Falling in love with Fall

Falling in love with Fall

Cups of Chai

Chunky sweaters in oatmeal knits

Messy braids

Big buttons

Lentil soup

Horn rim glasses

Sleeping in

Chilly mornings

Crispy leaves

Coffee in bed

Gold, red and amber edges

Stacks of magazines

Long talks with friends

Letters

New sharpies

Walking slowly behind old couples holding hands

Candy corn

Hugs–bear hugs

Clean white paper

Cozy chairs

Asking questions

Crackles from a fire

Dreaming

Cinnamon

Scarves

Vanilla candles

Warm socks

Hard cider

Full moons

Throwing a football in the park

Museum corners

Chasing crows

Layers

Watching football games

Bowls of apples

Cashmere

Pumpkins

Flannel sheets

Watercolors

Carmel

Cellists playing in the subway

Heavy hearts

Laughing

Waiting
This cup is for Lottie.

Alice in Wonderland

My own version...

Recently I have been asked a lot of questions from friends about New York City, such as: How is it? What is the best part about it? What is the worst part about it? What is a typical day like? And lately, the only thing I seem to think about in response to all these questions is the subway. The subway is how I get from point A to point B. The subways is the only way to get across the entire island of Manhattan without paying an arm and a leg, and it is the most efficient way to get where you need to be in a timely manner. This week I will have been here for a month and I can already tell you my favorite lines–the 4, 5, and 6–or in a color–the green line. Why do I favor the green line? For one, the cars are newer than on some of the other lines. You can tell when you step onto a newer car because the seats are light blue, the air conditioning is blasting so cold it is an icebox inside, and the lights are brighter.  The announcer is audible and the routes are clearly labeled on a digital monitor to tell you where you are and where you are going. 

When you enter into a subway, it is basically like a scene out of Alice in Wonderland–complete with a whole host of characters. I imagine that Charles Lutwidge Dodgson got the idea of falling into a rabbit hole by entering into the subway on the corner of crazy and insane. Signs point in all different directions and you follow random arrows, letters and colors to (hopefully) get you to where you need to be. Once you are underground, navigating your way through the tunnel to get to your platform, a Cheshire cat is probably not that far from reality. A Mad Hatter–certainly–I see them almost every day. Tweedledee and Tweedledum–pretty sure I am stuck behind them when I am in a rush to make the train or get up out of the subway. And Dodo Birds–let’s be honest–they are everywhere.

I am sure that Chapter 2, Pool of Tears, got its name from how one feels when you are wandering around the tunnels of a subway trying to figure out where you want to go and need to be. Or how you feel when you come up out of a subway to realize you are totally turned around and on the wrong corner. Or how you feel when you get home after a long day and an even longer commute. Or Lutwidge named this chapter after riding the 2, the JMZ or the BDF. These trains are older, and when the doors woosh open, a filmy, dull yellow light fills the stuffy car. An old paper map hangs on a wall, the announcer is next to impossible to hear, and sometimes, the lights randomly turn off and the train comes to a total stop. We have many debates about this, but in my personal opinion, these are my least favorite lines.

And the White Rabbit who is always late–that is just every New Yorker every day. We all are in a white rabbit hurry to get where we need to be. However, I consider myself lucky, because I have what Alice never had–an iPhone 4. Granted, it doesn’t always work underground, but it sure helps get me to and fro without having to be falling into dark holes that I can’t find my way out of. Think how short Alice and Wonderland would have been if she had just had an iPhone? Think of how much more fun she would have had if she had brought a friend with her. Think of how much happier she would have been if she had just enjoyed the moment and gone with the flow? She didn’t really have anywhere she needed to be. She wasn’t in a masters program. She didn’t have an internship she needed to get to. She didn’t have to wait in a long line at Whole Foods to only buy 3 things. She should consider herself lucky. She should have just taken the 4, 5, 6, express train.

In the short time I have been here I would have to say that the best thing that I have seen so far, while waiting for the train, was a pale pink balloon, attached to a white ribbon, that was floating down the dark tunnel along the tracks of the 4, 5, 6. Somehow, in the midst of all the chaos, there was calm and quiet. It was perfect. Beautiful. 

“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"

"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."

"I don't much care where –"

"Then it doesn't matter which way you go.”

This cup is for Mandy (twin)–NYC Metro still doesn’t compare to navigating the subways in Japan…that is something I will never forget. 

Under my umbrella...ella...ella...ella..a.a.a

It’s raining. Not like a Portland rain. It is hurricane rain. And for those of you that have grown up in Portland all your lives, you know that we don’t carry or use umbrellas. And for those of you that have never been to Portland, you now know that we don’t carry or use umbrellas. EVER. Why you might ask? Let’s list the reasons:

1. They are a huge hassle

2. Once they are opened and get wet they never dry

3. There is no place to put a wet and dripping umbrella

4. They blow out–heavy winds yank and pull in all directions until the umbrella is totally mangled and inside out

5. While holding your wet, broken, inside out umbrella, the wind manages to blow the rain at you from all sides–the umbrella does nothing to keep you dry

6. If you have a good jacket with a hood, why would you need to use an umbrella?

7. When carrying an open umbrella, you are liable to loose an eye or poke someone’s eye out–this is both unfortunate, and preventable

8. There is not enough room for both umbrellas and people on the street–it is one or the other

9. The majority of Americans out there leave the house and grab the “soccer game” umbrella by mistake (which for those of you that never spent countless weekends on the sidelines as a child in the pouring rain, a soccer umbrella is about the size of a small tent you can buy at REI and can keep an entire team of fifth graders dry)

10. If you are in a hurry, chances are your umbrella will get stuck right when you need to close it and you will be left in the pouring rain trying to close it and all the metal rods will bend and point in the wrong direction–your umbrella will never close–and everyone will pity you as they walk by

With this in mind I now live in NYC and am surrounded by umbrellas. Why is this? Well, at first I thought (surely) the fur. You don’t want to be wearing a wet bear when you strut up and down Fifth Ave. But it is late September and it is still too warm to leave your Upper East Side apartment wearing a bear–so that is not the reason. Second, I thought (surely) it is the cashmere. Wet cashmere is the worst. But it is (still) late September and too warm (and humid) for cashmere. All I could come up with is that it is (still) late September and still too warm for a coat, and so an umbrella is the only thing that New Yorkers seem to think will keep them dry and cool at the same time. But this is false.

I tried it out myself. I decided to (Portland peeps–don’t judge) buy an umbrella and see what this umbrella business is all about. And I will tell you, not only did it not keep me dry, it blew inside out, and broke. It didn’t match my outfit–therefore carrying an umbrella is not part of a fashion statement. It was too small to share–therefore it is not a way to make quick friends on a street corner. There was no place to put it after it got wet–instead it dripped all over everyone on the subway. And in the end I just threw it away. Worst $5.00 I ever spent. The forecast for the rest of the week calls for rain–and so I urge all of you to save your $5.00 for a pumpkin spice latte and leave your umbrellas at home.

This cup is for Katie–who left her umbrella at home on the rainiest day so far…

Finally Fall

It’s finally fall, but you wouldn’t be able to tell from where I am. In Portland, September hits, and while it is still warm the evenings and mornings get cool and foggy, the sun changes position, the leaves hang on to the branches with crispy edges and their sound crackles in the breeze. In my new home, NYC, the humidity cakes your skin, the only leaves you see are the ones that have some how traveled a million miles in the wind and are broken apart in bits and pieces and scattered about gutters in the streets and it is still too hot for pumpkin spice lattes. But fall is here. We ended the summer with a peach pie in Central Park. We started September with a football game and some hard cider. Friends have filled the space between reading assignments and papers and I am left with very little time to fill my head with extra thoughts and ideas. There is no room for any extra. Not right now.

In the midst of tornados (like the one that touched down in Queens yesterday) I have made it a goal to find a different coffee shop everyday. The problem with this is that when I come across a new favorite I find myself returning to the same places over and over. And then there is my own little coffee press that I got in the mail last week—where I can enjoy cups of Portland from my favorite spot on the East Side whenever I want. And this weekend, in a city that never sleeps, I have found myself blending the cups together…a cup of Portland (brewed by me) in the morning and a cup of NYC (brewed by a New Yorker) in the afternoon. Dehydrated? Probably– but worth it. How else am I supposed to stay alert while reading Hobbes? How else am I supposed to remember the words of Rousseau? The Answer–brew up a cup to feed your addiction, fill your soul and stimulate your mind. Because no one wants to fall asleep in NYC–there is too much one would miss out on without a cup.

Apple Pie: It’s that time again!

-Preheat your oven to 450 degrees

-6 Apples (from the farmers market) peeled and sliced (use a sharp knife and don’t cut your finger)

–Make the dough by hand or go buy pre-made dough at the store (Trader Joe’s pie crust is my favorite)

–Place half the dough/pie crust in a un-greased glass pie plate

–      Mix ¾ cup of flour, ¾ cup of brown sugar, salt, and cinnamon (as much as you like for taste) together in a large bowl.

–      Pour the apples into the flour/sugar mixture to coat the apples

–Place the apple/sugar mixture into your pie plate with the pie crust

–Use remaining dough/pie crust to cover the top (with a design of your choice)

–Bake at 450 degrees for 45 minutes or until golden brown

–Enjoy with friends (in a park, on a subway, or in a small apartment)

This cup is for Hobbes–if you were here I would offer you a cup in exchange for all the answers to all my questions. 

Handmade

Thank you Katie for documenting the whole process

Julia Childe would be so proud. I made an apple pie in a convection oven. To be exact, I made a raspberry apple pie in my convection oven. Did I read the directions? No. Did I own a mixing bowl? No. Did I lug all the ingredients up and down flights of stairs and through subway corridors, hopping trains, and tracks, and managing not to trip all at the same time? Yes. Did I use a crappy knife to peel the apples? Yes. Did I cut my finger peeling apple number one? Yes. Was all that worth it in the end? Absolutely.

There is something very primitive about being a grad student, or just a student living in a high rise building in general. We don’t have much. We can’t buy much. And we make do with what we have on hand (which is often very little). That being said, I think there is something very humbling about not having technology always on hand to help us get through the list–be it a recipe or a task. We can’t always just turn on the kitchenaid and watch everything blend together. Sometimes, we have to do it all on our own– blood, sweat, and tears.  And just when I am ready to give up, I think to myself, my ancestors didn’t have a kitchenaid. They were somewhere on the Oregon Trail, out in the middle of nowhere, and had to pull off the road and start mixing. Cavemen didn’t have a kitchenaid or a dull knife–they probably had a sharper rock and bigger arms to get the mixing done (if apple pie was part of their diet).

If technology had always existed, we wouldn’t have words like “rustic” which you use to describe crust that is falling apart as you place it in the pie plate. We wouldn’t have words like “handmade” which is what you say when you account for the jagged edges around the pie or the flour that never quite got mixed in. And let’s be honest–cobbler would never have come to exist if it hadn’t been for handmade pies that fell apart.  I am certain cobbler was born from pies that never quite held together, crusts that were so fragile they broke (into crumbs of goodness), and people that didn’t have plates and had to use bowels instead. How do you explain and account for your falling apart handmade pie as your guests arrive for dessert? It’s cobbler! Voila!

I was lucky enough that my handmade pie held together (as did the first week of grad school in New York City)! And let me tell you, gathering around warm pie at the end of a long week of new everything– it felt good to taste something familiar.

This cup is for my new Milano family. You are all so talented and amazing. And to Katie–who has been there all week (through thick and thin, and beyond). 

NYC!

If you need a challenge, I urge you to try to cram your life into two huge duffel bags, throw a dart in a new direction, set your sights on new smells, new faces, and new places and head out. Don’t worry about getting lost–someone is always around the corner with the answer, signs will point you in the right direction, and the pounding that you feel in your chest will eventually settle down to its regular rhythm again. In the process you will find new muscles you never thought you had that will come in handy when your are dragging your baggage (called your life) around the streets of a new city (I mean this literally and figuratively).

You will realize that an unknown place that once felt too big to handle suddenly becomes small, compact, and manageable. Crowds of people, lines, clutter, slow walkers, fast walkers, busy corners, hustle and bustle will wear you out. Coffee shops, parks, public gardens and museum galleries will become your new refuge to seek out the calm and quiet. And along the way you will find a whole host of folks that are in the exact same place in life as you–a major transition.

My latest cup of cosmos is overflowing: NYC

Most recent happenings and observations include (but are not limited to)

A pigeon roaming the baggage claim at JFK

A shoebox of an apartment, crammed with too many people with too many things

Random mist that falls from god knows where and lands in your hair/mists your face (gross) as you walk down the street

Sales tax that surprises me at every purchase (something I will probably never get used to)

A grubby homeless person on the train that gave an incredible speech about what a poor candidate Romney is and to do everything we can to support Obama–I happened to agree with everything he said and he made some good points

Washington Sq. Park is one of my favorite places

New Yorkers are super friendly–don’t believe everything you hear

New Yorkers are so friendly that they walk you where you need to be, before heading off to where they are going

People apologize for their shoes

Dress to impress ALWAYS–Tim Gunn is not joking

If you feel dressed up, chances are you are still underdressed

The subway is hot and smells like pee–it’s just the way it is–and it’s quite clean compared to India, Morocco, Egypt, etc.  so no complaining

At 10pm rats come up for air and roam the tracks, but they are small compared to the rats on the tracks in India…so be thankful

There is always going to be some sort of mysterious puddle somewhere…don’t think too hard about what it is…actually…don’t think about it at all

If you look like you know where you are going someone will stop you and ask for directions

I need a blindfold walking to class up 5^th Ave–the shopping is unreal

Personal goal: find a new coffee shop everyday

You walk your dogs off here and the blisters are well worth it

Humidity is not my friend

The water taxi to IKEA rocks!

Not everyone wears heels to work–you change into them when you get to the office

The lines at Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s are so long you think a tornado is heading this way and this is the last day to buy anything–but this is just normal everyday grocery shopping in NYC

Not everyone on the streets wears deodorant and everyone should

Restaurants are open late (LOVE THAT)

People walking around are from all over the world

Every time you turn around you spend money

The first time you take the subway alone feels like the biggest accomplishment of your life

It seems that there are fewer hours in the day on the East Coast then the West Coast

The city never sleeps

If you don’t hold onto rails in the subway you will fly forward/backward

Asking people for directions is more reliable than an iPhone

The Farmer’s Market has the biggest sunflowers I have ever seen

The minute you take a shower and head out into the world you will feel like you need to shower again

Wait for the crosswalk sign or risk being flattened

Walk fast–you can cover more ground

Don’t call your friends on the West Coast when you get up in the morning–they are  still sleeping

Find a post office for snail mail

Help a tourist take a picture

Eat everything

Remember to run

Smile

Get plenty of rest–be it a park bench, coffee shop, chair, subway car, or bed

Find a friend–things are better in pairs

Find lots of friends–the more the merrier

And most importantly–Enjoy a cup. It’s New York!

This cup is for Jessica: who's last cup in the city was my first cup in the city (which I find so poetic). Thank you for helping me land on my feet. 

My forever home.

Somewhere in the midst of packing and seeing all the faces that need to be seen, all the hugs that need to be hugged and all the runs that need to be run, you feel like trying a new indesign program on your computer. Then you want to post it for all the world to see--and no matter how many times you post it, it just doesn't post and so you give up. But along the way you find a perfect day in Portland. The perfect day was a success--not only because of the people who made it perfect and the place that is perfect--but because it was successfully posted to your blog. That perfect picture makes up for the last few not so successful/perfect posts. And so now--for what I hope to be a most successful adventure (scattered with a few perfect days).

This cup is for Portland. You are always my home and forever in my heart.