DIY difficulties

How I feel every night as work-work switches over to house-work.

A month and a half ago, the cats and I moved our permanent residence two thousand miles across the country to root in Oakland, California. This marked my first time ever moving back to somewhere I've previously lived (disregarding three summer breaks from college). It’s been a trip, a good trip, to say the least.

My Dots DIY mission, however, is suffering.

I seem to spend all of my time taking care of a thriving adult human – me. Just existing without getting sick or mental breakdown is hard work. Is that sad? Being responsible for your home, your pets, your important relationships, your financial, social and civic duties is non-stop. It can feel like a slog. Then I try to add happiness, or peace, and feel grateful for the opportunity to try.

I hope that’s not sad.

On top of merely staying alive, I want to make pretty and functional things with my hands. But first I have to create some space to enable the creativity (instead of melt-downs) to flow. That sounds like such an excuse, I know. But look at that pile of books and DVDs up there from mid-February. It's even worse now!

With self-forgiveness in my heart and home improvements on my mind, here are a few ideas that have me daydreaming:

Marbelizing something with nail polish

Using chalkboard paint for the first time

Hand stamping a wall

Showcasing my nail polishes

Printing on tea towels

Making long, light necklaces (top, lower left, lower right)

Making my own tinted lip balm

I will also be helping in the construction of three walls, the addition of a sink, and generally turning a large warehouse into a welcoming nest. One revelation in my twenties was how much I like hosting parties large and small (mostly small). I know some of these DIYs are just begging for small gatherings (we'll light the grill I don't have yet, drink homemade beer from the tap that's not ready yet, sit around the table that's currently obstructed...). 

Well, sounds like I better get to work.

Maybe they won't notice

If I had an elaborate tagging system in place, here I'd say, "Fridays in May".

Challenge accepted

You come back from visiting family for a week and your fridge is filled with 4 pounds of carrots, 3 pounds of turnips, and 2 pounds of beets. Those bags on the floor boast onions and squash for days. No need to go to the store for a while. Heck, you even have beer! But to the store you walk with your relentless winter cold.

My food shopping staples are milk, bread, coffee, wine, and citrus. I always need those things. The one thing on that list that I can (supposedly) make myself with relative ease is bread. Therein lies my first cookbook challenge.

I decide to start my challenge a little early (December) because A) I'm slightly obsessed with learning to make staples like a farm slave (AKA female) from The Good Earth, and B) I know this is just round one and round two will technically be in January. And it was. Three loaves of bread later, I've begun the 2014 cookbook challenge.

My book is from The Cheese Board Collective because I miss Berkeley with a passion. I feel this way every January in Chicagoland. If I could get my hands on a sourdough starter (the sourdough in the Midwest certifiably SUCKS... I yearn for Acme) I'd make sourdough but instead I just make their Plain and Simple whole wheat bread. This is toast bread. Sandwich bread. Everything bread.

The first time I make it I halve the recipe. The recipe makes two loaves and I don't want to mess up two on my first try. Better to fail at one. Like the first pancake. This turns out to be a bad decision because the stand mixer that moved into my apartment doesn't work the same on 3 cups of flour as it does on 6. The dough pulls together too fast and I'm led to believe that since it pulled off the sides of the bowl the kneading it done, like the cookbook says. Perhaps elsewhere in the book it warns of this, but not on pages 82-83.

The dough is under-kneaded but I don't quite know this. It nearly rises as it should after the resting periods so I bake it in my new silicone loaf pan (thanks, Santa!). The bread was dense... and delicious!! It reminded me of Vital Vittles Real Bread (another Berkeley memory). I used organic whole wheat bread flour instead of regular whole wheat flour, so I know this bread has extra protein and some fantastic flavor from the flour, which came through my Wisconsin CSA. I'm thoroughly pleased with my bread brick. I'm drinking rye to stay warm and burn off my cold. It's snowing beautifully outside. I don't have to think about work for a few more days. Life is wonderful.

I try again, this time with the whole recipe and 2 loaf pans. This time I used 2/3 bread flour and 1/3 regular. Unfortunately I don't add enough water (sometimes my eyes and brain just abandon reading comprehension) and as a result I nearly overheat the poor stand mixer. Kneading shouldn't be that hard for a machine. I add the missing water, knead again what now looks like undercooked slimy chicken parts, and eventually pull the dough together. It doesn't rise well this time. Too cold? Too tortured? But I bake it anyway and now have two more delicious loaves of dense bread. These are not quite as good as the first loaf (well, they do have better gluten development) simply because the flour from the first batch was superior in taste. But whatever, I made extremely edible bread! Now if only I'd buckle down and learn food photography.

Before January is up I want to try one more time with this recipe before moving on to other yeasted breads. By March I'll probably be opening a sourdough specialty bread store to service Chicagoland, so stay tuned (for more delusions)!

My cuteness with her winter coat. No bread for her.

Book club

Every time I read a good book - which are all the books I choose to read because I'm a vetting machine - a serious bout of narcissism comes over me. You need to read this book right now so that WE can talk about it. READ IT NOW. Do it for MEEEE.

You will benefit too, of course.

I'm pretty sure this is why book clubs start. My vision of book clubs is mingled with wine and cocktails and finger food. Doesn't that sound nice?

The last book that I got heavily righteous about was Dune. I know it became a classic long ago, but I just finally read it. AND YOU SHOULD TOO. Then come over and we'll talk about. Over finger food and booze.

Here is my cuteness protecting the sequel:

Welcome back!

I suppose I'm welcoming myself back, most of all, since I don't know you were ever here before. We (me and all alter egos) hope you find the blog slightly new and improved, or at least a pleasant respite from a lacking day.

In my inaugural year of posts I labeled 16 rants, 16 times about food, dots 5 times, dreamhouse 7, the list continues..... I thought I might find a theme, but the theme is just.. me. Whatever I'm thinking about. I'll see about editing or focussing content if need be, but not now.

So once again, welcome back! I'm gonna aim for one quality post a week from here on out.

Hope to see you around..

Kitty Corner

If I ever have a lot of extra money, would I hire an interior decorator? My mother asked me this recently, to which I replied, "No, I can do it myself! I know what I like." She then said something along the lines of, "Well, honey, it doesn't really appear that way now."

Guilty as charged.

The fact is I do know what I like. I am capable of carrying out the mission. But doing it? That doesn't... happen. For years I've blamed my heavy rotation of less-than-inspiring rentals. Why bother? Excuses, excuses. Getting ideas from the brain to my body - prioritizing, doing - that's my challenge.

However there is one area in my home which garners an occasional compliment - my kitty corner. I thought my cats might like to eat in an art gallery. I'm not sure they notice or care, but it sure makes me happy. 

Would an experienced interior designer think of this? If so, I hope to find her if an when I have buckets of "extra money".

Best green chair ever, Edward Hopper, arches in Scotland, random old calendar picture, and my Cuteness

Getting grounded

Who doesn't love pottery? Seriously, tell me who they are so that I can avoid them. Mugs, bowls, pitchers, trays, pots, sculptures, mother fucking spoon rests... I love it all. Correction - I love some of it all. I love looking at it, making it, and most of all, using it on a daily basis.

Pottery grounds me. Playing with clay I forget much else. It's a lot like gardening. Getting dirty with actual dirt (and clay). Nurturing, coaxing, whispering sweet nothings to a little life form that will please you or feed you. 

Perfection need not apply. 

Here are a votive holder and salt pig I made last year when my pottery studio (AKA local high school art room) had the following glaze colors: light brown, dark brown, red wine poop, bile, dead tree, and liver spot.

If salt pigs are "in" or come "in", I'm taking all the credit.

And here are some much more professional selections from Etsy - which has a HUGE selection of affordable, awesome pottery.

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve

The yellow mug and its matching soup bowl will be mine. Oh yes. They will be mine. Someone please come over and break one of my non-handmade mugs.

Happy and warm

I love me some orange:

Looks I get

Angel

I sometimes think this cat must be an angel of all that is good.

Day in the life

What a lovely day. I wonder what I should do next.

Cuteness, defined

For those of you who know my tabby calico kitty, you know she is the cutest and sweetest cat alive. She makes my insides ache. She makes me see double rainbows. She makes me feel like Lenny from Of Mice and Men. She's the cat's meow.

Here are some pictures of this angel when she was just under a year old, and newly welcomed into my humble home. Now this, is cute overload.

Cuteness, defined