In Between

And it doesn't have to be super brand new, I just ask that it rides smooth and fits my body comfortably so that I can ride and ride for miles and miles and feel the wind on my face and the sun on my back and forget that everything bad disappears and all that's left is beautiful and magnificent and brilliant.


Oh, and that it's no less stylish than exemplified in these lovely photographs above.

Ugh. Is anyone else feeling as unmotivated as I have been lately? I can't seem to find a rhythm of things. My pipeline of projects is never full and lasts about oh, a day, before I drop it. For what, exactly? A movie. My interests lately have been drawn to movies movies movies. I can't get my Netflix DVD's fast enough. There's a GREAT sounding new movie released nearly every week this summer so far. 500 Days of Summer, The Hurt Locker, Funny People, TIME TRAVELER'S WIFE, Twilight: New Moon, Moon, Inglourious Bastards, Paper Heart, Harry Potter, Public Enemies, District 9, Ponyo. (I'm bolding what I haven't yet seen but bet your bottom dollar that I damn sure will.)

I guess the point of this was to acknowledge my lack of motivation, with hopes that things will turn around. Soon.

"... So put on a happy face!"
I am actually deeply looking forward to snowboarding season. Look at these blue skies taken last winter on a ride up to North Lake Tahoe. Can you feel the 7AM cold against your face? The virgin powder grinding beneath your board, the feeling of weightlessness as you fly over the mountain... oh my god look what you've done to me!

Everyone, if there is one thing my boyfriend is passionate about, it's snowboarding. He's been doing it for like 10 years, long before I showed up in the picture. I'll let him tell you which one he loves more. When we first started dating it was a long distance relationship of a two and a half hour drive between us, leaving us roughly two days out of schedules to see each other. After a couple of months of that routine, winter came and changed it up on me. Our new routine consisted of him coming up the night before to spend the night, only to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn the next day to head to the mountains for the day. All day. Every weekend. CONSISTENTLY. Albeit I was toasty warm in bed, sleeping like a normal human being, I began to feel a sort of resent for the mountains, as if they were taking half my weekend with him away from me.

Stupid, I know. I'm a girl.

The next winter Jason came up with a rather genius solution. He decided that I should come along with him! Me, his girlfriend, the most NON-ATHLETIC PERSON ALIVE, to join him in a recreational sport. (That sentence, with that combination of words, by the way, should not exist.) His Christmas gift to me was a new board and bindings and boots. ummmm, awesome?

Let's just say that season kicked my ass. Badly. The next one, this past one, got a lot better. When there was soft snow my confidence boosted and I learned to go fast and get used to the speed. I could only ride heel-side and only just started to learn how to carve (I should probably insert the word "barely" in there somewhere) at the end of last season. I guess that's where I'll pick up next! My goal this year is to be able to keep up with them. Oh, and to not have to push myself along with my hands when it gets flat. That's just embarrassing.

Talk about eye catching. Don't just just want to melt in this moment? I need a trip to the mountains.
Hugh Forte via greenweddingshoes

Oh dear. I wouldn't mind cruising around town on this baby from Gary Fisher. I really think that this is the sort of exercise I need -- cruisinnnn'...

Imagine having this right above my couch, or even above my long desk. DAHHHBEAUTYYYY 3-pockets please.javascript:void(0)

Who brings a twinkle to my eyes? Jason, my partner in crime. He’s so close to me that I sometimes don’t see him clearly or notice the things he does for me. You know how it is. I’ll go through rotten phases when I think “he’s not sweet enough” or “he isn’t thoughtful enough” but literally as soon as the thought crosses my mind, he does something absolutely darling to flat out prove me wrong.
I have this Blankie that I’ve loved and cherished since childhood. Despite knowing how much it means to me, he occasionally teases me by calling it a “towel”. Grr.

I've taken it with me on every vacation, road trip, and sleepover I've ever been to. One corner used to live in my mouth. I had a technique for rubbing the soft fabric on my upper lip while sucking my thumb (a habit I didn't break until 4th grade or something ridiculous). Today I have a way of wrapping it around my head and over my eyes when I can't sleep, creating a cloud of soft warmth that soothes me like a charm.

The other morning we were getting ready to start the day and he’s uncharacteristically making the bed for us. Upon leaving the house I run back inside to grab something and see that after making the bed, he’d arranged two pillows and Blankie to form a HUGE smiley face, as if to make up for all the times he’s called it a towel. And I totally forgive him because of this moment.



Moments like these are common with Jason. He'll contradict my negative thoughts with a sleight of his hand and completely melt my heart. I don't know, maybe it doesn't take much to make me happy, but in my eyes, he totally turns my world right side up.

On Saturday, my good friend Debbie and I went to the Renegade Craft Fair, jonesin' for some handmade goods. The last time she and I tried to get 'crafty' was around last Christmas when we tried our hand at block printing. We got the rubber blocks, ink, borrowed some carving tools and spent an evening on my carpet sketching and carving away. We made a huge mess and called it a night without ever getting to the printing part. She eventually made some cards on her own, and I, well, let's just say Valentine's Day came around and Jason didn't get no crafty love.

Renegade was awesome and Debbie was the best person to go with. The Festival Pavilion was so huge we actually discussed our route and seriously considered taking a lunch break or at least getting a drink before finishing the last leg of booths. It felt like there were over three hundred booths! Clothing, jewelry, buttons, ceramics, stuffed mustaches, knitted poo, purses and bags, crayons shaped into Totoros, pillows made of toasts, stationary with humor and lots of posters... I could barely wrap my head around the fact that everything was HANDMADE.

Arrrrrrrr! Yet another fantastic and busy weekend and I find myself back at work. There is definitely something wrong with this picture.

I found another great wedding inspiration blog called Green Wedding Shoes that had a post to a particularly unique wedding. It was nothing but funfunfun, from what I could tell from the photos. I won't repost pictures here because they aren't mine, but mainly because there are too many good ones and I want you to see for yourself.

Their first dance was to "How Lucky We Are" by Meiko (a new introduction for me to the sweetest voice I've ever heard) segued into a choreographed dance to "Single Ladies" by Beyonce. [Your favorite song honey!] Their photo booth was live edited and thrown onto a projection during the reception -- how cool is that? And their engagement session was shot by the groom himself, conveniently a photographer by trade. Gush. I also loved the location of their wedding was arranged against a Woolly Pocket wall garden that is all over the internets nowadays and I can't wait to get my hands on one for my own living space. Every detail I've mentioned here are details I want to and plan to steal for my own wedding.

For those of you who just don't give a toot about anything I just wrote, here's a photo of my new glasses. What do you think: In or out?




I do actually have some photographic evidence of my weekend, coming soon I hope. They'll include paparazzi shots of the Renegade Craft Fair at Fort Mason, some shots on the road, interior shots of a birthday barbeque and then a couple randoms.

Some prints by Alan the Gallant (via Aleome) that I find absolutely astonishing. This is my favorite, esp against that soft alpaca looking blanket:


We're all happy it's Friday, right? Things I'm looking forward to this weekend include sleeping in, the Renegade Craft Fair at Fort Mason in SF, going to Davis to see my family and extended family on my dad's side, and some quiet time.

I've been feeling too-much-in-my-head lately, yet motivated at the same time. The ropes of twine that make up my life swarm around me in an underwater fashion, connecting me to the things that are the things that connect me. I'm whooshing around in this fishbowl of mine, letting go of the ropes that restrict me, hanging on and tying off the ropes that ground me. It's as if I have no choice to make, no decisions to weigh; it just is. If there's anything I've learned this past year is that
I am struggling to be *okay* with that. That "we cannot choose" is point of redemption, I think. Can we not choose because we can't make up our minds, or can we not choose because there is no other choice. Something to think about I suppose.

Going along that theme of certainty and choice is a fantastic movie called Phoebe in Wonderland that I watched last night and highly recommend. It's a beautiful story about a 9-year old (Dakota Fanning's little sister, Elle) who deals with very adult philosophies in the context of a child's world. My favorite quote from the movie:

At a certain part in your life. Probably when too much of it has gone by. You will open your eyes and see yourself for who you are. Especially for everything that made you so different from all the awful normals. And you will say to yourself, "But I am this person." And in that statement, that correction, there will be a kind of love.

If that speaks to you at all, git this on your Netflix queue immediately.

If you're interested in seeing where my mind has been swimming around, I updated my Inspir-nets reading list to the right.

I was thinking the other day that I would like to have children so that they may go to school and that I may make them bento boxes for lunch every morning. Yes, I want to be That Mother. I've always loved that scene in Totoro where the big sister is gently pressing one umeboshi on top of the rice she's packed into cute little bento boxes, and then tying them up in a furoshiki for her dad to take to work. And then she gobbles up her rice with chopsticks really really fast before running out the door herself.



There's something magical this compact meal of delicious variance that fills me with joy. This feeling of satisfaction is so powerful that I try to replicate it in all aspects of my life.

• I try to create a living space that is visually tasty and hold lots of shapes and sizes surrounding one central piece.
• My friends are interesting to me and complement each other.
• I prefer that my meals have options to choose from, and lean towards dishes with the most variety of ingredients.
• I select my wardrobe to be mix-n-matchable and of no particular style but yummy.
• Sometimes I organize with a level of OCD until things feel right.

I wonder if anyone else feels this strongly about bentoboxes as I do. They are just so cute and clever - I can't help but swoon over it's awesomeness. Is it just a Japanese thing? Is it just me?

Drool over rest of Flickr BentoBox pool here.
How to Make Chicken Lollipops on Just Bento

Hello hello!

Hope you all had a great weekend - talk about nice weather huh?

My Favorite Pasttime
Saturday we did the thing where we wake up leisurely and eventually doze off again, refusing to get out of bed until we absolutely have to eat. Indulged in Country Waffles breakfast and then did something that some couples do regularly that, personally, I find a bizarre way to spend time. We went to the mall. DUN DUN DUNNNNN.

The Mall
We malled for so long that my knees hurt. We shopped at one street-skate store to the next, realizing after the third one that it's all the same even after the fourth, fifth and sixth. I knew it was time to escape when we finally lapped back to the entrance of the consumerist abyss. I emerged with a cardigan, a short sleeve cardigan, a black miniskirt, a black halter top, a blazer and some bangles. He got a striped polo, a short-sleeve plaid button-up, a soft thin v-neck sweater in pumpkin orange, and a pair of jeans that are exactly like this other pair that is my favorite but in blue. How does one evaluate a successful mall experience?

After leaving the mall we stopped for a cold snack. The photo above illustrates our typical selections every time we get froyo -- mine is the one without sprinkles. Attempted to play some video games before heading to dinner for a friends' birthday, and then re-met the group in the city for a fun night of champagne, lounging and finally some got-damned dancing.

Sunday, A Contrast to Saturday
Sunday was an spontaneous and interesting version of Saturday. Jas came over as soon as he woke up (a few hours later than I expected, so insert Mamma Mia! dvd here) and we went to eat breakfast/lunch at Ole's Waffle Shop. After stuffing ourselves silly we visited an antique store next door and perused the vintage postcards, board games, glassware and furniture. Then we ventured to this huge flea market that he'd seen from the freeway, which turned out to be the Public Market of Little Mexico -- Bienvenidos! Totally not what we expected which is what made it so awesome. I should have snapped more shots of the strange yet everyday items these vendors were selling but already felt a bit out of place. We saw tools, toys, toiletries, fenders, socks and underwear, vegetables and fruit, stereo systems, wallets, peanuts, more tools, good looking rope... And again, we lapped the aisles and left with a whole new experience under our belts.

Nature + Time + Art: A Validating Documentary
We came home and put on this great documentary about Andy Goldsworthy that my little sister sent me for my birthday. It's about the work of an artist who uses natural elements of his surroundings and creates ephemeral sculptures to the brink of their collapse, against the natural context of time. It's really refreshing to 1) witness the process of such beautiful work and, 2) listen to someone talk and DO life work that which I've always yearned. I'm a collector of elements that I find in the places I've been as a momemtum but also for their beauty. There's something there that I'm trying to understand and bring within my home, within me. I guess it was validating to hear all these half-thoughts of mine in Goldsworthy's words. Thanks Mica.

Movie-marathon
In addition to the River and Tides documentary, I also watched Yes Man (a little shallow in plot but very funny), Mamma Mia! (during which I cried three times - why!??) and also, gulp, Bruno. Yes, Japheth, I said I wouldn't but I did -- I paid real cash dollars to watch that movie and I must say I don't totally regret it in the same way as I thought I would because of how MUCH it made me laugh. WHY it made me laugh is a little... eh... can't find... awkward... words...

A Harmonica Clip
I leave you with something awesome, something sweet, a moment on the way to Ole's. Waiting at a red light we thought for a millisecond that we heard a harmonica closeby, looked around but couldn't find its source. Then we realized the old man in the sunglasses and straw hat in the Volvo next to us had a harmonica in his steering hand, playing it when traffic slowed.

So grateful for the iPhone for these moments exactly.

So I just want to write about the three elevators at my work for a bit.

Creepy Modernization
They've been working on 'modernizing' the elevators one by one for the past, oh, forever. So far they've finished one. The only noticeable upgrade is that the elevator can now announce in a 35 year old woman's voice what floor you are currently passing and what direction you are going (up, or down). It's really creepy. I don't know why anyone would ever choose to ride in it, and I think in fact that people don't.

Somehow in the 'modernization' project of the first elevator they managed to wire the two remaining elevators to run together while the third elevator is out of commission. These two remaining elevators face each other exactly and so you can see the doors open on the other side at the same time and see the people file out. And when you push the button to go back down to the lobby, you will wait for a long time before TWO elevators open for you, as if to say "Now wasn't that worth the wait?". No, elevators, it was not.

Shall We Race?
Now, every time I wait for the elevator with a group of people, I hope that I have the guts to take the 'other elevator' and race the rest of the group down to the lobby so that I can jump out and get to lunch first. But that woman's voice is really loud and so creepy that I never want to take the elevator alone, and it seems that everyone else also feels the same. Nobody rides that second, fancy elevator. What a waste of modernization.

Forced Philosophical Statements
Today, the doors opened up to my floor and I damn near ran into someone trying to enter the elevator. Where are his manners! You should wait for people to exit before entering, I was once told. I laughed anyway and said "Hi", and he was a little flurried because the other elevator arrived at the same time mine did, as usual. He didn't know which one to pick and cried, "I always have to choose!" and I laughed, and said something dumb about how yeah it's a race and as I walked away I realized I should have instead responded, in a spooky voice, "There's always a choice". The thought felt profound enough at the time to write about.

Admittedly, I could be selectively picking up these moments and reading into them as part of the choice-related theme my life has been following. More on that another time...

A photo by Lola, and a photo from Lola: my most dear, interesting, caring friend.