Oh, this old thing?

Watch out Portland! We've got our own Sartorialist roaming the streets. Put on your best outfit and maybe you'll get tagged... (Especially if you just happen to be lounging around Fresh Pot on Mississippi...)

Urban Weeds: Street Style From Portland blog

Happy Father's Day

I've always thought that my dad was just the dad I needed--not perfect, but perfect enough. He was the kind of dad that would sit with you when you were sick or bring you a lunch if you forgot one (a really good lunch, too, with a sandwich, candy bar, and 7Up). I used to sit in his shop when I was seven or eight and ask him to explain the universe or the Stock Market. He could always get us to sleep by reading Old Man and the Sea. He said that I was just too softhearted for the world, but I think he was the ol' softie.

I miss him terribly since he's been in Alaska for so long. I want him here to be a grandpa to Olivia. Maybe someday.

Happy Father's Day Dad. xxoo

A little bit of Proust for your Friday...

“To elaborate on loss, to look for some insight in it, is not just what a psychologically mature person does, it’s how a person matures." -Dr. Laura A. King

I was watching a TV show yesterday (ok, it was Oprah) and they were discussing loss as a spiritual lesson. A woman was devastated that her business failed and one of the most significant things she said was "This wasn't what I imagined, this wasn't supposed to happen."

But isn't that life? Unexpected, unwelcome things happen and yet, that is when you really LIVE. That's when life becomes an opportunity. Too often, and I certainly do this, it is easier to concentrate on the injustice rather than the possibilities. Elaborating on loss, not ruminating and suffering is the only way of coming out of it (and you will come out of it) changed. As Proust said, "We are healed from suffering only by experiencing it to the full."

my baby!

Here's a super cute picture of Olivia that I took last night:


She's such a good sleeper that usually she's in bed by 8:00PM. This picture, however, was her at 9:00PM, wide awake...

I went in for my annual today and was a bit dismayed that I actually weigh two pounds more now than before I got pregnant. I thought I weighed less. Perhaps it is all of the strawberry shortcake I've been shoving in my face.

Happy weekend!

I LOVE THIS

We've been looking for the perfect toothbrush holder and I think I've found it! Nothing like a little religious guilt to get you to brush your choppers!

(From Urban Outfitters)

Street Yoga

I've lived in Portland for so long, how did I miss hearing about this very cool program?: "Street Yoga gives youth and their caregivers the tools to overcome early life trauma, through the sharing of life-building mindfulness and wellness practices grounded in the ancient healing principles of yoga. We serve by helping them create a sense of true home in their own bodies, minds and communities."

This makes so much sense to me. Yoga is about body awareness and appreciation--concepts that probably take a backseat to everyday survival and fulfillment of basic needs. But if a person can have a moment of peace where their body is more than just the shell carried around all day, it must be worthwhile.

I was shopping at Trader Joe's the other day while Olivia snoozed in her car seat perched on the top of cart. In the midst of the frozen food aisle, a woman came over and said, "Oh, what a beautiful baby!"

"Well I think so, but I'm just the mother," I said.

She looked at me and said, "Just the mother? That is a very important position to have."

So Happy Mother's Day to all of us.

Lately...

Some images from my day:

It's Business Time

Even before we had Olivia, I'd heard about the myth of babies using the potty. I didn't know anyone who'd tried it and everyone in my circle of friends and sisters was suspicious.

Yet, I was curious.

The literature in support of "EC" (short for "elimination communication" or baby toileting) requires adherence to the attachment parenting to do list: breastfeeding, co-sleeping, baby wearing, cloth diapering, etc. If you are not doing all of the above, you will FAIL and then once again, here is an activity bound to make you feel bad about your parenting.

In reality, most of the parents I know follow a sort of cafeteria plan instead of a strict diet of Dr. Sears or any other parenting guru. That's my philosophy too, so I thought this toileting would simply become an opportunity to be peed on.

Nonetheless, after reading some books on EC and taking the good stuff and letting go of the others*, I took the baby potty plunge. I discovered right away that it doesn't take a genius or a baby whisperer to figure out when the baby needs to go poop. One evening, as Olivia was obviously ready for her evening constitution, we put her on the toilet and she did her business there.

Well that was easy, I thought.

I went out and bought a tiny white Baby Bjorn potty and we've been trying to use it when it seems like it's time to pee. After a bottle or before a bath seem to be good times. Just a few times a day. If she doesn't go, it's no big deal. When she does, and I don't have to clean up smeared poop from her behind, it's a really big deal.

And, I don't ever feel like a bad parent.

(*If you are interested in trying EC, I would not recommend this book. It's bound to bring your self confidence to a screeching halt. I liked this one much better with its more balanced approach.)

Exactly what I look like in the morning....

olivia in the a.m.

olivia in the a.m., originally uploaded by alisaeve.

It's a good thing her auntie is a hair dresser...

Anchored Down In Anchorage

I recently came across "Short Sharp Shocked" by Michelle Shocked after not hearing it for years. I remember riding in Sally Sparks' red Toyota in 1988 listening to her copy of the tape over and over. "Anchorage" still makes me a little misty. I'm completely in love with this sweet French boy singing a version in front of the Sacré Coeur:

Swimsuit Season is Upon Us!

I intend to make full use of my local public pool with Olivia this summer. However, I'm not quite ready to show my mummy-tummy, and thus the need for a good-looking one-piece bathing suit.

I'm inspired by the red suit Kate Winslet wore in Little Children:Hers was one-off, but I love the color and the understated hotness. Here's one by Jantzen that would also flatter the belly region and the cut is pure vintage:

I'd get this JCrew suit in black. I love the wrap front and cross-back:

Here's one by Victoria's Secret. Upon wearing, your supposed to feel a "slight compression." I guess it's like Spanx for swimwear:


Why is it that swimsuit models have such weird looks on their faces? The piping (more prononunced than Kate's) and internal shaping in this suit at ShapeFX could do wonders, but the model annoys.

We're A Contender!

Lookie! Our house was picked as one of Apartment Therapy's Small Cool House contenders! Go and vote for us!

Dogs & Babies & Sunshine

Spring spring spring. I love it! Well, I loved the three days of spring before today when the weather turned cold again... At least we all had a stroll. Mister seemed tired after a while, so he got a lift home:

How many times have I uttered these words??

"Untitled (I told my therapist about you)"
by Mike Monteiro (available at 20x20 Art)

Twilight Examined

If you are of a certain age (over 15) this whole Twilight phenomenon may have passed you by. Short version: Love happens between high school girl and pretty boy vampire in small town Washington. While not a particularly new idea (Buffy, anyone?), Twilight is a totally different, uh, beast.

To be fair, I've never read the Twilight books but I did see the movie last night. Here are my thoughts:

1. These vampires and their oblivious human neighbors take themselves very seriously. No funny business, there's unironic brooding going on here.

2. Speaking of brooding, the scene where Edward and Bella meet in the science class was hilarious. I know we're supposed to believe that Edward is trying really hard not to suck her blood, (see photo above) but I couldn't help but hum the Andy Samberg classic, "Jizz in my pants."

3. And what about Ms. Kristen Stewart, graduate of the Mary Stuart Masterson school of breathless acting? "Oh, *gasp* Edward, I *sigh deeply* so totally *uh, suck in air* trust you!"

4. I love how Bella immediately deduces from Edward's pallor and show of superhuman strength that he must be a vampire. That is where I would go too.

5. I admit that it was impressive how they made running really fast through the woods not look retarded.

6. Why, if Edward is 200+ years old, would he fall for a gawky teen girl? One would think that he would want the company of a more mature woman (or say, one that is 36?).

7. Having been the new girl at school, I can attest to the fact that the entire student body DOES NOT know your name on the first day. Or any other subsequent day.

8. Is it me or is this a subtle abstinence film? Edward struggles to restrain himself from sucking the life out of our fair heroin (I mean heroine) , does that then automatically preclude sex? (Yet Bella's mom tells her to "Be safe," so are we to assume Bella's been around the block?)

Anyone else see this classic & wish to share?

Number Four With A Smile

Twice this past week, I dreamed I was in public without any underwear. In the first dream, I was in a bank wearing only a backless robe and when the security guard tried to stop me, I told him that I knew there was no law against being nude in a bank. In the second dream, I was in a ballet class with nothing beneath my tutu.

In my waking life, these would be nightmare scenarios. But as dreams, they signal my lack of shame about myself and willingness to be exposed. (Not like that!) I find myself at a moment in my life when all of the pieces fit together. I'm glad I'm aware of it now: Sometimes we don't know that everything is right until it's gone.

My best friend from middle school, Sharon, who I haven't seen since 1990 found me on Facebook the other day. She said, "You look happy." I thought, "Well I'll be goddamn! I am happy!" Not walking on sunshine happy, blissed out on Jesus happy, but content. Satisfied. Panties-free kinda happy.

In any event, perhaps this sense of exposure is also due to this very exciting announcement: annabelle magazine is now a blog! Instead of static issues, we're using the blog format to write timely pieces about our favorite topic: home! So head over to annabelle at home for your daily dose of design with some sass on the side.

Sweet dreams!

Past and Present

I finally saw the documentary "Clearcut" about my hometown, Philomath, on Sundance. In the 22 years since I left Philomath, it seems that nothing has changed politically even while the population quadrupled and fields that once grew nothing but grass are now housing subdivisions. The struggle between the conservative religious right and their insistence on controling the liberal elements of the community has not changed since I lived there. It was there in my house as my ultra-conservative dad and ultra-liberal mom tried to keep it together through the Reagan years.

For those of you who don't know, until a few years ago, Philomath High School grads were given a no-strings scholarship in the amount of OSU's tuition to use at any college. The Clemens Foundation, the legacy of a timber baron for the children of his logger employees, funded the scholarships as well as the swimming pool my sisters and I learned to swim in, the track we ran on, and the fields our schools sat on. But something so pure can't last. The Foundation board used their money to try to control the actions and behaviors of the student body--a policy so antithetical to the spirit of the scholarship. It was sad to watch the right and left elements finally explode apart.

I'll always be nostaligic for the bucollic setting of my childhood, but I'm glad to be free of the politics.

Travel Oregon

I'm a native Oregonian and while I fancy myself highly knowledgeable about the entire state, I'd never heard of the Owyee Canyonlands before today. Isn't it gorgeous?

Chris and I are pondering a trip to eastern Oregon to check out this wilderness area.

(photos by Greg Burke)

You kiss your mother with that mouth?

Today is my niece Ava's sixth birthday. (Yeah!) My gift to her is a mix cd with her favorite Top-40 hits featuring music that makes my ears bleed, i.e. Akon, Katy Perry, etc. I gladly infect my iTunes with this "music" because I think it is exceedingly important to encourage a love of music in youngsters. When I was younger, my older sisters introduced me to music that I enjoy to this day. (I still remember the day in 1984 when my older sister Laurel came home with the new Wham UK! record for me and said, "I think you are going to love this album." Thus beginning my love affair with George Michael. But I digress.)

BUT, here's my issue: music on the radio these days--the stuff Ava likes--is so foul-mouthed! Even when I download the clean versions, there is enough suggestive language to make me want to put earmuffs on all kids within hearing distance. When Lily Allen brags about her "f*&^kloads of diamonds" will Ava believe she just said "truckloads?" Uh, no.

It makes me sentimental for the days of "Darling Nikki" when at least Prince tried to cover up the raunch. Although, there was the Violent Femmes song that asked "How can I get just one f*&K" that almost got our record player reposessed by my horrified father.

Anyway, Happy Birthday Ava. Sorry for teaching you curse words. -Auntie

Baby Talk

Now that Olivia is two months old and the source of endless fascination to us, I've become aware of a very important fact: Not everyone cares.

And I completely understand.

That’s why I found this article in the most recent Elle so timely. Basically, writer Nancy Hass says that women who talk about their children at work are not just sharing news but subtly bringing the entire feminist movement to a screeching halt. She tells the story of a high-powered CEO wanting to swap kid stories and finally asking Hass: “Tell me,” she says, gripping my knee with a cool hand, “isn’t it just the best thing you’ve ever done?”

Turns out it's not. But the implication is, once again, women are to measure their own value not by their work but by their children. It seems that it's the need for validation that irks Hass so much: "Can you imagine women in small Indian villages standing around the local well asking for reassurance from the others that having their brood of kids is 'the best thing they’ve ever done'? It’s a ready-made caption for a New Yorker cartoon."

We should be discussing our dreams and passions, not our kids. But how realistic is that?

Speaking of, the baby is awake.

The Heart Factory

If you don't have a heart, you can order one from the Heart Factory. (Or buy one here.)

p.s. Happy Valentine's Day

What the Folk?

Argh! I'm so upset!

We received notice that The Flight of the Conchords was coming to Portland and pre-sale tickets would go on sale yesterday at 10am. We tried buying them yesterday at 10am but they were sold out.

Well, we (stupidly) thought, we'll just buy them online when they go on sale to the public this morning at 10am. We tried at 10am. Sold out. I tried calling. Sold out. I drove all the way downtown to the box office at 10:15 am. Sold out. The lady at the box office (who was unmoved by the tears in my eyes) said that only 15 people in line got tickets this morning.

Here's the math:

Number of seats at The Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall: 2,776

Maximum number of tix per household: 8

Number of actual tickets available to the general public based on the box office sales: 120



I hate concerts.

Olivia and Cousin Elena and Their Patron Saints

Don't these two:



Remind you of these two??:

Southern Living

I love these pictures of Southern houses from Garden & Gun Magazine.

PHOTO CREDITS: Eric Kiel, Andy Anderson, Richard Sexton

New Acquisition: I love horses

"Amish Horses" by Collen Plumb, 20x20 Gallery

Insane Bosses and Their Spotless Minions

I read this post on Gawker about the state of Martha Stewart's Omnimedia offices with a nervous chuckle.

Back in 2003, I worked in the same building as Martha (the Starrett-Lehigh Building in NYC) at an ad agency/publishing company. The owner of the company, a diminutive French businessman, worked in our NYC office two weeks of every month and two weeks in Paris. During the two weeks when our tormentor--I mean boss--was in Paris, our office was an average creative agency with the requisite mock-ups pinned to the wall and Pantone books fanned across every empty spot. But when the Tormentor came to town, the office was to look just as Martha wants it, i.e. as if no one worked there. Thus, every second Friday we'd purge the office of all papers, Post-its and cram the contents of our desks in hidden closets and cabinets. It wasn't a calm office clean-up, mind you, it was an insane five-garbage-bag hurricane where we all cleaned as if our jobs depended on it. And they did, actually.

Because I was the office manager at the time, I was ultimately responsible for the cleanliness of office and the Tormentor's apartment which was conveniently attached to the office. One of my job duties was to make the Tormentor's bed before he arrived from Paris. Unfortunately for me, the weekend before he arrived, our Creative Director had some friends over for a party in the Tormentor's apartment and didn't tell me. Monday morning, Tormentor arrives with his Louis Vuitton luggage and opens the door to his apartment. All I heard was the screaming of my name in a French accent.

I managed to keep the job for a few more months before I was canned. It took me a long time to get over that job. It felt as though something essential about me had been changed, like I was a prisoner who'd been terrorized by the warden. On the other hand, I learned an extraordinary amount about magazines, design, and style.

Nonetheless, looking at the pictures of Martha's office and watching her lame video explanation of the rationing of pens make me SO HAPPY that I don't have her for a boss.

(p.s. I wrote more about the experience here.)

Seattle Ho!

We took our first post-baby out-of-town trip this past weekend for the very special occasion of Spencer & Gigi's baby shower. I've never been much of a Seattle fan. It's so much like Portland that I find myself looking around trying to recognize people. But Seattle does have one very LARGE plus in its favor: H&M. Now that I know the best Euro-trash fashion source is a mere 2 1/2 hour drive away, we'll be hitting Seattle more often.

Would it be weird...

...to make a diaper out of a ShamWow™?