this is jacob hart cafferty

asking me to marry him.

(i said yes).

love,

j

happy fourth!

(red velvet flag cake with cream cheese frosting and fresh raspberries and blueberries).

yum.

love,

j

the third and the seventh

(heard about this on npr... it's all computer-generated, which blows my mind a little bit. architecture as art. i suppose it really speaks for itself, and i feel as though my words are entirely inadequate in attempting to explain it):

love,

j

long time, no see, stranger...

it's been too long. a month, actually. i had just started in my new job last i posted. had a beautiful birthday (went on a sea plane and got a sewing machine!), painted a bunch, and am learning how to teach, and really teach, a class full of 3 to 5 year olds...

but i just want to write about one beautiful moment tonight:

i came home early from work not feeling well, and, after running errands and picking up groceries, i found myself standing at the stove in silence.

when i was a little girl, i remember watching my mom eat. she'd eat standing up (she did everything standing up), and quickly (she did everything quickly). my mom was a waitress, a single mom, a beautiful woman... she was and is and becomes more beautiful every day. my favorite dinner, and one we had frequently, was mac and cheese, especially if we put hot dogs in it. and on special occasions we had velveeta, and she'd let me squeeze some of that amazing cheese right onto my finger and eat it. and somehow, these are the moments i remember more than anything else about my childhood, more than any of the hard stuff. those exquisite, pure seconds of love and quiet and cheese.

so tonight, not thinking about any of that, i put the water on to boil. i cooked my hotdogs, and then, while i waited for the mac and cheese to finish cooking, i sliced them up and ate one right away, dipping it in ketchup and using a little dessert fork. and when the pasta was done, i squeezed the cheese on, saving the last little bit for my finger.

and this is when i had one of those quick, special moments. this was what i remember wanting as a kid. here i am, in my own house, becoming a strikingly similar woman to my mother... and i can eat standing up, and i can go to the store and get mac and cheese and hot dogs any time i want, and i can use the little dessert fork if i want, because, goddammit, it's my silverware. i wish i could thank my mom for those few seconds, but i'm not sure exactly how you thank someone for mac and cheese, and an appreciation of quiet accomplishment. (or, for that matter, the ability to walk very, very fast).

it was delicious.

love,

j

(john william waterhouse).

what exquisite things.

love,

j

the most beautiful thing

dear lovely world,

thanks for everything. life continues to amaze me.

love,

j

both sides now

dear seattle,

some days i really like you.

love,

j

the darndest things

today i've got a story. a short one. an anecdote?

when i first started working at children's again, my very first day one of my kids came up to me. he snuggled in really tight, wrapped his arms around me, and gave me a huge squeeze of a hug. and then he looked up, and said, almost in awe: "i LOOOVE you."

i laughed and said thanks, and after a short pause, he asked, "what's your name?"

that's love. if only we could all be so trustingly giving.

love,

j

sam clam's disco

it's been far too long...

i've started working a second job, and have been volunteering my little tail off, so things have been crazy. but. sometimes when things are crazy it is even more important for me to set aside the few minutes it takes to recognize something beautiful or simple or complex or moving.

so today we have the bay. i finally bought my tickets to go see e next month in her show (i posted bits and pieces before) and bake cake and probably dance, too. if that's not beautiful, i'm not sure what is.

also, i thought i'd follow up on my resolutions, seeing as we're basically a good three months in.

1. lose 15 pounds. not there yet, but about half way. depending on the day and the meals.

2. finally address some of the skeletons in my closet. hm. this is a challenging one to quantify. i've started. and i've decided i'm going to write a book about my father. that's something, right?

3. figure out a way to get a dog. check. i have to move to a place that allows me to have one. that was easy.

4. get a dog. probably will roll over to next year's list.

5. exercise to keep the bitchiness away. i've been doing much better. with the two jobs it's hard, but there was a while where i was running three days a week. i'm continuing to make it a priority, even if i fall off the wagon now and again.

6. paint. often. or at least once a month. fail. but now i've reminded myself, and i'll re-resolve.

7. memorize a new chopin waltz. i'd forgotten all about this. will do.

8. write real letters more. definite check. double check. emily, e, isabel... i've been writing bunches (and sending boxes of presents too!) so this one's definitely a success. in fact, when i opened my stationary box the other day, all i had left were thank you notes and birthday cards, which is a good sign!

9. start planning my trucker documentary. opening song: eastbound and down. does that count as planning?

10. be kind to everyone. empathy. love. patience. i can honestly say i have been trying very hard to do this one. any time i feel harsh words coming up, i try to stop them. i've been trying to ask people i don't like questions that might reveal secret gems within them. and working with kids again has reminded me that not everyone moves at the insane pace i'm used to, so sometimes in order to know or understand people i have to slow down...

not a bad start, especially considering i've got nine months to go.

seattle is finally starting to cheer up and lose the drizzle, and i love how it smells outside. enjoy spring, have a picnic.

xo.

love,

j

life in the roses

love,

j

(thank you, banksy).

jocelyn marsh

i stumbled upon the work of miss jocelyn marsh the other day, and i'm entranced. some of the strangest, most beautiful pieces i've seen... i particularly like heartstrings. here's a video about the work she does:

love,

j

cheese love cherry blossoms

spent the afternoon at the market spending (literally) hundreds of dollars on cheese and prosciutto di parma and honey and cherry blossoms that are so pretty on my dining room table against the turquoise wall. and now i'm 100 % hyggelig on the couch with the dog i stole from my parents (who are in napa and needed a dog-sitter anyway)... and listening to classic rock.

not bad, sir.

love,

j

hey there, daffydilly

i had a little bit of time this morning between breakfast with my step-dad and my community partners meeting at cleveland high school, and there was no traffic at all, so i popped over to the market to buy some flowers... i was a bit early, so the flower vendors weren't unpacked yet, but i got to smell all the things i love about the market: fresh hum bao, the salty air coming in from the water, ripe vegetables, hot donuts, the fish stands...

but one of my favorite things in early spring is the color. and all along the roof this morning were hundreds and hundreds of daffodils. and i've decided, that when i'm a real grown-up, i definitely am going to have daffodils on my roof. and maybe tulips, too.

meanwhile (to follow up), here's my george:

happy early spring!

love,

j

george

my valentine's present was the most perfect stegosaurus bracelet (from the george line) by knight&hammer... i love it tons.

meanwhile, here's a stego in love (c/o takotank on deviant art):

happy v day!

love,

j

addiction

i love cake boss. so much. it is my favorite show. ever.

"it's aggravating!"

(i started making a wedding cake today, i am going to be working part-part-time with blue ribbon cooking company. hurray!)

love,

j

easy as pie

today's was a no-brainer. the tumult of the last couple weeks combined with the last minute stress of grading high school papers (and rounding up more times than not) to meet the semester deadline, and the suddenly shocking sun that greeted me this afternoon reminded me one of my favorite paintings:

(flaming june).

love,

j

prettiest dog ever

(ok, maybe it's a tie with lila).

love,

j

(the supply closet).

it's been a bumpy week, so i've been a bit absent dealing with a number of deadlines, and a little serving of sorrow... but all the more reason to find my beautiful things and share them. so here we go, pick ourselves up, dust it off, and remember all that joy just waiting.

my darling e and i were talking about stationary a while back... i love it. all of it. how it smells, how it feels, the beauty of taking the time to handwrite a loved one a letter...

she's in a show called dead man's cellphone, and she sent me this piece (like a small treat):

Scene 6
(At the stationary store.
The supply closet.
The light is dim.
Jean and Dwight are touching embossed invitations,
Closing their eyes.)

Jean
Feel this one. Like a leaf.

(Dwight feels it.)

This one. Branches. Tablecloths. Wool.

(She passes it to Dwight.)

This one is my favorite one, though. I’d like to live in a little house made of this one.

(She passes it to Dwight.)

Dwight
A house made of paper.

(Dwight tries to build a little house out of the paper.)

Jean
Yeah.
And this one! Braided hair.

(Dwight touches it.)

Dwight
Can I braid your hair?

Jean
What?
Okay.

(Dwight stands behind jean and fumbles with her hair.)

Dwight
Am I pulling too hard?

Jean
No, that’s fine. It feels nice.

(thank you, e. you're fantastic).

love,

j

a view of the sea

i'm sitting in a little cafe, cleverly dubbed holy grounds, writing this today. and the sky is that sort of pale grey that frustrates me, offering neither storm nor warmth. so i'm posting some pictures of what my view was a week ago, in mexico, looking at the ocean and the sky...

delicious (i particularly love the gull):

love,

j

kisses are a better fate

(than wisdom).

but, oh, new york public library, you're a pretty delicious fate too... (i love how all the books smell).

love,

j

just practicing

a quick post today... one of my favorite things about meh-hee-co was that everyone and their mother asked us if we were honeymooning, and when we said no, the response was the same every time:

"ohhh, just practicing!"

i love it.

so real quick, a beautiful moment of sun and warmth and waves and shrimp and cheese and love and sand between our toes:

more soon.

love,

j

tick-tock

by 11 hours, what my sleep head meant was 23... but it's coming up close.

i wish i had this to help me count down the minutes:

love,

j

in 11 hours

i will be on a plane headed here.

puerto vallarta.

thank goodness. i really need a vacation.

back friday with lots of beautiful things, pictures, ideas...

tons of love,

j

bisous, besalu!

since it'll be a bit before i'm able to open my own bakery, i have to seek out small, kindred spirit cafes to scratch my itch. and, without a doubt, cafe besalu (in ballard) wins as the most wonderful creators of pastries in the city.

still on south beach, i just can't partake. and it's a shame, because baking is really one of the things i love best. as is eating things i bake. but they're hiring a baker's assistant, and they remind me of that lovely little shop i've yet to open, and so i went in, and dropped off my resume, and chatted with the pastry chef, and then walked wistfully away, without so much as a nibble of chocolate croissant.

this is what you can expect from besalu:

divine. perfectly crisp, flaky dough with soft and moist insides, and the most delicious and fresh fruit you could imagine. i can't wait to return to you, butter!

love,

j

i've got a string wrapped around my finger...

i've been a bit absent from my daily exercise in finding joy and beauty in the world around me... not that i've not found it, it's just been a bit of a whirlwind of family visits and work and accidents and setting up job interviews and scg meetings that i've hardly had a minute to sit down and post these beautiful things!

anyway, i'm going to do a good job of remembering, at least until saturday when i leave for puerto vallarta, after which i'm positive i'll have a bevy of beautiful things to share.

so today, i have sort of a hodgepodge. a smorgasbord. a geocache of sorts! take what you will.

first, i have my favorite music video from feist. because who doesn't love flying toast? it won't let me embed it, so instead i'm simply going to post the link.

second, a great photograph of my old hood, ballard, by jeff burgess. i love the boats and the colors and the tin can.

and third, speaking of tin cans, sunflower sutra, one of my favorite poems, and certainly some of my favorite ginsberg:

I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and

sat down under the huge shade of a Southern

Pacific locomotive to look at the sunset over the

box house hills and cry.

Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron

pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts

of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed,

surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of

machinery.

The oily water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun

sank on top of final Frisco peaks, no fish in that

stream, no hermit in those mounts, just ourselves

rheumy-eyed and hungover like old bums

on the riverbank, tired and wily.

Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray

shadow against the sky, big as a man, sitting

dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust--

--I rushed up enchanted--it was my first sunflower,

memories of Blake--my visions--Harlem

and Hells of the Eastern rivers, bridges clanking Joes

Greasy Sandwiches, dead baby carriages, black

treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, the

poem of the riverbank, condoms & pots, steel

knives, nothing stainless, only the dank muck

and the razor-sharp artifacts passing into the

past--

and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset,

crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog

and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye--

corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like

a battered crown, seeds fallen out of its face,

soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, sunrays

obliterated on its hairy head like a dried

wire spiderweb,

leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, gestures

from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster

fallen out of the black twigs, a dead fly in its ear,

Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O

my soul, I loved you then!

The grime was no man's grime but death and human

locomotives,

all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad

skin, that smog of cheek, that eyelid of black

mis'ry, that sooty hand or phallus or protuberance

of artificial worse-than-dirt--industrial--

modern--all that civilization spotting your

crazy golden crown--

and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless

eyes and ends and withered roots below, in the

home-pile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar

bills, skin of machinery, the guts and innards

of the weeping coughing car, the empty lonely

tincans with their rusty tongues alack, what

more could I name, the smoked ashes of some

cock cigar, the cunts of wheelbarrows and the

milky breasts of cars, wornout asses out of chairs

& sphincters of dynamos--all these

entangled in your mummied roots--and you there

standing before me in the sunset, all your glory

in your form!

A perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent

lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye

to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited

grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden

monthly breeze!

How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your

grime, while you cursed the heavens of the

railroad and your flower soul?

Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a

flower? when did you look at your skin and

decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive?

the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and

shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive?

You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a

sunflower!

And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me

not!

So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck

it at my side like a scepter,

and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack's soul

too, and anyone who'll listen,

--We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread

bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all

beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we're blessed

by our own seed & golden hairy naked

accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black

formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our

eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive

riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening

sitdown vision.

that's all, folks.

love,

j

carkeek treasure chest

i came home yesterday from olympia feeling a little blue. nothing cheers me up like being by the water and a little tlc, so we grabbed the gps and went on a bit of a geocaching treasure hunt and hike down at carkeek park.

found it!

(my favorite was the cassette tape of german phrases, but jacob proudly selected a pedometer).

feeling a milllllllion times better, i returned to the city and work a little brighter-eyed and bushier-tailed. i love that in an age of lightning-fast technology and total social disconnect, you can get out into the dirt and leaves by the ocean and search for treasure! what an excellent adventure.

love,

j

my grandfather's hat

found it at my grandmother's today, and adopted it.

i love the feathers.

love,

j

george banton's holiday lights

i know christmas is over, but it has to have one last hurrah because i saw something so lovely last night i just had to post it.

every night on my way home from work, across the reservoir you can see a bunch of lights. we realized last night they'll probably be taken down soon, so we decided to try to find the house and check it out.

"this is exactly what my house is going to look like when i'm a real grownup."

oh my goodness. at the entrance was a sign welcoming you to turn off your car, and take a stroll through the yard. a little notice let us know that donations would be going to the Heart Association (nice work!) and that the light show hopefully, "brightens up an otherwise dark time of year." i think i love george banton.

the best part was all the detail. there were little santa lights staked into the ground, and cow lights (i think this is what really wooed me, what fantastic little lights!), along with a plethora of other animals.

there was his sweet and thoughtful notice, next to an old fashioned trash can used to hold the donations.

he had built the emerald city, and it twinkled whenever bare branches crossed it.

there were hula girls, strawberries, flamingos, palm trees... even betty boop! (i promise that last one is betty boop, just squint a little).

i wanted to take pictures of everything with my dinky little camera phone, but it was freezing, so i'll leave the lobsters, tool set, snowmen, and the million other little lights to your imagination...

thanks george banton!

love,

j

94

if(touched by love's own secret)we, like homing

through welcoming sweet miracles of air

(and joyfully all truths of wing resuming)

selves, into infinite tomorrow steer

--souls under whom flew(mountain valley forest)

a million wheres which never may become

one(wholly strange;familiar wholly)dearest

more than reality of more than dream--

how should contented fools of fact envision

the mystery of freedom?yet,among

their loud exactitudes of imprecision,

you'll(silently alighting)and i'll sing

while at us very deafly a most stares

colossal hoax of clocks and calendars.

(e.e. cummings)

love,

j

public market

oh, seattle, why won't you just snow, already?

even so, on listless, windblown days like today i feel moved simply by the grumbling clouds and drizzle. found this picture in the seattle times (thanks!) this morning, then walked my folks' dog down by the lake and let the wind and rain kiss my frozen cheeks...

love,

j

red poppy

i had the opportunity to meet tess gallagher a few years ago, and hear her read her poem, 'my unopened life' (which i always remember as, 'the spoon poem'). here is another of hers... touching on the beauty and fragility and sadness of life's inevitable end.

That linkage of warnings sent a tremor through June
as if to prepare October in the hardest apples.
One week in late July we held hands
through the bars of his hospital bed. Our sleep
made a canopy over us and it seemed I heard
its durable roaring in the companion sleep
of what must have been our Bedouin god, and now
when the poppy lets go I know it is to lay bare
his thickly seeded black coach
at the pinnacle of dying.

My shaggy ponies heard the shallow snapping of silk
but grazed on down the hillside, their prayer flags
tearing at the void-what we
stared into, its cool flux
of blue and white. How just shaking at flies
they sprinkled the air with the soft unconscious praise
of bells braided into their manes. My life

simplified to "for him" and his thinned like an injection
wearing off so the real gave way to
the more-than-real, each moment's carmine
abundance, furl of reddest petals
lifted from the stalk and no hint of the black
hussar's hat at the center. By then his breathing stopped
so gradually I had to brush lips to know
an ending. Tasting then that plush of scarlet
which is the last of warmth, kissless kiss
he would have given. Mine to extend a lover's right past its radius,
to give and also most needfully, my gallant hussar,
to bend and take.

love,
j

"the generation of girls who can't even boil an egg"

that's the name of a real article, by the way. something simply must be done.

i have a love-hate relationship with eggs. i find them simultaneously delicious and revolting. sometimes they're runny, or chewy, which is just as awful, and then i can't stand them. i hate them cold. i am always anxious while cooking them. they just seem like a lot of a pressure.

but sometimes an egg is cooked perfectly. and then it's amazing. it's full of protein and good cholesterol (who knew such things existed?!) and a vibrant color that is so sure to start your morning in an excellent fashion. sometimes i get eggs fresh from linda, whose chickens are lovely and have feathers all over their feet like they belong in a haute couture runway show, and then i'm always excited. easter would be nothing without its exquisite painted treasures. deviled eggs are definitely a superior snack. and then, of course, there's my baking. my constant baking, which i am temporarily suspending. eggs are essential to all of it, holding the cake together, souffles, meringue... oh, when i am baking, i am speechless with my love for eggs.

because i am going on south beach (see my resolution #1), for the next two weeks i will be unable to appreciate eggs for their baking contributions. SO today, after a nice run in the rain, i decided to play nice and make some hardboiled eggs.

these are not my eggs. this is a picture of someone else's perfect hardboiled eggs. i didn't look up directions, because how hard can boiling an egg be? long story short, it's probably been 10 years since i made them, and i just sort of guessed on the timing (five minutes seemed like a nice round number). i cooked the whole dozen to a nice mediumboiled, much to my boyfriend's disgust who can, and i quote, "NOT eat a softboiled egg" (wuss). i, however, thought they were fantastic, with a firm outside and a nice warm delicious yellow inside. i already feel healthier!

and, as i may have indicated, i am filled with a newfound appreciation for the egg, which, when you think about it, is really a pretty beautiful thing, both as a symbol of life, and one of sustenance. next time they'll look like the picture. i hope.

love,

j

morpho

(thanks, national geographic).

i hope you are all warm and safe and eating too much and loving your families. here's to a new year of joy and terrific adventures (skøl)!

love,

j