Dreambird Designs

Morocco List Three: Love/Hate

2009-11-14T14:09:00.000-08:00

(from my second day in Marrakech)

Things I love (so far):

Fresh-squeezed orange juice from the Djemaa el Fna stands. And the cheeky salesmen who try to sell it to you.
The men in the Fna who sell photos with monkeys, who, in their spare time, are sweet, affectionate, and tender with the adorable primates.
Bright yellow babush on all the men in celebration of the new year (Eid al Fitr)
The echos of the calls to prayer. [The main square of Marrakesh is outlined by five mosques that all have their own muezzins and stylized azans. If you sit at one of the outdoor cafes on Djema el Fna and listen at prayer time, it's a delicious sound--five simultaneous but out-of-sync melodic chantings echo past and through one another weaving an audible tapestry of prayer. In fact, one of the best parts of traveling around a Muslim country is to hear the vast varieties of azans from city to city and even mosque to mosque. Some are clearly recorded and replayed five times daily, while others are pure art.]
Mint tea with extra sugar. [Mint tea is an ART in Morocco. The step by step of this is worthy of its own list.]
Cafe au lait which is actually espresso (with two lumps).
Tiny children prancing around the city in their fancy new year clothes (sharwal kameez mostly, but I've seen a few in perfectly tailored suits.)
Free wi-fi (which they called wee fee) in the Cyberpark.
Twisty-turny slim and windy alleys all around.
The long heartfelt greetings friends give one another in the streets (made longer and sweeter by the celebration of the end of Ramadan).
Hundreds of cats lounging, hiding, running about in the souks (and a few very hot, panting dogs).

Morocco List Two: Purchases

2009-11-13T14:04:00.000-08:00

Things we have purchased so far:

A gorgeous and expensive cactus silk and wool rug/throw for our bed [we later learned that we paid MUCH too much for this, but we still find it beautiful. And, even though the man promised us it was big enough for our queen sized bed, it is not.]
Two pairs babouches. Orange for me. Yellow for Joe. Camel leather soles and goat leather uppers. The orange coloring (we were told) comes from henna and the yellow from the roots of the saffron plant.
One leather handbag. [okay, this wasn't actually purchased. it was thrown in as a "gift" by the rug salesman because he knew we were being robbed. He actually threw in the babouches too. (see above.)]
Three two-pack Halls throat drops. [I got a cold on the plane ride over, and it was compounded and made worse by the ever-present cigarette smoke, gas-oil fumes from motorbikes, and general dust in the air.]
Much bottled water.
Much mint tea.
One cappachino and one double espresso.
Two scoops pamplemousse glace. One scoop citron.
Three glasses fresh-squeezed orange juice.
Sticky, lucious dates, honey sesame glazed peanuts, salty roasted almonds.
Two mixed kebab plates, two bowls of harira (soup), two bread circles, two cups mint tea (dinner).
One faux guide tour of Mosque ruins. [This we paid what we decided was a fair price for the twenty minutes of a young college students' time. He argued with us and told us we hadn't given him enough money, so then we said that we wouldn't pay him at all. He took the offered funds.]

Things I did not want to buy, but did (sadly)

Henna on my left hand (which I washed off, since it was the black henna that I had been warned by Lonely Planet might cause skin burns).

Things I did not buy, though I was told that I should

One cartwheel by a small boy.
One stupid (and probably fake) Gnaoua dance (with finger cymbols).
Many (many) small packs of tissues from even smaller girls.
The chance to hold a snake.
The chance to hold a monkey.
Another attempt to get henna on my hand before I realized what was happening.

Not Gladys' rolls

2009-11-11T17:42:00.000-08:00

When I was growing up, my great-grandmother owned a cabin on a lake in Northern Minnesota. Since her family (two children and their spouses, eight grandchildren and their spouses, 16 great-grandchildren) all lived in the Twin Cities and my great-grandmother lived in Underwood, North Dakota, this was a terrific place to meet up and spend some quality old-fashioned northern Minnesota time.

Every summer my parents would pack my sister and me into the back seat of the car (at first with Colorforms and Legos, later with Walkmans, books, and friends) and we'd drive the four hours to Park Rapids, where we'd turn off the paved road and into another world. This world was full of communal meals around a table buffeted by vinyl red bench seats, of swamping the canoe to swim in the center of the lake (where it was deep enough that the weeds couldn't strangle your feet), of adopting one of my grandfather's bait leeches to be my personal "pet" for the week (or a box turtle someone accidentally caught on a fishing hook), of mornings spent in rocking chairs around the fireplace, of late nights playing games around the kitchen table, of woodpeckers and woods and a funny old dog who hung around waiting for table scraps. There was an old fashioned candy store in town, and an abandoned gravel pit down a nearby road where the hunt for agates often took place.

But the best part of the trip was when Great-Grandma would arrive. Grandma Gladys always, without fail, unpacked her things in the main bedroom off the kitchen (the rest of us slept in a lofted space filled wall to wall with beds of different sizes and mattress firmnesses which were accessed by one of those terrifically novel ladders that fold flat to the ceiling and squeak delightfully when you climb them), and then set immediately to making a double or triple recipe of her famous, amazing, caramel rolls.

She didn't use a recipe, she didn't measure the ingredients. She did, however, have a completely captive audience of daughters, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. We'd sit at the table while she worked, chatting aimlessly to keep her company while she kneaded the dough, patted it out in a puffy rectangle that filled the entire (communal) kitchen table, and spread it full of an intoxicating mixture of evaporated milk, brown sugar, butter, and cinnamon to roll into a beautiful spiral, which she'd slice using sewing thread. Each roll would go, face down, into all the flat sided pans that could be found. They'd rise again (three rises is torture for a kid, I'm telling you) and then finally go in the oven to fill the cabin with the smell of comfort: sweet, browned bread and sugar and butter. And then, for the rest of the week, we'd feast on these enormous, sticky, incredible rolls. Sweet, doughy perfection.

So it's with this information that I have to tell you: these are not my great-grandmother Gladys' caramel rolls. My mother watched my great-grandmother make those rolls once desperately trying to get a fix on some kind of recipe (measuring things behind her back and estimating when she had to) and my sister and I have that recipe now--though it's my sweet Alaskan sister who makes them most often. But I'm working on getting through my bread book, and these sweet little Miniature Chelsea Buns looked so festive and welcoming, I just had to try them out.

Don't get me wrong: they're really good. Flavored and sweetened with honey and brown sugar, and filled with dried fruit and orange peel, these rolls are sweet and sticky and perfectly tiny (you get to eat three!). My husband Joe loved them. Moaned through each one with delight. Actually told me that he now expects that I'll make them once a month. But I won't. And not just because they take all day, or we'd gain back all that weight we managed to shed in the Sahara.

It's because they're not Gladys' rolls. And though Joe met my great-grandmother, it wasn't until old age and too many strokes had rendered her confused and cranky. He never went to the cabin; never put puzzles together on the porch or played Rook until three in the morning while fruitlessly trying to keep sticky caramel off the cards. Never fished for sunnies and waited patiently for his dad to clean every tiny one so they could be rolled in breadcrumbs and pan fried to perfection. So to him the Chelsea buns are fabulous. But to me they're yummy, but ultimately empty.

Number 4

2009-10-23T13:17:00.000-07:00

Made it to foreign soil. Specifically, Spain and Morocco. (Spain was more of a drive-through destination, but made it there nevertheless. I have passport stamps and everything.)

Saw some beautiful places, met some beautiful people, and learned some hard lessons.

Being a tourist is easy--being a traveler is much harder. And while I knew this before I left, I didn't realize its full meaning until I was thrust again into the pull and sway of the intersection between my expectations and a foreign culture.

Navigating my way physically, logistically, and emotionally without losing my mind (or sense of self or the basic foundation upon which I had based my world view) turned out to be quite the trick.

Feeling too exhausted to sketch or write in my journal, I took to making lists about the journey.

The short, bulleted format of a list seemed much more doable--no poignant prose required. And so, today, I give to you a new list, created over my lunch break, while I looked through the 834 photos I personally took during the four-week journey, and whittled them down to a favorite eight.

List Number One: My favorite 8 photos

1. Women enter the souks through a main Bab; Marrakech

2. The derb (alleyway) outside our riad (guesthouse); Marrakech

3. Ali Ben Yousseff Medersa; Marrakech

4. Sunset over the Saharan desert; two days' walk outside of M'Hamid

5. one of our camels snacking on a acacia tree; one day's walk outside M'Hamid

6. A cat snoozes on rugs for sale in Essouaria

7. Legzira Beach; midway between Sidi Ifni and Mirleft

8. A donkey waits for his owner; somewhere along the southern Atlantic coast of Morocco

More lists to come.

And then we were 8

2009-08-24T13:14:00.000-07:00

Happy Anniversary to us. It's been eight years since I strolled down a grassy walkway adorned with rose petals and daisy heads in my Birkenstock Gizeh sandals and linen dress to meet you in your linen suit, hold your hand, and tell you I won't let go.

Promise.

And I still love you. And I'd do it again. Without question.

But this time let's pick a date in June or July so it's not so hot and humid. Just sayin.

Why I ♥ Seattle (this week)

2009-08-20T07:30:00.000-07:00

in three parts.

Part I: Ballard Corners Park. At which you will find an over sized concrete living room, complete with couch, arm chair, side table, and lamp.

And next to which, you will find the roundabout full of clocks hanging in the tree. Yes, clocks.

Part II: Almost Free Outdoor Movies. At which you are encouraged to wear costumes (I wore horns), and Bring Your Own Chair (BYOC), and donate $5, and where you get a pseudonym upon entrance. (I was Pluto. Joe was Scarface.) You also get to play trivia, take photobooth pictures with props, eat from your prepacked cooler, and chat with your fellow pseudonymed neighbors while waiting for the sun to set and the movie to commence. The movie: Peewee's Big Adventure.

Part III: Telephone poll art. Again. Still awesome.

ich habe genug

2009-08-13T14:36:00.001-07:00

Joe brought home Maira Kalman's book (which was made from her visual blog in the New York Times), The Principles of Uncertainty.

I was immediately smitten: by her deluxe descriptions of things, her jaunty paintings, her handwriting a mix of lower case and upper case and cursive and block print, her outlook, her in-look. She paints portraits of people's sinks, and photographs couches that have been abandoned on New York streets, and is the curator of several amazing collections: candy bars and sponges and suitcases and whistles.

Anyway, I thought you should know about her. Because I'm happier now that I do.

Also: She's got a new gig going at the Times, about our country's history. Check it here.

Two (the age. not in the list.)

2009-08-10T13:17:00.000-07:00

Brendan, my first (and only) nephew turns two today. That's only 730 days on earth, my friend. And that's not too many. But it is enough to learn how to sit, and stand, and walk, and run. And how to climb up on EVERYTHING and to say a few important words, like MaMa and DaDa and maybe even ThankYouHaveANiceDay.

In year number two, luckily, everything is still pretty awesome. Grass! Bees! Dogs! Firetrucks! Oatmeal! It's all great. Interesting. Worth grabbing and sticking your fingers into (and putting in your mouth). Worth screaming and dancing and shouting about. That kind of joy is hard not to join in on. And even though my sweet nephew is in Alaska, and I am not, I do hear him babbling in the background on my weekly phone calls with his mother (that would be my sister). And when I'm not holding the phone away from my ear to defend against the high-pitched shrieks, I'm smiling along in the joy and exuberance I can hear in his travels across the back yard (or living room).

My sister is busy baking him a little sister, a niece. And that will be exciting too. And in the mean time, he's going to have to grow into this sweater, which knit up a lot bigger than I thought it would. (Gauge? What's gauge?)

Happy Birthday, B. I know that once you're older, getting a sweater for your birthday will be lame. It's probably even lame now. But I have to get in the knitting before I become that crazy old aunt who always sends the itchy sweaters (for the record, this is knit in washable merino wool and is ANYthing but itchy). I hope you can forgive me that some day.

At the very least, you'll have cute photos of you in the sweaters to show your future girl/boyfriends when your mom gets the photo album out at dinner to embarrass you. So that interspersed among the inevitable naked bathtub photos will be some stills of sweater strutting, and you will thank me. Oh yes you will.

Scribbling

2009-08-08T09:01:00.000-07:00

Oppy has some cool stuff going on over at the Scribble Project. The latest? A totem pole, where we all made a section for stackage. Good fun clean stuff.

Here's my section. Check out the whole line of over 100 totems here.

29

2009-08-07T12:14:00.000-07:00

Finally. It's here. The February Lady Sweater, which I completed a few months ago but never got around to photographing. Until today.

It's about time. Amy is one of those amazing women you know who outshines even the shiniest nickel. That's because Amy has something I don't: patience. Infinite patience. (And mad artistic skills. And a proper cheese slicer on hand at ALL times.)

How do I know? Because this yarn is not just any yarn. This is yarn that Amy retrieved by unraveling a thrift store sweater. Once unraveled, she washed and hung the yarn to dry (to un-kink it) and then wound it into these beautiful skeins fresh for the knitting.

(You can do this too. Just google it. Instructions abound. Send skeins to your less patient friends. They will love you forever.)

This yarn had been sitting in my stash for...I'd say a good few years. Like, for example, enough years for Amy to have TWO children, and thus not as much time for such tedious (but thrifty, eco-friendly, and AWESOME) projects. So it's been awhile. Which is why I finally put it on the list. Enough, already, Cupcake. Make a FREE sweater out of your free yarn.

And this sweater was born. The Lady Sweater rocks. If you are on ravelry (and you should be if you knit or crochet), you can see that the rest of the world agrees with the rocking-ness of this sweater. In fact, 6,449 other knitters have made this sweater and posted their completed projects on ravelry. Another 9,346 have it in the queue.

Maybe it's becuase the lace is so awesome. Or the pattern doesn't require ANY seaming (which I hate) or that it's just an awesome mid-weather cardigan with 3/4 sleeves that works almost all year on the west coast.

Time = abundance

2009-07-13T08:41:00.001-07:00

Big ups to Jess Gonacha for posting my lastest digital drawing on her FABulous blog, peacannoot. Jess is an artist and a visionary for the Internets...pop on over to peacannoot and see for yourself.

summer

2009-07-08T12:19:00.000-07:00

I've been...

wearing out that old dawg (above)
to the west-most, north-most part of the contiguous united states
eating fresh-from-the-smoker salmon
sailing in the Mississippi
eating my husband's hand rolled meatballs over a campfire
getting my swim on--in Bass Lake, Lake Peppin, Crescent Lake, the Pacific Ocean, and Puget Sound
celebrating fathers and lots of years on this earth
slurping the best local ice cream (birthday cake? how about balsamic strawberry?)
tide pooling
quite a few statues
visiting old friends
planning the next big trip
drinking sexy bitches (an award-winning cocktail) with the neighbors
learning to be more present in the moment(s) by taking fewer photos

Shop update!

2009-05-25T12:19:00.001-07:00

New stuff available in the shop, including (back by popular demand) changing pads AND a healthy assortment of other baby goodies. Also, please note, there are things in my shop now that feature...wait for it...cupcakes. Oh yes.

focaccia is the easiest yeast bread that there is

2009-04-10T16:07:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time there was a woman named Eileen. I met Eileen through my MFA program in Anchorage, and was privileged to work with her for a year on my research assistanceship through the college. Eileen graduated after my first year in the program, and to celebrate, she hosted a party at her house--the kind of casual potluck that has an open grill onto which you put your own meat (or tempeh, as the case may be) and the hostess provides wine and plates and salad.

Here's what I remember about Eileen: she has three daughters (which she was doing a bang up job raising) all while attending grad school and working part time. Here's what else. Eileen baked five loaves of fresh focaccia for the party.

I can remember gasping (in her glowing kitchen, brightly lit by the almost all-day Alaskan pre-summer sun) at her ability to be such a super woman, having made BREAD for a party at her own house. (Parties at your own house mean that you also had to clean said house before people arrived. That's extra work, folks, and if you didn't make bread, I think, people would understand.)

I remember Eileen laughing at me and saying, No, no. Focaccia is the EASIEST yeast bread there is.

I tucked that memo into the recesses of my brain, and it appeared just the other day (about eight years later), board from laying around and reading (and reading some more) and wanting to do something creative that didn't take all my mental and (short bursts of) physical energy, I googled focaccia recipes and set to work.

I picked the first one that came up. It said it was the easiest, so there. I did, however, read the comments that said the recipe was blah so I added salt to the dough as well as minced fresh garlic and rosemary (god bless you, Seattle, for being the perfect place for rosemary to grow all year long) from the newly awakening garden. I added the garlic and rosemary while kneading the dough--you only knead for ONE minute.

Focaccia is practically paint-by-numbers for bread makers: one minute of kneading, only one rise (and 30 minutes at that!), it's truly a "what are we having for dinner" kind of bread (assuming you work at home). I can't even tell you how good this bread was. I oohed and aahed my way through it. We ate all but two pizza-shaped wedges that night, warm from the oven.

And then, the next morning, my sweet husband toasted the remaining triangles, added cream, eggs, and fresh Parmesan, and threw our tiny casserole dishes under the broiler for a remarkable savory bread pudding.

okay, but

2009-03-28T15:54:00.001-07:00

so i'm still officially on hiatus. but i wanted to point you to this. something a girl can do even after she gets cut open. (scribble, that is.)

hiatus

2009-03-14T09:24:00.000-07:00

hey ya'll, just a note to say i'm going off line for awhile. going to the desert to lay under the sun. then going under the knife for some minor/major surgery. then going to recover.

peace.

first shot

2009-03-08T14:01:00.000-07:00

oops. the brownie is visible in the photo. but it's also kind of cute. kind of like a double exposure. other not so great shots here.

this is just me screwing around before I have the contraption...which the mister is currently making. god bless him and his exacto knife and his straight edge.

Number 5. Or one third of it.

2009-03-07T13:48:00.000-08:00

Thank you, ebay.

and thank you to colleen, who kept the box her brownie came in. And left me a whole box of single-use, but still workable, flashbulbs that completely blind you but smell of old cameras in the most delicious and nostalgic way.

thank you to the mister, who took these photos of the photograph machine.

Shopping List Saturday: teeny tiny

2009-03-07T07:39:00.000-08:00

everything's better small.

I learned my love for the little when my father built me a dollhouse. My mother bought me a tiny tiny old fashioned bathroom set--a claw-footed tub, an ancient toilet with the pull chain flusher, and a tiny pitcher and wash basin to grace the bedroom dresser. I also had a tiny grandfather clock, a tiny fireplace set, a tiny tiny set of dishes for the kitchen cabinets. My grandmother helped me decorate the house, laying down a small turkish rugs on the living room floor, hanging pale blue floral wallpaper in the kitchen, pasting paper that looked like tiny tiles on the floor of the bathroom. I was always on the lookout for teeny accessories for those six rooms. And, I guess I still am.

row one: tiny little frog finger puppet by staceyrebecca; canbot robot by sage12888; tiny zodiac monsters coloring book by monstergallery

row two: taraxacum officianale by dolittledesign; itty bitty mouse by allthingssmall; micro mini toy kitty by sparklerama

row three: tiny book by LeiLaLoo; tiny chick by dreamalittle7; tiny white pin cushion by wooke

as always, find more SLS at fancy picnic

Shopping List Saturday: Eames ♥

2009-02-28T08:30:00.000-08:00

you know about ray and charles eames, right? the hipster gods of mid-century modern. if not, get thee to a wikipedia entry or two. also. rent this. and watch it. you'll be so much cooler at your next design/architecture/art-nerd party.

row one: black cat print set by kerrybeary; i like to rock by jaimers; original veneer no. 3 by mimidoodles

row two: eames rar by pleasebestill; modern hang around chair by byrdandbelle; eames plywood chair necklace by chocolateandsteel

row three: graphic eames rocker by NanLawson; eames style print by ImJustRick; midcentury birds by FourcrowsArt

as always, find more sls at fancy picnic.

draw me: where did you go last weekend?

2009-02-27T07:30:00.000-08:00

the answer: to vashon island, to get a look at the migrating grebes.

the mister and I are both suffering health-wise. that's fun stuff. it means lots of things, but one of them is this: neither of us can walk very far. this is a super big bummer. we are walkers. we walk every where. we're those people who park at the back of the lot so we can have a longer walk to the store. we have a hairy yellow dog. he needs walking. daily. (he's used to a three mile loop minimum.)

so. in the interest of not losing our minds, we've been taking road trips to new destinations that don't involve taking too many steps, but still feel like we're out in the world. two weekends ago we drove up to snoqualmie falls.

last weekend we went to vashon island to look at the grebes. they are migrating right now, and like to stop at the island for a few months to eat herring and mate.

except for this year. this year at the annual count, the locals spotted 17. a few years ago, they counted over 1,000. boo.

we did, however, bring the bird book. we saw maybe 50 grebes flying overhead as we sat at Jensen Point in the sun (gasp! the sun!), and a few more at Shawnee Beach (which, by the way, would be easier to find if any of the landmarks we were told to look for in our guide book had been there. okay, to the book's credit, the Important Bird Area sign was there, but a minivan was parked in front of it...). We also visited the vashon lighthouse, where we ate a fabulous picnic lunch in the sand and shells.

we also had the good fortune to hang out with a large number of scoters and of course, gulls and crows. they're all good too.

NB. Barnacle bill can be spotted quite often in these parts. Barnacles have been my new fascination for awhile. ever since i learned that they have feathery appendages that they thrust forth from their hard beaks to catch prey in the water. how great is that?

Also. tiny tiny shell guys. What kind of shell guys? Maybe sayra will chime in and let us know. she's a marine biologist, you know. she knows these things (it was she who taught me about Barnacle Bill). These two are having a conversation. Or tea. I'm pretty sure that if they're having tea, the tea is too small to see. so we can't know for sure.

you'll note, too, that i documented the pentapus that lives on the dashboard of our red jetta, Claus. what's with his name? well, dear reader, I'm glad you asked. he (strangely) only has 5 legs. he was found at ikea for the awesome purchasing price of sixty seven cents...so either A) they didn't have enough money to make all eight legs, or B) that's just how they are in sweeden. you be the judge. [this documentation took place while waiting for the return ferry. the trouble with ferrys, as you may know, is that they fill up fast, and sometimes you have to wait another hour for the next one. boo.]

why i ♥ seattle (this week)

2009-02-26T12:30:00.000-08:00

in three parts.

Part I.: Gorilla outdoor art. Always. Like these shoes, nailed to telephone poles, telling stories in Ballard. Discovered while attending the year-round farmer's market to buy oysters. Always oysters. Yum.

Part II: The Art-O-Mat--an old cigarette vending machine transformed into an art store. Tiny art works from a number of artists. One token = $5 = wonder, awe, and delight. At a store that is also an artist collective/studio space--which is not listed on the art-o-mat website becuase it's that new and exclusive.

Part III: Sanctioned outdoor art. Like cement monopoly houses. And murals outside of restaurants. And paintings inside coffee houses.

draw me: what's on your desk

2009-02-25T07:30:00.000-08:00

lots of good stuff. including, but not limted to: a wooden desk calendar from night owl paper goods, postcard stamps, my purple page up, mini moo cards, a sweet wind-up chicken from this store, off-white thread, extra buttons and thread from a new shirt, and a light up guy from ikea.

Shopping List Saturday: SCREAM

2009-02-21T09:46:00.000-08:00

it's been a rough month. i take that back. it's been a rough year. (thankfully, the year has only just begun...there's still time for it to get better.) on that note, without boring you with the details, i give you nine (powerful, funny, if a bit haunting) screams.

row one: try screaming by wearmycolors; screamers by jrodriguez; scream two art print by sandrabilokonsky

row two: the crazy ungulate in bovine pink by PterodactylPants; screaming man by alphagirl; screaming bird by badbird

row three: screaming girl by HancockFamilyArt; whisper no. 2 by thelostegg; scream by retromance

as always, find more shopping lists at fancypicnic.

tf shout out!

2009-02-19T17:41:00.001-08:00

Thanks to poppy seed tree for the tiny footprint shoutout on her blog. Check it out here. And, while you're at it, visit her sweet little etsy store where you can pick up stuff like this: