Blythe Spirit

Vacancy

So! Apparently I’m taking the month of April off from writing my blog. Sorry for the late notice.

Until I come back, you might want to try:

-Making The Pioneer Woman’s Pasta Primavera. We had it for dinner last night and it felt so nice and healthy, especially when we didn’t think about the heavy cream bathing all those veggies. Also, “Primavera” means “Spring.”

-I bought one of this guy’s posters for Theo’s room and I love it. I’m thinking about buying another one. Which is your favorite?

-Every time I do one of these link posts I send you to Mimi Smartypants but can you blame me? Her daughter says stuff like this:
“Quick! I will hide in my secret lair! My secret lair is really this area in front of my closet, but what are you gonna do.”

Ruminations on Shoe Shopping

-DSW apparently believes large-footed women do not deserve cute shoes.
-Proof of Jessica Simpson’s height-impairedness: heel height of her shoe designs
-Is there something wrong with me if I buy a pair of Dr. Scholls shoes? Like, medically wrong?
-Salesperson, please do not take a shopper’s query about shoe comfort as the opportunity to create a one-woman show about your European vacation for all the store to hear. Those Europeans, they walk EVERYWHERE. We get it.
-What’s ickier: Carrying my own sweaty trouser sock around in my purse for unexpected shoe shopping emergencies, or using those disposable nude nylon footies that inevitably pop off while I’m in mid-stride on the way to the mirror?
-New shoes are the gateway drug to new jeans (need the right length for heel height), followed by Anthropologie sweaters (on sale!), followed by trench coats (must look pulled-together now that pretty shoes and jeans have been acquired).

Universe to Blythe

You know those days when it seems like the universe is speaking straight to you? Well, that happened to me recently except it was just my Google Reader, not the whole universe. Which is less intimidating anyway.

Jeff and I watched Iron Man over the weekend, and fifteen minutes in he said, “If I’d known what this movie was actually about, I would have wanted to see it a long time ago. But the previews made it look like it was just a big comic book superhero film.” And then I read this on kottke.org, an excerpt from a depressing article about movie marketing. No wonder previews barely resemble the movies they’re pitching.

And then I was trying to figure out if I should send out some Valentines, but it would be more fun to make them, but I’m kind of lazy. And this list of free downloadable Valentine cards appeared in my life.

I started subscribing to Penelope Trunk’s blog recently and her latest post, Don’t Try to Dodge the Recession with Grad School could have been a missive straight to the me of 1993, except I wasn’t dodging a recession, I was dodging, well, real life. It’s really smart advice.

My Crock Pot has been beckoning. So tonight I’m cooking these shredded beef sandwiches.

Don’t even ask me how I found this, but I totally love it, it’s an article by Guy Kawasaki about all the stuff that online companies do to drive away business. It’s like he read my mind and made a laundry list of the stuff I HATE when I’m trying to get stuff done on the web.

And this list of People Who Are On Twitter just made me laugh. Especially since I am also on Twitter and I recently started following Shaquille O’Neal. (By the way, if you haven’t joined Twitter, you totally should. It’s like having a blog without really having a blog.)

Exchanges

I was an exchange student in high school. I spent my junior year in Europe, drinking beer in bars and eking out passing grades and hanging around with all the other exchange students on weekends. It won’t surprise you to learn that it was a life-changing, personality-defining experience for me. I had grown up surrounded by wonderful friends and family in my small town, but I’d never felt like I belonged there, and I had the sneaking suspicion that I was going to live my life as a bit of an outsider. So among the many, many lessons I learned that year was the revelation that not everywhere is like the place I came from. (I also learned just how long I could remain clothed without doing laundry, and the difference between apple cider and hard cider.) And as elementary as that might seem, it’s a realization that happens to almost everyone when they leave home for the first time. I’d read about foreign lands in the newspaper and books (I practically morphed into an English schoolgirl during my obsession with Noel Streatfield‘s novels), but until I saw these new places or just met someone from somewhere else, the whole idea wasn’t real at all. But, of course, after that year abroad surrounded by other exchange students from Croatia and Portugal and New Zealand and Liberia, I stopped thinking of those countries as spots in my eighth grade geography book and started associating them with real live human beings.

So you can imagine that last weekend’s shooting in downtown Portland, where a group of Rotary exchange students waiting to get into an all-ages dance club was hit by multiple rounds of random gunfire, and where two of those students, an American preparing for her time abroad and a Peruvian student spending the year in the US were both killed, affected me deeply. And my sadness was compounded by what I remembered hearing from my European friends about their fears of American cities, about crazy people with access to firearms. I could just imagine what people in those exchange students’ home countries were saying, that their frightened parents were already planning to fly straight to Portland and collect them all and take them home to safe places outside our dangerous country.

So when I heard a radio interview with the father of one of the survivors, an Italian girl who was shot approximately nine times and who is still unconscious, I almost wept right there in my car:
“We’d like that she continue the (exchange) experience,” her father said. Cultural exchanges open minds and improve the world, and violence and tragedy can “happen anyplace.”
He’s right, and though I’m not sure I could have the same kind of faith and optimism if I were in his position, I’m so glad he said it, and I hope it’s still true.

Work It

I’m in the middle of a leeeeetle wardrobe crisis (maybe that problem I had with the dress was a sign of impending clothing difficulties). I did a massive closet purge when we moved to Germany, getting rid of, among other enviable items, the plaid wool pants I bought the week after I landed my first real job in 1993. Then I did another one when we left, hauling away the clothes I’d worn to work for ten years before we left the USA without noticing that the trouser legs were frayed beyond repair or that they had started to look, well, ten years old. So I’m proud to say I no longer own a bunch of clothing I never wear. I have a nice array of sweaters and t-shirts that go with a good selection of jeans. Theo, my main fashion audience, approves wholeheartedly.

However. Today was the first day at my NEW JOB. Eep! This development is cause for anxiety on a multitude of fronts, but I’ve decided to focus on clothing, because I’d rather worry about that than about getting my son to day care in time to get to work, or whether I’m going to be capable of adult conversation on a regular basis, or if I’m just better at being a kept woman than someone with an income.

Fortunately this new gig is only three days a week, so I figure I should line up six outfits. I can’t remember what anyone I know wore two weeks ago, can you? And I’m not going to shoot for the stars. I don’t want to be known for my fashion sense, or be a trend-setter. Mainly, I’d just like to look vaguely professional and periodically hear “That’s a great sweater” every now and then. And because I know how easily I can become the person who puts on a grey turtleneck and a pair of black pants and some comfortable black shoes and wears that same outfit every day, I will attempt to wear a few colorful items here and there. So I’m going to start posting photos at The Working Closet Flickr pool to remind myself to actually take a look in the mirror every morning. I know you’ll enjoy those snaps as they march past in the Flickr widget to your right.

As for the job, I’m excited about it although getting out of bed this morning just about KILLED me. But then there was a Danish in the break room and I was reminded that being gainfully employed has its positive aspects.

Why I Am Not Now, Nor Have I Ever Been, Cool

I spent most of today on my own, shopping for odds and ends and visiting some cool fabric stores (when did I become someone who enjoys visiting multiple fabric stores in one day?), roasting potatoes and leeks for homemade soup, and just basking in the aloneness. Theo spent the day with a sitter and I cannot express just how much I needed that time today. The past three weeks were fun and the family togetherness was great and the fact that Jeff was around all day for most of the time made it fantastic. It might sound goofy but we’re all happiest when our family is together, just hanging out and doing our thing.

On the other hand, togetherness has its limits, and between our weather-related quarantine and plenty of time spent on tiny regional airplanes with three people in two seats, I was ready (shall we say DYING) for some new scenery. So on my day off, I decided to head to one of the hip and happening neighborhoods in my fair city. I wore my groovy new necklace (made from a Scrabble tile!) and cute boots and anticipated eating an tuna-and-caper tosti for lunch and fitting right in with the hipsters. After exiting a fabric store where I bought nothing but coveted everything, I spotted a vintage clothing and furniture store across the street. Perfect! I would browse for stylish bargains! I would find a sixties-era chair to re-cover with modern fabric! I would buy vinyl record albums!

So I entered and checked out the wares and appreciated the enticing descriptions on the safety-pinned paper price tags (“You NEED this retro floral couch! $85″). I picked out a sweet summer dress that was clearly stitched by some sixties housewife. Its pleats were perfect. It would be just the thing for summer. Would it fit? As if by magic, the sales attendant materialized and pointed me toward the dressing room. I smiled and said thanks, wandering off as I appreciated my city, where a fifty-five-year-old man in a hot-rollered wig, a rhinestone sweater, and lip gloss works in retail sales. Here I am with the hipsters, I thought.

So I tried on the dress and it fit like it was tailored for me. The fabric was thin, I’d need some kind of foundation garment, but that’s OK. For ten bucks, it could be mine. And I reached back to unzip it and realized the zipper wasn’t going anywhere. And neither was the dress. And I stood there in my argyle knee-highs and see-through yellow day dress and figured, what the hell, I don’t really have a choice. So I exited the dressing room and found the attendant and asked for help with my zipper. “Up or down?” was the reply. “Down, please,” I said.

And that’s how I ended up practically exposing myself in the aisle of a resale shop, being undressed by a transvestite (who, incidentally, had to break the zipper to get me out of the dress, so I didn’t end up buying it). It’s really too bad Theo wasn’t around to see it. Maybe I’ll try to re-enact the whole thing for him when he’s thirteen and has had too much family time.

It’s a New Day

I’m a little exhausted by all the end-of-year wrap-ups that surround me. Magazines, TV shows, blogs, twitter, everyone resolving and reflecting and I just can’t seem to catch a quiet moment to think about this stuff for myself. I love Linda’s questionnaire and it’s sort of been hanging over my head all week, and I’ve just realized that I’m not going to get it done. Why can’t I find time to reflect on 2008?

Maybe because this year has been a less-than-great one for so many of my friends and acquaintances – lost jobs and difficult relationships and even the little stuff like bad weather over the holiday season that put a damper on Christmas this year. And I want so much for 2009 to be better for all of us. I want to feel calmer and in better control of just about everything in my life. But as much as I’d like to put 2008 behind me, I don’t feel ready for this bright new year of possibilities. My house isn’t clean, we haven’t even opened half of our Christmas gifts yet, and even my to-do list is unfinished. But the calendar page is going to turn whether I like it or not. Whether I’m ready or not. So here I come.

Snow Patrol

We had a bunch of plans for today, but instead we did this:

It’s been snowing for more than twelve hours and it looks like the drifts will be here for a while. My Montanan friends are not impressed, but I think I’ve officially become a wintertime wimp. And I live in a place where I’ve never actually seen a snowplow in real life, and where we make any possible excuse to stay inside and eat chocolate cake. It works for us. We also live on a big hill, so the cars are staying parked for now. We’d planned a big family birthday party for Jeff this afternoon but no one wanted to risk life and limb to get here, so we were forced to eat his raspberry fudge birthday cake ourselves. There are lots of leftovers, so I have the feeling the cake going to be the center of our culinary plan for the next few days. I know you feel sorry for us.

Here you go.

-I threw a little holiday shindig last night, mostly just as an excuse to make The Pioneer Woman’s Holiday Bacon Appetizers. It’s the recipe you’ve been waiting for. I also whipped up some Guac with Pears and Pomegranate Seeds (via MightyGirl). Food for meat-eaters and veggies alike, that’s my party mantra.

-We’ve got a bunch of plans for the weekend, all of which involve being out and about, so if this storm the forecasters are promising actually arrives, I won’t be impressed. But I recall from the last winter I spent here that the weather drama is normally confined to local newsrooms and one or two poor newscasters shivering in the rain on freeway overpasses, waiting for snowflakes.

-I hadn’t entered a Nordstrom store in ages, so yesterday when I finally got there I didn’t want to go home. They have nice bathrooms, clothing and shoes, and a nearby cafe. Why should I ever leave?

-The best thing about owning a DVR is that I can watch the Charlie Brown Christmas specials anytime I want.

Go Away

I’m waffling about whether or not to do NaBloPoMo this year. There are so many excuses not to, but then again, what the hell.

As I mull over this dilemma, feel free to read what I’ve written elsewhere. If you’re into that sort of thing:

-Win a pair of cool kids’ shoes over at Mamas Worldwide.
-Check out all the great kids’ activities in Portland, OR at Alpha Mom.
-Learn how to keep your teenager happy (or, well, keep the eye-rolling to a minimum) at Alpha Mom’s Guide to Everything.