Mo

moses loves that his birthday falls in the luckiest of lucky charms months.  green is his favorite color.

Moses turned nine this week.  Here are two things about him:

more shamrock-themed birthday times.

1) Three weeks ago, he discontinued kissing me on the lips.  Some of you will be relieved to hear this.  He at first cloaked it in the excuse that he didn't "want to make me sick," but it was pretty obvious that he's finally figured out that kissing your mom good-bye isn't super cool.  I realize it's time for him to move on, but I can't help feel a bit sad.

lucky rainbow sans pot o' gold.

2)  When he was born, i was convinced he would be dark haired and olive-skinned.  i don't know why. when i first saw his blonde hair and blue eyes,  i think i said something like, "wow, he looks like brad pitt!"  

he's a handsome little dude, and looks almost identical to his father.

march mood: angsty baby chicks

today's baby chick craft project

only my outsized sense of duty is making me write a post tonight. 

i don't have too much to say after yesterday's mammoth blog post.

& i miss the inspiration of my blogging partner who's on leave for a while as she deals with the loss of her father. 

here's a list of my day:

1) rehearsed lalage with c.  six new (hard) songs.  good ones.  one song made me cry, no, sob, actually. (8.45 a.m.)
2) got pictures taken of my boobs ((no, not the those kind of pictures, the kind in the office with the pink ribbons everywhere that make you sad.)) (10.40 a.m.)
3) museum of art gift shop--birthday present shopping for my 5 siblings and one mother-in-law who all had birthdays recently--if by recently you mean starting in january.  i'm going to arizona to visit them next week, so i thought i'd do it in an efficient sweep.  the gift shop has rad free gift wrapping.  (11.08)
4) birthday lunch with bam at noon.  molly's.  a cafeteria-style restaurant with a mormon sunday dinner menu.  i had pot roast and bread pudding and they make a tasty cheese biscuit.  the kind of place at which ladies of a certain age love to lunch.  (12 noon)
5) macey's for strawberries and cadbury eggs. (1.10 p.m.)
6) home to make the above pictured felt chicks with activity day girls. (2 p.m.)
7) laid on the couch and made a list of stuff i gotta do, talked to kids, tried to help cecily find a friend who is "mature" and "doesn't like to play stupid things." (3.30 p.m.)
8) yoga. (4.30 p.m.)
9) bought pizza for kids (6 p.m.)
10) el salvador for pupusas, plantains with beans and cream, chicken/yucca tamales with mom, dad, aunt b., sister & her new hubby. (6. 45 p.m.)
11) sub-zero for ice cream (8.30 p.m.)
12) ran through sixth new song with c. (10 p.m.)
13) sat on couch thinking of stuff to blog about, feeling sadhappy.  a very march mood. yesnoyesnoyesno.

legwear:  boots & bare legs

inspiration:  duty--sheer grit

looking forward:  not much at the moment, but it'll get better, right?

DOUBLE tights give away, girls and boys

holey tights for a warm day, or layered over another pair for a chilly day

sheer blue micro-netted tights with a wild rose pattern

1)  enter by 31 march at midnight by leaving a comment.

2)  we're changing up the rules a bit for march.  this is not a random drawing--this contest is MERIT BASED.  the cleverest comment wins,  and "cleverness" will be determined by an esteemed guest judge selected from our pool of rad guest bloggers.

3)  you can enter once for each pair of tights.  we will select two winners.

i went to the sock store looking for daffodil yellow tights (in honor of julie) for spring, but alas there were no yellow tights to be found.  i did find the beautiful pair of royal blue tights on the right (sheer with a micro-netting and a wild rose pattern) and, as i was exiting the store, saw those rad holey tights on the mannequin.  on a whim, i went back in and bought them.

i thought they looked like they could give you some room to breathe.

like you wouldn't have to sit down on the sidewalk (like julie did last week) in front of the guggenheim and peel them off when the day warmed up.

or, as we are prone to freak spring snowstorms in utah, you could layer them over some other rad patterned tight if you encountered a winter spring day.

plus, as we've discussed, march seems to be a difficult month for a lot of us generally.  like hairdresser on fire--check her out.  to get through march this year, she's accessorizing her hair every day.  to get through march i'm cooking like a crazy woman.    to get through march. . .  i'll let julie tell you herself how she's getting through her particularly hellish march.

march is an exciting and dreary, sunny and gray, helluva bi-polar month.  it has holes in it.  one day, a magritte blue sky.  one day a freezing windy rain.  one day optimism, one day dread that you'll never make it to summer.

but you will.  and you'll be extra rad in a pair of GITP tights.

and we'll feel extra rad reading your comments.

so write something for our comments section, babies!  write!

i have always been both

something to read tomorrow morning:

 

Late March

by Edward Hirsch

 

Saturday morning in late March.

I was alone and took a long walk,   

though I also carried a book

of the Alone, which companioned me.

The day was clear, unnaturally clear,

like a freshly wiped pane of glass,

a window over the water,

and blue, preternaturally blue,

like the sky in a Magritte painting,

and cold, vividly cold, so that

you could clap your hands and remember

winter, which had left a few moments ago—

if you strained you could almost see it

disappearing over the hills in a black parka.

Spring was coming but hadn't arrived yet.

I walked on the edge of the park.

The wind whispered a secret to the trees,

which held their breath

and scarcely moved.

On the other side of the street,

the skyscrapers stood on tiptoe.

I walked down to the pier to watch

the launching of a passenger ship.

Ice had broken up on the river

and the water rippled smoothly in blue light.

The moon was a faint smudge   

in the clouds, a brushstroke, an afterthought

in the vacant mind of the sky.

Seagulls materialized out of vapor

amidst the masts and flags.

Don't let our voices die on land,

they cawed, swooping down for fish

and then soaring back upwards.

The kiosks were opening

and couples moved slowly past them,

arm in arm, festive.

Children darted in and out of walkways,

which sprouted with vendors.

Voices greeted the air.

Kites and balloons. Handmade signs.

Voyages to unknown places.

The whole day had the drama of an expectation.

Down at the water, the queenly ship

started moving away from the pier.

Banners fluttered.   

The passengers clustered at the rails on deck.

I stood with the people on shore and waved

goodbye to the travelers.

Some were jubilant;

others were broken-hearted.

I have always been both.

Suddenly, a great cry went up.

The ship set sail for the horizon

and rumbled into the future

but the cry persisted

and cut the air

like an iron bell ringing

in an empty church.

I looked around the pier

but everyone else was gone

and I was left alone   

to peer into the ghostly distance.   

I had no idea where that ship was going

but I felt lucky to see it off

and bereft when it disappeared.

 

 

legwear:  black lace leggings

 

inspiration: blue march days

 

looking forward: a dinner party

Olek on Orchard

 

I had no plans to run into Olek, was not expecting any Olek in my day, but winding my way back home, and not wanting to go home, I ducked into a gallery that happened to be housing a new Olek constructed of long tight balloons loosely crocheted. It will be up through April 10 at the Krause Gallery. 

The gallery guy told me that broken or deflated balloons would not be replaced and because that each day the installation is bound to be slightly different--just like our bodies.  Because we're the same right? Robust and flexible--but mutable and fragile.

 Running into good art always makes me feel like my day was was lived.

 I have to hold onto this experience as I duck into this tight week.

 

   

The Patron Saint of the Mentally Ill

St. Dymphna's on St. Patrick's:  11:00 am and relatively calm

Every St. Patrick's Day--for over a decade--I try to get to St. Dymphna's, an Irish pub in my neighborhood.  (I don't think I made it last year, though.) When St. Patrick's falls on a Saturday, this can be difficult.  Today the entire city today was teaming with revelers (they're still out there, of course) looking for a spot at an Irish bar (or a bar riding the Irish bandwagon for the day) or an Irish table.  Most of these revelers were reveling  in green tees and "wacky" socks and/or jeans (although I did see a few pairs of green tights), and annoyingly (as I'm a bit of an aesthetic fascist), headbands sprouting shamrock antenna.

As you know, I love holidays, but I hate the whole tacky Americanization of this holiday, and so try to stick close to the rusticity of St. Dymphna's, which was teeming with Guinness-swilling revelers and more than one NYC firefighter fresh from the 5th Avenue parade in their dress uniform.

By the way, do you know about St. Dymphna?  Her story is so tragic!  According to her story, she was the quintessential girl in a tight place.  And so I honor her this very trying month.

At the bottom, I've embedded a video from fellow neighborhood parent and Irish recording artist Susan McKeown singing with her daughter.  Another good song for my March.

(Don't forget to click on the twitpics below to see them bigger and better!)

I photographed this group for nearly an hour.

   

On the outside looking in.  Vinegar on the tables!

Irish breakfast, veg version.  No blood sausage here!  Note the pot of Irish breakfast tea and the basket that came filled with soda bread.

   

St. Dymphna's at 4:00 pm.  

   

Webster Hall at 11:15 am was teaming with white generic millenials.

 

Mary O's on Ave A.  Mary O is a lovely Irish national who is always friendly.  Note how basic Irish cuisine is.  Folks making do with what they had:  potatoes, cabbage and more potatoes.  

my hairdresser says everything will be turkish this year

 
this is probably my favorite movie of all time.  check out the relevant scene beginning at 38:13 until about 40:00.

it's march.  know what that means?  right.  time to pin down 2012's first quarter trends.
 
1) fasting--every day for seven days some one has mentioned fasting in my presence.  two people said it improved their migraines, one person their allergies, i heard about it from two different yogis, both irl and online, and radio west had an hour long program on fasting this week.  i'm calling this one.  it's an official trend in white people problem solving (migraines, allergies, body hatred in general.  is that too harsh, too sweeping a claim,  or is it wrong?)

2) savory sweets-- seriously,  people, has anyone been to a serious eatery in the past year that didn't offer a dessert featuring sea salt, chilis, or herbs?  think about it and get back to me.  i remember a couple years ago the ny times fleur de sel chocolate chip cookies were big, but i think 2012 took the movement of savory sweets into full swing.  lula made these rosemary cookies yesterday, and i just ran into this savory/sweet roasted chick pea today.  i would venture to say that if you're an old school piece of chocolate cake ungarnished with a salted carmel or a red chili/dark chocolate ganache, then you're a laughingstock of a dessert.

3) mid-calf skirts/lady clothes--i've been seeing them on julie's blog, in the mags, and then when e. and a. came to visit for spring break, and came home from the deseret industries laden down with arms full of 90's sisters in zion skirts and dresses, i figured the deal was already done.  i'm preparing my self for jumpers, frankenstein shoes, and shortskirts/long jackets.  this has probably been going on for ages in n.y.  we're slow to adopt and slow to let go of trends out here in the wild west.  i won't complain, though, as the 90's were pretty damn good to me.

4) barre workouts--you already know how devoted i am to yoga.  it's changed my mind, my heart, my life.  but some time soon, something new will take root.  there are all these people hating on yoga lately, like here in the ny times (btw, i don't condone this article.  if you care, ask me for my rebuttals), and then there's a lot of talk of barre workouts.  i like to think yoga is true and real, and not just a trend.  we'll see.

5) alternative grains and flours-- & not just for gluten allergies any more.  folks are exploring some rad flavors and textures in quinoa, nut flours, chickpea flour, rice flour, and i'm sure lots of other stuff i haven't worked with yet.  i'm all for experimentation and bio-diversity, but also look askance at poor people's food that is suddenly selling for 11 bucks a pound at whole foods.  nevertheless, i'm making this recipe as soon as i procure 7 cups of walnuts.

6) jeremy lin--i have nothing whatsoever to say about sports, but if i've heard of an athlete & i know what sport (s)he plays, the trend is perhaps already over.  plus i need to get all the way up to ten things on this list.  this one's an act of desperation.

7) pinterest--like sports, i don't do crafts, but apparently there's more than just craft(work) ((craftwork=satan?)) on this site.  a lot of people i respect are devotees.  i may become one yet, especially because yesterday my co-work sauntered into lunch and made me uber-jealous by eating this idea from pinterest:

8) salad in a mason jar--on the bottom layer of the jar marinates mushrooms and avacado in vinaigrette.  clearly the mushrooms are becoming plump and savory while the avocadoes are refraining from turning brown.  wickering atop the mushrooms and avocadoes is a layer of red peppers looking beautiful and also adding some sweet crunch.  then a light frost of crumbled roquefort protected by a roof of spring greens.  when you're ready to eat, upend the jar to distribute the vinaigrette.  clearly anything in a mason jar is of the moment.

9) having crushes on ugly people--i heard that this is a thing from my college-aged daughters, and who am i to question their wisdom? plus i've always believed it myself, and i love it when a thing i approve of already becomes a trend.  remember the opera singer in amadeus? "oh, but herr salieri, looks don't interest me! only talent interests a woman of taste." (when salieri questioned her crush on the apparently unattractive mozart) ((check out the clip up top)).  i've always found steve buscemi and bill murray quite attractive, and, though i would never date him because he's clearly a d-bag, woody allen seems to have no shortage of hot dates.  also, in the t.v. world, there's nurse jackie and her younger, hotter husband.  

yay for ugly women with hot men.

10) kale-- i mean,  i never personally want to eat this green without frying it in a big scoop of bacon fat, but all the healthy white people are drinking it, making soup with it, baking it into chips, and letting it soften in lemon juice and eating it raw.  





legwear:  black tights, before it got too hot and i had to take them off

inspiration:  the cultural markers of 2012

looking forward: to hearing simon shaheen play tonight

Peacock Boots/Denim "Tights"

I hope you click on the above Twitpic (worst newish coined word ever) so you can see the larger better version of the photo I took of these slamming burned-out velvety peacock boots that were distracting meat Cafe Ost.

The boot owner's jeans were skinny enough to be denim tights. I'm going to be mini-blogging (which is the cutest newish coined word ever) here for the the next ten days or so.

March is tightening; a lot will be expected of me soon.

Super Tights Tuesday

March is turning out to be a series of hoops to jump through, and I'm beginning to feel a bit like a Republican presidential candidate with my constant prep and pressure to be "on" during much of my waking hours.

After jumping through a big hoop today, I felt like I deserved some new spring tights--so I swung by a tights place and got some. Also, I was so overheated in the woolen ones I had put on that morning that I stopped into a cafe to change. Is that weird? Don't answer that. But don't be jealous (even though I look like I have to make a mad dash to the restroom). GITP readers can obtain these very tights at the Swedish-orginating chain, which is not IKEA. I also don't want people to think I'm going to be un-ascetically rewarding myself throughout March.
Because there's nothing more attractive than asceticism, right??

Speaking of asceticism, we had no food in the house so we ended up at the friendly, yet mediocre diner on the corner. On the way we passed this fabulous Nick Hornby novel languishing on top of a dumpster cage. It looked so forlorn I had to photograph it. Someone please rescue it and give it a read!

 Then in the diner, I had a Woody Allen in Annie Hall moment when the bearded hipsters at the adjacent table behind me yammered on about "experimental film," so I naughtily scribbled what they said on an envelope from my mother:

 "I want to have actors in my films who no one knows."

 "I want to break down the fourth wall."

 "I found it cheaply poetic."

 "Brad Pitt. Brad Pitt. Every time he's in a movie, like I can't stop seeing Brad Pitt! It's like he has a tag on his shirt."

 "The niche for experimental cinema exists right now."

"The dream of the '60s is alive in Greenpoint." 

"When I see ads that have been vandalized, I love it."

 John Cassavetes was mentioned several times, of course. It was one of the most delightful eavesdropping experiences I've ever had.

In honor of the '60s, my paisley tights, Nick Hornby's rock music novel, and Women's History Month I give you this artist this evening (er, from 1970), and she has really good leg wear to boot!:

Mellowing Your Harsh

I'm glad Lara's doing this with me, so you'll have something good to read!

Tonight has been a perfect storm of family members with homework crises, overseen by a mom (that's me!) trying to hack my way out of a mountain of student papers.  To heighten the drama, e're having printing problems, and we really could use one more computer in the house, given the fact the other adult here has lots of computer-based paper work, and one of our two computers also functions as a TV.

Before your face hits the keyboard from reading the above paragraph, please watch the video below.  First a preface:  a year ago, on Facebook, I posted a different female musician every day in March for Women's History Month.  Everyday felt like a celebration--and people loved it.

This year my March has been so fraught, that I completely forgot--until I read today's awesome post by Lara.

 Part of the function of this blog is to keep myself from forgetting! To not let one day of misery melt into another! To keep my days from being miserable!  To have at least one good and creative thing happen during each day's waking hours.

So in kind of an exhausted tribute to what I did last year, here's a some '70s era Bonnie Raitt to mellow whatever harsh you, too, may be experiencing on a Sunday night: