internet quote of the day

from Jezebel:

Donna Karan's new fragrance Delicious Night, is said to smell like "the magic of New York at night." Oh, Donna, trust us: New York at night smells like stale Parliaments, cheap wine, sweat, and, er, bad decisions. [WWD, sub req'd]


Wait. That's what the magic of Lyndale Ave at night smells like. Except exchange stale parliaments for Camel Lights and cheap wine for the remnants of the bad lines at Mortimer's.

Take me out.

so, how did you spend your tuesday afternoon? I'm getting my baseball on. And my sunburn. And a bellyfull of Summit. Ah, the summer life is good.

WIPs

Ladies night!

Reasons why I like the balance of T and F in my ENTP personality.

To handle yourself, use your head; to handle others, use your heart.
(Donald Laird)

(don't know what the hell I'm talking about when I say ENTP? It's not a disease, promise. It's actually my Myers-Briggs personality type.)

tastes like grandma?

Look... Tomacco!

local blogging: does a body (of community) good.

Metroblogging (a twin cities blog collective to which I belong) gets mentioned in the SW Journal.


I blog because I like to write... I'm not in it as my career and I'm not interested in 15 minutes of fame. But it feels nice to have a collaborative effort get some mention, anyway.

Life Lesson #4453: an urbanwanderlust PSA.

This is what happens when you mix a crazy family with a little sadness and perhaps a mojito. Don't let it happen to you.

mmm mmm good.

Palm-sized strawberries make me smile.

additionally...

61, originally uploaded by Inflatigirl.

Some more rocks with history.
(Diana's, from Oxford... I was there, too. It was fabulous. And puts the history of the cabin rocks in a whole different light.)

I'm (mostly) done being philisophical now.

Rocks

It's been one hell of a weekend, and it's made me think a lot about rocks.

(This photo is one of those Ireland pictures I took a year ago. Also weird to think it's been a year since I took that trip... and what I different woman I am today. All things good, but just strange to think what a difference one year can make in your life.)

Why rocks, you say, Sarah?

For one, I've had the pleasure to get to know people who are rocks. There's been a bit of death rolling around in my life as of late (3 funerals in 2 months. Well, at least I know, in all likelihood, I'm done for a while. Deaths always come in 3s). I look at the people who carry on after death -- and especially strong women like DTs grandma, who has buried 4 babies, a full-grown son, and now, 2 husbands... and I wonder how she's not a pile of catatonic goo. She's my hero, in many ways. And Diana is right ... you don't know what you can handle until it gets thrusted onto you ... but wow.

I'm also thinking of rocks that sit in the path you walk. Are they barriers? Are they detours? Are they there purposefully ... like milestones, maybe? And is someone else's milestone my barrier? Or vice versa? I don't have any answers to this. It just gets me to thinking.

On Memorial Day weekend, my family picked rocks at the (new) cabin. We stacked those rocks around the (new) cabin, in an effort to prevent erosion and to make the (new) cabin look a little more like it belongs there (right now, it just looks like an awkward giant mansion where my childhood forest used to sit). I always think of the lifespan of a rock when I pick it up... how much its seen that I will only read about in texts, how many future generations of Sarah Green progeny have the ability to pick it up and muse the same thoughts. It was also a bonding experience: all the Greens placing stones around a house that will carry our matriach and patriarch into their well-deserved retirement. A house that will become a home with time and memories. A resting place to enjoy children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, a place to be quiet and reflect. A place to enjoy the fruits of a lifetime of labor. We all reinforced that foundation; we all buttressed the place that will shelter the man and woman who shaped each of us. It was neat, and a bit poetic, and a bit dirty. Blue-collar and homegrown and honest. Just like the family I hold so dear.

DTs is trying to teach Paige how to skip rocks. And Paige started trying to skip rocks when my dad (AKA Papa) taught her how to throw rocks into the lake, as a way of getting her to not be scared of the water and a way to help her enjoy the lake when she can't be in her swimsuit. This gets me thinking about how much I want to give Paige -- that she deserves an army of interconnected people who love her -- and how, perhaps even though I angst about providing everything I can for her, giving her a better childhood, making better memories... in spite of (or is it because of) my angst ... she's got that army. And I think it's much more her doing than mine. But I still feel compelled to do everything I can to make sure she's absolutely surrounded by people who love and support Essential Paige, and ask nothing more of her than that. I have my moments of doubt about the job I'm doing, but she's turning out lovely in spite of me. So maybe that's saying something.

The rock in my sandal last night made me bike goofy all the way to Grumpy's (in the skirt I recently sewed). But I was sorta proud of biking through my neighborhood (in a skirt) anyhow. It make me feel smart and adorable and very Sarah. Plus, the u-lock clunking in the purse against my back made me feel all kinds of sexy.

Finally, I made strawberry jam in my sweet little kitchen yesterday afternoon to the artistic styling of Art Brut's Bang Bang Rock and Roll. I'm inherently domestic; I realize this, I embrace it. 40 pounds of strawberries, some in a coffee cake, a ton of them in jam waiting to be jarred, 5 or so pounds in the freezer, and a bowlful waiting to be dipped into farmer's market chocolate. Mmm summer.

More Reasons I'm a Proud Mama.

Rocking out to brother ali during rush hour...

In lieu of actually documenting something meaningful about my existence...

INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so.

1) What Greg Likes
2) A Blog of a Good Time
3) bee-spot
4) I was told there would be bacon.
5) urbanwanderlust: roving observations of a city girl.


Now... select five people to tag:
1) Diana
2) Jana
3) Barbara
4) Mojo
5) s4xton (this is the... I don't know you, but like reading you, tag.)

What were you doing 10 years ago?

Working second-shift at a nursing home, writing letters every night to a boyfriend who was in basic training at the time, trying to decide on a major, learning my way around Minneapolis again, paying off my first car loan.

What were you doing 1 year ago?

Preparing for a trip to Ireland, saying goodbye to some of my favorite
co-workers who had just gotten laid off, furiously working on my thesis,
realizing I had all my stuff together (including the courage) to finally
get the Essential Sarah back.

Five snacks you enjoy:

1. Really fresh salty nuts.
2. Chunks of high-quality cheese.
3. any variety of fresh fruit (ooh. and pairing #2 and #3 together... genius.)
4. Cascade Fresh yogurt.
5. Right-out-of-the-garden snap peas or green beans.

Five songs you know all the lyrics to:

1. Son of a Preacher Man (Dusty Springfield)
2. Cattle and the Creeping Things (The Hold Steady)
3. Sweet Virginia (Gomez)
4. Bohemian Rhapsody (Queen)
5. Don't Get Around Much Anymore (thank you, Duke Ellington)
   

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:

1. Create a giant college trust fund for my wee lassie.
2. Pay (all) the bills. Off. And sit down with someone who can teach me how to live debt-free.
3. Buy a massive old house in a picturesque Minneapolis locale.
4. Take extravagant vacations all over the globe.
5. Give the Current more money.

Five bad habits:

1. Overcommitting.
2. Procrastinating.
3. Opening my mouth. Inserting foot.
4. Buying unnecessary pants over my lunch hour.
5. Chocolate.
   

Five things you like doing:

1. Baking. Cooking. Eating fruits of aforementioned labor.
2. Drinking.
3. Crafting. Then giving it away and letting the look on the recipient's face be my reward.
4. Playing outside.
5. Anything having to do with music.

Five things you would never wear again:

1. Neon.
2. Patterned spandex capris.
3. Wet and Wild blue eyeliner.
4. Acrylic sweaters.
5. Pleated pants.
   

Five favorite toys:

1. A 1983 gray Raleigh 10-speed.
2. The KitchenAid mixer.
3. My sewing machine.
4. The PaperSource bone folder.
5. An 80GB iPod.

I'm sorry.

So sorry.

So many wonderful (good and not-as-good) things to think on and write about and ponder, and I haven't written about a one of them.

I was under the impression I'd get less busy as a former grad student. Harumph, that didn't work at all.

Can I apologize by way of a short list?
(of course I can. My faithful 3 readers, you'll let me get away with that, right?)

Things I Have Learned Since Graduation

• Families, like the people they produce, are unique and wonderful.
• I think they way you are celebrated as you exit your life says a whole lot about who you were throughout.
• Small towns aren't where I want to live (necessarily), but they aren't anything to be scared of.
• It's damned hard to find a car everyone likes.
• I am a perfect fit for my new neighborhood.
• Even in the midst of a self-image crisis, being able to give away my old clothese to someone who needs them makes me feel like a beautiful goddess.
• You can always be busier. It's the slowing down that's hard.
• I am cursed to never grow decent rosemary.
• But I make a mean rhubarb custard (I am a killer meringue baker.)!
• Just when I think I'm not very strong, I prove it to myself otherwise.
• I'm doing a good job at work.
• I've got someone I realized I'm going to miss terribly this fall.
• But I also see that life takes you where you need to go, and it makes me excited.
• My daughter is going to learn how to read someday soon.
• When you build your life as a house of cards, it will fall down. It was only the illusion of grandeur to begin with.

Scandalous.

I (sorta) fear I was the girl having so-much-fun up front at the Tapes and Tapes show Sunday at Grand Old Day, that I might have annoyed you. I was having fun; but if I was overexuberant...

well, can you blame me, really? I had at my disposal:

• My dear friends
• Gin from a jam jar (OK, it was gin and tonic in Jana's water bottle. Drank from her purse. Even if it was a messenger bag.)
• Excellent Twin Cities music
• Warmth (read: humidity)
• Mild newbie successes at Guitar Hero
• Beer
• Sunburn
• A big fat stogie
• Anne's headband
• Jana's sunglasses
• Sass
• Corn dogs and husk-roasted corn on the cob
• A stolen cheese curd
• Flipflops (my powerwalking shoe of choice)
• A bazillion other happy Grand Old Day go-ers
• Basset Hound sightings
• Dreams of a band called Dudes with Boobs (Joel playing drums on that one)

Summer's here, kids. Make it scandalous, make it fun. Just make it memorable.

Basic training for baby tastebuds

There's a great recent NYT article on the 'kids menu' and how its onset has diminished the balanced palate in our children.

Author David Kamp points out:

meals are beige-yellow-ocher in color ... and ... are built around an entree in the breaded-chicken-nubbin family.

Yikes! Dude, you just described everything my finicky four-year-old eats. That's not acceptable. How will she ever learn to love asparagus? Or tilapia? or eggplant? and what about sushi?

I'm thoroughly disturbed, I say. And sort of feel like from now on, Paige is splitting dishes with me. If she's hungry enough, she'll eat.

up the skirt.

made you look. not necessarily up the skirt, per se, but an extreme close-up of the skirt, nonetheless. I am in love with this fabric, and wearing something I made... call me a giant dork, but there's no better feeling.

full-contact sewing with a kegerator within reach.

This is what happens when you put two women in a room with fabric from Crafty Planet, and easy skirt pattern, two sewing machines and a kegerator. The picture's blurry, but the skirt's adorable. Promise. (yes, that's me standing on a dining room chair at 11:30 on a Thursday.)

So excited to get back into making my own clothes again!

exactly.

This sums up my theory of the dining-room soul* nicely, actually:

I am thankful for the mess to clean after a party because it means I have been surrounded by friends.

— Nancie J. Carmody



*(if you don't know what I mean when I say dining room soul, that's OK. I'll get around to posting about it - eventually. basically, it means I strive to be the very best hostess I can be - that I try to make hospitality the gift I can always give to the people I l0ve - and that at the end of it all, my children and grandchildren and the people I knew will remember me for having that warm dining-room, dinner-party glow about me: that the one word that sums up my relationship with other people is something like welcoming, or hospitable, or inviting, or comforting, or accepting or... well, you get it.)