the adventures of penny and whale

Sophie Pancake.

2011-09-02T18:50:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I joined my two supervisors, a post doc and the skipper of the F/V Mythos on an eight day whale research cruise up the eastern side of Kodiak Island into Perenosa Bay. The weather was somewhat uncooperative but the scenery was stunning and it was really special to see a whole new part of Kodiak Island. Bree and I were nestled into the tiny hatch cabin in the fish hold of the Mythos while the others slept in the main cabin. The days flew by, each with its own personality and theme. The first day, desperate to become productive, we decided to launch the skiff and ended up getting lost in the thick fog for about five hours before the Mythos located us. I don't think I've ever seen such constant rain as during those eight days. Finally, late on our last evening, the weather cleared and the water was glassy calm. This was the night that the most amazing thing happened. I was told that it was my time to biopsy a whale. I've never fired a real gun before but I knew it didn't make a difference because I was going to do it anyway; I've been looking forward to this opportunity for years. Despite my anxiety, excitement and shaky hands, I fired right below the dorsal fin and we got the skin and blubber we needed. The whale fluked up more dramatically than normal and exposed its beautiful tail. It is my new favorite fluke of all time! Bree and Kate named her "Sophie Pancake" in my honor.

Kate is pointing to the southern part of the mouth of Perenosa Bay where we saw a large congregation of humpbacks feeding cooperatively several days in a row.

Here's a photo taken from the Mythos while I was practicing how to hold a rifle.

I hope I didn't hurt you, Sophie Pancake.

st. paul island.

2011-08-14T11:33:00.000-07:00

As the final component of my year-long contract with NOAA's National Marine Mammal Laboratory, I was asked to fly out to St. Paul Island, Alaska and join my boss and a team of northern fur seal biologists to help gather data that will someday be useful in understanding the cause of this population's long-term decline. It was one of the more nerve-wracking flights I've ever been on. I've never been too fond of flying and a three hour trip straight out into the middle of the Bering Sea in a thirty-seater plane with broken, ratty seats was not exactly exciting. It was surreal when we finally came across tiny St. Paul Island, it seemed so barren and forgotten. Little did I know what life pervaded the forty square miles of volcanic remains. My stay lasted two weeks and during that time I was exposed to more novel ideas and images since my first trip to Peru. It felt so nice to be amazed at so many things in such a short period of time.

This is where we stayed. The locals refer to it as "Staff Quarters." Scientists from

several different agencies stay here during their research. It made for lively conversation at dinnertime!

I was provided with my own little room in the back corner of the building.

Foxes roam this island like stray dogs. This one lived right outside of staff quarters and had a den

full of kits under one of the storage structures. You could hear them barking when they got hungry.

I fed them fur seal kidneys for lunch one day!

The Russian Orthodox Church.

Here are some photos of where we did the majority of our work.

Part of my job was to spot dead northern fur seal pups and fresh placentas

to take back to the lab for necropsy and disease analysis.

A very fresh placenta:

Evidence of how aggressive northern fur seals can be:

Now, let me introduce you to my favorite northern fur seal of all time, ever: Pink Toes!

He is partially albino and I love him.

This is the beautiful murre egg I found on the cliffs on the

Russian-facing side of the island.

My pathologist friend, Terry Spraker, forced me into helping him catch foxes for analysis of a

rare joint degenerative disease they carry on the island.

There's so much to see in this world, isn't there?

catch me if you can.

2011-08-03T17:05:00.000-07:00

It's time to play catch-up. I have been shamefully neglectful of my dear blog. The only upside to this negligence is that I have a reasonably good excuse: I have been a woman on the go! It turns out that Alaska is more diverting than I had originally thought and thus, my blog has suffered from the resulting dereliction. Since we last spoke Thaddaeus and I took an epic road trip from Fairbanks all the way to Kodiak, Alaska. We passed through Denali National Park (or State Park, depending on how you look at it), we stopped in Cordova in search of paddles for our raft, we dug clams in Cook Inlet, we camped in Homer and finally we ferried out the Emerald Isle.

These were the views through Denali.

Thaddaeus thought it was best that we stopped for Dairy Queen in Was(z)illa.

Homer harbor!

We grabbed a unforgettably delicious cupcake at Homer's Two Sisters Bakery for the ferry ride to Kodiak.

And a few unfortunate species were sacrificed to science but they understood.

alaskaland.

2011-07-06T17:57:00.000-07:00

One of my all-time favorite Fairbanks days this summer was spent in Pioneer Park. Originally called "Alaskaland," Pioneer Park is a forty-acre State Historical Park dedicated to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Alaska's purchase from Russia. History aside, we used the Fairbanks Summer Folk Fest as an excuse to revel in feigned tourism and spent the entire day watching kids have water fights, fishing on the Chena, playing mini-golf, eating soft serve ice cream and riding the Crooked Creek and Whiskey Island Railroad around the perimeter of the park (twice!).

This is the Warren G. Harding Railcar. Harding was the first U.S. president to visit the territory of Alaska. He traveled in this very railcar to celebrate the completion of the Alaska Railroad, then he died two weeks later.

Thaddaeus and I were mistaken for German tourists by a resident wood and bone carver.

Then, all of a sudden, Thaddaeus got a HUGE craving for fair food and found what he was looking for at Grizzly's Tent Camp Foods.

Another interesting attraction was the Riverboat SS Nenana. It's famous for being the largest stern-wheeler built west of the Mississippi and the second largest wooden vessel in existence! What's more, the inside has been converted into a museum with a 300-foot long diorama of life in the early 1900s along the Tanana and Yukon rivers. I love these little things.

Thaddaeus made some mild repairs while we were on the ship, for good measure.

late nights on the lake.

2011-06-14T17:07:00.000-07:00

This weekend we took advantage of the long hours of daylight and went fishing on Chena Lake until the sun finally grew tired and fell toward the horizon. The beavers were relentless, slapping their paddle tails with irritation spurred on by our shiny new inflatable raft and bright orange oars. Their dam was quite impressive and I don't blame them for feeling a bit protective. On the way to the lake, we passed through a small town called North Pole where "the spirit of Christmas lives year 'round." This is my new favorite place. I'm excited to visit this winter and meet the real Santa Claus!

Not until we decided to disembark the raft and hobble up onto a tiny island did we have some real luck.

Although some of were more fortuitous than others, we both came out as winners.

The sun's departure behind the birch trees was our cue to leave.

But the night was not over! Yet another Alaskan surprise was waiting for us at home when

we spotted a momma moose and her calf meandering near the neighbor's truck. I was surprised at how

tall the adult female was. I've never seen a moose (or a beaver) in the wild before. What a weekend!

the week: waterside.

2011-06-10T16:58:00.000-07:00

Here is the week in just two pictures! On Monday, we went to the Downtown Market which is banked alongside the Chena River. The live music, smiling faces and shining sun made it feel like a true summer day. Thaddaeus and I each bought a delicious crepe and ate it overlooking the cool Chena water. This building was high up in the sky above us there. The next morning, we stopped along the shores of Ballaine Pond to dip in our fishing lines. Although we only had a few bites (possibly misinterpreted and were probably snags), it was a scenic spot and the dragonflies were intrepid, thrusting life into my listless morning eyes.

the kitchen.

2011-06-09T16:02:00.000-07:00

On the inside of this north facing window lies our humble kitchen. After hours of planning and constructing shelves and organizing spices, we came to the conclusion that our kitchen is the most hip in Fairbanks. It's sleek and gleaming with jet black appliances and individual flood flights highlighting its lustrous assets. Just click on the images for a close up view!

Notice our nice new apple oven mitts from Value Village?

This is our oven-top, teapot owl family.

Please come join us for a pot anytime!

two times sixteen candles.

2011-06-07T12:06:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, Thaddaeus and I hosted a surprise birthday party under the guise of a game night for our friend Trevor. While the party did become consumed by a four hour game of Settlers of Catan, the birthday was the running theme and we celebrated whole-heartedly, despite threats of an approaching forest fire!

Notice the subtle hints of a celebration from up in the loft.

My ingenious man.

Our friend Christine hard at work to design a proper birthday hat.

Here is my first attempt at making momma's famous cheesecake from scratch.

Thaddaeus insisted that we light the correct number of candles.

And then, all of a sudden, Trevor arrived (very punctually) and we scurried to hide behind the refrigerator and stairs and when he got to the door we jumped out to surprise him! After the excitement, we realized that we forgot to sign his jumbo-sized birthday card so we forced him to face the wall (with his party hat on) while we frantically put our names in his card.

It took a little longer than expected.

(Notice jacket came off)

The next morning I ran a 5.2K race to celebrate Alaska statehood. I placed fifteen out of

seventy-four and had a time of 25 minutes and 35 seconds. This is my all time record!

things to carve: a spoon, a home.

2011-06-04T17:28:00.000-07:00

It only seemed appropriate to settle into home by opening up a new cookbook and baking a loaf of bread. While it wasn't the best tasting loaf I've ever created, it kept the cabin smelling sweet and it made me feel really good. The best part of the whole experience was stirring the ingredients with the new spoon I carved from a willow tree. This was so exciting, in fact, that I probably over-stirred the ingredients which lead to the distastefulness of the loaf itself. Oh well. It's pretty, isn't it?

This is the forest in front of our cabin. It mostly consists of birch trees

and swallowtail butterflies. However, two nights ago, Thaddaeus and I were awakened by the

sound of an owl hooting in the trees. I stayed up with it for a while but soon

grew too tired to keep him company and fell asleep.

And here is the homestead! I love the red roof and door. Notice the

firewood in the foreground that Thaddaeus has been working so hard to harvest.

It will keep us warm through the cold, dark winter.

These are some chocolate cupcakes with cookies and cream frosting I made for a

dinner party at Thaddaeus' advisor's house.

Also...

... upon arrival, I discovered that a certain friend (middle name Renee) snuck a few thoughtful

treasures into my heavy, boring luggage. With her help, unpacking quickly went from

uninteresting to exhilarating and I felt right at home.

So many pen pals, so little time!

dancing makes tears turn to sweat.

2011-05-31T16:45:00.000-07:00

Last week I moved for the first time in five years. One night in early May I sat in the kitchen with my friends and, as they held my hand, I booked a one-way ticket to Fairbanks, Alaska. Once the reality of this decision settled into my busy brain, it became clear that I only had a few weeks to close up what had been the most defining five years of my life. The Quaid and I took full advantage of this new excuse to plan a few weeks worth of happy hours, dinner parties, long walks and nights out. Even my big brother flew through Seattle to join in on the fun! These are a few photos of our final dinner-turned-dance party hosted by Dennis himself.

The vibe of this house tends to change as quickly as you can say cucumber tomato salad.

After about 3.5 hours of non-stop dancing, fatigue set in and we grew nostalgic. Tears fell to the kitchen floor and when we could no longer stand it, we ran to our respective rooms to escape the salty flood.

I was at home in this embrace. We decided that from then on, home was mobile because home was with each other. And with that, I started my mobile home engine and flew north.

my first international Easter.

2011-05-02T12:35:00.000-07:00

Before this year I had never celebrated an Easter holiday outside of the United States! Although there was no Easter basket waiting for me when I woke up, there were two of my very best friends lying next to me in a beautiful king sized bed and a HUGE gourmet five-star hotel breakfast. I found this to be an agreeable alternative.

upon arrival...

departing into the night...

Easter morning view!

along our Easter morning walk...

pixilated killer whale breaching into cyberspace.

there's more to life than clams.

2011-04-24T20:54:00.000-07:00

As a family we learned a valuable lesson this past Saturday afternoon: when you fail to reach one goal, others are often accomplished. Although we had fully intended on bringing sixty large, juicy razor clams home to feed our friends for weeks, we ended up with two (and a half?) small, cracked, squigly things that David so kindly took off our hands. On the bright side, here's a list of goals we did achieve:

1) We stomped like children all over a vast portion of the beach at twin harbors.

2) We ran away from Sean and then towards him, we chased each other, and the birds, and then fled screaming from the waves.

3) We learned that sometimes the most satisfying meals come the places you'd least expect them, like the Blue Beacon in Aberdeen.

4) We visited our dear friend David in Olympia.

5) We made the acquaintances of several cows, climbed a very tall tree house, smelled a fragrant lily in the forest and bathed in a tub with no water.

These things (not clams) will keep us full for weeks.

those that gave us life.

2011-04-05T21:38:00.000-07:00

It appeared as though the parents of Dennis Quaid had conspired during the last bit of March to inundate our humble abode with hints of spring cleaning and Easter cheer. Within a week we had hosted the parents of Emily and Allison and even my own ma and pa joined in!

Some of us were skeptical at first, worried that we'd be reprimanded for our disconcerting kitchen habits and overflowing compost bin...

... but it was soon clear that the adults were just as excited as us to cook up some trouble.

We hosted a dinner party of fifteen in honor of dear Barb and Lil' Ricky Safrin who brought us reasonable inquiries, endless information and fascinating opinions on topics such as clean energy, our involvement in Libya and lentils. I quote Sean Ian Tully, "I think I speak for us all when I say we'd be interested in learning more about lentils." Spoken like a true man.

Here's what one side of the dinner table looked like:

The next festivity occurred once my mom and pop rolled into town. My momma diligently hard-boiled six dozen eggs during the wee hours of the morning so that after work, all of us kids (and dad) could unwind and get messy with some good ole' Ukrainian egg dye and rubber bands.

After the eggs had become beautiful, it was announced that there was a surprise egg hunt in the basement and each of us was allowed to uncover seven colorful eggs! Shock and silence fell over the crowd before we all sprinted down the stairs, shoving and scrambled to collect our bounty.

Once the visits were over and we were once again "home alone", we all decided that parents are welcome to our house any minute of any day of any year.

We LOVE them!

an early march in fairbanks.

2011-03-13T20:23:00.000-07:00

Colder than ice cream, sweeter than birch syrup, and more lovely than one thousand Valentine's Days.

My circle scarf and I are seated strategically in the back corner of a sort-of-lounge, unabashedly listening in on a casual conversation between an older man and woman sipping on their venti lattes, dawned head to toe in pure, coordinated denim (let's take this moment to remember Britney and JT, circa 2001, American Music Awards). Additionally distracting is the little boy who just walked in with "K. Money" shaved into the back of his head. This lounge is awesome; all of these things are helping my case. I'm tired, in Anchorage, and trying to make my mind wander until my ETD; 1:30 am. My current trajectory is southeast, after six days in Fairbanks with my beau. The temperatures were the coldest I've ever endured, yet a local (Thaddaeus) told me that the weather had actually been quite mild!

Here are a few highlights from my trip:

The night I arrived, we lined up our Sorels and Thaddaeus cooked up a tasty stir-fry to ease my travel hunger. We sipped on the most delicious wine, chatting across the table, both a bit curious about what it was like to talk to a real face after so many Skype hours.

Another day, after a visit to the plaid-clad pub, we travelled home to cook up a delectable feast of garlic butter roasted mushrooms, orange pan glazed tofu, and sweet potatoes with pecans and goat cheese. Dessert consisted of ice cream, Batman Returns, and some debate about next year's Halloween costumes.

dinner links!

http://smittenkitchen.com/2010/12/garlic-butter-roasted-mushrooms/

http://www.101cookbooks.com/archives/orange-panglazed-tempeh-recipe.html

http://smittenkitchen.com/2010/11/sweet-potatoes-with-pecans-and-goat-cheese/

I took a long walk on Friday. Along the way, I bought birch syrup and Hot Licks raspberry truffle ice cream and was blinded by the Arctic sun. We joined some friends for the First Friday Art Walk downtown where Thaddaeus bought a beautifully carved pipe and an unbelievably warm hat made of coyote fur! I found several treasures at the antique store but Thaddaeus was less enthusiastic about them so they were forcibly forgotten.

Overall, Fairbanks in March is a delightful place to be. I learned a lot of valuable lessons about hockey, superheroes, stacking cookie trays in the oven, traction on ice and about how each time I visit, I get more excited about going back. And that is a good feeling right now.

a new way to advertise.

2011-02-23T19:44:00.000-08:00

On brick! I love it. It's my new collection.

in winter's embrace.

2011-02-09T21:18:00.000-08:00

The sky is withering into the deep gray of evening as if it's growing tired from watching the rain dance confidently on the cement of 10th Avenue all day long. Every so often I hear a Metro bus pass, disrupting the rain's natural cadence with a splash, exploding the droplets into a messy wet frenzy. In light of a desperate search for optimism in the dead of winter, this seems like the perfect place to reflect briefly on the post-Christmas gifts that winter is delivering. Some notable merits include, but are not limited to, a plethora of migratory birds (including a gaggle of geese!) wandering aimlessly in Magnuson Park, an easy excuse to add a few more blankets to my bed, a reason to rent really old movies, the chance to spot an abandoned, frozen hummingbird nest high up in a tree, a constant craving for warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies and a true discernment of phrases like, "bunkering down," "chilled to the bone," and "Get inside Missy, you'll catch a cold!" Winter is certainly intimidating but if Winter were a man (notice "winter" is now capitalized) he'd be disappointed by your opinion. He'd want you to know that winter is a big part of life and you can't just wait it out, otherwise you'd be in abeyance for one-fourth of forever! Winter would march up and down main thoroughfares with his head high exonerating skeptics and throwing his fists into the air while calling for a more hardy race; one whose knees don't buckle under the force of a blizzard and one who laughs at the thought of crying the winter blues because, after all, if you're human enough to feel the cold, then you should be celebrating, right? While it's true that he teaches harsh lessons, Winter is always right. Let's find a way to appreciate the cold just as we appreciate the warm because experiencing both is to be human and this duality is deserving of celebration.

ps. a new winter song: County Line by Cass McCombs. Put on a beautiful dress or snazzy suit, play this song and do a few romantic twirls, even if the love of your life is thousands of miles away. You might find that it actually makes you feel less alone.

penny pinching/squishing.

2011-01-17T22:27:00.000-08:00

Penny squishing lends evidence to the fact that life's myriad peculiarities are not all born modern. It is rumored that the earliest edition of the "elongated coin" was produced in Chicago, Illinois during the 1892-1983 World's Columbian Exposition, which served to commemorate the 400th anniversary of Christopher Columbus's "discovery" of America. Also rumored is the emphatic ebb and flow of the popularity of this idiosyncratic hobby. Following an extensive period of unexplained penny squishing doldrums (1892-1983), the craze was again thrust into a period of fervency and, today, it is proposed that no collector can keep up with production. Thaddaeus and I learned quite a bit about the principles of supply and demand when we took ECON 200 and we see this prophecy as both a threat and a promise.

During our holiday, penny squishing brought us to places we never would have thought to visit. Or else, if we had thought to visit them, the thrill of the hunt allowed us to view each port of call in a different, more adventurous, light. What might have become a perfunctory visit to the local zoo became a expedition of kinetic excitement; sweating as we struggled and strained our necks to be the first one who got to shriek out "THERE IT IS! THERE'S THE PENNY SQUISHER!" We rushed to the powerful steel rollers, holding each other's sweaty hands tight, fumbling in our pockets for two quarters and one magnificent, shiny penny. This feeling was infectious.

A list of our penny squishing destinations:

(in the order they were visited, accompanied by noteworthy memories of that location)

LA County Natural History Museum

- preserved megamouth shark and oarfish

- Thaddaeus' first new mug from the gift store

- fully articulated fin whale

Morro Bay Carousel Taffy (failed attempt)

- broken machine

- the largest variety of taffy on planet earth

Morro Bay Aquarium (squished token, not coin)

- murky tanks due to the intense wind, zero visibility

- sad, depressed, hungry seals

- a housewarming gift for Noelle: furry ox

Santa Barbara Natural History Museum

   - 93 foot long blue whale
   - extensive collection of birds; particularly shore birds, which forced Thaddaeus to become
   severely impassioned
   - the best museum gift shop on record
   - another mug purchased by Thaddaeus

Stearn's Wharf

- stormy, rocking pier; VERY scary

- visited the Ty Warner Sea Center to get our parking validated

Santa Monica pier

- acrobats in training

- tried to sneak in to access additional penny squishers; failed

- creepy little kid getting too excited about shooting a gun

- Thaddaeus impressed me on Muscle Beach...

Santa Barbara Zoo

- unbelievably cute otter family eating dinner

- stood on top of growling lions

- lured out a rare, tiny cat

- watched a Channel Island fox forage

- got escorted out of the zoo because the zoo was closed and it "wasn't safe to be

in the area" aka lions on the prowl.

Hearst Castle visitor's center

- my birthday!

- escorted to the machine by mom and pop

- dolphins at the cove

- Thaddaeus touched a ground squirrel (good job Thaddaeus, high five.)

the Madonna Inn

- sat by an elaborate fireplace

- Thaddaeus urinated in the waterfall toilet

And just like that, life became more magical.

2010-12-25T20:39:00.000-08:00

In celebration of Christmas without Krampus!

The age-old debate prevails; is there some clandestine alliance between old St. Nickolas and one's parents? Us kids have been bewildered for centuries. Evidence from last night's revelry suggests that we just might never know for sure.

On December 22nd, I was shuttled straight from the airport to the annual family Christmas party for a wonderful night of laughing until we cried, delicious food, crazy aunts, and cousin gossip. All desserts were skillfully crafted by momma dearest.

This year, our family was blessed with a Christmas miracle bearing the name of Marte Solbakken. She is a delightful spirit and it has been an absolute pleasure to spend the holiday with her. On Christmas eve, we pooled our gourmet resources and constructed a feast of risotto, salmon, yam souffle, spinach/goat cheese/pomegranate salad, and maple syrup roasted brussel sprouts.

As an after-dinner treat, momma had us un-wrap surprise ball party favors! The layers and layers of vintage colored crate paper revealed tiny treasures including Christmas stickers, chocolates, mysterious sponge capsules and even a few George Washingtons!

Overall, it has been a Christmas to remember and we are all very pleased to have survived another holiday without a visit from Krampus.

friends are calling yoo-hoo!

2010-12-07T21:30:00.000-08:00

Fall has fallen while spring has not yet sprung. This can only indicate one thing my dear friends; winter is very much upon us! In a surprising turn of events, the snow has been obliterated by moist, warm air and the ground has cleared to make way for the bustling pitter-patter of Christmas-motivated footsteps. (And just for the record, my footsteps are ALWAYS Christmas-motivated, all year long). This past weekend, the season's yule-tide ardor brought be me straight to the heart of the Seattle Center where I found the 2010 Annual Urban Craft Uprising, a very empty, albeit active, carousel, an old man conductor tending to his miniature railroad and tiny local community, and a flushed employee hustling to keep up with his busy taffy wrapping machine. All things Christmas.

This year my Christmas wish is to become best friends with Roosevelt Grier. Roosevelt (when we're friends I'll call him Rosey) is a hero exuding a form of opulence not experienced by any other man (see first photo). After playing defensive tackle for the Los Angeles Rams from 1958-1962, he transitioned to a hobby befitting a true professional; macrame and needlepoint. His book, "Rosie Grier's Needlepoint for Men," is for sale on amazon.com for $59.98.

http://www.amazon.com/Rosey-Griers-Needlepoint-Men-Grier/dp/0802704212/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1291777097&sr=8-2

snOMG.

2010-11-24T08:45:00.000-08:00

Who knew we'd get to leave reality for an entire week???

That certainly calls for a snowball fight.

Michelle won the first round so I decided to flee to the frozen lake.

Then Sean got mad because I was doubling the weight of his already sketchy mission:

wriggling all over the ice.

So, naturally, I tested my limits and inched closer until he threatened to pound the ice with his fist.

So I got scared and made a snowman instead. Sometimes frozen friends are the only ones you can trust.

“Psychorepression” and the empathic civilization.

2010-11-20T23:48:00.000-08:00

I want to stay up all night long entertaining myself with my own thoughts. I might do it tonight. I want my creativity to extend farther than I ever dreamt possible. I want to roll around in my bed laughing because of how amazing my life is. I want to feel stronger with less. I want to stop thinking about what I want and enjoy what I have. I want to experience my emotions without trying to control them. There are certain things that make us human and tonight I’ve experienced a few. My heart broke several times in the past few hours. My heart broke for Emily who said goodbye to two of her very closest friends for what might be forever. My heart broke when Priyam came over because I love her so much and I know that someday she won’t be just a stone’s throw away. My heart broke because I realized how much I miss Thaddaeus and it made me sad to think of how many new things we could be experiencing together every day. Lastly, my heart broke because some dear friends found me in my room and wiped tears off of my face until my heart broke again. Now, I know what you’re thinking, you think my heart is weak. You think I’m a girl (I am). While these are all valid assumptions, I must inform you that they don’t tell the whole story.

My heart is in top form. My heart could run a full marathon tonight and come home in the morning ready to down some protein powder and immediately do another round of cardio. My heart will kick your butt. Seriously. My heart is learning new karate blocks every single day. This is because I am lucky enough to live in a house where emotions are embraced and hearts are broken for reasons that make our world a better place. Here, in the warm embrace of Dennis Quaid, an emphasis is placed on feeling and not brain function.

I read a short story last week on the airplane about how we should try less to understand the inner workings of our brains and thought. Our brain does something foreign and we flee; we literally grab our keys and wallet and run out the door to the psychiatrist who, "may prescribe psychiatric medication, conduct physical examinations, order and interpret laboratory tests and electroencephalograms, and may order brain imaging studies such as computed tomography or computed axial tomography (CT/CAT Scan), magnetic resonance imaging, and positron emission tomography scanning." Yeah, I got that from Wikipedia. But it makes a really good point. My brain, for example, doesn’t like 50% of the words included in that quote, at all. It passes over them extremely quickly to arrive at “order” and “may” which are a bit more comfortable to me and don’t make me wonder why my brain hurts. Did my brain go into a state of panic and confusion upon seeing words like “electroencephalogram” and “positron emission tomography”? Did my unhappy-neurons fire to warn my brain that I was being exposed to concepts that were intended to make me understand something that might be better left alone? Did these words inspire me to run around my house asking people why I didn’t understand these words and what they meant and to help me analyze how they make me feel and whether or not I might be a prime candidate for these types of therapies???? No, but they certainly could have! For this reason, Lewis Thomas proposes a call to arms; BRING BACK THE ATTIC! He suggests the we reinstate the attic of the brain; remove the step ladder, close the trap door, turn off the nosy flashlight that scans that dark space, and calm down. I will quote Thomas’ intended purpose for this suggestion:

“We might, in this way, regain the kind of spontaneity and zest for ideas,

things popping into the mind, uncontrollable and ungovernable thoughts, the feel that

this notion is somehow connected unaccountably with that one. We could come again into

possession of real memory, the kind of memory that can come only from jumbled

forgotten furniture, old photographs, fragments of music.”

Does that make sense? Who cares. At least one of your neurons probably fired and maybe another one will again someday soon. For now, I just want to feel things. I don’t need to know why. I won’t get this day back and I certainly don’t want to spend it obsessing about why I can’t put myself into another state of mind that I'm equally confused by.

Duh.

raw milk, california.

2010-11-11T21:04:00.000-08:00

A day with Davo is always a treat. Not only do our last names have the same number of letters (thirteen), but we share a love for ice cold kombucha, the celery lady, ping pong, jedi mind tricks, milo, and now... RAW MILK!

We took a nice walk from Eleventh down to the beach as the sun was falling lower onto the horizon. The only thing missing was the pitter patter of Milo's tiny paws (David was too busy wearing his sombrero to remember to bring him).

Soaking up some vitamin D on the way to Morro Bay farmer's market.

roots.

2010-11-09T20:30:00.000-08:00

Last night we hosted a dinner party of ten friends who all sat by the cozy fire sipping wine and sharing apple cobbler. The feast of brushetta, hummus on walnut bread, shrimp alfredo and colorful salad (dreamt up earlier that morning at the Broadway farmer's market) was unabashedly devoured and so the attention was quickly drawn to the blazing fire and surrounding couches. As we settled in, conversation traveled sporadically between two people, and three people, until the mood grew evermore serious and the party converged on the topic of human development.

This is what I gathered:

Each soul is a seed. It lands in a place not of its choosing. Slowly, it sends out tiny roots. These roots are the places that we live, or visit, that have lasting impacts on our lives. Each root taps into a source of nutrients that is sent back to the seed so that it can begin to grow strong. In our lives, these nutrients are different things that inspire us from these particular places; things that we learn from, for example; music, beliefs, cultures, colors, nature, patterns, people. The more nutrients we gather from one particular root, the stronger that root becomes and the more able it is to support us as we grow. Eventually we've set out enough roots to support the upward growth of a tiny tree. This tree develops in a different realm than its roots (above ground rather than below) but it couldn't mature without support of its subsurface counterparts. One day, after the tree has grown as tall as it can with the support it has received, it flowers! Blossoms explode in hilarious hues and this is the moment that we can publicly celebrate the beauty and meaning we've found in life.

Very insightful, Dennis Quaid!

my roots

cambria

seattle

kodiak

peru

hallow's eve !

2010-11-05T14:25:00.000-07:00

Tick-tock, tick tock... The days begin and end how they do. The songbirds wake up along side you so that you're not so lonely as you sip your morning coffee. You thank them kindly; it's nice to know you're not alone before sunrise. You close your heavy eyelids feeling like there must be a way to get through another day. Another day standing between you and the next thing that'll give you a hearty jolt. Is it a trip? a birthday party? NO, it's Hallow's Eve!

Festivities commenced early (and, thus, mischievously) on Friday with a Wallingford family dinner involving steaming portabello mushroom lasagna and rich, spicy, mexican hot chocolate by the crackling fire. Afterwards, Em and I took a drive through the neighborhoods surrounding Seventeenth Avenue to gawk in horror at the frighteningly outlandish, but seemingly casual, costumes donned by those of greek row. It wasn't until Saturday morning that the true dopplegangers started to become an integral part of the holiday. A clown, rebelling against 1920s flapper culture, made friends with a Russian wellborn and they headed off to Oddfellows Cafe (feeling a bit like odd fellows themselves) for a rainy afternoon of coffee, strange glances and bookish daydreams.

Back at home the resident ghost, Kirkpatrick, was out on business for the evening and left no note.