Goodbye long weekend, hello short week! Charlie finished his first batch of home brew, got 'em all labeled up and we did a little tasting this weekend. There's an annual Labor Day Weekend festival near our house that brings out the worst in people (since when is it okay to park in a true lane in the road? Ripping up no parking signs and parking where they were temporarily placed. Kids scaling our 6 + foot fence because walking around our backyard is apparently too much trouble. . .) and makes me and the Mister seriously consider any outings before attempting them.

Naturally, there was drawing time (and a sneak peek for you of the 2009 Calendar).

This is the last week of the Handmade Kids Contest on etsy, so if you haven't, and you're feeling generous, would you kindly vote for my Fungi Poster? If you have, I'd like to thank you again. I'd hug you if it weren't for this computer screen in the way.

Also, we ripped up one veggie bed, readying the space for Lacey 6 row barley. We picked barley as a cover crop for the winter, hoping to reap the benefits of a grain over something like clover. This hopefulness seems to create a stir among the world outside our little Sweet Haven. The common consensus is that grain should be a large acreage crop, not a mere couple hundred feet worth. But we're hopeful, and ready to try a nontraditional backyard crop.
If it sounds unfathomable to you, too, check out Sunset Magazine's One Block Diet experiment. They have a Team Beer that did the same thing (on a slightly larger scale) and inspired our pick of Lacey.

Keep your fingers crossed for us, and of course we'll keep you filled in on the progress!

The summer recipes at Anson Mills have been posted, and the tortillas are definitely on my list to try. The beginning narrative is wonderful, but also makes me wonder what kind of farmer lives a "the crops have been planted so I'm sitting here at the beach house" kind of life? I would like to sign up for that life, please?

I've got 2 gallons of milk in my fridge with the name Cheddar on them. First, the cultured buttermilk must become a mesophilic culture, though.

Figuring out with to do with the red freestone peaches in my fridge. Canned for a bit of summer in the winter? Peach butter?

This past weekend we made: 6 quarts of marinara sauce, 1 quart and 6 pints of relish, and bottled 48 Sierra Nevada style pale ales. Sounds like there's a party on the horizon, huh?

And yes, there is art happening all over the place in our house, getting prepared for (read: freaking out about going to...) Renegade. But I've decided to keep all of these projects top secret. . .at least for as long as I can keep a secret because I'm not so good at keeping my own secrets.

Thank you for your kind comments as I publicly displayed my personal doubts about this trip. I'm trying to remain in check. The anxiety monster, however, hasn't been listening to self assurance. Just gotta keep doing, though, right? That's what we all do: keep trying.

And if you're so inclined for an art investment, the Old School Show at Uppercase is available online. My work is on page 2. Word on the street is, my pre-ordered copies of the show books are on their way into the US right now. I will have a few with me at Renegade for sale as well, just because it's such a rad show I think people will like it. When I say rad, I actually mean RADICAL. If you feel so inclined, you can preview it here.

In other news, I'm tired of tripping over materials in my studio, so as I get the time and motivation, they're being added to the etsy shop. So far it's just a giant roll of oilcloth, but there will be more. Oh yes, there will be lots more.

short and sweet now. later the prizes

Well, here it is, Friday, and the luster of new-found debt freedom is waning. I have thoroughly enjoyed the ideas everyone has shared this week, and will start drawing for names for door prizes soon, so look for an email or come back and check the names later on this afternoon--cause kickin' off the weekend with free stuff seems pretty dern cool, right?

In the meantime, I'm off to finish up my post for Modish today. Happy Friday, and see you back here soon!

Jason Munn's print (available through If you could do anything tomorrow, what would it be?; found via Sia Grafica) is exactly what I have in mind for the weekend. And just might have to be my next big splurge. Looks like I'll have plenty of time ahead of me to decide how lasting the design will resonate with me.

join me in a daydream, won't you?

If I were a meat eater, I'd certainly be in the mood for a beach side fish fry, of course, while listening to a couple things I'm yearning to download: Bonnie Prince Billy, sun kil moon/Mark Kozelek. A few days ago I "reheard" an Emmylou Harris/Gram Parsons duet and remembered how much I need to break out the old stuff. It's the stuff lazy beachy days are made of. Add in Blood on the Tracks, a faded wide-brimmed hat and a basket of just-this-side-of-ripe peaches and I'd melt right into the neutral backdrop I've gathered below.

Domino Magazine's slideshow of Thom Filicia's beachy home (center image).
Ikea lounge chair and rocking chair (upper left, lower right).
Groundwork's beautiful Fungi Print.
Domestic-Construction tea cup light cluster, also via Poppytalk.
I'd much more prefer a delicate hourglass to glass bouys (too much like a fried seafood restaurant for my taste); these are by Roost and available through Rian Rae, though I've seen them at Anthropologie and several other places, too.
Floating house dock: via Poppytalk via Skona hem.
Sydney based FlowerPress tea towels ready for double duty as light infusing curtains (as hankies do in my kitchen).

* * *
Perhaps this is an older daydream than I've realized? Making decisions 10 seconds ago, via Behind the Stone Door, would keep me thinking well into an afternoon nap.

If you're a gardener, perhaps you know the feeling of utter desperation brought on by the waiting of success. It starts when you look around and realize there's no more space for vegetables. Sure you can weed in the Summer heat, but the anticipation of planning, the excitement of trying new edibles, it's all long gone. L. O. N. G. G. O. N. E.

It is the dramatic pause--the deep breath of the lead singer--before the chorus begins.

Except mine seems to be doom metal or something equally dark and sinister (maybe not metal , but perhaps something worse, oh. . . say, something by someone whose name rhymes with Harris Guilton). Just so wrong, so malnourished, so spindly and problematic you want to send it to therapy.

But what sort of therapy would really be productive at this point?

I'm pretty good at preaching the law of leave it alone and don't worry so much. But dammit those squash vine borers ripped through my zucchini faster than my typing fingers could research a solution on the world wide web.

The guy at the more expensive than necessary farm supply store up the road said he just got new zucchini plants in, because this is the week everybody rips theirs out and puts new ones in. Crappity crappity. So not only have I just compared my vegetable garden to the tabloid love child of '06, but I also learned it's functioning on normalcy. It's not as magical as I like to pretend.

From Mother Earth's womb I untimely ripped the vines and roots, pulled the vines apart, searching for the villainous borers, only to find the tunnels empty. I guess that means they've already turned to moths and that next year I need to remember my little lesson on crop rotation to avoid recreating this little horror sequence.

So therein lies a question: Do I replant? Do I leave it alone? Do I go out and buy more plants to feel better and remind myself of the exciting potential of gardening? I'll let you guess. . .

party. travel. travel. party.

Hopefully I'm just fashionably late for the party, not missed the boat late, but I just joined GoodReads.


I haven't done anything with my account yet, but hopefully I'll remember to. I need to look back into that other site that was a book trade sight. . .hmmm. I don't even remember what that one was called.

Yellow Canoe has a new design coming out and I'm already eying one for my parent's beach house. Then there's this $12.50 necklace that I'm drooling over, and the price is undeniably good. Snap it up? Ack! Deep questioning over needs and wants ensues.

El Gato Dice Meow is too much for this senorita to handle.

Crappity crap, got to get back on the no buy bandwagon.



Speaking of impossible, this weekend is the Indie Craft Experience, one of the best craft shows in the Southeast--no joke. If you can, come out and say, "Hi!" and just try to not buy anything, I dare you.
This is one of those shows where I purposefully try to stay in my booth the whole time or I'll end up spending all of the profits and gas money home. Yes. It's that good.

Still don't believe me? Wolfie and the Sneak (below right) will be parked right next to Jess Gonacha (below left)--we're a double doozy of eye candy for your wall. Buy something from both of us, 'cause our work was born to hang together. (get it? ok, sorry, that was a bad pun.)

rebel rebel

{click here for large version}
{click here for sources}

Several months ago, a couple friends and I applied for a small community grant through the local arts and science council. Word is, we got it! I'll tell you more about it soon, but the pictures above and the links below are some of the things I'm thinking about these days.

Today's resources of inspiration:
Another Limited Rebellion

Homegrown Evolution

Usufruct/Ejido

How to Homestead

hello, it's me down here under this rock

It's probably not surprising to you (if the thought has ever crossed your mind, and no, I don't expect it has) that I haven't had beets since I was a little girl with an enviable bowl haircut.
Until last night, when I discovered: Beets are good! And so is quinoa! And together, they're incredible! I sprinkled them with olive oil and salt then roasted the beets on 250 for 4 hours. They were peeled and cubed them, sprinkled with salt and a little lemon juice and ready for the munch down. The quinoa was cooked with veggie broth, also sprinkled with a bit of lemon juice and a healthy dose of feta cheese. It would've been good without the cheese, but it actually made the dish much "meatier" tasting, which is good for getting the Mr. to eat it.
Then there were the sauteed onions, garlic and veggie sausage. Salty and flavorful, a nice offset to the tartness and earthiness of the beets and quinoa. It was a hit! The carnivore cleaned his plate! Success!

With all this cooking, though, where is the time for art?? My hands are constantly crusted with dirt (and now my nails are stained from the beets), and I'd like to add a layer of ink and paint to them, too. With all this eating, where is the time for living?!?

New distractions: picnik (yes, still. it's new to me and novel. and soooo much better than paint, which was my only option here at work for a while.)

Cooking, cooking, cooking.

Waiting for our corn to sprout. Although, thanks to the Omnivore's Dilemma, I feel pretty guilty about planting it in the first place. Oh well.

Things that I want: To do when I grow up: Be a full time draw-er. Speak another language fluently. Live elsewhere. (Hello Charlotte, you're bad art bloomers are showing again. I'm really embarrassed for you. Please, in the future, at least try to disguise your cultural ineptness so the rest of us don't feel the need to crawl under rocks and hide.)

Somethings of reasonable fortitude: Shunning the morning bagel. This morning it was replaced with beets and quinoa (leftovers).

barely opening my eyes

I'm oozing mucous down the back of my throat--the allergies are getting me down, I guess. My eyes are barely open and after a short but all too lengthy battle with caffeine, I lost. This morning I'm on my second cup and it's not doing a damn thing.

Since I have my night reading (I think I've had 50 more pages to read for the last 2 weeks, what's up with that?), I've been listening to The Omnivore's Dilemma, and despite sounding like a heretic, I'm 1/6 of the way into it (section 25 out of 150 or something like that) and I'm really getting annoyed with all the corn talk. Pollan's writing is something of a bible for the food trends catching on, so I don't want to skip anything, but at the same time, enough of the corn already. Perhaps it's listening rather than reading, hearing another voice read is a lot like listening to a preacher--it just doesn't sit well with me. Rather, it makes me sleepy. Nappy time in the car is not good.

I spent the greater part of Saturday morning sitting in itchy grass, staining my legs and hands, picking dandelions. I'm sure I evoked suspicion of my sanity from neighbors, since the back yard abuts a fairly buys street, but it was good to get outside and do something. And it was especially good to do something that made me feel so much like a 5 year old playing house. This was all for the sake of a couple handfuls of dandelion buds, to become something of an experiment in foraging: dandelion bud capers. The process is a combination of this recipe and several recipes for nasturtium capers.

There was also a pie from scratch, simply to clear out the cabinets for the upcoming canning season. Not too long ago I finished a table out of a candle holder from West Elm and a wooden cutting board from Crate and Barrel (both on clearance, total price less than $50), took a shoe cubby shelf that was just causing clutter in the studio, added some legs and made more storage for the kitchen, and used up the. last. jar. of tomatoes from last year. Not good considering I still haven't seen the beginning of a blossom on the tomatoes yet. What will I do??? Grocery store tomatoes?? No way.

New distractions: picnik
Cooking, cooking, cooking.
Anything yellow or green, or both together is even better.

Things that I want: To do when I grow up: Run a health food store that incorporates the revitalizing spirit of art and music (but not in that new agey way) , as well as locally sourced goods.
To build for myself: a greenhouse of modest measures.
Somethings of reasonable fortitude: Losing weight, remembering to take my vitamins, and absorbing some natural vitamin D while I absorb the beautiful world around me. That is, if I can ever get my eyes open

un-impossibilities and strategeries

Oh lazy Sundays.

You spoil me so much I'm frowning, dreaming of
you still, all the way til Wednesday.

Yesterday was Primary Tuesday, friends. We, here in NC, got to participate in the primaries. So rare. Except (don't hate me for saying this) I feel like I don't care one way or the other. Hillary or Barack. I like both of them. I believe the huff n puff of all this election stuff (the blaming, mud slinging, campaigning) doesn't really reflect what will happen once the newbie takes office.

Perhaps my cynicism is inconsistent with my general outlook on life.

I've been working out in the yard, no big milestones to speak of, though. That's good, though. The big stuff can be a huge distraction from visiting the small things that make up our memories and dreams.

I think our dreams are depleted enough as we age, we all need to take a few moments out of the day to dream a little more grandly.

I'd say that would be a new goal, but that seems self defeating.

I will vow, however, to practice along the way, when the moments are right.

My kindergarten teacher, Ms. Poplin, told us that nothing is impossible.

Of course, at 5 or 6 you don't know physics yet or the principles that keep us secure on the ground, but the moral of the story is:
DREAM.

Speaking of dreaming (inserting ugly, self-promoting plug here) there are some new pieces in the shop. All new prints are done on 100% cotton paper, which has a gorgeous bright finish that absorbs the inks beautifully, keeping them bright, sharp, and archival.