The Little Red Blog of Revolutionary Knitting

Bike Night at the Hammer April 14!!!

2011-04-01T09:36:00.000-07:00

Bike Night at the Hammer! is happening once again on April 14. Totally psyched to be presenting the BMX classic film RAD! It took Claudia a whole lot of sleuthing, but she finally found a 35mm copy of the 1986 film.

This is the third springtime Bike Night event at the Hammer Museum, and, again, we'll have free vegan food and a lot of other stuff happening in the courtyard. Also the museum will be open late so you can catch some art while you're there.

Attended bike parking, and it's all free! Rad will be shown 35mm in the Billy Wilder Theater and projected video in the courtyard. So rad.

Art Fair!

2011-01-28T11:19:00.000-08:00

Got a flat tire on the way to the fair. Maybe that's why I look like such a monster in this photo!

A new year is also just another day.

2011-01-03T09:29:00.000-08:00

After finishing the red cardigan, I made a couple of hats. One is already lost! The other is keeping my head toasty. A third was a failure. I bought some pretty amazing hand-spun camel hair and made a hat for Louis, but the natural color of the camel doesn't look great on him and the camel hair doesn't have a lot of natural elasticity, so I don't like the way it fits. I'm going to unravel that one and use the yarn for I'm not sure what. Now I'm making a very simple saddle-shouldered sweater out of Norwegian wild-sheep wool. I'm hoping to finish it by the time I visit Norway in March, but so far there is only one sleeve that is mostly done. It's pretty easy knitting so far, just mindless to go around and around in circles and can be done anywhere, from faculty meetings to dinner parties to sports bars. On the subject of sports bars, I just wanted to note that the unfortunately named "Big Wangs" in DTLA has a vegetarian chicken wing that has fake wooden "bones" and is super-delicious. So don't let that vegetarian lifestyle interfere with your life as a beer-drinking fight/game-watching knitter.

The cats brought 2011 the same way that they left 2010, by being super cute and perfect. Bob has spent the last week working in the back hallway on their new litter box. We are calling it the Taj Mahal because it is completely over-the-top. Daisy and Clyde's litter box includes custom cabinetry, a sink, and a counter top. Drawers below the counter are on heavy-duty sliders so that the litter boxes can be pulled out for cleaning. The girls will access their two private spaces through cute mousehole shaped openings. Custom LED lighting is still up for discussion. Do cats need light in order to do their business?

The new year began with Louis and I hanging out on the couch in the living room. We had some people over for dinner, which is why the ugly cat-protection blanket has been removed from the couch. Looks much better this way, but maybe we just appreciate it more since we never get to see it uncovered. Clyde was too shy to appear in the photo. Sweet thing.
2011 is on!

Do Ask Do Tell Sort of Available!

2010-12-22T11:59:00.000-08:00

Now that "Don't Ask Don't Tell" has been overturned, it's time to celebrate "Do Ask Do Tell!"
When I first designed this piece a few months ago, I thought of it as a protest to the military ban on gays serving openly. But, unlike most of my work, this piece was designed to be manufactured as an edition, and history moved forward at a faster pace than institutional approval and production. So now, it's not a protest- it's a celebration!
In my work, I like to be able to design and wear something pretty quickly, while the topic at hand is fresh. So it's always a challenge to design something that might not move at my own pace. I'm interested in the way that time can change the work, and how the freshness of the topic can be interpreted over days and years.
We're officially in the era of "Do Ask Do Tell" now, but the kinks are still being worked out in the military. They have to somehow figure out how all this asking and telling is going to happen, how to make a bureaucratic process out of coming out.

This limited edition of wearable or displayable knitwear will be available at the Hammer Museum bookstore. They are being produced as we speak, here in Los Angeles, and they should be ready in the next few weeks. Pre-orders are being taken on the Hammer website. The color of the sample piece is pink and black, but the "real" ones will be purple and black and knit from super soft merino wool. Do Tell!

Do Ask Do Tell!

2010-12-14T23:10:00.000-08:00

Just missing the buttons...

2010-12-04T08:49:00.000-08:00

I think I started this sweater over a year ago. Seems like forever, but it's finally finished!

I got the yarn last June at Prick Your Finger in London. The pattern is from an old Jack Frost knitting book. It weighs about a million pounds, and has a lovely sheen. I think the sleeves are about half an inch too long but other than that, it seems to fit perfectly! I just have to add buttons now and it will really be finished.

Daisy's new hat!

2010-11-25T14:20:00.000-08:00

I made a hat from Norwegian wild sheep wool and put it near the window to take a picture of it, and it wasn't long before Daisy came by and claimed it for the feline kingdom. I'd made cat toys previously with this same wool, and perhaps she thought that everything I made with it belonged to her. The hat is a little big on her but it fits me well. I knit it from the top, starting with six stitches and adding another six every other row until there were enough to go around my head.

That little devil of a cat

The gray alone was a bit dull so I spiced it up with some stripes of handpainted merino. This was a good use for this yarn, which I'd fallen in love with as a skein but then had no idea what to do with it. I made some wrist warmers and they were a disaster, a cacophony of color.

Witchy!

Also, I have learned that spinning wool into yarn is bit like alchemy and very magical, perhaps even magickal.

Come Home Louis!

2010-10-24T11:53:00.000-07:00

Louis has gone away for the weekend and I have gone completely feral. I turned the living room into a photo studio and have subsisted on potato chips, chocolate, beer and coffee. I messed up my back, got punched in the face, and went to a sports bar to watch a fight. That man better get home soon so I can go back to being civilized. What a mess.

Is this funny?

2010-10-10T16:29:00.000-07:00

Autumn!

2010-09-19T19:43:00.000-07:00

The summer bounty of the garden is winding down. Leaves are turning brown. In the front yard, we've stopped picking fresh beans in favor of letting them plump up and dry up on the vine. When the pods are crunchy, it's time to harvest them.

The beans are shelled and the seeds are saved for next year. We might even cook some of the large seeds, maybe with some pasta. We have a lot of beans this year!

As I pick the beans, Abby watches from the porch. For some reason, she's stopped frequenting the backyard in favor of the front. She thinks we'll feed her out front from now on, and of course, she's right. We'll do whatever she wants.

God Hates Us All

2010-08-21T13:36:00.000-07:00

Nothing quite says "church belt" like the following photos of churches (and one mosque) taken between my house and the gym. They are all on Jefferson. "Nu Soul" only has its sign up when it's open, so that one isn't represented. My neighborhood also features plenty of liquor stores and whores, probably because the churchgoers present a steady stream of clientele for their products and services.

Plant Portraits!

2010-08-16T15:26:00.000-07:00

Made some plant portraits for Machine Project's Plant Vacation at the Hammer. See them all here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/machineproject/sets/72157624738055766/

Evening Rides in Summer

2010-08-16T12:10:00.000-07:00

The best place to watch the sunset is from the seat of a bicycle.

Just when we thought there wouldn't be any more beans....

2010-08-15T12:08:00.000-07:00

We were about to let the beans just go to seed, but went out one more time just to see what was growing on the vines, and there were a bazillion! We filled the big bowl with them, and, for the most part, they were in pretty good shape. Usually, when the beans are at the end, they get all short and curly, and this had started happening awhile back, but they seem to be getting a second wind now. Not sure what's going on, but we're happy to eat them!

Beans, beans, beans! In the bowl. I know what I'll be eating for dinner!

The vines are starting to get a bit yellow in spots, but it seems like our cool summer has extended their life. Three cheers for climate change!

The beanstalks in the front yard.

This carnivore doesn't know what she's missing!

Another Cat Toy!

2010-08-05T22:12:00.000-07:00

On my first visit to meet Puzzles, I didn't want to arrive empty handed. Knowing how much my cats love their Norwegian wild sheep wool toy, I thought Puzzles might like one too, so I whipped this up. If you want to make one too, the recipe is in Invisible Threads in Knitting. Well, yeah, you could make it up pretty easily, but you should have this book anyhow, because Annemor Sundbø is amazing.
Puzzles didn't seem too impressed with the toy, I'm hoping it will grow on her. Not literally, of course.

Off to the plant vacation at the Hammer Museum!

2010-07-31T16:23:00.001-07:00

Remember when this blog used to be about knitting?

2010-07-28T16:40:00.001-07:00

I've been knitting the same sweater since last fall. I'm halfway through the second sleeve. Knitting in Millenium Park at the classical music concert. Is it rude to email from the concert?
I'm likely the only person under sixty in the crowd tonight. Where are the young people?
PS. Slayer is better music to knit by.

Is this supposed to be food????

2010-07-20T12:28:00.000-07:00

The Beans are Back in Town

2010-07-19T12:05:00.000-07:00

Beans! Beans! Beans! This year's crop has been pretty abundant. The cool days in early July really seemed to give the plants some time to grow and at the end of the first week of July we had our first meal of beans.

The beans in question are purple pole beans from Calabria. Louis is absolutely crazy for them and some days that's all we eat.

Yesterday, he was sitting in the garden staring at the plants and having a cup of espresso. I asked him what he'd like for breakfast, and he said "beans." So I went inside and cooked up a batch of beans with potatoes. It's a super delicious and spicy dish, full of all the good things in the world: beans, potatoes, garlic, hot peppers and plenty of olive oil. So magical. Turns out he was joking about wanting beans for breakfast, but he certainly didn't complain. There's really nothing better than waking up to a plate of these little guys.

The Lazy Crazy Daisy Cat Days of Summer

2010-07-18T11:59:00.000-07:00

It's pretty hot here these days, and the cats are keeping themselves occupied by sleeping all sprawled out. The humans are hot, too. We grin and bear it, and turn on fans and keep the windows closed during the day and covered up so the sun doesn't come in. It's really not that bad. California bungalows were made for this climate. They were designed to be a dark respite from the sunshine, and for the most part, it works pretty well. It's only a few weeks out of the year when the heat is as unbearable inside as it is outside, and we haven't quite gotten to that point yet.

One of Clydey's favorite places to sleep is on my backpack. I'm not quite sure what it is that's so appealing to her about its lumpiness.

Daisy the Freethinking Cat

2010-07-07T17:37:00.000-07:00

Another day, another stray...

2010-07-05T20:54:00.000-07:00

Beans are back!

2010-07-05T20:51:00.000-07:00

On July 4th, Reconsidering Independence

2010-07-04T17:22:00.000-07:00

In between attending the neighborhood potluck and cooking dinner for 12 people, I'm thinking about what this country might have been like had we not declared independence 234 years ago. Was that whole thing, tea party and all, a big mistake?
My grandmother thinks it's good we broke off and made our own country, a fresh start, with a brand new constitution. But I'm not so sure. Imagine if we were still part of England, some of the perks we might have.
1. Universal Health Care. Yeah, duh, it might not be the best health care, but it's something. If I lost my foot, do I really need a 9 million dollar prosthetic? Americans say yes, Britons get some wooden peg thing and limp around. Seems to work OK. And this whole thing about British teeth, come on! If we were still part of Britain, would we have that perverse American love of straight white teeth? (And straight white everything else?) Bring on the death panels, etc.
2. Pret A Manger. On every corner! Yummy!
3. British are better at colonizing. Americans still have a lot to learn.
4. The queen on our currency instead of "In god we trust." I'm not a big fan of the queen or of money, but our currency definitely needs an exorcism, and pounds might be the solution.
5. More Europop!
6. Better clothing overall and less men wearing shorts in public because they think it's OK (It's not).
7. The Rolling Stones would be a local band.
8. Pubs everywhere and drinking a lot would be fine.
9. Also, hanging out in parks, no problem, without thinking the cops will shut you down.

OK, obviously, this is a work in progress. If anyone has any more ideas of why we shouldn't have gone rogue, please leave them in the comments section and maybe we can start some sort of even more regressive political movement than the Tea Party. Ha!

More great things about getting out of the house

2010-06-29T20:29:00.000-07:00

A road named after a champion.

Maggie standing in a pile of springtime peony petals.

Finding out that friends are in the same faraway city.

Watching the fascists parade in the streets.

Getting lost in the communist rally on the way to the hotel.

Solidarity!

Where Have I Been?

2010-06-28T18:11:00.000-07:00

Yes, it has been awhile since I've poked my head onto this website and thrown some photos up to prove that I'm still alive. Now I'm back in LA, wondering what hit me! It's been a whirlwind few weeks of travel, sunshine, ancient ruins, rain, Pandas, walking and eating. Looking through the photographs is like watching a movie I can barely remember seeing before.
I managed to get a sleeve done for my red sweater. Will post a picture of that soon. In the meantime, here are a few highlights....

Adam Ant's Prince Charming outfit at the V&A always makes my heart go all a-flutter. I was that girl in high school with the Tiger Beat pics of Adam Ant in my locker. Can I confess that in public? There was one in particular, I think it had a lavender background, and he was all made up in super airbrushed style. Totally the sexiest. If I recall correctly, it didn't even make it to the locker since it had a permanent spot on my bedroom wall. I was (and still am) a huge fan of boys in eyeliner. Drives me crazy.

My all time favorite knit shop in the world run by my all time favorite London Ladies, Rachael and Louise. Prick Your Finger is always filled with treasures and surprises. Last time I was there I got red wool for the red cardigan that I'm still working on (only one sleeve left!). This time I was invited to embellish a square for the epic picnic blanket game board for Snakes and Ladders. I chose to embroider on square #29, since 29 is the best age for boys to wear eyeliner. Just kidding, I don't remember why I chose it. Probably liked the color or something. 28 is actually the best eyeliner age for the younguns. Don't try it after 35 unless you look like Lou Reed. The Snakes and Ladders epic throw premiered a couple of days ago, but I haven't seen the pics yet. Check their blog

Summer in Europe means hanging out in parks and not really caring if your bum gets muddy or wet from the grass. This doesn't happen in Los Angeles. We don't have public space in the same awesome way, and it bugs me. It's got to be a major plan to go to the park here. But check out the above. People show up on bikes, some bring grills, whatevs. It's super mellow and pretty spontaneous. Sun comes out and open space gets crowded. I saw this while I was walking back from the knit shop to Louise's house. She has a pet tortoise. Travel is full of surprises.
I got tons more pictures. Maybe I'll post some or maybe not. Depends how things heat up back here in LA. The cats might need some blog time...

Public Service Announcement and Update on Clyde's Health

2010-05-24T21:48:00.000-07:00

Public Service Announcement: If your cat is in the litter box a bit too much and her wees are a bit too small, take her to the vet.
Put yourself in her position, always on the can, you gotta go, but not much comes out. You drink cranberry juice and go to the gyno. Poor little kitten suffers until someone notices.
At first we thought it was cute, her big eyes staring at us while she was in the box. Running back and forth and piddling just a tiny bit. Clumps in the litter box the size of peas. A trip to Value Vet confirmed suspicions. A urinary tract infection!

Poor Clydey was put on antibiotics, and she seemed to improve, a bit too slowly, but finally she was peeing normally. Then a few days later, she was back to pea sized pee. Another trip to the vet. Dr. Harrison put her on special food, and since then, all has been well!
After a follow up test on Thursday, the results came in today and everything was normal. Her pee used to be too alkaline and she was forming crystals that caused infections. Now her pee is as perfect as everything else about her.
So glad Clydey is feeling better!

Off the Streets!

2010-05-23T20:51:00.000-07:00

From the mean streets of Los Angeles to a luxurious home in Claremont! Sandy totally scored!
After her surgery, this little calico dreamboat decided she'd had enough of fending for herself out in the cold cruel world. Once she'd had a taste of housecat life, she wasn't going back, no way. We'd open the door for her, the yard a beckoning feline playground. She turned her back on chasing birds and rolling in the dirt. She had previously demonstrated her incredible mouse-killing abilities. But now she was happy with kibble.

She'd become an affectionate sweetheart, much more sweet-tempered than the two housecats already in residence here. Sandy sat on laps and purred. She followed us around and rubbed up against our legs, begging for more petting. But the housecats hissed at her, and, in the end, if she was going to be a housecat, she wasn't going to be a housecat here.

Lou was very sad to see Sandy go, but we didn't want Daisy and Clyde to be miserable. We wanted cat harmony in the house! I put a posting up on my school's listserv and received a response that very day. A professor was interested in adopting a calico and wanted to meet Sandy.

After her bath, Sandy was even more beautiful than ever, and the lucky lady was happy to welcome Sandy, now "Charlene." In her new home in Claremont, Sandy/Charlene will live with a five year old boy and his parents, along with an elderly tabby cat. She settled right in, asking for a belly rub right away.
Sandy/Charlene has her ear clipped, since she went to the vet as a feral/stray with a plan to be released to the streets. For this cat, that clipped ear signifies her choice to change her circumstances.
We will miss Sandy! But of course thrilled that she has found a permanent and loving home.

Another Day, Another Stray...

2010-05-01T08:00:00.000-07:00

When this kitten first showed up on our block a few months ago, she was hiding under parked cars and running away if anyone got too close. A couple of weeks ago, she started getting friendly, and last weekend, she moved onto our front lawn, where she spent her days resting under some plants. She let us get close to her, close enough to realize that she was expecting kittens.
Time being the ultimate enemy in these matters, we sweeped her off to Value Vet on Tuesday. The "feral" package there includes spaying, vaccines, and flea treatment. She came home kitten-free and with a clipped ear, ready to be released into the wild the following day.
But my tender hearted cat-loving husband fell in love with her, and he didn't want her back on the streets. We're looking for a home for Sandy. She's a sweet teenage cat. No longer hiding under cars, she now enjoys being touched and brushed and fussed over. She's recovering quickly, and Daisy and Clyde have not been hospitable, she she's living in the back for now, waiting to find her new home.

Daisy and Clydey Clyde

2010-04-16T10:42:00.000-07:00

Strozzapreti with spigariello and beans

2010-04-04T21:36:00.000-07:00

Strozzapreti with spigariello and beans

I was attracted to this pasta because of the name. “Strozzapretti” means “priest choker” or perhaps “priest strangler.” The word “strozza” can be used when describing the wringing of a chicken’s neck. It’s a bit sinister, but also completely inspired. WIth the recent comparison of the victimization of Catholic pedophile priests to the horrors of the Holocaust, it’s bound to become the favorite pasta of everyone who values common sense and delicious cuisine.

Ingredients:

1 package strozzapreti

2 bunches spigariello

3/4 c. dried Cargamanto cranberry beans (or substitute any borlotti bean)

1 sweet onion

a few tomatoes

olive oil

salt

crushed red pepper.

Cook the beans in water. If you have a crock pot, just put them in dry in the morning and turn it to “low.” By the time you cook dinner, they’ll be done. Otherwise, soak them starting first thing in the morning and when you start getting hungry for dinner, start them boiling on the stove. Turn to a simmer and let them cook until they’re done. Should be about an hour or so.
Clean and coarsely chop the spigariello.
Chop the onion and slowly cook in olive oil in a skillet.
While the onion is cooking, put the water on for the pasta. Add some salt.
Add some beans (all if you wish, some if you’d rather) to the onions, along with some salt, crushed red pepper, and tomato. We use tomatoes from last summer’s garden that have been in the freezer; you can use fresh, canned, frozen, as you please.
Add about half of the spigariello to the beans/onion mix and cover the skillet so that the greens will steam.
Put the pasta in the water for the amount of time specified on the package.
When there are a few minutes left, add the other half of the greens to the pasta water.
When the pasta is done, reserve a few cups of the greenish pasta water before draining the pasta.
Add drained pasta and greens to stovetop mix of onions/beans. Stir it up. Add more of the greenish pasta water if necessary. Salt to taste. Pour a nice stream of olive oil on top before serving.
Feel free to adjust the amounts of various components to suit your tastes.

Bike Night Poster spotted in Westwood!

2010-04-01T22:13:00.000-07:00

There's a new farmer's market in our neighborhood, and we showed up Sunday morning excited to get a bunch of vegetables. But we are produce snobs, and so we were only able to find a few things that lived up to our vaulted standards. The lettuce looked kind of wilty, they only had one kind of kale, the strawberries had rot.
Last night we cooked kale from the farmer's market and it was terrible. How can kale be bad? This was. Totally dry and icky. Kind of a shock!
So today I went to Whole Foods to try to rectify the vegetable situation in the household. I bought a head of lettuce, 2 bunches of kale, rapini, and spinach. Plus an onion and two heads of garlic. Walked out of the store, and WOWIE, there was the huge poster advertising Bike Night! So great to see that and I never would have gotten to if it wasn't for that crappy kale from that local market.
Sunday we'll go back to the Hollywood Farmer's Market. Sometimes buying local doesn't make sense, especially if everything needs to be rebought at twice the price a few days later.
Cooked the kale and rapini for dinner. DELICIOUS.

Bike Night at the Hammer! April 8!

2010-04-01T07:55:00.000-07:00

The second ever Bike Night at the Hammer! is happening next Thursday evening on April 8. Like last year's event, there will be bike valet, vegan food, bands, and the museum galleries will be open until 10pm. And it's FREE!
This year, the film is Pee-Wee's Big Adventure, and there's a secret special guest coming to introduce the film. The event was coordinated by the Hammer Student Association, and the food consultant was Matt!
If you want to partake of the vegan food, do arrive early.
See you at the Hammer!

Gone Missing on the Vernal Equinox

2010-03-20T21:26:00.000-07:00

Mysterious circumstances surround the disappearance today of a young woman in the park. The helicopters, dogs, and search/rescue teams in dayglo were out in full force. Where did she go on this first day of Spring?

It's all about the color.

2010-03-17T18:05:00.000-07:00

Cracked

2010-03-11T19:16:00.000-08:00

When I first cracked the phone, I felt really kind of dumb. It just slid out of my hand onto a wooden floor, didn't fall more than a couple of feet. Until that moment, the thing I liked absolutely the most about this disgusting consumer product was that it didn't hesitate to remind me that I was human. It was perfect; I was not. It was smart and shiny; I was dull and dumb. It was a miracle; I was human. And so, when it's smooth glass surface picked up grease from my face, it was as if the device was mocking me for my clumsy emissions of oil, my smeary existence. I wiped it clean, wishing I could be that inert, that gorgeous. Then I dropped it and a bit of equality finally came into the relationship. We were both damaged goods.

But still I felt kind of shitty about it. I didn't want to cut my face and bleed all over it either. I taped it up, First Aid, then eventually made my way to the retailer who told me it would cost two hundred clams to fix that shit. I said no way, I'll see how long it lasts. It's been four months so far. I like it now. I like that it's got personality and style. Even the bubbles under the tape are OK by me. I'm in an iphone rich demographic, and this way, you never go home with the wrong one. People are weird about it though. Everyone who sees it acts shocked. They don't want to accept that the perfect can become imperfect in a second.

Saw this at the PMA. Movers dropped it in 1926 and then Duchamp put the pieces back together and threw the thing back into the culture. Balls. Love it. Inspiring. Another reason the broken iP is one step closer to the penultimate and not one step further way.

Spreading the Word in Philly!

2010-03-06T20:50:00.000-08:00

In Philadelphia, I run into a lot of people who want to talk about how great Philly is! They have a point. With a walkable city center, low property taxes, and abundant vegetarian cuisine, Philadelphia's pretty great.
Everyone's talking constantly about how much they love it here, but where are the tracts? I visited the Tract Association on Cherry Street. They publish Quaker tracts, which looked great, but they were locked up in a cabinet, which makes it tough to spread the word. Not sure they had any pro-Philly tracts anyhow in there. Didn't look it.

If you're looking to make a move to Philly, don't dilly dally. These guys by the convention center say that the end of the world is coming on October 21, 2011. So that doesn't leave a lot of time for packing bags and finding a great 3 bedroom apartment in an enviable neighborhood.

It was nice to see that some folks from North Carolina are seriously thinking of moving in before it's too late. They parked their bus at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, where they dispatched some very large folks to assess the situation inside. I spied a few of those sensible southern christians drooling in front of a Monet painting. Secretly they all wanted to see Etant Donné; who wouldn't?

Meanwhile, back at the Tract House in Old City, the tracts were flying off the table. Why didn't anyone write one about how amazingly awesome Philly is? Is word of mouth a better way to spread the word?

Vegan Philly Cheese steak sandwich at Govinda's! Do you need any more convincing?

Brutal

2010-02-25T18:48:00.001-08:00

Bird Watchers

2010-02-25T13:41:00.000-08:00

The frustrating life of the indoor cat.
Do we let them out to kill pigeons and other living creatures and expose them to neighborhood dogs and cars? Or keep them jailed and safe. At what price freedom?

Or maybe it's more like me staying home all day watching Lady Gaga videos on youtube?

The old-fashioned way

2010-02-18T12:20:00.000-08:00

A shredder is definitely more efficient but my shredder broke down
months ago and rather than have to go out and buy one more thing made
in china that plugs into the wall and takes up space, I decided to get
rid of bank statements and bills from 1994 in the BBQ. It kind of
stinks and the smoke going into the air might carbon neutralize the
alternative. I'm hoping the laundry out here on the line doesn't pick
up that campfire scent. There's something really lovely about burning
the past. Shredding doesn't quite have the same quality. Do worms like
ash?

We've got worms!

2010-02-07T17:52:00.000-08:00

Inspired by Tract House tract designer Roman Jaster and by tract writer Naomi Bloom (Writer of Tract # 10-32 "To Sleep with Red Worms"), I bought a small container of red wigglers at the farmer's market this morning. I then went to Staples, as was suggested by the worm seller, and bought a clear box, as per his advice. Then I went home and did some research and learned that UV light is fatal to worms! So I found this blue box somewhere in the attic and drilled holes in the top, even though my husband told me to drill them in the sides. I was afraid of an escape. He is concerned about the rain. He's probably right, but it's too late now, the holes are in the top! Then I filled the worm condo with shredded newspaper and put some old lettuce in there and then I don't know what I was thinking, I put garden dirt and compost in there. About an hour later, I decided that I had done something horrible. What if I had introduced predators or fungus into the luxury highrise worm home? So I went outside and sifted through all the dirt and found all of the worms and got them out of there and into some properly sterile potting soil along with the newspaper and old lettuce. I'm sure it's not a super clean environment, but I did get several bugs out and now the worms can grow and multiply for awhile without getting eaten by something else. I don't really know if anything I removed would even eat the worms, and anyhow, the dirt could have something bad in it. Then I put some scraps of radish leaves from the garden that I'm pretty sure has aphids so there I go introducing something in there that's not a worm.... We'll see what happens. In the meantime, I did a worm census and found 133 worms, even though the worm container promised 200 worms. Well, let's hope they reproduce. I'm sure worm providers don't expect customers to actually count the worms.

After I sorted through the dirt and found the worms, I pulled out some beets and Louis cut some kale. We are sort of like worms that way, eating stuff that grows in the dirt.

The Tract House: A Darwin Addition Opens in Philadelphia!

2010-02-05T11:54:00.000-08:00

The Tract House is open! Unfortunately the big brou-ha-ha First Friday opening scheduled for tonight has been CANCELLED due to inclimate weather (snowstorm). The next First Friday, March 5, I will be there live and in person! I can't wait to see the installation. The elves in Philly have been in charge of getting piles together and flags up, and I am dying over here to see how it all looks. The flag in the background is one of two in The Tract House. The other is of the Tract House logo.
The website TheTractHouse.com has been updated with all the new tracts! Roman Jaster again is the genius of Tract House design.
INFO
The Tract House: A Darwin Addition - The Tract House re-appears in Philadelphia as part of Philagrafika 2010: Out of Print, hosted by the American Philosophical Society Museum, January 29-April 2010. Tracts will be in a storefront half a mile from the museum at 231 North Third Street.
Tract House hours: Fri-Sun, 11-5
First Fridays, 11-8
Artist Talk: March 5.

RADICALIZED!

2010-01-31T08:17:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty confident that my favorite word of the year is already chosen, despite the fact that it's only January.
The winner for 2010: RADICALIZED.
Such a great word, and so oddly used in the press. People travel to other countries and get "radicalized" or maybe they go to a school or church where they become "radicalized." The way the term is used makes it sound as if becoming "radicalized" is like getting bat mitzvahed, married, or tattooed. "Radicalized' is just another milestone of life, a marking of a transformation. Though the actual process of "radicalization" might take days to weeks to months, it's confined to a single past tense term, that compresses time into a process of unknown length. To me, it suggests a ceremony or ritual, perhaps because I'm used to other terms that interchange so well with "radicalized" that do suggest a ceremony.
Examples from various online sources:

"Another group of about 10 American citizens traveled to Yemen, converted, radicalized, and married Yemeni woman to remain in the country."

("Radicalized" is used in conjunction with words suggesting ceremony/ritual: converted, married)

Was the would-be Northwest bomber radicalized while attending a British college?"

"
(radicalizing as extra-curricular activity, maybe like football?)

"Joe Lieberman knows about self-radicalization. He, himself, became self-radicalized after 9-11."

(Is this like piercing your own ears?)

"Report Warns of Growing Threat from Radicalized Americans"

(Who are these "radicalized" Americans and do I know any?)

This one sure knows how to pose...

2010-01-30T11:06:00.000-08:00

The other one is camera shy...

Eating

2010-01-22T20:09:00.000-08:00

We are fairly desperate to find new foods to incorporate into our daily meals, but basically we eat the same thing every day, regardless. Our situation is ridiculous. We are bound by both cultural eating traditions, pickiness, concerns about health, and ideas about food ethics. We have strung ourselves up by our culinary balls, so to speak, and there's not much in our pantry these days.
A few weeks ago, we ate at some razzle-dazzle style diner in DTLA, and they had The Best Beans Ever. So I asked where they'd gotten them, then mailed away for some myself. The other night we expanded our sliver of a repertoire of dinners to include pasta with beans, which still confines the cuisine to a small part of Italy, but at least it's not kale, which we eat every other day of the week.
The beans are called "Good Mother Stallard Beans" and they arrive dry but cook up quicker than you'd expect in a crock pot. Put them in dry in the morning and at around one, they were done. With a bit of onion, a bit of tomato, and some linguine, this was a pretty epic meal. The beans are succulent and smooth. Don't be fooled by the "Cafe Paris" plates, which were a lovely gift from my mother after Louis and I got engaged in Paris. She didn't know that "Cafe Calabria" plates would make more sense for this household.*
Our number one food in the house is kale, despite the fact that I've read it can contribute to thyroid problems. Tonight, Louis went out back with the headlamp and came in with a pile of kale grown from seeds acquired from his fatherland. And yes, of course, paired with some pane duro, which is hard bread, which you might also think of as a dried up crust, it was delicious. The hard bread, yes, we make that in-house, because where on earth can you buy this stuff? You can only get it from relatives or make it yourself, which is not a bad way to go. I have to say, it's thoroughly good, and I'd eat it everyday if it would last long enough. It tends to go fairly quickly around here. I typically bake four loaves of bread, slice it all up, dry one loaf, and freeze the rest. PB&J every morning for breakfast, which is not Calabrian, but it's nourishing.
This little Daisy-girl eats the same thing every single day and has since she was wee. It's dry cat food and sometimes I worry that it might be missing something important and that down the line something will go horribly wrong. There was a short period where we fed her Kitten Chow and she was listless. We changed back to this other food and she became fat, bouncy, energetic, and sweet as pie.

*Speaking of marriage, I shouldn't raise this issue during this post about the yumminess of dinner, but it really pisses me off that there is an idea that gay marriage could somehow rub off on my marriage and make it less valid or less special or less whatever. Because what does make my marriage less valid, and the reason I never wanted to get married as long as I lived, is those white trash christian shits who slap their kids in public, make honey-get-me-a-beer jokes, fuck hustlers and prostitutes on the side, then have the gall to talk about some fiction called "family values." Yeah, I got married anyhow.

Knitting Through the Storm

2010-01-22T08:30:00.000-08:00

Power went out last night, literally and figuratively. Literally, the raging winds and rains led to an extinguishing of the lights. In the larger scheme of things, corporations were handed more freedoms than ever before, making individual citizens even weaker and less powerful. So look forward soon to giant blockbuster smear campaigns during election seasons, even more than we have now. The big bucks are going nasty!
It's disturbing to live in a society where corporations are treated by the law as individuals. Corporations have nothing in mind above profits. And if they are also individuals, doesn't it seem that they are providing a high-profile model of profiteering as the highest form of success? Positively disgusting what that crappy Supreme Court did yesterday. And completely naïve on top of it.
So I'm just knitting through the storm... have been working on a cabled red cardigan. No text this time. Just red and more red. Making it from Wensleydale red yarn I got at Prick Your Finger when I was visiting London. Red like blood, red like anger.

Power out!

2010-01-21T20:50:00.001-08:00

I am not going to lie. I love it when the lights go out. Cooking by
candlelight, reading by headlamp, always a rude surprise when the
lights go back on and you realize at 4 in the morning that you'd
earlier been listening to NPR on 3 different radios in the house.
Now there's power outage blogging, which isn't really as much fun as
doing nothing at all as the winds savagely whip around outside... But
how could I resist sharing this photo of Clydey Clyde, illuminated by
headlamp, safe and sound under the bed with her favorite frog toy, all
snuggled and cozy...

Why H8 MINDFUL?

2010-01-09T21:05:00.001-08:00

Weird, right? Or does this just underscore the fact that everyone's ideas of reality can be totally different? My view is that oversized SUVs and the phrase "mindful" don't go together. I know there are legitimate reasons to own SUVs in the city, but I can't think of any right now. The first people I ever knew that had an SUV were showing really huge dogs and carting them around in cages. At the time, I guess I thought this was a good enough reason to have a Suburban, but since then, my views on pure bred dogs have gotten crankier.
But maybe it's honest? Maybe this driver in South Pasadena is saying that he/she is "mindful" of the absurdity of having a giant car? Mindful of the environmental cost? That they are mindful of the contradiction? Who uses the phrase "mindful" anyhow? It is a yoga thing? Or maybe a Buddhist thing? Buddhist yogis who vote for Democrats and drive huge truck/cars?
Then today, I was behind this one on Crenshaw, wondering if the "8" in "H8TE" pre-dated or referenced Proposition 8? Was I behind someone so pro-marriage equality that they got vanity plates to advertise? Or were they kind of irritated when the number of the proposition made their car into a promotional vessel for something they didn't care about, or worse, didn't believe in. Text is awesome, you gotta be totally on top of your signifiers so there aren't any questions or confusion.
And on that note, I went on a field trip to a Christian bookstore that was a bit on the mindblowing side of things. Probably not the best idea to go in wearing a sweater that says "Keep Abortion Legal" but whatevs. At least there's nothing unclear about the message.
What about this book? "How liberals are destroying religion and culture in America?" That's some wild allegation there. I only wish those liberals were more efficient at destroying religion, since it seems that violent Christian extremism is only getting stronger and stupider. As for destroying culture, I'm not sure about that claim either. Are we talking "Jersey Shore" or LACMA? Aside from really weird books, there are a lot of bible covers at the christian bookstore. I guess that's a thing, to have a fashionable cover for your bible that looks like an evil secular Chanel bag or a football. Since there was a whole wall devoted to these covers, I can only assume that this is superpopular right now. Rad to visit another culture!
One thing they didn't have at the Christian bookstore was vegan cake, but thankfully, Babycakes NYC has opened here in LA, so after you've stocked up on leather bible covers, you can repair your animal killing karma with some sweets at the bakery.
Seriously, super yummy, and so happy they are here in town, despite that fact that I no longer eat exclusively vegan due to certain weaknesses. I've been a fan of Babycakes for awhile, always gorging on cupcakes whenever I'm in NY, so I'm truly stoked they're here. Rumor had it for awhile that they were opening on the west side, and I'm so glad they finally settled down in DTLA at 130 East 6th Street, between Main and Los Angeles. If I ever bike to the train again, it's right on the way home. Will their hours be as inviting as the store in NYC?

Where Have I Been?

2009-12-27T18:16:00.000-08:00

Trying to do the right thing and failing miserably

2009-11-24T21:29:00.000-08:00

Public transport is the correct thing to do, but does it have to be
such an ordeal? It's 9:30 at night and the metrolink to Los Angeles
has been stopped on the tracks for half and hour and no one seems to
know why. There are rumors of a broken down train ahead perhaps. So we
sit.
It's 40 minutes by bike from my house to the train station; from there
it's an hour to Claremont. This morning, I got to the train 30 seconds
before it left the station. During the ride north, there were more
than a few times that I looked at the time and nearly turned around
and got in the car. I wish I had. It takes me 45 minutes to get to
Claremont by car.
------------------------
an addendum, 11:50pm... just got home. The train sat for 2 and a half hours. Louis picked me up from Union Station, I was just too tired to bike home... But what about public transportation in Los Angeles? Is it feasible? Is it worth it? Is this why so few are taking the public transport option? Why can't it be better?

Best cat toy ever!

2009-11-23T08:05:00.000-08:00

The all time fave with the cats in this household is the lowly tampon.
It's not the kind of toy you want out all over the house when company
comes to visit, but it's certain the the cats have secret storage
areas and that they'll likely bring out the chewed up tampons when
someone's boss or conservative parent comes to dinner, so it's best
not to worry too much.

Blanket of Ideas

2009-11-07T08:15:00.000-08:00

The Blanket of Ideas started in Nottingham is finally complete!We had an extremely cozy day in September drinking tea and knitting squares at The Art Organization in Nottingham for this Blanket of Ideas. Knitters brought all sorts of ideas to the table and knit them into great, evocative squares. Their thoughts and passions ranged from peace in Israel to public health to church corruption and everything in between. When all the squares were finished, I crocheted borders on them and put together the final blanket. It's a bit on the wonky side since all the squares were a bit different in size and tension, but it's a great collection of what everyone was thinking about that day we got together to knit. The blanket will go on display in Nottingham at Nottingham Contemporary next week. Good going, everyone!

Nottingham photos by Alan Fletcher

Breaking News!

2009-11-06T15:40:00.001-08:00

Sal found a home! Stay tuned for details...

Sweet Sad Sal...

2009-11-04T09:51:00.000-08:00

really needs a home...
Sal is a super sweetheart, who loves attention and affection and is happiest in a lap. He is the perfect dog-cat, following around his human companion, asking to have his belly rubbed, and purring louder than a locomotive.
Sal is currently living alone in a room with a bowl of water, a litter box, and plenty of food. He craves companionship, but our indoor kittens only hiss when he is nearby. We try to spend as much time with the cat as possible, but I know he would like more love than we can give. He was neutered last Friday and is still wearing his fashionable cone, so outdoors is currently not an option.
He desperately wants to be a housecat, and we don't want to let him back on the streets after he has been de-wormed, de-fleaed, tested (negative) for diseases, and neutered.
Do you have room in your home and your heart for this precious beast?

I'm a stock photo!

2009-11-03T16:12:00.001-08:00

Thanks, Megan, for bringing this image to my attention. I seem to have lost my name and now am simply a generic bike commuter in the LA Times wearing pink pants!
http://www.latimes.com/features/health/la-he-biking-tips2-2009nov02,0,4173802.story

No more testicles!

2009-10-30T16:40:00.000-07:00

No FIV. No heartworm. No feline leukemia. No fleas. No balls.
So much love!
6 pounds, around 8 months old. Sweet, sweet, sweet. Lapcat!
Want him?

SHE is a HE!

2009-10-28T22:18:00.000-07:00

Correction to the proceeding post. The suspected she-cat turns out to have balls. Boy cat is sweet and desperately needs a home. Please consider this sweet cat. We will even remove the balls.

Loving Kitten Seeks Home!

2009-10-24T22:58:00.001-07:00

This sweet little cat wandered into our backyard looking for food and love. She's a super affectionate kitty, who loves to sleep in laps and purr. We gave her a bath today and combed out her coat a bit. She is very accustomed to people, so we're not sure how she ended up hungry and filthy on the streets.

We have two spoiled rotten indoor cats who don't want to share their home with a stray (forgetting, of course, that they too were taken in from the outside). We have two ferals living in the backyard who tolerate this kitten, but they're not very friendly.
She loves to be pet and held. She was even OK during her bath, though a bit scared. She is desperate to come into the house, which leads us to believe that she was formerly a housecat.
Are you in the market for a fluffy beast? Do you want a cat to sit on your lap all day while you work? She's amazing, a very special creature, and she needs a good home. Please drop a line if you or someone you know is seeking a love-kitty.

Still looking for Tracts!

2009-10-12T14:36:00.000-07:00

The Tract House: A Darwin Addition is still looking for submissions to be published by The Tract House and distributed in Philadelphia during Philagrafika. The project is being commissioned by the American Philosophical Society Museum. The APS was founded by Benjamin Franklin, and has a museum that has been working with contemporary artists. This is rad! So we are stoked to be a part of this world of interestingness.
For this version of The Tract House, the APSM specifically wants tracts having to do with the life and/or work of Charles Darwin. I've gotten about 40 great tracts in, ranging in subject matter from beards to weeds to Palin to neanderthals and everything in between, but I still need to find about 20 more tracts.
I'm strangely missing tracts from those who think Darwin was wrong. I don't want the project to be overrun with those, but I'd like to represent that view, especially since tons of people in the USA seem to believe that. So if you know a creationist, pass on the info!
The NEW DEADLINE IS HALLOWEEN, October 30. Send all entries directly to me at TheTractHouseATgmail.com
THANKS

Nottingham (or, as some like to call it, KNITTINGHAM!)

2009-09-30T14:59:00.000-07:00

The installation at Nottingham Contemporary looked swell. It consisted of a very large photograph of me in a tree wearing a bunch of sweaters, plus the sweaters themselves. The slogans came out of the idea of Robin Hood. For a very in depth piece about the talk I gave and more about the show, see this amazingly long post on Nottingham Visual Arts.The image of me in the tree was shot (with much help from Paul Pescador, thanks, Paul!) in a city park in Los Angeles, but was meant to refer to a famous tree in Sherwood Forest.
What an absolute thrill it was to go out to see the Major Oak in Sherwood Forest while I was visiting Nottingham! And how lovely to have a gin and tonic while watching the sun go down over such a fabled spot. Thanks, Claire, Peter, Marcie, and Juno, for schlepping me out to see the Major Oak and teaching me the English tradition of having a sundowner!

Back from the UK!

2009-09-29T04:50:00.001-07:00

Had a crazy merry time in England, apologies for the silence. Didn't want to spend precious UK time updating the blog while I could be out at a pub nursing my sore bum with pints of ale.
The first thing I did when I got off the plane at Heathrow was to walk across the city of London. My goal was to visit Prick Your Finger knitting shop at 260 Globe Street, and since I'd just sat on the soreness for 10 hours, it seemed like walking would be just the thing.
Rachael at Prick Your Finger was happy to see me. We immediately became bestest of pals and I stayed the afternoon with her and into the evening, sampling lovely curry on Brick Lane and then out to a pub for a proper pint. If you don't know her shop, you may know about her knitting club, Cast Off, which has brought in such a media frenzy that it barely meets anymore!
At Prick Your Finger, Rachael and Louise card wool and spin it into yarn. They also sell yarns from many smaller yarn producers in the UK. One current project is to collect wool from local London sheep herds and haveit made into yarn. That's super local!
One night we went out on the town and Rachael lost her shoes! She didn't mind walking barefoot through the streets of London, since she is from the Lake District and is accustomed to frolicking sans shoes. She must have very tough soles indeed, since we slogged through miles and kilometers of broken glass and other sharp surprises.
Next I went to Nottingham! Will leave my adventures in the land of Robin Hood for another day of blogging. Jet lagged at the moment and trying to get some schoolwork done before either collapsing or having yet another cup of coffee or both. Going to school today and hoping I can stay awake and that my butt stops hurting so much. I think that bike crash left me with a textbook case of a bruised tailbone and after the flight home, it seems a bit worse for wear.

Be careful out there!

2009-09-18T14:22:00.000-07:00

Some piece of shit jackass college kid on a beachcruiser rode into me
today. I guess the good news is that he wasn't at the wheel of an SUV.
Anyhow, I usually don't take the sidewalk cause it's DANGEROUS, but I
was in a hurry so I crossed at the light and rode a block instead of
waiting at the intersection later. Big mistake. Jackass kid just flew
out onto the sidewalk not looking. Right into me. I crashed into a
tree. I was madder than bees. I yelled expletives that would make a
sailor blush. The kid said he was sorry. I think he was a bit shocked.
I told him I'd like to beat the living crap out of him with his bike.
I told him repeatedly that he was a piece of shit and a jackass. I am
starting to suspect that I may have anger management problems. I
managed to spin my front wheel in my delirium and it seemed ok. The
back wheel seemed good too. The one thing I didn't think about was
myself. A passerby asked if I was ok and I ignored him. When I got to
the post office I noticed this black tire mark on my bike from the
dude's big dumb bike. My leg got torn up a bit too. Now I'm at the
airport and my back is killing me. I can feel that crash all over and
I'm not looking forward to sitting in a cramped seat for ten or twelve
hours or however long it takes to get across the continent and the
ocean. Would I have felt better if I made him bleed too? Maybe so...
But better than eye for an eye is the possibility, however remote,
that the kid will think twice next time he flies out of a driveway. As
for me, I'm back to the streets. Sidewalks in LA are for prostitutes,
children, and morons.

Michigan!

2009-09-16T07:29:00.001-07:00

Spent the weekend in Michigan and had a great time! I visited my sweaters at the University of Michigan Museum of Art. They did a really nice job with the installation and the gallery space is beautiful. The show is up until October 11, so if you're in the neighborhood, stop on by! The Macintosh apples were delicious too, as were the bagels at Zingerman's. It's so sweet to be in the midwest during the fall. Love it!
At the DIA, we saw 100 years of photography! Don't you think they could have worded this sign a bit better?

Alameda

2009-08-27T15:35:00.001-07:00

Playing "dodge truck" on the storied Alameda Corridor on one of the
hottest and most polluted days of the year. Always a pleasure to ride
through Vernon; the slaughter and packing houses have a special
perfume when the temp goes over 90. And I had no idea that Forever 21
is at 21st street! Would those sweatshop owning christians have named
their slut-clothes factory Forever 41 if it had been further south?

TSA will love this one!

2009-08-26T10:52:00.001-07:00

The Tract House is Looking for New Tracts!

2009-08-15T08:39:00.000-07:00

The Tract House is looking for new tracts!

In conjunction with the American Philosophical Society (APS) Museum and Philagrafika, The Tract House: The Darwin Addition will be distributing tracts in Philadelphia in early 2010.

For this special incarnation of The Tract House, we are specifically seeking tracts that have to do with the ideas, themes, and life of Charles Darwin!

Tracts can focus on all matter of Darwiniana, including, but not limited to: geology, theology, sexuality, asexuality, extinction, deep time, God, God-lessness, natural selection, mutation, survival of the fittest, breeding, inbreeding, observation, cannibalism, ape relatives, botany, barnacles, hermaphrodites, lost continents, heredity, and animal emotions. In addition, tract writers may want to tackle more practical issues, such as: food and hygiene on a five year journey, how to make friends with strangers living on islands, beards, pet turtles, on-board diversions, keeping specimens from accidentally being eaten, killing for science, and world travel pre-internet.

To see the online exhibition about Darwin at the APS Museum, visit APSMuseum.org/Darwin.
Do not feel the necessity of being bound simply by “facts.” The tract is the perfect vehicle for your own crackpot theory, well-reasoned idea, kneejerk rant, or stalwart manifesto. The purpose of a tract is to convince your reader of something you truly believe. Your tract can be urgent, convincing, loud, strident, scolding or simmering, genuine, soft, or ridiculous. Use the tools your language has to offer: humor, metaphor, poetics, allegory, melodrama.

Tracts can vary in length from a few choice words to a longer story. The tracts will be professionally designed by Roman Jaster. To see all tracts previously published by The Tract House, please visit TheTractHouse.com. For images of The Tract House in action, visit http://www.lisaanneauerbach.com/projects/tracthouse/index.html

{For those of you who submitted tracts for the Miami Tract House that was cancelled last October due to recession, we will try to use submitted tracts that can somehow be related to Darwin!}

Deadline for tracts: October 1, 2009. Please submit your text to TheTractHouse@gmail.com

THANK YOU TRACT WRITERS!

-------
Tract House FAQ:

What is a tract?
A tract is generally a concise treatise, printed for mass distribution in pamphlet form. Though the most commonly stumbled-upon tracts are religious in theme, tracts historically have also included political manifestos and other ideas.

Why Tracts?
I am smitten by the tract as an opportunity to spread the word about anything and everything that is important, genuine, sweet, ridiculous, overbearing, urgent, essential, vital, crucial, or critical. Combining extreme portability with concise language, a tract is a perfect vessel for the distribution of ideas.

What about artwork?
If you imagine that there should be a graphic or drawing accompanying your words, send something along or let us know what it is you’d like to see and we’ll see what we can dig up.

Will my name be on it?
All of the tracts will be credited to the authors, unless you request to remain anonymous, which is totally fine. Just let us know.

What do tract writers get?
Contributors will receive copies of the finished tracts. The final number will depend on how many we print, but seems safe to say that everyone will get at least 25 copies of their tract, probably more, and a complete set of tracts from The Tract House.
When will the tracts be distributed?
“The Tract House” is part of Philagrafika, which runs from January through April, 2010. The exact location of The Tract House has not yet been determined. We will keep tract writers posted.

Will it be online?
Thetracthouse.com will be a virtual repository for the tracts.

Corporate America is getting with the program

2009-08-13T10:32:00.000-07:00

Does that mean it's time to change the program?

Indoor Cats and Outdoor Cats

2009-08-01T11:04:00.000-07:00

Seems like Orange Cat is sticking around, so we've got to figure out a name for him and also get his balls removed. He's starting to get used to us, not quite as skittish as he was previously, and he and Abby Tabby seem to be getting along well these days too. Not a bad looking cat, either. Very svelte, long-limbed and graceful.Abby's up to her same old tricks: hanging out in the garden, perching on the roof, walking along fencetops, eating, looking good...To be an outdoor cat means enjoying the occasional breezes, burrowing into damp earth, enjoying the sun if it's interesting at the moment, sneaking into the neighbor's crawlspace for some cool and quiet... but being a a housecat means that sometimes it's just plain hot! Here's a picture of a couple of hot cats hanging out in front of the fan in the kitchen. I put ice in their water bowl, which they didn't seem to care about, and I also gave them an ice pack to cozy up with, but they didn't seem interested in that either. They preferred just stretching out their big fat bodies on the floor.
And Clydey was a big help for me while I was working on my syllabus for the fall. She insisted that the newspaper was just a distraction and that it makes a better place to hang out than to read anyhow. Yesterday, I dragged Louis up to Big Bear to help me take a picture of a new sweater. We shot at the Robin Hood Resort, but it was a bit ugly, so took to the woods.

What's for dinner?

2009-07-29T17:35:00.000-07:00

It's beginning to look a little Sherwood in here

2009-07-25T07:36:00.001-07:00

I finally got over the initial hurdle and made a three sweaters for
the show in Nottingham. The text is a combo of Luddite rebellion and
general "down with the Man." I've always wanted to make a sweater with
that great Diderot quote about strangling the last king with the guts
of the last priest. What a beautiful idea! It doesn't really fit
traditionally with Robin Hood since Robin was in love with the king.
But this is one of the issues for me with the whole Robin Hood
story, that in the end, despite his outlaw vibe, he's basically
working to support the king. What's up with that?

Helping out

2009-07-21T13:26:00.001-07:00

What is it about an open book that is so tempting to this cat? Clyde
is a much more literate feline than her sister. One of her favorite
sitting places is the newspaper, preferably while it's open in bed and
someone is trying to read it. Today she came over to sprawl out on The
Making of the English Working Class. I know it's not the most exciting
tome, but it's not a snore either. I'm slogan hunting for a series of
Robin Hoodish sweaters. Any ideas?

Waking up in a city park

2009-07-19T06:06:00.000-07:00

The birda are chirping and all is well here in Silver Lake. Sleeping
in a tent is cozy! Day two of The Big Parade is about to commence.
Yesterday we walked all over the place and up and down a lot of stairs.
If anyone who reads this wants to join up for the second exciting day,
check the bigparadela.com site for route info and Twitter for updates
on where we actually are.... Bigparadela

Stoned Cats and Hard Bread

2009-07-12T13:21:00.000-07:00

Not having a very productive weekend due to losing my tablet stylus and generally being unable to think. The cats have some new toys from the craft fair I went to yesterday. Daisy went into a dark corner with her catnip fortune cookie, too dark for good pics, but Clydey, completely stoned out of her mind from this catnip cannoli, stayed in some OK light.
I made some multi-cultural hard breads this weekend too. Four loaves of bread sliced up and dried out in the oven for pane duro ...

and some trad Jewish Mandel Bread. It's my grandmother's recipe...

All very yummy, but if I were a kitten, I'd still rather be eating catnip cannoli!

I used to be part of the solution...

2009-07-07T17:57:00.001-07:00

Now I'm part of the problem.

I was a bike commuter for years. Now I got a job that's far away. Readers of this blog already know that the Volvo has been breaking down. For a car in occasional use, it's fine. Breaking down is an adventure. But the windshield wipers don't work either... the power windows are going, which isn't a big deal except it could be the sign of something bigger... the A/C hasn't worked in years, whatever... the real issue is that even if I fix all that stuff, plus the mysterious electrical problems, it's still a vehicle that will take 4 gallons of gas per day to get to work. Which is unacceptable.

So, really and truly I'm now part of the problem. Yesterday I bought a brand new car. Ugh. Does anyone want a used Volvo 240? It's been driven lightly over the last ten years, taken care of for the most part, but has some serious issues that may delight you or may get you stuck somewhere you don't want to be.

Fed gov't rewards those who make bad decisions... the Volvo gets a whopping 2 mpg over the cutoff for the cash for clunkers $. So if you were stupid enough to buy something that gets less than 18 mpg, you get a lump of cash.

In contrast, the new car will get 38 mpg. Big improvement. But still part of the problem.

This is the best you can do, Los Angeles?

2009-07-07T10:12:00.001-07:00

I mean, come on! The cops tell you to stay home and you do???! Where's
the spirit of chaos?
There might be a couple hundred people down here... barricades, toilets, and cops for a million. Most who showed up are media or t-shirts sellers. Super lame. I guess I was expecting Total Insanity, but I maybe craziness is reserved for the Lakers.
But if we're paying for a spectacle, where is it?

Never Neverland

2009-07-06T11:50:00.001-07:00

There is no dark side of the moonwalker...

As a matter of fact, it's all dark.Always figured Michael was a secret metalhead...
Mural on Melrose and Heliotrope.

Enter Sandman

2009-07-03T17:30:00.001-07:00

Does this work?

2009-07-03T13:57:00.001-07:00

Testing out if posting pictures from a remote location via phone
actually works. Here's a pic of me at the mall with the Dukes of
Hazzard car. Classy.

Wacko about Jacko

2009-07-03T08:58:00.000-07:00

I got caught up in the Jackwackiness early on, and I'm still trying to shake the hype. I was nearby the UCLA med center when the whole thing went down, so walked over to check out the chaos. Seemed to be more news vehicles and media people around than fans, but it only takes a small bunch of people to look like a big crowd on television. No one seemed upset, didn't see anyone collapsing into tears. But here in LA, if there are a bunch of news vehicles around, you gotta go see what's up. When I was a kidlet, MJ was the biggest star on the planet. Of course I wasn't into that; a copy of Thriller in the collection kills the punk cred completely. But yeah, ok, admittedly, I was thrilled by the hooks, the moves, and later intrigued by the "situation." So there was something super-odd about being on the same square of real estate that held his cold corpse. The proximity was freaky. It's one of those things about living in LA, sharing space with world news.
On the way to dinner, we passed some commotion on Sunset Blvd. A guy with a white glove held high was there, along with a dude holding a bouquet and a whole mess of cop cars. Scene of the crime, or intersection to scene of the crime, or maybe there wasn't any crime involved at all, who knows. I've been following the news, and I'm making a sweater. Originally it was going to be about Farrah too, but I'm not really sure what to say about her. Or him either, but seems like the whole event warrants a sweater. So I'm struggling for ideas. Read a whole mess of jokes, but none were funny.
So, Jackson might be dead, but the cats are battling with their own problems. Little Daisykins has something funky going on with her paws, and both of them needed a rabies shot. It was found that the little darlings also have fleas. This morning they were a bit groggy from all the medications, but at least they aren't IV drug addicts.

Back from Beyond

2009-06-23T07:25:00.001-07:00

Anyone wanna buy a house in Illinois? My mother's selling the house I grew up in. It's a nice place to visit, and an even nicer place to live. The view of the woods outside is incredible, since the place is basically made up of windows. The inside is mostly redwood. When I was a kid, I thought it was a shack with a lot of wood and glass that smelled funny when it rained. But now it's called "mid-century modern" and it's sought-after and special. It's especially good for a short family, since the architect was short and put in ceilings that were good for his height. This is the driveway, which I had to back down without hitting any trees before I was allowed to get my drivers license. It's also where I learned to unicycle, which is why I have scars on my knees from the embedded pieces of gravel.
We went through closets and drawers and boxes of things, finding all sorts of treasures and surprises, some of them exciting and some of them not so. I was surprised to find that my high school prom dress still fit just fine, and since my mother's flash hadn't worked so well on the big day, we did a reshoot so there would be a photo of me in the dress. Better late than never. If I could figure out how to make an animation, you'd see me twirling in the driveway, but you'll have to imagine for now. I'm bringing the dress back to LA, so if anyone wants to invite me to prom, or to any other event where the dress code requires guests to dress like a tulip, I'm ready to go. The night before I left, we stopped by Max and Benny's deli to pick up some things for brunch. I couldn't resist bringing Louis back this cookie. Who to eat first?

Things to Love about Los Angeles, number 389

2009-05-31T22:22:00.001-07:00

There are five hundred thousand things to love about living in Los Angeles and I don't think I've found them all yet. A stellar weekend leaves me scratching my head wondering why anyone would choose to live elsewhere. Friday night began with a lovely ride to the Hammer for the closing party for the Nine Lives show. I thought I'd try out the spiffy new GPS application I installed on my phone. I headed north. When I got to Beverly Hills, I checked the progress and it hadn't yet found a starting point. So that was a wash. My route was side streets to San Vicente to Little Santa Monica to (I think) Woodley to Wilshire. It's not bad. There is sort of a no man's land between Maison Martin Margiela and Pink Taco on Little SM. Suddenly a bike lane appears, but there's no really good way to get to it without taking one's life in one's hands. The conceptual shift from Margiela to Pink Taco is already confusing enough without factoring in the gauntlet. Anyhow, that's the worst part and it's still not as bad as Wilshire though the country club which is horrific.
The "Hammer Bash" was a lot of fun. Llyn Foulkes is an incredible performer and it was so great to see him with his music machine. A friend with a bike was there, and we rode the shitty part of Santa Monica back together, which always makes things a bit easier. He had a back route in mind so we didn't have to pass through the commercial district of Beverly Hills, which was nice, though I do enjoy looking in the shop windows. Plus he was not an obeyer of stop signs, which made me nervous because I'm always thinking that the cops are out to get cyclists in BH for any possible infraction. But I gave into peer pressure because at heart I'm a follower and a sheep. When I got home, the GPS told me that I had ridden to the ocean, then swam out a bit before coming back. I don't think I was that drunk, but who knows. Can GPS lie?
Saturday bought a whole bunch of chocolate (desperate times call for desperation) before going to Zachary Drucker's performance at Steve Turner Gallery. Stretched out on a stainless steel table, he invited audience members to pluck hairs from his nearly naked body using supplied tweezers. After that, Salvadorean food, followed by a trip to a strip club to see some nearly naked ladies who did not seem to be in need of any plucking. I haven't been to Sam's Hofbrau since 1996 when Daniel and I went there for lunch in order to review it for "The Nearly Naked Issue" of The Casual Observer. Either things have really changed or the lunch crowd is really different than the Saturday night crowd. It was fun to see all the ladies in their skivvies dancing around, especially since my husband is in Paris. Who knows what he's doing there...
This morning, out the door early to the Hollywood Farmer's Market and then to the neighborhood Zen center, where I stopped in to see what's going on in the world of Zen. Sat around there for awhile and then came home and had to take a nap. Just too much excitement in this city with no pity.

The Meow: Saddlesore

2009-05-31T22:21:00.000-07:00

I write an occasional publication called Saddlesore, and the emphasis here is on “occasional,” since I haven’t actually thrown one out into the world in quite some time. Maybe a couple years even. But I ride all the time and the adventures never end and from time to time I think I need to write them down, but with all this blogging and art production and teaching and communing with the cats, who has the time for small publications anymore?

In case anyone’s wondering how to bring freshly baked bread with them on a bike, here’s one solution. A couple days ago I had to return a container to a friend who had too much leftover kale salad. I gladly took the kale off his hands, but protocol requires food containers to be returned with something inside, so I baked some bread. It made a lovely carrying vessel, though I’m afraid the crustiness of the bread may have diminished due to the “greenhouse effect” of condensation forming in the clear container as I rode north.

On the way back I stopped to take some photos of this pieced tree covering on Western. There’s a trend right now among knitters to knit “graffiti” and sew it onto trees as some sort of knitting affirmation, but this guy has been covering trees in my neighborhood for many years. He seems to live in a tent on the sidewalk near these trees, and often he’s sewing when I walk or ride by.

Last night I rode up to Echo Park for a haircut. I don’t know how far that is, not too bad. I had heard a rumor about a newly re-opened version of Amok Books somewhere near Pico-Union, so I thought I’d see if I could figure out where it might be and stop by on the way to the haircut.

I took Hoover north to Alvarado, and where those streets meet, there’s a large church with a back building that has a star of David on it. I’m always on the lookout for the signs that my people have been kicked to the curb in favor of something else. I pulled up to search for a cornerstone, but seemed like a newish concrete foundation so no way to really tell what was up. No one was around. Later I found out that this church was once called The People’s Temple, run by Jim Jones, who later headed to Guyana for giant mass suicide. I remember when we got the Time magazine that detailed the weirdness. My father was shocked. He told me to always remember this day because it was so strange, so odd, that nothing like that had happened in his lifetime and nothing like that would happen again. I’m paraphrasing, perhaps, but yes, it was a crazy thing to have happen on the planet way back when, and odd to learn that my bike route to Echo Park has such resonant spaces along the way.

I almost forgot to mention, too, that the oldest woman in the entire world also lives on my route north, at the corner of Cimarron and Adams, in the Western Convalescent Center. She’s 114 and took the reigns of oldest woman in the world when the previous one died a few months back. I don’t know much about her except that she prays and that she voted for Obama, but I think about her every time I pass by.

I’d done a few google searches before leaving the house and discovered that the bookstore was called Unusual Books and was located on 7th near Lucas. The google street view made the block look abandoned. The answering machine at the shop said the place was open 12-9, but it was 4pm when I called and no one picked up. I took a chance and stopped by anyhow, and there it was, the front window welcoming, the selection of books inside tantalizing. I brought my trusty steed inside, after watching some random guy outside spitting and thinking that the next spit target might be my bike. The proprietor of the shop, Dan, was super friendly, and showed me his gorgeous bicycle, a vintage sky blue Medici that was in pristine shape. I browsed the odd selection of books, picking up a copy of “Portable Darkness, An Aleister Crowley Reader”. I think “Portable Darkness” is pretty much the best title ever. I have a changing bag for when I need to bring darkness with me for loading 4×5 film, but I’ve never thought of it quite in those terms even though that’s literally what it is. Who doesn’t want to bring the darkness with them?

Dan the proprietor gave me the most direct route to Echo Park, which includes a couple small hills, and I made it to see Alice my haircutter only five minutes later than I was supposed to be there. She took off a lot of hair. It’s summer, after all, and good to get rid of that extra weight.

On the way home, after dark, I passed a gazillion storefront churches with people inside singing via rickety PA systems to rows of mostly empty chairs. Has Christianity gone karaoke or is this how it’s always been?

The Meow: Guest Blogger Daisy

2009-05-31T22:20:00.002-07:00

Today’s guest blogger, Daisy, was born in the garden last June. She enjoys stealing things, sitting on the dining room table, and peeing in a clean litter box. Her favorite toys include hair bands and tampons. Although she hasn’t been writing for long, she has a lot to say. Her usual mode of communication is through chirps, meows, and, if you hold her, she’ll make a protesting groan that comes from deep within.

From the paws of Daisy-kins, the little blue-eyed devilgirl-child.

Did you feel that earthquake last night? I was sleeping on the dining room table, which I’m not supposed to do, but I know I can get away with it. Usually, one of those people come over and say ooh, that I’m SO bad for being on the table and then they pick me up and stroke my fur and coo all over me. Mixed messages, totally. Sometimes I even get a treat in addition to all the fussing. So why wouldn’t I sit on the table? It’s ground zero for affection.

Anyhow, I was curled up on a placemat when I felt the shaking. First I thought it was my sister Clydey, playing a trick on me, but then I realized she was over in the living room being a kiss-ass kitten by sleeping on the rocking chair. Does she think she’s in a Norman Rockwell painting or what? The perfect little kitty-girl, the angel to my devil. She’s a purring sweet little shy cat. A scaredy cat, too. She hides behind the stove whenever a heterosexual male stranger walks into the house. Pussy. She’s cool with gay dudes. I’m not sure what’s up with that. We had a butch lesbian come in here once and she didn’t know what to do. She headed for the stove when the lady came in the house, but then she got confused. We’re still young, you know. Not even a year old. We haven’t figured out the subtleties of things yet. We’ve got huge whole long lives ahead of us, and since we were rescued from the street, our life-span has grown exponentially. The people keep telling us this, like a broken record, that ferals have an average of 2.5 years on this mortal coil, while housecats can live for decades. But do we want this life, an existence without chasing birds and climbing trees? Is it worth the trade? My sister and I have had this conversation a lot. She’s pretty sure she wouldn’t have lasted six months on the streets, so she’s content with a houselife. I’ve got more balls than she does, but even I’m apprehensive about the wandering packs of dogs.

We can see our mother outside. She comes here to eat breakfast and dinner, and often just hangs around in the garden sleeping or chasing butterflies. I try to say hello sometimes, but we don’t speak the same language anymore. It’s tough to be a first generation housecat sometimes. I ache for the garden, but I’m happy to have a warm bed, plenty of food, and these freaky fussy people picking me up and torturing me with caresses all day and night.

So anyhow, back to the earthquake. When I looked up to see if Clydey was playing a trick on me by shaking the table, I saw her cowering under the rocking chair in the living room. So what happened? One of the people was outside dealing with the garbage cans. When she came in, the other person started yelling about the house shaking. There was an argument, the usual, one saying there was an earthquake, the other saying that sounded like an exaggeration, that is was probably just a truck rumbling by or something. Then the one who’d been moving garbage cans put me on her lap and got on the internet and got the data. The epi-center wasn’t too far from here and it was a 4.7. I don’t know what all of that means exactly but it got me and Clydey all shook up! It’s scary living here in the earthquake zone. Sometimes I think maybe I should move to New York, but what would I do there?

The Meow: Broke down and flat busted

2009-05-31T22:20:00.001-07:00

But this time I got the kitty litter first!

Jesus must really want my car. The Volvo got raptured again yesterday while I was attempting to drive home from the Hammer on the 10 freeway. There I was, just minding my own business and sweating it out driving in stop-n-go traffic eastbound towards my house. When I drive, I like to pick up the “heavy” stuff I can’t really haul on a bike. So I had 75 pounds of kitty litter with me, plus 3.5 pounds of cat food and 6 pounds of rye flour from the health food store.

I thought everything was going swimmingly with the car. I’d gotten it back from the dude last week and immediately got on an airplane to Detroit. I came home and figured we were back to normal. Did the errands, met some nice folks over at the Hammer and then tried to get home. Called AAA again and they sent out a tow. Got to stand on the side of the freeway and take pictures of the ridiculous scene for a bit.

Not often you get a chance to hang out on the shoulder of the 10. Some sweet-faced CHP officer stopped to see if I was OK. I swear, he looked like he was 14. He told me I should get in my car, but I said I’d die of the heat. You don’t leave pets in parked cars, do you sonny boy? So he said I could just stand far away from the cars. I thought he said he’d stay with me until the tow truck came, but he left in a hurry. A few minutes later, his partner stopped by and asked me if his partner had been there. I said, well, if they’re partners, how come they were in separate cars? He said, “beat partner,” which means, well, I’m not exactly sure. I guess I was still thinking Ponch and Jon.

I got back to the mechanic’s place and they were kind of surprised to see me. They’ll take a few days to attempt to figure out what’s wrong with the car, so I packed up my Hammer shopping bag, got out of my fancy shoes and into a pair of sneakers I kept in the trunk, and hoofed it home. Unfortunately, it was 90 degrees out. I didn’t have socks, so I got blisters from my sneakers.

The bottom fell out of the Hammer bag a few blocks from my house. I didn’t lose anything, but I could tell the neighbors were wondering why I was carrying around a bag of art books and rye flour.

The Meow: The Rapture

2009-05-31T22:19:00.001-07:00

The best thing about riding a bike across town is that it’s a pretty sure bet that you’re going to get there. A flat tire takes less than ten minutes to change. Other problems can happen, I suppose, but I don’t have much experience with catastrophic bicycle issues, so not sure what they might be. I guess there could be a medical emergency or something like that, but that can happen just as easily if you’re in a car or taking the bus.

Last Friday, I attempted to cross town using my trusty old 1992 Volvo 240. I’ve had the car since 2000, and I don’t drive much so it’s a bit dusty. But it works OK, or so I thought. I’ve been considering the possibility of adopting a new vehicle, but there doesn’t seem any reason to switch it up. I’d rather be on my bike anyhow, but I have a personal rule against bicycling with a laptop. The last time I rode with it, I fell down and landed on the laptop. The computer was fine, but it hurt to breathe or laugh for a few weeks. Perhaps it would have made more sense just to be a more careful rider. The fall didn’t have anything to do with the laptop and nothing bad happened to it anyhow. The only injury was to myself. Macs are strong. So why on earth I put the ban in place is a mystery.

Anyhow, I was scheduled to give a talk at UCLA at 2pm, so I got in the Volvo with the computer at 1 and left the house. If there’s no traffic, it’s a 15 minute drive. 20 max. So I figured I had enough time to get gas and maybe even stop by the post office.

I filled my tank and took a left on Washington Blvd. Almost immediately, all the power in the car left. The car just stopped. The end. Raptured in the middle of Washington Blvd. I’m generally level-headed about these sorts of things, but it was a bit nerve-wracking. I knew I’d be late to UCLA. I had a bus schedule with me but the bus to UCLA doesn’t run very often and I’d have to get to the correct line from where I was, which would take awhile. I figured probably 2 hours to get to UCLA from where I was via bus. Plus, I was in the center of the road and couldn’t just leave my car there. So I called Triple A and asked for a tow truck. Glad I didn’t get rid of my membership. It does come in handy sometimes even though fundamentally I’m upset about the very idea of paying dues to a “club” that supports automobile driving.

There was some room at the side of the road, so I thought I should get my car over there and out of the traffic lane, even though there’s something undeniably fun about sitting in the middle of the road in your car yakking on the phone. I called the TA to tell her my predicament, and then got out and started pushing. I’m wearing a dress and high heel shoes and I’m pushing a dirty car. Some UHaul van pulls up behind me and starts honking. I get into my usual road rage and yell back that there’s nothing more I can do than what I’m doing. I don’t actually say it in a nice way. Anyhow, I go up to the driver to explain that she should just go around me and it turns out she’s super nice and wants to help. She says she’s been stranded plenty of times herself and she knows what it feels like. So then four people jump out of the van and help me push the car over to the side of the road. I’m tempted to flee the scene right then and there but it’s in a no-parking zone, so I figured I should stay for the tow.

This nice young man picks me and my car up and takes me to some car fixing place nearby. I make it to UCLA 45 minutes late and a bit undone, but it’s fine. I give the talk, and Louis picks me up and brings me back to the car place. Turns out it’s something with “the electrical.” According to the dude, Volvos are notorious for random electrical problems. He can’t really explain why whatever happened happened, and I’m not even sure exactly what went wrong.

Two days later I’m in Detroit and exactly the same thing happens to my phone. Sparks, flashes of light, then it’s taken away to heaven to live with Jesus forever.

Am I next?

The Meow: Does this cat look pregnant?

2009-05-31T22:18:00.002-07:00

It’s getting close to kitten season, and we don’t want what happened last year to repeat itself, so there’s suspicion surrounding the appearance of a new orange feral in the backyard. It was sleeping under the lemon tree this morning when I went out, and there was no sign of our other feral, our primary feral and mother of our kittens, Abby Tabby. We’ve seen the orange cat chase our precious Abby Tabby away from the food and now we stand watch over her while she eats. She tolerates us, but barely. Get too close and she too will run.

Last year around this time, we started to see Abby Tabby in the backyard and running scared down the driveway, but we didn’t think anything of it. There is a large feral population in Los Angeles, and our neighborhood is full of them. It wasn’t until she left four kittens in our rosemary bush that we paid attention, and it’s our hope that the orange cat is not also looking for a place to drop a litter.

The kittens were amazing, and they grew to be elegant beasts, but we don’t need a repeat. There’s not much time in which to trap and neuter the new cat, and since we’re not feeding it, it might be difficult to get into a cage. So skittish! Hard to tell if it’s male or female, every time it jumps the fence I try to sneak a look under the tail to see if there are any balls there, but so far, no luck. I want to see balls because the alternative is kittens.

In other cat news, Amanda at the Hammer sent over some sweet photos of her new cat, Blueberry. The Meow congratulates both Blueberry, the camera-shy Owl, and Amanda on their new companions.

The Meow: Bike Night at the Hammer!

2009-05-31T22:18:00.001-07:00

Like the universe itself, Bike Night started with a big bang.

I was about five blocks from my house when it happened. I had already gotten a late start, because ten minutes before I was supposed to leave I decided I wanted to write a speech to introduce the film. Then I got all nervous because of the speech and I felt icky and sweaty so I had to jump in the shower for a quick spritzdown. So then I was late and nervous and wearing a spanking new black and white sweater/skirt combo. I leapt on my bike and tore down the road.

Then the road tore me. Right before that hill on Cimarron, the bike felt a little funny and I looked down at the back tire, which was completely flat.

Great.

So my head was spinning as fast as I wished my tire was. Should I walk back to my house and grab a different bike? Or change the flat here? Which takes less time? Are the bikes at home in ridable condition or did I steal lights off them for this bike? Do they have air in the tires? I got this new bike about a month and a half ago and it’s all I’ve been riding since then, so I just wasn’t sure if the others were road-worthy at this very moment.

I decided to change the tire, and I called Jen to see if she was going to get to the meeting place before me. She and I were supposed to lead the ride to the Hammer, but she was sick and couldn’t make it, but amazingly, generously offered to come meet me at Scoops beforehand for ice cream and support. So I called to tell her what was up and I think I was weirdly hysterical, yelling, I DON’T KNOW HOW TO GET MY BACK WHEEL OFF! Which of course, I do know how to do. But at that moment, nervous, flustered, on the phone, people staring at me. I’m the crazy white lady with the white dress, a bike upside down, my hands covered in bike grease, clutching an allen wrench and yelling on a cel phone. Not the norm in my neighborhood, certainly.

Amazingly, it took very little time to change the tire. Since the tire was new, I was worried it would take five hundred levers to get it off and way too much patience to get it back on the rim. A miracle. Only one lever to get it off and no time to coax it back in place.

Got to the meeting place with time to spare, bought a fresh tube, put some air in my front tire and got on the road with a huge crowd of art lovers.

Always tough to photograph these big group rides, so here’s a photo that does the experience no justice, but you can see we’re riding into the sunset and it’s a beautiful evening and everyone is on their bikes. We made it to the Hammer by 6:45, which I thought was pretty quick, and we all Bike Valet-ed with the LA County Bike Coalition.

There was a line-up for the all vegan grillfest which stretched around the courtyard. I cut in line, sorry everyone. Then a couple people I know who had chosen to ride Mulholland instead of Santa Monica Blvd showed up, which was a bit shocking. They’d left the same time we did; how did they get here so fast? So I grabbed some extra burgers for them, which I think annoyed people behind me, so sorry again everyone for being so brazen.

There were tons of people there, and the amazing thing is that I knew barely any of them! So who were all these people who valet parked there bikes, filling up bike valet completely?

Maynard got the chance to show off his B&J onesie that I’ve been hearing about seemingly for decades. That color certainly provides great visibility on the road, and it’s even better for an evening soiree!

At 8:30, Breaking Away screening in the Billy Wilder. Since I had that bright idea to write a speech, I introduced the film, which was sort of fun. Great to see it big and there were scenes in there I’d completely forgotten about, like the ones shot of stonecutting.

My bike came back from Bike Valet with a flat front tire. It was the back tire that had been flat earlier in the evening, but when I was putting air in the back tire at Orange 20, Morgan noticed that the front tire could really use some air too. I’d checked it before I’d left the house, and thought it was OK, but I am a notorious under-filler of tires, so I topped it off and didn’t think much about it. When the second flat happened, I thought there perhaps had been some trauma in Bike Valet, and I started taking off the tire but then someone showed up with a pump and it seemed to hold air so I just decided to take a chance and ride home. Wilshire Blvd sucks. Full of cracks and potholes and I didn’t want to jar the bike too much for fear of the worst, so tried to take it slowly. Started with a pack of people, that turned into about ten people soonafter, which dwindled drastically at an intersection (can’t remember where exactly) and then just two, until I peeled off and went south. The air held, I made it home with no problems. This morning, it was flat again.

The Meow: Landfill

2009-05-31T22:17:00.001-07:00

There is a lot to report this week! Things are happening and falling apart, all at the same time.

I decided to make a new sweater to wear to Bike Night, which is coming up very very soon on Thursday April 16. I wanted to make the “sharrow” sweater like the one that’s in the exhibition, but in a different color, so I just burned the pattern cd and fired up the old PC computer that’s attached the knitting machine and… and… nothing. Some green lights blinked momentarily and that’s all that happened. I thought maybe the cord had pulled out, so I checked that but it seemed to be OK. Then I thought maybe the power strip was bad, so I tried another power strip, and finally I figured the wall socket was bad so I hooked up an extension cord and tried another plug. Nothing. So, it’s dead, c’est la vie. I’d bought the thing four years ago off of craigslist. Was $40, came with a sweet 1993 monitor, and was spookily located three blocks from my house.

Yeah, I’m one of those totally annoying “mac people.” It’s gross; I hate being tied to a brand, but it’s all I know, which I am aware of is no excuse. But macs don’t run knitting machines, so I had to step over to the PC side of the world, at least for this one little thing. The computer program that runs the knitting machine is pretty old, so I don’t need anything fancy, which is why I bought the above crappy box. Before that I had another similar one, but it died too. I don’t know if it’s just me or if these kinds of computers are just not built with much longevity.

Anyhow, since it was dead, the search was on for a replacement. Somehow I had this completely deluded idea that people who had PCs would have a pile of old PCs in their closet, waiting to be somehow revived for someone else’s arcane needs. I have a bunch of old macs lying around. It’s like a mac museum over here. Even a Powerbook 100, if anyone out there is interested in some serious laptop history.

Anyhow, I contacted the only two PC users I know. My neighbor, who’s a computer guy (I don’t know what that means, but I think he’s gainfully employed doing something computer-y) had an old beige box in his garage, but he wasn’t sure if it had a Windows operating system and also it needed to be dusted off and he wanted to extract a hard drive before giving it away. Didn’t sound promising. Another friend had two laptops that would maybe work, but turns out the connector port I needed wasn’t on either of them. Then he had a friend who was maybe giving away a computer, but that didn’t work out.

I really didn’t want to buy a new computer. I’ve seen those photos of landfills full of computers and I wanted to be the solution and not the problem. I started getting kind of desperate, and put an ad on Craigslist and combed the classified to find a cheap one. I called Goodwill but they didn’t have any. I called USC Surplus and they had them for thirty bucks, but the computers didn’t have operating systems. Which is weird, right? But I guess that’s the non-mac world. Windows isn’t automatic.

I was completely obsessed. I thought about computers day and night, thinking about how I could find a twenty dollar piece of junk with an OS and the correct rear plug. I even considered buying the cheapest new laptop I could find, along with an adapter. But I didn’t want Vista. The ladies on the knitting machine forum made that sound pretty bunk. Finally, on Friday night, I went to The Public School to teach a class on knitting sweaters and since all I could think about was my computer problems, it was the first thing I told Sean when I got there. And lo and behold, he had the holy grail in his closet, a big beige Dell with a 9 pin port in the back. I swiftly whisked it away to my car, before he had time to think twice about getting rid of his box. He stammered something about confidential files and I told him not to worry, that I was a neophyte about PCs and couldn’t figure out how to open them up anyhow.

I got home and immediately hooked up the computer and this is what I saw. Total funk. Several hours and many google searches later, I’d figured out that the problem was my sweet 1993 SuperCom monitor, which is not supported by Windows. So it was running the wrong display driver which is why it looks like that. It worked in “safe mode” but then the port didn’t work. So eventually I figured out to de-install the driver, and then I could use it, but if I had to restart it, it re-installed that driver again itself and finally Norman the neighbor came over and disabled the driver instead of de-installing it and now it works. Subtle.

But given my track record with beige box PCs, I’m still in the market. Sean was awful kind to loan me his PC, but I don’t want to kill it like the others. I’ve got a couple Linux cheerleaders trying to get me to install Ubuntu on an old mac G4 I’ve got lying around and it still could happen. I’d rather re-purpose something I already have than bring something new and ugly into the house. But, really, do I have time to dive into these deep waters when all I need the computer for is running a very small modest program for the knitting machine? It’s definitely intriguing… seems like a fun challenge… and I have the download ready to pop into the G4, to transform it, give it new life. Another possible resurrection story on an easter weekend….

But in the meantime, I’m up and running again! I’ve knitted all the pieces of this sweater and skirt and now just have to sew them together and wash them before Thursday night. I’m remaking a bunch of sweaters using only black and white. I like the simplicity. That and it’s very chic and will look great with bike grease and blood.

The Meow: Other People's Cats

2009-05-31T22:16:00.000-07:00

A cat cafe recently opened in Tokyo: Calico Cat Cafe. It’s a place where you can take your shoes off, have some tea, and pet some cats. The 14 cats in residence are there for the guests to stroke and ogle. It sounds kind of perfect. There are rules. No waking cats up from naps. It should be enough to have the honor to watch them slumber. Do not hold a cat that does not wish to be held. I wish someone would open a branch of the Calico Cat Cafe here in Los Angeles. I have two delightful felines already, but I enjoy the occasional company of others.

So while I wait patiently for cat cafes to catch on in the US, I’ve been making do with visits to various cats around town. Below is Charlie, Susan’s cat. I’ve known Charlie since she was a very small kitten living in South Pas. Charlie was featured in the January, 2000 issue of American Homebody.

She was sweet and spoiled, a petite primadonna, living alone with her human companion for many years until Susan brought Charlie into her marriage, and now the cat is in residence in a bustling household that includes a a teenager, a two year old, and a husband. By the time this gets posted, there might even be another small human in the mix! Charlie has weathered the changes admirably, hanging on to her panache and lust for life. Here she is in the garden, where she spends some of her daylight hours. She is careful not to go too far. There have been “incidents” and she does not want to be a statistic.

Pancake and Bunny live in Cypress Park near the base of Mount Washington. They come and go as they please, and they don’t even have a litter box! Pancake is a sweet tan cat with a slight cross eye and Bunny is a very fluffy gray kitty. Pancake has his own facebook fan page. I’m not sure if he maintains it himself or subcontracts. Jen has lived with Pancake for awhile, but I’m not sure how many years. Last summer, Bunny moved in from the streets. She cannot seem to get enough affection. These are two kitties that love to be petted. Jen’s house is only 12 cats shy of a proper cat quorum for a cat cafe and with her idyllic garden setting and endless supplies of tea, perhaps she might consider transforming her home into an informal cat cafe (not to be confused with a cat house).

We at the Meow love the kitties, but we remind readers to always spay and neuter their companion animals and any other animals that seem to be making their backyard into their home. One cat who will not be getting any employment at the cat cafe is our very own backyard feral cat, Abby Tabby. Miss Tabby will not let humans near her unless she is in a cage on her way to the vet to be spayed. The only time I ever touched her was when she was still under the spell of the anesthetic. Miss Abby Tabby gave us four delightful kittens and raised them in our garden as a single mother. Once they were weaned we took away her fertility, which I know is unfair since making kittens may in fact be her raison d’etre. Now her reason for living seems to be eating. She’s gotten quite pudgy.

The Meow: Starting Things

2009-05-31T22:15:00.000-07:00

I put seeds in dirt back in February and have been keeping them under the grow-lights since then and today I put a few in pots. I’m growing Prudence Purple, San Marzano, Arkansas Traveler and Ceylon tomatoes. Also some hot peppers, basil, and some flowers. I always feel like I’m doing something illegal when I turn on the grow-lights. Sometimes we shop for organic fertilizer or bug killer at the hydroponic supply shop not too far from here. Their displays feature mostly tomatoes, but I don’t think that’s the crop most of their customers are growing. That they have the best selection of natural and organic products makes sense, and I like shopping at an independent retailer. Our very local store down the way has some growers working at the counter too, though not such a fabulous selection of arcane organic stuff. I remember one time going in and being so impressed with the young man who was working behind the counter. He had such a delicate sensibility for gardening and we talked a bit about his greenhouse and his organic fertilizer habits. It wasn’t until he suggested I buy some product that helps your plants form bigger buds that I understood that he was not growing lavender. In times of “economic crisis” I’m curious to see if the cash crops of urban gardeners expand. In the second place I lived after I moved to Los Angeles, back in 1992, my landlord was a farmer. My bathroom looked out over the garden and there were times of the year the reek was so strong it would invade my apartment. Sometimes it wafted out to the street. It was an idyllic place to call home, but eventually they sold the place and moved to New Mexico.

The Meow: Cat Books for Weekend Reading

2009-05-31T22:14:00.000-07:00

Nine Lives is not a show about cats, but who can resist the idea that it might be? We at The Meow firmly believe that the feline is the highest form of animal perfection on this planet. Their sweet little eyes, their beautifully shaped mouths, sweet saggy bellies, precious paws, graceful tails, sandpaper tongues, curving claws, elegant coats…. what could be better? Certainly those needy, drooling, smelly, loud, messy members of that “other” domesticated species (you know, the one that 90% of the pet store caters to) have nothing to recommend itself, except to those perhaps who enjoy the noise and stink and the animal recognition that they, indeed, are special.

A cat doesn’t care, unless there’s food involved. It’s a cliche to admit that they become the kings and queens of the castle when they make themselves at home, but there’s some truth to this. The Silent Miaow is written from the point of view of a delightful cat, who, after her mother is killed by a car, looks towards a cushy suburban house for shelter. She trains the residents to love and care for her, and her account of her relationship to this man and woman is the subject of this book. From a chapter simply titled “Food:” “The easiest humans with whom to cope are the ignorant, and the time to train them and make your wishes known should be at the very beginning, when they are still overcome with the honor you are doing them by remaining in their house.” Peppered with delightful photographs of a white bellied tabby, the book is a joyous celebration of the domination of kitty cats over their humans.

The Literary Cat, edited by JC Suares and Seymour Chwast, is a collection of poems, stories and artwork about our favorite creature. Theodore Roosevelt describes the antics of his cat Tom Quartz in a letter to his son, Lord Redesdale’s story, “The Vampire Cats of Nabshima” is scary, and May Senson’s poem “The Secret of the Cat” tells of taking apart a cat to see what makes it purr. Bewitching and magical cats abound in this book, which is also heavily illustrated with paintings and drawings. Yummy.

Catwise is a collection of black and white photographs of cats paired with pithy quotes about serious matters. Aristotle, Emerson, Virgil, and Martin Luther are represented alongside pictures of cats Dandelion, Frisbee 1, Frisbee 2, Itty Bitty, Bootsie, Bird, Mrs. Skeffington, Faustus, Muff, and Little Crazy.

The Meow: Anger at the Hammer

2009-05-31T22:13:00.002-07:00

The Satanists were out in full force at the Hammer tonight for the talk and films about Aleister Crowley by filmmaker and man-about-town Kenneth Anger. The courtyard looked like a black mass or something, with all the cauldrons, human sacrifices, sheepsblood, etc. What a mess.

Demons lurked in every corner, jumping into photographs when the subject would least expect it, the beastly version of the light-hearted “bunny ears” sprouting from behind unsuspecting heads. We almost had to call an exorcist, but then the line started moving, and the crowds of doom and gloom swept into the pink seats of the Billy Wilder. Inside the theater, things were just as grim and horrific, with the throngs of black-hearted revelers prowling and growling.

Anger appeared in a natty outfit consisting of a custom hockey jersey and some incredible orange pants. The fabric was chic and had a sheen to it that could see from the seventh row. There were rumors flying around the theater that they were prison pants, but there’s no way. They were too beautiful. He spoke about Crowley, about his former patron, and showed films he’d made of artwork done by Crowley long ago.

Last spring, I had the pleasure of visiting Crowley’s Cefalu home, which Anger spoke briefly about during his presentation. Crowley lived there for a short time in the 1920’s, before being kicked out of Italy for some sort of hogwash. The paintings on the walls of this home are rumored to have been made by Crowley himself. As you can see from these photographs, the place is in quite a bit of disrepair. Visitors must enter through a broken window and not all who visit restrain themselves from adding their own personal touch to the walls. The films Anger showed this evening were ones he’d made of Crowley’s paintings and drawings, which looked very much like the images on these walls.

It is rumored that Anger made a film of these paintings decades ago, presumably while they were in better shape, but the rumor goes on to say that this film has been “lost.” Anger does not do Q&A sessions, but he does accept mailed letters. I had my pen poised, but he did not come forth with his address. I will track him down. I will get the story about these paintings. THE MEOW does not take no for an answer!

The Meow: Pink Seats and Dirty Feet

2009-05-31T22:13:00.001-07:00

Went to the Hammer twice last week and both times went looking at shoes on the way home. On Thursday I went to check out Erin Cosgrove’s video piece. I know I shouldn’t brag about such things, but this was probably the first time that I ever went to a museum and sat down for nearly an hour to watch a projection. I am usually a pacer, an impatient viewer, or I’m hungry or tired, or whatever. Plus it makes my eyes feel weird and sometimes gives me a headache. This time I was prepared, well fed, knew what I was getting into, and in fact made a superspecial trip to the museum to see her piece. And, wow, totally worth it. Beautiful and epic and smart and funny and wild. I probably should have posted this sooner, since now if you read it, you’re in a snooze-you-lose situation. The show’s over. I don’t know Erin’s email address, so I’ll just say it loud and clear on the international network: Erin, you rock!

After the Hammer, I stopped by a little espresso place in Westwood for this very beautiful cappuccino at Espresso Profeta. Cappuccinos are supposedly named after an order of monks, the Capuchin. It’s unclear why exactly, but I’m thinking if this whole art thing doesn’t work out, maybe I should go to divinity school. Anyhow, it’s quite lovely at this place, which I’d seen while walking around Westwood one afternoon taking photos to demonstrate concepts of “depth of field” and overexposure to show my beginning digital photography students. I thought it looked yummy, but it was too late in the afternoon to drink espresso at the time. So I went back and wasn’t disappointed. It’s on Glendon, if you’re wondering.

So brain satiated with images of Yoder and Troyer and blood rushing from caffeine, I boarded the 720 bus east to Beverly Hills, where I went on a full-on shoe mission that ended in disappointment. Without getting into too many specifics, I will say that shopping is not my strong suit. I am easily confused and I do not like wearing what other people want me to wear. This is especially true when it comes to these gladiator style shoes that are so popular these days. They are so low to the ground that they invite debris, while being visually distracting and quite ugly. The alternative at the high-end department stores in Bev Hills is the high heel, which I’m all for, but I have a two hour limit on actually wearing them before I have an attack of the vapors and am forced to retreat to a lounge for the remainder of whatever event I’ve sprouted that extra five inches for.

There is something wonderful about taking the bus, or maybe many wonderful things. Not having to park. No road rage. Hitching a ride with someone already going in your direction, the opportunity to read a book while in motion, etc. But the sucky thing is when you just want to get HOME NOW and you gotta wait and hang out and then stand in the bus while the driver is lurching all over the place and you’re about to fall down. So I walked around Bev Hills a bit and then headed back to Wilshire, where a couple very crowded number 720 buses came by and I guess I wasn’t in that much of a hurry cause I just kept standing there. There was a guy with a dog in a box who was very upset with buses that would stop and then leave right as he was about to board. The dog was really small and tucked into this cardboard box, so not sure if the drivers knew about the dog or if they just thought the guy was nuts. He was screaming expletives at the top of his lungs.

The 920 bus is an express service on Wilshire that is super fast and barely stops anywhere. Not sure when they started this one, but it’s brilliant. I think we only stopped at Fairfax and Western, which is where I switched routes. I usually take the Western bus south to my neighborhood but it’s often super crowded, so I got on the Crenshaw bus instead and there was barely anyone on it and I’d rather walk a mile than have to sit next to some stinky person who’s yelling on their cel phone or slapping their child or just sitting there quietly with the smell of their perfume. Walked home past the usual neighborhood sites, which seemed a little more somber and scary after the murder that happened nearby the previous evening.

Saturday I rode my bike to a picnic in Elysian Park and I brought a sandwich and everyone laughed at me.

On Sunday, Kaari and Charlie and Michael and I had a “conversation” or was it a “discussion” on the stage of the Billy Wilder Theater, which is such a lovely space with those hot pink seats. From the stage when the theater is empty you can see that some seats have worn more than others, some have more of a permanent depression in the upholstery. I was 100% nervous and have forgotten everything I said during the hour or so we were up onstage. I regained consciousness over a plate of shishito peppers and a glass of beer and then went shoe shopping at DSW which is right nearby the museum and has many many many pairs of practical shoes. I met my husband over at Whole Foods and hitched a ride home with him.

Today I fixed the toilet.

If anyone has any questions about taking the bus in Los Angeles, please get in touch. It’s not scary and can be really fun and they take $1.25, exact change only and are in the middle of switching to TAP cards, but I haven’t really dealt with that yet.

The Meow: OPENING NIGHT AT THE HAMMER

2009-05-31T22:08:00.000-07:00

From March 6 through May 29th, 2009, "The Meow" appeared on the Hammer website while I was in an exhibition there called "Nine Lives." With the closing of the exhibition, I'm re-posting the entries here.

Saturday, March 7, 2009
Nine Lives opened this weekend and there were tons of people at the opening. Thanks to everyone who schlepped out to Westwood Saturday night. Midway through the evening someone said it was SO crowded that they had to park all the way down on P6! That’s pretty deep. Here are a few pix from the opening. I was eating mini-cupcakes and drinking beer all evening, except when I was in the gallery, where food and drink is banned.

I wore a No on 8/Octomom sweater in black and white with red trim. Chic!

Hundreds of people wove their way through my sweaters and skirts, which were hanging from the ceiling on mannequin torsos built to look like my body. The “Please Do Not Touch” signs were pretty big, but no one seemed to notice them.

Shelley and Walt from the Mannequin Gallery came to the opening to see their handiwork. They made those hanging torsos that no one could keep their hands off of. Walt did the carving of the body the mannequins were cast from. I wanted it to be my body because the sweaters are made to fit me, and there aren’t really any mannequins in my shape available commercially. I went to Pacoima to be measured a few months ago and then I sent over some nearly naked photos of myself for them to work from. Yes, I felt weird about that but first of all, they are professionals, and secondly, I blurred my head so it just looked like something off some random voyeur website anyhow. Whatever. Walt kept trying to make me bustier than I am; thanks but no thanks. We finally got the ladies flat enough and the sweaters look great on them.

And speaking of ladies, what would the International Women’s Day March be without a sighting of Miss Maynard Monrow?

I also found International Women’s Day supporter, my mom, at the march, and I dragged her inside the museum to look at the show.

The only thing that could have made a delightful evening even lovlier was my cats, but, despite the name of the exhibition, kittens, like beer and cupcakes, are not allowed in the galleries. I was absolutely thrilled to see Daisy and Clyde when I returned home, and even more thrilled to get those painful but beautiful shoes off my aching feet.

The Meow: BIKING TO THE HAMMER

2009-05-31T22:03:00.000-07:00

From March 6 through May 29th, 2009, "The Meow" appeared on the Hammer website while I was in an exhibition there called "Nine Lives." With the closing of the exhibition, I'm re-posting the entries here.

Friday, March 6th, 2009
I rode over to the Hammer this morning for the press preview of Nine Lives. The concept of having nine lives is never more important than when navigating the mean streets of Los Angeles on a bicycle. I live in Jefferson Park. It’s a bit of a schlep to the museum from home, maybe 10 miles, maybe 12. Who knows. I don’t have an odometer and mileage doesn’t matter so much when you’re on a bike. It’s more about time. I left around a quarter to nine and got to the museum an hour and a bit later. If you just keep going, doesn’t matter how slowly, eventually you’ll get where you’re going.

Rode Pico most of the way, and it was a pretty smooth and uneventful journey. Century City is a bit of a daunting area and riding around it is a bit hairy. Just big wide streets and people driving pretty quickly. There’s not a great East-West route from my place to Westwood, so gotta make do with the streets that exist. Wilshire going West through Beverly Hills is the worst. First of all, I always get the feeling that Beverly Hills drivers don’t like bikes and don’t want to be bothered with sharing the road. Then there’s that section through the country club, which is total death. No shoulder, no sidewalk, and since there aren’t any turn-offs, the drivers just go as fast as possible through there, and since it’s Beverly Hills, they have big ridiculous cars or really fast ones, and they’re on the phone doing some sort of business, so not really paying attention. The last time I tried going though that area, on the way to an opening at the Getty, I was sobbing near Barney’s when I finally called Louis to pick me up. Because I’m an eternal optimist, I thought perhaps the area wasn’t as bad as I’d originally thought, so I’ve ridden through a few other times and it’s horrible each time. So Pico was the choice this time around, and it wasn’t so bad. All the way to Westwood and then north to the museum.

After the preview, I had to meet my grandmother and aunt for lunch, so I took the bus down Wilshire so I wouldn’t have to risk it. From the bus windows I could see a sidewalk on the south side of Wilshire, through that grisly stretch. I’d never noticed it before, but next time I’ll just cross over and ride the sidewalk! Trying to figure out some good routes that people can take over to Bike Night at the Hammer!, which is on April 16. A cross-town commuter friend of mine also suggested Olympic, so maybe I’ll try that too.

Storm clouds came into view after lunch and I had to hurry home. The sweater made to wear to the opening was drying in the backyard and I couldn’t risk it getting soaked. The rain never did materialize and my new No On 8/Octomom sweater was warm and dry and ready to go.

Starting Things

2009-04-03T12:22:00.000-07:00

I put seeds in dirt back in February and have been keeping them under the grow-lights since then and today I put a few in pots. I'm growing Prudence Purple, San Marzano, Arkansas Traveler and Ceylon tomatoes. Also some hot peppers, basil, and some flowers. I always feel like I'm doing something illegal when I turn on the grow-lights. Sometimes we shop for organic fertilizer or bug killer at the hydroponic supply shop not too far from here. Their displays feature mostly tomatoes, but I don't think that's the crop most of their customers are growing. That they have the best selection of natural and organic products makes sense, and I like shopping at an independent retailer. Our very local store down the way has some growers working at the counter too, though not such a fabulous selection of arcane organic stuff. I remember one time going in and being so impressed with the young man who was working behind the counter. He had such a delicate sensibility for gardening and we talked a bit about his greenhouse and his organic fertilizer habits. It wasn't until he suggested I buy some product that helps your plants form bigger buds that I understood that he was not growing lavender. In times of "economic crisis" I'm curious to see if the cash crops of urban gardeners expand. In the second place I lived after I moved to Los Angeles, back in 1992, my landlord was a farmer. My bathroom looked out over the garden and there were times of the year the reek was so strong it would invade my apartment. Sometimes it wafted out to the street. It was an idyllic place to call home, but eventually they sold the place and moved to New Mexico.
It was the sixth anniversary of the invasion of Iraq last week, so I thought I should make a new pair of mittens memorializing the number of soldiers killed thus far in the conflict. I'm restricting my number to American soldiers who died from injuries sustained in Iraq, because I've made a few pairs of mittens like this before and that's what I've done. So 4261 does not include the soldiers killed in Afghanistan, nor does it include contractors, journalists and other foreigners killed because of this war. I also do not include the number of Iraqi civilians or soldiers who have perished, because that number is not available, and, if it were, it would be too big for a pair of mittens. I started knitting these a few days ago but I am slow, slow, slow at hand knitting especially in this case where there are two charts involved in two different books. I'm using a palm pattern from a Selbu mitten book and of course the other side I designed myself. I haven't tried this particular pattern before but since I bought the yarn in Norway I thought it would be nice to do a traditional Norwegian mitten design.

APRIL 16 is BIKE NIGHT AT THE HAMMER!!!

2009-03-29T19:59:00.001-07:00

Jen and I are meeting up at Heliotrope and Melrose at 5:00 and leaving at 5:30 sharp. Bring your bike and pedal with us to the Hammer for the epic and fun Bike Night! If you haven't seen Breaking Away since 1979 when it first came out, it's time to see it again. If you weren't born in 1979 and you've never heard of it, now's the time to get with the program. It's the film that spawned a hundred thousand bike-people. When I saw it in 1979, my dad was going on and on about the quarries in Bloomington, where he'd gone to college. He was totally into biking back then and used to take his bike apart every year and put it back together again for some reason. I'm not sure why, but I recall that ball bearings sometimes got lost in the yard while he was working on it. Not to digress too much, but if you've seen me on an oldish Dawes Realm Rider former ten speed, now fixed gear bike, that's the one that my dad used to take apart. I got a Raleigh 10 speed on my tenth birthday and we used to ride around to Long Grove or on the Green Bay trail and one year we went to some godforsaken trail in Illinois next to a train track. It was lined with hedges for 36 miles so all you could see was hedges and it wasn't very fun. Biking was great fun for a kid who wasn't good at sports. Seems like many of the people I know these days say they were the last ones picked for team sports during gym class in elementary school. I hung onto that distinction through high school. And I still suck at team sports.
Anyhow, I saw Breaking Away again in a hotel in Utah when I was doing a story for a ski magazine ten years ago or so and I was totally jazzed. I'm pretty sure that seeing that film again, sitting on a yucky hotel bed while outside a storm raged, led somehow to the hanging up of my skis and the embrace of my two wheels. Skiing's great, but you have to go somewhere special and have a lot of gear. Biking's something you can do everywhere and it can change your life and you don't usually end up with frostbite. At least in LA, you don't.
It's rare to find a movie that has an impact on your life. It's a cheesey, romantic, silly, sweet film, Breaking Away is, but it crept into my consciousness right at the right times. I'm hoping that the gang who shows up April 16 to see it projected in the Billy Wilder theater will get something out of it too.

Stuff going on.

2009-03-18T09:19:00.000-07:00

A few things:

1. For the next few months, I am going to be updating a blog at the Hammer Museum called "The Meow" so may be slacking on this one or might do some cross-posting. Check "The Meow" if you don't hear from me for awhile.

2. I'll be showing some work over at A Mano Yarn Center on March 27 during their monthly "Bad Girl Knit Night." I'm assuming bad boys are also welcome.

3. I've proposed a class at The Public School. I'm proposing to teach people how to use my knitting machine to make their own sweater with their own message on it. Not for the faint of heart!

4. Bike Night at the Hammer! is coming up soon. APRIL 16. Mark your calendar and get on your bike. Breaking Away screens at 8:30pm but get there early to see the art, hang out, valet park your bike (courtesy LACBC), hear some music, eat some food. Will be fun. For those of you who have never heard of Breaking Away, it's awesome!

Press Whore!

2009-03-13T08:39:00.001-07:00

I'm so excited that my sweaters made it to the Huffington Post today! I'm always looking at the HuffPo for inspiration, so it's supersweet to be part of the action. And in an article with Jenny Holtzer no less. I am totally and completely honored!

Opening Night at the Hammer

2009-03-08T17:53:00.000-07:00

Nine Lives opened this weekend and there were tons of people at the opening. Thanks to everyone who schlepped out to Westwood Saturday night. Midway through the evening someone said it was SO crowded that they had to park all the way down on P6! That's pretty deep. Here are a few pix from the opening. I was eating mini-cupcakes and drinking beer all evening, except when I was in the gallery, where food and drink is banned.
I wore a No on 8/Octomom sweater in black and white with red trim. Chic!
Hundreds of people wove their way through my sweaters and skirts, which were hanging from the ceiling on mannequin torsos built to look like my body. The "Please Do Not Touch" signs were pretty big, but no one seemed to notice them.
Shelley and Walt from the Mannequin Gallery came to the opening to see their handiwork. They made those hanging torsos that no one could keep their hands off of. Walt did the carving of the body the mannequins were cast from. I wanted it to be my body because the sweaters are made to fit me, and there aren't really any mannequins in my shape available commercially. I went to Pacoima to be measured a few months ago and then I sent over some nearly naked photos of myself for them to work from. Yes, I felt weird about that but first of all, they are professionals, and secondly, I blurred my head so it just looked like something off some random voyeur website anyhow. Whatever. Walt kept trying to make me bustier than I am; thanks but no thanks. We finally got the ladies flat enough and the sweaters look great on them.

And speaking of ladies, what would the International Women's Day March be without a sighting of Miss Maynard Monrow?
I also found International Women's Day supporter, my mom, at the march, and I dragged her inside the museum to look at the show.
The only thing that could have made a delightful evening even lovlier was my cats, but, despite the name of the exhibition, kittens, like beer and cupcakes, are not allowed in the galleries. I was absolutely thrilled to see Daisy and Clyde when I returned home, and even more thrilled to get those painful but beautiful shoes off my aching feet.