Klosekraft

This bodes well.

I love hiking. I love trekking through the woods and breathing in all of that freshly chlorophyll-scrubbed air (not quite as exhilarating as salt air, but it's up there), hauling myself up a big, steep hill and then plopping down at the top to eat something while looking out over a wide expanse of green. If I'm lucky, as I was on Sunday, there will be some interesting plant and animal life to check out: half a dozen or so buzzards riding the air currents just below us (I always think they're eagles at first because of the light heads), a tiny orange salamander with teensy neon spots, oodles of wildflowers (I need to get a good reference guide to them; the only ones I could identify were phlox, buttercups and honeysuckle: a truly pathetic showing for a would-be naturalist), spittle bugs, the first jack in the pulpit I think I've ever seen in the wild:

He's so dapper!

The boding well in the title is the ease of reaching the Appalachian Trail by Metro-North and the effect it'll have on my summer. Because as much as I love hiking, I haven't done much of it in the last few years because it's such a hassle to get anywhere without a car. But this is a nice, relaxed ride, under two hours, perfect for getting some knitting done, and drops off right at the trailhead. It's a nice section of the AT, challenging enough that I felt I was really getting a workout, but with enough less difficult parts to keep up morale. And there are enough variables to the trail at the point—different directions to head off, different destinations—to keep it interesting on multiple visits.

I tend to like the people I meet out in the woods too, like the couple in their 60s who were taking three months off to hike from southern Pennsylvania to the Maine end of the trail. Zoe and I ended up hiking the whole day with a very sweet young guy who was on the train with us. He hasn't been in New York that long and doesn't really know anyone and works with lawyers who think it's really weird that he wants to do things like hike and lives at the ass end of Jersey City with two roommates he found on Craigslist: women in their 40s who didn't tell him until after he moved in that they have TWELVE CATS. (He saw four when he saw the place and was like, well, that's a lot but whatever. Then he kept seeing more and different cats and finally was all, how many cats do you guys have anyway?) He wants to take advantage of being in New York, but doesn't really know where to go or what to do. We ended up feeling very protective and big-sisterly toward him and overwhelmed him a little with entreaties to find somewhere else to live and lists of ways to meet people and places to go and things to do. Twelve cats. I just can't get over that.

So I predict that I'll be doing a lot of hiking well into the late fall. And I couldn't be happier about it.

Gorgeous photos!

I came across this article today (linked from somewhere, can't remember):

How to Be an Alaskan Fisherman

The text is interesting, but the photographs really blew me away. I love getting these kinds of glimpses into other people's lives.

It could happen.

I think I need to start a photo file somewhere in case I ever take a trip to Vietnam*, because I've heard that there is a district of seriously amazing and cheap custom tailors/dressmakers in Ho Chi Minh City who can copy any photo or make anything that you can describe. (I briefly dated a guy who traveled to Asia a couple times a year, designed all of his clothes and had them custom-made there. He was a bit of a dandy.) First, I would have them make eleventy thousand copies of an H+M shirtdress that I've had for years and which remains one of my favorite, most flattering, most wearable things in my closet. I would have it made in linen for summer and lightweight wool for the rest of the year in many, many colors and patterns and I would retire all of my other clothes. Then I would have them make this coat to wear over all of my dresses:

Cool assymetrical closing, nice combination of fitted and voluminous, great big pockets... It's by an esoteric company called Penelope's Sphere who seem to only sell their clothes in Berlin and Moscow. (found via Shiny Squirrel)

*I'm not going to Vietnam anytime soon. I'd like to, but there are plenty of other places on the list ahead of it, starting with Turkey, Scandinavia, Croatia/Hungary and Alaska. 

Food Network competition

Read about it here.

I feel like I should at least submit something. The problem is that most of the recipes I could claim as original just aren't that interesting or innovative, like one of my favorite sandwiches: an english muffin with muenster, toasted until the cheese is melted and a little browned, topped with sliced avocado and some large-grain salt. Delicious? yes. Original? sure—it dates back to one day when I was hungry and only had english muffins, muenster and an avocado around the house. The Ultimate Recipe? Doubtful. Most of my cooking involves screwing around with an existing recipe and doesn't really count. It's the same debate knitters have periodically: at what point does modifying a pattern turn it into a new design? I'd rather err on the side of caution when it comes to ripping off other people's work.

I have an ice cream flavor at the back of my mind that has definite possibilities, but it doesn't fit into any of the categories. I'll try out some pasta ideas over the next few days and see if any of them are worth sending in.

Anyone else entering anything?

Firstly

The first flowers I bought myself in the apartment:

Carnations get a bad rap, undeservedly in my opinion. These are gorgeous: a rich, buttery custard color edged and flecked with  cerise, like a trifle in inexpensive, long-lasting floral form.

And the first lunch I made myself on my first lazy Saturday at home:

The salad is two parts black beans to one part corn, with half a red bell pepper and a chopped avocado. Sprinkle with cumin, lime juice, a glug of olive oil and a pinch of salt. Plain cheese quesadillas are good for scooping it up. There was a time in my life when I made large quantities of something very similar to this (minus the avocado, plus rice and spinach) and always had some on hand to eat by the bowlful or use for burritos or make into a frittata...

And I went to the new location of the bulgarian bar for the first time, saw one of my favorite local bands, and had my first Astika. It's not even on the long list of my favorite beers according to taste, but I'm pretty sure I'd never had Bulgarian beer before, so that counts for something.

Friday afternoon

Today at the office, we've been talking about our favorite books when we were children. So much fun! I reread some of the ones I still have copies of every so often anyway, like the Narnia books or A Wrinkle in Time or The Dream Watcher or Jennifer, Hecate, Macbeth, William McKinley and me, Elizabeth or Bridge to Terabithia or The Giver. But I definitely want to revisit some old favorites that I haven't touched since I was little: The Sign of the Beaver, Island of the Blue Dolphins, all the Nancy Drews, The Secret Garden. And I've been wanting to reread all of the Laura Ingalls books. And the Anastasia Krupnik series.

I'm all moved into the new place, but won't have internet access until this weekend, fingers crossed. I haven't been able do do anything with my Ravelry invite. So sad, especially since it seems like every blog I read is talking about it. It's supposed to be pretty dreary all weekend, so it's a good one for unpacking and settling in and hanging pictures and all that fun stuff.

Some cool stuff this week:
The Eleanor Grosch prints at Day-Lab. More here. I ordered the Springbok and Guinea Fowls for my kitchen, which is going to be where I hang all of my small, quirky artwork. I was happy to see the series because I like her work, but her line for Keds is a little lot too cutesy for my taste. The only ones I'd be tempted by are the raccoons — if it weren't for that weird shearling trim. Why anyone would put shearling on a pair of shoes that are clearly destined to be paired with breezy summer dresses is beyond me. They won't be getting my $24, that's for damn sure.

The Martha Stewart tissue paper pom-poms. I don't think the photos that go with the tutorial would have tempted me if I hadn't seen this photo. A couple of metallic silver ones might show up in my kitchen soon.

This recipe. D made it for me Monday night after the final apartment clean-out and the turning over of the keys and it was so good that I made it again Wednesday night when I realized that all the leftovers were gone. It's easy, cheap and makes a ton of food that's good hot, cold or room temperature (best when it's hot though). D doubled the amount of beans and used half a tablespoon of red pepper flakes instead of half a teaspoon, both excellent modifications.

I found out today that someone I know in a totally different, work-related capacity is a knitter and spinner and has a blog. You hit a couple of knitters every time you wave a stick around in this city, but spinners are a rarer breed. It only came up because I made a crack about something having worked out because I sacrificed a goat and, after a little back and forth about where do you even find a sacrificial goat?, she said something about going to a sheep and wool festival. 

Goldilocks: Urban Scavenger Edition

So, several weeks ago, I found a lamp on the street.

I didn't like the faded brass color or the dingy shade, but it definitely had potential. After a trip to Lowe's where the paint department guy weirdly explained to me that "kids use [spray paint] for graffiti; you know, that's when they paint on buildings," while he unlocked the cabinet where they kept the paint and I mean, I know I come across as A Nice Girl, but really? I look like someone who doesn't even know what graffiti is?, I spray-painted it glossy white and set out to find a shade.

One thing I really like about New York are the areas where you have clusters of many places selling the same thing: the Flower District, the Bead District, the Garment District and, on the Bowery for several blocks south of Delancey, the Lamp District. (It might be a little hard to see in the photo, but all of those storefronts are lighting shops.)

I went into one random shop on the Bowery and asked if they sold just the shades, "No, hon," the propriatrix said, "go to Broome Street." So I wandered down to Broome and went into the place on the corner. Did they sell lampshades? No, further down the block. A little ways down the block there was an open garage space with a few piles of small lampshades. Aha!, I thought, this must be it, and asked the guy if he had bigger shades. A few doors down, he told me. What the hell?, I was wondering by now, is there a magical wonderland of lampshades around here? Well, yes.

All lampshades, all the time.

When I started poking around the wares, I realized that optic white may not have been the best choice of paint, since very few lampshades are equally as white and a lot of the more interesting belled shapes just weren't an option. I brought home one that was too long:

I went back and came home with one that was too short:

Finally, after smartening up a little and taking some freaking measurements, I found one that's Just Right.

I have to touch up the paint on the chandelier parts and fix the one that's off kilter, but otherwise, I'm very happy.

Moving tomorrow!

Probably cardboard.

Since I'm on deadline at work and in the throes of packing/cleaning/moving, and am spending 95% of my waking time thinking about one of those two subjects, I've pretty much become the world's most boring human. Do you think the tiara that goes along with the WMBH title is made of cardboard or newpaper?

However, since I hate to let the blog lie fallow for too long and I'm pretty sure that no one wants to hear about the evenings I'm spending scouring old grease off various surfaces in the new kitchen with brillo pads and elbow grease (the old tenants fried a LOT), I decided to give some of my own awards to attendees of the Met's Costume Institute party Monday night. Lots more photos over here.

The party was to celebrate the opening of the Poiret exhibition. He's one of my favorite designers. His work was groundbreaking and thrilling and I can't wait to see the show.

Most Unfairly Snarked About: Kirsten Dunst

I don't care what the Fug Girls say, I think she looks fantastic. She's dressed in keeping with the theme of the exhibition without being literal about it. The color is gorgeous. Although, if I were going to give mean-spirited awards, which I won't, she would be a contender for the attendee with the yuckiest date. Jeans? Couldn't be bother to shave? And in an obviously 'didn't bother' way; in no universe is that a sexy scruff.

Best Headband: Zani Gugelman

Also a candidate for best color gown and gown that I totally covet and would want to wear if I ever went to any galas.

Best Use of Hair and Make-up to Reference the 20s Without Going Overboard: Kate Bosworth

Dress That Most Resembles an Actual Poiret: Jessican Stam

Best Freaking Dress: my longtime girl-crush Charlotte Gainsbourg

Even those clodhoppers on her feet can't distract me from the true awesomeness of that dress.

Greatest National Treasure: Andre Leon Talley

The world lacks genuinely larger than life personas (another reason to mourn Isabella Blow), especially ones who are so cheerful and exuberant.

Apt.

My horoscope for today:
Now is the time to apply some extra diligence to your latest task! A great deal of progress can be made if you just stick to it. So you'd be very wise to put on a pair of blinders and just keep pressing forward today. Avoid distractions of any kind, no matter how interesting or flirtatious they might be. It's true that if you keep your head down, you'll miss the view, but right now your current surroundings are nowhere near as important as where you're going.

My tasks:
Putting discarded furniture out on the sidewalk where it will be snatched up in a hot minute.
Packing!
Going over to the new place and cleaning everything I didn't get to the other night.

Potential distractions:
Cherry blossoms at the peak of perfection at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden
Checking out spring produce at the greenmarket
Anything outdoors, really

In the wee small hours of the morning

Ideally, I would be sleeping now.

In fact, I was sleeping about an hour ago until some women leaving a bar discovered that their truly enormous SUV, which they had parked across the street from my apartment, blocking the driveway to a parking garage, had been covered in bags of garbage.  Presumably by someone who would otherwise have parked in that garage. They set about to shrieking like they were being thrust into the bowels of hell, only this was more about disrespect and coming outside to say that to their faces and less about brimstone and red-hot pokers.

And now I have the lists and the worries and the idle thoughts that just need thinking running an endless loop in my mind and I can't get back to sleep. I don't feel like reading or watching tv or whatever it was I used to do back in my early 20s when I slept an average of four hours a night. So I made a cup of tea and will type out the random until... Until it's done, I guess.

Why isn't anyone I know up at 2:00 in the morning? I'd rather be chatting than typing.

The move! The move. themove themove themove. I know that's where a lot of the current anxiety is coming from. Is it the right place for me? Was taking this apartment a good decision? Could I have found somewhere better if I had looked a little longer? Maybe somewhere that a super loud and annoying ice cream truck doesn't park quite so close to even at almost 9 pm on a weeknight in early May?

Who knows? It doesn't actually matter if this is the absolute best possible option out there, which is an undeniably pragmatic position but feels right. I like the apartment itself. I spent some time there tonight after work  and kept noticing details that I hadn't caught when I was there before. Ceiling fans in the bedroom and living room. A built-in full-length mirror. A deeper-than-average bathtub. A built-in table in the kitchen — it collapses and folds down against the wall; it was hidden behind all of the extra refrigerators when I was there before. They didn't paint the kitchen, but it turns out to be a light, bright periwinklish color that I really like, so I'm glad. The other rooms are off-white now, rather than salmon and navy blue (I'll never understand), which makes a huge difference. I had asked if I could keep the air conditioner that the previous tenants left, and it was still there so: yes, I guess.

So many boring, move-related details to attend to. Listing them is much too dreary an enterprise for late-night typing. (let along reading—good grief! I wouldn't impose that on anyone.)

What else? I found an old boyfriend's keys when I was packing the stuff in my desk drawers. I threw them out, which felt like it should have been a grandly symbolic gesture, but lacked whatever residual emotions are required for grand symbolism.

I'm not going to have a tv when I move. I watch dvds on my computer anyway, since my monitor is  much nicer than the rapidly deteriorating tv/vcr I bought in 1994. Between netflix and being able to watch shows the next day on network websites, I don't really need a regular tv. I think I've actually seen every episode of pre-Dennis Farina Law and Order at least three times, sometimes many, many more. I'm pretty sure that means I broke television.

I'm looking forward to making ice cream again. One of the food blogs (maybe 101 Cookbooks?) had frozen yogurt from David Lebovitz's book up today and it looked divine. No links, getting sleepy.

Finally.