tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76424176203479047982024-02-20T23:49:46.184-08:00Everything but the SquealInspiration + Making
(Travel, Cooking, Memoir, Knitting, Crafting,Food, Making, Cartography, Geography, Gardening, Natural History, Political Economy, History, San Francisco) Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.comBlogger192125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-64067881281692006112014-10-11T14:06:00.000-07:002014-11-06T09:06:12.990-08:00Back to Bikram
Yesterday, first time in almost 2 years. You do what you have to do to survive... and what that is-- what it takes to survive, changes over time.
Pleasant surprise that while Triangle, as always, gave me problems, I was able to stay in the room and didn't fall out of any poses. I was able to do toe stand, full extension of standing bow, etc. Of course, my body didm't feel "right" in some of Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-25491842380519019932013-06-01T09:54:00.000-07:002014-11-06T15:41:21.382-08:00American Gates
I remember quite clearly the first time I visited
North Africa—it was a school trip to Tunisia. But somehow I don’t remember that
much novelty to the visit. Oh sure, I spent a lot of time kissing a boy I had a
huge crush on, and I drank too much (there is no drinking age in Tunisia,
certainly not for blonde American girls with cash in their pockets), and that
was new, or new-ish, and certainlyKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-46837260646873552502012-04-30T07:46:00.001-07:002014-10-08T11:17:08.543-07:00Covering all the bases
This year I tried some german organic easter egg dye along side the last of the food coloring capsules I found in the cupboard. I don't think the colors were notably different, except for a beautiful peacocky/turquoise blue we got out of the german dye. Perhaps it looked so vibrant because the blue was on the lone white egg we had. I think that is my greatest lesson learned: rubber bands, Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-62472036094292775392012-01-12T19:19:00.000-08:002014-10-08T11:23:53.137-07:00This time of year
I was peddling my way to the pool this morning when I smelled... freshness, green, pine cones. I looked around, quickly, confused-- there are no trees on that leg of 16th street, going towards Mission Bay.... or any leg of 16th street, honestly. All I saw was a garbage truck.
And then I got it: this is the time of year, the one time of year garbage trucks smell good. Like freshly mulched Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-78241812645575677932011-11-09T09:22:00.000-08:002014-10-12T14:27:24.404-07:00New Season (s)
I was thinking this was the beginning of bouncy-house season (we have 3 more coming up in the next 6 weeks),
but really, I am enjoying ollaliberry-jam-thumbprint season too much.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-72759181493317295962011-03-07T07:20:00.000-08:002014-10-12T14:25:47.300-07:00Crispity Spring Eggs
My son and husband went to the farmer’s market last week. They came home sad and empty handed. It had been bleak, desolate they said. What crops there were there were big piles of: crops pulled for fear of the heavy frost.
We ate more meat than usual last week; it was warm many days and rainy a few but the frost and snow passed.
This Saturday my son and I went to the market, and the Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-77015767921748330352011-03-02T08:36:00.000-08:002014-10-12T14:26:12.421-07:00New beginningsI always love the idea of projects. Starting them, though, I find difficult. I always worry that I haven't started in the right way, will I have enough time to work on it as mindfully as I like, etc. I think that is part of why I like cooking projects: I have enough skills to be able to evaluate the directions, and enough tools to be able to pickup whatever project I want whenever I’d like.
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-23832135527715827252011-02-28T08:45:00.000-08:002014-10-12T14:28:25.029-07:00(Moving towards) No Bags or Boxes
I love my friend Stacy’s mother’s food mantra: no bags or boxes.
It’s a goal I strive for, and habitually fall short of, thanks in large part to one culprit: Mac n Cheese. My son is addicted, it is so easy to just use a box, and Annie’s doesn’t contain chemical dyes (I am terrified of red dye and the correlation with ADD).
I’ve found a couple of likely (baked) Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-48940665552763963582011-02-25T08:17:00.000-08:002014-10-12T14:30:31.357-07:00Goldfish Season, againSoulemama {this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment
(Hope they survive the snow!)Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-84817491112407005582011-02-24T09:41:00.000-08:002014-10-12T14:30:13.954-07:00It Takes a Village
After writing yesterday about being able to walk to so much stuff I had the pleasant experience of realizing I’d left some stuff off the list. My son has been extremely sick the past week-- and I am dragging along, too. But luckily, we live on the south side of San Francisco, the city of villages.
We took the car to the Doctor’s, but it is less than 2 Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-3760104599679174582011-02-23T07:43:00.000-08:002011-02-23T07:43:25.195-08:00We'll get there when we get there
My son LOVES buses. Telling him we are going to take a bus ride is like telling him we are going on a rollercoaster. I guess in San Francisco they are somewhat similar.
I have had a more mixed relationship with public transportation. I took it everwhere growing up. In Europe, public transportation is in general much better defined, has broader coverage, is more Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-56622602595589325622011-02-21T09:37:00.000-08:002014-10-12T14:31:12.106-07:00Baah
When J was smaller, we only gave him goat’s milk. It must have been for the year between 1 and 2: before 1 he only had Mama’s milk, and after 2 we transitioned to “regular” (cow) milk.
I tasted it a few times--used it in coffee when we’d run out of our own milk, once just out of curiosity.
It tasted like a richer, grassier milk-- but like milk. We’d given it to J because the fat moleculesKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-76146090173230860322011-02-18T08:07:00.000-08:002011-02-18T08:07:13.389-08:00JoyFrom Soulemama:
{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-89953166036943643772011-02-17T11:20:00.000-08:002014-10-12T14:33:51.879-07:00Non-sugaryMy boy loves stamps, stamping and being stamped. He came home from dance class this week with butterfly stamps all over his belly (what a long bath that made for!).
So I really wish I’d seen this tutorial earlier. Nonetheless, it’s definitely an idea we will use sometime in the future.
Instead, we made paper hearts. I have to confess I am a bit baffled by all the candy valentine’s you see Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-85004044935096578972011-02-16T07:33:00.000-08:002011-02-16T12:15:28.785-08:00Do the repair
An older, wise woman friend of mine likes to say to me, when I am going on and on about being annoyed with this,or that “Did you do the repair?”. So often when something bothers us, stirs something up, it is pushing a button, returning us to an ancient hurt. But so often, too, the complaining and the kvetching is because we want to ignore our own part in things, our responsibility. But, we canKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-66702425745377245042011-02-15T10:44:00.000-08:002014-10-12T14:32:05.394-07:00A Kind of Urban Love Song
When I was about 4, we moved to Italy. We moved to Rome; our new house was across the street from Villa Borghese, a huge park, the former country house of the Prince of Rome... The scale, compared to the size of the city, is that of GoldenGate Park, or Central Park.
We moved to Rome in February, from London. It had just snowed that winter, in London, the first timeKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-69783784212611032532011-02-14T07:40:00.000-08:002011-02-21T09:27:50.385-08:00Rainy Monday
I am totally immersed in this book, Goat Song, right now. It is so beautifully written, so evocative. Part of what I like is that he goes so slow. He describes the color of the grass the goats ate, the 10 different shades in the sky as the sun set the first night. For me, this level/layers of description really allow me to be there. And it is a very peaceful, soul warming book.
I went to a Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-63762951208629661952011-02-10T07:06:00.000-08:002011-02-10T07:06:00.915-08:00More Home Design Avoidance....
I am sadly contemplating turning my son's beloved nursery into a big(ger) boy room. The walls are a purple-y gray, and the rug yellow. I LOVE these colors together; I got the idea from my beloved cat, Mingus, who is gray with yellow eyes. He always makes me feel safe, calm, and happy: exactly what I wanted for my baby. There are some blue and green highlights in there, too, just to give the (Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-81559524306613659052011-02-09T17:06:00.000-08:002011-02-23T10:42:11.814-08:00Projects....
Mostly because I am avoiding (with dread) the next steps on my never-ending bathroom project (and avoiding the disgusting photos, thankyouverymuch), I am casting about for other home projects.
This looks great for reviving my battered but beloved danish modern dining room table & ancient Barcalounger.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-44032598296178725352011-02-07T07:20:00.000-08:002014-10-12T14:32:25.413-07:00An Early Spring
I thought it was too early to call this Spring,but after 2.5 weeks of being over 65 degrees, oh say 90% of the time
(2-3 cold days in there), I am thinking it is true: a very early spring.
20 years from now will we look back on this year as a harbringer of things to come? I remember visiting San Francisco 15 years ago- the first time ever. It was Late February, and 60s Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-48728004723680815162011-02-04T07:48:00.000-08:002011-02-04T07:48:23.164-08:00Pilot and Co-Pilot
From Soulemama: {this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-39513748895423069002011-02-02T14:35:00.000-08:002011-02-02T14:35:06.729-08:00Two down, one to go
“Your children are either the center of your life or they’re not, and the rest is commentary.”
-Calvin TrillinKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-78776274502796706802011-02-01T07:36:00.000-08:002011-02-01T07:36:21.790-08:00Finish Line
I am almost done with our preschool applications,which have consumed 90% of my time since Thursday-- I misread a due date on one of them (today, not the end of the month), and have decided to just knock them all off at once. It weird, writing these pitch letters for my son, telling them "he's the king" (really, he is!)...describing our family, our traditions (the crowns Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-21122429081000295162011-01-28T07:22:00.000-08:002011-02-01T07:36:57.399-08:00Transmission
La Latest at La Local....Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7642417620347904798.post-52167810883650255012011-01-25T07:40:00.000-08:002011-01-25T07:40:35.489-08:00Lost in the Music
I have been afloat on a sea of music, lately. Like I haven't been since I was a teenager, maybe. Oh sure, I've listened to music since then, sometimes with some intensity, but not like this.
Sitting down with a few records(ok, mp3's),lyric sheets, following influences and cliques and themes and trajectories .... jackson 5 to jay z to kanye to bon iver to feist. It is not rocket science, but Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09277870339832290222noreply@blogger.com0