late 20s/early 30s and it is permanent. So keep those iPods turned down to keep those lovely ears working well! A link to their site that talks about this… http://www.listentoyourbuds.org/parents.php?id=3.

Love you!!
Dad"

i'll Brett you've seen this before

2009-04-01T20:49:00.000-07:00

instead of writing my own entry, i'll just point you in the direction of some better ones. Brett McCracken has written some nice things lately. here's a shoutout to Alissa for introducing us: shout. out.

Are You A Christian Hipster?
The New Christian Irony (Check out his link to Lark News.)
Calvinism: So Hot Right Now
The N.T. Right Stuff

he also has a hot list of thought-shapers in the right hand column. go, Brett.

go humans go

2009-03-31T18:02:00.000-07:00

dry humor for dry cereal. brilliant.

away we go

2009-03-29T21:02:00.000-07:00

this just brought a lot of joy to my anticipated summer: Sam Mendes, some well-chosen illustrations, & likely soundtrack potential.

"what's wrong with strollers?"- John Krasinski
"i loooove my babies. why would I want to PUSH them away from me?" - Maggie Gyllenhaal

in October, let's rent a double feature with Where The Wild Things Are.

this is not about the white house vegetable garden.

2009-03-26T18:30:00.000-07:00

for all you Gilead & Home lovers, Marilyn Robinson gave the most eloquent lecture i've ever heard in the history of lectures at Yale this evening. that's not saying much because i don't have any of those abbreviated & expensive certificates, like a Ph.D or an MFA or what have you. after reading her Paris Review interview at an IAM discussion, my expectations were to hear from an intelligent and admirable recluse-- disshelved... but way smart. she was quite the contrary.

she talked about neo-darwinism, parascience, Phineas Gage, and a lot of words with the suffix "-ical". i grinned halfway through, glancing at natalie's notes: "Marilyn Robinson Takes On Neo-Darwinism." as listener upon listener got up to the mic during Q&A, she would charmingly reply with something awesomely eloquent and the occasional interjection of "you know". no, professor robinson, i really don't know what you're saying. i don't think i agree with richard dawkins, and i think i know what altruism is, and i think i know something about modernity.

there is one thing i do know. i do know that your silver hair is well-earned and stunning.

tweet tweet

2009-03-11T12:27:00.000-07:00

waiting for the train last night, i was standing in one of those heated spaces that feels so synthetic, it can't be good for you. the machine that's supposed to keep us warm just made loud clicking noises. thankfully, the space was still good for a wind shield. inside, i found an awe-struck girl nodding incessantly towards a boy who was reciting lines from their previous poetry class. her responses to his class-act were priceless. my first reaction? not to snicker... but to twitter.

the fickle thing about this predicament is that i'm not a twitter-er. i don't tweet. i don't want to be connected in real time or answer the question "what are you doing?" micro-blogging is not a hobby of mine.

despite my firm stance against signing up, twitter is tweetering through my thoughts. repeatedly, i think "i should twitter that." for example, "@ Union Square. Just got hit by a bicyclist." or "Billy Collins is using my pen."

i'll consider my instincts an ode to the genius creators and continue to deny my pretentious desire to beat others to a funny line, trendy activity, or noteworthy review. tweet tweet.

to steal a line from jessi klein.

2009-02-02T11:40:00.000-08:00

i like THIS.

going up.

2009-01-31T12:32:00.000-08:00

i'm not an organic-fiend-- i just have a lot of allergies. so, obviously, i shop on the second floor. typically, the elevator is filled with New York native, Fairway junkies. and i usually feel out of place. but today, when i joined the group-scoff that "the secret's out" because this article made the front page of the Times, I thought: I've Finally Made It.

an open letter to our squatting "friends."

2009-01-30T10:03:00.000-08:00

dear ceiling rats,

you can have our food. and our stuff. and our light fixtures. just stay in the ceiling. and don't attack us in the middle of the night. and never show your face in our place unless you plan on helping with chores and writing a rent check to jodi. and stop throwing ceiling parties at 3 am. we don't want to party with you.

you're no Fievel,
maureen, jodi, and natalie.

and folks dressed up like eskimos.

2009-01-14T07:29:00.000-08:00

a few seasons ago, new yorkers decided that fur hats were a staple item of the winter wardrobe. however, unlike the absolutely necessary long down coat to keep the rest of you furnacy-fresh, i remained convinced that there were ways to keep your brain warm aside from covering your ears and forehead (and forehead extended) with a rabbit. i don't want to look like a soviet. or a guy. or a hipster. apparently, whoever thought that some one's alaskan roots could earn them a place in hipster-ville (otherwise known as w-burg) was certainly thinking strategically.

so, for two straight months, i schemed to avoid buying a russian head dress. i was convinced that the ploy was a conspiracy... or a flop-- that your brain could stay warm in a well-crafted knit hat with ears, or a down hood, or some other hat that was yet to be discovered by urban outfitters spies.

but it's just plain false. indeed, they ARE the warmest head covering during january and february. they even buckle! and no FIT-er has yet to mass produce one that doesn't come in your average color, tweed, plaid, or stripes. you would think that some forward-thinking-twenty-something would've created an animal-and-eco-friendly-well-made-and-good-looking alternative that doesn't make you look like every other city pedestrian.

so, i regrettably admit, that after months of trying to wear ear muffs or floppy knitted beanies, the eskimo (well... now... eski-moe) look has found its way onto my noggin. at least i haggled for it. maybe some blog-reader should point me in the way of the real trend-setting stores-- the ones that are clearly out of my line of sight. that's assuming i have blog-readers. and that they're on the trend-setting edge.

happy birthday, joanlie.

2009-01-12T20:55:00.000-08:00

inspired by broken umbrellas, stencils, and your birthday.

it should've been called Faith

2009-01-08T21:37:00.000-08:00

warning: spoiler ahead. there are two concluding sides to the film. or are there?

one the one hand, you can believe that he didn't do it. that he sacrificially resigned his position out of love for the least loved (dying to his self only to be resurrected into a higher position at another parish). even though father flynn is a little too close for comfort with the kids. and his nails are way too long (he's obsessed with the impression of cleanliness, symbolically pointing to a facade). that sister james was also right. despite her naivety. even though you don't want to believe her because she's so innocent and because she was so quick to state her belief claim to avoid conflict. that donald miller really did want to be an altar boy, and the priest was his earthly protector. even though donald's father's abuse would leave him more susceptible to other types of abuse. that, according to his mother, it was in his nature.

or you can believe that he did do it. that sister aloysius (def: famous warrior) was right. even though you don't want to like her because she's (practically) heart-less. that it doesn't make any sense that donald would be sober in class but had alcohol on his breath upon his return. that father flynn never outright convinces you that he didn't do it. that the father admits fault and says that some things you will never understand. then he resigns.

or maybe both were in the wrong. that the priest and his priestly comrades failed even though they tried to carry out a message of compassion and grace. and that sister aloysius failed even though she tried live by the rules. which son was the prodigal one? the contrasted dinner scenes of the men's and women's households all too clearly point to a false gospel of total excess and a false gospel of performance (i.e. religion). point being, both are false.

and sister james can't achieve either balance. when she tries to teach compassionately, the class is out of control. yet, when she tries to act sternly without grace, she is hurtful and ineffective. so, humanity (whether they try to perform accordingly or extend grace) is ultimately marred. conclusively, both instances of truth-telling to sister aloysuis by father flynn and donald's mother (the flawed givers of grace) certainly affirm that there is no difference between those who take vows and those who don't. this is where Faith enters in.

Doubt assures you that you have no absolute certainty in what is seen (or scene). but Faith confesses a perfect Father who redeems both the vow-takers and the non-vow-takers. ultimately, the film asks which is more satisfying. do you believe in a conclusion that is always and forever inconclusive or a hope, based both on what you have seen and not seen, in a Redeemer whose Love for a flawed humanity is perfect and... unexplainable?

just friends

2008-12-19T19:29:00.000-08:00

over the course of a few days, i dragged tina along (or made her hang out with jodi), while i figured out some last minute details and delivery with Visiting Neighbors. this community organization assists/hangs out with/shops for/shops with/delivers holiday gifts to the lonely elderly of new york city. tina kept calling the service "just friends," as if a DTR was necessary every time i sat down with an old person for tea. tina really did forget how to speak english. so, while she was busy blaming her short term memory on nicaragua, i got my first taste of visits to old neighbors in some wall-paper-was-just-invented-so-i-put-it-all-over-my-home-regardless-of-wall-space apartments.

my first gift-delivery was to leona, and she did NOT want a visit. her gift bag had been decorated by a high school volunteer who used two candy canes for the "l's" in "holla." and everyone knows that "happy holla dayz" is infinitely more elegant than the usual christmas greeting. this actually ended up being better than something simple like "merry christmas," since leona was... jewish.

the second and last holiday visit was to mr. leannon (not to be confused with lennon), an 89 year old life-of-the-party kind of guy. john lives on the same floor as his "guardian angels"-- three "younger" women--each in their 60's who each also live alone. lynn used to work for whitney houston, that is... until the recession. but john and lynn weren't having christmas dinner together because they weren't those kind of friends. after hearing of his upcoming trip to buy a new sweater, hatred for the mid-west, love for lean cuisine, gifts for his landlord, and advice on my pension plan (or lack thereof), my only appropriate response was "bless my heart"-- in a very brooke barnett kind of way.

there are plenty of old people in new york who would love for you to accompany them to a beauty parlor, a museum, or a grocery store. so, if you love to knit, bake, talk, walk slowly, drink tea, hang out with cats, talk about sweaters, or just wear sweaters, Visiting Neighbors knows plenty of "just friends" in the city who are tired of "just talking" to their cat. i'm making jodi sign up. all the more reason to consider it for your 2009 list of non-touristy-things-to-do.

season's greetings

2008-12-03T07:49:00.000-08:00

if this doesn't scream "it's the holiday season," i don't know what does.

i-don't-have-a-pet peeves

2008-11-10T13:49:00.000-08:00

i'm not sure why these things are referred to as "pets." they are neither warm nor cuddly. and they're more serious than say, your neighborhood cat. i'd say they're as serious as a son or daughter relation. someone should re-name them "heir" peeves.

nonetheless, where better a home for the ever-evolving list of nuisances than a blog? considering that blogging used to be on the list, i think it's a more than suitable home. and now is just as good of a time to start than say, tomorrow at 12:14. in absolutely no order, other than the first...

1. (otherwise known as the ultimate offense): being touched or seeing someone else touch the inside of my elbow or theirs. take your pick. inside of the elbow is off limits, no matter the occasion. you guessed it-- i'm selfish with my plasma out of fear of fainting from horror and anguish.
2. the sound of teeth being brushed without water running. considering that the avoidance of this "heir" peeve is a waste of precious resources, i don't know how public i'll let this one remain.
3. unopened mail.
4. jodi.
5. (site-specific) when commuters don't move to the middle of the subway car.
6. sidewalks that aburptly end in suburban neighborhoods.
7. asthma.
8. jodi.
9. partially erased white boards.
10. food in my teeth.
11a. the feeling of felt.
11b. the feeling of the inside ceiling of minivans.
11c. the feeling of those light blue, electrically heated blankets.
12. pearls.
13. capital letters.
14. sweating and/or heat.
15. shellfish.
16. jodi.
17. when the shower wrinkles my hands.
18. losing something or being lost.
19. when my friends live in nicaragua.
20. unfinished books.
21. when matt tells me that he can't hear me.
22. fitted sheets that don't fit.
23. cranberry juice.
24. jodi.
25. not having a green thumb.
26. cold hands, feet, and toes. and when my mouth freezes because i ate too much ice. and it affects my speech.

someone had to pee before me

2008-10-30T08:33:00.001-07:00

natalie, thanks for the much needed tip. my cultural mentor never fails.

urine for a treat*

2008-10-21T18:47:00.000-07:00

dear new york city,

i'd like to post a public complaint. this city is very diverse. there are people from all walks of life: small people, wrinkled people, fashionable people, tall-model-y people, new jersey people, dog people, flighty people, and cockroaches as common as people. but when you designed this metropolis, you clearly forgot about the small-bladdered people.

i have to go to the bathroom more often than say... most others. especially in the morning. and when jodi makes me laugh while crossing the street. and when you godda-go, you godda-go. but new york does not make this practical in the least.

NFT does have a section on where to use the bathroom, but i don't want to look like a newbie reading NFT in public. and when i'm in public is when i remember that i have to pee. i think it said something about museums, but you can't trust museums when they differ from us common folk on the meaning of certain words. like "suggested donation."

so, i'd like to send a belated apology to starbucks for considering their restrooms "public." thank you for sort of hiding them to the side so your employees don't really figure out that i often have no intention of buying a tall-skim-hazelnut-no-foam-latte. i'm finally thankful that there's
one of you on every corner. sort of.

* blog title compliments to stephen premo.

also, look what happened to avery when she came to visit.

afternoon tea

2008-10-05T17:31:00.000-07:00

today, in line for the bathroom, every obnoxious attempt to sound british with my friends paid off. especially that trip to leesburg with amanda.

there was a tattooed couple standing next to me who were a little too comfortable with each other in public (you know the kind). they kept whispering (what i thought were sweet nothings) to each other in line. when they started pointing back at me, suspicion arose... as i became more uncomfortable than before. while i tried to avert my awkward glares, the guy looked up and muttered a question in my direction. i couldn't believe my ears: he asked if i was british!

turns out, this all-too-affectionate couple could've been featured in the new york times weddings/celebrations section: she was a british photo editor for a magazine to whom his photos were submitted from new york. they crossed the pond to join in holy matrimony. all of this to point out...she was british!

i sheepishly replied that no, i was from virginia but often spoke in a british accent. they prompted me to back up my claim of proficient british imitation, but i refused to be put to shame by a legit brit. they said that together, they've never been wrong about an english visitor to new york, and they were "shocked" to discover that i was american.

i assured these folks that they had paid me a very high compliment, however nothing about me says "oh hey, i'm from england." i was interested in knowing their criteria for labeling someone as such a prestigious foreigner. but they slipped into the bathroom... together... before i had the chance to research their assumptions.

john cusack and apple cider

2008-09-23T20:07:00.000-07:00

with all the craziness of these past few weeks...like seeing the smallest man in the world get his shoes shined and amanda and brad getting hitched and finding a road called Cardigan Street (!??!)... i forgot about a very important part of september. until today!

i was walking past the Garden of Eden, not to be confused with The Garden of Eden, and a pumpkin display caught my eye. simultaneously, i caught a wiff of apple cider, and it dawned on me! with all this talk of celebrities and busy schedules and so on, i had forgotten to talk about the weather! so today, i remembered... fall is my favorite season! it had literally slipped my mind.

usually, autumntide brings Sheetz harvest spice cup-o-cinos, a boston fall break, apple picking, crab tree falls, building campfires, making apple cider with 8 other roommates, having a family pumpkin carving contest, and of course--wearing drawn-on freckles and flannel to an annual fall festival. and although new york doesn't have a sheetz or 8 roommates or virginia's mountains or fireplaces or family, it can still bring about my most favorite activity of all.

no, it's not the changing of the leaves or cinnamon apple cider. instead, this season finally makes appropriate the two things i love to do all year round: i can appropriately listen to the serendipity soundtrack AND wear sweaters every day with every outfit at anytime.

consequently (and just as every other day), i wore my favorite sweater and listened to annie lenox. but i did it with a sincerely warm smile, while i heartedly began to anticipate the coming weeks, coming visitors, and especially, the coming of mustard yellow leaves.

two unfortunate events

2008-09-17T18:17:00.000-07:00

as if our last celebrity sighting wasn't enough of a disappointment (since i didn't know who it was "we" were siting), yesterday's (lack of a) celebrity fix was such a downer. natalie conveniently did not invite me to meet her friend, sarah, for dinner. upon said meeting, she stood (practically) next to katie holmes and john lithgow.

i had a serious case of roommate envy. that is, until jodi described what would've been a brisk and joyful walk through the park that afternoon. while the rest of the world was yearbooking themselves, jodi was sprinting-- i mean, walking-- to her location of choice when a blur of a dog... peed on her. i think she washed her hands 173 times after the incident, despite the location of urine resting on her lower leg.

i don't think this is how friendship is supposed to work... but somehow, despite practically a -1 count of celebrity sightings, my envy was quickly appeased when i realized my jeans were clean and shoes were dry.

on being culturally discipled

2008-09-03T14:31:00.000-07:00

most people i admire would suggest that mentors are a must have, especially during those wonder years; those twenty-somethings can become so impressionable and scatterbrained without direction, protection, and affection. typically, i tend to agree with the praiseworthy type of folk. so, i'm in the market for all sorts of mentors.

before our roommate-ship, i had guessed that "Lady" (with a capital "L") hadn't fallen before her first name just for kicks. i had anticipated counting on her for refining my taste in all things polite and polished. but natalie has taken her role as my cultural counselor to a whole new level.

her pool of (some would imply unavailing) knowledge runs the gamut. just last night, she introduced me to the elegant hobby of slacklining. just like hacky sacks, FEED bags, and dreads, walking on a rope seems to be floating the boat of many a university hippie community. this sport has been around so long that they even have protestors protesting slacklining. how have i remained so in the dark?!

natalie immediately saw the need for some homework-- an issue of the onion. i tried to slyly act like the publication was already familiar, but with regret/shame, i admit that this esteemed piece of print has somehow evaded my daily collection of reading for quite some time. good thing i have natalie to guide me in the path of a sarcastic, inaccurate news source.

and finally, Reader, she is even on her toes before her morning jolt of caffeine. early this morning, while waiting patiently for our espresso to open wide our eyes, we had our first mutual celebrity sighting. natalie gave my arm a firm shake as christy turlington visited our wednesday-morning-coffee-shop-of-choice. even under heavy shades, a huge sweater, a loose frock, a brimmed hat, and a large tote, christy did not escape the glare of my mentor. natalie faithfully provided a full biography of the super model when my blank stare implied i didn't quite fully, entirely, really, altogether understand who had just consumed coffee and a pastry a few feet away.

i don't have much to offer her in return, other than a mediocre short course on how to turn arts and crafts into a major. meanwhile, i am drowning in celebrity pictures and profiles in order to survive the rest of the year in this city.

we ain't got no spoons

2008-08-25T11:21:00.000-07:00

i knew that living in new york city would have its dissapointments. i mean... walkability, diversity, opportunity, city-at-night-ity can't come without some set backs.

for example, i expected the budget to be a bit tighter with rent and food prices and taxes and art viewings and travel and amenities and such being so expensive. but then again, i considered that public transportation could offset some of these high prices. effectively, things that usually fit into the "budget" (chai lattes, the occasional buy from anthropologie's sale room, wine, an orchid) wouldn't have to be cut ENTIRELY. i could still enjoy the sporadic pick-me-up that i'm supposed to fool you into thinking was from my grandma's closet or a pittsburgh thrift store.*

i was only partially fooled. indeed, some items can stay in the miscellaneous section of the budget for the time being. as long as certain sacrifices are made. like, we don't have a tv. and jodi doesn't have a bed (rather, it's just above mine). and we have to be creative. so in an effort to cut unnecessary costs, we have little to no silverware.

the thought was proposed to find some more spoons (since they seem to run out the fastest). but then we just decided to hand wash. why spend when you can use the same spoon for cereal, to stir coffee, and cuddle? we also collect napkins from restaurants and will gladly accept any erroneous utensils you have lying on your night stand or coffee table. other acceptable hand-me-downs include: a house plant, toilet paper, an electric screw driver, a flat screen tv, an elevator, a MoMA membership, tact, a vacuum, and home videos.

*disclaimer: my lucien white sweatshirt, collection of old polaroids, comforter, blanket, pillow, herb glosseried short-sleeved frock, pink turtle-neck sweater, stirrup pants, "Life Magazine: Since 1927" and love for all things travel have indeed been inherited from Mamaw. in all sincerity, i do love these treasures. and not for my reputation's sake. since, let's be honest, it has no sake at all.

fifteen more

2008-08-17T19:28:00.000-07:00

as a postscript to the previous entry, here are a few things our apartment would like to add to the list:

107. blogging
108. being well-read
109. The Food Network
110. writing a thesis
111. knowing how to drive stick
112. Gmail
113. name dropping
114. adoption
115. helping Africa
116. sleep aids
117. urban farming
118. Moleskins
119. sarcasm
120. Bravo reality TV shows
121. frozen yogurt
122. quoting Will Ferrel, The Office, Gilmore Girls, and Friends
123. Polaroids
124. adding to "the stuff white people like" list

a rendition of #5

2008-08-16T20:00:00.000-07:00

considering charlottesville's considerable display of iced coffee, illegal cheese, and greenery to be found downtown every saturday throughout the reasonable temperate months, we couldn't pass up the opportunity to buy some fresh produce and people watch on a saturday morning. union square's mixed bag of vendors provided natalie, jodi, and i with some excellent greens and cold strawberry apple cider.

however, in a twist of the usual farmer's market plot, the main characters of this morning were not the grungy vendors nor the adopt-a-dog-walkers. rather, two characters (a man and supposed wife) caught the attention of many a market goer. hoisted on their shoulders were large rubber mats and parrots on leashes. despite the heat and the crowds around the park, most on-lookers stopped to chat with the parrots.

naturally, if you are inclined enough to bring your large parrots to the already crowded market, one would assume that the birds could provide some sort of perpetual entertainment (at least enough to make the extra weight during travel worth the burden.) but despite the owners insistence on loudly speaking "with" their pets, the parrots could only squawk ignorantly in return, providing continual disappointment for the on-lookers.

at least the parrots provided a creative twist for number 5. in addition, the apartment also admits today's fulfillment of 1, 6, 8, 9, 12, 24, 26, 28, 32, 35, 40, 41, 44, 47, 48, 49, 55, 79, 86, 97, 98, 103, and 106. and tomorrow, i have plans to make hummus.

two points of contention

2008-07-30T12:40:00.000-07:00

this is a huge step. rather, a flight across the grand canyon. eons ago, i solemnly swore to the sisterhood of the traveling pants that i would never blog. however, with graduation being a thing of the past, virginia is no longer home base for many a close kin. so, for efficient communication purposes, i caved. oh, and tina cracked first.

blog name considerations: "girana-moe!" but when jodi suggested it should be "girana-maureen", it was laid to rest. second: "spill your global guts", "a piece of the aggrokrag", or the more politically driven, "a peace of the aggrokrag". why? because i, duh, love 90s tv shows. and the referee/board controller/british voice of reason was named moe. soon, amanda told me to stop trying to pun my name. so, i switched gears.

"under the fig tree" (subtly) references the 90s tv show "under the umbrella tree." second: it's a snapshot from sylvia plath's "the bell jar." this reference gives me like 246 wanna-be-hipster points. having recovered from food poisoning, esther greenwood reads a story in Ladies Day about a fig tree. a jewish man and a nun meet at a fig tree every day to gather figs. one day, they watch a bird come out of an egg together and accidentally touch hands. the following day, the beautiful nun is replaced by a Catholic kitchen maid, who turns fig-gathering into a hasty competition. esther "wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print the way you crawl through a fence, and go to sleep under that beautiful big green fig tree." (55). this reference is significant because i like print and i like meeting places and i like new life. third: fig trees have cool branches. and fourth: figs don't just appear. jesus often referred to us as fig trees, who need to be provided for and cared for and nourished from a greater source in order to produce figs, rather than say, olives. moreover, in biblical times, figs were stored in pressed cakes and used as clothing. i also like cake and clothes.